#was a beneficial force that made her a bit more in touch with what matters

[jakeperalta]

I've said it before that taylor's many years of receiving (often unwarranted and ridiculous) criticism have seemingly skewed her ability to pick up on what is valid criticism and what's just ""haters"" and she pretty much proved that correct with but daddy I love him and I fear that is now her attitude towards all criticism (even without the excuse of being blinded by love or whatever). which is sort of why it would probably help to be surrounded by more people who can help make that judgement of valid criticism vs celebrity hate. but alas :/

[inkykeiji]

hi clari! i have a few questions about touya-nii’s reader’s personality. from what we see she seems to be a very sweet girl, but let’s say for a second she’s not that way; would touya even care as long as she was still sweet to him? wouldn’t it even be more beneficial to him if she’s not the nicest to everyone she meets?

alternatively (going back to her original sweet personality) what if she were to gradually become more short and snippy with other people, almost like it becomes an outlet to the negative behavior she can’t give to touya. would he not like this / punish her for being rude no matter who it is? or, again, would he not care as long as it’s not directed at him?

for example, she starts finding fuyumi more and more annoying as their relationship progresses to the point where every interaction they have if they ever cross paths is very obviously forced, or she’s just plain rude to her face, or even talking bad about fuyumi to touya after they leave. of course she’d be nice to her friends (keigo) because she actually likes him, but would negative behavior towards them not be tolerated by touya? would he discourage her from talking bad about anyone she doesn’t like, classmates, teachers, etc?

lastly, what rules to her behavior that she has with touya extend to natsuo? is she allowed to be more sarcastic, bratty, jokingly mean, etc to natsuo or is that not allowed? taking from that small piece you wrote where she made a snarky remark to him when he was watching her that ended up with her getting in trouble with touya, i’m guessing that she obviously has to be careful around natsuo, but was that just because she was disrespecting an order from touya or is it the same for any behavior towards him?

i hope you’re doing well and taking care of yourself!! looking forward to your future pieces, you’re seriously one of my favorite writers <3

hello bb!! c: ah very interesting questions!!! fair warning: my answer is super duper long! <3

i mean, she definitely has the capacity to be snappy within her, as we see her ready to march right out of that bedroom and confront fuyumi in my christmas series, and she would have, had touya not been coming up the stairs. i’ve said this before, but she finds shreds of autonomy and self-serving strength whenever her relationship with touya, or touya himself, is brought into question. she is FIERCELY protective of him in every way, in all aspects and regards. and he fucking loves this about her. 

so you kind of touch on this in your questions, but the answer is basically, it depends. most of the time (about 80% or so), as long as she’s on her best behaviour with touya, it’s fine. she’s human, so she’s obviously going to slip up and possibly be a little short or curt with others, but touya’s got her so well trained that she’d rarely make those mistakes with him (they still happen, of course, she can’t always control that mouth of her + her thoughts, but it’s seldom). he does technically prefer her to be kind to others, as is her true nature in the way i wrote her as a ‘character’ (who she is at her core), but he also thinks it can be pretty cute when she’s a bit of a bitch, too. 

that being said, touya definitely gets a kick out of reader being bitchy with fuyumi and ranting to him about it afterward. he thinks it’s hilarious and adorable, and it only adds to the sense of superiority and power he maintains not over just reader, but over fuyumi (and reader’s perception of fuyumi) too.

if he feels like she’s getting ‘out of control’ with her rudeness with strangers or acquaintances, then yes, he’ll probably punish her in some way or at least issue a stern verbal warning to behave. again, it’s highly dependent on the situation itself—who it is, how reader is feeling, how touya is feeling, what’s going on around them, where they are, etc etc etc. 

for example, reader is extremely rude toward the girl who took touya’s virginity when they accidentally bump into the woman many years later, and touya thinks it’s just the best, cutest thing he’s ever seen. he loves it, he gets off on it, he loves to see that fierceness in her when it’s related to him, that possessiveness and that greediness. i’ve said this before as well, but reader herself carries a lot of the same yandere traits and tendencies touya does, they just manifest themselves in different ways and to different severities. touya is callous with nearly everyone around him because that’s just who he is, but reader becomes extremely cruel whenever her object of obsession (touya) is brought into the equation. she’d kill for him if she had to, and she’d do it without a second of hesitation. they are both extremely twisted for one another. 

touya is less likely to tolerate nasty behaviour toward people he cares about (ie keigo, like you mentioned), especially if this behaviour is unprovoked and excessive. it’s one thing if she’s getting angry or snippy with someone because she has a decent reason to—in that case, touya may laugh a little and give her a light warning, and if she’s REALLY upset and cannot control herself and her emotions, he will take her somewhere private to calm down. it’s important to note here, tho, that touya himself must also consider the transgression to be something she has a ‘good reason’ for getting upset or angry over. he’s a lot more lenient with this kind of stuff when it comes to others versus when it comes to himself and her behaviour toward him (as we’ve seen him punish harshly on far less). touya’s world is organized in hierarchies, and he considers his friends and associates to, more or less, deserve a certain degree of respect—maybe not as much as he expects her to treat him with (because he’s king of the world, duh), but close. sometimes he’ll find a bit of brattiness or snarkiness toward his friends and associates cute or amusing, but this is really only if it borders more on playful than serious. 

he would definitely discourage her from bad-mouthing others—it’s not polite, it’s not what good little girls do—but he’ll understand if she needs to rant or complain about a prof or classmate she doesn’t like. it’s when she’s being mean for no reason that he really has an issue with it, and he is more than willing to put a prof or classmate back in their place if they’re upsetting his little sister. 

now natsuo is a very good question.

so in touya’s world’s hierarchy, natsuo sits directly below himself—which translates to reader needing to treat natsuo with a high degree of respect, but it still isn’t as intense as how touya expects her to treat him/isn’t on the level of respect touya expects her to treat him with. she’s most definitely allowed to be ever-so-slightly snarkier with natsuo (again, touya’s always looking for reasons to punish her (funishments? in his mind? sometimes? depends on his mood) and exert power over her, so he’s a lot quicker to reprimand her for silly little behaviours and speech (tho he does like it when she gets ‘playfully bratty’ with him—as does she—because it always results in those ‘funishments’)) but she rarely is, especially when it’s difficult to tell what’s acceptable and what’s deemed ‘rude’, especially when natsuo and touya are constantly moving those goalposts and revising the definitions to fit their own moods and needs.

so, for example, in the piece you’re talking about, natsuo has no intention of punishing her or using her until he sees that opportunity arise, in which case his whole demeanour switches and he channels touya (touya would be and is v proud of this btw HAHAHA). until reader starts getting freaked out and begging natsuo not to tell touya—because reader knows such a comment would’ve gotten her in serious trouble with their big brother—natsuo doesn’t have any issue with it at all, and actually finds it quite cute and amusing. it’s only when he realizes ‘hold on, i can use this to my advantage’ that he changes his whole stance on her little comment. 

but even in that piece, at the beginning, we see reader pushing back against natsuo in a way she probably wouldn’t do with touya (she rarely questions touya’s decisions, having full faith in him and his choices for both him and her 97% of the time). 

the piece you’re talking about has a bit of a deeper backstory to it, though. reader is feeling angry because natsuo and touya always get to do whatever they want—in particular and more specifically, natsuo gets to do almost whatever he wants and rarely gets reprimanded by touya for it, whereas reader has all of these super strict rules, and she feels like that’s a little unfair. she’s a little jealous by just how much leniency natsuo has beneath touya’s rule. natsuo vies for touya’s approval and praise, just like she does, but natsuo doesn’t seem to have as much at risk (ie his entire self worth and personality) and in some cases seems to achieve it even easier than she does (ie she has to work harder for her praise), and on a subconscious level that pisses her off. natsuo loves his big brother and would crawl across burning shards of glass for him, but natsuo also has his own life and his own autonomy and decisions. reader is kind of torn here, because she (has been conditioned to) LOVE serving touya, but she can’t help but feel a little envious of natsuo’s freedom. on top of this, and what truly adds insult to injury, is that natsuo seems to get away with a hell of a lot more than reader ever could. touya’s punishments are rarely as vicious and harsh with natsuo as they are with reader, and natsuo doesn’t have NEARLY as many rules as she does (precisely because of their relationship—natsuo is just touya’s brother, reader is his whole fucking world. this is a huge distinction in touya’s twisted mind.). 

so, to sum up my incredibly long answer (or a tldr): it heavily depends on 1. who it is (if it’s someone touya himself also doesn’t like, a stranger, or someone touya does like/respect), 2. the severity of her behaviour (is it teetering on playful snark or is it genuine rudeness), and 3. the reason for the behaviour (does he feel like it’s justified and deserved? can he understand where her anger is coming from?). 

i hope this answers all of ur questions anon!!! thank you so much for sending them in! c:

[dancing-in-a-yellow-dress]

Trapped Little Angel (part 1)

Welcome to the first part of the first fanfic on this account.

Child!reader x the Avengers

Word count: 2900

Trigger warning: Imprisonment, nightmares, non graphic descriptions of violence and injuries, possible trigger for eating disorders

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You were a 14-year-old orphan living alone in New York, since your family had died in the explosion that gave you your powers. Your powers were similar to Wanda’s (telekinesis and all that jazz). You got them when you were 7, but for whatever reason they hadn’t been active before that day.

It was a basic September day with all of its rain and fog and clouds. You were walking on the street when suddenly you blacked out and your powers exploded out of you destroying property and hurting people everywhere around you. The Avengers were called to action and they evacuated the block and when you’d cooled off a little they took you into custody and to the Avengers tower.

You had passed out and they didn`t really know what to do with you, so they laid you down on the couch and began a debate about the subject.

Tony believed firmly that you were dangerous to the team and the best thing for everyone would be to lock you up isolated and unstimulated to avoid new outbursts until a better option would be available. Steve backed Tony up to an extent, although he did believe the isolation to be unnecessary. Bruce didn’t really voice his opinion on confinement that much, instead focusing on the medical aspect of the situation.

Clint doesn’t really say much during the argument, before Tony raises the possibility of indefinite imprisonment in isolation. That is what finally gets to him, since you are just a kid and remind him of his own daughter. Wanda argues firmly against any form of forced imprisonment. In her opinion you needed medical attention, after which instead of locking you up the team should be focused on helping you control and develop your powers in a beneficial way.

Natasha is uncharacteristically quiet for the whole debate. Something about you had got to her and she found it hard to think of the situation objectively without a massive bias. Peter was on ‘your side’ for sure. To him you were a troubled kid who just happened to need some help. In a way he saw himself in you.

You start to regain consciousness about halfway through the argument. The Avengers are taken back at first, but when you are very confused and scared, Nat and Clint (who are the most ‘neutral’ participants) tell you what happened. When you have gotten the big picture you ask shakily: “How many people did I hurt? What’s the damage?” The others are hesitant to tell you, but Tony is highly pissed at you, so he takes his tablet and shows you some pics of the place where the accident happened. Wanda shoots him a death glare, but he continues and reads the statistics to you: “At this exact moment there are 9 people dead, 27 in critical condition and 56 with milder injuries. All because of your little stunt.” At this point you have pulled your knees to your chest and are struggling to breathe. Steve and Clint look at Tony like he has lost his mind and Nat tries to calm you down. You are repeating the same things over and over again: “I didn’t mean to- It’s all my fault… I don’t know how- What- I didn’t mean to…” Nat was approaching you, her hand reached out ready to stroke your back and pull you into a hug. She says: “We know. Everything will be alright, it’ll be alright. It wasn’t your fault, we’ll sort this out. It’s okay, you’re okay. We don’t blame you, but right now you need to calm down.” You flinch away from her, panic shining in your eyes: “No! Don’t touch me! I don’t want to hurt you. I can’t control it… I don’t understand- I didn’t mean to…” Suddenly you look desperately at Tony “You have to lock me up. I’m dangerous. I can’t be trusted. I have to be put away. Please”, you beg, surprising all of the other people in the room. Peter is about to say something, but Tony cuts him off.

You stand up and Clint shows you the way to a quite big cell. You step in and he shuts the door behind you. You sit on the floor in the corner and pull your knees to your chest. You just blankly stare at the wall. You noticed that there was a camera in corner of the room near the roof as you stepped inside, but you didn’t care. What did it matter. As you stayed on the floor the team was reheating the discussion whilst keeping an eye on the monitor that showed footage from your cell.

Wanda and Peter were shouting at Tony for locking you up in an isolation cell. Natasha and Clint were a bit calmer, but they were backing Wanda and Peter up. At some point Tony says: “You heard the kid. She wanted to be locked up. Even she thought it would be the best option”. And that sets Natasha off: “Yeah, after you had scared the poor thing on the verge of a panic attack. That wasn’t fair play. You drove her to that decision and you know it.” Then Peter fires: “Besides the whole ‘she decided herself’ excuse is bullshit. She’s a kid. SHE’S 14. I’m 17 and you don’t trust me to do anything yet, so how again is she any different?” That shuts Tony up.

In the end the team comes to the conclusion, that they will be monitoring you strictly and willing people will be allowed to go talk to you. All except Peter (just for the first few days) who is infuriated to no end by the decision.

The first person to come talk to you is Wanda. She comes and talks for a while, but you can’t make any sense of what she’s saying. After a while she leaves shutting the door behind her. Steve also comes to question you, and even though this time you understand what he is saying you can’t find the energy to answer him in you. Clint brings you something to eat and drink, but you don’t move a muscle to acknowledge the act. Time sort of looses its meaning to you as you sit on the floor and stare into nothing, alone with your thoughts, the same thoughts over and over and over again.

Nevertheless, you know some time has passed when Natasha comes through the door with another tray filled with food. She places it carefully on her untouched bed and sighs deeply before speaking: “You should really start eating on your own. It’s been two whole days and you haven’t taken a bite. I get that its hard, but you’ve got to try. Otherwise we’ll have no choice but to put a feeding tube down your throat and trust me kid, that does not feel good.” She gives you another look, then turns around and walks out. Slowly you straighten your legs on the floor.

You hadn’t really noticed how much your muscles were hurting for being in the same position for so long before someone pointed it out. You stretched your legs first and then stood up slowly. You went through your body, stretching every muscle one at a time and then sat down beside the bed to eat. You weren’t really hungry, but the threat of getting a feeding tube stuffed down your throat was enough to get you eating.

After you were done with the meal you went back to your corner and sat back down, leaving your legs laying on the floor instead of curling up to a tight bundle. After a few minutes there was a knock at the door and Wanda walked in. She picked the tray up and looked down at you, clearly assessing the situation before finally saying: ”Hey, I was wondering if you needed to use the bathroom.” You didn’t answer her but stood up and stepped timidly few steps forward so that she knew you’d be coming along. She guided you through the hallways and into a bathroom. “There is a towel on the counter and shampoo on a shelf in the shower. Take as long as you need. I’ll pick up some clean clothes for you and bring them here. Okay?” You didn’t say a word but nodded and opened the door to the bathroom. After half an hour you were back in your cell but feeling significantly cleaner and comfier.

Instead of sitting back in the corner on the floor you sat on your bed and crossed your legs. You didn’t know why, but you felt like it, so you started singing, first just humming quietly, then adding the words to the song. It was an old lullaby your mom had sang to you more than once. Some things just had a way of sticking with you.

`Hyvin hiljaa, hyvin hiljaa

nyt kuuluu keijujen äänet

Ne tanssivat taas koko yön laulaen

koko yön laulaen.

Hyvin hiljaa, hyvin hiljaa

taas syttyy tähtöset pienet

Ne oottavat taas läpi yön loistaen

läpi yön loistaen.

Hyvin hiljaa, hyvin hiljaa

nyt sammuu keijujen äänet

Ne liitävät taas ylös luo tähtien

ylös luo tähtien`

Then you sang it over again, this time in English

If your quiet, very quiet,

you can hear sound of the fairies

They’re dancing again through the night until day

through the night until day

Very quiet, almost silent

the stars are lighting the sky

they’re waiting again till the night fades away

till the night fades away

If you’re quiet, very quiet

you can hear sound the fairies

they race through the sky so they’ll be near the stars

so they’ll be near the stars

You sang the song a couple times over and finally you got to the last part you had made up on your own. You always ended it there, since you could never continue singing after that.

Hyvin hiljaa, hyvin hiljaa

ei kuulu keijujen äänet

Ne lähtivät taas minut yksin jättäen

minut yksin jättäen

Even if you’re very quiet

you won’t hear sound of the fairies

they flew up the sky leaving me alone behind

leaving me alone behind.

You broke down sobbing. Clint was sitting at the monitor, and he thought it’d be best not to disturb you, so you were left alone as you start humming another melody your mom taught you.

Joka ilta kun lamppu sammuu ja saapuu oikea yö Niin Nukku-Matti nousee ja ovehen hiljaa lyö On sillä uniset tossut ja niillä se sipsuttaa Se hiipii ovesta sisään ja hyppää kaapin taa

”I didn’t know she was finnish” Nastasha said to clint as she sat next to him with two cups of tea. “Finnish?” Clint asked as they listened to the beautiful melody coming from the lonely cell. Nat was quiet for a while before saying “Yeah. The language is absolutely bizarre.” They sat in silence for another while, until Clint said: “She sounds miserable” “Yeah, but who wouldn’t. I’m guessing she has no family, since no one has come asking for her.”

Ja pieni sateenvarjo on aivan kallellaan Ja sinistä unien kirjaa se kantaa kainalossaan Ja unien sinimaahan se lapset autolla vie Surrur, surrur ja sinne on sininen, uninen tie

Ja siellä on kultainen metsä, ja metsässä kultainen puu Ja unien sinilintu ja linnulla kultainen suu Ja se unien sinilintu se lapsia tuudittaa Se laulaa unisen laulun joka mielen uneen saa

Your mum never taught you that song in English. You had tried translating it, but it always turned out so peculiar you had eventually given up.

When you felt like you had cried enough you stopped with the finnish and started going through songs you had heard somewhere else, altering the lyrics as you went.

You hadn’t sung anything in weeks and now you just couldn’t stop. It felt good. You went over your favorites altering lyrics and making up new verses, not wanting the song to end. As you sang you thought about mum and home. In the outside world they were forbidden things, because they made it hard to focus on surviving. But here she had all the time in the world to think. After hours and hours she finally laid down on the mattress and drifted to sleep

Tony had just started his shift watching you through the monitor and you were having a nightmare. You were curled up in a ball and whimpered and muttered quietly, as tears ran down your face. You dug your nails into your back and started scratching leaving bloody red marks behind. Then you started screaming. The sound echoed through the halls, but Tony didn’t know what to do, so he ended up doing nothing, just staring at the screen paralyzed. It went on for a while, until you finally flinched so violently you woke up.

You were in a state of panic, but as you realized where you were it started to wear off. Little by little you started to feel the pain from the bloody scratch marks on your back and arms. You examined your injuries to the best of your abilities and then looked at the floor while talking sheepishly at the camera in the corner of the room: “If you don’t mind I’d like to have something to wrap these cuts with. I might also need some help with the ones in my back. Its not a big deal, but I don’t want them to get infected.”

The screaming had woken up Natasha and Steve who were now standing behind Tony, looking at the screen over his shoulders. Tony cleared his throat before turning around in his chair and facing the other two. They both had their arms crossed on their chest. Steve looked surprised as hell, but Natasha was quick to recover. She threw Tony an icy stare before saying: “Should we think the imprisonment over again, or is she still too dangerous for you to handle?” Tony raised his hands before saying: “Let’s think that over in the morning, when the whole team is up. Now, would you mind going to help her with the injuries?” Natasha threw Tony another dirty look, before grabbing the first aid kit and heading to your cell.

Nat came, and you laid on the bed on your stomach. She lifted your shirt, poured antiseptic solution on a cloth and warned you: “I’m sorry, but this is gonna hurt like a bitch.” She pressed the cloth gently on your back and you shrug. “It’s not that bad. You get used to pain as a homeless kid. Once I had to remove a bullet from my own shoulder.” There Nat saw an opportunity get little bit more information of you and continued the conversation: “Must be tough. I suppose you don’t have any family left?” “Yeah, mum and dad and Tom died… in an accident” you tensed up visibly. Nat continued unbothered but didn’t bring up the deaths again. “I heard you sing the other day. Didn’t know you were finnish.” “Oh, I’m not. My mom was.” “So, can you speak finnish or what?” “Nah, not anymore anyways. I used to, but I haven’t used it in a long time. Some things just stuck with me, like the songs, or silly pet names mum used to call us.” For some reason you felt really safe with Natasha. Her touch reminded you of home as she worked to clean your wounds and then wrap them with clean gauze. You knew it was silly, but it just felt so good to finally talk to someone, so you kept answering her as she continued asking questions. “Pet names, huh. What did she call you?” “She used to call me Lumikki. It’s the finnish for snow white. It’s cheesy as hell, I know but we lived in a little cottage in the woods, and I was obsessed with Disney.” Natasha smiled at you. “Do you remember anything else about your mum.” “She had the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard. She sounded like an angel. Sometimes I hear her in the wind.” You pause for a minute “And she was a dancer. She used to be a ballerina, but then she had us and her career ended. She never quit dancing though. Once in a while she’d put on her slippers and go through some old routine, like she had never stopped. She even taught me some basics.” Natasha was quiet for a moment. Then she cleared her throat and continued: “Did you have any siblings?” “Yeah”, you were quiet for a moment, not rushing to continue “One brother. His name was Tuomas, but we all called him Tom. Three years older than me. He was my best friend.” A tear fell down your cheek. Natasha was almost done with wrapping your back so she asked one more question. “How about your dad” You shrugged. “He was a hunter. Spent most of his time with Tom out in the forest when I stayed in with mum.” Nat packed the medical supplies back to the first aid kit and pulled your shirt down so that it covered your back. Then she helped you sit up and said: “I can’t promise anything yet, but we’re having another meeting with the team about your… condition and I believe you might get out of here.” She saw the unsure look you gave her. “Don’t worry” she said as she took your hand “Everything will be alright. I promise”

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Sorry, I have absolutely no idea what is going on with the spacing, tried to fix it but it wont budge... Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter!

[writer-ish]

I love your fics so much! The Mason ones are utterly amazing 🤩

As for my ask: the touching prompts and Mason can you do 37+50?

prompt: putting their head on the other’s chest / putting a hand over the other’s mouth to shut them up pairing: mason x detective (grace bennett) word count: 1.5k | rating: T (language) author note: you are so sweet. ☺️ thank you sm and thanks for the prompt love! hope you enjoy. 

☾☾ touching prompts

*

It wasn't that the meetings were boring, per se.

Consolidation after a patrol was a necessity in Grace's eyes. It wasn’t like they all walked through the same streets and alleys together, arms linked, the five of them patrolling in tandem. Nate usually went one way, Adam another. Felix would decide who he wanted to join or if he felt like taking his own route.

And that would leave her and Mason.

She tried, once, to tell him that she didn't need him to patrol with her. They'd cover more ground separately, of course. That much seemed obvious. And before Unit Bravo had arrived, she had been made detective of their small town's police force, which had to count for something—had to speak to some level of ability; of skill.

