#‘why is future saying a favour in here?’ BECAUSE ITS LAUGHING WHILE IT SAYS THAT

[braveclementine]

General Ross

Warnings: None

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own my OC Elizabeth Lightwood. I do not condone any copying of this.

"Try to remember the kind of September When grass was green. . .

"Wake up dear, and say goodbye to your father." Tony's mothers voice stopped singing to say. Her fingers played flawlessly against the piano as Tony watched his white haired, much older father lift the blanket off of young Tony's face, who was sleeping on the couch.

"Whose the homeless person on the couch?" Howard Stark asked, buttoning his suit jacket. Tony smiled, watching young Tony sit up with a santa hat upon his head.

"This is why I love coming home for Christmas," Young Tony said. "right before you leave town."

"Be nice, dear, he's been studying abroad."

"Really? Which broad? What's her name?"

"Candice." Young Tony said while Howard plucked the Santa hat off of his head.

"Do me a favour? Try not to burn the house down before Monday."

"Okay, so it's Monday? That is good to know. I will plan my toga party accordingly. Where you going?"

"Your father's flying us to the Bahamas for a little getaway."

"We might have to make a quick stop." Howard said.

"At the pentagon. Right." Young Tony replied. "Don't worry, you're going to love the holiday menu at the commissary." Young Tony replied to his mother.

"They say sarcasm is a metric for potential." Howard replied. "If that's true, you'll be a great man someday." And then to his wife, "I'll get the bags."

"He does miss you when you're not here." Mrs. Stark said as Howard left the room. "And frankly, you're going to miss us." She said, getting up off the bench. "Because this is the last time we're all going to be together. You know what's about to happen." She said, slinging her purse onto her shoulder.

Young Tony nodded as his mother ran her hand up his arm. "Say something." Howard entered the room. "If you don't, you'll regret it."

"I love you Dad." Young Tony said. "And I know you did the best you could." He said to his mother. She kissed his cheek and then Young Tony was left, watching his two parents walk off the set.

"That's how I wished it happened." Tony said, addressing the crowd that he was standing in front of now. A group of college students, all in the engineering field. "Binarily Augmented Retro-Framing or BARF. God, I gotta work on that acronym. An extremely costly method of hijacking the hippocampus to clear traumatic memories."

He pretended to blow out the candle, but that couldn't happen because it wasn't a reality and he let out a small laugh, "It doesn't change the fact that they never made it to the airport or all the things I did to avoid processing my grief, but,"

He took off the glasses and the entire, familiar home scene around him started to dissolve, "Plus, Six hundred and eleven million for my little therapeutic experiment? No one in their right mind would've ever funded it. Help me out, what's the MIT mission statement?"

"To generate, disseminate, and preserve knowledge." Tony said as the college students chanted it with him at the same time. "And work with others to bring it to bear on the world's great challenges. Well, you are the others. And, quiet as its kept the challenges facing you are the greatest mankinds ever known. Plus, most of you are broke."

He got laughter from the crowd on that one. Didn't stop it from being true either.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Rather, you were. As of this moment, every student has been made an equal recipient of the inaugural September Foundation Grant." Students started to murmur, talking to each other in whispers, "As in, all of your projects have just been approved and funded."

The crowd broke into slight screams, cheering, and whispers.

"No strings, no taxes, just reframe the future! Starting now," He paused when he saw that he was supposed to introduce Pepper Hogan. His heart clenched because she hadn't been talking to him recently.

"Go break some eggs." He said quickly and then turned, dazedly walking off the stage. Fuck he'd forgotten all about the horrible fight with Pepper until that moment.

"Wow! Wow! That took my breath away." He was aware of one of the college head of departments touching him, trying to get his attention. "Oh, Tony! So generous. So much money! Wow!" He laughed awkwardly. "Out of curiosity, will any portion of that grant be made available to faculty? I know, 'Ooh gross,' but hear me out. I have got this killer idea for a self-cooking hot dog. Basically, chemical detonator embedded-"

"Restrooms this way, yeah?" Tony interrupted, pointing.

"Yeah. Embedded in the meat shaft."

A blond lady stepped in front of him, "Mr. Stark I am so sorry about the teleprompter. I didn't know Mrs. Hogan had canceled. They didn't have time to fix it."

He stopped walking as she was trying to walk backwards and talk to him face on at the same time. He gently touched her arm in reassurance and said, "It's fine. I'll be right back."

He walked out and into the hallway where the bathrooms and elevator were. He stood in front of the men's bathroom door for a moment, before checking behind him to make sure the weird faculty member hadn't followed him. He walked down to where the elevators were, the hallway empty except for one African American women who seemed to already be waiting on the elevator.

"That was nice, what you did for those young people." She said, speaking first. He had his back against the wall, feeling awkward again. The only people he was comfortable around anymore was Bruce, Y/N, and the rest of the Avengers although Wanda still scared him.

"Ah, they deserve it." He said nonchalantly. "Plus, it helps ease my conscience."

"They say there's a correlation between generosity and guilt." Well, she seemed like a smart woman. "But if you've got the money. . . break as many eggs as you like." Tony looked at her then, "Right?"

Tony turned to face the elevator, not wanting to look at her face on anymore, and noticed peculiarly, that the elevator button had never been pressed. He grew wary now. Was she going to pull out some Natasha like moves on him and try and slit his throat? Or was he just getting paranoid? But why would she stand here and not press the button? He reached forward slowly, pressing the up button.

"Are you going up?" He asked. Rumlow had tried to kill Steve and Y/N in an elevator. Maybe he should think about taking the stairs.

"I'm right where I want to be." She said.

Yep, she was totally going to kill him.

She reached into her bag and he said, "Okay. Hey!" He grabbed her wrist quickly. She glared at him. "Sorry, it's an occupational hazard."

"I work for the State Department. Human Resources. I know its boring but it enabled me to raise a son. I'm very proud of what he grew up to be." She slapped a picture right against his chest where his heart was. "His name was Charlie Spencer. You murdered him. In Sokovia. Not that that matters in the least to you. You think you fight for us? You just fight for yourself. Who's going to avenge my son, Stark? He's dead and I blame you."

She turned and marched away.

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"Eleven Wakandans were among those killed during a confrontation between the Avengers and a group of mercenaries in Lagos, Nigeria last month. The traditionally reclusive Wakandans were on an outreach mission in Lagos, when the attack occurred."

"Our people's blood is spilled on foreign soil, not only because of the actions of criminals, but by the indifference of those pledged to stop them." King T'Chaka said on the news channel now. "Victory at the expense of the innocent is no victory at all."

You turned off the TV and Steve looked over his shoulder. "You need to stop watching that stuff Steve. The news isn't a healthy place."

Both of you heard more news coming from another room and the two of you went and found Wanda watching another news channel, which was bashing her. Steve was the one to turn the TV off this time.

"It's my fault." Wanda said softly. Pietro was on the bed next to her, rubbing her shoulders.

"That's not true." Steve said softly.

"Turn the TV back on." Wanda said. "They're being very specific."

"I should've clocked that bomb vest long before you had to deal with it." Steve countered. "Rumlow said 'Bucky' and all of a sudden I was a sixteen year old kid again, in Brooklyn." He walked over to sit next to her. You caught Pietro's eye and jerked your head, the two of you leaving the room.

"She'll be okay." You said as the two of you hit the kitchen. "It just. . . we all find something to blame ourselves on the missions. I don't know, maybe our team just wasn't ready."

"Steve is a good trainer." Pietro countered. "The circumstances were just. . . unfortunate."

"That they were." You sighed, checking the time for the MIT convention. You hoped Tony would be home soon.

Vision suddenly came in through the wall of the kitchen. Both you and Pietro jumped.

Vision was, naturally, Wanda's soulmate. However, Vision being a robot somehow defeated the physics of Wanda turning into any animal. She did however, now have a butterfly tattoo on her back. It was strange. You were sure if Bruce ever found out, he would want to research it. . . but Bruce hadn't been heard from in forever.

"Vision! Doors!" You shouted.

"My apologies." Vision replied. "Mr. Stark is back and he's brought the Secretary of State with him."

You and Pietro exchanged a look. "Secretary of State?" You repeated.

This could not be good.

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"Five years ago, I had a heart attack and dropped right in the middle of my backswing." General Ross said. He was standing at the front of the table, addressing the rest of you.

Wanda, Vision, Sam, and Pietro sat on one side of the long table. Rhodey, Natasha, and Steve sat on the other. You sat in the middle, right across from General Ross, frowning. Tony was sitting to the side in the corner, looking uncomfortable.

"Turned out it was the best round of my life because after thirteen hours of surgery and a triple bypass, I found something forty years in the Army had never taught me. Perspective. The world owes the Avengers an unpayable debt. You have fought for us, protected us, risked your lives, but while a great many people see you as heroes, there are some, who would prefer the word 'vigilantes'."

"And what word would you use, Mr Secretary?" Natasha asked.

"How about 'dangerous'? What would you call a group of US- based, enhanced individuals, who routinely ignore sovereign borders, and inflict their will wherever they choose and who, frankly, seem unconcerned about what they leave behind?"

You opened your mouth to retort when he stepped to the side and a flat world of the map appeared.

"New York."

A video of one of the huge flying Centipede like Chitauri, with Hulk leaping from building to building.

"Washington D.C."

This one showed the helicarriers that were disappearing into the lake. The ones that you, Sam, and Steve took down.

"Sokovia."

Wanda and Pietro both shifted in their seats as a video of part of the land rising, buildings crumbling and crashing.

"Lagos."

Wanda looked away and Steve said, "Okay. That's enough."

"For the past four years, you've operated with unlimited power and no supervision. That's an arrangement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate. But I think we have a solution."

The man that had come with General Ross handed him a large booklet, which Ross placed on the table, handing it straight to Wanda. "The Sokovia Accords. Approved by 117 countries, it states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organization. Instead, they'll operate under supervision of a United States panel only when and if that panel deems it necessary."

You started to laugh and everyone looked at you. "Sorry," You chuckled, and then stopped because it wasn't funny. "The Government is going to control superheroes? You see, that's funny."

"Y/N." Tony muttered as you stood up angrily.

"Sorry but, does no one remember when the Vice President colluded with The Mandarin to kill the President of the United States? Does no one remember how Senators were bought off by HYDRA? You want the Government, which is corrupt as something can be, to tell the good people when they want something to be saved? What if we save the wrong thing? What if, a Senator who has been bought off by HYDRA, tells us to kill the good guys instead, making us think they're bad, huh?"

"Y/N" Tony said again.

"No!" You shouted, "The Avengers are guided by themselves because our leader, our Captain, has the best moral compass. So no. I don't accept these Sokovia accords. You think I would ever trust the Government after my past with them? In your fucking dreams. The Avengers were formed to make the world a safer place and we've done that."

"Tell me, Mrs. Stark, do you know where Thor and Banner are right now?" General Ross asked you. You sucked in your lips. "If I misplaced a couple of thirty megaton nukes, you can bet there'd be consequences."

"Thor and Banner aren't weapons, General." You retorted. "And I think you've forgotten Thor is the King of another planet. And Bruce happens to be Thor's soulmate. They are both either on Asgard or traveling space together. Who knows what Thor's Kingly duties are."

"Compromise. Reassurance. That's how the world works." General Ross sighed. "Believe me, this is middle ground."

"So, there are contingences."

"Three days from now, the UN meets in Vienna to ratify the Accords."

Steve turned in his chair to look at Tony. Tony looked up at him and then back down at his hands.

"Talk it over."

"And if we come to a decision you don't like?" You and Natasha asked at the same time.

"Then you retire."

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"Secretary Ross has a Congressional Medal of Honor." Rhodey said to Sam while Steve sat on the chair in front of them, reading through the entire Accords. You were also reading the Accords. So far, it didn't look very promising. "Which is one more than you have."

"Means jack shit to me." You snapped.

Steve gave you the look and you ignored him. When you were in a bad mood, you just happened to cuss more. That's how it worked and Steve would just have to accept that.

"So let's say we agree to this thing." Sam said angrily. "How long is it gonna be before they LoJack us like a bunch of common criminals?"

"One hundred and seventeen countries want to sign this." Rhodey argued.

"So what?" You complained. "So what? If you look at the statistics, the factual numbers, we have a 93.764% approval rates as Avengers. Which means, that these one hundred and seventeen countries are rolling belly up and surrendering to make only 6.236% of the world's population happy. They're in the minority, the Government is only giving in because they're weak and want to be elected again. That's it."

"How long are you going to play both sides?" Sam asked.

"I have an equation." Vision said suddenly.

"Oh, this will clear it up." Sam rolled his eyes.

"In the eight years since Mr. Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of known enhanced persons has grown exponentially. And, during the same period of time, the number of potentially world-ending events has risen at a commensurate rate."

"Are you saying its our fault?" Steve asked, paused from turning the page he was on.

"I'm saying there may be a causality. Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge inflicts conflict. And conflict. . . breeds catastrophe. Oversight- Oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand."

"Right." You declared. "So, the next time we have someone like Loki using aliens to invade the world, we should just kick back and relax, drink some lemonade and hope the U.S. army can do better since they're already under a Government contract. Well I'm all fucking for that, we should move to Japan and live quiet lives."

"Tony." Natasha said in a warning voice. "You are being uncharacteristically non-hyperverbal."

"It's because he's already made up his mind." You and Steve said together.

"Boy, you know me so well." Tony retorted. He sat up from where he was laying down on the couch. "Actually, I'm nursing an electromagnetic headache. That's what's going on Cap. It's just pain." He walked over to the kitchen, grabbing himself a cup. "It's discomfort. Who's putting coffee grounds in the disposal? Am I running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?"

He placed a tablet down and a picture of a young African American boy popped up on a holograph. "Oh, that's Charles Spencer by the way. He's a great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA, had a floor-level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul, before he parked it behind a desk. See the world."

You closed your eyes, knowing where this was going, what this was leading up to. Charles face now burned in your mind.

"Maybe be of service. Charlie didn't want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale, which is what I would do. He didn't go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where? Sokovia. He wanted to make a difference, I suppose. I mean we won't know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass."

"What should we have done?" You asked with a scoff, "Should we have. . . oh I don't know. . . not gone to Sokovia at all? Decided not to fight Ultron? Should we have let Ultron lift the island into the sky while we kicked back at Avengers Tower watching Vampire Diaries? I mean what were we supposed to do? Magically stop the buildings from falling over the side of the island while Thor and Steve are already trying to grab people as their cars are falling in mid-air? Tell me what we were supposed to do in that situation Tony?"

Tony slammed his coffee cup down on the table, "There's no decision making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I'm game. If we can't accept limitations, if we're boundary-less, we're no better than the bad guys."

"Tony, when someone dies on your watch, you don't give up." Steve said.

"Who said we're giving up?"

"We are if we're not taking responsibility for our actions. This document just shifts the blame."

"I'm sorry, Steve. That- That is dangerously arrogant. This is the United Nations we're talking about. It's not the World Security Council, it's not S.H.I.E.L.D., it's not HYDRA."

"No, but it's run by people with agendas and agendas change."

"That's good. That's why I'm here. When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down and stopped manufacturing."

"Tony, you chose to do that." Steve argued. "If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose. What if this panel sends us somewhere we don't think we should go? Y/N's right. What if someone gets blackmailed or gets an incentive and they send us to kill their enemies and not ours? What if there is somewhere we need to go and they don't let us? We may not be perfect, but the safest hands are still our own."

"Here, here." Pietro said unexpectedly.

"If we don't do this now, it's going to be done to us later. That's the fact. That won't be pretty." Tony said.

"You're saying they'll come for me." Wanda said and Pietro shot to her side immediately to sit down next to her.

"We would protect you." Vision said softly.

"Maybe Tony's right." Natasha said unexpectedly. "If we have one hand on the wheel, we can still steer. If we take it off-"

"I prefer having both hands on the wheel, thanks." You retorted.

"Aren't you the same woman who told the government to kiss her ass a few years ago?" Sam asked in amazement.

"I'm just reading the terrain." Natasha sighed. "We have made, some very public mistakes. We need to win their trust back."

"Focus up. I'm sorry. Did I just mishear you, or did you agree with me?"

"I want to take it back now." Nat muttered.

"No, no, no you can't retract it." Tony said. You and Pietro rolled your eyes. "Thank you. Unprecedented."

Steve's phone started to ring.

"Okay. Case Closed. I win." Tony said.

"I have to go." Steve said, getting to his feet.

Everyone watched him walk out and you stood up as well.

You looked at Tony. "I will not go against you Tony. But I will not sign this either. I'm an American and I always fight for my freedom. I don't surrender it. So," You tossed your handgun onto the table. "I retire. And I will see all of you later."

And with that, you left the room.

[apricotzel]

here it is, folks! here is every FUTURE laugh that i could find while listening. and even in chronological order with the podcast timeline! (meaning the first clip has a bit of dialogue in it from s5, but i felt in my bones that i had to keep it in. apologies if that bothers you) i am so so normal about this funky little AI (lie)

[elsewhereuniversity]

Why You Should Wear Boots after Picking a Major You Didn’t Want

A university is a place where dreams are thrown away.

Such is the case far too often. It remains Real even between the railroad, highway and train tracks. Even there, people interrogate themselves: ‘This is your dream, but is it realistic? How much is the starting salary? Look at your classmates, elegantly breezing over what you clawed through, tooth and nail. Look at your competitors––’

So many choose to drown their dreams themselves… even though, at Elsewhere University, the dead do not rest quietly. The Wild Hunt is proof of that. Yes, that Wild Hunt, which rides across campus when the fog rolls in. We all know the versions in which they hunt for students unlucky (or unbelieving) enough to be outside when the hounds begin baying. Stay inside, stay quiet, and you’ll be all the better for it, if they ignore you.

What about the other versions, though? What about the versions in which it is best to open your windows and howl back? There are tales like that, too––

Sometimes, those brave enough to shout along with the Wild Hunt will be rewarded with a share of prey or gold. Those kind enough to repair a lost hunter’s sled soon discover this to be the right choice, for upon closer inspection, the hounds are not just hounds. Their bones are laden heavy with wrath.

And sometimes, villagers tell tales of a cloaked rider on a white horse. Horseshoes spark against the night breeze. He will ask you to play an impossible game of tug-of-war. If you are wise, you will tie the other end of the rope to a sturdy oak. The leader of the Hunt likes clever little things. He might even drop a reward in your boot.

Perhaps this is why you see students wearing boots for a while after they declare their majors. Even Magenta (who got her name from always wearing high-heeled loafers of that particular shade) and Ma-Boi-Blanche (who has 17 pairs of white sneakers) wore boots back then. Rumor has it, according to a friend of a roommate of a Forbidden Major, that this footwear will help you abandon your misery.

When the Wild Hunt rides as a group, they come to condemn. The RAs are not wrong in telling you to run for safety when the fog descends.

On the other hand, when the leader of the Hunt appears alone, he comes to test. In this more benign (but not safe, never safe) form, 4% meet a bedraggled man, 2% a king of old, 3% a specimen of demon (the Christian subspecies), 6% a harlequin, and 5% a sledder with a thick Mecklenburg accent.

84% of those who have survived the encounter say that the leader of the Hunt wears a cloak and a wide hat that partially hides his eyes (one of which is duller than the other). He gallops in on a splendid white horse.

95% of those who survived the encounter were wearing boots (one of them was wearing spatterdashes over court shoes, but eh, close enough).

100% of the survivors say that you must be ready to be tested. Be kind, clever, daring. If you are all that––and wary, wise, lucky too––the leader of the Hunt will let you go and stuff something in your boot. A post-it, on which is written the major that they chose, yet hated with every fibre of their being.

Now, put the boot back on and walk. It may be a bit awkward to walk around, what with the paper writhing under your feet, but do so anyway. Every student who has tried it reports that when they got back to their dorms, the paper had vanished from beneath their soles. In its place, they had gained a floating sensation, grafted in their bones.

By the end of the year, Ma-Boi-Blanche and Professor Redd were chattering away like old friends. The Professor had to admit that his student wasn’t very good at dissections, but there was an unmistakable passion for anatomy in his eyes, and he would improve soon. (Very soon, especially with Professor Redd’s talent of acquiring practice bodies, his jaunty hat growing redder with every new specimen.)

On the other side of campus, the law majors learned to listen for the click-clack of high-heeled loafers. Woe betide the unlucky people who faced off against Magenta, who suddenly threw herself into mock trials with gusto. Her opponents gained a Pavlovian fear response to seeing any shade of pink.

This did not go ignored. The Involved went up to the two, in order to warn them.

“The Gentry do not offer things for free,” they said. “And intelligence isn’t cheap. What in Morganwode did you pay?”

To which the ones who met the Huntsman merely laughed, because they weren’t any smarter. The only difference was that now, they were interested in the subjects they found so odious before.

In the old tales, a satisfied rider of the Wild Hunt will reward a human with meat. The person will walk back home in the dark, one shoe on and one shoe off, the boot growing heavier with every step. Once home, they will see that the raw, bloody meat has transformed into gold.

There are a few who still receive this, not always in the payment of gold, but in blessings. (Childe House’s oldest RA is one of them, which explains why the once-every-305-days evacuation has a 100% success rate, even when half a dozen residents don’t understand what a “mandatory house meeting” or a “fire drill” is.)

  Which begs the question: why does the leader of the Hunt help so many?

Rewards are meant to be given to the exceptional few. Yet the unhappy are not part of these few. Given the number of students with newfound rapture in their eyes, one does not need to be exceptionally kind, clever, or daring to transfer their passions. Just wary, wise, and lucky are enough.

When asked, the leader of the Wild Hunt proclaimed that such a spell is child’s play. We’ve already provided the ingredients: two subjects and a passion. The price is low because all he needs to do is to sever the interest from one subject, then attach it to another. Simple work, he said. He would never think of charging so much for something he could do before breakfast. It is not befitting a warrior. Think of it as a favour from a father to his children, he said, then laughs as if there is a joke here that no one else understands.

There are more people who understand than he might think, for the more competent members of the Forbidden Major have another theory. Anyone with passing knowledge of folklore would be able to recognize this person at a glance, they say (quietly, and never to the Huntsman’s face). He is the amalgamation of ghost, fae and old god.

The first rider of the Wild Hunt might be, depending on the amount of fertilizer on the campus lawn and the moon phase, the oldest warrior poet. There are less battlefields for him to watch over now, but still he is song and madness. Still, he is overcome with fury when he sees yet another soldier buckle before the fight has begun.

This child would have made a fine skald. That child could have become a brilliant shield-maiden. This one had the makings of a king, yet they chose to push these futures away, he said through clenched teeth. These children began to think there was nothing left. They started to look at the pond and that single eighth-floor window which could open all the way.

This is not a battlefield, but… to give up before the horn sounds, under his watch?

Unforgivable, he said, with an unblinking smile, all teeth and lone glittering eye. To despair is to slander my hundred names.

So the leader of the Hunt casts a few spells here, a little trickery there, and coaxes the bright frenzy back in their eyes, or so the Forbidden Majors whisper. The price is only low because of who and why he is. He helps them so they can die more valiantly, another day.

  Think of it as a favour from a father to his children, he says, then laughs as if there is a joke here that no one else understands. This is despite the fact that half the Forbidden Majors and a fifth of the Literature Majors know who he is.

(Not that they would reveal that, ever. The all-father’s wrath is a terrible thing.)

  Addendum:

Statistics unavailable for those who encountered the Wild Hunt’s leader alone, while not wearing boots. Mythological references, as well as the Sword-House valet’s intuition, imply it is better not to know.

[Author’s Note]

I did not intend “Why You Should Wear Boots after Picking a Major You Didn’t Want” to be so long. Do pardon me.

There is much debate over the identity of the Wild Hunt’s leader. My personal favourite theory is that the leader is Odin, or some variant of him, which this submission is based on. Still, I couldn’t resist hinting at the others:

“Bedraggled man” = multiple stories, in which the Hunt’s leader is any hunter who preferred hunting to going to church, or else slandered a certain god

“King of old” = Arawn

“Harlequin” = in Vitalis’ Ecclesiastical History Vol. 2 (1140), Hellequin/Herlequin is the herald of a Wild- Hunt-esque procession of tortured souls. There is also King Herla.

“Sledder with a thick Mecklenburg accent” = Frau Gauden

-Louis

[toshiirou]

A favour given is a favour owed - Linkverse Writing

Link was having a Bad Day. Capital letters and all. It warranted such distinction.

For starters, Link was one of many Links. He went by ‘Twilight’, if only to ease their shared communication. This wasn’t necessarily new information to him, being one of many: his own adventure had put him in contact with the Hero’s Shade – a ghost of a former Hero that had taught him everything he knew. While he didn’t know if the shade was yet another ‘Link’, he had resolutely cut off that line of thought as soon as it occurred to him. He couldn’t stick the thought of knowing that such a future awaited one of his current companions.

That wasn’t to say that Twilight was entirely successful in banishing the thought. It stressed him out, in the dead of night, or those quiet moments in between breaths. Twilight had come to care for the other incarnations of the Hero, as oddly self-centred that might seem on paper. Such care didn’t make it any easier to deal with their noise, however.