But the absolutely withering look he gave her upon that suggestion shut down any further discussion on the matter.

Plus, and here was the real problem, the crux of the issue—the truth was, if she were being honest with herself... she liked having him on patrol with her.

It felt like a betrayal of her sex to admit that she felt—safer with him around. But for all her capabilities (admittedly most of which were intellectual and not so much physical or combat-oriented), the idea of having someone to patrol with, a protector, was—

Well, it was nice.

Of course she would never, ever admit that out loud. She could barely admit it in the sanctity of her thoughts.

But ever since life had changed for her in Wayhaven, and supernatural occurrences had become the norm, and her life had been put in danger (more than once), it seemed, at the very least, prudent of her to have the extra support wherever available.

And anyway, they were partners. If not in anything else, they were partners for the Agency. And the patrol - they did that together.

Which brought Grace back to the present moment.

The meeting.

Every time the unit patrolled, they would meet together briefly afterwards to discuss anything unusual they had seen, offer up any suggestions for future patrols, or coordinate routes or sites that may be more fruitful or beneficial in the future. There was always a plan, an ultimate goal, and each member of Unit Bravo, including their human liaison, wanted to ensure that their patrols were as efficient as possible.

Which was all well and good, fantastic really, except for one small thing.

Grace was fucking exhausted.

Months of working for the Agency, of patrolling with UB and then waking up a few hours later and doing her other job, her “real” job, for a seemingly endless amount of time, only to come home and cat nap and then do it all over again—it was taking its toll.

The vampires were fine, because of course they were; they were fucking vampires. Sleep was a suggestion. A novelty. A lark.

But Grace was tired.

At this particular post-patrol gathering, she had tried exceptionally hard to focus. Adam said they were going to keep it short, but it had already been twenty minutes and he was still going over a detour in his route that he felt would be beneficial.

Mason sat beside her on the arm of the chair she was sitting in, a high-backed, extra plush thing, that was somehow incredibly conducive to sleep and also horribly uncomfortable.

He was flicking his lighter open and closed as he listened and she lightly tapped his thigh with the back of her hand to get him to stop, feeling her eyelids grow heavier with each passing second.

He looked down at her and took a second to absorb her expression, before looking over sharply at Adam and barking:

“Hey, how about we wrap this shit up—?”

His words were unceremoniously cut off by Grace’s hand over his mouth.

She felt the sharp intake of breath he took as he glanced at her in surprise, eyes narrowed and nostrils flaring.

Sheepishly she took her hand off his mouth and said softly, “No, I’m fine.” She then turned to Adam, who looked puzzled, and glanced briefly at Nate who seemed concerned and Felix, who was clearly amused. “It’s fine, Adam, continue please.”

Adam looked at her assessingly, before giving a brief nod and continuing. “As I was saying, if we veer northwest here and go around the park...”

Grace settled back in the chair and looked up to catch Mason still staring at her, narrow and intent.

What? she mouthed.

He pointed at her and then closed his eyes and lolled his head to the side, an exaggerated tableau of sleep.

She bit her lip to keep from giggling and shook her head, re-focusing on Adam.

Within seconds, her focus was cut short once more as she felt Mason drop down from the arm of the chair and wriggle in the seat beside her. They barely fit side by side, so she had to make room for his leg under hers as he squirmed his way closer to her.

Felix was watching them now, giddy with his amusement. Nate kept glancing over and looking away quickly. Adam was tracing a line on the map of Wayhaven in their common room and hadn’t seen the mute commotion just yet.

Soon, Grace was situated, essentially on Mason’s lap much to her chagrin, her head tucked into the admittedly very comfortable nook where his pectorals met his deltoids. He brought his hand up to toy with her hair lightly and he was so warm, so comfortable—just an unbearably pleasant extension of that safety and familiarity she felt with him when they were patrolling together.

She could feel his heart beat, a steady gentle thud under her ear. Could smell him, his unscented laundry detergent, and something else—something masculine and sweet, earthy and smoky and just intrinsically him—that scent that had already infiltrated her pillow and her top sheet and her favourite jacket—

That feeling, imbued with his scent, and with the gentle pressure of his hand that had moved from her hair down to her thigh, was like a sedative for her soul.

Of their own volition, drawn by a power she could no more easily control than she could the setting of the sun or the moon rising, her eyelids drooped down, down, down until her eyelashes brushed her cheeks.

Within seconds, her breathing evened out and soft snores filled the room.

Adam paused and turned away from the map to take in the new and unusual noise.

Mason watched with hooded eyes, daring him to make a comment. To say a word about their position or - he felt his canines tingle, a rumble deep in his throat - to try and wake her.

Instead, Adam looked resigned. Regretful, almost.

“She is tired,” he said simply as he regarded her.

Felix and Nate looked over as well, various iterations of affection and sympathy over their faces.

“We forget, sometimes,” he continued, crossing his muscular arms over his broad chest, “that she is a human among us. She does not have the stamina we do.”

“She works hard,” Mason couldn’t help but say, deliberately keeping his voice soft. “She works herself to the bone for this town. These ingrates,” he ended on a semi-snarl. “And then does it all again at night for the Agency.”

“She enjoys her work,” Nate responded pragmatically. “Though she could probably benefit from more rest time.”

“There is too much going on right now for rest.” Adam stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Though, I suppose, it’s alright if she rests for the moment.”

“Plus, I wouldn’t move her from Mason’s lap right now unless you want your head torn from your body,” Felix cackled, leaning back gleefully in his chair.

Mason shot him a stare that could wither a cactus and Felix bit his lip, still hiding a smile.

“Do you want to continue, Adam?” Nate asked. “Or should we call it a night?”

Adam looked thoughtful. “As long as she is comfortable, let’s finish up. Mason can fill her in later.”

“Oh, I’ll be happy to fill her—shh, shh shut up!” he cut his own vulgarity off with a hiss as Nate loudly groaned and Felix’s cackles unleashed themselves further. He glared at everyone. “I’ll tell her what you said,” he muttered finally, nodding towards Adam. “Let’s just get this over with.”

As Adam droned on, Mason couldn’t help but look down at the detective, her soft snores and steady heartbeat a familiar litany to his ears these days. He felt the soft firmness of her thigh under his splayed fingers. Felt the rush of air on his chest as she breathed in and out. Watched her rosy lips pout in sleep, the crescent of her dark eyelashes on a lightly freckled cheek, a light brown strand of hair flopping over one closed eye.

Her hand had come up to rest under her chin, fingers loosely curled. Absently, he brushed the hair back from her forehead and then, again without giving much thought to it, he brought his pointer finger up to stroke the soft inside of her palm gently. Her fingers jerked reflexively and closed, holding him there securely.

He felt a tug come from somewhere deep in his chest at the sight of her holding his finger like that. It felt so trusting, so innocent, this simple unconscious gesture. As though, even in sleep she wanted to keep him close.

Shaking his head abruptly to rid himself of the intrusive and unexpected thought, he renewed his focus on Adam—no, Nate, who was now talking.

He left his hand in hers, though.

*

tags: @utterlyinevitable , @ethansramsey , @otherworldlypresents , @aworldoffandoms , @raleighcarrera , @ejunkiet , @starrystarrytrouble , @terrm9 , @openheartthot , @octobereighth , @campsearchlight , @coldshrugs , @kelseaaa , @homeformyheart , @intothestrawberryjar , @magebastard , @kodysteach , @newfangledsoul , @silma-words , @lalizah , @detective-sweetheart , @lem-20 (if you don’t want to be tagged for twc, mason x detective, and/or prompts, please let me know!)

[deewithani]

Raindrops in the Wind - Chapter 2

Chapter Rating: T

Work Rating: Explicit (18+)

Pairing: Jango Fett x F!Reader

Word count: Approx. 2.1k

Warnings: Justice system abuse, light blood and gore, medical procedures performed by someone not medically qualified, discussion of potentially gross food.

A/N: Again, canon gets blown out of the water, borrowing from here and there to weave the narrative. OC's abound. No Jango in this chapter (he'll be back soon, I promise), we're learning about the reader. I know almost nothing about healthcare, so take that as you will and don't do what the reader does. Milvayne and the underworld are canon, but I took some liberties on my descriptions of the underworld (since I know next to nothing about it outside of this article: https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Milvayne)

Chapters will list their individual ratings, work is rated Explicit (18+) for eventual explicit content.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Word had spread quickly through the underworld on Milvayne, passing from mouth to filth covered ear, each resident hearing the words a multitude of times: from the mouths of bandits, scavengers, old men dying in the gutter, children picking the pockets of newcomers who hadn't yet discovered they came to a foul place even the light of the maker refused to touch.

“Aleda Vole has work.”

The nature of that work was never spoken aloud, and endless throngs of people came and went from Vole's pawn shop, with no end in sight. To you it looked like Aleda was working night and day, the colorful 'Open' sign lit up no matter the time you passed by on your way to another house call.

You had been sentenced to exile here barely a year prior, punishment for your part in a bacta heist that went wrong. It had became increasingly difficult for the clinic you worked for to obtain basic medical supplies, so you and several of your coworkers took it upon yourselves to steal the supplies from a medical supply transport that was scheduled to arrive in Milvayne City. The heist should have went off without a hitch. The proper palms were greased, heads were turned the other way, but if something seems to good to be true, it probably is.

The theft itself was easy. You and your teammates were able to load up everything you needed and leave the dock without a single pursuer following in your footsteps. A not insignificant amount of credits had successfully bought an easy getaway.

What it failed to buy was silence. Someone was a rat.

Several weeks went by, enough that you felt you had been in the clear, when Milvayne Authority officers kicked down the front door of the clinic, arresting anyone unlucky enough to be in the building. A slew of trials commenced the same day and people were found guilty en masse. Every man, woman, and child that faced trial that day was convicted without so much as a second thought, and people were forced over the ledge into the underworld by the hundreds that day.

Since then, you had used your meager medical skills to barter for food, shelter, and literally anything else that was offered to you. It didn't matter if you were paid in half a yard of soiled fabric, it could be turned into something you could use, it could be traded for something else that you may need, or the new item you traded it for could be bartered yet again. It was a shame you had no real medical experience, though. Being able to heal was worth it's weight in gold, but you had been educated in the upkeep and maintenance of technical systems. Unfortunately there wasn't much need in someone repairing holoprojectors or hover-stretchers here. Those things rarely ever came over the ledge, and when they did they were grabbed up by people with a lot more power than yourself.

What enabled your survival is the fact that your job in the clinic had a lot of down time. If it wasn't time for the scheduled maintenance of the equipment, or something wasn't broke, you made yourself busy straightening up exam rooms, stocking, and chatting with the nurses and doctors at the clinic. You watched them perform basic medical procedures and listened in when they explained to their patients the various illnesses and injuries they were experiencing. Because of the continual lack of supplies you saw cuts being stitched by hand, home-made poultices being applied, and injuries being cleaned and dressed. You were even asked to stand in and assist a handful of times, whenever the need of the patients outpaced the staff that was available.

But now here you were, trudging along a muddy path, checking on your next “patient”, an old woman who cut her hand on some scrap metal she had been trying to pull from a pile near her shack. A friend of hers had found you and asked that you hurry to help, as she was bleeding heavily and she heard that you had some antibiotics. It was true, but the vial had been hard to come by, and you hoped that it would be a secret until you absolutely had to use them.

But this is the underworld of Milvayne. The only time secrets are held is when it is beneficial to hold them, and that is a rarity.

The path kept winding, twists and turns bracketed by piles of junk that looked as if they would fall over with a gust of wind, if such a pleasant thing as wind blew down here. The air was stale and all things smelled of rot, as if the odor had wormed its way into the being of every creature that made this place its home. You got used to it, after a time, but occasionally you would be woken from a pleasant dream as a whiff of death passed by your nose.

You finally made it to the door of your “patient”, a shack that was little more than a lean to with a front wall and overhang. Makeshift metal chimes hung from eaves, but unless they were moved by the hand of a passerby they would play no song without the wind to blow through them. They were an odd thing to see here as well. It wasn't safe to leave anything of value outside your dwelling. The common rule was that if it was outside, it was scrap, and anyone could take scrap. Crudely made and as useless as they were, they had value as trinkets. There was little good and enjoyable here, but people loved things they could play, at least as tools to take their minds off the reality of their circumstances.

This peculiar shack stood alone among the debris, short and squat, but solid, it's back crammed against another tall pile of scrap. You raised your fist to knock on the door, but it opened swiftly before your knuckles reached the wood. Before you stood an old woman, petite, back bowed and leaning on a makeshift cane. You stared for a moment, she had a rough, worn face creased by the passage of time, and a strong nose that looked too long for her thin face. Her hair was pure white, and was pulled back in a tight pony tail. You tried to see her eyes, but her eyelids were heavy and swollen. She looked as if she may have been retaining fluids.

The woman before you lifted her cane and let the end drop to the floor, letting out a bang that pulled you back to the present. “Well, honey. You the healer? Don't just stand there”, she said, before turning and moving back in the shack. You followed behind quietly, entering her darkened home. Inside was much more inviting than out. It was only one room, and there were a few piles of scrap in the small space, but the rest was cozy. A small cot was placed against the back wall, covered with a clean blanket and a fluffy pillow, and on the front wall was a stove, cooking what smelled like a very delicious stew you had been served before by other residents of the underworld. Two chairs and a small table sat in the middle of the room, finishing out the rest of the space.

“Your friend said you cut your hand on some scrap, ma'am.” you told her. “I ain't no ma'am, honey, call me Zola”, the old woman replied as she gestured for you to take a seat. You sat down and took her hand, noticing the small bit of cloth she had wrapped around it. It was stained red with blood at the palm, but unusually clean around the top. Her hands were suspiciously clean as well, considering she was digging for scrap in one of the dirtiest places in the galaxy.

You opened your makeshift medical bag and found your small pack of needles and the thread you had made from the remnants of an old blanket you had found peaking out of the mud the first day you had arrived. It was filthy and too small to be usable as much more than a cleaning cloth, but you had painstakingly washed and scrubbed the fibers until they were clean and you could separate them one by one. It had taken you the better part of the week to get enough usable thread, but it had been worth it in the end. Another medic traded you a couple of bent needles for a handful of your thread, and you were able to start the business of survival.

You carefully removed the bandage from her hand, taking care not to pull where it had began to stick to the blood. “This is a deep cut, Zola. I'll have to sew it up. You'll need some antibiotics too, and I've only got a little bit.” The cut wasn't very dirty, but there was very little fresh water to be had here, and you had none on you. You were going to have to sew her palm up as is, and you hoped a shot of antibiotics would keep her from getting an infection.

Carefully you threaded one of your needles and went to work. Zola was quiet while you worked, but you could see her scrunch her face and hold her breath whenever you would push the needle through her skin. The wound continued bleeding as you worked, so you used the wrapping she had bandaged herself with to clean up as you went along. By the time you were through you had placed 7 stitches in the palm of the old woman's hand, and the bleeding had finally stopped.

“There, good as new Zola. I need you to stand up and pull down the top of your pants for me so I can give you the antibiotics.” You filled your needle with the antibiotics and injected them into the top of her buttocks, a place that was least likely to cause her too much pain.

You were worried about the old woman, here alone at the end of the winding path. Afraid that she would meet her end here from whatever was causing the excess fluid. “Zola, you need to see a real doctor about the fluid you're holding. I'm worried that you've got a bigger problem than a cut on your hand. I'll ask around to see if there is someone who can help, but I don't know if I can find anyone. Have your friend ask around. Please.”

“Don't worry honey. I will. I'll be alright until I can find someone. Don't worry about me.”

“Alright, now that I'm finished, what are you going to pay with?” Zola looked up at you and cocked her head to the side. “Well, honey, I don't know what you charge. I don't have any money, and I don't have anything of value I can give you.” You thought for a moment. You hadn't survived here for a year without being flexible with how your clients paid you. Your kind heart wouldn't allow you to not help someone, even if they didn't have any way to settle up with you. You had been left in dire straits from time to time by your personal policy, but your kindness had also won you friends who looked out for you as well.

“I don't do credit, but if you give me a bowl of that stew I'll consider you paid in full. Does it have any meat?”

If the stew did have meat, it was best not to ask what kind. There were very few animals down here, anything not sentient was quickly grabbed and put into the closest stew pot for dinner. The meat in this pot could be anything from a scrap rat to grubs and worms. It didn't matter, though. That bowl was a matter of survival. Jabba the Hutt could be cooking in that pot and it wouldn't make any difference.

“Honey, you may have saved my life today. The least I can do is have you here for supper. Sit down for a while and let's talk. I think I have some information you can use.”

You sat in silence and ate your stew as Zola spoke of her years in the underworld. How she came to find herself in this place. How she found love. How she raised a fine, strong daughter. How they survived. The stew was delicious, and it was a rare treat to hear stories that held more than pain and sorrow.

As you finished your meal Zola rose and walked over to you. She placed her hand on your shoulder and leaned over to whisper in your ear.

“Aleda Vole has work. You should go see her.”

__________

Taglist: @latenightsthoughtsnstuff @gummywurme @bobabitch88 @the-empress-strikes-back @tacticalsparkles @rebelpitstop

If anyone wants added to my taglist, let me know ☺️

[itssuppertim3]

Second Chance (Miraak x Reader) Part 4:

The truth,

Before we knew it, a week had already flown by. Much like a mother educating her child, I taught Bjorn many things he might've forgotten about the world. I reminded him about the war, to which he was thoroughly shocked over, I demonstrated how to plant various plants and crops, and I even gave him a few spell tones to study.

The two of us sat in the shade for a while, chatting away. I remembered Elsbeth throwing several mischievous glances my way throughout the week. In my own confusion, I let it be and pretended to act aloof. "Did you know that you can even heal plants?" I flipped over to a certain page in the book and ran my finger across the wording.

I provided him a quick example by plucking a dandelion from the ground and snapping its stem in two. I focused a small percentage of healing magic over the damage and let the energy flow from my palm. With a swipe of my hand, the flower was replenished in seconds. "How interesting, though I fail to see how it can be beneficial," he confessed. "It usually helps with alchemy, but judging from how skilled you become, you could even fasten plant growth and create a barrier for defense!" He truly seemed to be intrigued by the lesson. "You're a good teacher, Y/n." My cheeks burned at his compliment and I scratched the back of my neck bashfully. "I'm really not that good. I just read a lot and work hard. Plus, there's still so much I need to learn," I clipped. "Hey, you two! I have some jobs for you to do," Elsbeth called from the porch. Bjorn rose to his feet and lended me a hand, which I gladly took.

Once we made it back to the cottage, we were both given a task. Bjorn was requested to cook dinner, and I was sent to feed the chickens. One would only think our roles would be the opposite. "I'm gonna visit Alvor for some supplies before it gets too late. Don't let me down!" We waved her goodbye as she slowly retreated down the hill. "Would you like for me to help you with the feed?" he asked. "No. I think I can manage," I laughed. "Just make sure not to set the kitchen on fire."

When he retreated into the house, I went to fetch the chicken feed. Roosters and hens combined, they swarmed around my feet, demanding their supper. "Alright, Alright! No need to get aggressive!" Their attention diverted in a flash as soon as I began to scatter their food around. While they were busy pecking away, I exited the pen and headed back towards the cottage. Before I could reach it however, I saw two figures approaching.

It seemed to be a woman and a man dressed in gawdy uniforms. "You there," the man snapped. I stood my ground and flashed a cautious smile. "Yes? Can I help you?" They both stopped just feet in front of me. Now that I could see them more clearly, they looked like something straight out of a nightmare! Their apparel was oddly fashioned, both torn and sloppily stitched. But what frightened me the most were the masks they wore over their faces. I gulped and tried to remain calm.

The woman retrieved a rolled up slip of paper from her pocket and held it to my face. My stomach flipped upon examining the illustration of a character with the very same mask that I still had in my bag. "Have you seen someone who looks like this?" he interrogated. I was somewhat able to maintain my stoic facade, though I could feel it cracking. "No. I haven't," I said, stiff as a log. "She lies, just as that deceiver did," the woman hissed. "I will ask again." I yelped when he grasped my shoulder. I sucked in a breath after feeling a dangerous heat emitting from his hand. "Where is our Master Miraak?" My eyes grew as wide as stones at his words.

"What...?"

My blood ran cold as he ignited a flame into his other hand. My shoulder started to burn painfully. "I don't know what you're talking about," I whimpered. Still, the man refused to release his hold on me. My heart drummed against my ribs and my throat ran dry. These people were going to kill me. I didn't even have enough time to watch my life play out in front of me.

Suddenly, I heard the door open from behind me and a heavy pair of footsteps marched over to us. The two culprits beamed in delight at his presence. "Master Miraak--!" A large hand swooped in and clutched the exterior of the man's face, while another shielded my eyes. I could hear my attacker kick and squirm under my savior's deadly grip. I flinched in terror as his entire body burst into flames. The heat completely overwhelmed me, licking my face as it did. And oh, the screaming. That agonizing screaming. My ears couldn't take anymore.

I knew the other one had been running by now. I cringed at the thought of being forced to endure the same awful shrieks of pain again. I tried to claw my way to safety, but I couldn't move. I was completely and utterly paralyzed under Bjorn’s touch.. "Fus, Ro Dah!" A deafening force reverberated through my very bones and melted through my skin. I couldn't even begin to comprehend it. Was that what a shout sounded like?

Although I was finally granted permission to see, I didn't dare open my eyes. I couldn't. But eventually, I did. All that remained was a pile of ashes, though there were no signs of a second one. Bjorn, or Miraak, had already left my side and was now facing away from me. I peered at him in a mixture of fear and disbelief, and something else. Sadness. I was sad. I was so terribly sad because I knew he was going to leave us; he was going to leave me. Now that his secret was out, there was no reason to stay. We were both aware that I was scared, but I wasn't scared of him. I was scared for his safety, I was scared of those people that were after him. But most importantly, I was scared for myself. I didn't want to say goodbye to someone who had brought so much light into my tiny world. And I was selfish for it.

On impulse, I ran forward and threw my arms around him. He stiffened sharply, but didn't utter a word. "Don't leave. Please don't leave." My voice was barely above a whisper, so I was certain that his ears didn't catch my plea. But he eventually tilted his head down at me in a sullen silence. My chest panged at the sight of his face. He didn't want to leave, but his words spoke the opposite. "There will be more. Your life has already been endangered once, and I can't let that happen again. Let me go, Y/n," he demanded. "I won't," I cried. I only held him tighter. "I know I'm selfish and naive and foolish, but I won't let you go!" One by one, tears slid down my cheeks and bled through the fabric of Miraak's shirt. I always loathed the way I sobbed. They were a loud and ugly mess, but that didn't stop me regardless of how embarrassing it was.

I soon found myself trembling on the ground with my hand now clutching the hem of his trousers. The tall ravenette slowly crouched to my level and reached out. However, he stopped himself and went to retract his arm away. Before he could, I grabbed his hand and held it against my damp cheek. He traced his thumb over my eyelid to rid of my tears, but frowned at his unsuccess. "What would your sister think? She'd have my head for making you cry like this," he said suddenly. "Yeah, she probably would. Don't tell me that's why you're so eager to run away," I jested. He was relieved to see me revert back to my cheerful self, but the corners of his lips flattened once again.

"You are hurt because of me. If I stay, then..."

His sentence escaped him when I shuffled closer to where we were only a breath apart. "Then take me with you." I then leaned in and softly connected our lips. I was fairly inexperienced with kissing, so I didn't know if I was doing it right. All I could do was scrunch my eyes shut and pray that he understood. My heart leapt when he returned the kiss. His lips were chapped and his scruff tickled my cheek. Everything felt so surreal. It was as if I was under some sort of hazy hypnosis. Miraak's hand cupped the back of my head while his other squeezed the small of my waist. I enclosed my arms around his neck in wild euphoria. We both seperated with great reluctance, exhaling heavily. I giggled as he began to peck every inch of skin of my face starting from my jaw to my temple. Knowing him, he probably hadn’t even held a woman in centuries.

I grimaced, instantly reminded of my current delima. Miraak threw his arms back as if he was the cause for my pain. "Come, let's go back," he recommended. I nearly released a squeal when he hoisted me into his fit arms. "What are you--what are you doing?" I stammered, face as red as the evening sky. I knew our body comparisons were different in both height and size, but this was the first time he made me feel so tiny. "I am carrying you," he stated a-matter-of-factly. "It's just my shoulder. I-I can still walk!"

“You’re still injured. It’d be shameful of me not to at least take you off your feet for a short while. Such a gentleman! Miraak's bicep curved against my back and my other shoulder bounced against his broad chest as he walked. I wasn't convinced that my face could get any redder! After acting so boldly a moment ago, I should've expected the embarrassment to catch up with me. I couldn't help but voice out a squeak after his fingers slid a bit further past the bend of my knee. "Are you alright?" It was an easy question to answer, but my mind was so scrambled I couldn't form a single syllable!

I buried my face into his shirt and shook my head. "Are you in any pain?" How could I be? I was far too distracted by my current situation, I couldn't focus on anything else! Again, I managed a silent 'no'. Miraak stood in contemplation before resuming towards the porch steps. He placed me down with great care before sitting down beside me. I avoided eye contact as he closely examined my face and held his forehead against my own. "You're warm. You must be running a fever," he concluded. I fidgeted under his touch. "Um, I don't think I have a fever," I timidly denied. Miraak's confusion roused. "Then why are you so red?" He was so close, it was like he was trying to see through my soul! "I just--," I stumbled. "I'm just a little embarrassed, is all..." He sat there a minute before also averting his gaze. "Oh. I see." The First Dragonborn cleared his throat. The two of us sat there quietly, a blushing mess.

Once Miraak was able to regain his composure, he slowly etched forward once more. He then directed his finger to my shoulder. "May I?" I nodded curtly and steered my sights to the floor. Miraak gingerly tugged at the neckline of my blouse and inspected the raw burn on my skin. I waited with interest to see how skilled he was with Restoration magic. He probably had hundreds of years’ worth of experience. A soothing warmth enveloped the entirety of my arm. It reminded me of the many hugs and kisses Pa gave me on the days before he left for yet another journey. The nostalgia brought a smile to my lips as I continued to reminisce back on my childhood.

Alas, with a snap of a finger that warmth had abandoned me. I peeked at my injury, which vanished without a trace. "If I would've known how good you are, I wouldn't have wasted time teaching you things you already know," I chuckled. The man hung a light smirk over his features before drawing me in for another kiss. "You've taught me many things, Y/n. And I am hoping for you to teach me many more." By now, the only thing I could hear was a high-pitched ringing with Elsbeth's voice echoing in the background. Wait, Elsbeth's voice? "Well, well~! I'm hardly gone for thirty minutes and you two are all over each other," she taunted, clearly amused by the display in front of her. Miraak and I both jolted away from one another and fiddled our fingers in ungodly embarrassment. “El...! When—when did you get back?” I stammered. “Oh, not long. But just in time to see the juicy bit! Tell me, how long have you been together?” Knowing that she had already seen him kiss me was humiliating enough, and she wouldn’t be my sister if she didn’t make it worse by talking about it!

That night, I told her everything, well, almost everything. Miraak and I decided that it would only complicate matters further by revealing the truth to her. Even now, she was terrified of the stories. I couldn’t even begin to imagine her reaction after realizing that it was him the entire time. I neglected to mention the assaulters, as well as the ash pile on the ground outside. As odd as it was, Elsbeth was completely unbothered by our newly founded relationship. “Y/n, you’re my little sister. Sure, I’m mad. I’m mad that a man succeeded in stealing your heart, but I’m not Pa. If you two are in love, who am I to stop you? I want you to live a full life, as well as a happy one,” she had said. In a matter of seconds, I took her into my arms and thanked her profusely. In addition, she even consented in allowing me to travel with him.

Although Miraak was paranoid, we stayed at the ranch for another week before packing our gear. I searched around my room, collecting an assortment of knickknacks and storing them into my bag. As I opened my satchel, a certain mask greeted me. I held it gingerly in my hands. The eye slits peered up at me in such an eerie way, yet I felt no fear. If anything, staring down at the pitiful thing made me feel almost melancholy. That damaged wood carving was once a shell of such a wonderful person. I brought the mask to my chest and held it there a moment with a somber smile. “Is something the matter?” I felt a warm hand on my shoulder, causing me to turn around. “No, I’m good. You’ll probably be needing this back, huh? I’m sorry I kept it so long,” I chuckled. Miraak examined the worn face piece with uncertainty. He ran his thumbs along every edge and crease and even tipped it upside down. “How do you feel?” I asked him. His green orbs met mine in a look of puzzlement. “I feel... nothing,” he stated simply. “Seeing this mask after so long, I imagined I would be more impacted. But instead it just feels silly to be haunted by it for so long. It all feels like a tucked-away nightmare.” My lips stretched into a grin as I leaned forth and wrapped my arms snuggly around him. "And that’s exactly what it is. It’s all a tucked-away nightmare.” Miraak hummed, smiling at me with adoration. He then bent down to my level and gave me a soft Eskimo kiss.

When we left home that day, we bid our farewells to Elsbeth and I made sure to do the same with all of the cows, goats, chickens, and pigs as we went. Once we reached the gate, I looked back at the ranch one last time. I thought about all of the many times I walked past this gate thinking about how extraordinarily dull my life was. Everyday, I fantasized about romance and adventure. I didn’t think someone with my position would be blessed with such an opportunity, but here I was, madly in love and on my way to start an adventurous life of my own. “Did you leave something behind?” I faced him and shook my head. “No. Let’s go!”

——————————————————————————

Yayy, finally finished the 4th part (this took me freaking forever)

[walkerwords]

“The Savior Sessions” Part 20 of 33 - Negan x GN!Reader

IMAGE CREDIT: AMC/THE WALKING DEAD

SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: The others return to Alexandria as the reader begins to recover. Michonne seeks out Negan while Daryl speaks to the reader. Still dealing with what happened at the fair, nobody is ready to relax and nobody is ready to back down.

Word Count: 3327

Warning: Swearing, Brief Mention of Child Abuse

Song I Wrote To: “Yours” by Ella Henderson

Note: This is definitely a filler, but I enjoyed writing a lot of the conversations.

----------

As the sun rose again in Virginia, everything was covered in blinding-white snow.

You lay in a soft bed as a thick bandage was wrapped around your torso, securing the fresh sutures in place. Negan’s body was pressed against yours as he slept soundly by your side. In the chair next to the window, Siddiq slept as well.

Everything that had happened the previous night came back to you. The storm, the pain, and the look on Negan’s face had you taking a deep breath. The past few weeks had been trying to say the least. You had lost too many people and for a while, you hadn’t let yourself feel the pain of those losses. Yet, as you laid in that bed which you knew was in Aaron’s home, you felt your heart being crushed in your chest. 

What were you supposed to do now? How were you all supposed to get through it? Your thoughts went to Carol and Ezekiel. How were they supposed to move on after Henry? The death of a child was never easy, especially when they were taken by force with violence and blood. 

There was a feeling of loneliness in that room. You began to think about what would have happened if you hadn’t gone after Negan and Judith in that storm. Would they have found their way back? Or would you be looking for their frozen bodies in the bright morning instead? 

You always hated to think of Negan as a Walker, but you had never really let yourself think of him as actually dead. Negan was the ultimate survivor and it was as if nothing could touch him. You started to wonder if perhaps that wasn’t true after all. 

Your injury stung as you shifted in bed, waking up your companion. “Hey,” he whispered. 

“Hi,” you said back, blinking up at him. 

“Get any sleep?” he asked with a yawn. 

“Enough,” you said and then winced again. 

“It’ll feel better in a few days,” Negan said. “Siddiq told me it wasn’t even as deep as my injury. You’re gonna be just fine.”

“That’s good,” you said with a sigh. “How’s Judith?”

“Finally with her brother,” Negan said with a glance towards the closed door. “She wouldn’t leave the doorway until she knew you were okay. Shivering and all with that damn dog at her side. Laura finally was able to drag her away just as you lost consciousness.” 

“I don’t remember that,” you said with a frown. 

“I don’t blame you, you were pretty out of it,” he said, brushing his fingers along your temple. “Don’t do that again, okay?” 

“Do what?”

“Scare the shit out of me,” he said easily. 

“Like you haven’t done it to me,” you said with your brows raised. 

“I’m different,” he said. 

“Not really,” you countered. Negan sighed, realizing he was losing the argument if you could even call it that. Instead, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to the side of your head. 

“I’m glad you’re okay, (Y/N),” he whispered. 

“Me too.”

“Siddiq wants to move you to the infirmary as soon as everyone is up and about,” Negan said. 

“What about you?” you asked. 

“I ain’t gonna leave you,” he promised. “I’ll be there until they can shovel the snow out of my cell.”

“You know,” you began, “as much as I hate storms, they have been beneficial for us.” 

“Amen to that.” 

Exhaustion was still leaning heavily on you as you began to drift off again. Negan kept his arms around you as you succumbed to the fatigue. However, he was wide awake, determined to just enjoy being by your side like this even with the good doctor snoring a few feet away. 

It wasn’t long after you fell back asleep when the door opened. He figured it was Judith or Laura, but he didn’t expect to see Rosita peeking her head in. She noticed Siddiq first and rolled her eyes, however, when she turned to look at Negan her face remained neutral. 

“Do they need anything?” she asked him, watching as you slept. 

“No, but thanks,” he said awkwardly.

His relationship with Rosita was an odd one. While he had murdered Abraham in front of her, Rosita didn’t seem to store that same amount of hate and venom for him as Maggie did. However, she had been the one to try and shoot him after he gutted Spencer in the street.

He also knew that she would never forgive him for all the things he did and he didn’t expect her to. He just hoped that one day they could be civil with one another for more than a few seconds at a time. 

Perhaps that started now. Just as she was about to leave, he stopped her. 

“Rosita,” he said and she turned to look at him. “Uh, I—” 

“I know,” she said quickly. It wasn’t much and he knew it was never going to be okay, but it was something. He nodded to her and then with a nod of her own, she left the room, closing the door tightly behind her.

----------

Michonne and the others arrived home as soon as the storm calmed down. 

After a cheerful reunion and a few snowballs thrown back and forth, Judith finally told her mother what had transpired the night before. And so, Michonne went in search of her Daughter’s hero. 

Again. 

Negan was leaning his forearms on the side of your bed in the infirmary when Michonne pushed open the door, letting the cool air in. Siddiq had ordered you to the infirmary as soon as it was clear enough to walk. Negan hadn’t even let you take a step without lifting you in his arms and taking you himself. 

While you were finally feeling as if your toes weren’t going to fall off, the pain in your side was still near excruciating. You were asleep before Negan could even place the blanket over your shoulders. He had been watching over you all morning and didn’t want to move. However, the look on Michonne’s face had him getting up and walking around the corner, careful not to wake you. 

Negan stood before Michonne awkwardly but eventually made the first attempt at a conversation. 

“Look who’s back,” he said quietly. Michonne then placed her hands in front of her and looked him in the eye. 

“Thank you, for saving her,” Michonne said and Negan nodded to her. “Again.” She went on, “let’s try not to make it a third.”

“That one’s on her, Boss,” Negan said. 

“Yes, I suppose it is,” Michonne said with the faintest hint of a smile and then glanced over to where you were sleeping. “How are they?”

“Bit busted up,” Negan said with a sigh. “But they’ll live.”

“Not a good feeling, is it?” Michonne said. 

“What?”

“Thinking you’re about to lose someone you care about,” Michonne finished, but there was no malice behind her statement. Negan ran a hand over his head, feeling every beat of his heart in his chest. 

“No, no it is not,” Negan admitted. “I thought I’d be waking up to white eyes in the morning rather than tired ones.”

“I know that fear,” Michonne said and then they were both quiet until Negan once again broke the silence. 

“You know,” Negan said, “Dr. Babydaddy said that you got caught in the storm with the Royalty Brigade. Is everyone okay?”

“Do you care?” Michonne asked with raised brows. 

“Look, I don't know any of those people from Adam,” he said. “I do know what it's like to lose a kingdom, see things fall apart. And it sucks ass.”

“The Sanctuary’s a shithole,” Michonne said as she leaned against the wall next to her. Negan chuckled slightly. 

“Well, hell, I could have told you that,” Negan said and then something dawned on him. “You cut through Alpha’s territory,” he realized. “Ballsy.”

“We don't even know if they were there,” Michonne said. 

“They’ll know you were there,” Negan said. “Something tells me they got eyes everywhere.” 

“That’s reassuring,” Michonne scoffed. 

“I ain’t trying to be reassuring, Michonne. I’m trying to be real.”

“I know,” she said. “I know you are, you’re not a bull-shitter.” 

“No, I’m not.”

Michonne nodded, getting where he was coming from. No matter what people thought about the man, he never lied when it mattered and he wasn’t going to sugar coat anything. 

“How bad is it?” Michonne asked then, gesturing to you in the bed. 

“How bad is what?” he asked. 

“You forget that I’ve been with them through all the ugly shit, Negan. I know about the way they have nightmares and how they shut down and internalize everything.” Negan frowned, but he knew what she was talking about.

“I can tell that they’re closed off, even to me. They told me a little bit of what happened, but I know there’s more,” Negan said, glancing over at you. 

“Do you know much about Terminus?” Michonne asked. 

“(Y/N) told me,” Negan said. “Some fucked up shit.”

“Yeah,” Michonne agreed. “(Y/N) wouldn’t eat for a while afterward. Even after we got here, they could barely look at food without gagging. The nightmares came the first night after we got out of that slaughterhouse and I still see them flinch when raw meat is in view. No matter what they tell you, there’s always going to be more.”

“I’m not sure I’m equipped to handle that,” Negan admitted. 

“You are,” Michonne told him. “Can I trust that you will help them through this?”

“What exactly are you asking me to do, Michonne?” Michonne pushed off the wall and headed for the door. As she turned the doorknob she gestured to your sleeping form. 

“(Y/N) helped you,” Michonne reminded him. “It’s time to return the favor.”

--------

The next time you woke up, you were greeted by a different face. 

“Lydia?” you groaned as you tried to sit up. She was there in an instant, trying to help you. You winced in pain as you tugged at your stitches.

“Are you in pain?” Lydia asked, worried. 

“It won’t last long,” you assured her as you finally got a good look at her. Her cheeks were pink, but she looked unharmed. You then glanced around and noticed it was just the two of you. 

“I saw him leaving with Gabriel,” Lydia said. “He’s helping with clearing the wall and gates.” You were surprised to hear that. 

“You met Negan?” you asked her, but Lydia was shaking her head. 

“Just saw him and asked Daryl who he was,” Lydia said. “Kind of hard to miss considering how tall he is.”

“Everyone always notices the height first,” you said with a small smile. Lydia nodded then as she picked at the loose threads of her gloves. You lay your hand over hers. “Are you doin’ okay?” She shrugged then, but when she looked back at you, tears were welling up in her eyes. “Ah, kid,” you said as you pulled her into your arms gently. 

Lydia leaned on your shoulder, careful of your injury as she cried. You held her back as tight as you could, smoothing down the bits of hair that escaped the hat on her head. “I should have told Ezekiel sooner,” Lydia said into your arm. “I should have known what she was going to do.” 

“None of this is on you,” you said to her, fighting your own tears. “Do not think that you had anything to do with this. Alpha did this and she did it to hurt all of us, but most importantly, she did it to hurt you. That is not what a parent is supposed to do. They are supposed to protect their children from hurt, not invoke it.” 

“She was all I had and now she doesn’t even want me,” Lydia said with a cough. You grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her back so you could look at her. 

“She was not all you had, not anymore. I’m here, Daryl’s here, Michonne and the others too. Nobody is going to abandon you again. We care about you, Lydia.” 

“You don’t know that,” Lydia said as she wiped at her face. “I don’t even know if I’m able to care about someone anymore.” You frowned, taking a moment before deciding to tell her a story.

“I lost someone at the beginning of this whole thing,” you began. “I’ve never told anyone this, but it was one of my old students. His father used to beat him as your mother beat you. He didn’t think he was capable of having a family or anyone that cared about him enough to fight for him. I wasn’t going to let him think that he was that alone in this world. I got him out of his home when everything happened and I protected him when his father tried to kill us after he turned from a bite.

“What I didn’t know was that this kid, Elliot, had already been bitten by his father. He tried to comfort his dad when he was dying and his father turned too quickly. After everything that his father did to him, he still tried to show him just an ounce of love, even if he didn’t think he deserved it. Elliot was always capable of showing that he cared and that he had compassion. Even when he was dying, he tried to make sure that I was okay. You don’t lose that, Lydia. You were born with a kind heart and you’re not going to lose that.” 

Lydia was looking at you as you let the tears fall on your cheeks. You had never told that story to anyone, not even Carl or Rick. Thinking of Elliot dying in that school gymnasium opened up that hole in your heart again. It wasn’t long after his death that you found your way to the hills and met Carl and Daryl. Elliot had asked you to go find a new family and so you did. Now, it was time for Lydia to realize that she had now found hers. 

“Don’t give up on yourself, okay?” you asked, wiping away a few stray hairs off her face. Lydia nodded as she lay back down and curled up as she finally let herself rest for the first time in a long time.

------

Later that night, you were awake but Negan was asleep. 

Michonne and Gabriel had once again let Negan stay by your side for another night. It wasn’t permanent, but his cell wouldn’t be back to normal for a few nights. They kept the infirmary door locked at night and Laura or someone would remain on watch inside, but Negan was still there. 

His heavy winter coat was around your shoulders as you flipped through an old medical book in the candlelight of the room. You were getting to the section on breaks and fractures when footsteps came around the corner. Heavy boots that you immediately recognized as Daryl’s.

His eyes fell on Negan who was fast asleep in the bed next to yours, his arm tossed over his face. Daryl frowned, but then looked at you, and the tension in his body lessened. “Hey,” you whispered. 

“Hey, yourself,” he said, sitting in the chair next to you. 

“He sleeps like a log,” you said. “I don’t think an air siren could wake him up.”

“Just one more thing for me to find annoyin’ about him,'' Daryl said and you rolled your eyes. “I heard ya had an interesting night.” 

“Yeah, had to save your damn dog, didn’t she? Always the little hero,” you said with a small smile. 

“M’glad your okay,” Daryl said. 

“Me too,” you said, gripping his hand in the low light. He gripped yours back, feeling the solidarity between the two of you. “You were so stupid to go through their territory,” you said. 

“I know,” he sighed. “I guess we just gotta wait for the payback now.”

“I hate that she has this hold on us,” you said. 

“We’re gonna figure this out, (Y/N),” he said. “I ain’t gonna let her hurt anyone else.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you warned. Daryl sighed, leaning on the edge of your bed before looking behind him at Negan again. 

“So, you’re good, then? The two of you?” he said, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder. You nodded and then hesitated, not sure if you were going to tell him more, but Daryl could tell you wanted to and so he was patient.

He was a man of very few words, but a great listener. However, your relationship with Negan would be something you told Paul about and not Daryl. Then again, there is a first time for everything. 

“I told him I loved him,” you said quickly in a whisper. Daryl froze for a second before nodding and chewing on the skin of his thumb.

Now it was your time to be patient. You let him absorb the information you just laid on him and then you started to get nervous. Maybe this would be the final straw. He seemed to be fine with your feelings at first, but this was more than just glances through iron bars or the sharing of hot tea. 

Eventually, he spoke. “I see,” Daryl said quietly, finally meeting your eyes. 

“That’s all you’re gonna say?” you asked, surprised. 

“I ain’t mad if that’s what you’re gettin’ at,” he said. 

“Are you sure?” you asked.

“Mmhmm,” he said. Which from Daryl was as good as any promise. 

“You still gonna talk to me?” you asked. 

“Always.” 

“Daryl,” you continued, “I want to assure you that if it came down to it, I would fight for this place and these people above everything. Even him,” you said. Daryl gave you a small smile before getting to his feet. From his pocket, he pulled out something you never thought you would see again. 

One of your rifle casings, one of the ones you once fired at the Sanctuary.

Daryl set it in your hand and you could feel the years of corrosion on the inner rim. It felt odd to hold in your hand, but oddly comforting. Looking back at him, you could see that he wanted to believe what you said but didn’t. 

“Daryl?” you asked. 

“Like you said,” he whispered, “don’t make promises ya can’t keep.” 

As Daryl left, you lay in that bed and thought of what was to come. That feeling was back in the air, the one your mother warned you about. Your people had crossed into enemy territory and you knew that what happened at the fair was nowhere near the end of it. 

Alpha wasn’t going to stop and you knew Carol too well to know that she wouldn’t either. A war was coming and as you held that casing in your hand, you wondered how many more lives were going to be lost because of the masked enemy. 

However, there was still the knowledge that all of you were survivors. 

You had survived the CDC, the farm, The Governor, Terminus, and the Wolves. You had even survived the Saviors and their brutal leader, the same leader who lay in the bed next to yours.

All those years ago, Negan had stood before you and your family and welcomed you all to the “New World Order”. If only he had known what that new world would produce and just how terrifying it would be. 

Turning to look at Negan, you could see the steady rise and fall of his breath and it gave you some solace, but not enough. Nothing was going to snuff the fear that crawled along your skin with every minute of wakefulness. The nightmares would be worse, but you did know one thing for sure. 

The day that Alpha made her move, all of you were going to be ready.

AN: And into season 10 we go. There will be a small time jump, but I will work it in as seamlessly as possible.

Tags:

@lucillethings @stark-dreams @amaroho @thanossexual @yes-sir-hotchner @boom-bunny @delusionalteenagewhispers @scootankle @ritajammer21 @writteriguess @tea-atfive @jennydehavilland @waspyyy @yespleasejayhalstead @hoemadegrace @writingdeadangel @huffledor-able541 @pulplorrd @felicisimor​ 

[emospritelet]

Homecoming - chapter 26

Last time, they had sex :)

Here's what happened next

[AO3]

-

The room was warm and dimly-lit, the candles having been snuffed some time ago and the only light coming from the oil lamp and the glowing embers of the dying fire. Ogilvy held Belle close against his chest, her head nestled over his heart and her fingers trailing over his skin. Having her in his arms again was exquisite, and he turned his head, pressing his nose to the top of her head and breathing in the scent of her.