“Come back here!” Wind, yet another ‘Link’, yelled. Out of all of them he was one of the few that spoke verbally. And boy did he verbalise. Minish – or ‘Mini’, and Twilight had fondly nicknamed him in his head, stuck his tongue out in response. He was truly deserving of the title ‘mini’, standing as the shortest of all the Links. What he lacked in height he made up for with sheer willingness to fight, well, basically anything. Twilight was sure Mini could fight one of the Goddesses themselves and win, bless his heart.

In this case, he had grabbed one of the two pastries their resident pirate had bought for himself from the town they had just left. Twilight had been relishing the peace away from the hustle and bustle from the town centre – loud and crowded as it was – only to be bombarded with the sounds of their argument. He bit his lip, somewhat stressed out. The adventure was grating, not only because they were being thrown about time all willy-nilly, but because Twilight didn’t had a safe space to retreat to any-more. Even on his own harrowing adventure he could retreat to his pitch-black basement whenever it got too much. He gnawed a little more on his lip, flinching at the sound of Wind missing his shot at Mini and face-planting into the dirt.

He jumped at the sound of a loud wail, and turned quickly to see the tail end of Mini stuffing the pastry into his mouth, whole. Goddess help that kid, if he didn’t choke at the rate he was going. Wind was kneeling in the dirt, melodramatic, but without signs of true distresses. Absent-mindedly, Twilight dragged his nails over the back of his hand, trying to ground himself. What he really wanted was somewhere nice, and warm, and pitch-black. Like a blanket fort. The sunlight was bothering him, and the town had put him on edge, and the argument wasn’t helping any. He hadn’t slept well at all, and he was trying very hard not to think of some very distressing thoughts, all the while. Goddesses, he missed Midna.

He kept scratching his hand in distraction, trying to at least pay attention to the others. Sky had come to help Wind off the floor.

Don’t worry, Sky signed. We brought enough for everyone. He smiled, and reached to his belt where a small sack. Upon opening it he revealed a small pile of pastries, really enough for them all twice over.

“Woah!” Wind yelled. Twilight flinched. “Thank you so much, Sky!” He jumped up, all previous signs of upset gone like they hadn’t existed in the first place, and grabbed himself another pastry, which he immediately shoved into his mouth. “Del’shush.” He said, mouth full. Twilight was half convinced he’d bought the second pastry for Mini in the first place, going by how easily the shortest hero had grabbed it.

You can thank Legend, they paid for it. Sky replied.

Wind swallowed hard, struggling a little, and shot Legend a funny look. Twilight had gotten worried for a moment that he hadn’t chewed enough. Gosh the stress of these kids.

It was no problem, Legend signed, coming up next to Sky from where they had been at the back of the group. They’d all been walking until Wind’s yell had stopped them in their tracks.

Mini had gone up to Sky soon after Wind, happily chomping on another pastry. Twilight hadn’t thought he was paying attention to their signed conversation but Mini tugged on Legend’s cloak and gave them a wide smile in thanks. Their teeth was full of mushed up pastry.

Legend, with the patience of a saint, smiled back.

“Looking a little rough there, Mister Hero.” An unexpected voice came from his left, and Twilight felt like he jumped a foot in the air in response. Twilight twisted around to see Ravio, leaning casually against a nearby tree, as if he hadn’t come out of nowhere. Knowing the way their jumps worked, maybe he had, indeed, come out of nowhere.

“Your hand is looking a little rough.”

Twilight looked down, and in surprised noted that Ravio was correct: he had been scratching at his skin the whole time, and it was looking a little raw. He forced himself to stop, biting down on his lip in self-reproach.

“Hey now, Mister Hero. You’ll only cut yourself like that.” Ravio came closer, rummaging in his large white sack. It had the symbol of a rupee on it but seemed to hold everything and anything its owner wanted it to. After rooting around for a moment, he produced a small something. “Here, try this.”

Curious, Twilight took it to see a round, rubber doughnut that was looped at the end of a leather cord, like a charm or pendant. He put it on.

What am I supposed to do with this? He asked.

“You can chew on it!” Ravio replied, enthusiastic. “It’s a Ravio-original! I made it for my Li-iiive in room-mate! Yes, my live-in room-mate. He also has a bit of a problem with sounds and the senses and what-not.”

Curiously, Twilight put it in his mouth and bit down. It was firm, but not too firm. It was perfect. Without thought he started chewing on it in earnest.

How much? He asked, mostly focusing on chewing. It was so satisfying. He never wanted to stop. Ravio could have fleeced him for all he had, and he would have said yes.

“For this? Mister Hero I couldn’t possibly charge you! We all need a little support when life gets a bit too overwhelming, don’t we?” Ravio grinned his patented merchant smile.

Twilight was touched. The outside world wasn’t the easiest for him: he got overwhelmed a lot by all the sights and sounds and noises. Even among the other Link’s who all had similar issues, Twilight sometimes felt like he was lagging behind the rest – he needed more breaks and quiet time and space to unwind. But maybe it wasn’t all bad. There were kind people out there who could support him with his issues, and kindness sometimes came from the least likely of places.

“Although... I wouldn’t mind your share of those delicious looking pastries. I am famished Mister Hero, like you couldn’t believe. Why, I was just in the middle of nowhere! And they look very delicious.”

Aaaand there it was. Twilight laughed, mouth wide and without the self-conscious awareness he usually would posses. His brand new toy dropped from his mouth and caught itself on the leather cord. He gave Ravio a hearty slap to the shoulder.

Never change, he signed, grinned, walking off. They had better get a move on.

“Eh? Mister Hero? Is that’s a yes? Hey! Is that an okay? Speak now or forever- oh wait, sign now! Or forever hold your peace. I’m taking it, it’s mine now. Okay? Okay!”

[manonblaqkbeak]

Worth It

Hello, I’m back for Day 3, a secret relationship. I’m so happy that you guys liked the first prompt, despite the angst lol. This one here isn’t angsty at all, there’s my usual favoured fluff involved, with some Serious Conversations.

Anyway, enjoy!! :)

1.9k words

cw: none

Aelin's mind was buzzing, torn between happiness and nervousness. That was all she could feel ever since the pregnancy test revealed the positive sign over an hour ago and she had just been staring at it since then, wearing nothing but her underwear and one of her favourite hoodies that she had stolen from Rowan long ago.

She and Rowan had talked about children, but had decided that it would be best to have them once things weren't so...complicated. When Aelin would get another job, because all over Rifthold, secretary positions were being offered, but no positions in Rowan's level were being offered.

Because Rowan was her boss, and she was his secretary. And at Havilliard Accounting Firm, office relationships were off the table. If anyone was found out to be in a relationship, it was straight to the HR office for a scolding and a firing; and that the was the absolute last thing that either of them wanted, and since Rowan was her superior, she feared of what would happen to him. Their relationship was equal, there was no manipulation from either side, both of them wanted the relationship and so they decided to be in one.

So Rowan and Aelin dated in secret, keeping their romantic and personal lives out of their professional lives. Which was hard at times, considering that they lived together, and sometimes it was hard to keep a straight face when an unresolved argument was hovering above them, so they had to repeat to themselves about professionalism and boundaries until it was time to go home and fix what problem they were facing at that time.

Aelin hated it, and so did Rowan. It made them feel dirty, like there was something wrong between them, when that was the furthest thing from the truth. When Aelin had first started on the job, she didn't think that she would be with Rowan—honestly, she thought that he was a bit of a bastard, but she got to know him, and found that they had many things in common, and slowly, so slowly, Aelin started to see Rowan in a different light, and when she looked back at that time, she came to the realisation that Rowan had felt the same, that the look he held in his eyes for her were the same as back then.

And once that shared attraction made its appearance, they had fought their feelings for so long, up until a year and a half ago when they had ran into each other at the State Museum on the weekend, had lunch together at the museum cafe and things just went from there.

They made it work, despite the secrecy of it all. Only a few of their friends knew and they promised to keep it to themselves. Absolutely none of the few Whitethorn cousins that worked in the same building knew, as they were complete busybodies and would tell everyone, not at all caring about the circumstances.

None of Aelin's work friends knew either. All they knew was that she was single and not looking for a relationship, that she was focusing on herself before she made any commitments; Rowan had told his work friends something similar.

At first, the secrecy of it all was exciting, like something straight out of the romance novels she adored, but a year and a half later, when they talked about marriage and Aelin had even told him the type of engagement ring she would like, it was becoming tiresome. Aelin just wanted the whole world to know of her love with Rowan, but so far, that was not to be.

Sighing, she wondered back to the now. She supposed she could say that it was the result of a one night stand, but it felt cruel to reduce Rowan to nothing as if was a stranger she fell into bed with and was nothing but a quick fuck after one too many drinks.

Besides, once she had the baby, it would be obvious who the father was. Silver hair and green eyes were dominate in the Whitethorn family, and the chances of her having a silver-haired, green-eyed child was high—it wouldn't take more than two seconds to figure out who the father was, especially if the child inherited Rowan's tanned skin and straight nose.

If the child inherited Aelin's fair skin, her ocean blue eyes, and button nose, however, it might be easier to come up with some story about how someone in Aelin's family had silver hair.

But Aelin didn't want to lie. Didn't want to pass off their child as someone else's.

According to the test, she was seven weeks along, and she was all ready exhausted.

The jingle of keys had Aelin's head snapping up from her seat in the living room, the pregnancy test heavy in her hand.

It was time to tell him. She had to leave work two hours into the day when she was overcome with nausea, and he had kept it professional when he wished her well, but she spotted in the concern in his eyes as he silently asked her if she was okay. Later on, he had texted her, asking if she needed anything from the shops, but she didn't.

Aelin told him she was fine, but now...now she was nervous. Not at all because of Rowan's reaction, but just because of their damned circumstances.

She had never hated the secrecy more until now.

But Aelin made herself smile as he made his way over to her, kissing her on the forehead and asking if she was okay again, once more asking her if she needed him to get her anything. Taking a deep breath, and telling herself that everything would be okay, she clutched the stick in her hand and told him to sit down. He did, his brows furrowed as he looked at her.

Wordlessly, Aelin handed over the test. Rowan took it from her outstretched hand, his eyes wide as he glanced at her, to the test, and then back to her.

“You're pregnant?” he asked, his voice a breathless rush.

Aelin could only nod.

“Fireheart, that's...” he trailed off, Aelin's heart near bursting out of her chest as she waited for his next words, she knew that they'd be positive, but still. Rowan smiled, and it was the most beautiful thing Aelin had ever witnessed. “This is amazing.”

“It is?” The words fell out of her mouth of their own accord. Clearly, she wasn't listening to herself.

Rowan sensed her unease and took her hands in his own, kissing her knuckles as he did. “I know that we've talked about having children later on, but I couldn't be more happy.”

Nodding, Aelin took a deep breath. She was excited too, despite everything. Which was why she said, without a hint of doubt, “I'll hand in my two week notice once I pass the first trimester.”

“Fireheart, I can't ask you to do that,” Rowan said, clutching her hand. “I'll ask for a transfer, and you can stay until you go on maternity leave, and if you still want to quit afterwards and look for work elsewhere, then I'll help you, but you've worked too hard to quit now.”

“Everyone thinks I'm single, Rowan, and I don't want to come up with a horrid about one night stands. We're all ready lying, and I don't want to add more to the pile.”

“The transfer—” Rowan started, but Aelin cut him off.

“You'll just be in a different building, but the company policies will still stand. I know what you're thinking, that in the future I'll resent you and that I'll blame you for making me quit, but I won't. I'm sick of lying, and I know you are too—it's been a year and a half of lies, and with this child are we going to extend that lie for another eighteen years? What if the child is a carbon copy of you? Then all the lies will blow up in our faces. I know you don't think it is, but this is the best option.” Part of her did want to stay, to utilise her maternity leave, but Rowan could be fussy, especially when she wasn't feeling well and if Rowan started fussing over his pregnant secretary then the questions would start flying.

Rowan sighed and was quiet for a long while. “I'm sorry,” he said eventually, “about the lying. I wish it didn't have to be like this. I wish that you didn't think you had to quit, but I understand why.” Again, he hated the whole expandable aspect of it all—but annoyingly, it made more financial sense for Rowan to stay and for Aelin to leave.

Rowan really did hate it, but Aelin had clearly made up her mind, and would not change her mind, she was stubborn.

“I know, but Rowan, I don't regret being with you, not for a moment. I just want to start this journey on a more joyful road. I love you, to whatever end.”

Rowan smiled softly at her, his worries easing away just a little bit at their words—their promise to each other. “To whatever end. We'll figure it out.”

“We will.” Deciding that she wanted to be wrapped in his arms, Aelin snuggled against him, breathing in his pine and snow scent, she was close to drifting off, when Rowan cleared his throat. Glancing up at him, he had a smile on his face, and an unreadable look in his eyes. “What?”

“I suppose now would be a horrible time to propose?”

Sitting back in a blink of an eye, Aelin crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes at him. “Rowan Whitethorn, if you propose to me while I'm wearing this shitty old hoodie, I swear to the gods, I will singe off your eyebrows right now.”

“So that's a no?” He asked, his lips twitching, eyes swimming with barely concealed mirth at her. Her own lips wanted to rise in a smile, but she slammed it down.

“It's a no for now. I want to be wearing a nice dress, eating good food—but not in a crowd, you know I hate crowd proposals—with a pretty view—”

“I thought that I was the pretty view?” Rowan interrupted, laughing at the glare Aelin sent his way.

“And I forgot the rest of what I was going to say, but I am not being proposed to on a sofa.”

“Okay, no sofa proposals, I can remember that.”

“Good,” Aelin muttered and returned to his arms. They spoke of their future, of their baby and a list of potential names.

X X X X X X

Rowan proposed six months later at the beach, three months to the day that she had quit, with work being none the wiser, until recently, and they got off scott-free since Aelin was no longer employed there. The sky was a beautiful canvas of pink and peach, the only sounds the crashing of the waves, with no people around.

The ring was the exact one she had picked out long ago—a sparkly emerald with size of her fingernail on a gold band.

And it was exactly as she wished it, her in a nice sundress, with good food and ever-growing pretty views.

Having a secret relationship for a year and a half was exhausting, but well worth it in the end.

[wangxianficrecs]

Follower Recs

There are nearly FORTY THOUSAND AO3 stories in the MDZS universe, and I am just a single person with limited time, so....  Here’s a bit of y’all doing my work for me!

~*~

Mojo, I know it'd probably be recced before, but I have to recommend stiltonbasket's Twelve Moons and a Fortnight. It has made me squee of cuteness, hold my breath with suspense, marvel over the worldbuilding and character interactions, and just awed me at how well every original piece of lore and HC ties back to canon. I cried over it, only to cry laughing the next chapter. it kept me going through an entire year of lockdown and is finally coming to an end, and the resolution was magnificent.

*[I’m subscribed to this and keep waiting for Part One to be completed, but instead later parts keep getting posted:  is it completed but not marked?  I am confused.  And eager to read!]*

Twelve Moons and a Fortnight

by stiltonbasket (G, 267k, wangxian, WIP)

Summary:  "Let me get this straight. You really want me to stand in for you while you help Jin Ling settle in at Koi Tower?"

"Who else do I have?" Jiang Cheng snaps, ears turning scarlet as Jin Ling tries to pretend he isn't listening. "Father trained you to serve as my deputy, didn't he? And don't say you don't remember, or I'll break your legs."

"Well, yes," Wei Wuxian manages. "Uh. I'll just let Lan Zhan know I'll be at Lotus Pier until you're back at home, then."

Or, the one where Wei Wuxian spends the year before his wedding as Yunmeng Jiang's acting sect leader, and the cultivation world's greatest love story finds its happy ending with the help of three juniors, a teenage romance, and one very involved (and exasperated) younger brother.

~*~

May I recommend fielty by milkpunch a sort of AU where lwj in order to save his sect from being destroyed by nine after wen rouhans assasination goes to work as a guard to Jin zixuan where he meets wwx the right hand of Jin guanguao... ~ @pastashouldbeeatenwithafork

Fealty

by milkpunch (E, 84k, wangxian)

Summary:  Before, there had been two reigning kingdoms. Both claimed to be blessed by the sun, but with vastly differing views. One, under the name of Wen, was washed red with blood and violence, its soldiers fierce and stoked with a fiery blaze. The other, under the name of Jin, was bathed in golden light and glory, its soldiers proud and heavy with coin and prestige. The two kingdoms went to war for the true honour of having the sun’s blessing, fighting for many long years with many lives lost.

Jin Guangshan, emperor of the Golden Sun Palace, found that the sun favoured him more.

To prevent his kingdom from being crushed, Lan Zhan, second heir to the Lan kingdom, exchanges his freedom for that of servitude to the Jin kingdom. He is appointed as Jin Zixuan's personal guard, but there's more on his plate than just keeping the Jin heir safe. The Golden Sun Palace is not all that it seems, and the dazzling lives of the royals are less perfect than they appear.

~*~

Hey, I was wondering if I could rec a fic to you. My bestie wrote it for the Lunar New Year Wangxian gift exchange and it definitely did not receive the attention it deserves. It's a really fun mermaid/arranged marriage au! ~ @leahlisabeth

More Than This Provincial Wife

by ApprenticedMagician (T, 6k, wangxian)

Summary:  The negotiations surrounding the Lan & Jiang alliance through marriage encountered a few snags in the beginning.

~*~

I love your blog! I saw a recent post where you listed some rec's from other people? [Thank you!  And yes, I always appreciate and am happy to share your recs!]  I just read the WIP A Corpse Called By Name jaemyun and LOVED it! It's a zombie apocolypse AU, where Wei Ying gets bitten by a zombie.... and I don't want to spoil anything from there, but it is amazing! No pressure to put it in your blog, but wanted to send a note just in case. Thanks for all you do!

A Corpse Called By Name

by jaemyun (not rated, 37k, wangxian, WIP)

Summary:  A continuation of zombie drabble!

She loses her brother in a hoard of the undead.

She finds a corpse wearing his face in a convenience store.

The corpse calls her name.

~*~

Hi! I was wondering if I could rec this short fic that I recently found and really liked! The narrative is an inner monologue and I think it captures lwj really well :)

binding me in spells (till my heart's devoured)

by gaysgaysgays (G, <1k, wangxian)

Summary:  His scars are a reminder of his hurt, a reminder that he had healed.

(or a study of lan zhan's scars)

~*~

I found a fic I had recently asked you about, so I thought I'd share it with you: Seasons of Falling Flowers by merakily (http://archiveofourown.org/works/28522326). I rediscovered it completely by accident after listening to spinifex's excellent podfic adaptation. This is the fic where Lan Qiren despises Wei Wuxian until Wei Wuxian catches a cold and Lan Qiren find out about his golden core. That part is about 3/4 of the way through. The fic is wonderful and shows a rigid but surprisingly introspective Lan Qiren. ~ @clmoryel [Oh!  I just read this one yesterday!  Here’s my bookmark.]

Seasons of Falling Flowers

by merakily (G, 40k, wangxian, lan qiren & wei wuxian, podfic)

Summary:  Like a parasite, Wei Wuxian has this way of growing on people when you least expect it.

Over the seasons, Lan Qiren slowly pieces back together his relationship with Wangji and learns to like Wei Wuxian in the process.

(“Will you rejoin your sect?” As soon as the words leave his mouth, Lan Qiren regrets his wording.

He is not surprised when Wangji’s eyes narrow, flashing with offence. “There is no need to rejoin what one has never left. I did not turn my back on my sect. My sect turned their backs on me.”)

~*~

Hi! Can I rec a fic? "bring you home" by Alasse_Irena on AO3 is a modern AU and is one of the most beautiful and atmospheric fics I have read. Thanks for you work running this blog! I have new Wangxian fics to read <3

bring you home

by Alasse_Irena (T, 28k, wangxian)

Summary:  Wei Ying rents a run-down cottage in a small town by the sea, looking for a quiet place to hide after the war.

Lan Zhan has always dreamed of the ocean. He returns to the town where he was born, and where his parents died, to find out why.

Instead, they find each other.

~*~

Good morning lady mojo, I hope you’re having a good day! I wanted to rec a fic, Breathing Firestorm by ladyshadowdrake. It’s 111k and great but barely has any love, which is unfair. You mentioned it in the last ‘in a mood for’ post but I think it should have more of a shoutout because it’s a lot of fun and I liked it a lot. Have a great day ♥️  [Oh!  I was subscribed to this one and saw it had been recently finished.  It’s def. on my list!]

Breathing Firestorm

by ladyshadowdrake (M, 111k, wangxian)

Summary:  After years of a mad quest, Wen Ruohan is finally given proof of a powerful creature living among mortals. He is delighted to find that it truly believes itself to be only a boy named “Wei Wuxian.”

While Wen Ruohan tries to unlock Wei Wuxian’s secret, the sects unite against him. If he can achieve his goal before they arrive, even the combined might of the cultivation world would not be enough to humble him. Meanwhile, Lan Wangji dreams of Wei Wuxian in the Cold Pond Cave, and works tirelessly to rescue him from Wen Ruohan’s clutches. No one is prepared for what awaits the allied sects in Nightless City at the conclusion of the war, and it very well might mean the end of the world as they know it.

~*~

Hi Mojo, firstly thank you for all the hard work you put into running this blog, I’ve found so many fics that I probably would have never come across if it wasn’t for your fic finders posts and your personal review posts.  [Aw, thank you!]

I don’t know if you’ve read this fic before or if it’s been mentioned before on your blog (I’ve done a quick search of your blog and couldn’t see it, so if I’ve missed it I apologise!) but if you’ve got a fic rec post coming up, I would suggest “The shapes a bright container can contain” by litbynosun.

It’s a case fic about 16k words long and set after canon. Whilst it’s not the main focus of the story it does delve slightly into chronic illness of wwx (the ailments of mxy’s body) and lwj (his continuous treatment of his scars) which might cover a few requests in the IITMF posts in future.

Thanks again for all the hard work you do! ~ @dulachodladh

the shapes a bright container can contain

by litbynosun

M, 17k, wangxian

Summary:  "Lan Zhan, look at this," Wei Wuxian calls. "They don't have organs, but they're all… fuzzy."

He gently strokes the corpse's arm -- it's covered in soft, pigmentless downy hair, like a rabbit. Lan Wangji crouches next to him and nods. "Lanugo," he says. Wei Wuxian raises one eyebrow. "They were malnourished for quite a while before death," Lan Wangji elaborates. Wei Wuxian scans the bodies again. Indeed, they both have sunken cheeks, and their abdomens are empty of both organs and fat padding. “That’s a question,” he says. “Did they starve to death, and have their bodies desecrated after they were already deceased? Or were they murdered, and simply starving at the same time?” "We should stay," Lan Wangji tells him. This is not an answer to his question. It is an offer to search for answers.

Or: Wei Wuxian and his family solve a ghost haunting. Wei Wuxain's old enemy, societal injustice, rears its head again.

[beeexx]

Season 1 snippets from Ivan and Fedyor’s point of view. - Loving in a time of war.

Read here After the Fjerdans’ attack, for a moment the world lay completely still around them.

The peaceful moment is interrupted by Ivan’s own harsh breathing, the painful beating of his heart inside his ribcage bringing with it a sense of panic threatening to expand with each breath he takes. The fear comes unbidden, visceral and overpowering to his senses. He can only feel that for a moment, gripping his heart, worry seeping into his bones making him stumble.

But as soon as it’s come he forces himself to shake it off, training and experience taking over as he slows down his own heart to get his bearings back. The world clears around him and silence fills his ears as he calms. 

The silence around him doesn’t offer him any comfort though.

But with the stillness Ivan finds what he’s looking for easily enough, picks out his heartbeat among the other ones as soon as he’s calmed down enough to think. Fedyor’s standing by himself, a little away from everyone else, dusting off his kefta, trying to hide his shaking hands. Ivan doesn’t waste time frowning, he hurries towards him and Fedyor looks up before he’s made it all the way across. His mouth opens but Ivan cuts him off with an ice cold glare. 

“Do not say you are fine.” His words are harsh but his touch is gentle as he reaches for his husband and cups his face so he can take a better look. Fedyor doesn’t say anything, he lets himself be looked over without a word. Ivan gently traces patterns into his skin that’s covered in a thin sheet of sweat and dirt, his hair tousled from the fight. There is a smudge of mud across his cheek and a bruise is already forming underneath one of his eyes from the fall but his heart is beating steadily and Ivan exhales, finally feeling like himself again.

“I am alright.” Fedyor promises. His voice does not shake and if it were anyone else, well Ivan would barely spare them a second look, but he would have believed them. Fedyor is almost as good as Ivan is to mask his pain when he wants to, but only almost. They’ve been together long enough for Ivan to know he’s shaken up. Ivan doesn’t say anything, just moves one hand away from his face to gently wrap around his hand that’s still trembling slightly and angles his body so that no one can see. Something flickers across Fedyor’s face, fear, pain, before he closes his eyes and leans forward, resting his head on Ivan’s.

“You’re alright.” Ivan whispers back and Fedyor exhales. Their breathing syncs up like it does when they are close, his blood singing from the close contact to the other, and Ivan allows himself a moment of standing here, holding his husband in his arms.

He is a private guy by nature, but still deeply proud of his relationship with Fedyor, it’s the stares and looks they have always gotten that makes his skin crawl in discomfort which has contributed to why his walls are always up around others. So he tends to keep his more open and private side to when he is alone with Fedyor. But Fedyor needs this, hell Ivan needs this, to be close to him again, because while he is unfazed by little these days, a symptom of serving in the army for so long, he is fazed by Fedyor getting shot. They are both soldiers and it comes with risks and pain they have both accepted somewhat, and they might be wearing bulletproof keftas but seeing Fedyor hurt is not something he will ever get used to. 

Fedyor’s fingers have wrapped around Ivan’s wrist, feeling out the pulse just underneath. His hands have stopped shaking so Ivan dares to step away. Before he does he places a delicate kiss on Fedyor’s forehead. It makes Fedyor smile, it’s small but it’s genuine and some of the shadows hovering over his face grow smaller. 

“There you are.” But Ivan smiles, a little relieved too.

“Yes you are not getting rid of me this easily beloved.” 

“Good.” Ivan breaths harshly through his nose, can’t fully tamper down the relief and worry mixing together like a bad cocktail. Fedyor intertwines their hands placing a kiss on his palm as they join the others.

It makes Ivan smile.

…..

The ride back is long, the day spent in the war room of the Little Palace is longer. He had reluctantly parted with Fedyor hours ago, they were soldiers above all else and had different duties to attend to, as much as it sometimes weighed on Ivan he was here to serve. The meeting had dragged on and Ivan had concealed his wariness behind a scowl but even he couldn’t keep it up forever. 

It was well past midnight when he made it back to his and Fedyor’s quarters. The lights had been dimmed low, the corridor deserted. Ivan expects their room to be dark but is surprised to find the lights have been left on, casting the room in a dimly lit golden hue as he enters, making sure to close the door quietly behind him. He leaves his boots by the door, putting them down by Fedyor’s. He adjusts the left boot of Fedyor’s so it stands exactly right before he walks inside. He is dirty from the altercation in the woods and the riding but he’s itching a little desperately now to get into bed with Fedyor’s, almost willing to leave everything else for tomorrow. But he compromises by washing his hands and face, before he disposes of the kefta and undershirt he’s been wearing all day. Ivan fondly rolls his eyes when he spots Fedyor’s one laying across the back of a chair instead of on the hanger where they tend to keep them. He huffs but ignores it in favour of washing his arms and body hastily in the wash basin. He towels himself dry and then makes his way over to their four poster bed with fluffy pillows and mattress so soft even Ivan struggles to leave it in the morning. Being higher ups in the second army had its perks and weeks away sleeping in tents and on the road made him long for this bed more than he ever wanted to admit. It smells faintly of lavender, just like he’s remembered. Fedyor is asleep on his side, a pale shoulder dotted with freckles peeking out from underneath the duvet, one hand wrapped around Ivan’s pillow so tightly Ivan has to ply his fingers open to be able to get in beside him. Fedyor blinks his eyes open, confusing evident before they clear almost immediately and he smiles.

“Ivan.” 

“Yes, sorry the meeting dragged on.” He pushes the pillow against the bedpost before he slides in beside Fedyor who scoots closer immediately, hand landing on Ivan's heart to rest there.

“Yes I assumed. I was trying to stay awake but you were very late.” His mouth twitches and Ivan huffs. 

“How are you?” Ivan asks, gently cups his face and angles it a little towards the light.

“Why didn’t you go to a healer?” He frowns and spikes of anger push through to the surface as he spots the angry bruise still under his eyes. Fedyor’s eyes widen and he touches his face gingerly before he shrugs helplessly.

“I forgot.” 

It is very much a Fedyor thing to do, he cares too much about other people than what he does about himself sometimes and it gives Ivan headaches for days when it happens, but right now he’s too tired to argue about it so he huffs instead before he puts his fingertips against Fedyor’s warm skin and heals it himself. Fedyor smiles through it, his eyes twitching a little at the sensation before the skin is smooth and pale once again. 

“Much better.”

Fedyor rolls his eyes.

“It was just a bruise.”

“It was a reminder of something ugly.” Ivan says through gritted teeth and Fedyor’s eyes soften before he nods.

“I am okay.” He says again, like if he says it enough he will convince them both it’s true. Ivan can’t just quite figure out who he is trying to convince more.

“Fedyor-“

“How was the meeting?” 

Ivan moves onto his back, heaves out a sigh and shrugs. Fedyor watches intently on his side, fingers tracing gentle patterns across Ivan’s chest, probably trying to distract him from answering. 

“Long.” 

“Too long?”

Ivan nods. 

“The Fjerdans are growing bolder, it doesn’t bode well for the future.”

“But we have the sun summoner now.” 

There are many things Ivan could say to that, but he is so tired and there is a part of him that can’t bring himself to quench the light in Fedyor’s eyes. His husband is in now way naive or foolish, he’s seen enough bad things to last a lifetime, and yet he still smiles so effortlessly, still laughs like he will continue doing it for years to come, makes friends so easily it is ridiculous and loves freely and openly. He is hopeful in a world that is tarnished by wars and Ivan is not going to chide him for his optimism. He thought it was a weakness a long time ago, but he’s learnt it’s a strength, a strength so unwavering Ivan could never begin to compete with it. He gave up a long time ago.

So he smiles instead and nods, wanting to believe so easily like Fedyor does that Alina Starkov is the key to the future.

“We do.”

Fedyor huffs and rolls his eyes, gently swats Ivan, seeing through him immediately.

“Have a little faith love.”

“I have faith.” Ivan defends.

“You cannot lie to me you know.” Fedyor smirks and Ivan huffs, turns on his side so their noses are brushing against one another.

“I have faith in the things I can see, that I know to be real.” He begins and Fedyor’s smirk grows softer. “I have a lot of faith in you.” He says softly, bumping his nose against Fedyor’s who scrunches it up adorably. “I have faith that I am your husband, the way your heart beats like a beacon in a stormy sea and that tomorrow will come and you will complain that there is no honey to put in your porridge for breakfast like you do every other morning.” He teases and Fedyor laughs.

“You are a romantic beneath all that scowling.”

“Only for you my love.” Ivan kisses the promise of that onto Fedyor’s lips and he exhales against them, Fedyor’s hand coming to rest on the back of Ivan’s neck, to angle his head a little better. It grows heated too quickly and Fedyor chases after his lips when Ivan draws back. 

“I have faith that you are also predictable.” He teases and Fedyor rolls his eyes and flops down, cheeks red and heart thumping away, music to Ivan’s ears. 

“That is very rude of you.” Fedyor jokes and Ivan takes pity on him. He places a gentle kiss on his mouth and lingers a little longer than what he had planned.

“Tomorrow.” He promises. 

“Are you saying you’re getting too old for some late night fooling around?”

Ivan scoffs and Fedyor bursts out laughing at his affronted expression. 

“I was not saying any of that.”

“That was what I heard.”

“Then maybe I should take you to a healer to get your hearing checked out.” Ivan lifts an eyebrow and Fedyor chuckles. 

“My hearing is fine. Come on.” Fedyor shuffles and Ivan huffs at his impatientness before he moves the pillow more comfortably behind his head and lifts his arm up so Fedyor can get closer. His husband is predictable but Ivan will never tire of having him sleep on top of him, military tents often aren’t big enough for spooning, not even when you are the second to the General. Fedyor settles after a while, his hand coming back to rest on Ivan’s chest, tracing patterns and chuckling delightfully when goosebumps erupts across his skin. Ivan places a kiss on top of his brown mop of hair that smells like citrus and mint, like the bottle that stands near their bathtub, it smells like home to him. 

“Goodnight my love.” Fedyor whispers.

“Goodnight.” 

Ivan feels it when Fedyor dozes off, his fingers still their task slowly and that’s an indicator, but he feels it with how his heart slows down and how his body goes slack on top of his before puffs of air is softly breathed out on his skin in a steady rhythm. It takes Ivan some time to fall asleep, but he feels more sated than he has in weeks on the road. Their shared room has a special meaning to him, the place where he found love, so he breathes easier here than he does anywhere else because he feels safe. 

And he feels like he’s home.

[artificialqueens]

Something More (Taywhora) - pureCAMP

A/N - Hi Ortega, love you xx

Here’s a cheeky little girl band au in which A'Whora is sort of in love with her bandmate, Lawrence is sort of in love with her makeup artist, and Bimini has no idea what’s going on. Enjoy, bing bang bong <3

Death by a thousand cuts lingers on A’Whora’s mind. There seems to be a million ways to express how she’s feeling; the straw that broke the camel’s back, the final tipping point. The way that little things just build and build and build until their crushing weight is suddenly made noticeable to the poor fool trapped beneath them, already without any hope of survival.

Maybe she’s being dramatic, maybe poetic. Maybe that’s why she’s good at writing lyrics, why she scribbles them down in glittery notebooks that Lawrence makes fun of her for buying. They can hardly use what she writes in her free time, the need for fun, relatable and light-hearted lyrics far outweighing the demand for her emotional ramblings, but nevertheless she’s still alright at it.

More than anything, it’s the numbness that bothers her. This pain isn’t jarring, soul destroying, artistically tragic like she wishes it was. She mostly feels an ever-present nothing, with the occasional empty hole like a vacuum in her stomach that weighs on her late at night, alone in bed. The feeling is heavy and cold, but she can’t describe it any better than that. She’s tried, and the scrunched up paper and furiously crossed out words provide more than enough explanation as to how that endeavour went.

Is she ridiculous to be angry over wanting a little communication, knowing she herself hasn’t done it either? Is she hypocritical for internally begging Tayce to explain when she knows full well she’s not explained her side?

Whatever the answer, she’s an idiot for hooking up with her bandmate.

Sighing frustratedly, she throws her pencil across the room, likely to never be seen again, and shuts her notebook. The pencil flies through the air and hits the wall just as Lawrence enters, missing her head by mere centimetres. She reels backwards out of shock and then clings onto the doorframe, one hand on her heaving chest.

“Fuck me! You trying to kill me or something?” Lawrence demands, her expressions every bit as big and blown up as they are on stage.

A’Whora flops onto her bed as Lawrence sits on hers - they’re sharing the hotel room, Tayce and Bimini paired up across the hall.

“Not you, babes.” She rolls her eyes at herself, stretching her legs out as her head crashes into the pillow.

Lawrence snorts. “Trouble in paradise?”

“It’s far from fucking paradise and you know it, you nasty bitch.” A’Whora shoots back, relieved that neither of them are stupid enough to interpret any malice in the harsh way they speak to one another.

Truth be told, A’Whora and Tayce’s hooking up is probably the worst kept secret in all their band management. Tayce seems to think nobody knows, and she’s all the happier for it, but A’Whora knows for a fact that Lawrence, the entire style team and their management all know what’s going on - it’s really only Bimini, bless her, who’s in the dark about it. The second worst kept secret is Lawrence and their makeup artist, Ellie, but that’s the farthest from A’Whora’s mind currently.

“It used to be fun, you know what I mean, like? Like it’s just me and Tayce and we’re having a good time and everything, there’s no pressure for dating or nothing like that, ‘cause she weren’t ready for it.”

Lawrence blinks. “Am I supposed to be sensing a problem here, or?”

A’Whora groans. “Shut up, bitch, I’m trying to do a fucking monologue for you! Anyway, it’s just weird because I swear like I haven’t done anything and nothing’s changed at all but her texts are really friendly rather than like flirty now?”

“And you haven’t sent me off to Ellie’s room in a while so the two of you can fuck like rabbits.” Lawrence finishes, a sly grin on her face knowing that she’s just pissed A’Whora right off by interrupting the aforementioned monologue.

Crude as she is, she’s right - and A’Whora probably would’ve worded it in a way more disgusting manner herself. It’s a decent system that they’ve rigged up, honestly. Whenever Tayce texts, or A’Whora texts her, she sends Lawrence off to go find Ellie, makes up some lie about why their bandmate isn’t sleeping in their room tonight, and then they can spend some quality time together. It’s simple but efficient, hence its brilliance.

“Sorry babes. You know you can still go see her even if I’m not seeing Tayce?”

Lawrence snorts. “Nah, you’re fine. To be honest she’s fucked me right off recently so I’m not in the mood to see her.”

It’s horrible, but A’Whora’s secretly glad that she’s not the only one entangled in some kind of romantic or sexual turmoil. “Aw, what did she do?”

“None of your business, you nosy bitch!” Lawrence half-yells, but bizarrely, she’s still not mad. “You were ranting about your secret lover?”

“Fuck off,” She shoots back, “I was done, anyway. She’s just, like, reset. I don’t get it.”

She’s not strong enough to confide what she really thinks. It clouds her mind constantly, a small part of her brain daring her to just come out and say it in the malicious hope that she’ll find out how it feels to broadcast. Her stupid, selfish brain is worried that Tayce has met someone, someone she likes, someone she’d be willing to, or interested in, pursuing a romantic relationship with. Because romance has never been part of their deal, something they’d agreed on. Romance was off the table for Tayce because she wasn’t ready, and A’Whora was fine with that.

Maybe she was in the wrong for going along with the hook ups and flirting under false pretences. A’Whora had hoped, secretly, that over time, Tayce’s aversion to love and commitment might begin to soften, and surely the most natural, safe way to ease into it would be with someone who she already knew could have a fun flirty rapport with her, not to mention a metric fuckton of sexual chemistry?

Behind every flirty text held the secret hope that Tayce’s feelings would one day find the strength to break out. A’Whora hadn’t meant to get attached to her bandmate like she had, but there seemed to be fuck all she could do about it now.

“Well,” Lawrence announces, rolling onto her back and gesturing up in the air with her arms, “You’re fucked off, I’m fucked off, I say we go and get absolutely steamin’ and forget that we’ve ever felt a positive emotion towards someone who doesn’t give a fuck.”

A’Whora closes her eyes, heart sinking. “I’d actually love to, but we can’t just go the two of us, because then we’re leaving out the others. Bims’ll wanna come, and if Bims comes we have to invite Tayce and I literally don’t wanna see her because it’s so weird that I’ve been like, demoted to friend.”

“She removed the benefits,” Lawrence nods understandingly, “In many ways, we could compare her to the Tory government.”

“Could we fuck,” A’Whora laughs in spite of her own heavy misery. “You’re literally insane. Loz, what the fuck do I do about this?”

Lawrence shrugs. “I told you, my best solution is to go and get smashed! If we just drink here then we didn’t go out without anyone so we didn’t break any friend rules and they’re none the fucking wiser to our collective romance issues.”

The word romance makes A’Whora tense - it’s uncomfortable to think about it like that, almost embarrassing to dwell on her own feelings as having a romantic nature about them from a purely sexual relationship. Luckily for her, a sneaky or perhaps Freudian slip catches her attention and drags it away from her own issue, A’Whora bolting upright to stare at her friend.

“Lawrence Chaney. Did you just say collective romance issues? I thought you and Ellie were just fanny friends!”

Understandably, Lawrence is horrified at her turn of phrase, but A’Whora doesn’t miss the telltale reddening of her ears that suggests she’s said something she shouldn’t have. An eye-roll powerful enough to induce a tsunami follows Lawrence shifting herself up, glaring at A’Whora, and then scowling.

“First,” She replies, one finger wagging in front of her, “Never fucking say fanny friends ever again. Second…”

A’Whora gasps, already anticipating some gossip.

“You’re gonna get me a fucking gin if you’re gonna make me talk about this.”

-

More intelligent girls, or perhaps just less heartache-y ones, would know better than to get wasted in their hotel room the night before a show, but A’Whora and Lawrenced have never been the best at smart decisions. Ironically, it’s the deceptively smart bimbo Bimini who usually is able to reign them in, though she often chooses not to. Left to their own devices, there’s a lot of gin and a little bit of lemonade that seems to mysteriously disappear as tongues get looser and inhibitions get lowered. Before they even know what’s happening, both girls are sitting on the floor between their beds, legs stretched out before them, bemoaning their woeful, humiliating love lives.

It’s almost as if they think that if they don’t get it right now, they never will. To some extent, in A’Whora’s mind, that’s true, even when she knows, realistically, that she’s only in her mid-twenties and life goes on. But really, what is love if not an agony freezing you in time, a force that makes the past a mere blur and the future non-existent? Love is present and now, and if she misses her chance, who says there’ll be another?

(Almost everyone says there will. But A’Whora is drunk and her words are happy and her mind is sad.)

Luckily, Lawrence has been talking for long enough that A’Whora doesn’t have to spill all her thoughts into a drunken spiel that she knows wouldn’t make a lick of sense. She keeps swearing and avoiding the point, but somewhere in her long-winded ramble confessions start to unravel themselves, and a good scandal is enough to distract her for the time being.

“So I fuckin’ - aw fuck, hen, do me a favour and refill me?” Lawrence asks, A’Whora just passing her the bottle and gesturing for her to continue. “I fuckin’ asked her, y’know, are we just doing this or are we something more, like, fuckin’ stupid thing to ask honestly and I regretted it as soon as I did but then she answered and fuck me.”

She makes an effort to impersonate Ellie - a slightly higher pitched, slightly less intensely Scottish accent with something of a mockingly nervous whine to it as she repeats, “I’m keeping my options open. Fuckin’ options! I’ve no’ had anyone since her and I wouldny’ fuckin’ want to either and she’s fuckin’ got A, B, C or D all the fuckin’ above! It’s fucked.”

A’Whora gasps. “Bitch, you proper like her! You like Ellie!”

“Say that any louder and I’ll box your fuckin’ ears,” Lawrence threatens, only half kidding judging by the glare in her eyes. “Am I wrong to feel fuckin’ betrayed that I didn’t know she was seeing others as well as me?”

She snorts. “Loz, babes, I’m losing my mind at the very idea that Tayce has found someone, look who you’re talking to.”

Lawrence shrugs in agreement. “Makes me feel sick.”

There’s a pause. “Actually, that might be the gin.”

Another pause. “Oh, it’s the gin.”

She all but launches herself up and towards the bathroom, A’Whora instantly going into a flap. If Lawrence is sick on the carpet she’ll literally never forgive her, but she needs to help her friend, but fuck if she’s gonna stand there in the bathroom gagging at her. She decides, vaguely last minute, to run out into the corridor and grab some cold water from the machine, panicking and shouting her plan in the general direction of the bathroom before dashing outside. Embarrassing, but at twenty five years old A’Whora still can’t handle someone being sick.

A brief but unwelcome thought flits into her head - I’d help Tayce. She shakes it away, tells herself she wouldn’t, but a sad stupid part of her knows she could sit there and painfully gag her way through helping Tayce if she needed to, because she’s a spineless idiot who fell for her bandmate. There’s a flash of guilt for the fact that she wouldn’t do the same for Bims or Lawrence, but reasons that she has to draw the line somewhere.

The hotel has this awful chintzy carpet, a weird swirly print on a red base that reminds A’Whora of weird-smelling care homes and outdated grandma’s houses. Just looking at it makes her head spin uncomfortably - maybe she’s a little drunker than she thought. Perhaps she’ll get two cups of ice water instead, sober herself up a bit and all.

Then Tayce is standing in front of her all of a sudden and A’Whora has no idea how she’s got there.

(Did she… summon Tayce? Manifest her presence?)

“Girl, you alright? You look a state,” She greets, her accent charming enough to rid the words of their potential offense.

A’Whora vaguely points ahead of her, aware of how dumb she probably looks. “Goin… getting water for Loz. She’s absolutely pissed.”

Tayce laughs, baffled. “Babes, what are you playing at getting drunk the night before a show? Gotta make sure you shake off the hangovers before or else you’re done for!”

“Water fixes all.” A’Whora has no idea what to say. Why would she? She’s been lamenting this girl’s very existence for the past…. God knows how many hours, and now she’s here and she has to slip the besties facade back on except she’s a bit too drunk to remember how to do it properly. Sober A’Whora is going to cringe for days over this, she already knows.

Unsurprisingly, Tayce starts to follow her to grab the water, declaring “Well I’m coming with you, sounds like you’re gonna need someone sober to put you both in bed, you absolute lunatics.”

They’re just walking next to each other and yet A’Whora has never analysed her own way of walking so much in her life before this moment. Are her steps too large? Her arms swinging too much, or too little? Which foot comes next? Is Tayce thinking about how weirdly she’s moving? Should she be trying to keep pace with her or will that be even weirder and she’ll realise what a creep she’s been hooking up with all this time and fully decide against any possibility of something more between them?

They’re just walking. Just one foot and then the next.

Ahead of them, the water cooler glistens like a mirage in a desert, a tantalising goal signalling the end of their journey. A’Whora almost feels like she’s been trekking for hours next to Tayce, unsure of what to say, unsure of what her own act to keep up with is.

Naturally, she fumbles in her attempt to get a flimsy plastic cup from the stack, and then all come crashing down before she can even realise what’s happening. She turns to look at Tayce, the both of them momentarily stunned.

“Oh my god, you absolute beast!” Tayce screeches, her voice hushed for the sake of the late night but laughing all the same, clutching the cooler for balance. “We gotta pick all these up now!”

They do; A’Whora thinks about accidentally brushing her fingers over Tayce’s as they scramble to get everything, and then doesn’t. She thinks about abandoning the water and fumbling keys into locks until they fall into one another and forget everything else. She thinks about just blurting out the truth.

By the time all of the potential scenarios have flown dizzyingly through A’Whora’s drunk mind, she finds herself with two cups of water in her hands, Tayce with the same, leading her back to the hotel room and giggling as she instructs her not to spill a drop. A’Whora laughs, pretending like she’s not struggling to figure out how tightly she should be holding them.

Pretend is easy and she’s always been good at it. Pretending she’s a real rockstar with her Sing Star microphone and Playstation 2 in the living room. Pretending she’s not nervous the day before the biggest audition of her life. Pretending she’s a real musician in a band and not one of four girls shitting themselves backstage at the biggest arenas in the city. Pretending like Tayce might fall for her one day.

Once they get inside - it takes four swipes of A’Whora’s key and brief panic that she’s somehow got the wrong one - it’s clear that Lawrence is done with throwing her guts up and has settled herself in a chair, furiously typing on her phone.

“This room smells like a minibar, you hounds!” Tayce half admonishes, her grin entirely downplaying her words and making A’Whora’s heartbeat jump into overdrive. “Lawrence, what are you doing?”

“Communicating-my-feelings,” She answers through gritted teeth, each word punctuated with a particularly aggressive stab at her screen.

Out of curiosity, A’Whora peeks at the screen, and upon seeing a horrifically large wall of text typed out in the chat box with no end in sight, snatches the phone immediately. “Tayce! Hide it! She’s writing a fucking essay!”

Whether A’Whora’s drunk coordination is better than when she’s sober - hopefully not - or Tayce is just talented, she deftly catches the device and locks it.

Lawrence all but springs up, incensed. “Fuck off with that! Ellie needs to know- I’m fucking pissed!”

“Ellie?” Tayce pauses, looking down as if she’ll still see the message. “As in, makeup artist Ellie?”

“Who fuckin’ else?!” Lawrence lunges and misses.

“Knew it.” She’s adorably smug, so much so that A’Whora decides against telling her that literally everyone knows. Her perceived victory makes her face light up and she’s already so beautiful that ruining childlike glee like that should be considered blasphemous. It would be a sin to wipe that smile from her face using anything other than her lips.

She holds the phone up in the air above her head, unreachable. “Right. Well, Lawrence, you can have this back after you’ve drank this water here, brushed your teeth and got into bed, okay? I think that’s a fair deal.”

“Get fucked,” Lawrence responds, totally deadpan as she snatches the plastic cup, spilling half of it down her front and not noticing. “I will drink your magic water and then you will fuck off and I will tell Ellie that she’s a slimey wee bitch.”

Tayce laughs, unfazed. “On second thoughts, darling…” She tucks the phone into her bra and gives a little flourish. “Sort yourself out and I’ll get it back to you in the morning. I’m not having you abusing our lovely Ellie ‘cause you’ve had a lover’s tiff.”

Lawrence squints. “Fuckin’… A’Whora will get it for me. I’m sure you won’t mind feeling her up, eh hen? Though I bet your girlfriend might have something to say about it. OOP!”

A’Whora feels her face flushing, and the panic slams into her like a wave hitting the beach full force, washing over everything. At first she was glad Lawrence was drunker than her, hoping to make less of a fool of herself in front of Tayce and direct the attention onto their favourite Scottish menace, but Lawrence being drunker means Lawrence with an even looser tongue, and for someone who loves to crack a joke and make a cheeky observation at the most inopportune moment, A’Whora finds herself wishing she’s passed out snoring instead. Tayce just laughs and manages to mother hen her into the bathroom, where A’Whora spots her in the mirror, grumpily brushing her teeth like a petulant toddler in the midst of a tantrum.

“Tell you what, I could never have kids, this is bloody exhausting!” Tayce explains, her big bright smile distracting A’Whora, thankfully, from the bulge of Lawrence’s phone. At least, it’s easier to pretend, even mentally, that that’s why she keeps looking at her chest.

“God, I know!” She laughs back, faking it harder than ever and sipping her cup of water. She feels sobered up already, though she’s sure she’s probably not, all too aware of her red cheeks and Lawrence’s loose tongue and terrified something else will be said.

“I mean, what on earth was that? I don’t have a girlfriend, I can tell you that.” She chuckles as if the idea’s ridiculous. A’Whora wonders if she genuinely thinks that, if she doesn’t realise just how many beautiful men and women would fall down at her feet if she so much as paid them a glance.