“That was remarkable,” she said quietly, and he smiled, pressing his lips to her hair.

“Yes.”

“Is it always like that?” she asked. “Is it always so wonderful?”

His smile grew.

“I don’t usually cry quite so much,” he said. “But being with you is always special. No matter the circumstances.”

“Well, that’s very encouraging.”

She kissed his chest, nose nuzzling his nipple.

“Everything I’ve read on the subject somehow failed to convey quite how - intimate - it would be,” she added, and his smile grew.

“You’ve read extensively, then?” he asked, and she giggled.

“As much as I can,” she said. “There seems to be a general conspiracy to prevent women finding out about such things. No doubt for our own good, as they see it.”

“Well, given that women are intelligent and rational creatures, I much prefer to let them discover things for themselves,” he said, and she pushed up on one elbow, raising her chin as she met his eyes.

“Most people would consider you rather eccentric, Tristan Ogilvy,” she said.

“Oh, they do,” he remarked. “For which I’m exceedingly thankful.”

She giggled again, nestling against his chest.

“I have to say I agree with you, though,” she said. “I always prefer some knowledge to none at all.”

“You don’t subscribe to the notion that a little knowledge can be a dangerous thing, then?”

“Only when accompanied by an arrogant refusal to listen to those who know better,” she said lightly. “I don’t think either applies in this instance.”

Ogilvy chuckled.

“In that case, you may find some works in my library to be of interest,” he said.

“Hmm.” Her fingers delicately traced a path over his chest, and she glanced up at him. “I feel that knowledge gained through practical experience may also be very beneficial.”

Her eyes were gleaming, and he laughed, kissing her again.

“I’m happy to encourage your study in this area, in that case.”

Belle bit her lip in amusement, glancing away as she blushed. She felt relaxed and content, a warm and heavy feeling that made it hard to stop smiling. The feeling of bliss at being joined with him was ever-present, and their bodies were sticky with heat, slippery with perspiration where they were pressed together. She was eager to experience more, to experiment with touch and taste and lose herself in sensation, but she had read that men needed to rest after, and she was content to limit her curiosity to the exploration of his body. Her fingers caressed the firm planes of his chest, stroking down over his softer belly, learning the feel of him. She traced the path of the scar on his right side, following the curve upwards, and raised her eyes to his.

“How did you get this?” she asked, and he pulled a face.

“A Rùsgadh demon,” he said. “Long claws and nasty tempers. I got careless.”

Her eyes widened a little, and her hand slipped lower, running over his hip and feeling the knotted scar tissue on his thigh. It felt like a burn, and a serious one.

“And this?”

“A fire demon,” he said. “Hadn’t seen one since the tenth century, in Northumberland. The locals called them Villi-Eldr back then. Very destructive, especially in populated areas, so when Doc foresaw a nest hatching, we knew we had to stop it.”

“This feels like it hurt a lot,” she observed, fingers still caressing him, and he chuckled.

“I threw myself into the river to put out the fire,” he said. “Not sure which was worse, the burn on my leg or the week I spent trying to get the river out of my system.”

“Such an exciting life,” she said, sliding the hand back up to his belly, and he sighed.

“I suppose I’ve seen a lot of the world,” he said. “I’ve seen things that most people think are figments of a fevered mind.”

“It must be interesting,” she said, pushing up a little and folding her arms across his chest. “Dangerous, though, I imagine.”

He smiled at that.

“There have been a few near misses in recent years,” he confessed. “We’re both getting old, and it was always harder to deal with these things with only two. We’ve missed you.”

“Does that mean you’ll be expecting me to assist with your fight against the forces of darkness?” she asked, grinning. “It might be difficult, given that I remember nothing of our past.”

“Give Doc a week and he’ll be planning our next trip,” he said, in a wry tone. “Besides, given your thirst for knowledge, I’m sure it won’t take you long to master the basics. I almost pity whatever we come up against.”

She smiled, leaning in to kiss him with a soft pull of lips before settling back, chin pushed into her folded arms.

“How is it that you can remember, and I can’t?” she asked, and he smiled faintly.

“Part of the magic of our bond,” he said. “Three stones used in the ritual that bound us together in the first place. We use them to wake each other.”

“With magic?”

She was aware that she still sounded a little sceptical, and Ogilvy gave her a small grin that suggested he could hear it in her tone.

“When we get home, I’ll show you a little magic,” he said. “I’ll even teach you some.”

That was an intriguing prospect, but she decided to leave it for the moment.

“Tell me more about the stones,” she said.

“The Seer gave them to each of us in the original ritual,” he said. “We carried them in the early years, hung around our necks in leather bags. Later, when we found someone with the skill to work with metal, we had them set in rings. Ordinarily we’d have all three. Doc and I have ours”—he held up his hand, the moonstone gleaming in its thick gold band—”but we haven’t found yours.”

Belle could feel her brow crease in contemplation as she thought over what he had said.

“How do you manage to find them in each life?” she asked. “I don’t wish to be morbid, but presumably if you die, something happens to your bodies, and to your belongings.”

“Correct.”

“So unless you know where and when you’ll be born again,” she went on. “I imagine you’d have to make some sort of arrangement regarding the rings. A hiding place for them. Somewhere no one else would think to look. Perhaps - oh, I don't know, perhaps a sacred space of some sort.”

He was eyeing her with a look of pride, and it made her want to blush.

“You’re quite right,” he agreed. “Doc always decides on a place to store the rings. As he’s born with his memories, he remembers where we put them, and can go and retrieve them.”

“And is he always right?” she asked. “Does he always remember?”

Ogilvy pulled a face.

“There have been a few occasions where you or I haven’t had time to hide our own rings in the agreed spot before - well, before the end,” he acknowledged. “In those times, he’s had to rely on his Sight to guide him.”

“What if someone else were to find them first?”

“I’ve thought about that myself,” he admitted. “I have to confess that in the past I’ve worried that with the rate of development in this country, the hiding place might be discovered. It would be a poor show if the rings were placed in some museum or other.”

Belle grinned at that, wriggling a little against his side as she got more comfortable.

“He would have to become some sort of professor of antiquities rather than history in general,” she suggested. “Curator of the museum with access to the collection.”

He laughed.

“The alternative would be an audacious burglary, I suppose,” he said, and Belle giggled.

“Do you have any idea where my stone is?” she asked, and he sighed.

“I haven’t seen it since the fourteenth century,” he said simply. “Except in that painting of Elizabeth Willoughby.”

“The necklace,” she whispered. “That was the stone, wasn’t it? Is - is that why Elizabeth remembered? She knew there was something strange about the stone even before she got her memories back, I think.”

“I don’t think it was the stone,” he said. “At least not on its own. We had to use the stones together in the past to wake each other, but the Seer told me that she woke you - woke Elizabeth, I mean. She gave Elizabeth her memories, but I’m not clear on how that was done.”

“No. Nor I.” She thought for a moment. “There was nothing in the journal to explain it.”

"A pity."

There was a moment of silence. His gaze was far away, and she wondered what he was thinking about.

"Would you like to read the journal?" she asked.

Ogilvy seemed to hesitate, lips parted, eyes staring up at the canopy. He turned his head towards her, and that sorrowful look was back in his eyes again, the memory of ancient heartache.

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "Part of me wants to have that connection, to know what you went through without me, and another part of me knows how painful the reading of it will be."

"I think I understand," she said slowly, and his eyes seemed to search her face.

"Would you like me to read it?" he asked gently, and she bit her lip.

"I think so," she said. "But - perhaps when I get my memories back. If I do, I mean."

“Then we must find the way,” he said. “The Seer said she could return your memories to you, as she did before, but that there would be a price.”

“What sort of price?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know,” he said gravely. “Nor did she. She told me that waking you in this life would affect us in the next, but as to how...” He lifted a hand to indicate his ignorance.

“That could be any number of things."

“Indeed.”

“And she was unable to even hint at what the price may be?”

“Not at this time,” he said. “She said she would think on it. She will come to us when the time is right. We must hope she has a clearer idea of the price at that time, so that we - so that you - can make an informed decision.”

“And she can return my memories?” asked Belle. “All of them?”

“All of them,” he confirmed. “If you want that, of course.”

Belle was silent for a moment, thinking. Memories of other lives, stretching back thousands of years. How wonderful that must be. And how painful. There must be grief and loss from all those lives. How do they bear it? How will I?

“You don’t have to,” he added. “It’s your choice.”

She pursed her lips.

“But - don’t you want me to remember?” she asked. “Everything, I mean. Everything we did together, the lives we shared...”

Ogilvy smiled faintly. There was an air of sadness about him, a sense of despondency.

“What I want is immaterial,” he said. “There is pain as well as pleasure in the memories. I won’t force them on you. It’s your choice, just as it always has been.”

There was a look in his eyes she couldn’t fully interpret, but she could sense heartbreak and loss, and she wanted to shudder. Whatever he is thinking of, it can’t be pleasant.

“I shall consider it,” she said. “It seems moot at present, given that we don’t know how.”

“True enough,” he agreed. “And there is time for you to think it over. It may be months or even years before the Seer comes to us.”

He nodded, and there was silence for a moment. Belle shifted against his side a little, thinking over what he had told her. One of the candle flames was guttering, sending out pulses of light and making shadows dance and flicker on the walls, and she watched the light shift on his features, his eyes dark pits.

“The Seer,” she said slowly. “Who is she?”

Ogilvy chuckled, running a hand through his hair.

“I wish I knew,” he said dryly. “Back in the days before we were first joined, there were whispers amongst the tribe that she was one of the fair folk. She certainly looks no different today than she did back then, so perhaps she is something other than human. One who walks between the worlds. Perhaps not. Perhaps she’s like us. Returning in every life, the same spirit in the same form, over and over.”

“And she has - magic?”

“Yes,” he said. “She has magic. And the Sight. The ability to see what will be. Just as Doc does. Though perhaps with a somewhat wider and more impersonal perspective.”

“I - I’m not sure I understand.”

“Doc has visions of the future concerning us, those to whom we’re close, and the dark forces we fight,” he explained. “The Seer’s gaze is cast a little wider. Across the earth as a whole. She saw that we would be needed to fight the darkness for the good of all.”

“How did she know it would be us specifically?” she asked.

“She didn’t,” he said simply. “Or at least, if she did, she didn’t let on. The only one she chose was Doc. It was part of the ritual. The rest of the tribe chose me, and I chose you.”

“And what was my choice?” She shifted again, body sliding against his, and he smiled.

“You chose to be bound to me,” he said. “That was part of the ritual too. You had to give yourself to me of your own free will.”

“Well, thank goodness for that, at least,” she remarked.

“Indeed.”

There was silence for a moment. His fingers were gently stroking the curve of her waist. Her mind was reeling, a thousand questions bubbling up from within.

“Why did you choose me?” she asked, and he sighed.

“The Seer of my own tribe told me I had to leave,” he said. “Told me that the future depended on it. She told me I was destined to be one of the three, with the old man and the maiden. I was to look for a girl, and that I would know her when I saw her. And so I wandered, until I found your tribe. Until I saw you.”

“And did you know?” she asked, and he smiled.

“Yes,” he whispered. “The first time I laid eyes on you, I knew. I just had to wait for you to choose me.”

“Did you ever think perhaps I wouldn’t?” she asked. Ogilvy chuckled.

“I think you found me insufferably arrogant at times, so yes, there was always a seed of doubt there,” he said.

“That doesn’t sound like you,” she observed, and he sighed.

“I lost a great deal of my sense of worth in the lives without you,” he said. “And some of my rage. I used to snarl and bite at the world when I wasn’t simply cursing the gods for parting us. Mostly I’m just tired now.”

Belle chewed her lip, wanting to kiss some of the self-assurance back into him.

“And - and before that?” she asked. “Back when we first met? Did you really worry that I wouldn’t choose you?”

The smile was back on his face, this time somewhat rueful.

“I wasn’t lying about the arrogance,” he said. “But it was more a question of whether you would choose another before the time came. As the beautiful chief’s daughter you could have had your pick.”

“The chief’s daughter, indeed.” She swatted his chest playfully. “Upstart!”

He burst out laughing.

“Yes, I was certainly that,” he agreed. “But I spent years fretting that perhaps I was wrong, and that at any moment you would choose one of the handsome hunters that were sniffing around your father’s fire. It was a relief when you agreed, and I found that the Seer had spoken truly.”

“Foresight sounds like a dreadful burden,” she observed, and he laughed again.

“Oh, indeed. And it’s far from infallible,” he said. “Having the visions doesn’t always let Doc interpret them properly, for example. Sometimes he just knows what’s coming. Sometimes it’s all interpreting signs and portents and digging through old books to work it out.”

“Sounds equally frustrating and fascinating.”

“I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“I don’t doubt it for a moment,” she said, pushing up a little. “All these things I thought were myths and children’s tales. Magic and portents and ancient power. So many new things to learn. And here I thought I’d arrived on your doorstep to be a governess!”

He was watching her with a tiny, amused smile and a soft look in his eyes.

“Marry me,” he whispered, and she pursed her lips, trying not to smile.

“Well, I suppose I really ought to,” she observed. “Certainly if we want to do that again. Which I very much do.”

She giggled, and he grinned.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes,” she said decidedly. “I shall marry you. Oh, but let’s make it a small wedding. And almost scandalously quick. I rather like sharing a bed with you and I have no desire to wait weeks to do it again.”

He laughed.

“Yes, I’d prefer it if Mrs Wolfe didn’t walk out in protest,” he remarked. “She finds some of the aspects of my lifestyle unsettling enough, I daresay. I think carnal relations whilst unmarried may just tip her over the edge.”

Belle giggled, snuggling against his side.

“Soon, then,” she said. “How soon do you think we could do it?”

“I’d need to make some enquiries, but I believe the shortest time would be seven days.” His fingers were caressing the skin of her waist again, gently stroking. “I think I have to get a licence. Otherwise it’s three weeks.”

“So, at least a week from now.” She chewed her lip thoughtfully. “In that case, we really ought to make the most of tonight, don’t you think?”

He smiled, turning on his side, and his hand gently cupped her cheek as he kissed her. She opened her mouth with a contented noise, her hand sliding around his waist and up his back, her body shifting closer until she was pressed against him. His tongue gently stroked hers and she moaned a little, enjoying the heat of his body, the squash of flesh as they pressed together and his fingers pushing through her hair.

He pulled his mouth from hers, kissing down her neck and sending shivers through her, and she let her head roll back against the pillows, body arching upwards as he moved lower. The feel of his mouth on her nipple made her let out a tiny cry, fingers running up over his shoulders to tangle in his hair. The ends were damp where they had lain against the nape of his neck, his skin hot to the touch, and she closed her eyes, losing herself in the soft pull of his lips.

His hand slid between her legs, gently stroking, and she gasped as he touched sensitive skin, fingers sliding through flesh already slippery with their fluids. One finger gently pushed inside her, and Belle moaned, eyes closed, skin tingling. She could feel the soft, wet sweep of his tongue on her nipple, the scrape of his stubble against her breast, the hard length of the finger inside her and the friction of his hand against the sensitive bud at the top of her cleft. It was making something deep within her belly coil and tighten, her limbs stiffening. He let the nipple slip from his mouth, kissing upwards, nose nuzzling at her neck before his tongue swept up its length to her ear. The sensation made her shiver, and she moaned again, pushing against his hand, eager for the pleasure he could give her.

“Please, my love!” she whispered. “I need you!”

She felt him smile against her neck, and the finger gently slipped out of her, his hand reaching down between them. He shifted, his weight pressing down on her, and she felt the hardness of him push up against her. She licked her lips, her breathing rapid, heart thudding in her chest, and her hands slipped to his shoulders, feeling the firm heat of his skin. He met her eyes, gaze locked onto hers as he slowly sank into her, and Belle let out a tiny cry, lifting her hips to meet him, knees sliding up to let him push deeper. Her hands lifted, stroking over his cheeks and pushing into his hair, soft and damp against her fingers. His hands rose up to cup her cheeks, fingers gently stroking strands of hair back from her face, and he bent to kiss her as he began to move, his lips soft and wet against hers.

Belle closed her eyes, lips parted, listening to her own shallow breathing, in time with his, and the low creak of the bed beneath her. She inhaled the scent of him, a faint hint of the cologne he had been wearing and his own musk, the slightly acrid scent from the fire and the warm wax from the burning candles. She could feel the hard length of him inside her, the low groan that rumbled through him, and the heat and wetness where their bodies joined. Pleasure was rising within her, a wave of pressure that set her tingling, quick and hot, as though sparks were dancing across her skin. She clung to him, gripping his shoulders, her legs wrapping around him as their pace quickened and her body grew taut. A moan started deep within her chest, growing in pitch until she broke with a cry, pushing up against him, feeling him pulse inside her as he let out a low groan of pleasure, his arms sliding around her and hugging her tight.

She clung to him as the wave of bliss washed over her, soaking into her skin and leaving her drained. Falling back against the pillows, she tried to gulp in air, her chest heaving, and he slowed his movements, pushing up on his elbows to gaze down at her with a tiny, wicked little grin.

“Are you well?” he asked, and Belle tried to catch her breath, nodding.

“Oh, we are most certainly getting married!” she gasped, and he burst out laughing, kissing her again as he rolled onto his side and pulled her close.

-

Ogilvy had always been a light sleeper, when he could sleep at all, and staying in other people’s houses only made his insomnia worse. He had nonetheless managed the best night’s sleep he had had in what felt like years, and he woke reluctantly, dragged from his slumber by a faint clanking. After a moment of confusion he recognised it as the sound of fire irons being carried into the room. There was the sound of a sharp intake of breath, and Ogilvy raised his head, meeting the eyes of a young scullery maid with very curly red hair and rapidly flushing cheeks. She squeaked and promptly turned her back, bending to lay the fire, and he settled back down with a grin. No doubt she had been told to simply ignore anything improper she might see, and to go about her chores unless the guests said otherwise. She was probably new. He suspected Lady Ella’s seasoned servants had seen far worse in their time.

Belle was nestled in his arms, her back to his chest, and the bed was far too warm and comfortable to want to move. He lay dozing as the maid finished the fire, listening to the crackle and snap of the wood kindling. The door closed quietly as she left, and he smiled, leaning in to press his lips to Belle’s shoulder. She inhaled deeply, stretching her legs, and he kissed along her shoulder and up her neck, hearing a low hum of contentment.

“Good morning,” he murmured.

“Good morning to you,” she said sleepily. “What time is it?”

“Early,” he said. “I thought perhaps you might want to go back to your room before the rest of the house wakes up.”

“Mm.” Belle turned onto her back, running her hands over her face. “Good idea. I wouldn’t want the children to wonder where I am.”

She turned to face him, looking beautifully dishevelled, her eyes heavy and her cheeks pink. He leaned in to kiss her, an arm sliding around her waist and pulling her close against him, and she moaned in pleasure, opening her mouth as he pushed her onto her back. The kiss deepened, and he felt himself start to swell once more as his hand cupped her breast. Belle pulled her mouth from his.

“I really should go back to my room,” she said breathlessly. “But if you continue to do that I shall be forced to stay here for the remainder of the morning.”

Ogilvy chuckled, kissing her neck once more before pushing up on his elbows.

“I believe we have a train to catch,” he said. “More’s the pity. I fear we’ll have to be more circumspect at home.”

“A seven day wait once we obtain a marriage licence, you said?” she remarked, pursing her lips. “I must say that Parliament really has no consideration for a woman’s needs.”

“When has it ever?” he quipped.

She made a noise of agreement, kissing him once more before shuffling out from beneath him and throwing back the covers. He rolled onto his back, enjoying the sight of her as she hurried around the room, scooping up her nightdress and shawl and pulling them on.

“The servants came in to light the fire,” she observed. “Well. I suppose we were never going to be able to keep it a secret, were we?”

“You said they’re discreet.”

“Oh, indeed they are,” she said, running fingers through her hair in a futile attempt to tame it. “But that doesn’t mean Lady Ella won’t hear everything from them.”

Ogilvy grunted in amusement. He would have expected no less.

“Let’s try and get back to London before she starts planning the wedding herself,” he remarked, and she giggled, tugging the shawl around her shoulders.

“I should go,” she said, and put her head to the side. “I shall see you at breakfast. I for one have an excellent appetite this morning.”

A blush and a smirk, and she was gone, hurrying out of the door and closing it behind her. Ogilvy lay back against the pillows with a contented sigh, hands behind his head. Life was very nearly perfect.

[inkslingersworld]

Zusammen: Part VII

Link to the previous parts here.

Adrien awoke the following morning with a renewed sense of purpose. Even though he’d found it odd that his father was so willing to allow him to pursue the investigation (not to mention his eagerness for Adrien to spend a few hours with Kagami last night), Adrien was ultimately invigorated by Gabriel’s support. Despite the puzzlement over his father’s behavior lingering in the back of his mind, Adrien had informed Kagami that they could start retracing Emilie’s steps the next day. And now the next day was here.

But not everybody was in as good a mood as Adrien was.

Upon entering the dining room, Adrien was shocked at the sight of his father - he didn’t think he’d ever seen Gabriel this disheveled. The fashion designer’s hair was unkempt and worn, his glasses appeared to be crooked, and his face was unwashed, darkened slightly with five o’clock shadow. It seemed as though he’d simply thrown on his clothes, with his jacket nowhere to be seen, his vest unbuttoned and looking at risk of falling off, and his tie unmade and hanging pathetically around his neck. The smell of cologne that Gabriel normally gave off was now replaced by the underlying scent of alcohol, and he was eating a bowl of cereal. To top it all off, his facial expression was one so morose that it made Adrien feel queasy. 

“Um... Father?” he asked uncertainly. “Are you okay?”

Gabriel, who apparently hadn’t noticed Adrien walk in, screwed his eyes tight at the sound of his son’s voice, almost like it were very loud and difficult to listen to. He didn’t open them again for at least ten seconds, after which he forced a painful-looking smile.

“I’m fine, Adrien,” Gabriel croaked. “Just fine.”

Adrien took in his father’s appearance again and felt like pointing out that Gabriel was anything but fine, except he decided not to.

“Uh... listen, Father, I’m gonna be going out to breakfast with Kagami,” said Adrien uncomfortably, as Gabriel resumed spooning cereal into his mouth. “I just think that doing so will enable us to start retracing Mother’s steps more quickly.”

“Fine by me,” replied Gabriel dismissively. “Tell Miss Tsurugi I said bonjour.”

He let out a rather high-pitched chuckle that made him sound sad rather than amused and kept eating, oblivious to Adrien’s increasing astonishment and concern.

“Are you all right by yourself?” asked Adrien apprehensively. “Do you want Nathalie to eat with you?”

Without warning, Gabriel’s face contorted into one of immense pain and he made a strange gulping noise, followed by a sorrowful whimper. Adrien grew even more confused by this, but it slowly dawned on him what his father might be doing.