Lawrence stumbles out; in the two minutes she’s been gone, she seems to have forgotten entirely about her phone, and she looks at the pair with lidded eyes. “Fuckin’ shattered, girls.”

Tayce beams at her. “Get your arse in bed, then!”

A’Whora finishes her water, and Lawrence is asleep in seconds. For good measure, they poke her a couple of times, but since she’s very clearly breathing and seems fine, they decide to stop tormenting her and to just let the poor girl sleep. Tayce sets down Lawrence’s phone on the nightstand next to her, making sure to plug in her charger so it won’t be dead when she wakes up, and the tiny act of thoughtfulness makes A’Whora’s heart swell in a manner she’s wholly embarrassed of.

As if she’s swooning at a girl charging her friend’s phone? It’s ridiculous and she knows it.

“Shall I walk you to your door?” She offers, holding her arm out. Tayce laughs and takes hold of her elbow, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“Ooh, promenade!”

“You’ve been watching far too much Bridgerton, you have,” A’Whora teases her, jabbing her side as they make their way back down the empty corridor. “Do I have to start calling you My Lady or something, babes?”

Tayce swats her away. “In bed, maybe. Oh, I’ll happily be a Duke or a Duchess, I mean have you seen the pair of them? Bloody gorgeous!”

A’Whora’s chest seizes up at the casual mention of being in bed together. Is the stalemate over? Is Tayce about to explain why she’s suddenly frozen on her and decided she no longer wants to hook up? What the hell even is the reason if there’s no girlfriend? She’s just gone off A’Whora now?

“Oh my God. Tayce, I can’t do this.”

It’s out there. She can’t go back now, can’t reel it back in. She’s fucked.

Tayce stops mid-hallway and frowns, worried. “You alright? If you don’t feel well you can go back, you don’t have to walk me to my room.”

“No, not that,” A’Whora massages her temples, trying to encourage some kind of eloquent thought to help her out, trying to stimulate the part of her brain that writes lyrics, to no avail. “This, us, the weirdness, I can’t do it. I have to know what’s going on, I’m literally going spare over it.”

“I don’t- I don’t get what you mean.”

“Us!” A’Whora cries, then shushes herself, acutely aware of her volume and the people sleeping adjacent to their conversation. “You- you don’t text me the same, and we haven’t- in ages, and I just… Tayce, do you like me?”

Tayce frowns even deeper. “Of course I like you, Rory.”

“Do you proper like me? Do you like me like I like you?”

She feels like a child, enacting a schoolgirl crush with a scribbled note that asks them to tick a yes or no box drawn in pink felt tip, the kind fuzzy from little fingers pressing too hard. If anything, it’s worse than that; at least some prior planning went into those, and a clear question with a yes or no response indicating some kind of confidence. A’Whora has no idea what she’s doing, where she’s going, anything.

“Rory… do you-”

A’Whora cuts her off. “Lawrence thought you might have a girlfriend because I thought you might have one because I was ranting about us to her and how shit I feel that you’ve lost interest in me. We got drunk to ignore how shit we both feel and it didn’t work because she almost blabbed to Ells and now I’m here blabbing to you but I literally can’t help myself. I never can when I’m with you.”

It’s only when she’s finished that she realises Tayce’s expression is full of fear, and her heart sinks like a lead balloon.

“You told Lawrence about us?”

She swallows, guilt seeping in like cracks in a dam. “Tayce, I… We’re not the big secret you think we are. A lot of people know, or suspect. Is… Is that the issue?”

Tayce chews her lip, eyebrows furrowed. Every millisecond that she doesn’t speak is agony, each second another stab to A’Whora’s heart, tiny needles of time cutting into her as she waits and waits for the ugly truth. This is it, now, the swirling nausea in her stomach tells her, this is when it all ends. This is where you scare off the love of your life.

The… what? The fucking what? The who of her what?

Too late now.

“I haven’t lost interest in you. I don’t think that’s even possible. I’m like, obsessed with you.”

A’Whora freezes, expecting virtually anything but that. “You- what? But- huh?”

“Yeah!” Tayce laughs nervously, unsure of how to react - they have that in common, at least. “I mean, girl, look at you, you’re gorgeous. I was getting freaked out by how much I, like, feel, so I just shut everything down and denied it all. I mean, I figured if I was freaking myself out, you must think I’m a right old weirdo. Have I got this all wrong?”

The ice melts. A’Whora can feel the shards shrinking, the wounds closing up, the warmth returning to her in a blossoming not unlike the flowers of spring, freshening the air and sweeping away her anxieties.

“I’ve never been so happy to call you an idiot in my life,” A’Whora tells her.

Tayce cocks an eyebrow. “You dirty liar, you love calling me an idiot,” She bites back, not leaving room for A’Whora to reply before kissing her right then and there, in the middle of a hotel corridor, leaning up against the wall for support. A million chemical reactions spark off all at once, a frenzy of activity rendering her incapable of doing anything but wrapping her arms around her bandmate, her best friend, her everything, and kissing her until she can’t breathe.

When they have to come up for air they do, all gasping and pink cheeks and dazed eyes. Every cell, every nerve, every neuron in A’Whora’s body is awake and alive, drawn towards Tayce like a magnetic pull. She can’t ignore it, and can’t think why she’d ever want to.

-

“Will you fucking stay still?”

“I haven’t moved an inch, hen, your shaky hands are not my problem.”

Ellie huffs, big pink earrings dangling from her ears swinging as she moves her head. They’re shaped like hearts, the word ‘doll’ in cursive across the middle in sparkling letters, and it’s adorably Ellie Diamond in every way possible. Even irritated, she’s oddly cute.

“Lawrence! I’m not trying to make you look ugly, stay still for me!” She pleads.

A’Whora watches from her chair, face already expertly done. She woke up pleasantly early, nestled happily in Tayce’s arms after everything. They’d decided to go back to A’Whora’s room, just in case Lawrence woke up and tried to send reams of abuse to Ellie, and ended up laying together cuddling until they fell asleep. No matter how sober A’Whora swore she was, Tayce just giggled and told her there was no chance of anything more than a cwtch, at least until the morning.

Thankfully, they’d kept Lawrence’s phone away from her, but there was nothing she could do but watch helplessly as Ellie and Lawrence engaged in a battle of attrition while doing makeup.

Lawrence rolls her eyes so hard A’Whora can practically feel it from across the room. “Not to worry hen, there’s more than one girl in the band, I’m sure you’ve got options on who can look pretty and who can’t.”

A’Whora winces at the low blow, and judging by Ellie’s expression, all pouty lips and big sad eyes, she’s hurt. More than anything, she wants to rush in and fix things for them, help them do the big talk and work it all out, but she knows it’s not really her business. They have to do this for themselves, so she sits quiet and prays that they will.

“Oh my god.” Ellie sets down her brushes and stares Lawrence in the face, awfully bold and completely unexpected. “Are you gonna hang this over me forever? I just - didn’t want you to think I was too forward! I’ve been regretting it all night, I regretted it as soon as I even said it! I can’t stand you being upset with me.”

Lawrence’s expression softens. “What?”

“You’re, like, the best person ever. I look up to you so much, I don’t think I could admire anyone more than I admire you. I really didn’t mean to upset you, I didn’t want to come on too strong.”

There’s a pause - A’Whora holds her breath, and notices that just across from her, Bimini is suddenly paying attention, her phone long since abandoned in her hand as she gapes at the two of them, dumbfounded.

Lawrence throws her arms around Ellie, squeezing her in an embrace that seems too tender to be looking at, the next best thing to a kiss when in the middle of painting someone’s face. Ellie squeezes back, her lips mouthing words that the other girls can neither hear nor try to. This is for them and them alone.

Tayce enters just as they break apart, throwing herself into the seat next to A’Whora and grinning. “Hiya, gorge, what’d I miss?”

She leans over and kisses A’Whora’s cheek.

Bimini’s eyes pop open. “You and- and then her and- what the fuck? Babes, I think we skipped a few chapters!”

“You just haven’t read the book,” A’Whora winks at her.

“Right, right,” Bims nods understandingly, ever one to just go with the flow. “And is the big lesbian orgy before the concert or after?”

[vannyvancan]

"mr assassin" Roommate!Shinsou Hitoshi X F!Reader Part 2

Part 2 of your Roommate/Assassin!Shinsou is here! First of all I wanna thank y'all for liking the first part so much! In this part we go deeper in darker theme of it, so just a fair warning.

my masterlist. Hope you have a great day and happy reading!

Tw for : Assassin!Shinsou theme, female reader,  gun usage, slight insecurity, NSFW for the most part on the later chapters, drug usage, corrupt government talk, harrasment

Day five of living with your new roommate. He hadn't shown much of an interest in harming you...

That was swell.

You huffed out a breath of relaxation when the realization hit, but not also that, things weren't as bad as you expected! The thought you'd get a nasty roommate who would leave much more bigger mess than you was on the mind... but he seems to be the one who cleans as well? A welcome surprise indeed.

Shinsou was an enigma, waking up early at five am, neatly sorting his clothing and coming back late at 11 pm, he didn't seem restless, which could only mean he probably has a second accommodation where he rests and eats as well. It also explains why he only had one bag with him which you had decency and never saw what was inside. Besides...

He had given you a glare yesterday when you stared at it for long with those white pupils of his.

Even though he was soft spoken, he always managed to find a way to poke fun at you before he left. Granted, you were quiet surprised when he made you a french toast every morning! He barely knows you, but you were grateful to have found a roommate that in one way or another showed his gratitude. Afterwards, you felt obligation to one up him and return the favour. Now dragging your dear friend out, you giggled at the phone text from Uraraka as she immediately started spewing jokes about your potential 'future' with him.

„What an idiot.“ You grinned to yourself, walking down the street to the meeting place, you were about to go shopping with her, you still had to supply yourself with comfortable winter clothing.

„Y/N!“ Uraraka's voice reached your ears.

„Hey! Long time no see!“

„Very long time indeed!“

Uraraka rushed her step to give you the biggest hug there was. She was the sweetest friend and was always there for you no matter the circumstances. Now both of you dragging yourselves in the clothing store

„You just got off from work right? How was it?“ She asked, looking at time, it was now 5 pm.

„Tiring, its even worse because they fired colleagues before summer so now all of us have extra hour of work.“

„Oh no. But at least you will be rewarded more no? More hours equal more pay.“

„Nope, it's the same job in the end, they just extended work time.“ Frowning at the work contract on the mind, it was a very high chance it will drastically change soon as well.

„It's very... bad.“ You nervously laughed as you walked together.

„One time they fired someone from storage, only to replace them with boss's relative. By law its forbidden, but they made up a name for the new position that does the same job in storage. So it seems valid, but its not.“

„Ah... it happened here as well, but uhm.“ Uraraka started

„Hmm?“

„There's been some disappearances from our parent company, we are having a bit of a rescheduling on our own as well.“ Uraraka nervously chuckled and scratched the back of her head, it was quiet obvious there's been some action going on on her end as well.

„But enough about that, how's Shinsou~?“ She teasingly leaned in and poked her pink cheek.

Your mind shifted to the now roommate, the intimidating figure had you stuttering for a second. Obviously, Uraraka shouldn't of hung out with Mina so often back in college days, because it was so obvious she wanted to pull out some flustering on your end as well. Her curiosity especially hit the peak since she heard your voice hit higher notes when talking about him.

„I-I.. U-um. Okay, fuck! I can't!“ Both of the palms now covered your face to hide the embarrassment.

„Ahah! Is he that hot? You didn't react like that for so long!“

„Shut up!“ You huff out „It's enough that he made a toast for me yesterday, now I don't know how to return the favor. I want to get close to him, but he's unapproachable.“

The brunette put a finger on her lower lip in deep thought.

„Maybe if he's so busy, you can make him little lunches in a box, since he's so busy.“

„Uraraka, that's so childish.“

„It's not! You have to show him your soft side! Poke around, maybe he likes it.“

„My soft side?“

Grimacing as she advised, you were afraid of getting your feelings hurt. Now hesitantly picking up shirts and pants from the shopping stand, you managed to pick decent clothing for the upcoming winter before the prices skyrocket, it was expensive already but you managed to find something cheap. Your eyes trailed to find a plain white scarf, it was really nice quality, and rather cheap, but the sudden thoughts redirected to Shinsou as fingers tried out the material.

Maybe its not a bad idea to try and open up, you'll try but there should be equal effort on his end as well. Now snatching the scarf from the stand, you both bought your things and left the store, suddenly being nudged on the shoulder by the pink cheeked individual, you let out a relieved laughter while walking home for today.

...

„No, no! Please, Spare me!“

„I'm afraid job's a job.“

„No, please! My wife-!“

-SNAP-

„... Operation successful, returning to the main area. Prepare for body disposal.“

„Roger that Mindjack.“

On the broad daylight, Shinsou had eliminated yet another target for today, this time it was a business man whose life spiraled down in gambling addiction, the man who had hired him said he owned too much and knew too much to be kept alive.

Drugs and gambling went hand in hand, it was no different that the client probably had some shady stuff going on on their end as well. Shinsou had to keep his eye open on this one as well.

„Dispatched him quickly?“ Shoto came by side to Shinsou while adjusting dark gloves on.

„Yeah.“

„Good. Let me help you up.“

Several moments later, a truck came by to pick the dead body up, Kirishima's disguise as a trash driver made both of them cringe for a moment, but quickly brushed it off as Shoto and Shinsou threw it away. The cleanup crew should get rid of their traces now, all he has to do is get away as fast as possible from here. Shoto and Shinsou entered in the truck and drove in silence.

„You blocked the spot quiet nicely Shoto! Made a nice clearing for Shinsou to execute.“ Kirishima praised

„I merely blocked the parking lot. I don't see it being worth a mention.“

„Man, but missions like these always for newbies rely on stalking and timing. And this was perfect.“

„Nothing is perfect in this line of business.“ Shinsou ripped off his gloves and cracked his own neck to relieve tension. „Karma will hit you back hard if you don't know what you are doing.“

„Yeah yeah, it isn't very manly if you're in it just for cash, I mean... I'm rooting for justice and y'all, don't go thinking I am blind to what you guys are doing.“

Shoto and Shinsou fell silent. It was hard to swallow the truth, the car ride to the safe house wasn't long, soon Kirishima hit the brakes and came to a stop to the small abandoned storage house on the outskirts of the city. Shoto jumped out to take care of the body while Shinsou assisted with it, after they were done, Kirishima checked the contract for the job well done and handed the payment. A block of dollar bills now in their hands, the digital transfer of money would raise eyebrows in eyes of banks, so the money transfer was best if it was physical.

„Here you go boys! Boss says that the next contract is gonna be handed out tomorrow, you are free for the rest of the evening.“

„Tomorrow already?“ Shinsou asks.

„Yeah, what did you mean with that question?“

„I was thinking of looking into the client of the previous contract. Do some research and possibly eliminating him.“

Kirishima clicked with his tongue while Shoto huffed out and fiddled with the block of money in his hands.

„Sorry man. Solo contracts wont get you money, and gateways like us wont help you since we put too much at stake. You are on your own if you are gonna kill someone who is off the list.“ Kirishima explained

„Why would you even do it?“ Shoto asked, „Its not like the guy did you anything bad.“

Before Shinsou could answer Kirishima pat his back two times before turning on his heel to store his equipment away and head home himself for today.

„Mindjack has always been like that, even before you started working with. He sorta goes off on his own at times, seeking who needs killin' and who doesn't. That's why we hired you Shoto.“

„Can't blame me for doing what I think its right.“ Shinsou lowered his head, „All I need is time, That's why I was taken aback when a new contract was announced for tomorrow.“

„Alright alright, Mr. Assassin. You'll get your time. Someday. For now, this handsome manly man is going to go home for tonight! I'm going to get myself some hot bath.“

„See you Red. I'll be going too, Goodnight Mindjack.“

The departure was short, Shinsou took his bag and changed clothes before heading back, the bad smell could of easily rub off on him and he didn't want you to start speculating things. Even though he mostly ends his victim's lives in a way where no blood can be shed, it was a close call when she started eyeing the bag yesterday. He hated it, but he had already planned out way's to kill the roommate he was living with for any situation if she found out his true work.

'I don't need any of you to help me in my solo hunt.' He thought to himself, putting his black leather jacket on and helmet, he checked out his surroundings before revving up his bike and driving away.

The evening was busy as people were going back from work, it was 6 pm after all and he was stressing out on the fact that he will have to see his roommate. Maybe he could take a spin? Or start investigating on his own, but he didn't have time, he needed it. Rumbling of the bike eased tension he had from the committed crime, but only barely. As he came to a red light he slowed down and realized he was shaking badly, he knew it was not only from the setting sun and chilling air slowly creeping in, but also of stress. The realization that he might get caught always hit him harder after it settled in his mind. He inhaled deeply and eyed the nearby passengers. His eyes land on a woman in distance he never thought he would run into.

It was you, and you have been on your way to the flat with things you've gotten. The fact you saved up on the flat made you relax and indulge in the little shopping spree with Uraraka and groceries. You smiled from ear to ear nevertheless the tiredness creeping on you from the day.

„Mm...“ You sighed and rolled your shoulders.

„Maybe I'll make the thing she told me.“

You honestly looked like a happy child after realizing now that you have a roommate who pays for half of the expenses, you have extra cash to buy for things and make food at home. It wasn't a big deal to go out and buy something since it was cheap to buy a box of instant meal, but you wanted to cook your own food for a long time now. As you looked in the grocery bag and already beginning to think of the recipe you'd think for it, you suddenly bumped onto a stranger who didn't quiet follow his surroundings either. The harsh impact almost made you fall behind flat on your backside, but you managed to find balance. 'How rude-!' you thought.

„Ah-! S-sorry! I didn't mean to bump into you sir-„

„Watch where you are stepping wench-! I swear, women like you need to fucking know their place and stay at home.“

Excuse me?

Since when did this idiot have any right to find you to get his frustrations out?

You frowned at his sentence, knowing better not to engage with a random incel on the streets at evening hours, whose breath reeked of beer and bad hygiene, you decided to clutch your bags and pass by him hurriedly.

„Don't fucking ignore me!“

„Hey! Let me go!“

The man captures your wrist harshly and doesn't let go, now pulling you towards himself, he makes your belongings and your body stumble forward. His other hand wrap around your waist and starts dragging you along with him. Trying to shake yourself away only resulted in him recapturing you. He started laughing and you only now realize he quiet probably meant to bump into you.

He was trying to kidnap you-

„I said you are a bitch! Now you'll know your place-!“

„Let me go!“

Closing your eyes, the strong grip bruised your wrist and you yelped in pain, Your eyes veiled with tears as his disgusting sweaty hands found their way on your thighs to try and attempt to carry you, but the hold that was on you was suddenly broken free and a strong impact of a punch made the man fall flat on the ground. You were quiet sure you heard something broke as well.

„Agh! Son of a-!“

The adrenaline spiked in your veins and you immediately snapped out of it to see what was going on. Another hand rested on you almost protectively, you raised head to see a dark dressed figure that was very familiar. You were quiet shocked to find Shinsou held you close to his chest, wasn't he supposed to work until very late? You hear his quickened heartbeat and deep breathing as he gazed into the eyes of an attacker. Clutching onto him, you immediately felt more sorry for the drunken individual that had attacked you. Hooded eyes with dark eye bags were visible with blood rush, he stared down at his victim like a prey.

„I honestly can't believe how uncool you are, attacking a woman.“ He tilted his head on the side „Piss off before I do anything worse.“

The drunkard scrambled to his feet, he held onto his nose, groaning in pain inflicted by just his one punch.

„You fucker-! You broke my fucking nose!“

He charged again at Shinsou and you. This time, Shinsou quickly dispatched him by a high kick in his stomach, stealing all the air from his lungs. He hunched over and fell flat face forward, deeming him now unconscious. Your mouth went agape at his form, even though there were no visible passerby's, the drivers could certainly call police and at any moment and both of you would get caught.

„Shinsou!“ You panicked, finally reacting at the scene.

„Come on, lets get the hell out from here. He's bad news.“ He pat your shoulders and helped you scramble the bags that were on the ground.

He led you to climb on his bike that you were quiet hesitant to get on at first, he didn't let you get acquainted as the time was limited and you let out a noise of protest at first.

„We have no time, grab onto me.“ He revved up his bike and it rumbled.

„You just gonna escape like that!?“ You asked „What gives he's not gonna blame it on us? The police-“

„Police is not going to do shit.“ He glared at you „Unless you want to call them right now and deal with this sort of mess on Thursday evening, be my guest.“

You whined again, thinking thoroughly on his words you knew he was right so you followed his orders. If anything Shinsou was a witness if both of you ever end up getting caught. Holding onto the bags in your hand, you decided it was a better option to leave. Now climbing on you adjusted yourself in back of seat, the view in front of you were of his back, now starting to get illuminated by the street lights. He smelled nice, despite it being closed off by the leather jacket, his vibrant purple hair was flattened by the helmet, and you couldn't shake off the thought that you were about to hold him. You let your left hand slip around his stomach while your right one grips his shoulder.

Fuck, he was solid.

The gas made you back up a bit and grip on him tighter as he violently sped forwards to escape the scene. You hid your face in his back and held onto dear life. You weren't acquainted with bike's, most of your life was spent driving in cars and public transport, but you were quiet thankful to have him tell you when to lean on sides as you took turns.

„Just like riding a bicycle“ He claimed.

You relaxed after he talked more about it, there was something about him being calm in this situation made you very thankful. If he hadn't shown up...

Well, you wouldn't like to think about it.

He slowed down and stopped as the lights turned orange, then red, he took this opportunity to check on you. Shinsou leaned back and turned to you.

„You okay?“

„Y-yeah, still a bit shaken up about it. I... think I'll be fine. What about you?“

„I'm good.“ He replied shortly, his curt expression not giving anything else away.

In his mind, there wasn't anything he could do to help, the thought of comforting a victim was very alien to him. He could manage dispatching the person quickly, but he would rather much leave a therapy session to others. There was something about how he emotionally closed off himself that helped him do what he was working for, but it was never in favor when someone needed emotional support, like you right now.

His thought process was interrupted by a white scarf now gently falling around his neck.

„Your facial expression doesn't quiet match your body language Mr. Shinsou. Here, have this, your body is shaking.“

„What is this?“ He asked, tenderly reaching for the soft white fabric and letting the warmth of it settle around his neck.

„Its a scarf... I was planning on giving it to you. You are a good roommate to me.“

His eyes lit up at the realization, his knee was thumping up and down in nervousness from what he had been overthinking about, whats wrong with this woman? Is she going to be the one giving him the therapy session? He better not go soft now. The light turned green and you took a last turn to your place and he parked nearby. Both of you got off and he helped you by giving you a hand and with the bags.

„You didn't have to.“

„That's not true, I had to! I know work's probably putting a lot of strain on you just like mine is, and I know you mean only well, hell, you've been cooking an extra toast just for me.. and now you saved me.“

Both of you came to a stop as you entered the building. You sighed a little bit as words of gratitude escaped you

„And I just want to say.. Thank you."

Wide eyed like a kitten, he seemed so innocent if he didn't act so suspicions all the time. But this time you were so happy on seeing your roommate warming up to you. He was speechless for a solid second, he raised the scarf just a little bit to hide his mouth and nose.

Was he blushing?

"You really think that huh?" He asks, it was a simple question, but it got you stuttering madly and you looked onward, taking big steps as suddenly your flat was the lifeline of a place to be in right now. Shinsou himself didn't want to admit it but looking at you being cheerful after the events set his mind at ease.

"O-of course! A-and don't think that that you are ever a bad person, whoever is telling you bad things at work... They are wrong, because you are actually a really nice person... I think." You said without looking back.

„Now you are just sprouting nonsense.“ He chuckled and followed closely behind.

„Come on! I'm gonna cook us dinner. We are gonna feast.“

[esblueberry]

Hiiiiiiii I'm back................................ anyway harrow came out and here we are opinion/theory time

So, guilty. She's guilty 100% and i would've voted not forgiven. LISTEN I know she's killing bad people but that doesn't matter, what does matter is her actually enjoying it.

So at first (or atleast from what I remember it's been a while) kotoko felt she was right but didn't seem to enjoy the process, she was cold and distant and in the mikoto voice drama didn't sound like she was taking any particular pleasure in beating the shit out of him. which you can also see in the music video up until the last part.

kotoko didn't actually kill anyone, extorted them for info or money and beat the lights out of them (you could argue she did kill that one guy but notice she's wearing a bandana, she wouldn't need to hide her identity if he died, whats a corpse gonna do? tell someone?) until the end

so wolves are used alot in harrow, first at the start. one is sat next to her and when the camera is moved, reveals several eyes in the darkness.

second time we see them they're circling around kotoko, she's a lil confused but eventually instinct takes over and she runs into the woods, wolves following her in the second chorus.

and after that we have her slow down for a bit and have a pov shot of looking down at a wolf by her side, looking up at her and baring its fangs. then almost all instruments stop and you can hear her laugh and she smiles, revealing her own fangs. then she kills that guy.

so..... the wolves are an interesting choice of metaphor because it could represent her being a "lone wolf" but it's not one wolf, there's a whole pack of them and yet kotoko herself is alone. so what do the wolves represent?

desire and bloodlust.

to be short and sweet here, kotoko has a sort of god/superiority complex that allows her to vent out her violent tendencies while still feeling in the right for doing so. similar to mikoto in a sense, both seem to deny the reality of their own actions.

so why did I say I would've voted her unforgiven when I think she really shouldn't (added on to why I wouldn't, girl isn't doing good this whole justice thing, murder or not is not doing her health any favours), after doing a small catch up on the milgram tag, apparently those who are voted guilty are actually being harmed??? nightmares and possible hallucinations and man... no thanks. no matter how shitty someone is they need help to rehabilitated, held accountable, understand their actions are wrong and strive to make up for what they've done, not to be forgiven but to become better. and torture and the death penalty and lets out catharsis for the victims for only a second. anyway yeah so im not gonna be voting anyone not forgiven in the future that includes futa unfortunately

anyway see you when the next song is out ig

[belit0]

Burned Love

Anonymous:

That fic with Itachi taking care of his s/o was so cute! X3 Can you do a short fic like that but with Izuna? Thank you!