Was he... trying not to cry?

Adrien never found out whether his assumption was correct, for Gabriel ceased doing whatever he’d been doing almost immediately. He stared at his son with fearful eyes before blurting out, “She’s on temporary leave!”

“Temporary leave?” repeated Adrien questioningly. “I don’t understand.”

“She - she was feeling overworked!” elaborated Gabriel, obviously struggling with the words. “So I gave her a sabbatical!”

“Why didn’t you tell me last night?” Adrien asked.

“I, uh, fell asleep before you got home!” Gabriel exclaimed rapidly.

“Oh,” said Adrien. “I... guess that makes sense.”

“Of course it does! You can go now! Bye!” said Gabriel hurriedly, making little “go on” motions with his hands. 

“Um... bye.” muttered Adrien, more bewildered than ever. His father was never this excited to have him leave.

A small part of Adrien wanted to stay in the house for the sole purpose of discovering what was wrong with Gabriel, but he decided that he had more pressing matters to attend to, and left the mansion without looking back

===========

Due to their correspondence the previous night, Adrien knew to look for Kagami at the cafe they’d visited two evenings ago. He found her in one of the outdoor seating chairs, sipping an iced tea with a poetry book in her hand.

“Hi!” he called to her.

Kagami looked up and smiled. “Hey.”

Adrien tried not to smile too widely at the sight of her, but he couldn’t help it; she dazzled him.

“What’re you reading?” he asked inquisitively, kissing her on the cheek and taking the seat opposite from her.

“The Colossus and Other Poems,” she answered automatically, with a hint of a sigh. “Sylvia Plath. It’s decent.”

“Have you eaten?”

“I was waiting until you arrived.”

“You didn’t need to do that,” said Adrien.

“I know I didn’t need to,” Kagami responded, smiling again. “I wanted to. I wanted to eat together.”

Ping.

“That was very sweet of you,” Adrien said bashfully.

“I’m glad you think so,” said Kagami, sounding a touch embarrassed. “In all honesty, though, I’m starving, so let’s order.”

Adrien hadn’t had breakfast with Kagami before - heck, he hadn’t had breakfast with anyone before, apart from Gabriel and occasionally Nathalie. He found that eating with his girlfriend was an improvement over eating with his father in many respects - he and Kagami could actually hold a beneficial conversation, enjoy each other’s company, and laugh together. Although Kagami hadn’t engaged in laughter at all during the first few months that Adrien had known her, she began to once their friendship grew into something more. It was Adrien that made her laugh most of the time, which surprised him, never thinking before that he was a particularly funny person. But whatever he did to make Kagami laugh was worth it to him - Kagami possessed an enthrallingly beautiful laugh, and whenever Adrien heard it, it was like magic flooded his whole world.

“So, where should we start retracing your mother’s steps?” asked Kagami, swallowing a bite of English muffin.

Adrien took a gulp of coffee before retrieving a small journal from his pants pocket. He laid it on the table for Kagami to see.

“My mother’s personal organizer,” he explained. “Father let me borrow it for the investigation.”

“Wow!” said Kagami appreciatively. “You sure are receiving an unprecedented amount of leeway from your father.”

“Yeah,” Adrien agreed, furrowing his brow. “I’m kind of worried about my father. He’s been acting strangely lately. First with lying to me about Mother’s possible whereabouts, then his sudden encouragement over my investigation - not to mention the awful state he was in earlier this morning. And now Nathalie’s just gone on an impromptu vacation?”

He gave a mixture between a groan and a sigh. “Hopefully finding out some information about Mother will clear things up a bit.”

“Don’t worry, Adrien,” Kagami said soothingly, holding his hand in hers. “I’m sure that everything’ll get better soon. Isn’t that what you told me when I was down with that severe cold?”

Adrien laughed a little. “Yeah, something along those lines.”

They both looked down at the aftermath of their meal on the table.

“Ready to go?” asked Adrien. “I’ve already paid the bill.”

“Aw, Adrien, you didn’t need to do that,” said Kagami playfully.

“I know I didn’t need to. I wanted to.”

They both laughed. They pushed in their chairs, stacked the plates so they were neat, and hadn’t walked even a block from the cafe when Kagami’s phone rang. She answered it promptly.

“Hello?”

A brief pause.

“Oh! Hi, Inspector Beaumont!” Kagami said excitedly. “Have you found any clues regarding the Emilie Agreste case?”

A longer pause. Kagami looked bewildered.

“You want us to meet you where?”

Another pause.

“Well, okay,” said Kagami, sounding downright mystified. “We’ll see you there.”

She hung up.

“That was Inspector Beaumont?” asked Adrien.

“Yeah,” said Kagami. “He wants to speak with us at La Sante Prison.”

[duxhess-kryzewan]

Obi-wan saving Satine from a suitor, and then lots of fluff and cuddling.

- This Love - 

During his time on the run with Qui-Gon and Satine he had become somewhat of an expert on the history of Mandalorian culture and the various clans that make up its people. Satine of course had hailed from Clan Kryze. Many long days and nights were spent discussing the history of her people and it's various leaders throughout its time as an established civilization. It had helped them pass the time. 

That said, he only remembered so much from that ongoing history lesson. Too many things had been slowly compiling themselves in his brain and he had long since forgotten some of the specifics when it came to the differing clans. Satine would surely chastise him if he were ever to let her know that.

He does know however that she tries to maintain a steady line of communication with all the major houses that the clans compiled in order to keep peace between them. 

One of her guards had informed him that she was in the middle of a House meeting when he landed on Mandalore. He had finished a simple extraction mission on one of the other outer rim planets earlier than expected and had decided to sneak away and visit her while he had the time. What little he ever had to spare was precious and all the better when he was able to see her. 

Of course he had told her guards that it wasn't necessary to disturb her meeting to inform her of his arrival; force knows that he would never hear the end of it if he were to interrupt her while she was conducting her duties as Duchess. She may be just as thrilled to see him as he was her, but they both had a mutual understanding that their duties would always come first.

"It's fine," He insisted, "I'm sure the Duchess would be less than pleased should her meeting intruded upon. I'll fair out just fine, I tend to know my way around here."

"As you wish, Master Kenobi." The guardsman had said before retreating down the hallway. It was true, he had spent enough time over the past year or so in Sundari Palace that he knew his way around without a guide. Thankfully he was able to operate under the guise of being a liaison for the Republic instead of simply coming for personal reasons, which was the case more often than not. 

He had been roaming the halls of the palace close to her throne room while he waited. The pieces of their culture was something one could easily get lost in, and the palace had no shortage of historical artifacts and antiquities to delve into. All the better for him; her meeting had a tendency to drag and there was only so long he could hover in one place waiting for her. 

Her voice always pulled him out of whatever trance he was in, and today was no different. Something in his chest fluttered every time her voice graced his ears. 

He took his time though to head down the hallway; it was obvious she was still speaking with one of the House members even as they finished the meeting. It was a voice he hadn't recognized; a new representative perhaps. 

He stops dead in his tracks though when he finally makes out what the voice was saying.

"-And the other clan leaders as well as the house leaders think it best you are appointed someone."

"A suitor?"

The man cleared his throat, "Yes, they see it fit. The people are satisfied for now with your ruling however the clans worry that you will start to loose public support without a male figure at your side."

There no mistaking the annoyance in her voice despite how well she had tried to hide it.

"I find it highly inappropriate that a matter was discussed without consulting my council first, let alone something so personal and belittling as appointing me a consort." 

Something about her being appointed a suitor stirred something both primal and worrisome inside of him. It was but another series of events that had him questioning his decision not to stay with her all those years ago. He certainly wouldn't have to worry about her being courted by someone else, let alone have them be a proponent for marriage. 

He does his best to squash those feelings as they come though, jealously was very unbecoming of a Jedi. And in truth he really had no claim on her. As loyal as they were to one another in regards to whatever their relationship was, deep down he understood that there was always the possibility she would move on without him. And why shouldn't she? He could never give her everything he deserved. He wanted her to be happy no matter how much it was harm him. 

That said though, he knows just how much she would loathe being forced into something. 

"It's simply a matter of maintaining an effective leadership and not a personal slight against you, your grace. It's why I was slotted to attend the meeting. My influence among House Kast has been vital in the past years and has permeated throughout a number of clans and would be nothing but beneficial to you." The man says, the assurance to his tone only serving to get under Obi-Wans skin even more. 

He can sense the change of her emotions through her force signature; the sharp shift from displeased to both swelling anger and unmistakable panic.

Whoever it was that was speaking to her head only been in that meeting for one reason; to propose himself as a probable suitor to the Duchess. Part of him wanted to scoff at the notion that Satine was any less than capable of ruling Mandalore. She was a strong leader in her own right and commanded respect; the idea that she would ever need a male figure at her side to continue to win over her people was downright insulting to her capabilities. 

It took him only a second for him to decide what to do.

“They sent you to propose-” 

“Duchess.” 

He had rounded the corner just as she had begun to speak, catching both her and the house member off guard. Normally he wouldn’t dare interrupt her. She was more than capable of handling herself, but he couldn’t bare to hear anymore of the conversation. It was selfish on his part, he knew, but she would have to forgive him.

“Master Kenobi.” She says, not even bothering to hide her surprise at his sudden appearance.

“Pardon me,” He says, “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

The man was a bit younger than he had imagined; his dark eyes matching the inky color of his hair. Certainly not what he ever would have pictured. The contrast between him and Satine’s bright eyes and golden hair was striking and he couldn’t ever imagine her with someone so tenebrous.

“Of course not.” She answers quickly, “We were just finished.”

The man - whose name he has no interest in learning - looks both dejected and a touch angry. 

“Actually Duchess,” He begins, “I was hoping we’d be able to continue our conversation-”

Satine tears her eyes away from Obi-Wan and looks back to him, “Our conversation was through the moment you spoke of my ability to rule on my own. If your house has issue with it than you most certainly can address it with my council. Now if you don’t mind, I have other matters to attend too. I’m sure the guards can see you out.”

Without sparing another glance at the man she starts heading down the hallway in his direction, all but beckoning him to follow. Of course he maintains an appropriate distance from her; he couldn’t imagine the scandal it would cause if someone got wind of his occasional visits being anything more than business driven. 

He doesn’t bother asking where they’re headed; he knows the way to her chambers like the back of his hand these days. Besides, the anger from the conversation was radiating off of her so strongly that he wouldn’t have even needed the force to sense it. The tension was more than palpable.

Her chambers are quiet; the guards that would normally wander about the halls no where in sight and the moment that the doors of her private quarters slide shut behind them she grabs him briskly by the shoulders and crashes her lips to his.

Its raw and primal and just a little bit desperate, not at all what he’s used to from her but he wastes no time in cupping her face between his hands and kissing her back with just as much fire. He knows whats happening, that she’s trying to prove a point that there wasn’t anyone she would touch so scandalously but him.

“I would never even consider a consort of any kind.” She says firmly when she breaks the kiss, “Never. I am capable of leading alone and there is nobody in the galaxy I would want next to me.”

He understands the unspoken words. Nobody in the galaxy other than him. She didn’t need to say it. He knew.

He kisses her this time. He wants her to know that he understands, that perhaps they would never be able to fully belong to one another in front of anyone else, but that they have willingly given each other a piece of themselves. 

“You’re brilliant,” He assures her, “You’re strong and wise and one of the most formidable leaders I’ve ever known. They are foolish to ever doubt your ability to lead on your own.”

He can feel her force signature soften under his words and finally she manages to smile the slightest bit at him.

“Thank you, Obi-Wan.” She says lightly, before her soft smile morphs itself into a wicked grin, “It’s been too long since you’ve come to see me.”

He doesn’t even protest when she grabs his hands and drags him towards her bedroom. 

---- 

Later, hours into the night, they lay awake in her bed, his hand trailing up and down the length of her spine while she lay against his bare chest. It was the most at peace he had felt in months.

She lifts her head up and rests her chin against the center of his chest, blue eyes shining with something he doesn’t quite recognize. Something made of both happiness and sadness, perhaps?

“I’ve tried, you know.” She begins.

He merely raises an eyebrow in response. 

“To move on,” She clarifies, “I thought perhaps that one day I’d be able to find someone to else. Someone to marry and rule Mandalore by my side.”

She drops her head on its side and nuzzles it against him, her hand finding his free one and gripping it tightly, “But I could never. There is no one else, Obi-Wan, and I don’t want you to ever doubt that.”

He loves her, more than he could even begin to explain. He would never be able to be with her in all the ways she so desperately deserves, but something inside of him would break should she ever find someone new.

“There’s never been another soul in the galaxy I’ve felt about in the same way I feel about you, Satine.” He tells her gently, “There won’t ever be anyone else for me either. You’re it, and I am so dreadfully sorry I can’t be by your side in all the ways you deserve.”

She raises her head up once more to look him in the eyes, “I love you as you are, protector of the galaxy and all. And while I want you here forever, I know we made our choices for the right reasons.”

He smiles at her, “And I love you, Satine.”

It’s the first time he’s ever been able to say the words aloud. She’s always known, always understood his way of life made it difficult to say it, but here and now he wants to make sure she never has to wonder how he feels. 

Her smile lights up something inside of him and he vows then and there that once the war was over, he would be by her side. 

Always. 

[yandere-sins]

Intoxicated

Lovely commission for @lesbiansportsanime! Thank you so much for commissioning me, it was awesome working with you ♥

Characters: Yandere!Dabi x Ryusaki Yuuma (Toyhouse here, please check out this awesome OC!) Warnings: Yandere, Drugging, Kidnapping, Alcohol

»»———————— ♡ ————————««    

The vibrations of the electric bass embraced him the second he stepped through the door. It was too loud to hear the metal fall back into its lock, but the moment it did, Dabi felt as if he was caught in a vacuum, the verberation of the sound running through bones and muscles, as well as the staples holding his skin together. To him, loud music always was like an annoying visit at the doctor's; a tearing and mauling at his whole being, but he appreciated the effect of drowning out his thoughts with it just like he appreciated sedation before getting operated on. 

With his eyes focused forward, he navigated the dark hallway towards the center of the club where the action was happening. Dabi didn't want to get caught in people's stares, having no business with the curious onlookers. He had a mirror at home. He knew how he looked, but he wasn't there to ruin anyone's day, and it wasn't Halloween either, so he didn't bother convincing anyone that he was as bad as he seemed. Especially not with there being not one innocent soul visiting the night club, so it wasn't like he was misplaced in there. Neon lights were the only thing illuminating the place occasionally, spotlights projecting them onto the ground in circles and sways, much like the moving bodies on the dancefloor. 

Green, Blue, Purple. Those colors were all he could see, aside from the occasional white shirt. All around him, people were trying to forget about the shitty week that laid behind them, but Dabi couldn't be bothered to even recognize their faces in the dark mass. Everyone here only came for a few reasons: Drink and dance their night away with what the club had to offer. Perhaps have an intimate encounter that wouldn't be as meaningful anymore in the morning as they painted it out to be with their intoxicated minds.

However, at least for Dabi, there really was an actual meaning to his visit.

He touched his coat, falling over his chest right above his heart, and felt the stiff resistance waiting for him there in the form of a box sitting in the inside pocket. Luckily, his clothes weren't a tight fit, or someone may have already noticed the small bulge and tried to ask about what he could offer. Getting high quickly and forget their worries was all those people cared about. They weren't aware that Dabi wasn't selling any kind of drugs to them that would take them up to the heavens, but rather, down below. 

Unbothered by the bodies bumping into him, letting out annoying cheers and sloppy singing, he pushed through the dancers, making his way towards the polished counter of the bar. One glance at him was enough to make people back away, no matter how upset they were that Dabi interrupted their special dance moves. Thus he was quickly able to reach his goal without interruptions. Still, not without him thinking about how much nicer it was, that he didn't have to walk through so many annoyances every time he came to visit, though. 

Patrons leaning against the bar moved away with disgusted looks, making space for the villain who gladly took the free room to assert himself at the counter. It wasn't like Dabi was forcing anyone away. It also wasn't his business that he was losing by scaring away the chatty drinkers, so their reactions merely put a smile on his face, making even the most stubborn stud scramble away in fear. It might have been the most terrifying expression they had ever seen, despite Dabi being in a relatively good mood. 

He was quickly recognized by one of the bartenders - a newbie he assumed, with a neckline too deep for someone who served drinks out of passion - who gave him a hesitant, frightened look before approaching. Dabi merely shook his head as she asked what he wanted, and he could watch her shoulders fall in relief that she'd not have to serve him. Instead, he pointed at her co-worker, who was tending to the customers on the other end of the bar. 

"Yuuma?" she asked. Her voice was meek and mellow, nothing you'd expect in such a loud environment. Perhaps it was her hook to appear cutesy and gain more tips, but it didn't impress Dabi at all. Thankfully she leaned close enough, having her bosom squeeze onto the neatly polished countertops, so even he was able to hear her. "Be a doll and call him," Dabi requested, still smiling as if he had no care in the world, adding a briefly considered, "--and a drink. Something rough."

Hesitant at first, she leaned back before raising her finger as to say, "One moment, please," and took off like a race car. Speed was apparently her skill, Dabi figured, after all that she lacked in customer service. However, what a good girl she was, running right up to her superior, pulling him away from taking an order as if lives depended on it. Dabi watched her lips move, and Yuuma's brows wrinkle as he probably tried to make out what she was saying through the noise, glancing up only as she pointed into the villain's direction. With a playful wave, Dabi made sure the young bartender's eyes would find him despite the neon lights moving left and right, and it was a delight to see Yuuma's eyes widen as he finally spotted his customer.

Ushering her to take over the orders he was doing, Yuuma marched - menacingly so, how Dabi experienced it - into his direction, not even looking as he pulled one of the bottles out of the lit open cabinets at the back of the bar, taking it with him. Snatching a glass from under the counter, it certainly wasn't careful how Yuuma placed it in front of him, but the loud bang fit in perfectly with the music. Whatever he poured for Dabi, he did so quickly, to the point it slopped out of the glass again, making Dabi grin a little more.

"You? In one piece?" was the first thing Yuuma threw at him as he leaned in for a talk. 

"I always knew you liked me better when I bleed," Dabi chuckled back, taking the glass from the bartender. The pungent smell of alcohol stung in his nose, but the drink he was handed was as good as anything on his tongue. It tasted all the more delicious since Yuuma served it to him. 

Yuuma scrunched up his nose at the statement, the nights spent patching up Dabi having left a sour taste on his memories. Not like it was the villain's fault per se, but Yuuma probably saw more disgusting insights on Dabi's body than Dabi was aware of. Regaining his composure, Yuuma only shook his head lightly as Dabi took another sip of his drink, their conversation fading out with the electro beats booming all around them.

Still, Dabi caught the nervous glance Yuuma threw to the sides, not bothering with counting how many patrons replied with their uncertainty in return. "It's weird you'd come at this time. You usually- well, you never come this early. There isn't a shipment today either, is there?"

The neon lights shining into Yuuma's green eyes reflected a visible discomfort, even though Dabi could barely understand why. It wasn't like he was the only bad guy in this whole club, yet, Yuuma seemed to get cautious now that he was around. However, being stared at by a lovely face like Yuuma's, Dabi wasn't even complaining over the wrinkled forehead despite knowing he was in for a scolding. 

"Can't I just come to enjoy some... Well..." Dabi cheered the glass in his hand into Yuuma's direction, shoulders shrugging. Thinking of adding, "... and seeing you?" to his words, Dabi bit back the flirt, even though he couldn't keep the corners of his mouth from jerking upwards.

"No… Yes- I mean--" Watching as Yuuma fidgeted for words before sighing, pressing his fingers into his forehead as if he was counteracting a headache, Dabi couldn't help but feel the bubbling emotions in his stomach. Looking at Yuuma was to Dabi what looking at puppies was to some people. He could put on the most serious, I-am-the-doctor-and-you-are-the-patient face, and Dabi still found joy in the many emotions showing that Yuuma wasn't even aware of. 

"Not sure if you used a mirror lately, but your looks are downright scary, man," he reminded the villain, and Dabi could barely keep himself from beaming a smile in his direction. Of course he knew the true intentions behind Yuuma's words. Still, Dabi neither was superficial nor very interested in other people's opinions, so he chose a reply that would be more beneficial to both of them.

"Thanks, I thought I looked really handsome today too. That makes two of us then~"

Driving his free hand through his hair and brushing it back for a better look at him, Dabi let the tease sit in with Yuuma first, the bartender's brows raising in confusion before his expression sunk in annoyance. If Dabi imagined it strongly enough, he believed he saw a slight flustered shine on Yuuma's cheeks, though it would be hard to prove with the insufficient lighting in the club. Had it been any other situation, Yuuma might have bit back with an appropriate reply, but with an arm raising nearby the two, his attention on Dabi was momentarily distracted, reminding him he couldn't stand around for too long and do nothing.

Dabi merely acknowledged the shifting focus of his favorite bartender by taking another sip from his glass, unhappy that their flirting was interrupted. Clinking the glass on the counter, it drew Yuuma's attention back, his face instantly becoming more serious while Dabi let him know quietly he wanted a refill, which Yuuma complied to reluctantly. 

"You can't stay here," Yuuma finally pressed out. It was the more polite way of saying 'Get the fuck out', but Dabi appreciated the sentiment he felt as Yuuma tried to treat him nicely. After all Dabi did for him and the money the villain spent on Yuuma's little side business, he still had the manners to not anger his customers no matter how pesky Dabi was. It was almost too much for Dabi's ashen heart to see how hard it was for Yuuma to juggle being respectful, the stress of bartending all night, and the annoyance over Dabi's presence. Usually, Yuuma was such a composed, snarky little medic with no bedside manner, and Dabi adored him for it. But this certainly was refreshing, and Dabi could barely wait to experience more new sights of his darling Yuuma.

"My presence bothering you much?" he asked teasingly, grabbing his glass and taking a step back from the counter. "Can't be helped then. I don't want you to lose your job just because you can't get away from me. You don't mind if I wait in the back, right? You're going to close up soon anyway, and I got to talk to you."

"H-Hey!" Yuuma yelled after Dabi, who turned around without waiting for an answer. Passing by the patrons lined up at the counter, he saw Yuuma trying to catch his attention from the corner of his eyes and chose to ignore him rather than confront. Dabi immensely enjoyed being able to witness his usually so stoic and often tired little medic all lively, and even a bit riled up, deciding in that very moment that he made the right decision to come in when the club was still booming. It was different and not as intimate as the patch-up dates they had before, but he liked it nonetheless.

Taking a surprised, sharp breath, Dabi had to balance out the alcohol swapping from one side to the other as his shirt suddenly got grabbed, turning him around. Yuuma's expression was almost furious. Absolutely adorable even. Dabi didn't know he could slip out of the bar that quickly, but it was a pleasant surprise to come face to face with Yuuma. 

"Don't do anything stupid," he hissed as he reached for Dabi's free hand, slapping the keys to the backdoors into it. "And don't touch anything."