Rating: G

Pairing: [Uchiha Izuna / Reader]

Tw: none!

Additional Characters: [Uchiha Shisui] [Uchiha Madara]

For the past two weeks, Izuna has been caught between clan issues and Madara’s temper. Due to his responsibilities, the time spent on his relationship with you has been strictly cut, bordering on nullity. Being a dedicated and loving boyfriend, the Uchiha is overflowing with guilt about the situation, and at the first opportunity to free himself, he intends to compensate you in the best way he can think of.

Cooking for you.

But you do remember that Izuna can’t actually cook, right? …

Good luck!

“What should we put first? Rice or water?”

“Why are you asking me? I called you to help me, not to make it more difficult Shisui.”

“I told you I had no idea what to do in a kitchen and you insisted…

"Yeah well, nobody else was available, so shut up and… I don’t know, Do something?”

“How long do we have until [Y/N] arrives?”

“Let me see… about half an hour, yep."

"WHAT?! HOW DUMB ARE YOU TO THINK WE CAN PULL THIS OFF IZUNA?!”

“What’s the problem? Our kitchen guy has our food ready in less time…”

“And why don’t we call him? You’re a fool if you think anything good is going to come of the two of us doing this.”

“Because that wouldn’t be romantic Shisui, use your brain. Tiger mind, tiger mind.”

“I’m only going along with this because you’re my favorite cousin, you know… whatever, let’s do it.”

“Yeah bro, let me turn on the… what’s it called… the thing that throws fire? And it’s for warmth? I can swear we have one…”

“An oven, Izuna. A fucking oven.”

“Are you reading my mind? So… how do you turn it on?”

“Well, I guess with fire in -”

“ Say no more, little cousin, we are Uchihas, remember?”

With all the unfounded confidence in the world, Izuna felt ready. Directing his body to the kitchen artifact, he made the hand seals of the most powerful Katon in the clan, and without any hesitation, fired his expert Jutsu into the oven. Within a minisecond, the entire wall of the kitchen was on fire, and the two Uchihas understood the future that lay ahead if they did not solve the problem.

“ARE YOU INSANE?! HOW CAN YOU THINK OF USING THAT TECHNIQUE INSIDE THE HOUSE, YOU FUCKING PSYCHOPATH!”

“I THOUGHT IT WOULD SPEED UP THE PROCESS, OKAY? MY BAD! WE ALL MAKE MISTAKES! IT CAN HAPPEN TO ALL OF US! DON’T YOU KNOW SOME KIND OF SUITON TO TURN IT OFF?”

“OF COURSE NOT! WHAT ABOUT YOU?! DIDN’T YOU LEARN ANYTHING FROM THAT TOBIRAMA RIVALRY?!”

“WATCH YOUR MOUTH YOU FUCKING IDIOT, I WOULD NEVER STOOP SO LOW AS TO LEARN THE SAME STYLE AS MY ENEMY. WAIT HERE.”

“IZUNA! WHAT THE FUCK! GET BACK HERE BEFORE THE HOUSE FALLS DOWN!”

In the midst of the fire, ashes and heat, Izuna walked as if nothing was happening until he was outside the house, analyzing the street. Quickly, he scanned the surroundings of the Uchiha territory, until he found a group of children playing with enthusiasm at some distance from the obvious chaos. At a steady pace, he walked up to them, and spoke in the sweetest, most childlike tone, perfectly trained for the youngest members of his family.

“What’s up, boys!”

“Izuna-Sama!” they all shouted in unison with great smiles.

“I have a very important question to ask you. Do you think you can answer it for me?”

Different answers were cheered in the air, all positive and excited. The group of young people was always happy to receive Izuna’s attention.

“That’s the way I like it! Now, listen carefully. Madara-Sama gave me a very veeery difficult mission that I could not complete… So I need help from some brave Shinobi to take my place! Tell me, have any of you already learned Suiton’s techniques at the academy?”

Two young kids, almost teenagers, shouted with courage and pride a strong “yes”.

“Very good! Follow me, gentlemen, it’s time to perform your first official mission.”

In more of a hurry to get back to the source of the flames, Izuna pressed on, followed by the children who would save his home. From the short distance, a column of smoke could be seen rising into the sky, and several curious heads were walking by and slowing more than necessary to take a look.

When they reached the door, the Uchiha showed the way to the boys inside. Addressing the small crowd he exclaimed.

“ There is nothing to see. It is a small mission drill, Madara-Sama’s orders. Please disperse, thank you very much. Have a good day!”

His friendly smile disappeared along with all the spectators, and a great concern attacked the features of the irresponsible Izuna. If Madara found out that he was spreading false orders in his name, or that he had set the house on fire, things would end up badly for him.

Without dissimulation, he ran to the kitchen, where Shisui, useless and perplexed by the new company of the infants, looked at them without understanding their presence. In his hand he held a long blanket that was completely burned, while his entire face and clothes were covered in black ash.

"This is the mission, boys. Show your water techniques and kill the fire!”

“Yes ¡Izuna-Sama!”

In order to please and make their superior proud, both children shot large amounts of water from their mouths into the burning wall. Their seals were quick and accurate, and both adult Uchihas were impressed with the future generation of Shinobis their clan had produced.

After the fire was extinguished, smoke took its place, and covered the entire house. The smell of burning was unmistakable and undeniable. The colour black scattered throughout the room was evidence of the facts.

“Good job, kids! Don’t tell Madara-Sama, the report must come only from me for being a bad Shinobi and not being able to complete his mission…”

“Don’t worry, Izuna-Sama, we’ll keep your secret!”

The two children ran out of the house with happiness and joy, feeling fulfilled as Ninjas for being able to help someone important in the clan.

“You set the house on fire, lied to two innocent babies, and involved me in all this, do you really expect Madara not to find out?”

“Shut up you idiot, I don’t plan to be here when my big brother arrives. Clean this up, will you?”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Look at me, L.O.O.K.A.T.M.E., I’m covered in ashes, dust and dirt, I smell bad, and removing traces of this is impossible without the help of another ninja. With all my love for you Izuna, I gotta say: fuck you. See you later”.

With anger and speed, Shisui left the ruined kitchen. After a few seconds, a slamming sound was heard at the front door. A knot formed in Izuna’s throat as he knew he would leave that monstrous scene in the hands of the first Uchiha to set foot in the house.

After taking a shower to eliminate the fact of his person, he heard the second victim arrive. He came down the stairs ready to leave as quickly as possible, and spoke without leaving room for answers when he came across another of his small cousins.

“Little Sasuke! Look I’m really in a hurry and I really have to go. In the kitchen there is a really huge mess that I couldn’t take care of and I really don’t know where it came from. You would really do me a huge favour if you could clean it up, ok? I really love you, bye.”

Passing by a stunned Sasuke who was coming home from training, he managed to slip out of the household without problems. By the time the Uchiha who was left in charge of his mess shouted in anger at finding out the truth, Izuna was too far away from the district to hear him.

With no stops or delays, he headed straight for your house, where he knew you would be preparing to meet him. When he reached the property, he knocked twice on the door with his special knock, the one that characterizes his presence in your home, and he was a little bit reassured to be received by you. Dressed in your house clothes, but with a towel holding your wet hair, a sign that you had just come out of the shower.

“Zuna? I thought it was at your house today… I must really be overdoing it to get confused like this”.

“Yeah, it WAS, at my house [Y/N], but… you know… Uchihas and their intensity… surprises… whatever. Can we stay here?”

Nodding your head as a mocking smile assaulted your face, you allowed him into your home. One of the most entertaining things about the Uchiha family was indeed the intensity of it, and the consequences it ended up creating.

Izuna sat down on the armchair, and when he was comfortable, you placed yourself on his lap in a familiar way.

“What happened this time?”

“I may have set something on fire… and I may have used children to fix it…”

“How long do you think we have until your brother shows up here claiming your head?”

“A full dinner. He was with Hashirama.”

Both laughing, and joining their lips in a soft kiss full of love. You stroked his neck, the back of his head, and ran your fingers through the hair of his ponytail. You noticed that it was poorly tied and somewhat uncombed, and it didn’t take you long to realize that it was thanks to the haste with which Izuna escaped the scene of his crime.

“Come here, you couldn’t even brush your hair Zuna.”

“Well, you know [Y/N], when most of your kitchen is destroyed and your house is full of smoke, there’s not much time to tie your hair.”

Getting off his lap, you sat on his back, where you proceeded to style it calmly. Taking your time and enjoying the beautiful silky feel of his hair in your hands, you tied his ponytail as it would normally look.

“You in the kitchen? And not to steal food before dinner time? What were you trying to do?”

“I… don’t want to explain.”

“Izuna… come on, it’s me. What could be so terrible?”

“I’m ashamed, I don’t want to, okay? Leave me alone.”

A slight shade of red attacked his cheeks, while his arms crossed over his chest just like his brother would, and his gaze went down to the ground.

“Pleaaaaaase?”

“[Y/N]…”

“Please Zuna…”

“Agh, well. I was… I… IwastryingtocoocksomethingforyoubecauseI'vebeenashittyboyfriendlately.”

“I can’t understand when you talk so fast…”

“ You’ re mean.”

“But you love me.”

“Yes, I do. I was trying to cook something for you because I’ve been a shitty boyfriend lately.”

“…Uchiha Izuna… you make me the happiest person in the world every day. Just because you have a job that can’t wait doesn’t make you a bad boyfriend. Come here.”

So, the Uchiha turned to face you, and you joined in a kissing session that lasted a few long minutes. Between caresses and affection, you realized that your ideal place was next to the man who accidentally set his house on fire for you, trying to outdo himself to impress you.

“If you were trying to prepare dinner for me, we should eat to honour your great attempt.”

“Sounds awfully good.”

You both got up and headed to the kitchen. You didn’t let Izuna do much, just as you didn’t let him go near the fire or flammable things. Cutting vegetables and controlling the boiling of some ingredients, the Uchiha felt useful next to you. When your dishes were ready, both of you sat down at your table and devoured what you had prepared together.

After a long hour of chatting, while you were serving dessert for the two of you, a knock on the door brought you out of your bubble of happiness. Three frighteningly loud knocks, which caused the walls to rumble, slammed into your home.

“IZUNAAAAAA! GET OUT OF THERE THIS INSTANT AND COME HERE NOW.”

Madara’s voice was full of anger, rage and violence. Even if your boyfriend’s older brother respected and liked you as his sister-in-law, you were aware that if you did not open the door for him immediately, the man would knock it down, without mercy or care. Reluctantly, you got up without looking at Izuna, and went to your main entrance.

The elder Uchiha must have felt your footsteps approaching, for no more banging was heard. Before opening, you could feel your partner hiding in one of the rooms of your house, hoping that any corner would save him from his brother’s fury.

As you opened, Madara looked at you with a bright Sharingan and an intimidating height. His hair was bristly, and his muscles contracted under the tension.

“Where the fuck is he?”

“Good night, Madara. Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“This is not against you [Y/N], just tell me where he is and -”

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about, Madara, now if you’ll excuse me, my ice cream is melting.”

You were closing the door in his face when a giant hand came in your way and opened it wide. Gently pushing you aside, the Uchiha entered and went inside your house as if it were his own. It did not take him long to find his younger brother and drag him out of hiding by the neck using his arm, without applying more force than necessary.

“Aghgggg [Y/N]! I-M SS-SORRY-Y”

“Shut up and walk, Cassanova, you’ll have a chance to make up the lost time with your partner. After you repair the fucking kitchen.”

Thus, Izuna and Madara disappeared in the night, one brother dragging the other by the neck to the Uchiha district. With a sigh, you closed the door.

“Well… more ice cream for me.”

[pfreadsandwrites]

Congrats on gaining 100 followers🎉🎉You deserve all of them and more! 🥳 I'm looking forward to everything you're planning to write in the future❤️ As for the prompts, would you please do #160 with Kakashi? Go wild with it 👁👁 Thank you and I wish the best for your blog❤️

100 follower celebration

Okay, here it is! I want to thank you specifically @madaras-housewife because you have been so amazing and supportive from the first fic I posted here and your encouragement has really helped this blog grow and made me write more. So thank you so much, and I’m sorry this took me forever to get out!! This was a bit of an unusual one so it took me a while to think about, and apologies if it’s not wild enough heh but I tried my best to develop it into something. But thank you for everything and I really hope you enjoy this :) I tried my best to go ‘out there’ and wild with it lol.  Also can I just say this mangacap is perfect for the last part of this one-shot lol. 

warnings/notes: third person, Kakashi pov, female civilian reader (she works at the hospital but plz don’t ask for details beyond that lol), pining Kakashi, kinda fluffy, then kinda sad, then kinda hopeful, marking this as 18+ since there is a paragraph that is brief NSFW mentions, in my mind this takes place between the time skip between part 1 and part 2 but it doesn’t really matter. Told in 4 small vignettes/parts essentially. 2.7k words.

taglist: @allthingskakashi @datblobbyfish @enchantedpendant @madaras-housewife @ibukiirisha @praisingkuroosbedhead @cinam00n @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored

160. “Do you think you could teach me that?”

i.

It’s a simple question.

Of course, it’s also a pointless question, one that Kakashi’s sure she’ll see through, one that he shouldn’t even think about asking.

Of course, he’s in the hospital again. Of course, she’s the one with the misfortune of tending to him again. Of course, he’s mesmerised while her hands dutifully wrap the tourniquet around his arm, like she’s cutting off the blood to his brain.

So, of course, he asks it without thinking.

The self-admonishment starts before the words finish leaving his mouth.

Do you think you could teach me that?

His cheeks heat up as the words catch up with him. They echo again and again, serving only to jeer at him further. What the hell is he thinking, making a request like that? A request that’s so nonsensical, so outlandish, so flimsily shrouding its true intent that she’d be justified in ridiculing him right there.

But it’s done now. Here he is, asking a bizarre favour of a civilian woman already doing him a favour.

Kakashi’d be content if the ground gives away underneath him, snatching him from this damn hospital bed. When he ponders the situation further, and he finds himself contemplating her reaction - no doubt a bewildered, adorable expression would grace her beautiful features (God, how much deeper could he get?) - he almost wants to slap himself. How did he go from the Copy Ninja, Konoha’s best jounin, to an awkward dork so swiftly and smoothly? Not only that, but she hadn’t even said anything yet. Kakashi wanted to die.

Fortunately, she only pauses. Unfortunately, her delicate fingers still against his skin, and the sensation flusters and soothes him simultaneously. But it’s only for a moment, before she diligently returns to the task at hand. Even if she’s surprised, or worse, amused, she knows to conceal it. Taking his question seriously in that earnest way that only she can. It should have eased his mind, but instead there’s only guilt at having perplexed her.

“…You want to learn this? Don’t you have enough on your plate?” She asks, bereft of judgement or ridicule.

He shouldn’t have expected any less, he knows that, and yet he still finds himself on the edge. On that precipice between anxiety and comfort, where he’s always standing around her. He can’t even formulate a response to her simple question. Yes - he probably did have enough to do. And yes, he wouldn’t have got this far without some knowledge of first aid and basic medical ninjutsu - and she probably knew that too.

“I could probably manage. It’s not a problem if you don’t have the time.” As typical as it is for him to answer a question without explaining himself further, he berates himself for it this time. Why had he made this so convoluted? And why does she let him?

“I could probably make time,” she retorts, though her voice remains gentle. “I just didn’t think there’d be anything useful you could learn from me, or that you didn’t already know.”

Nothing useful you could learn from me, or that you didn’t already know.

This time, her words echo in his mind. They’re just as kind and nudging as he thought they would be. But that didn’t mean they were any less ridiculous.

Apparently, there’s nothing he can learn from her. Nothing she can teach him.

Nothing he can learn from the woman who always smiles so brightly and indiscriminately at anyone who graced her that it renders them all equal - turning everyone from the grumpy old curmudgeon to the innocent newborn to cheerful, optimistic entities at her mercy. Nothing he can learn from her inability to use her mysterious power for anything but good, to see the value in everyone, in him, against all better judgement.

Nothing he can learn from her selflessness, and her weird knack for chiding herself for her momentary lapses in kindness, for things others don’t think twice about. Nothing he can learn from her patience and empathy in the most ridiculous situations, and her faltering in it when she draws the attention inwards.

Nothing he could learn from the woman who’s determination to revel in life, even as the opposite surrounded her, surrounded him, surrounded everyone in this cursed village, managed to bring even the heavy weight of death to its knees. Nothing he could learn from the woman who didn’t even seem fazed by it, as she tended to the hospital’s neonates with a giggle and a zest for life that he barely comprehends, much less hopes to emulate.

If - he surprises himself at his optimism, but he owes it to her - he’s incapable of learning nothing from all that, then there isn’t much hope for him at all. And if there’s one thing she inspires, if he can even pick one, it’s hope.

Kakashi eventually stops ruminating. And of course, she lets him. A wry smile forms on his lips. “I wouldn’t say that.”

She glances back at him expectantly. Curiously.

“I think there’s a lot you could teach me, you know.”

She’s already taught him without intending to, he remembers, when she doesn’t press him for an explanation. She only smiles that shy, powerful smile.

But they both know it’s acknowledgement. Of what he’s trying to say, of what he’s asking her in his awkward, haphazard way. Kind as she is, even if she shouldn’t be, she agrees.

***

ii.

And so, ever the one to keep her promise, she sets about teaching him. And Kakashi, ever the one to falter, but never one to abandon, keeps coming back. He’s a quick learner in more ways he thought.

She teaches him that finding something to smile about in the day is easier than it seems.

She teaches him to laugh when he drops by the hospital to see her and a very small patient points at his hair and berates him from escaping from the geriatric ward.

She teaches him allowance for his mistakes, and respite for his suffering.

She teaches him what a fool he’s been for denying himself an embrace all these years.

She teaches him that a kiss might be more eternal, more damning, more fate-consigning that it has any right to be.

She doesn’t have to teach him just how intoxicating, addictive it is to kiss her between the legs. She doesn’t have to teach him just where and how to move his tongue before she’s tugging at that wild silver hair of his. And when he moves in her, when she clutches onto him for dear life, whispering his name in that weak, but lingering whimper, when their breaths mingle together and she manages to exalt everything from him - his love, his strength, his seed - she doesn’t have to teach him that though the price of vulnerability is high, the reward is even higher.

She teaches him, when he dares ask what he sees in a man like her, that there’s an answer to that question that satisfies him.

She teaches him that whilst leaving for a mission used to be easy, it might one day become difficult - even for him, the one who has over a thousand under his belt, the one who only has that many because he wished one would kill him. She teaches him to admit that, too.

And when it does become difficult, just as she taught, he learns that a person waiting back home is much more motivating than a death wish could ever be.

She teaches him to forgive himself, as she begins to accompany him on his graveside visits. She teaches him that there’s a chance - a small chance, Kakashi admits, but a chance nonetheless - that there’s more for his life than living it as a penance to ghosts.

She teaches him that dreaming isn’t just for the young, the idealistic, the good. It’s for the hurt, tired veteran too.

She teaches him that hearing those three words aren’t as terrifying as he’d convinced himself all these years.

He learns, when he finally returns them, that he should have said it back long ago. Because it was all worth it just for that look on her face.

***

iii.

Their time together, dreamlike as it is, is always interrupted.

She’s used to it, calmly nodding in his direction at the summoning bird that’s taken to pecking at her window now too. He nods in kind, and with a quick kiss, he’s off on his next mission. She’s always accepting, always understanding, but the patient stare that bores into his back as he leaps off towards the gravestone (an eternal part of the farewell ritual) belies her anxiety.

Still, Kakashi does make it back. And he does again and again. Sometimes his returns are at the hospital - and that expression of hers, where she doesn’t know whether to chide him for his injury or cry that he’s still in one piece - fills him with equal parts guilt and encouragement.

She still never loses that smile, though. The smile that everyone knows.

He has to leave it behind again.

He makes it back. Without a scratch, for once, but figures he might surprise her at the hospital anyway. Strange. He used to be so good at avoiding this place, and now it’s the first place he comes to of his own accord. It’s just another way he’s lost against her, but he doesn’t begrudge it. Maybe he wants some praise for being more careful, but he won’t admit that outright. Maybe he’s getting worse and worse at waiting for that smile, too.

His optimism is never rewarded. He’s been through enough to remember that, but he’s still foolish enough to forget.

It feels different, today, walking through the corridors that she’s made so inexplicably light, so jovial. She easily leaves her mark without trying, to the awe of shinobi and civilians alike.

So when the atmosphere is dense, experience teaches him to dread it. He asks at the front desk, forgetting his tendency to hide all he can about his personal life. The woman stares up at him with wide eyes, hesitating before regaining her composure.

“(Name) isn’t working at the moment. She’s in room 175.”

She doesn’t say anything else, but it wouldn’t matter if she had. The familiar dread creeps up through his bones.

He’s prepared himself for the worst by the time he’s at her room, but it’s moot when he sees her lying there. She’s lost all her colour, she’s thinner - everything about her that’d remembered these few weeks had become so weak. Her vivacity, her will to endure, had even fooled him. But she was just as fragile as anyone else. Except for him. Why the fuck couldn’t he break, instead of someone else, instead of something that meant anything just this one fucking time?

He sits at her bedside, his calloused fingers touching her dainty ones. She’s only sleeping, at least. Purple and blue spread like constellations over her skin, bandages on her arms and cheeks - the kind of injuries he’d expect on a ninja. Of a ninja too. Thoughts upon thoughts flood his mind - how the hell did this happen? Who did this to her? If she’s not safe in the damn village that he fought to protect, where the hell could she be safe?

And, of course, the curse that he’s done so well to forget he has. Did this happen, somehow, because against all judgement, he had let himself become close to her? It makes sense that he’d only be able to fool himself to a point.

And, of course, as if to shush his self-loathing and anxiety, in that fucking selfless way she always did, that broke his heart even more - her fingers move against his.

She blinks her eyes open slowly and turns her gaze to him. She doesn’t have the energy to smile, but she tries to mimic it in the look in her eyes.

“I wasn’t expecting you back so soon.”

He clasps her hand tight - and lets go just as quickly when she winces. “What the hell happened, (Name)?”

She softens her gaze. “It’s funny that I’m the one that ended up like this, when you’re the one that went out on a mission.” Her tone is light, but somehow the hum of her voice brings gravity, whether she wants it to or not.

She won’t answer his question. As if she feels guilty that she’s putting him through something, which only hurts all the more. And Kakashi knows that insisting too strongly is too unfair, too cruel when she seems so tired, no matter how much his blood boils.

There was an attack, he figures that much, and he overhears more from a nurse. A drunk jounin who’d come across her on his way home.

It’s dealt with swiftly, with the speed and efficiency Kakashi prides himself on, but it isn’t enough. He can’t forgive himself, even if she does.

She recovers soon enough, but only to a point.

Her smile is gone. The openness she’d inspire in everyone around her, the joy she’d invite - it dwindles down to nothing. It’s all too much, too familiar, a sad story he’s seen up and close too many times.

Any smile she makes now is a facsimile, a ghost of anything she could have offered previously. But her kindness still forces her to attempt it, no matter how much it hurts, when Kakashi looks at her.

As impressive as her will is, it’s only finite. He berates himself as she breaks one night, and sobs into his chest.

But she doesn’t do it again.

She doesn’t seem to do much of anything anymore.

He has another mission.

***

iv.

Kakashi’s at the training grounds again. He’s here a lot these days. When there isn’t a mission, he’s got into the habit of putting his body through the wringer. It’s what he deserves, at the very least. Besides, he has a lot more free time than he used to. As the raindrops mix with his sweat, his lightning style blends just as seamlessly with the sky.

“Do you think you could teach me that?”

The voice is familiar. Gentle, just like it used to be. Shakier than it used to be, but there’s a faint hint of the quiet resolve he used to hear, that he was foolish enough to take for granted.

He pauses. The chakra he’d gathered in his hands dissipates, and he turns around. He’s no amateur, he knew he wasn’t alone. But he could tell his little observer wasn’t there to pose a threat, either. She watches him with her wide eyes, the wide eyes that historically and even now freeze him in place. She was never one to marvel at his ninjutsu before, only acquiescing or being impressed where appropriate, - and that’s not quite what she’s doing now, either.

“Well -,” she holds her right arm with her left. It’s a normal gesture. One that would have endeared him, but only makes his heart sink now. Suddenly it’s difficult to watch her doubt herself. “Not that exactly. I don’t even want to do that even if I could. But anything you can teach me. It doesn’t have to be a lot. I think I’d be fine with a little. It’d be enough to feel better. If you don’t have too much on your plate.”

He’s watching her now, studying that expression in her eyes. Where she’s determined and defiant, even in that modest way. He believes her - she doesn’t want to learn a lot. She doesn’t want to be too much like him. But she’s allowing herself to learn from him. She’s letting herself take, not just give.

“Alright. Tomorrow, then. But let’s get you home first. It’s late, raining…,” his voice trails off, brushing off the rain from his hair sheepishly. “And I could use a break.”

She begins to smile that shy, powerful smile again. It’s sincere, and her ability to infect others with it seems to have returned. “That’s fine by me. I hear you’ve been overdoing it lately."

Kakashi finds himself grinning back.

Do you think you could teach me that?

It’s a simple question.

[spine-buster]

t h e  c o l o u r  o f  a  c o n s t e l l a t i o n  | elias pettersson

Summary: Life comes at you in moments.  Elias and Svea are on solid ground now.  Back in Vancouver after an idyllic time in Sweden, they are faced with personal decisions that will affect their future together – both on separate and different paths professionally, though personally their connection is stronger than ever.  Many things are up in the air, but one thing that Svea and Elias know for sure is that they will always be together.  So how hard could those decisions be?

Word Count: 15k

A/N:  This is the final part of “The Space Series” although there will be an epilogue (because this bitch loves an epilogue).  It’s a bit more piece-y than I wanted it to be, but at the end of the day I’m still proud of it and I hope you enjoy!  We need more Petey love around here!

PART ONE - MADE OF OUTER SPACE  //  PART TWO - LIPS LIKE THE GALAXY’S EDGE

Svea got the text message from Grace while she was in class.  I’m here to pick you up.  Don’t ask questions.  And don’t check your notifications.

Svea did as she was told, but that didn’t mean that her heart wasn’t beating out of her chest as she left her seminar room and saw Grace’s Porsche at the bottom of the steps of the building.  When she approached, Grace reached over and opened the car door.  “What’s going on?” she asked, sliding into the passenger’s seat and clutching her messenger bag against her chest.

“The stupid media picked up your stupid boyfriend saying he has a girlfriend on a stupid camera, and now it’s everywhere,” Grace explained in an annoyed voice, signalling to rejoin the road.  She was very clearly annoyed, judging by how fast she rejoined the other cars and by the rev of her engine.  “You know, for such a quiet guy he’s got a big mouth.”

“And how do they know it’s me?”  Svea knew how stupid that question sounded the millisecond after it left her mouth.  She and Grace gave each other the exact same knowing look, one that said absolutely everything that needed to be said between the two of them.  It began happening as they grew closer, and now, it happened almost all the time.  “Never mind.  Why can’t I check my notifications?”

“Because God knows what’s going on in your DMs right now,” Grace warned.  “Anyways, what do you want to do?  Go shopping?  Go for a manicure?  How about we go for a manicure so you can’t check your phone.”

Svea couldn’t help but laugh.  She knew Grace was protective – had been since that night she came over to Elias’s place with Pippa and Svea was making sausage stroganoff – but this was taking it to a whole other level.  “Do you think it would be that bad?”

“If it’s anything like what I got from Brock’s fan club, then yeah, it’s pretty awful,” Grace said.  “And I’m serious – manicures?  You’re going to have to start getting them regularly if you want to be a hot shot lawyer,” she winked.  “Or, I don’t know, the speechwriter for Chrystia Freeland or Justin Trudeau.  Whatever you choose.”

***

When Svea walked into hers and Elias’s apartment later that day, after she’d been pampered with some Starbucks, a manicure, and a pedicure, and even a cheeky mimosa by Grace, she found Elias lying down on the couch scrolling through his phone.  She put down her bag in its usual spot before walking over to him and lying on top of him without warning.  After an entire day without him, she wanted to get close to him, to feel every inch of him.  

Elias smiled as she nestled into him, ditching his phone and paying complete attention to her.  He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her towards him.  When he kissed her, she sighed into the kiss, knowing that she was home and in her favourite place: the place where she felt the warmest, the most protected, the happiest she ever could feel – in his arms, of course.  And as they continued kissing on the couch, not bothering to stop for air – because really, who needed air when you were kissing the love of your life? – Elias shifted their bodies so Svea was on her back, and he was on his side perching himself up with one arm while the other snuck under her button-up shirt.  With his hand gliding against her bare skin and his tongue down her throat, Svea moaned slightly.  Elias took the opportunity to start unbuttoning her shirt to expose her bra.

“Elias…” she breathed out.

“Shhh…” he kissed along her jawline and down her neck.  His hand groped her breast.  He pushed the fabric of the cup down and began kissing along the curve of her breast until he reached her nipple, sucking on it gently.  Her back arched up to him.  “I missed you,” he finally hummed.  

“I was gone for eight hours,” she huffed out as she felt his tongue slip along her skin.  Her breath hitched in her throat as she felt him move towards her other breast.  She was gone at least a few hours some days because of classes, so it wasn’t like her absence was out of the ordinary.

“Too long.”  He sucked on her other breast.  When he heard her moan again, he kissed a trail back up to her lips.  Eventually, he grabbed at her wrist – the one wearing the bracelet he got her in Stockholm – and placed a kiss on the inside of it tenderly.  She was trembling by the loss of his lips on her skin, but she smiled at the gesture.  “Hello pretty girl,” he cooed playfully.  

“You’re the worst,” she huffed again, annoyed this time.  

“How was your day?”

She couldn’t believe she was sprawled out on their couch with her shirt unbuttoned and her bra pushed down with her breasts exposed and Elias was asking her how her day was.  He was playing a game and she knew it.  “Besides the fact that I still don’t know what I’m doing with my life?  Fine,” she said.  “How was your day?  I heard microphones are really strong these days.”

Elias closed his eyes and groaned.  He buried his head in her chest and shook his head.  “I’m sorry.  I’m an idiot sometimes.  Brock told me that for such a quiet guy I have a big mouth.”

Svea snorted at the reference.  For all that Grace and Brock liked to say Svea and Elias were the same person, she and Brock were astoundingly similar as well.  “Grace said that too.”

“Well, you know how they are,” he said, resting his chin against her chest, in the space between her breasts.  

Svea ran her fingers through his hair.  “It’s fine, Elias.”

“Is it though?” he asked, worried.  “I don’t want anybody to bother you.  Not now, not ever.  But especially this year when you have so much to figure out.”

“They’ll just be noise.  They’re not a part of my life,” she assured him.  “Not like you.”

Elias sighed, moving up and nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck.  He inhaled sharply, smelling her scent that he loved so much.  She smelled like everything he loved about her – flowers; vanilla; lavender; the saltwater waves of the Baltic Sea crashing again the Swedish shore; the crisp Swedish air during an early morning, though now it was later in the day and they were in downtown Vancouver.  She was magic to him, made of the moon and stars, and he wanted to keep her safe and happy as much as possible now that it was out in the open, however unwillingly, due to his big mouth.  “I love you,” he mumbled.

“I love you too,” she said easily.  Easily because she knew – it was the only thing she was certain about in life these days.  “Can you do me a favour?”

“What’s that?”

“Can you keep using your tongue, Elias?” she asked boldly, a small smirk playing on her face.  She was getting more confident with all of this – not just their new situation, but the activities that accompanied their new situation.  She felt safe and listened to and respected and catered to whenever she was in bed with Elias, always satisfied.  Elias, for his part, was also getting more confident with everything.  

“Oh?” he arched his brow at her words.  “Keep using my tongue, eh?”

“Eh?  Canada’s really getting to you.”

“Mmm,” he mumbled, kissing her chest.  “Let’s git er done,” he put on an accent.

Svea burst out laughing, shaking her head and pushing him away like she was disgusted with him as he tried to continue to kiss her.  She began wiggling to get out of his grip.  “Nooooo no no no no, not after you said that with that accent!”  She knew his teammates were responsible for that bit of lingo coupled with the accent, and while it was hilarious, she wasn’t exactly happy with it.  She knew Elias would use it constantly now.  

“Come ooonnn!” he begged, laughing and grabbing at her body so she wouldn’t wiggle away.

“We lost the moment the second you put on that accent!”

>< >< >< >< ><

Svea loved the UBC campus.  It was so beautiful, with enough old buildings to make it feel regal but enough new buildings to make it feel modern.  And the trees – God, the trees – the campus was full of lush trees, so many and so close to the water.  When she was stressed, she could always take a walk down the coast and admire the Pacific Ocean, the mountains in the distance, and the crisp British Columbia air.  After being at UBC for going on four years now, she understood why her mother loved it here so much; why it was so hard for her to give up when she moved to Sweden to be with Svea’s dad; why she constantly talked about it growing up, like it was some magical place not fit for the real world.  Svea understood now.  She thought the same things.  She didn’t think she’d ever be lucky enough to experience the things that her mother did growing up in Vancouver, but she did; she got that experience now, in university, with her own love of her life.

Despite all the stress in her life and the looming decisions she had to make, she at least had that: Elias, the love of her life.

As she grabbed her coffee from the barista and made her way to the seminar room, where she’d spend two hours learning about global uprisings, she thought about the decision she’d have to make this year.  On the one hand, she could go to law school – another three years of school, articling, and then pass the bar (all hopefully in British Columbia), and then she could join a firm or open her own.  She was already prepped and signed up to write the LSAT.  On the other hand, she could apply to the Masters of Public Policy and Global Governance program – another year and a half of school, gain her Masters, and then hopefully work in politics, but in the background, like a chief of staff or a senior advisor or even a speechwriter.  She had all the prerequisites and knew she could get in.  

But which one did she want to do?

Svea settled into her seat beside her friend Devansh, greeting him with pleasant conversation while taking out her laptop, notebook, and textbook, flipping it open to the chapter that she knew the professor would be lecturing about.  Her big decision seemed to be the only thing she thought about these days besides Elias.  But the more she thought about it, the more stressed she got.  And the more stressed she got, the more—

“So, like, you’re dating Elias Pettersson?” her friend Francesca asked as she plopped down into the seat beside her dramatically.  Instead of grabbing her notebook and laptop out of her bag like she usually did, she was intently focused on Svea who was sipping on her coffee innocently.  

“Wait – Elias Pettersson, like from the Vancouver Canucks?” Devansh perked up once he heard the name being tossed around.  “That can’t be…that’s not…no.”

“Wow, Dev,” Svea deadpanned.

“Wait – you are?” his eyebrows raised.

“H-How did you know?” Svea focused back on Francesca, still perky, still not taking out her laptop, still not taking out her notebooks.  

“So apparently Petey said something on camera?  And this journalist from the Vancouver Sun, like, scoured his Instagram and his tagged photos and found your profile kept popping up tagged in pictures with him, so the two and two were put together, and there’s an article about it on their website today!  It came up as a notification on my phone!” Francesca held up her phone as if it was still there.  It wasn’t – it was full of Snapchat notifications, but the point still stood.  “I mean, they’re right, aren’t they?  Svea Nilsson…you are dating Elias Pettersson?”

Svea was mortified.  Elias had the common sense to just say he had a girlfriend out loud, not broadcast her name for the microphones to pick up too, but they’d found her profile anyway – by stalking his, essentially.  She thought things would die down, especially because her profile had always been private, and though she did get some intense DMs like Grace knew she would, there wasn’t a bombardment and she’d just deleted them all without looking at them.  Now that her name was published in a newspaper, she had an entirely new problem on her hands.

She noticed Dev and Francesca were still waiting for an answer.  “I…yeah, I’m dating him,” she said meekly, not wanting to say too much.

“How did you even meet him?” Francesca asked.  “I mean, no offence, but you don’t exactly come out with us a lot.”

“He’s my childhood best friend,” she said, immediately putting an end to the notion that she’d met him at some bar.  “I…I grew up with him.  We’ve been best friends since we were three and he essentially followed me to Vancouver because I came here first.  He’s the person I live with and—”

“Wait – you live with him?!” Dev was shocked at her revelation.  Svea was always pretty secretive of why she never moved into a place near campus after first year, and always eluded questions as to how she was able to afford a pricey apartment in Yaletown.  Now he knew.  “You live with him and that’s why you live in Yaletown?”

“Yeah.  We…” she stopped herself, not wanting to reveal too much.  “It’s…I’m dating him, okay?”

“Svea, this is huge,” Francesca’s tone was a mix of serious and excited.  

Francesca said it as if Svea didn’t know how much of a big deal it was that she was dating the biggest star on the Vancouver Canucks.  Svea knew how much of a big deal it was.  Clearly.  If people from newspapers were stalking Elias’s profile to see who she was, it was a big deal.  It was just that, Elias, as a person, wasn’t a big deal to her.  He was her best friend.  He wasn’t the star first line centre.  “Yeah, I know.”

“Massive,” Dev commented too.  “Well I’m happy for you if you’re happy, Svea.”

“Secure that bag, girl,” Francesca quipped.

Before Svea’s jaw dropped, and before her brain could function to say anything to Francesca, their professor walked into the room and greeted the class loudly, thus ending their conversation.  He almost immediately started lecturing.  

Svea began typing, and Francesca was scrambling to get everything out of her bag.

>< >< >< >< ><

“It’s ready, pretty girl,” Elias called from the kitchen as he finished stirring the pasta in its sauce.  He looked over at Svea sitting at the dining room table, head in a giant textbook that looked menacing to him.  She looked so concentrated and focused on what she was reading, but when she heard his voice, she looked up momentarily.  She let out a loud sigh.  

Elias remembered back to the summer, back in Sweden, when they went to Emma Gardner’s dinner party and he was intimidated by Soren’s supposed ‘smarts’ and how emotional he got by it all the next morning.  When they came back to Vancouver and Svea began her last year of university, he wanted to change things.  As much as they resolved the issue right then and there, he knew he needed to do more – and he was willing to do more.  He was making a big effort to be in the know – not exactly to understand everything she was studying, but to at least know what it was.  Now that he was with Svea, he wasn’t the most important person in his life anymore – it was her.  He needed her to know that.  He made sure to show it to her every day, through his actions, his words, and his priorities when he was away from hockey.  

When he brought the plates over, he wouldn’t set hers down in front of her until she kissed him.  The textbook was cleared by then, off to the side where she didn’t have to look at it while she ate with him.  When they came back to Vancouver and she began her last year of university, she wanted to change things.  She made a promise to herself that she wouldn’t be distracted by school work during meals, especially meals with Elias.  She could tell Elias was making a huge effort to know more about her studies, and she wanted to reciprocate.  There was no way she wouldn’t put in the same effort he was into the relationship.  Now that she was with Elias, she wasn’t the most important person in her life anymore – it was him.  She needed him to know that.  She made sure to show it to him every day, through her actions, her words, and her priorities when she wasn’t engaging with school.  

“Everything okay?” he asked as he settled into his seat across from her after their kiss.

She nodded her head.  “Just reading about the Cuban Revolution.”

“Is it interesting?” he asked.

“Interesting enough,” she shrugged.  She began digging into her pasta in vodka sauce.  Now that Elias had finally mastered the art of cooking some pasta, and didn’t over or undercook it every time, she could enjoy him making dinner at least once or twice a week now.  Though the first time he cooked ravioli was an absolute fucking shit show (there was spinach and ricotta floating everywhere in the pot because he left them in too long and they all burst open), he’d gotten the hang of penne, spaghetti, and fettucine.  “How was the gym with Brock?”

“Same old,” he answered, eating his pasta.  “Grace told him how much you were screaming at the game the other night.”

Svea snorted.  She’s almost embarrassed herself by how much she was screaming and swearing.  She didn’t know what came over her.  “It was pretty bad.  I’m surprised she left with me, to be honest.  She wasn’t even that loud, and you know how she gets.”

“I can’t believe it took Vancouver to get you to scream at my games,” Elias quipped.

Svea laughed, but the comment panged her a little bit.  Growing up in Sweden, she was always at his games, but her head was, as Brigitte so lovingly put it, ‘always in a book instead of in his lap’.  It wasn’t that she didn’t care – because she did, she knew how much hockey meant to Elias – it was just that she had different interests.  But she was always there; she always supported him.  Suddenly, she wondered if that was enough.  “Did…did that make you mad?” she asked softly.

“Did what make me mad?”

“Me being quiet at your games growing up.  Me having a book in the stands and reading in between periods,” she said.  He knew because the girls told him as a means of gossip.  “Like, did you hate it?”

“Of course not,” he furrowed his brows.  “Why would I hate that?”

“I don’t know…”

“Svea, I hate nothing about you,” Elias said.  “Not even the fact that you’ve started to talk in your sleep sometimes.”

“I do not.”

“Yes you do.”

“Then what do I say?”

“Oooooh, Elias, right there.”

She kicked him underneath the table, but he was ready for it, grabbing her foot with his free hand.  “You’re an ass,” she sneered.

“So you don’t have wet dreams about me?”

“You wish,” she stuck her tongue out like a child, causing him to smile and laugh.  

“For what it’s worth,” he began, trailing his hand up her leg, “I didn’t care about any of that.  You reading at games or whatever.  You’re your own person, Svea.  I don’t care what anybody said.  The fact that you were there was enough for me – like, the fact that I could see you in the stands with my family or whatever.  When you made it back to Vaxjo after flying in from Vancouver, and you watched me score that game winning goal and then surprised me on the ice – Svea, that was, like, one of the greatest moments of my life.  And it wasn’t because I’d just won the championship.  It was because you were there for it.”

Svea smiled.  Elias knew to say all the right things, but what was better than just saying them was knowing that he meant them, fully and completely.  “I love you, Elias.”

“I love you too, Svea.  More than anything,”

There was a comfortable silence between them as they ate dinner, Svea’s foot still propped up in Elias’s lap after she’d tried to kick him.  “Are you going to be able to come to the game on Saturday?” he asked once they were almost finished.

She nodded.  “I’ll finish this reading tonight easily and I’ll be back yelling in no time.”

“Good,” he smiled.  “I like it when you’re loud.”

She kicked him again.

***

“Brock reminded me that Grace is setting the date soon for the next Parkinson’s gala,” Elias said later that night, after dinner and after clean up and Svea finished her reading and after they cuddled on the couch and after they watched a few episodes of Jeopardy at Svea’s request like an old married couple.  They’d gotten themselves ready for bed and Svea watched as Elias fluffed up their pillows while she pulled the covers back.  

“That’ll be fun,” Svea said.  “Every time we’ve gone it’s been a blast.  I can’t wait.”

“And we have Dice and Ice again this year too.  I wonder if they’ll make me play Family Feud again,” he mused as they both got into bed.

Svea giggled.  “Maybe this time you can announce to six hundred people that you finally have a girlfriend – oh wait, you already did that a few weeks ag—HEY!”

Elias pulled her into his body in one quick tug and wrapped his arms around her, peppering her face with kisses as she began to laugh at the sensation.  He flipped her around so she was beneath him.  “Yeah yeah, I’ve got a big mouth, I know,” he mumbled against the skin of her neck as he bit down on it gently.

“Mmm,” Svea hummed, enjoying the feeling like she always did.  “How about you remind me what else you can do with that mouth.”

A low chuckle erupted from deep within Elias.  “With pleasure,” he smiled devilishly.  Almost immediately, he shoved her old t-shirt (technically, his old t-shirt) up and over her head and moved down her body.  He hooked his fingers into the hem of her shorts and pulled them off too, watching as he saw a smirk appear on her face.  “What’s got you smiling, pretty girl?”

“You,” she purred.  “I’ll always regret waiting so long to be with you.  We could have had so much more time together.”

Elias brought himself back up, placing a tender kiss on her lips.  “Don’t regret that.  We have the rest of our lives together, pretty girl.  We always did.”

Svea smiled, pulling him down by the neck to kiss him again.  The universe knew that them being together was always endgame; it just took them longer to realize.  She liked Elias’s optimism – not focusing on what was in the past, but instead focusing on the future.  “Elias…” she mumbled in between kisses.

“Hmm?”

“Show me I’m yours,” she whispered.  She knew it would set him off completely, just like it did the first time, just like it did subsequent times since.  “Show me I’m yours, Elias.”

He audibly groaned, slipping his way back down her body before forcing her legs apart and lowering his face between them, lapping and sucking so expertly that Svea was squirming within no time.  Her pants and callouts of his name only fueled him as time went on, and when she ran her fingers through his blonde hair and tugged on it, he let out his own groan.

“Fuuuuuck,” she breathed out, tugging on his hair even more.  “You’re so…your tongue is so good Elias.”  He moaned at the sound of her voice, the vibrations causing her to squirm even more.  He brought his arm around her thigh and held her hips down.  It made her huff out in slight frustration.  “Elias.”

His only response was to push down harder.  Her response was to pull his hair as tight as she could and squeeze his head between her thighs.  All the while, he kept up his movements, looking up at her with his striking, beady blue eyes.  “You taste so sweet, pretty girl,” he mumbled against her wet lips.  “So sweet for me.”

“Elias—”

“Are you gonna cum on my face, pretty girl?”

Svea nodded her head fervently.  “I’m so close.”

“Mmmmm,” he hummed, the vibrations yet again making her squirm.  “Cum for me, Svea.”

Svea arched her back, and after a few short moments, she was screaming out his name, squeezing his head in between her thighs even tighter than before.  Elias kept lapping until she calmed down, sucking up the last of her juices before looking up at her again.  “I could taste you all day, pretty girl,” he mumbled against her lips, the last thing he did before moving up her body and placing open-mouthed kisses and dragging his lips along her stomach and up to her breasts.

“I need you inside of me right now,” she said, her breath hot and frantic as she moved to wrap her legs around him.  

“So impatient,” Elias mused.

“Fuck me, Elias.  I can’t wait anymore.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.  When she felt him enter her, quickly and in one swift movement, she dug her nails into the skin on his shoulder blades and almost immediately rocked her hips against his, trying to get him even deeper.  “Svea…” he groaned out, feeling how deep he was inside of her.  “Svea…fuck, you’re desperate, aren’t you?”

She nodded.  She couldn’t help it.  She was desperate.  She was always desperate for him.  Desperate for his voice, his touch, the sound of him, his smile, his laugh, how he filled her up, how he felt above her and beneath her – everything about him.  “You like it when I’m loud, right?” she asked.

Elias’s eyes bulged for a moment.  “Y—Yes.”

“You want me to be loud?”

His pupils dilated.  “Yes.”

“Let me ride you.”

Svea wrapped her arms around Elias so he would stay inside her before he turned onto his back.  She quickly got comfortable, adjusting slightly, and Elias brought his hands up and their hands intertwined, letting her lean against his elbows so she had something to brace against.  When she began to rock back and forth slowly, he let out a groan.  “You feel incredible, baby,” Svea said as she quickened her pace slightly.  

“You do, too,” Elias said quickly.  She began to moan loudly, like she knew he wanted and liked, and she could see his eyes practically roll to the back of his head.  Elias liked knowing that it was him who made her feel this way.  As she continued her noises, he didn’t know where to focus – her hips, her breasts, her eyes, how his cock had disappeared inside her – but he knew that everything felt good.  He was left speechless by everything.

She led his hands to cup her breasts, but he had other ideas.  Instead, he used his arms to push himself up so he could kiss them instead, his hands on her back.  He remembered back to their little rendezvous at the lake during Midsommar, what she’d done and the quiet confidence in which she’d done it.  He had obviously never done anything like that before.  “When we get married these are going to be all mine,” he mumbled against her breasts, licking at the space on her chest where he remembered his cum covering her.

“They already are,” Svea mumbled, lost in the feeling.  She brought her hands up to run through his hair so she could tug on it and so he could look her in the eye.  When he was, she said what she wanted to say – what she knew he wanted to hear.  “I’m all yours.”

Elias smiled.  “I’m yours and you’re mine.”

“I’m yours and you’re mine,” Svea repeated.

They kissed, wet and sloppy, and Svea could feel herself getting close again.  She dug her nails into the skin at the nape of Elias’s neck.  When he felt her walls tighten around him, and heard her cries of pleasure at the feeling, he came completely undone as well.  They clung on to each other, riding out their highs for a long as they could until they finally settled down, their breathing laboured and shaky, their chests heaving less and less as the time went by.  Neither let go of each other.  There was no need to.

Elias slipped out of her slowly, and Svea whimpered at the loss of feeling him fill her.  He wrapped his arms around her as he fell back slowly, laying them on the bed.  They stayed close, wrapped in each other, giving each other quick, soft kisses.  “I love you,” Elias mumbled, his voice tired.  

Svea smiled slightly.  “I love you too.”

>< >< >< >< ><

An advertising executive must schedule the advertising during a particular television show. Seven different consecutive time slots are available for advertisements during a commercial break, and are numbered one through seven in the order that they will be aired. Seven different advertisements – B, C, D, F, H, J, and K – must be aired during the show. Only one advertisement can occupy each time slot. The assignment of the advertisements to the slots is subject to the following restrictions:      • B and D must occupy consecutive time slots.      • B must be aired during an earlier time slot than K.      • D must be aired during a later time slot than H.      • If H does not occupy the fourth time slot, then F must occupy the fourth time slot.      • K and J cannot occupy consecutively numbered time slots.