"Gotcha," Dabi agreed, letting the keyring dangle from his finger. He had expected it to be a little bit more extravagant, but perhaps he had overestimated Yuuma's taste when it came to key accessories, only two keys and a small flask-like trinket dangling from it. "Touch everything and wreak havoc. I won't disappoint."

And with that, Dabi was gone, leaving behind a Yuuma who already regretted letting the villain enter his more or less private quarters.

The moment he stepped through the backdoor, the music volume toned down. Not enough to disappear, but at least to hear his own thoughts again. So far, so good, he told himself, marching down the small hallway. There weren't too many doors, just a walk-in fridge, the locker room for the employees, and the much-anticipated storage room Yuuma used for himself, next to the back exit at the end of the hallway. Dabi chose to wait where Yuuma would probably expect him to go anyway - his room.

Setting down his drink on top of the dresser to his right, he approached the make-shift bed first, plopping down onto the old, saggy mattress. He made it. He actually made it. Not like Dabi had an underlying suspicion that his plan would fail so early on, but gaining access to the back was still an achievement to him. Only once before had Yuuma allowed him entrance to this place, but now, Dabi had made his way back here. Laying his head to the side, he eyed the pillow, letting his fingers reach out to it. He pulled it towards him, held it in front of his chest, squishing the soft material inside. 

It was tempting him. It really was. 

Bringing it up to his face, Dabi muffled himself in the fabric, taking a deep breath. He imagined how Yuuma slept on this pillow every night, happy to smother his stress and worries in it for a few hours of sleep in return. Taking another deep inhale, he wanted to believe that the smell filling his nose and lungs was that of Yuuma, and not just this damp little room. At least, it was the closest he ever came to his little medic in terms of intimacy, so he wasn't very picky. 

Reluctantly, he put the pillow aside again, tossing it recklessly on top of the folded blanket. Not like he wanted to upset Yuuma by throwing around his objects, but at the same time, Dabi was one step ahead. It wasn't like Yuuma would need this pillow anymore, in a long, long time. Standing up again, Dabi came to a halt in front of a rather large dresser. Of course, he'd be good. He promised that. Dabi knew how much Yuuma was attached to all the vials and medicine he had, so at least the chemistry set on top of the dresser was something Dabi would refrain from touching.

Everything else, however, was fair game.

Pulling open the first drawer, Dabi expected the clothes arranged inside. It had a subtle order, but even though Yuuma tried, it was clear that he wasn't as careful when pulling out things, causing the clothes to be wrinkled and muddled. Browsing through the few shirts and hoodies Yuuma owned, Dabi pulled out one that caught his eyes, a black tank top with the font "dumbasses don't interact" in capital letters written on the front. Peculiar, but Dabi liked that. Cramming it into his coat pocket, he decided he'd ask Yuuma to wear that at a later point in time. Under… better conditions.

Below that drawer was another one containing various things from underwear and socks to some personal items. With delighted amusement, Dabi explored this drawer, very interested to see what kind of items the rather minimalistic Yuuma would hold on to, but of course, the luring of the underwear came first. Aside from mismatched socks, Dabi let out a chuckle as he felt lace beneath his fingertips, very happy to latch onto this feeling. Forth came black briefs, partly translucent from the lace, and Dabi was smitten with his find. Who'd known that his usually so casual Yuuma would own something so daring? 

That was definitely another keeper, he decided, pushing it down the other coat pocket. Dabi was about to give his attention to the items on the right side of the drawer next when his ears perked up. All of a sudden, the drumming beats inside the club shut off, and it got quiet. He couldn't have been in this room for long. Sure, he had taken his time with everything he did, but it had barely been a few minutes. Yet, without the beat of the music hammering in the back of his head, Dabi knew the club was closing down. It wouldn't be long now until Yuuma returned, especially not when he knew Dabi was here waiting for him.

Making haste, Dabi finally pulled out the small box he had hid on the inside of the coat. The silver box resembled the ones Yuuma used to sell his drugs, but the pills inside were different from those that enhanced quirks. Fishing for his glass, Dabi took a big swig, making it look like he had been drinking calmly while he waited. Still, he left enough to share it with his hardworking friend. 

Giving the burning alcohol a second to stop hurting his tastebuds, Dabi had to pinch his eyes close as it took it's sweet time to disappear. For someone who liked to play with fire as much as Dabi did, it was almost funny to experience the burns on his tongue and down his throat, but he shook his head quickly, hoping it would lessen the experience after all. Fiddling with the box in one hand, he opened it, reaching for one of the pills inside. Over the glass, he twisted open the capsule, discarding it inside the box once it was empty. Even if it didn't matter, he wasn't into leaving more evidence than necessary.

Mixing the contents inside the glass with one another by swirling around the alcohol, Dabi almost had to laugh about the irony. The pill dealer getting drugged seemed ironic to the villain, despite this having been the plan from the very beginning. In some way, Yuuma had it coming for him. Even if he had rather good intentions, he just had to take the wrong path that would lead him to people like Dabi. That wasn't something he was going to get out of ever again, so now it was up to Dabi to help him out. After all, the longer he stayed in the business, the more likely it was that Yuuma would end up hurt or with someone much worse than just the fire-loving sociopath. 

That was something Dabi would never be able to accept.

He had assumed that Yuuma would show up any second from now on, but it surprised Dabi nonetheless when the door suddenly got pulled open, Yuuma's grim-looking face appearing in the doorframe. He must have really hurried, a thought that made Dabi's heart skip a beat. Dabi barely had enough time to hide the silver box in his pocket again. Still, not wanting to raise Yuuma's suspicion, he quickly slipped it into his coat pocket, trying to look as innocent as possible. Finally alone with him, Dabi smiled a sincere, joyful smile, welcoming him with a merry, "Welcome home!" 

"So, what's your reason for showing up?" Yuuma asked, coming right to the point. He passed by Dabi, shoving the second drawer that wasn't shut entirely after Dabi had to hurry, close. If Yuuma knew he had been going through his stuff was a puzzle to the villain, but Yuuma didn't question it, and Dabi didn't persist in knowing that yet. 

"Been a long day, huh?" he avoided his question, holding out his drink to Yuuma. "Calm down, I'm not here to upset you." 

It was a peace offering. As simple as that. Yuuma's eyes met Dabi's, searching for any lies and malicious intent. "I need to talk about the next shipment for the League. That's all," Dabi tried to reassure him, urging the glass towards him once more. Hearing that, Yuuma's tension finally fell off, and he sighed, expecting to hear about losses for his business if Dabi was here to change the amount he ordered. And to get through that without losing his mind over how he'll pay the bills for the club, he really could need a drink. 

Taking the glass from Dabi's hand, he didn't miss a second to take a swig, remembering too late what kind of alcohol he had given to his customer. The damage being done to his throat, Yuuma could only cough, giving back the glass to Dabi, who laughed over his reaction as if he didn't have the same one before. However, against his expectations, Yuuma watched how Dabi merely put down the glass on the dresser's corner instead of drinking himself. 

"Here's the deal," Dabi spoke calmly, gathering more of Yuuma's attention on him. "I think you're doing a great job supplying us with those fancy little pills of yours, and honestly, you deserve better than this." Pointing his hand across the room, Dabi tried to bring his point across. 

"All this working on the club, mixing drinks, and getting leered at by those bad, bad people out there - that just doesn't suit you. There's still room for better things to come to you, isn't there?"

"The fuck are you even talking about?" Managing to get his voice back after the alcohol-fail, Yuuma stood up straight again, shaking his head. "Are you drunk or simply spouting nonsense again?"

The sudden dizziness was evident on his face as Yuuma reached up to hold his head while Dabi slowly approached. He wanted to be there for Yuuma, especially if the boy was going to fall right into his arms. "You don't even know your own worth, Yuuma. So I decided it was time for someone to appreciate you properly," Dabi explained, holding out his arms as Yuuma let out a groan, his body stumbling on the spot, ready to collapse.

"All you have to do is sleep, and I'll make sure you will wake up in a better place."

"Dabi, what the fuck--" Yuuma tried to argue, but he could barely focus on the words of the villain as his body began to fail him, his vision becoming foggy and gravity pulling him to the ground heavier than usual. Was it his luck or his doom that Dabi was right there to catch him as his knees gave out? Yuuma didn't know anymore. He didn't know anything. It was too hard, too tedious to think about what was happening when he felt just so damn tired all of a sudden. He was crushed by the exhaustion that forced him to blackout, sinking right into the open arms of someone he never considered could hold him so tenderly.

"You don't really have a say on this, but don't worry about a thing. Where we are going, your presence will be appreciated. I will make sure of it," Dabi chuckled, petting Yuuma's head as the drugged ones' conscience faded. He gave Yuuma his time to settle into the deep sleep, shaking his head as he lamented how nasty those sedatives were. Quick, effective, and if Dabi wasn't so fond of Yuuma, deadly. 

Throwing the heavy body over his shoulder, Dabi gave his butt a cheeky slap, announcing, "Off we go!" as he turned to the door, ready to leave. For a moment, he considered simply burning down the club, destroy all evidence there was. But where was the fun in taking everything from Yuuma yet? It may come in handy to have something to pressure him with if Yuuma turned out not so happy with Dabi's idea of 'appreciation'.

But for now, it was hard to wipe the smile off of Dabi's face, knowing he had won the battle already, even if the war was only really beginning.

[arkt-nehrim-archive]

                            A Story in Spring: Renewal {2/3}

A chill, gentle breeze rustled pleasant ambience out of the surrounding evergreens, peace nestling the hearts of those who occupied one of many small glens hiding away between the rough, rocky terrain of the Northrealm's Darlan County. 

Arkt remained still, relaxed with his eyes veiled as he peered across the surface of a still frozen lake- only a stubborn, thin layer of ice where the cold winds could touch the surface. He released a tiny ball of golden light to float over the little lake, joining many others to dance with twinned reflections on the ice, all to satisfy his idleness.

While watching them bob and sway of their own accord, his thoughts could not help but meander to his own twinned shadow; the woman settled behind him in a manner most of Nehrim would consider rather intimate, her legs tucked under his arms so her form was near flush to his back, granting close and easy access. She of course, remained well occupied with what had commanded her attention for some weeks now, the fruits of her labors showing clear as what was once scorched bone was now a beautiful set of feathered wings painted in clashing tones of iridescent black and silver; yet small, not serviceable for flight, but she had steady growth well in hand.

Wisps of gold and silver intertwined between pulsing circles of light as Lithirill remained focused, but her strain clearly showed. Much as she had been vigilant in knowing the signs of Arkt reaching his limits when this arduous process had begun, he too had grown wise to her tells. While fully revitalizing bone, and reconstructing flesh had been far more taxing than the simple act of regrowing feathers, she had still been weaving her magics for a pair of hours. She hid it quite well, but she needed a break.

He'd turn his head to watch her, a small unbidden smile crossing his features as he admired all he could see; the intensity of her focus, the fascination that never faded, the relief that she had made it well past the riskiest parts. His eyes fell to her fingers stroking the soft plumage at his shoulder, speaking gently.

"Hanging in there?" 

Peridot hues shifted slower than usual to meet circles of warm gold. Cradling a wing in her hand, she tilted her head, letting her gaze drift back to the figurative sea of silver she'd not expected when she first saw them emerge from otherwise dark feathers. "Well enough."  she replied, sounding more out of breath than she would've liked, "A little sore, given our arrangement, but I'll manage. I've only another row before-" He watched her sway a bit in place, the effort to speak and cast clearly a bit too much. He'd only shake his head, supposing he should be flattered she continued to be willing to push her limits- but he'd not let her do it when bereft of sound reason. A singular act of will fettered her spells, the myriad pulses of light fading. Before she could say anything in retort, he squeezed her calf, seeing the entirety of her leg shift up as she drew in a breath. "Too much longer of that and we would be trading places on who was tending who.~" he continued, the expression of entertainment growing on his face.

Overcoming the sensation of her spellwork coming to a halt so quickly, she settled his wing upon the grass and fumbled with her flask, taking a swig of ambrosia, eye twitching in brief disgust at a taste she'd never fully get used to no matter how hard she pretended to stomach it. To save Arkt the misfortune of smelling her breath, she rummaged into a pocket pouch and plucked free a bit of candied sugarmint, pressing one to her tongue and offering another to him. He only raised a brow, seeing her hum with a chuckle as she rolled the candy over her tongue a few times.

"And here I thought I was the mender, well within my scope of knowing precisely when to halt my machinations." she answered, loose fingers idly playing with feathers now mingling with the short, early growths of a Spring clawing its way from Winter.

Ignoring her overstaying gestures and teasing, Arkt decided to insist. Test a different sort of limit, more his own than her's.

"One of many things you've proven to be, yet all you'll be if these scales do not balance out between us is spent and miserable. -That- won't do. Come, take your deserved respite...Perhaps by the water's edge? Wandering deeper into the forest?" he carried on, pondering as he idly plucked at the laces of her boots before raising a finger in the air, adopting a playful expression. "-Ah-. I could carry you all the way back to the castle, where I'm sure a warm fire is waiting."

The entire offer was beginning to sound too good to be true. Arkt was a cordial creature, generous and open with her since the first, in his own mysterious way. Even so, there had been a boundary anyone with sense could read- and that was before considering all the legends implied, pushing Arkt closer to the threshold of a nameless entity than a man of flesh and blood.

Of course...He would not, and did not push that expectation upon her. Even standing before the very champion of Fate itself, did he only refer to himself as "a free man".  

Swallowing, Lith wetted her tongue, wavering curiosity in her eyes.

"If you think the notion of -any- of that will do anything beneficial for me..." she hovered over the words, off put that he wasn't only engaging with a warmer flavor of conversation, but -instigating- it rather fervently; so unlike him, "...you'd be right to a degree, but the tone of the evening would shift rather drastically."

"Yes, that was something of the point in saying all I did~." he returned, tilting his head just so, wavy raven locks shifting to dangle over his face, breaking off the subtle glow around his irises.

The fingers at his shoulder faltered a touch as Lithirill leaned back a little, so obviously flabbergasted and growing stymied by thoughts of what could follow that Arkt could -barely- contain the laughter.

"...You -are- flirting." she stated the obvious in baffled amazement, daring to dance as she tucked her ankle closer to his thigh, curling fingers round his arm as she leaned precariously close to resting her chin on his shoulder, "...I'll risk the embarrassment in asking you to pinch me. Whatever brought this on?"

"You're quite lucid, I assure you." he returned, shrugging gently as he abided her closeness,  resting his arm over her knee,  "Gratitude? Inspiration? Perhaps it's even -delirium-. Much as you puzzle over me, my mind still balks at knowing without a shadow of a doubt that my -wings- are resting between you and I. That evokes much..."

Lithirill's lips were caught between that confident smirk and the rarer nervous simper as he trailed off, cheeks growing warmer. She looked akin to a hare about to get pounced on by a hawk.

These games of idle coyness had become commonplace from his companion, at least since the conclusion of events that had named her Tel'lmaltath, but she knew them to be just that, a simple expression of her nature that receded the moment it ever hinted at offending him.

They had grown closer over the weeks of her tending, but never once had it played out like this when they did dance their short little twists and turns around one another.

She had strode atop the corpses of "Gods". Clutching the forces of Life and Death in her hands as if she alone were the scale to balance them.  Yet in humbler times, she had also been the withdrawn scholar, who took solace in pining over tales of fallen champions turned embodiment of untamable wrath. Twas a nostalgic feeling to be more the latter, quite too stricken to speak as she stared at the individual who had been such an entrenched inspiration to her. It would take another gentle pat atop her knee to pull her back to reality as Arkt actually half-barked a laugh.

"I expected some manner of stuttering your step Lithirill, yet as ever you exceed my expectations.~"  he admitted, eyeing her up and down as best he could at their odd angle,  "Are you quite all right? I feel as if your legs might give if you tried to stand at the moment." The flare of embarrassment had finally caught up with her as she blinked, scoffing out a laugh at her own expense. Reaching up to rub at her eyes, she showed teeth in an lopsided half-grin, the fatigue of the evening's work settling in.

"I won't pretend as if your accusation isn't dead on." she sighed in plain defeat,  "To one such as you, I'm sure I'm -quite- predictable, toying with you as I have been. You'll forgive me if I continue to be confounded by you in the meantime?"

"Hmmn. I like the predictability. Knowing all you've achieved that I could do no more than gamble on or hope for, the certainty of moments such as these are a comfort." he confessed, "Though, I can do nothing for your rattled humors~."

"Ahah...Don't be so sure..."  she hums  along, continuing to play gently with his feathers, very much tempted to pull herself flush to his back as she droned on in a playful tone, "Well then, I suppose I should find some courage, lest I bore you with my -quite- uncharacteristic, girlish stammering? It's unbecoming, truly, I can all be feel the whole of Qyra groaning in disappointment."

"I happen to be thoroughly enjoying myself, if it's any comfort. Though, you could stand to get under a wing at this point, you're starting to shiver." he murmured, leaning that little bit closer as to let his hair tickle her nose, "Or is that the nerves?"    

She scoffed, her eyes veiled as she turned her head up, resting brow to brow with him, "...Well now you're just -teasing-."

The seraph could only chuckle gently, nodding along, not missing the look in her eye.

"Oh absolutely." he near whispered, a lurching chill settling in his chest.

"...and what do you intend to -do- about that?"

He barely heard her, though the shift in her tone was still perfectly clear, a certain expectation slipping past her jitters. Finding the edge of how far he could dare to wander, he hovered over her lips a moment before swallowing, sighing through his nose and resolving to press a kiss to her hair instead of anything more tempting.

An apologetic smile met her fluttering lashes and tilted head as the air of their saccharine courtship turned to numbing concern.

"Nothing. Yet." he admitted gently, "In the similar vein that I am not ready to fly, I can guess neither of us are -truly- ready to do anything about this in a way we might not later regret. Curiosity plays us as one might a lute, to be sure, but..." 

Just like that, Arkt was at a loss for words.

Understanding what he likely meant, Lithirill's thoughts drifted momentarily to how the seraph regarded the grave site of the woman who had changed his life for all time. That estranging familiarity washed over her yet again, Zelara's image overwhelming her mind's eye for just a moment before she exhaled away the sensation.

As much for his comfort as her own, she brushed the back of her fingers along the spot where his feathers were there smallest, near transluscent plumes decorating the edges of his shoulder blades. She willed the roused appetite in her to settle, offering an understanding smile, lopsided though it was in the touch of disappointment she let slip.

"No need to explain, Arkt. As you told me when we set off on this little task of our's, we've nothing but time; that goes for more than just your wings." she spoke, turning her gaze north toward the off-the-beat path they'd meandered onto to find their surroundings, "For the moment, we may as well return to the castle. It is a touch chilly, and I won't lie. I'll need a bath after -that- particular bout of testing the waters."

An empty spot of last-minute insinuations and the signal their dance was over, placing them confidently back where they had begun;  Lithirill testing his boundaries and Arkt waiting patiently behind them, watchful. He'd join her again when he was ready.  If she knew one thing now, -she- certainly wasn't going to be when he did. 

                                                       ~Fin~

[orwocolor]

Love Thy Neighbour - Chapter Seven

Pairing: Gwilym Lee x Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Cursing

Summary: Gwilym shows up in your bookstore to apologise but there still might be more obstacles on your way to happiness.

Author’s Note: And another sprinkle of angst so that chapter six doesn’t feel so lonely. Only one more chapter and an epilogue remain, so keep an eye out for those! Comments and reblogs are always very appreciated :) Check my masterlist to read the previous chapters. Dedicated to my sweetie @justgwilym​.

Dragging your feet, you crash on your sofa, a floral pattern of one of the walls spinning around you. You squeeze your eyes shut, but as you lose the point of focus, you sense a rise of, so far, the most powerful wave of nausea. You fight the feeling and instead fix your gaze on one of the paintings decorating the living room.

Breathe in.

And breathe out.

You should not have drunk that much. But Jane and Charlotte were unstoppable and admittedly, you needed it. After a couple of drinks, you actually started having fun. Daniel turned out to be a very pleasant companion with a taste for slightly dry humour that, partially due to your inebriated state, made you burst in laughter multiple times during the party.

Oh god, you are going to hate yourself so much tomorrow.

Once it seems the whole world will not tilt again and toss you on your side, you brave a few steps into the kitchen and pour yourself a glass of water. Gulping it down, you can already feel its beneficial effects, which are further enhanced when you press the cold glass against your forehead. You serve yourself another drink and with each sip, you begin to trust your legs again.

You release a content sigh as a soft breeze and smell of rain touch your cheeks when you open the windows; it truly does a world of good. Grabbing yourself two slices of toast bread, you settle onto the sofa, open your laptop and click on a random video for you to watch while you wait to get better before you go to bed. If you lay down right now, you’re sure you would throw up.

With an occasional chuckle leaving your lips as you listen rather than watch a stand-up show, you almost miss a soft, hesitant knock on your door. Almost. Your fingers hover above the keyboard as you contemplate pausing the video. If you press the space key right now, there will be no doubt you’ve heard the knocking.

Slowly retracting your hand back to your side, you let the comedian continue in her sketch and you just wait. It probably takes only a minute, but for you, it’s an eternity before you can hear Gwil shut the door to his flat behind him.

You release a breath you have not realised you were holding and hide your face in your palms.

You are not in a state to face him right now. You need some time. And most importantly, you need to put some space between you, otherwise you’re going to care way too much, and you are not in the position of allowing yourself feelings of that sort.

~

“I’m sorry, sir, I’ll be back in a minute, just let me attend to this young lady,” you throw behind your shoulder as you rush to the cash desk and leave a customer in the historical section.

“Maybe I can be of service,” Mr Dean appears next to the customer’s shoulder, who jumps a bit, not expecting someone else, and you send a grateful glance to your friend. You knew you could count on him. Whenever he’s in a good mood, he loves to entertain people in the bookshop and no matter the topic or genre they’re looking for, he turns into an expert, gladly offering recommendations.

You hide a smile when you notice Mr Dean’s eyes sparkling as the man mentions the French revolution and he starts guiding him to the needed section.

“Here you go,” you hand the young woman her bag and say your goodbyes, a shrilling sound of chimes hanging at the entrance door announcing her departure.

While you bend down and disappear behind the till to throw away the receipt the woman didn’t want, the chimes sound again, and you emerge from behind the cash desk.

No.

He’s there, right in front of you, the surprise written in his face matching yours.

“Hello,” Gwil says softly and for a split of a second, you forget to breathe.

You’ve managed to avoid him the whole weekend by some miracle, although, admittedly, on one occasion, when you were forced out of your flat to do grocery shopping, you spotted him at the entrance door when you made a turn to your street. At that moment, you remembered you wanted to check something on your phone, and after fiddling with it long enough for Gwil to get home, you plucked up the courage to do the same.

You assured yourself you just needed some time and space and by the time you would meet him, you would have known what to tell him.

Well, your past self can go screw herself because here you are with your tongue tied.

“Hi, Y/N!” Ben is on Gwil’s tail and greets you cheerfully, his hand raised in a wave.

“Hi,” you manage to blurt out, quite happy with yourself for not butchering the single syllable. It’s all about little victories, right?

“So, uh, I’ll go check some books I guess,” Ben breaks the silence when neither you nor Gwil seems to do so, and scurries farther into the store.

“I am so, so sorry, Y/N,” Gwil eventually breathes out and raises his lowered eyes. “I wish I could have a good reason for not showing up the other day and for copping out on you like that, but I just don’t. I…”

He looks around and bites his lips, looking for a way of how to finish his sentence in books-filled shelves.

You wait patiently because you have the feeling that there is something he needs to say, and it would be ill-advised to interrupt his thoughts.

“Okay, I’m probably already not in your good books, so why not make even a bigger twat of myself, eh.”

“Ha, in the good books. Get it? You’re in a bookshop,” you chuckle, your voice not as strong as you would like it to be.

“Yeah,” he replies, and the corners of his lips rise up slightly. Soon, his voice turns serious again. “Well, I went to that stupid audition and I just fucked it up. Yeah, there’s no better word for that. I fucked it up, big time. I tried to persuade them to give me another chance, I said I would do anything, and the production assistant surprised me. She promised me another audition if I went for a drink with her afterwards, and I… didn’t refuse.” He takes a deep, shaky breath, presumably the first one since he started explaining what had happened. “I wasn’t thinking, and when I realised I was supposed to be with you, it was too late.”

“You could have called me,” you say slowly, daring to meet his gaze.

“My phone was dead. I was fiddling with it so much while I was waiting for the audition. Was driving Ben absolutely crazy.”

“Can confirm!” Ben’s head peeps out from behind a shelf and quickly hides again when he spots both your and Gwil’s not so amused expressions.

“Still,” you start and shake away the trembling feeling that is creeping to your voice, “You could have come by later and explain all of that to me that night.”

By some miracle, it’s as if he senses the direction of your thoughts, and rushes to set the record straight, offering the absolution you haven’t, until now, realised you desperately craved.

“The moment it dawned on me what a jerk I was, I said my goodbyes and left. But it was too late, and I felt like such a prick, so I actually dropped in another pub and drank some more. Was so shit-faced I stayed at my brother’s ‘cause he lives in that area.”

A great weight is lifted from your shoulders and you can finally take a deep and long breath. You feel a smile tugging at the corners of your lips but Gwilym does not see it; he is avoiding your eyes, as mortification keeps surrounding his whole person.

“I am so, so sorry,” he repeats once again and the moment the words leave his lips, you forgive him.

Actually, you already have.

You are just about to tell him so when he finally finds the courage to look into your eyes as he reaches out and gently grasps your hands that have been resting on the counter.

“Please, can you forgive me?”

His thumbs are lightly stroking your skin and you cannot tear away your gaze from his beautiful blue eyes.

“Sir, I must ask you to leave right now!”

Wait, what?

It takes you a moment to become aware of where you are and what is happening. The bookshop, right. And as for what is going on…

“Sir, I won’t repeat myself, leave this building immediately!” Peter’s voice reaches such volume that every customer stops in their tracks, their curiosity taking the better of themselves.  

“I was only showing this young lad the historic section. I don’t reckon it’s a crime,” Mr Dean responds in his defence, which only infuriates Peter some more.

“You’re always just helping other customers, or browsing, or, God forbid, reading our books without paying a single penny for them. I want you gone. This is not a library!”

“Peter,” you say weakly, not capable of wrapping your head around it. He isn’t supposed to be here, otherwise you would have warned Mr Dean beforehand.

“Is that the Mr Dean you told me about?” Gwil whispers and it is only then when you notice your hands are still placed in his and his face is much closer to yours than you remember.

“Yes, I’m–” you start but Gwilym won’t let you finish the sentence.

“Trust me, darling. I’ll stop by at your place at around seven, okay?” he hastily says and places a soft kiss to your cheek before leaving you at the till dumbfounded.

“Grandpa!” he greets joyfully and rushes to Mr Dean to give him a proper hug. “Have you found the book you told me about?”

Mr Dean shoots a glance your way before he replies. “Ah, I… Yes. Yes, yes, I did, give me a second.” You’re taken aback by his quick reaction because you have not moved from your spot, your jaw down, and you are pretty sure your arms are still stretched in front of you although Gwilym’s warm palms are no longer holding them. You fix your posture in an instant and clear your throat, at least trying to give the impression of having everything under control.

Although you are not particularly proud of yourself, you’re still doing better than Peter. He is just standing there, opening his mouth like fish as no words are leaving his lips.

Gwilym pretends he has only just noticed him and raises his eyebrows in make-believe innocence. “Is there any problem here?”

It takes a couple of moments before Peter gathers his bearings.

“I’m sorry, but this is your grandfather?” he finally finds his voice and points an accusatory finger at your dear friend.

“Yeah! He’s been wearing my ear off about this wonderful book he discovered here, so I’m here to get it for him. For his birthday, you know? Which is coming soon, isn’t that right, grandpa?”

“In a couple of days, actually,” Mr Dean confirms and nods his head seriously as if contemplating the fleetingness of time and existence.

“Urgh, I’m the worst grandson ever, really, looking for gifts this late, I should be ashamed of myself.” You are fascinated by Gwil’s acting; he doesn’t miss a beat and comes up with lies so quickly, all you can do is stare in astonishment. It’s not like anyone needs you right now because all customers are watching the scene unfold.

“Ah, got it!” The victorious announcement of Mr Dean makes Gwil turn on his heel and leave Peter behind.

“Wow, that’s really pretty! You weren’t lying about the photographs.” Gwil expertly inspects the pictures of various relics and nods, approvement and appreciation readable from his pursed lips. “Excellent! We’ll take it.” He closes the book in one swift motion and heads to your cash desk.

By this time, you have composed yourself enough to remember all the common niceties, and you are quite proud of your performance as you easily scan the book that you’ve seen cradled in Mr Dean’s palms many afternoons and punch the price into the card reader so that Gwil can pay.

“Would you like it gift-wrapped?” you do not forget to ask and when your gaze meets Gwil, your heart starts beating so fast you almost can’t hear the answer.

“Oh yes, please, that is if we’re not bothering you.” Gwil’s smile lights up his whole face.

“No bother at all,” the corners of your lips rise in a matching smile and you procced to neatly wrap the book in a piece of brown paper, taking extra care to tie a dark blue ribbon around the package.

“Thank you so much, have a lovely day!” Gwilym places the book under his arm and leaves the shop, Mr Dean on his tail offers a wave and a wink that, hopefully, Peter cannot see.

Through the display window, you almost miss Gwil turning around and mouthing ‘see you tonight’ before he and Mr Dean disappear behind the corner. You almost burst into laughter when Ben suddenly emerges from behind the bookshelves and dashes after them.

You have got the feeling that Peter is mumbling something, but all you can think about is your lovely neighbour and the kiss he ever so gently placed on your cheek.

You resist the temptation to touch your face, wondering whether the imprint of Gwil’s lips can be found there, or whether the gesture is forever inscribed into your mind only.

But then, you finally register Peter’s words...

“I can’t believe it! And of all days he’s got to pick today and embarrass me in front of the buyers. God damn it!”

… and your smile freezes.

~

Buyers.

The sequence of syllables still sounds foreign and dangerous to your ears.

Buyers.

No matter how many times it rolls off your tongue, the word remains the same.

So that’s it. Peter’s made up his mind and he is going to sell the bookshop. And that leaves so many questions unanswered. The new owners, are they going to keep the staff, or do they plan to hire a new bunch of people? Is there even some certainty that they will not rebrand and establish a branch of a fast-food chain? It’s not like the city is flooded with them, right.

You feel the dizziness creeping up your neck as those thoughts swirl in your head, not permitting you a moment of peace. You almost crash into a passer-by, but thankfully you manage to keep yourself upright and the take-out bag with your late lunch intact in your hold.

Once you finally arrive home, you heat up the food you have brought with you and open your favourite book in a desperate attempt to diverge the direction of your thoughts.

You are torn between biting your nails from the uncertainty of your future career and halting in the story and daydreaming about Gwilym’s visit tonight. And with that mindset, you go about your day while you clean up, water plants, and dust your flat; you have been putting it off for ages.

Emerged in thoughts, you almost mishear the buzzing sound of the bell. You are wearing baggy trousers and an old t-shirt with stains God-knows from what. You have reckoned you’ve still got time to change before Gwil’s visit. Oh well, he has seen you at your worse.

However, your brows furrow as you step into the hall and catch a glimpse of the digital clock.

5.40 p.m.

Swinging the door open, you are met with no one. Another sound of the bell and the line on your forehead deepens.

“Hello,” you mutter when you press the intercom, and the static comes through.

“Y/N! Hi! Ready to go out and grab coffee with me?”

It takes a moment before the dots connect.

“Oh, Daniel, hi! I… erm… can you give me ten minutes?”

“Sure thing!”

The dash across your flat, from the door to the dresser, then to the bathroom and back to the hall could be considered a match to any Olympian’s winning sprint race, but it is too early after your accident and your ankle makes itself known. You grit your teeth and grab a purse, leaving your flat and hoping no appliances have stayed turned on.

How could you have forgotten?! Stupid, stupid, stupid!

“Hi!” you greet breathlessly when you fly from the entrance door, and Daniel gives you a lopsided smile.

“You forgot, didn’t you?” No matter how hard you try not to give anything away, the blush on your cheeks betrays you. “Oh my God, you did!” Barking out a laugh, he lets you take a couple of deep breaths before you start walking down the street. “Maybe it should be you who’s gonna buy the coffee today.”

“Gladly,” you smile and spot a cosy café. For a split second, you consider taking him to Hazel’s, but then you imagine the soft hues of brown and gold against black and white background of your most beloved café. Your mind goes straight to the day you bumped into Gwil and Ben in there and you do not wish to stain that memory. Besides, this café is right behind the corner of your block of flats, which means you shouldn’t get stuck at some far-off place. “Actually, I owe you ‘cos I’ve got some plans at seven and I need to get home by then.”

“Oh, okay,” he replies hesitantly, and you bite your lips, feeling like an arse. Well, you can make it up for him by paying for the coffee, right?

~

You are trying. You are really, truly trying. Daniel is nice. Funny, smart, and knows all the iconic movie lines off pat, however, the moment you look into his eyes, you feel nothing, there is no bated breath, no heart beating fast. Nothing. And honestly, it seems you are not making a particularly good impression either. He takes notice of your constant checking the time on your phone, and when you catch yourself doing it for an umpteenth time, you roll your eyes at yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter after a moment of silence, which you wish were a companionable one, but you are too fidgety.

“It’s fine, I get it,” Dan offers a sheepish smile, which you return. “Let’s get you back home, okay?”

The wind is chilling and light drizzle lands on your hair. As you walk down the street, you notice that Daniel is trying to gently hold your hand. It starts with your fingers brushing and you would dismiss it as an accidental touch but when his fingertips graze the back of your palm, you sense the intention in the gesture. You bring your hand up, brushing off a damp strand of hair and scratching the back of your neck so as not to give him another opportunity for touch.

Hoping this debacle is behind you now, you say your goodbyes and grab the door handle to your building. Oh, how foolish!

“I know you’re lost in thought today but it was a nice date and honestly, I’m not ready for it to end.” He gives you a smile and his eyes sparkle when you stop in your tracks and turn your head to face him.

His gaze drops down to your lips and you are (literally) taken aback by the movement to such extent that your body shoots away. In the process, you press your back to the doorbell panel and jump a bit, not expecting that kind of contact.

“Careful.” Daniel’s fingers find your waist to keep you upright. “I realise I might not be the man of your dreams, but I hope we can go for dinner next time.”

“I…” you start, unable to find the words that would not hurt him.

“No, don’t say anything,” he whispers, and it is only then when you realise his face has inched closer to yours. And then he presses his lips to yours, and you freeze at the spot.

Your eyelids do not tremble with emotion, neither do you melt into his touch. You just stand there, barely moving your lips and thinking that this guy just cannot take a hint. You might have been waving the ‘I am not interested’ flag right in front of his face and he still would be none the wiser.

When he finally lets go, your gaze is still fixed forward and you suck in your lips in a subconscious effort to prevent him from another attempt of a kiss. However, you catch a flicker of light in the corner of your eyes and without giving it a second thought you twist your neck, and your gaze falls into the entrance hall. The windowpane which reflected two figures kissing a moment ago turns transparent and reveals a figure standing inside.

He’s there, at the top of the staircase, taking you by surprise for a second time this day.

But this time, his eyes are hurt behind his glasses, a deep line is forming on his forehead, and it seems as if he’s rooted to the cold stone floor. Your heart is breaking at the sight of him and you know you must do anything within your power to atone for this moment because you never ever want to see such pain written in his face.

“Gwil,” you breathe out softly and bend down to escape Daniel’s embrace. Pushing the main door, you rush to your neighbour, your friend, your… “Gwil, this means nothing, I’m not –”

“My doorbell rang, and I was foolish enough to think you couldn’t wait until seven. I…” He is avoiding your gaze, his eyes roving round the hall. He brings his hands to his sides, but quickly finds out there are no pockets in his soft camel pleated trousers and so he clasps them together. When he bites his trembling lips, it is almost unbearable to keep your eyes on him, but you cannot look away either.

Then, his features harden, and it is probably worse than before as your stomach tightens.

“Goodbye.”

You almost miss the sound, his voice barely above a whisper. Tears threaten to fall down your cheeks, but Gwilym is already gone, his moccasins tapping against the cold tiles of the stairs. You fight the urge to wrap your arms around yourself and have a breakdown right here and now. All you do is simply turn around, every movement calculated so as not to make an unnecessary one. Daniel is still standing at the entrance, his eyebrows raised in the piqued curiosity of what has just occurred.

“I can’t go for another date with you. I’m sorry.”

But you don’t feel sorry at all, well, not sorry for him at least. Your thoughts have turned into a tangled ball of turmoil and indescribable emotions, which are hard to make sense of.

When you reach your floor, you stop in your tracks to your flat. You have thought you lost all the courage, but you muster some from deep inside and cross the hall to knock on his door with determination.

God knows how long you are standing there, you knock again, and again.

Nothing.

Not even a sign of hope.

Your heart skips a beat when you finally hear the creak of a door being open, but a lump forms in your throat instead when it dawns on you that it is not Gwil’s door but Mrs Thompson’s.

“Hello Mrs Thompson,” you greet meekly the slightly open door of the 3A flat and drag your feet to your home.

You do not bother taking off your shoes or clothes. Crushing straight into your bed, you finally give yourself the permission to let your emotions flow and cry yourself to sleep.

~

Taglist: @lv7867​, @spacedustmazzello​, @queenwouldyourathers​, @im-an-adult-ish​, @fairestkillerqueenofall​, @supernaturalee​, @queenlover05​, @geek-and-proud​, @chlobo6​, @mrsmazzello​, @timeandpixiedust​, @kerouacsroad​, @gwilsmainhoe​​

[tsukifanbase]

Touch His Heart (Obey Me! Guardian! Lucifer x Reader)

Authors Note: i’ll probably be writing some more after this, so request anything your heart desires, my dears!

Warnings: pretty fluffy, lil tiny bit of angst, nothing too bad, oh (m/c) is referred to as a female

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

“Excuse me?”, Lucifer’s scowl deepened as he spoke those words, trying to reign in the temptation to lash out at Diavolo. He took a deep breath, a sigh brushing past his lips.

“I think it would be very beneficial to you, Lucifer”, Diavolo grinned openly, partially because he knew Lucifer had nearly no choice in the matter.

“You wish for me to babysit the exchange student?”, Lucifer recognized his situation, glaring at the man he owed so much to.

Lucifer was the deity of pride, such a menial task was below him. Along with the fact that his days were already filled by his duties.

“This new student is a human, who lacks the magical power needed to defend herself”, Luci was very close to rolling his eyes, either that or suggesting Mammon for the position, Diavolo’s voice broke through his thoughts, “it would be a great comfort knowing (m/c) was being protected by such a responsible demon”.

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed, trying to feed my pride? Interesting tactic, however-, Luci thought to himself, about to begin listing off the many reasons Mammon would be a better choice.

Before giving Lucifer a chance to debate, Diavolo shooed Luci out of his office, “I’m glad we are in agreement! Best go prepare for her arrival!”.

Lucifer made his way to the hall (m/c) would soon be summoned to, and by the time he arrived and was preparing to welcome you, Lucifer had made up his mind. He would watch over you from a distance, and avoid you as much as possible. Lucifer would protect you whenever necessary, but otherwise, he wanted nothing to do with the measly human that was making his life so difficult.

I imagine you can guess what happened next.

It was late one evening about four weeks into your stay in the Devildom, when you managed change Lucifer’s mind. It wasn’t that difficult, in fact, you already had broken down many of the walls he built up between you two. All Lucifer needed was that final push to finally accept that he didn’t hate your guts.  

Lucifer was attempting to complete some paperwork for Diavolo. It was very late night for Luci, or an early morning for some. There weren’t sunrises in Devildom, but on Earth, the sun would have been peaking over the horizon.  

You were on Lucifer’s mind, just as you had been ever since you arrived. You weren’t quite as easy to disregard as he had hoped. You were stubborn, and always managed to stick your nose in places that it didn’t belong. Lucifer found you infuriating. The fact that your schemes usually ended up making things better only made him loath you more.

Along with you instantly clicking with his younger brothers. They all trusted you so much. They so easily let their guards down, how could they be so idiotic? It was so obvious, this human had all six of his brothers under her thumb. With one flick of her finger, she could use them for her bidding. And yet it seemed that Lucifer’s brothers were willing to do anything for you regardless, why was that?

What makes this mortal so easy to long for? Lucifer shooed that thought away. He had buried it deep within, but Lucifer had fallen for you the first time your eyes met. He had been warned that you might have been frightened when you arrived. After all, it wasn’t like you had been informed you would be attending a school in the underworld. 

However, your eyes held no fear. Nor confusion. You first regarded Lucifer, then scanned the room. Then you turned back to Luci, and what you did afterwards was still etched into his memory. You smiled at him. 

It was that moment Lucifer subconsciously made a promise to himself. He would protect that smile of yours- your warmth that made him melt. As long as you would have him, Lucifer truly wanted nothing more than to live by your side, if that meant he could continue feeling the safety he found within your eyes that day. 

As mentioned before, however, Lucifer hadn’t quite come to terms with that yet. That was, until he heard his door open. 

The door opened slowly, enough so that Lucifer had time to vaguely acknowledge the his watch, and wonder who would be awake at that hour. He figured it was most likely Levi, still awake after gaming all night, or Asmo, on his way out to go get a jump on the lines at his favorite stores. 

Lucifer’s eyes drifted from the clock to you. You had a blanket wrapped around your body, and you sleepily reached up to rub your eye while you yawned. 

For once, Lucifer was stunned into silence. Rather than pretending to be annoyed at your presence, as he usually did, Lucifer found himself worrying about you. She should be asleep, humans need far more rest than demons, what if she falls ill?

What broke Lucifer out of his thoughts was that contagious smile again. His eyes were glued to you, as you made your way towards him. Lucifer didn’t quite register that you were getting closer until you stood right beside his chair.

“What are you-”, Lucifer began to question, you cut him off by spreading your arms and pulling Luci into a hug. Your blanket engulfed Lucifer as you held him. 

Lucifer made no move to hug you back, nor to move away. He was stunned, and hardly had the resolve to push you away. Lucifer was exhausted, and he felt himself turn slightly so he could properly melt into your embrace. 

Lucifer wrapped his arms around your waist, and let his eyes flutter closed. 

He half expected you to laugh at him, make fun of him for being so weak. You didn’t, you simply moved one of your hands to the back of Lucifer’s head, further tucking his face into your neck. 

“Even the most powerful demons have to rest sometimes, Lucifer”, you whispered into his ear. Not many thoughts were going through Luci’s head at this point, but one thing he noted was how much he loved hearing you say his name. How much he loved hearing you, how much he longed for you. 

You gently released Luci from the hug, and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. He felt you pick up his hand, and brush your thumb over his fingers. You didn’t have to say anything for him to know what you wanted. Lucifer stood from his chair, and allowed you to lead him out of the room, and down the hall. 

In truth, Lucifer was awake enough to have shooed you away, or lectured you for interrupting him. However, the feeling of your lips against his cheek, your hand leading him, your every move made him ache to love you. Lucifer knew he made the right choice when you arrived at his bedroom. 

You pushed the door open without a sound, and pulled it closed once you both had entered. Lucifer sat on the edge of his bed, eyeing you as you placed your blanket beside him, then tugged off his jacket, and hung it in his closet. 

At that point, you discerned that he could manage on his own, so you leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead. 

“Sweet dreams, Lucifer”, a smile spread across your face, and you turned to begin making your way back to your own room. 

You didn’t really get far though, as you realized pretty quickly that Lucifer was holding onto the back of your shirt. With a quick tug, Lucifer pulled you back into him. 

You landed on his lap, and felt Lucifer bury his face into your neck once more, as his arms snaked around you. 

You could practically hear the smirk in his voice, “you forgot the blanket”, Lucifer’s hand crept up your neck and settled on your chin, where he turned your face to look at the forgotten piece of cloth. 

Lucifer allowed you to stand, and you turned just a bit too fast. 

Your face flushed red as you cast your eyes to somewhere else in the room, Lucifer was shrugging off his shirt. It briefly occurred to you that Lucifer hadn’t actually asked you to stay, he had only pointed out your mistake. However, his true message seeped off of him like his pride. 

Lucifer settled himself on his bed, then glanced back over at you.

“Come”, he purred, and he didn’t have to ask you twice. Lucifer engulfed you in his arms once more, and once he closed his eyes, he felt you cup his face, forcing him to look at you. 

When you didn’t speak, Lucifer opened his eyes to find you staring at him, admiring him. A light, pink blush dusted his cheeks. 

“You worry about everyone, but you never worry about yourself”, you murmured quietly, gently rubbing Lucifer’s cheek with your thumb. 

Lucifer could tell you didn’t quite mean to say anything, and that only made your message more endearing to him. He closed his eyes once more, letting himself slowly drift away, lulled by the slow strokes of your thumb. 

“Thank you”

[jean-does-not-have-a-horseface]

Before Dawn ~Pt4~

I was so so so so so insecure to post this chapter so I only hope you enjoy first smooches with Levs. My requests are always open so if you're in the mood you can always drop by and request anything.

Find the other chapters here

Warnings: mentions of blood and a tad if nudity

As always @hidehaskak

Snow veil

"I'm so cold."

The raging blizzard blows mercilessly onto you and Levi. As tremendously large snowflakes fly to every direction as the wind makes an unbearable howling sound you clutch your one hand closer to Levi's winter cloak. Your lower jaw is radically colliding with your top one as you wrap your other arm around you in hopes of warming up. You can feel Levi tensing up every time a new wave of ice cold snowflakes land on him at the freezing weather and even though he's shaking, much like you, he speaks no words back to you.