Svea read over the logic puzzle three times, breathing harder every time.  She wrote the requisite lines and letters.  She moved on to the first questions.

1. Which of the following could be a possible list of the advertisements in the order that they are aired? a.  BDFHJCK b.  CJBHDKF c.  HBDFJCK d.  HDBFKJC e.  HJDBFKC

Svea tried not to panic as she tried to work out the first question based on the parameters presented to her.  When she took at her answer, then at the options, none of them matched.  She tried again.  No match again.  She tried not to panic irrationally, but when she tried a third time, she still couldn’t get the right answer.  She felt her cheeks heat up and her eyes start to well.  No.  No.  There’s no crying in doing logic puzzles.  She moved on to the next question, seeing if she could at least solve that one, but she couldn’t.  Okay, back to question one.  She tried a combination one more time and finally, finally found a match, so she circled the option.  

She checked her time.  Six minutes had passed, and she had five more questions to answer based on this logic puzzle alone.  On the LSAT, they got about eight minutes per entire puzzle and four puzzles, for a total of around 35 minutes for this section.  So she was severely behind.  Like, severely.  She looked at the note in the margins of her book.

This is generally considered one of the easier questions.

Svea whimpered.  Audibly.  She felt a few tears falling down her cheeks as she tried to move on to the second question, realizing it was now predicated upon the answer from the first.  Seven minutes.  And based on the wording of the question, her answer for the first one was wrong.  It wasn’t even possible.

She let out a sob.  

Eight minutes.  She’d officially already failed this section of the LSAT.  

As she tried to wipe her tears away with the backs of her hands, she heard the lightest knock on the door.  As she looked over, she saw Elias’s head peek through the doorway, a bowl in his hands.  “I brought you some raspberries,” he said softly, closing the door behind him.  “How’s it going?”

Svea shook her head and started to cry again.  “Elias…”

“Heeeyyyyy hey hey,” Elias cooed, rushing over to her and putting the bowl on the desk.  He pushed out her chair, moving it so she was facing him, and knelt down in front of her.  “What’s wrong?  What’s going on?”

“Elias, will you still love me if I fail?”

“Svea—”

“Be honest,” she interrupted.  “Will you still love me if I fail the LSAT and don’t get into law school and don’t get into grad school and just become a bum?  Will you?”

“Svea, don’t say stuff like that,” he said, running his hands up and down her thighs trying to sooth her.  

Svea shook her head fervently.  “I’m dumb.  I’m so dumb,” she whimpered out.

“You know you’re not dumb, Svea—”

“But I am!” she exclaimed.  “I couldn’t even do this logic puzzle in time.  I had eight minutes and I couldn’t do it.  And it’s one of the easier ones!  Imagine me sitting in that room trying to write the LSAT and I can’t even get past the logic puzzles!”

“Shhhhh,” he cooed, bringing his hands up to cup her face.  He began wiping her tears away with the pads of his thumbs, still kneeling in front of her.  “Svea, you know that I love you more than anything.  I’ll love you no matter what.”

“Even if I fail?”

“You won’t fail.  But even if you fail, yes, I will still love you,” he nodded, knowing it was what she needed to hear right now.  She wouldn’t have dropped it if he didn’t say those words.  

“And here you are, bringing me raspberries like a good boyfriend and I can’t even get a log—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Elias warned.  “Svea, it’s fine.  You’re probably just very tired.  You had a day full of classes, then homework, now this.  I bet when you have a fresh and well-rested brain tomorrow, it will be much easier for you.”

Svea whimpered again, wrapping her arms around Elias and squeezing him against her chest.  He was such a good boyfriend, always bringing her snacks or water or tea without her even having to ask, and she was just being a blubbering mess.  She’d missed some of his games lately due to her studying and she felt horrible about it, and it all led to this: he was the one still comforting her about the long-term goal of why she was even studying in the first place.  

“And Svea?”

“Hmmm?”

“You know I’ll always love you.  You know that you’re going to be successful.  This is just a little bump, that’s all.”

She took a moment to consider his words.  She knew he was right, but it took her a while to digest.  She hated that it did – that it took her so long – but her mind was off right now, overtired and overworked from a full day.  “Maybe I should go to bed,” she mumbled as her head rested in the crook of Elias’s neck.

Elias didn’t even have to say anything.  All he did was move to pick her up, her arms wrapping around his shoulders and her legs wrapping around his torso, and he carried her across the apartment to his bedroom, now their bedroom, with her face still tucked.  He could feel her tears on his skin, and when he lay her down gently on the bed, he made sure to wipe the rest of them away before he began undressing her, helping tug her shirt off and pulling off her jeans, leaving her in just her underwear.  He did the same quickly, stripping down to his boxers before climbing into bed and pulling the covers over them.  

They gravitated towards each other in bed like they always did, Elias wrapping an arm around her and Svea tangling their legs together.  He began running his fingers gently through her hair and could hear her sigh, like she was letting out all her frustrations, all her nerves, and all her stress.  “I love you, pretty girl,” he said softly as he continued his motions, knowing that it would soothe her, calm her down, just like it did for him when she did so.  It was one of the best feelings in the world, when he thought about it.  

“I love you too, even when I’m in my own head too much,” she responded, her voice soft and almost a whisper, but there was enough there.  “I love you more than you’ll ever know.”

>< >< >< >< ><

Back in her global uprisings course, Svea took a moment to stretch as the professor gave them a five minute bathroom and coffee break.  She debated on whether or not to go down to the main floor and get a coffee and croissant, or just stick it out until lunch time.  She made sure to save her notes before she closed her laptop.  

She’d finally gotten the hang of the logic puzzles and was doing them like crazy now.  She’d seen advertisements on the bulletin board on the main floor for LSAT prep classes, and she wondered if she should take another round of them, even though she’d taken them last year as well.  But then she had the fact that she needed to finish her application for her Master’s.  There were a few more things to do on the supplemental application and some other things she needed to perfect before submitting it.  She’d need someone to look it over.  She needed to make sure the professors she’d asked to be references actually wrote their letters.  She needed to—

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Francesca asked suddenly, snapping Svea from her thoughts.  

“I’m thinking about the LSAT,” Svea decided to be honest with her.  “The LSAT and my application to grad school.”

“The LSAT?  Grad school?” Francesca asked like it was the most absurd thing that Svea was continuing her education and applying to these programs.  “What’s the point, Svea?”

Svea furrowed her brows.  “What do you mean what’s the point?  I want to work in law and politics.  You know that.”

“I mean, what’s the point when you’re with Elias now?”

Svea’s body stiffened at Francesca’s words.  “What do you mean?  I have to make a living, Francesca.”

“Do you?  Do you really?  Isn’t Elias gonna be signing, like, a huge contract at the end of this year?  Do you honestly think you’re going to need to work to support yourself for the rest of your life when he’s going to be making, like, ten million dollars a year?  Minus endorsements?  I mean doesn’t he already support you?”

Svea was taken aback by Francesca’s line of questioning, and, to be honest, deeply hurt by it as well.  Did Svea give off the airs and graces that she was fine with being a kept woman?  Had she ever made it seem like she didn’t want to do anything with her life?  That she didn’t care?  She didn’t think she did ever.  But for some reason, Francesca was bringing it up.  “Francesca, I can’t let my boyfriend support me for the rest of my life.”

“You can’t?  Because I can,” she quipped.  She said it in a joking manner but Svea knew she was completely serious.  The next line of questioning confirmed it for her.  “I mean, does Elias have any teammates?  Brock Boeser maybe?  Or is he still with that Gillespie girl?  The billionaire?”

Svea furrowed her brows.  She didn’t like the direction this conversation was going, and she didn’t want Francesca anywhere near Brock or Grace.  “They’re still together.  He’s madly in love with her,” she mumbled before turning away from her and back to her laptop.

“Damn.  Should’ve told me you were dating Elias earlier so I could’ve jumped at the chance.”

“Hmm,” Svea hummed, just to acknowledge what she said.  She began typing something so Francesca would leave her alone.

When class was finished, Svea took out her phone and immediately texted Elias.

I’m going to be the most horrible housewife on the planet

Svea wtf are you talking about

Francesca said today I didn’t have to apply to law school or grad school because now I have you to take care of me It was the stupidest thing I think I’ve ever heard

Not even thirty seconds later, her phone began to ring.  When she picked it up, Elias didn’t even greet with any formalities.  “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, too,” he said.  “I mean, who says something like that?”

“Someone who wishes she was kept, I guess.  I mean, she asked about Brock afterwards and I had to break her heart and tell her that he’s still madly in love with Grace.”

“What do you mean kept?”

“It’s a saying.  It’s like a girl who has a nice and lavish lifestyle because of a rich man,” she explained.

Elias was silent on the other end trying to understand what Svea was explaining to him.  “Did she just call you a prostitute?  Or one of those sugarbaby things or whatever?”

Svea snorted.  “In her own way, probably.  I mean, when you think about it…” Svea tried to joke, seeing the humour in the situation, finally.  Elias did pay for most things and Svea did enjoy a nice, comfortable life because of it – an apartment in Yaletown, access to a luxury car, an $8000 gold bracelet screwed onto her wrist…

But that didn’t mean she was kept.  They were equal partners in their relationship.  There was no power dynamic.  Elias didn’t do those things and provide her with what he did because he wanted to control her, or because he wanted to have sex with her, or because he wanted to keep her at home all the time doing nothing besides looking pretty and being ready in bed for him.  He did it because he genuinely loved her, because she was his best friend, his soulmate, his sun and his moon and his stars, and because he could, because what the hell else was he going to do with all this money?  Spend it on himself?  He already did that and there was a ton left over.  Who better to spend it on than Svea?  

“What is it with everyone trying to get into our business?  We’re happy this way.  It works for us.  What the fuck does it matter?” Elias asked.  “And why is everybody so obsessed with money?”

“It makes the world turn, Elias.”

She heard him huff on the other end.  “Just…don’t worry about what she says.  It doesn’t matter.  You’re going to law school or grad school or you’re doing what you want to do and that’s that.”

“Why did I have to love debating in high school?  Why did I have to like law and politics?  Why couldn’t I have loved to bake and like…I don’t know, opened up some hipster coffee shop here or in Stockholm and just made coffee and cake and cookies all day?”

“Because then you wouldn’t have been Svea,” Elias said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.  “You would have been someone else.  And I don’t know who that someone else is, but it’s not you.”

And he was right.  He was so fucking right that Svea was taken aback by the simplicity of his words but just how deep they were; how they hit the nail right on the head and how they were just so…right.  She wouldn’t be the same person if she never debated, if she was never a precarious kid checking out books at the library.  She wouldn’t be the same person if she had baked cakes and cookies and opened some hipster coffee shop with vegan treats made exclusively from organic ingredients.  She wouldn’t be the same Svea.  She wouldn’t be the Svea Elias loved.  She wouldn’t be the Svea her friends loved.  She wouldn’t be the Svea her family loved, that Elias’s family loved.  She almost teared up for how right he was.  “Thank you, Elias,” she said softly, not knowing what else to say.

“For what?”

“For loving me the way I am.”

She could practically hear him smile bashfully on the other end.  “I love you for the way you’ve always been, too.  And the way you’ll be.”

She knew he would.  That was the best part.

>< >< >< >< ><

Svea clicked send.  

Your application to the University of British Columbia’s Master of Public Policy and Global Affairs has been received.  You will receive a confirmation email with your application number shortly.  

She took a deep breath.  Now she waited.

***

Svea clicked send.

Your application to the Peter A. Allard School of Law at the University of British Columbia has been received.  You will receive an email shortly confirming your application.

She took a deep breath.   Now she waited.

>< >< >< >< ><

“It would be chic to wear black, right?” Svea asked Grace as they scoured through the racks of dresses at Holt Renfrew, the iconic upscale Canadian department store, looking for something to wear to the upcoming Dice & Ice fundraiser the Canucks held annually.  Grace loved to shop, and she was good at it, so Svea was confident they’d find something to wear.

“Well, it’s always chic to wear black,” Grace said as she pulled out a beige coloured, skin-tight dress.  She took a good, long look at it before deciding it wasn’t the one and pushing it back in.  “But you need to spruce it up a bit.”

“Spruce it up?”

“You’ve got a great body and you need to show it off.  You’ve been wearing your knit sweaters for so long that I’ve forgotten what your boobs look like, Svea.”

She snorted.  Leave it to Grace, the professional dancer with the near perfect body, to mention her boobs.  “Grace, I barely have boobs.”

“Doesn’t matter.  You can still show off your figure.  It’s to die for.  And I’m sure Petey would love it.”

Well, that was true.  Svea kept that in her mind as they continued to look through racks and racks of dresses, never quite finding the right one, though they pulled some to try on just in case.  Grace always had something to say about the dresses Svea pulled – “You’re going to look like my uncle’s fourth ex-wife if you wear that” or “That looks like something a retired art teacher would wear”.  Svea couldn’t help but laugh.  She was thankful to have Grace along for this ride since Grace had a sense of style and what would look good on her body; if she wasn’t here, Svea wouldn’t probably end up picking a dress that made her look like a 17th century peasant woman from Croatia ready to milk the cows.  As Grace would say.

They verged into the designer departments.  Grace picked out a dress from Dolce and Gabbana, and handed one from Gucci to Svea.  They checked in Yves Saint Laurent and Versace but there was nothing.  Chloe.  Louis Vuitton.  Celine.  Miu Miu.

“What about this one?” Svea asked, pulling out a gorgeous dress from the Miu Miu rack.

From down the line, Grace looked up.  “It’s black.”  Svea took it off the bar completely, holding it against her body, showing its crystal-studded top.  “Ooooooooh,” Grace’s jaw dropped at the detailing.  She immediately let go of the dress she’d pulled out and walked over to Svea.  “Now that’s a good one.”

“You think?”

“Mhm,” she nodded her head fervently.  “Let’s go try these all on now.  I need to see that dress on you.”

The first few dresses Svea tried on and modeled for Grace didn’t “work”, according to her.  There was something off about them – a hemline, a cut, the fact that it made Svea look like a nun – that sent them back on the hanger.  But when Svea put on the Miu Miu dress she pulled, even just seeing herself in the dressing room with it half on, she knew it would look good.  “Um…I think I’m going to need to take off my bra for this one,” she called out to Grace is the dressing room beside her.  

“Then take it off.”

“There’s gonna be a lot of side-boob.  I’m not sure that’s appropriate for a gala raising money for children…”

“Nothing a little double-sided boob tape can’t fix,” Grace retorted.  “Now get out here so I can see.”

Svea pulled back the curtain.  When she did, Grace’s jaw dropped.  Grace was standing in a beautiful dress of her own, but she didn’t even care – her full attention was on Svea now, and the dress she was wearing.  “Oh…my…God,” she gave Svea a complete up-down, a giant smile forming on her face afterwards.  “This is perfect.  This is it.”

“But what about this?” Svea moved to show Grace her side profile.

“Like I said, boob tape.  But we’ll bring it to a tailor as well.  We want this thing pinched in and showing off that body.”  Grace approached her, moving them so that they stood in front of a mirror together with Grace behind her.  Svea could feel her hands on the low backline of the dress.  Grace tugged on it.  “See?” she said, getting Svea to look in the mirror.  Even just the simple pinch covered up some of the side boob – enough that Svea felt more comfortable and more appropriate.  “Now imagine what my tailor can do.  This thing will fit you like a glove when he’s done with it.”

Svea nodded her head.  She did look good.  And she had a feeling Elias would like the open back and the fact it would be tight.  Elias liked her in anything but her dressing up did something to him.  He would treat her as a present he needed to unwrap.  “Is there any point in trying on anything else?” she smiled.

Grace smiled back.  “No way.”

***

“D’you ever think about marriage?” Grace asked suddenly as she and Svea ate lunch at Coast, raw oysters in between them arranged perfectly on a platter.  

Svea was taken aback by the question, which was posed out of the blue.  She thought anybody would be, all things considered.  “Uh…sometimes.  Why?”

“I just think of you and Elias a lot. And Brock and I, obviously, but more so you and Elias.  Because, like, we both know you guys are going to get married one day.  I mean, so will Brock and I…but…I don’t know.  Do you ever just think of what marriage will be like?”

Svea knew what Grace was trying to get at.  In her own roundabout way, she was expressing a deep-rooted fear.  Not of marriage in and of itself – the act of it, of getting a legal document and signing it and being attached to a person through marriage – but the dynamics of it instead.  How to make it work.  Communication.  Trust.  Traveling.  Schedules.  Children.  Her parents notoriously didn’t speak to each other after their horrible divorce and used her and their lawyers as pawns.  She got along well with her step-brothers and all was well and fine now, as an adult, but divorce traumatizes kids.  “I do.”

“What do you think your marriage with Elias will be like?”

“Comfortable,” Svea said without any thought.  She felt the need to clarify.  “I don’t mean that in a bad way.  I just mean that like…I think it will be easy.  Easier.  We’ve known each other our whole lives and our relationship is already strong.  I don’t think that signing a document and becoming husband and wife will drastically change anything in our relationship.”

“Because it’s bound to happen,” Grace said.

“Exactly,” Svea nodded her head.  “Like I know it will change, but not by much.  And Elias and I talk about what we want and what we want to do, and we sort of just, like…already know.  So it’s not going be this, like, seismic shift.  He’ll still be Elias.  He’ll just be my husband, Elias.”

Grace nodded her head.  She thought long and hard about what Svea was saying.  She envied Svea, somewhat, because she also had good role models in her parents to base a marriage off of.  Grace didn’t really have that luxury – though she had her mom and her step-dad now, but that was different.  Because after everything that happened in the divorce, Grace couldn’t look at marriage the same way.  “Do you ever look to your parents and what they went through?”

“Somewhat.  I mean my mom uprooted her whole life for my dad.  She moved to a foreign country and learned the language and brought up two daughters in a small town…I don’t think they would have lasted if she didn’t know my dad loved her unconditionally like Elias loves me now,” Svea explained.  “I mean they obviously weren’t perfect but they provide a great example.  Same with Elias’s parents.  I think they provided a good example for him.”

“When I think about my mom and dad, and what happened with them, it doesn’t make me scared about Brock and I, because I know we’re different,” Grace began.  “But what gets me scared is, like, the possibility.  Like there’s always a possibility we could end up like them.”

Svea shook her head.  “You can’t wage your happiness on a possibility, Grace,” she said sternly.  “If we go by that logic, of possibilities, that means there’s a possibility that Elias would cheat on me and break us up.”

“That would never happen.  Elias would never do that to you.”

“Exactly,” Svea said.  “You and Brock are nothing like your parents.  So let me ask you the same question.  What do you think your marriage with Brock will be like?”

Unlike Svea, who answered with one word in a heartbeat, Grace thought about it for a while.  It wasn’t because she wasn’t confident in their relationship – she was – and it wasn’t because she couldn’t see herself married to Brock – she could – but it was more so because what she had with Brock was indescribable.  It had all happened pretty quickly, but everything about it felt right, and felt like it was supposed to happen.  Marriage would feel the same way.  Having kids would feel the same way.  “Comfortable,” Grace repeated Svea’s word.  “Because he gives me a sense of comfort than no-one else has.  He makes me feel safe and happy all the time.  And because we want the same things.  We always have.”

Svea smiled.  “See?  Comfort isn’t a bad thing.  Not everything has to be a rollercoaster.”

Grace nodded.  She knew Svea was right.  She just wished she didn’t have such bad examples to base a marriage on.  Svea was wise and knew these things because she had good examples.  “Has Elias ever brought up marriage?”

Svea smirked slightly, grabbing her water to take a sip so she could avoid the question.  Grace wiggled in her seat excitedly, knowing the answer based on her response.  “In passing, mostly.  We were in bed once, too.”

“Oh God, did he propose once when you two were having sex?”

Svea snorted.  “No, thank God.  Nothing awkward like that.  It was more so, like…” she trailed off, wondering if she should even say anything.  She told Grace pretty much everything these days.  “When we get married, so and so…” she mimicked Elias’s voice.  

“Ah, I get it,” Grace nodded.  “I once gave Brock a blowjob so good he called me his wife afterwards.”

Svea burst out laughing, which caused Grace to laugh as well.  Both of the girls had to wipe away tears and take a drink of water before they could resume talking.  “Brock would totally do something like that,” Svea commented.  

“I know.  He’s so predictable,” Grace rolled her eyes playfully.  “Is it weird these things happen with our boyfriends during sex?  I swear they only share one brain cell.”

“They definitely do, but we love them for it.”

>< >< ><

“Do you want to marry me?”

If Svea was a dog, her ears would have perked up like someone was opening the treat bag.  She and Elias had finished dinner and had been cuddling on the couch when Svea thought they needed a snack and went to go microwave a bag of popcorn.  The question didn’t make her nervous because she knew the answer.  If anything, she wondered what exactly it would lead to.  “Of course I do.”

“Now or eventually?” he asked again.

“Eventually,” she answered.

“Why not now?”

Svea poured the popcorn into the bowl.  “Because I don’t know what I’m going with my life yet, and I think it’s important to establish that before I get married.”

“So if you establish it, we would be able to get married?” he asked, using her logic.

“Eliiiiaaaaas…” she elongated his name, taking the bowl and bringing it back to the couch.  He sounded like a four year old with all of his questions.  “What’s this about?”

“I’m just wondering when we can get married,” he said like it was so simple.  

“Why are you wondering that?”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Elias, we’re only twenty-two,” Svea said.  She wanted to turn the tables.  “And besides, do you want to marry me?”

“Of course I do.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re my soulmate,” he said automatically.  “Because I love you more than anything.  And we waited long enough to get together, so why wait to get married?”

“Elias…” she whispered.  Instead of sitting down by his side like she had been, she straddled his lap.  It brought them much closer, of course, and Svea could look at him face-to-face.  She brought her hands up to cradle his face.  “Listen to me.  I love you.  I want to marry you.  There’s no doubt in my mind about that, okay?  None whatsoever.  But there are a lot of things happening this year between me and my future and you and your contract,” she said.  “I feel…I feel like once all of that is…I don’t know, settled, then we can start seriously think about getting married.  And I can’t do that when everything is up in the air with me.”

Elias moved into her touch, eventually nodding his head.  He looked so cute and his lips were so pouty, Svea felt like kissing him right then.  But she knew she couldn’t until they finished their very serious conversation.  “I just don’t want to wait.  I’ve already waited too long for you, you know?” he asked.

“I know.  But I’m not going anywhere.”

“You better not be,” he mumbled, leaning forward to rest his head against her chest.  She moved her hands so one was still cradling his face while she ran her fingers through his hair with the other.  “I hope you don’t think I’m pressuring you or anything.”

“You’re not.”

“I just really want to marry you.  I really want you to be my wife.  I know it’s probably stupid of me but I don’t care how young we are.  I would’ve married you at eighteen.”

Svea smiled.  “If we hadn’t denied our feelings for each other we probably would have been dumb and done it,” she laughed.  “But you’ve gotta get me a ring first.”

“Oh, that’s no problem.  I’ll make sure the ring is bigger than your eyeball.”

“And you still gotta kneel.  I want the whole kit and kaboodle.  I don’t care that I know it’s happening.  You still have to kneel and ask me.”

She felt Elias smile against her, giggling slightly.  “I plan on it.  I meant it when I said that time in Stockholm wasn’t the last time I would kneel in front of you.”

“Good,” Svea smiled.  

“But we can still get a pet, right?”

Svea snorted.  She was very, very, very well aware of how much he wanted a pet.  With Diesel, Whiskey, and Tequila far away in Sweden with Fanny and Emil, he had limited access to animals.  And after spending practically the entire summer with them, he was desperate for some animal contact.  Grace bringing Pippa around was always nice, but it wasn’t enough.  He couldn’t cuddle with Pippa whenever he wanted.  Pippa wasn’t at his home.  “Elias.”

“What if I brought home an iguana one day?”

“No,” she said loudly, pulling away from him so his head wasn’t on her chest anymore.  He had a cheeky smile on his face.  “I told you to stop sending me reptiles to adopt.”

“But what if—”

“If you bring home an iguana or a reptile or God forbid a snake, you’re not allowed to marry me anymore.”

“Whooooooaaaaaa whoa whoa hey hey hey, let’s not get crazy here,” he held up his hands.  “Okay, I’ll stop sending the reptiles.  But that means I can send you more dogs.”

“Okay, deal,” she smiled, finally getting her opportunity to kiss him.  “You’re lucky I’m already crazy for you, because you’re gonna drive me crazy.”

“Hmmm,” he hummed happily, snaking his hands up her shirt.  “I’m crazy for you too.  And I can think of a few crazy things we can get up to right now.”

>< >< >< >< ><

“Elias—”

“—Svea—”

“—Elias we’re already late—”

“—Pull up your dress—"

“—Eli—oh, oh Jesus,” Svea felt herself getting pushed against their bedroom’s glass window.  Elias was behind her pulling her dress up and bunching it around her hips.  She could hear the buckle of his belt clink as he rushed to get it unbuckled.  “Elias—”

“Bend over.”