He probably feels guilty for being the one to accidentally force your duo into this. After last year's fiasco involving Levi's, Farlan's and Isabel's inclusion to the military without having received proper training Mike had taken upon himself to investigate on any lack of training between both new recrewts as well as older veteran corps members. As a new squad leader and section commander he didn't want to take any chances against the survival of his soldier and you admired that deeply. His compassion and determination were always things that made you trust him blindly whenever Erwin assigned him in command of your old squad.

Therefore the plan was simple; you'd take the route assigned to you in small groups of four and you would head to a training corps base according to map. It should only take three hours to get there by horse and then you were free to relax, always following strict curfews.

But as beneficial as Mike had thought winter training would be he would have never guessed the raging blizzard or the avalanche that separated you and Levi from your groups.

It's had taken an hour for him to try and locate anyone of his team, his flares weren't working due to the hawling wind scattering the smoke around, when he finds you. He watches in horror as you try to cover your face with your arms to protect yourself from the cold, ignoring the necessity of looking at your surroundings and most particularly, ignoring the vast cliff that lays only a few teeny centimeters away from your horse's feet.

Speeding up to catch up to you, Levi hit the sides of his mare in a tender manner with his feet. The horse speeds smoothly for only a few meters, as if there isn't any snow around to be bother by. Levi takes it upon himself to treat his horse to some fresh apples and carrots he has in his bag once this was all over. His mare deserves a little rest and some extra treats for all the excellence and delicacy she carried.

"Hunny no!"

He had only avert his eyes for a fragment of a second when your horse tripped over the edge of the cliff urging you to let out an eardrum piercing screech that made the ravenette run to your direction. With a harsh dry halt his mare stopped on her tracks just at the tip of the cliff in a rather convenient coincidence of time. Had he been a second later how wouldn't have been able to grap your forearm as you shot up in the air. No matter his strength and his quick tactics you had managed to startle him with your despairate scream for your horse as it detached from the stirrup that was stuck to your leg, causing him to let you slip for only just a bit. Nonetheless it turns out to be enough to send the rest of your body clashing with sharp rocks. The levels of adrenaline inside you prevent you from realising the damage you have received; an enormous wound that stretches from your back ribs to the under side of your breast, gashing enough blood to slowly drench your clothes crimson.

Levi much in a stressful haze as you, ignores the wound as well, his orbs glued to your petrified expression as your body gives in to a potential tragically painful death. Without wasting anymore time he forces your body up, none of you hearing the sounds of bones cracking and in seconds you find yourself sinking in a puddle of delicate white. This time Levi doesn't fail to notice the hot crimson liquid that contrasts with the snow.

You find yourself unable to speak. Your voice is cracked, stuck in the back of your throat as your sides and more importantly your leg, finally start pulsing with agonizing pain. Even if you try to fixate your hearing to Levi's words you fail miserably, battling hot tears that gather at the bottom of your eyes. Levi helps you on his mare, wrapping you securely with your winter cloak to keep you warm and you sigh in return to his comforting actions.

You only force yourself to speak to inform him of your location in the mountains.

There should be a small barrack like resort of hot springs and saunas around that nobles have abandoned in the last few years and if you took the right path you could reach one of them in time, before the sun set.

That was your initial plan nonetheless, from the moment you got separated with your team. Search parties could definitely find you there faster as well, they would be aware of the locations and by thinking of a right way to pinpoint your location you would save them from a lot of extra trouble. Nobody really wanted to spend so much time in the cold snow searching in vain. You knew that one so far.

"T-theres a hot springs resort, not very far-" you speak, voice trembling with each exhale, making Levi drop his shoulders just a tad in blissful relief.

"Tch, don't push yourself"

"I was searching for one, it shouldn't be far, judging by that cliff we have to head a few miles southwest."

Levi simply nods in response and urges you to hold tight onto him as he sets off. You reach your hand to apply pressure to your wound, you know there's a chance that if you don't even try you're going to die by immense bleeding and Mike will not hesitate to haunt you in the afterlife for not dying like a proper soldier.

Words barely slip your mouth whenever Levi asks for directions or of your condition, the pain you're feeling is excruciating to say at least and you begin to wonder if you're ever going to manage to one of those springs. Levi will have another burden on him, a full dead body to take care of and even though somewhere deep inside you a little ring of panic lingers and you hate yourself for thinking like that you try to stay calm and collected.

As if the God of Walls has been invading your very thoughts you quickly stumble into a breathtaking scenery. A small, snowy paradise lays before your eyes; a wooden cabin with a roof so white that it resembles a bride's vail and a teeny puddle of water that emits sheer smoke. The oasis is well hidden from the tiny trainee headquarters, but you can still make them out, maybe a flare once the storm is over will help you get found out sooner.

"Levi is that really a hot spring, or am I hallucinating?" You check with him, merely to confirm that you're still not in a close to death state.

"I'd be damned if it isn't"

___

"I'm not getting naked in the freezing cold" You bark at him with a tone so high pitched he feels that his eardrums will burst.

"Unbelievable! You're not even calling the shots, your leg is shattered and your side is torn open." Levi's voice is harsh and stern and swelling from the boiling anger in his chest for that he can't bring himself to understand how you even manage to deny the essential medical care you have to receive.

"No!"

"You have wounds to attend to, and I can't do it if you are soaked in dried blood, that being said you'll be infected and full of maggots tomorrow if we don't take action."

Your lips have formed a distinguishable pout in your face, he knows that expression as the one you get when you're being stubborn, difficult even so he takes it upon him not to buck down. No one else is going to die on his watch, especially if it not even by titans.

"Well" you nervously avert your gaze "Maybe I don't want you to see me naked!"

"Do you ever think about what you're saying or do you blurb shit out of your mouth like it's explosive diarrhea?" Levi snairls at you. "This is no time to be a prude."

You're suddenly at loss of words. Prude? He really had just called you prude out of all things, then and there and even he was probably just a little right, you really couldn't bear the thought of you being so suggestive around him. And he seriously doesn't see that, when he is supposed to be an expert at reading people.

Perhaps believing that he looked at you under any other light apart from being your superior was a misjudgment of yours.

Nevertheless when you decide to take off your clothes your efforts fall in vain. The pain in your leg won't even let you have control of the limb and you can barely even shuffle around due to your side. Levi takes a notice, he has to since his eyes are fixated on you and you watch as he comes closer. His hands are most delicate to the touch, helping you wordlessly with the binds of your chest that have stuck to your wound. You let out eventual flinches, huffs of misery from the extravagant pain, making Levi sigh in turn. When his arms wrap around your form your hands go to cover anything you can salvage from his eyes even if he seems to not pay any form special attention to your bare chest.

The situation is rather hard to grasp. One, because you haven't had such soft, warm bath in years and two because Levi, out of all people is in the very same hot spring as you. The water is soothing, flowing peacefully around your body as Levi works his handkerchief around your wound with one hand. The other, he uses to keep you steady in the water making up for the fact that you can't stand on your own feet.

It's a prominent position, if you had to admit. Your forehead rests on the top of his head while your chests barely graze and you have to remind yourself that he's only doing this to take care of you, because he's Levi and he's extraordinary compassionate with his comrades and not because he has any affectionate intention towards you. As unfair as it sounds to you, even if it makes your head and heart grieve the loss of a lover that's not even yours, you can't help but want to look into his eyes. You only manage to do so when he slightly pulls away to grap the bar of soap that rests close to his hand.

You bite your trembling lip in hopes of halting it. He looks like a God under the moonlight, bathed in hot water. Soft unevenly full lips are tinted with sheer purple and his skin is so much more paler than possible that you can see blue and purple blood vessels underneath his eyes. His short ebony locks are sticking to his forehead while droplets travel from their ends to the expansion of his face only to finally gather underneath his chin. Why did he have to look like that, and why did your heart flutter every time his steel eyes blinked into yours.

"Can I kiss you?" It falls out of your mouth mechanically, serving as a bold reminder that your words have once again taken over you.

Levi doesn't exactly react, not just yet, he only examines you with his eyes. Up and down you watch them run until they stop at your lips, your chin, anywhere in that area of your face.

His thumb flickers on his lips but never dares to jump the few centimeters that stand in the way to yours. He's undoubtedly awestruck by your inquiry and you can see it, but your vision is quickly blurred by an unfamiliar piercing feeling. Of course that's rejection. Why would he ever say yes. And most importantly what were you thinking?

"That morphine shot is messing with your head, which means it's probably time to patch you up."

But he doesn't make a single move to ruin the moment. You take notes as his hand leaves his own lips and dives into the water, standing just inches away from your waist. The ungrant permission to touch you in such suggestive way prevents him, even if you're the one who's waiting for a reply to drop from his lips.

He contemplates on the dynamics, is it you that tops him or are you downgrading your position to the title of his chair, he hopes it's the first, it makes him feel free, as if he's not needed to lead for once, deep down all he wants to do is follow.

That boiling spitfire inside of you insists of getting a solid answer, even if you try to push it in the darkest crevice if your mind. It wins, almost without any fight, mostly because you want to hear to believe it.

I don't want you to kiss me. That's all he has to say.

"If you don't do it, now, I'll shit my pants from the anticipation." What?

Without a second thought you shift your head forward, closing the gap between you. His lips are strong, cold and they taste like green olive soap, the one he's always using, but they don't feel foreign on yours. If anything the two pairs lock perfectly as if they're a match made by heavens, meant to find each other in this dark December night under a million snowflakes.

It doesn't last for long, a fact that engrosses you out and it's not lust filled either. It's soft and extremely fragile and you're taking the lead while you slowly move your lips up and down. Levi doesn't know your stomach is about to burst and that you're sure it will slip from the wound on your side if it continues swelling up with all this pride. In turn you don't know that his heart is clenching his chest in agony.

You're extremely against pulling away but you do, to inspect his expression for a brief second. The adorning curling of his lips is in perfect balance with his soft brows. Before you know it his hands are at the small of your back and underneath your clothed bum searching for ways to support you without hurting you. The only hand you can move goes to graze the coarse shaved hair at the nape of his neck.

The second kiss you share is much more passionate and greedy. It takes all you've got to limit your breathing through your nose; you want this to last. Your longing to taste him for as long as you can doesn't allow your lips to slips away from his.

His hands still grip on you so respectfully, as if you're going to regret this and push him away. But it never happens, you just continue to scratch at the back of his head, urging him to get impossibly closer. Even though panic ensues through his whole being, making his hands shake and his cheeks glow red, he manages to pull through this loving task with ease.

He doesn't want to pressure you just yet, so his thoughts never reach the tip of his tongue, but is this for real? Or was it his wild imagination?

With a pinch on his nose he pulls away, sparing a last glance at your swollen lips. "We should... Get out. I'll patch you and then-" As you interrupt him he doesn't miss the way your eyes avert from his.

"Of course sir. I'm sorry I got so carried away."

Levi snorts. So that's how it is then.

[lifblogs]

Whumpay: Day 4 - Ice / Fire

Stay Strong, My Love

read on ao3 2572 words mature, star wars: rebels, hera syndulla, grand admiral thrawn, graphic depictions of violence, torture, interrogation, electrocution, forced nudity, slavery mention, minor sexual assault, hypothermia, cultural appropriation, referenced rape/non-con (this is basically a dead dove: do not eat)

Hera couldn’t believe she had been captured. And by Grand Admiral Thrawn. That dirty Imperial low-life! She wanted to punch him in the face, find out what color his blood was. She tended to not think of herself as a violent person, and fought when she had to and for what she believed in. But he had rubbed his disrespectful and ruining hands all over her culture. He’d taken her family’s kalikori and kept it like it was some kind of trophy. To him, her culture was nothing but something to be collected to survive the extermination he was part of.

But her culture wasn’t a trophy, or artwork for any scum to just admire. It was hers, her family’s!

And now she was captured by this horrid man.

She was restrained in one of the interrogation chairs, the metal cold and hard against her.

Thrawn walked into the room, as poised as ever, and Hera snarled at him.

“Comfortable?” he asked.

Her gut instinct was to swear at him, to tell him how horrible he was, but no, that would surely have no effect on him. Instead she asked, “Does this look comfortable?”

“Hmm… I suppose not. But that’s the point, isn’t it?” He approached her, and got so close she could smell him, could feel his breath on her face. Hera tried to shy away, but she was strapped in tight. “Discomfort. Pain. These are all things that will hopefully extract the information as to the whereabouts of your base from you.”

He caressed her cheek, and she restrained the urge to spit at him.

Keep it together, Hera. You’re better than that.

A small frown crossed his face when she pulled away.

“I wish I could say I was sorry about this, as I do respect you, and find your culture most… interesting. But, you see, you’re undermining the Empire, so there is no way we can be friends. Not unless you cooperate, of course.”

“What makes you think I’m going to cooperate with you?”

“Oh, you will,” he said in his soft, accented voice, that was somehow brimming with confidence. “In time, my dear. Now, enough pleasantries. Shall we begin?”

Thrawn went over to the desk across from Hera, and picked up a remote that was on it. He fiddled with some of the controls, and then the chair’s conduits were drawing close to her.

Hera had been in pain before, had struggled. Though this situation was new, she hoped she could get through it. She had to. She dared not even think of—

Stop. Don’t even think the name.

So Hera tried to think of something else as the conduits drew closer to her head, as there was a slight whine as they began to charge.

Think of Kanan.

Drawing up any happy memories or images was difficult with the calm way that Thrawn stood before her, ready to hurt her. He was clearly determined to get his way.

“We don’t have to do this,” he said to her.

Hera gave him a fierce grin despite how she was beginning to shake with fear, and said, “I’m afraid we do.”

A small smile upturned one corner of Grand Admiral Thrawn’s mouth, and he pressed a button.

Suddenly, it was like Hera was being stabbed a thousand times over. And then the stabbing turning into fire. Her body convulsed of its own volition, muscles spasming and aching. She had no control of the tortured sounds that left her. She forgot everything but the aching and the stabbing and the fire. Oh, the fire.

Every second was unbearable, and there was no part of Hera that could stand it.

After what was surely an eternity, the conduits were powered down. The electrocution stopped.

Hera trembled, her head aching. Her vision was blurry, and she began to feel… numb in certain places, even with the fire crawling over her face. She couldn’t breathe. Oh stars, she couldn’t breathe!

Thrawn came forward, and she started as one of his hands touched her lekku.

Hera tried to growl at him, but all that got her was drool unceremoniously dribbling from her mouth and onto her chin. To her great surprise, Thrawn wiped it away for her.

Was this even real?

She shook her head, trying to clear it. His hand was still caressing her lekku, examining the one on the left.

“Fascinating.”

“Don’t… Don’t touch me!” she got out.

And then she realized her mistake. He now knew one thing that got to her. But how could it not get to her? Only family members and Kanan were allowed to touch her there. And with Kanan it had to be in private.

Hera tried to bury the hurt under an amusing memory, but it wouldn’t come to mind. She was too groggy. There was just this scum. Hera wanted to see him crushed, even wanted to do it herself.

“So are these tattoos? I heard these are… very sensitive. How brave of you.”

“What does it matter to you? Just get your hands off me!”

Thrawn stroked her left lekku once more, and the sensations burned, but not with the same fire that was consuming her face. This was one was soft, deep, and sensual. She bit her lip against a groan, but a sound still came out—a whine.

Then he stepped back, and hefted the remote again.

“As you wish.”

This time when he pressed the button, Hera forgot where she was, and didn’t know how long she endured the agonies put upon her.

“Now,” Thrawn asked, “where is your base?”

“Kanan…” Hera breathed.

She… she needed Kanan. Where was he? Why couldn’t he be here with her?

No, no, no. That wouldn’t be good. That would mean he’d been captured too.

Was she captured?

Where was she?

“Don’t make me ask again.”

Hera looked up, her head falling back against the hard, unforgiving metal of the interrogation chair. And all she saw was Thrawn. His blue skin, his unforgiving red eyes, the makeup he wore around them.

“Go ahead,” Hera snarled. “Ask again.”

This time when the pain hit, when she was stabbed with fire, and her body was made to seize, the base came to mind. It was home for her, in a way. Just like the Ghost was.

Atollon.

When the pain stopped, in her tormented delirium, Hera began to say the name, but sudden clarity came upon her. She turned what she had started saying into a scream, hoping to fool Thrawn.

It seemed to work, as he sighed, and withdrew.

“Disappointing,” he commented. “Luckily, I know just what to do with you.”

He turned on the comms on his wrist, and ordered someone, “Jump to hyperspace. Set a course for Hoth.”

“Right away, sir,” came the response.

The smile that Thrawn gave her chilled her down to her bones. He caressed one of her lekku again, making her flinch and try turning her head to bite him. It was no use. He tugged, and gods, she wished she could kick him.

“I’ll leave you be now. Hopefully I won’t have to go to the extremes I’ve planned. I’ll let you rest, think about our conversation. It would be most beneficial for you to give me the information I seek.”

“Over my dead body.”

“No, that won’t do. Goodbye for now, Hera,” he said, making to leave. “Do think on where your base is. I’m very curious. It would save me a lot of work.

Hera tried to bare her teeth at him one last time as he left, but it came out more as a grimace.

When he was gone and the automatic door slid closed, she started crying.

~~~

An hour passed before Thrawn came back. In that time Hera was sure she’d lost consciousness a few times, because she’d seen Kanan. She’d seen Sabine, and Ezra, and Chopper, and Zeb. The Ghost.

Ato—

Stop. If you think the name he starts winning.

Hera had to hold out. Somehow.

“I hope you’re feeling more agreeable than you were earlier,” Thrawn said in lieu of a greeting.

“And I hope you’re less of an ass.”

“Funny. Now, where is the rebel base located?”

“What rebel base?” Hera asked, trying a tactic Kanan had taught her. To not give anything away during interrogations, to respond to questions with a question.

“Fine, if that’s how you want to act.”

Thrawn waved his hand, and there must’ve been a camera somewhere in the room, because soon stormtroopers were entering.

“Strip her,” Grand Admiral Thrawn said. “Put her in binders. And, oh, bring in a shock collar. I don’t want her wandering too far.”

“What… What are you doing?”

“You’ll see,” he told her.

Hera tried to fight as she was released from the interrogation chair and the stormtroopers’ rough hands were on her, stripping her. She felt like she was going to be sick. Her head was spinning, and her mouth was making far too much saliva.

“Don’t touch me! Get away from me! Get away! Stop!”

They weren’t gentle with taking off her head covering, which left her lekku with an odd ache. Her clothes were being taken off, and she desperately wanted to cover herself. But she was held steady.

Suddenly, she was punched in the gut, and her head spun, the air in her lungs leaving her. First she had just felt the pressure of the blow, but now it was beginning to throb.

Hera forgot all about keeping her dignity in front of the enemy. What dignity was there in being forcibly stripped?

When that was done, she was left shivering, the room cold and unforgiving. The stormtroopers put her in binders, and another came in with a shock collar.

Hera tried to kick at them, but it was simply unceremonious flailing with the way they held her fast. She was slapped across the burn on her face, drawing blood. Her vision went black, and she screamed.

Brain fogged with pain, she was hardly aware of when they put the shock collar on her. All she felt was the unnatural, horrible weight of it. And all of her tensed, waiting for pain that would surely come.

But none did for now.

“Take her outside.”

Oh. That’s what he was doing.

Thrawn seemed to notice the realization in her eyes, and he praised, “Good girl. I knew you were smart. You know, it doesn’t have to be this way. Just tell me where the rebel base is. This is your last chance.”

Hera, having lost all her dignity already, spit on him. The fucking bastard didn’t even flinch. He just wiped it away, and started leading the stormtroopers out.

Hera wanted to cry and hide, seek out a dark corner where no one would ever find her. Thankfully, Thrawn didn’t seem too interested in her nudity, but she couldn’t tell where the stormtroopers were looking because of their stupid helmets. She wouldn’t be surprised if some of them were… admiring her. She’d heard horror stories of what they did to her people on Ryloth. And she knew the terror of being a Twi’lek, that any of them could suddenly be captured and sold. Her people were popular in the slave trade, and she’d known of what was done to them since she was a child, having learned the hard way during the Clone Wars through seeing the torment of her people.

All that terror filled her, and the shame, and the humiliation. Hera didn’t want to exist anymore.

If she told them where the base was, maybe they’d let her put her clothes back on. They wouldn’t be doing these evil things. They might stop.

That nearly broke her.

But she knew she couldn’t tell them. Too many good people would suffer and die if she said that one word, that name. The rebellion would be over. The Empire would win.

Hera was just one person amongst all this. And she was one person who had to persevere.

Stay strong, my love, she heard in Kanan’s voice in her head. Maybe it was a memory, or perhaps it was real. Could she actually feel him? Could he reach out to her like that? Maybe she was just suffering from pain- and fear-induced delirium.

Hera was brought to the bay doors. Cold wind immediately attacked her as they opened, leaving her trying to retreat. But a stormtrooper shoved his blaster roughly into her lower back, making her grunt.

She was dragged down the ramp as it lowered, and then was tossed off of it, into the snow.

Hera’s breath was taken from her. Shock took over her body, and she couldn’t move, could barely think.

Snow, and ice, and wind attacked her. The cold was so fierce that it burned, not even acting as a balm for the injuries to her face. When her breath came back to her, she let out a strangled screech, the cold touching incredibly sensitive places on her body.

Over the wind, she heard Grand Admiral Thrawn: “Don’t try to run away. If you do…” She twisted to look at him, and through the blinding white and the excruciating cold digging into her, she saw him raise a remote. His thumb roved over it, almost sensually; and Hera was too frozen to feel sick inside. “Think on the location of your base. I’ll have someone come back to collect you… eventually.”

The ramp retracted, and the doors started closing. Somehow Hera got herself to move. She ran through the burning ice, and began banging her palms against the door, each smack feeling like it’d break skin.

“Hey!” she cried. “Hey, stop this! Please, let me in!”

Her pleas were useless, and eventually she gave up. She was so tired, so cold, and she nearly just sat down in the snow.

Keep moving.

Her motions were slow, but she trudged away from the ship. Remembering something Kanan had told her about one of the places he’d been she started digging into the snow. The stinging pain that quickly turned into numbness had her crying again. The tears froze on her face.

“Hera.”

“Kanan?”

He touched her shoulder, and she leaned against him, feeling his warmth.

“You know I’m always with you.”

“Of course, love.”

White turned to black.

Hera woke up, snow swirling around her, piled on top of her. How long had she been out here? Was she going to die? She couldn’t feel her body, or her face. Not even her lekku. There was nothing to feel. Perhaps she was getting frostbite now. Hypothermia.

How long? How long had she been out here? Since she wasn’t dead yet, surely only minutes.

Through bleary vision, and fighting exhaustion, she saw the doors open and the ramp descend. Stormtroopers came and collected her.

Hera lost consciousness as her ice cold body was dragged inside.

When next she woke, she was in a medical bay, and Thrawn was watching over her. She started, which pulled at the tubes and wires she was connected to.

Micro-injections pricked her all over from the shock blanket they had on her, making her wince.

But she could feel.

Did she want to feel?

“Hera Syndulla,” Grand Admiral Thrawn began, “where is your rebel base?”

An explosion rocked the ship. Kanan was here. Hera would be rescued.

She bared her teeth at him, and declared, “I’ll never tell you.”