She let out a hot sigh as she did what she was told, trying to grip onto the glass as she bent over slightly, her ass sticking out and grinding on Elias’s already hard member.  She could feel his hand on her ass, slipping her lace panties to the side.  She’d bought them specifically for tonight.  No set, because she wasn’t wearing a bra (only boob tape, as per Grace and her tailor).  She’d planned on surprising Elias after the gala but he apparently had other plans.  She felt his fingers play with her folds, letting out a mewl at his teasing to get her wet, eventually slipping two fingers inside of her, causing her to cry out.  “That feels good, Elias,” she whispered, looking back at him.

“You like that?” he asked, to which she nodded her head.  “You think looking that sexy in this dress wasn’t gonna make me do this?”

She smiled slightly.  “I knew it would.  Just thought you’d be able to wait,” she smiled devilishly.

“Nuh uh,” Elias shook his head, curling his fingers and making her visibly shiver.  “No waiting.  Can’t wait.”

“Then fuck me already.”

Elias entered her with such force that they crashed together against the glass.  Svea let out a loud moan as he filled her up, feeling his hot breath right behind her ear as her own hot breath fogged up the glass in front of her mouth.  She absolutely loved the feeling of him filling her up – always had, always would – but this was different.  This was hot and fast and raw and rough, and she liked it, God did she like it.  “Fill me up, Elias,” she breathed out.  “Fill me up and fuck me.”

He crashed into her hips again, and she sent out another shout.  His body pressed up against hers gave her little room to move but she liked it.  Another crash.  Another shout.  Another crash.  Another shout.  On and on and on, the more shouts and moans escaped her body without her having any control over them.  On and on and on, she got louder with each passing one.  He could see her knuckles turning white from trying to grip the glass unsuccessfully.  “You like being fucked like this?” he mumbled into her ear.

“Yeeesssssssss,” she nodded.  

“How much?”

“So much,” she breathed out.  “I love it when you fuck me hard, Elias.  I love it.  It’s so good.  It’s so fucking good.”

It wasn’t meant to last long – rendezvouses like this never did – and so with a bite of the neck and an arch of the back and a slip of Elias’s hand around to her core, rubbing and teasing, Svea came undone, coming loudly and shaking as she tried to keep her balance.  She could feel his breaths shorten, and soon after, he came inside of her, hot and wet and causing her own orgasm to last longer.  As they tried to catch their breaths, Svea could feel Elias’s lips on the open skin of her back, placing soft, tender, loving kisses along it as they came down from their highs.  

Elias’s lips moved from her spine to her shoulder blades and along her neck.  “I love you,” he whispered softly, placing a quick kiss on her jawline.  

The fact that he was still inside her made it that much more tender to her.  With her skirt still bunched up and the heat still pulsating in her core – evidence of what they’d just done – it was a nice bring-me-down, a return to reality for Svea who had just been seeing stars thanks to her boyfriend.  “I love you too.”

When he softened and he finally slipped out of her, she whimpered as she always did at the loss, though she knew that more would be waiting for her later.  She adjusted her underwear upon hearing Elias’s belt clink again.  After rearranging themselves, they looked at each other to see the other perfectly well-kept, as if Elias didn’t just fuck her against the window.  Elias had a smile on his face – a proud one, not one filled with lust like minutes before.  “We should get down to the car,” he said, though neither of them bothered to move.  “You do look beautiful,” he added.

“We clean up well,” Svea smiled back.  She stepped forward to help him arrange his tie and collar.  

“I can’t wait to see you in a wedding dress,” Elias said, looking down at her.

Svea looked up.  “Yeah?”

He nodded, clasping her hand in his.  “Yeah.”

***

“Svea, you look fantastic!” Jacob Markstrom smiled as he bent down to hug her.  Almost the entire team and their significant others had sad variations of the same thing to her as they saw her, so she knew she had picked the right dress.  She and Elias were one of the last couples to arrive, but it seemed like things were running slightly behind schedule anyway because of people trying to find their seats in the giant room.  It saved them, really.

“Thanks Jacob,” Svea smiled.  “You look quite dapper yourself.  A change from the scruffy bear you turn into when we’re back in Sweden.”

He let out a hearty laugh before moving on to greet Elias.  Svea looked around the room to see it already almost full of people mingling.  The stage was lit up in blue and green lights, and the DJ was playing music in the background of everything else that was happening.  There were already food stations open in the middle of the room.  Svea wondered if the boys could eat before they had to go their designated stations – she knew Elias and Brock were going to be set up in the photobooth part just like last year.  That meant she and Grace could gossip and get a good talk in before dinner, where they would inevitably be separated at different tables.  

About five minutes after Svea and Elias arrived, Brock and Grace did too.  They made their rounds with the team.  When Grace approached Svea, she gave her a good up-down.  “You look phenomenal,” she said before going in to hug her.  “Was Petey able to keep his hands off you?” she whispered in her ear.

Svea giggled.  “No.”

Grace nodded knowingly as she pulled away from the hug.  “Brock wasn’t either.”

Soon, the boys were called to their “stations” and Grace and Svea found their tables before going to the bar.  A lot of people were approaching Grace because they recognized her from her father, and they asked questions about her and her initiatives and her uncles as Svea stood awkwardly with her, barely acknowledged or subtly acknowledged with just a nod of the head.  Grace knew how to work a room, so it was fine, and she tried to include Svea into the conversations as much as possible, but people weren’t interested in her as much as they were interested in Grace.  It was fine.  Grace came from a prominent family of billionaires who were famous in Vancouver for their philanthropy.  Svea was just…Svea.  To be honest, she somewhat liked it.  She could never be in the “limelight”, so to speak, as Grace was.  That’s why if she went into politics, she’d be an advisor.  There was no way she’d run for public office, even though she could debate better than the best politicians.

At one point, Svea and Grace unfortunately got stuck with quite the…character.  Young, brash, and somehow invited to a gala that benefitted children, he was making jokes left, right, and centre.  Most of them inappropriate.  Both girls wished he noticed their awkward laughs and buzzed off, but such was not the case.  He just had to chat up the daughter of Hamish Gillespie.  

“You girls having a good time?” Brock’s voice was heard suddenly as he crept up behind them, putting his hand on the small of Grace’s back.  Elias wasn’t far behind, smiling slightly.  

“Whooooa ho ho!  Brock Boeser!” the man exclaimed, doing one of those slap-shaking of hands boys always did with each other – if they were friends.  Brock had no idea who this man was.  “What’s up, Boes?  Just talking to your girl here about where the Gillespie’s are donating money next.”

“Hmm, really?” Brock said, eyeing Grace and seeing the look she was giving him.  “You’re talking to Grace about it?”

“Yeah, your girl.”

Elias watched as Grace rolled her eyes.  “I was just about to say it’ll probably be another arts centre somewhere,” she said curtly.

“And what about you?” he nodded his head towards Svea.  “Raya, was it?”

“Svea,” she deadpanned.  

“Svea’s looking to do public policy and work in politics,” Elias interjected, saying the information proudly.  

The man laughed out loud.  Like, actually laughed out loud upon hearing the news.  “You gonna be a political husband, Petey?  The Good Husband?  Like that TV show?” he joked.

“I don’t get it,” Svea interrupted before Elias could respond.  She knew what she had to do: she had to use the technique of playing dumb and not understanding the “joke” in order to have someone awkwardly explain why they thought their racist/sexist/misogynist/ableist “joke” was funny, thus shining a light on their horrible character.  She could bask in the awkwardness of them stumbling over their own words and seeing how truly ridiculous and stupid they really were.  “Can you explain that to me?”

She watched as the man’s face fell slightly.  “Oh, you know,” he tried to play it off.  “It’s just a joke.”

“What’s the joke?”

Now his face really dropped, but he still tried to keep a smile on his face, which just made him look completely like that Chrissy Teigen meme.  “It’s just…you know…”

“I don’t know.”

The man shifted awkwardly on his feet.  “Petey doesn’t need his girl working in politics,” he said.  “What are you even gonna do in politics anyway?  How’s Petey gonna feel about that?  Having his girl running around with a bunch of politicians?”

“I’m not exactly sure where you’re going with this,” Svea said.  She couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth.  “What exactly are you trying to achieve?  Please explain to me how having a successful wife is so threatening to a man’s ego?”

“Does he need the trouble?” he continued.  “You can’t be out there…you…I mean, shouldn’t you just do what all the other wives and girlfriends do?  Be with the kids and tend to the house like a good wife?  Petey is the important one here.”

Svea was so shocked her jaw didn’t drop.  She closed her jaw, curtly, and closed her mouth, curtly, out of fear of saying something she might regret.  It was Brock who had to intervene.  “I think it’s best you leave now,” he said as calmly as possible.

“I—It’s not—”

“Leave,” Grace stressed.  

The man scoffed and walked off.  Svea could feel Elias grab her hand and squeeze it.  He had an angry look on his face, understandably, as he watched the guy walk off, back to his table and back to his group.  Elias would make sure to walk by the table to see the company they came from so he could make a complaint.  “What a fucking asshole,” he mumbled.

“What a crock of shit,” Grace piped up even louder than Elias.  She looked up at Brock.  “Can we kick him out?  I’m serious.  Can we go speak to someone so he’s thrown out?  Let’s go.”

“It’s fine,” Svea said.  

“But Svea—”

“Honestly, it’s fine,” she stressed.  “I’m going to be a woman in politics.  This won’t be the last time somebody is going to make a comment like that.”  Grace was still visibly mad.  So was Brock.  But they listened to Svea’s wish and didn’t pursue it any further.  “Let’s go sit.”

***

Despite the man’s horrible comments, Svea forgot about them for the duration of the gala and had an amazing time.  There were some hilariously funny moments that the organization put the players through, and Svea was laughing almost the entire night.  She had some great talks afterwards, as well, with Jacob and Troy and Bo and Holly, and when the night ended, she was tired but happy as she and Elias made their way back home.  Grace suggested they go for late-night pizza but Svea was too tired.  They promised Grace brunch the next morning instead, which was readily agreed upon.  

“I appreciate that you don’t expect that life from me,” Svea whispered as she stood in their bedroom in front of their mirror, Elias behind her unzipping her dress.  She’d already been to the bathroom to wash off her makeup.

He knew exactly what she was talking about.  He honestly wondered when she was going to bring it up.  They’d been through this discussion months earlier when Francesca made her comments.  He couldn’t believe they had to put up with them again.  “I know you do,” he said from behind her.

“I just…I haven’t gone to university and pursued a life and career in public policy or law just to be called your girlfriend and become…become a…a trophy wife!  A wag!” her anger was coming through now.  “And I know I shouldn’t be angry and—and I’m not, I swear, because I know how ridiculous he was, but I…still.”

“I get it.  It’s okay,” Elias said as he finished unzipping her dress.  “You know I’d never want to dull your shine, Svea.  I never want you to settle for anything you don’t want because I know you don’t want me to do that either.”

“You don’t…” she stopped herself, thinking if she should even ask the question, since he posed the same one to her when they were in Sweden after the entire Soren debacle.  “You don’t think I’m holding you back, right?”

“How would you?” he asked, his tone showing he thought it was the most absurd idea on the planet.

“From like, doing stuff with your friends.  Going out, having fun…I don’t know Elias.  Normal guy stuff.  Normal hockey guy stuff,” she clarified.

He’d been shaking his head since her first word.  “No,” he said definitively.  He dress fell to the floor, leaving Svea standing in front of the mirror in just her lace underwear.  “I see what some of my friends and teammates have gotten up to on the road and I don’t want that for me.  The only things I want in my life are my family, hockey, and you.  There’s nothing else I need.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive,” he nodded.  “You keep me grounded, Svea.  I don’t need to do that shit when I have you at home.”

“I just don’t want you to miss out,” she said.

“I’m not missing out.  Trust me.  I still have my fun but I have it on my terms.”

Svea internalized his words and nodded her head.  She turned around and began helping him undress, undoing his tie and the buttons on his dress shirt before moving to his belt, the clinking of the metal reminding her of their previous activities just hours ago.  “I know that you love me.  And you know that I love you.  I just want to make sure you’re living the life you want because I know you want me to live the life that I want.  Which is why I’m comfortable with telling you the next thing I’m going to say.”

“Which is?”

“If we get married, we’re not having kids anytime soon.  I’m not even entertaining the idea,” she said, looking him straight in the eye.  “Like, it’s not on the table.  It’s not an option.  I’m going to school and I’m working.  And when I’m ready, we’re having kids.”

Again, Elias was nodding from the beginning of her first words.  “I’m fine with that.  I—yes, I’m fine with that.”  

“You’re sure?”

“Positive,” he kept nodding as she pushed his dress shirt back with her hands, letting it fall to the floor as well.  “There’s no way I can even think about taking care of a kid right now anyway, so there’s no way I’m gonna do that to you.  I wouldn’t put that on you while I go live my dreams.  You have to live your dreams too.”  He bent down slightly to give her a light kiss on the tip of her nose.  “I love you.”

“I love you too.”  

That night, as Svea was on top of him, under him, on her hands and knees for him, spooning him, and everything in between; as every orgasm coursed through her body from the top of her head to the tips of her toes like a tidal wave, leaving her a shaking, moaning, mewling, whimpering mess, she was shown time and time again how much Elias loved her, how much he adored her, how much he would do anything for her; and she was shown, more than anything, that they were in this together.

>< >< >< >< ><

Dear Miss Nilsson,

Congratulations!  We are pleased to offer you acceptance into the Peter A. Allard School of Law…

***

Dear Miss Nilsson,

Upon review of your application, we are pleased to offer you acceptance to the University of British Columbia’s Master of Public Policy and Global Affairs…

>< >< >< >< ><

“Stella!  Stella!  Speak!”

“Brrrrrrrraaaaark!”

“Gooood girl, Stella!” Svea gave her a treat.  “Okay, now twirl!” she did the hand motion, and Stella spun around and sat down when she was finished.  “What a good girl you are, Stella!”

“RrrrrBARK!”

Svea watched as Elias came up behind Stella and picked her up in one swift movement, swooping her up in his arms as he brought her up to his face.  He snuggled his face into hers, her wet nose tickling his skin before she started licking his face.  Svea laughed at the sight, and soon Elias was laughing too because Stella wouldn’t stop.  “You’re just like mommy, Stella.”

“HEY!” Svea opposed, pinching him on his side and causing him to wince.  “That’s not very nice.”

“It’s true though.”

“So what if it is,” she mumbled as she watched their puppy continue to lick his face.  “We should put her harness on her now if we’re going to take her to the park.”

“But before that,” Elias said, placing Stella back down on the floor before walking over to their fridge.  He bent down to open the freezer and took out a bottle of champagne.  Stella waddled over to him, trying to see what else was in the freezer.  “What’s that?” Svea asked as he set the bottle down on the counter.  It was an expensive bottle too – he’d really gone all out.

“You didn’t think I’d just give you that necklace to celebrate you getting into your programs?” he asked with a smirk on his face.  He took out two champagne flutes from a cabinet and set them down on the counter.  

Svea touched the necklace sitting pretty around her neck – the Cartier Love necklace in yellow gold with diamonds, of course to match her bracelet that she hadn’t taken off since.  “Elias…”

“And I know you still have to think about which one you’re going to choose,” he said as he took the foil off the top and began to uncork the bottle, “but we’re still going to celebrate.  Because you’re my Svea, and I love you more than anything.”

Svea bent down to pick up Stella and cradle her in her arms as Elias poured the champagne into the flutes.  “I did choose,” she said softly.  “I came to the decision mentally, like, half an hour ago and I was going to tell you at the park.”

“Oh yeah?  And?” he asked as he finished pouring.

She took a deep breath.  “The Master of Public Policy and Global Affairs.”

Elias smiled from ear to ear, handing her one of the flutes to hold.  He stepped towards her and wrapped an arm around her, cradling her and Stella against him.  “To you, my pretty girl,” he said softly as he looked down at her.  “My moon, my stars, my Svea.”

>< >< >< >< ><

@ThomasDrance: BREAKING: Elias Pettersson has signed a contract with the Vancouver Canucks.  More to come shortly.

@ThomasDrance: Sounds like a long-term deal.  Elias is staying.  Canucks fans rejoice.

@ThomasDrance: Somebody on the media beat just screamed.  Another danced.  One is just smiling as he’s staring down at his phone.  Just in case you were wondering how happy the people of Vancouver are.

>< >< >< >< ><

“You guys want to meet up on…let’s say Saturday?” Svea asked Grace on the phone.  She was lying on the couch with Elias giving her a foot massage and Stella sleeping on her chest.  

“Yeah, of course.  Pippa down!” she asserted.  “What were you thinking?”

“We kind of want to go super-fancy,” Svea said, knowing that Grace would be able to help with that.  “Like, really nice outfits.  And I want Brock in a suit.”

“I’ll make reservations at Hawksworth,” Grace said like it was the easiest thing in the world – because it was for her.  Everyone else would need to wait weeks.  But not her.  “And I’ll stuff Brock too-many-cookies-gut into a suit, no problem.”

“Make the reservation for 1:30 in the afternoon.  But can we meet at 11?”

“Of course…” Grace said.  “Why so early?”

“For Stella.  We need to show you something with Stella.”

>< >< >< >< ><

Elias waved Brock down outside once he noticed his car.  Elias was dressed in his best suit, one he’d know he’d never wear again from now on.  He watched as Brock parallel parked the car on the street.  Grace got out first, wearing a very pretty and fitted yellow dress with a boatneck and cap sleeves, looking especially elegant.  Her hair was sleeked back into a low bun, and she had a pair of high-heeled sandals on to complete her look.  Brock followed behind her, wearing one of his particularly well-tailored and fitted black suits, shiny new shoes and a skinny tie.

“Why’d you make me dress up?” Brock asked as he approached Elias, adjusting his jacket so he could button it up.  

“You know I like seeing you in a suit.”

Brock winked.  “I do, but you see me in one almost every other day.  Why my best suit?”

Elias didn’t have the opportunity to answer, because Svea came up from behind him to hug Grace and Brock.  They both bent down and kissed Stella as well.  “Do you guys mind if I leave my jacket in your car?  It’s getting a bit hot out,” she asked as she began unbuttoning her trench coat.  

“Yeah yeah, of course,” Brock nodded, moving to open the backseat door for her.

When Svea handed the handle of the leash to Elias and took off her trench coat, she had everybody staring.  She revealed the dress she was wearing: plunge V-neck, frilled outline, sequin-embellished waistband, flowy skirt.

White.

“Wait…” Brock held his hand up, not bothering to close the backseat door even though Svea was finished throwing her jacket in the back.  Finished and waiting.  He had a confused look on his face.  But then it suddenly hit him.  “Are you guys getting fuckin’ married?”

Svea smirked.  When Grace saw, she screamed at the top of her lungs.  Brock looked at Elias, who was now smiling and laughing at Grace’s reaction.  “Are you fucking joking?”  Elias shook his head.  “You guys are getting fucking married?!  Right now?!”

“Yup,” Elias finally nodded his head.  “You and Grace are our witnesses, and you may or may not need to FaceTime in our parents and siblings.”

If it was possible, Grace screamed even louder before jumping up and down and lunging herself at Svea, who was ready to catch her and hug her.  Brock and Elias watched as she kept changing “ohmygodohmygodOHMYGOOOOODDDDD” over and over again before she finally had the wherewithal to grab Svea’s left hand.  When she did, she saw Svea’s ring: a beautiful yellow gold pave ring with a sapphire halo around the centre diamond – a giant round cut that took up most of Svea’s finger.  She gasped at the sight of it.  “Oh my God this is stunning,” she said, inspecting it before turning to Elias.  “You picked this out?”

“Wow Grace.  You don’t have faith in me?” Elias smiled.

She turned to Svea.  “Our men have no taste.  You have to tell me who picked it out.”

“HEY!” Brock protested.  “I have taste!”

“We went to the jewelry store together.  I chose the diamond and he said to get it bigger—”

“—Good—”

“—and then I wanted the pave band.  But it was Elias who actually suggested the sapphires in the halo.”

Grace nodded.  “The sapphires make it.  They truly do.”  She gave Elias another look.  “Good job Elias.”

“Thanks Grace.”

“So are we gonna do this thing or what?!” Brock asked, clapping his hands together.  “Let’s get married!”

***

The picture was simple, and taken by Brock.  In it, Elias and Svea stood on the steps outside Vancouver City Hall.  They stood side by side, and were holding hands.  Svea held her bouquet by her hip, and in Elias held the leash for Stella, who was sitting in front of them, smiling at the camera.  They were smiling, too.  Formal smiles, mostly, but in Elias’s unabashedness, and in Svea’s absolute pure joy.

Elias posted a simple caption.  

💒

***

@of_pettersson: The Church of Pettersson could have married you!!!  Alas, we bestow best wishes to you and your bride!  

@peteyfan40: pettersson married? What a way to ring in his contract!

@canucklehead406: gotta love that the first thing elias does after signing a contract is get married. Remember that ice and dice when he said he’d never had a girlfriend? What a change

@vancitybaby: ok, so I’m not the only one who think elias looks super cute with his new wife and puppy, right? Like I basically sobbed.

@ThomasDrance: Signs a contract, gets married.  Bride is childhood best friend Svea Nilsson.  Congrats to Elias & Svea.  Bright things are in their future.

@BBoeser16: So happy for my two best friends and to have been there with them <3

@gracegillespie:  I love love.  Congratulations to Elias, Svea, and Stella.

>< >< >< >< ><

Elias and Svea cuddled on the couch.  Svea was in Elias’s lap and Stella was sleeping in hers.  Elias placed a kiss on Svea’s temple.  “I love you so much, Svea.”

She smiled.  “I love you too Elias.”

For at least a moment, everything was perfect.  

[rainywritingsx]

Scenario: Beelzebub and Asmodeus cheating on their S/O

Request: Can I get a cheating angst for either beelzebub or Asmodeus please? Sad ending as well please🥺💖

Okay so,,,, I was only gonna do Asmo BUT then an idea came to my mind which is veryyy different from it so I decided to do both :D This is my first time writing for obey me aaaaa i’m so nervous. I’m also not experienced with angst buuuttt I hope it’s still okay, hopefully I’ll get better as time passes! Also, Asmo’s scenaro contained way more anger than I intended to but I didn’t think it would be good to change so,,,, Asmo sweetheart I’m so sorry :(. Anywayyy, feel free to give me feedback if there’s something I can work on ^^ Anywaaaayy onto the scenarios, I hope you enjoy!!

Tip jar ^^

warnings: angst angst A N G S T :),,, I really went off at Asmo I’m sorry bby ily :(

words: 2003 (in total)

Beelzebub

“He would never do such a thing.” “He’s head over heels for you.” “Beel is as loyal as a puppy.” “Man, I’ve never seen him so in love.”

They thought he loved them.That nothing would happen to break what they had built.

But they were wrong. So, so wrong.

And now here they were, in his room, him naked on the bed alone after y/n yelled for the person that was here too to get out. The sheets weren’t covering much of Beelzebub, and he was holding onto them as if it were his last breath.

There was a silence. Way too long for Beelzebub’s liking. But he had no idea what to say right now. He knew nothing he would say could fix this. He felt horrible, absolutely horrible. He never wanted to hurt them like this, he had vowed to himself that he wouldn’t but he broke his own promise.

“I can’t believe this.” Y/n croaked out, breaking the silence as tears filled their eyes. Beelzebub’s heart dropped to his chest upon hearing the heartbreaking tone and seeing their glossy eyes. and Y/n could tell, they knew that he felt bad. but they didn’t care. They were the one who was cheated on, not him. He had no right to use any self-pity right now.

“Y-y/n-“

“No, Beelzebub. I don’t want to hear it.” Their tone was now incredibly sharp, every word piercing through Beelzebub like a knife stabbing him. The demon visibly flinched upon hearing them say his full name. He wasn’t used to it, and he didn’t like hearing it this way.

He wanted to scream. Cry. Fall to the floor. Tell them he loved them, that he was sorry, and that he would never do it again. But really, if he did it once, what held him back from doing it again? How could he prove to them that he’d be loyal this time?

He didn’t want to lose them, but he knew that they wouldn’t stay. Of course they wouldn’t. Not after what he did.

“I-I understand that you don’t love me anymo-“

“I don’t love you?” Y/n repeated in disbelief. A humourless chuckle escaped their lips. “I don’t love you?” They said again, shaking their head.

“How can you say that? How can you say that I don’t love you? I was always here for you, I cherished all of our moments together, I appreciate you as a person. Of course I love you. That doesn’t just go away because you cheated on me, Beelzebub.” Y/n said, and while in any other situation these words would’ve caused Beel’s heart to race, now he just felt sad. They loved him so much, and this was how he returned the favour?

“But what did go away,” they spoke up again. Y/n stopped for a moment to take a deep breath, not wanting to cry in front of him right now. They closed their eyes for a moment, before opening them again. “was my trust in you. I love you, but I can’t be with you anymore.” He wanted to cry. He wanted to hug them, beg them to stay, tell them that they would do better. But would he? Would he really? Was he never going to make that mistake again? This was the first time that he ever felt so much guilt at once.

“I hope that you realise how much things like this hurt the people around you. And I really hope that the next person who will be with you isn’t going to get hurt like this too.” Y/n sighed softly. Beelzebub wasn’t a bad person. they knew that. they were surprised that they managed to stay so calm right now.

But really, they weren’t feeling a bit of anger. Just sadness, disappointment, confusion. HOw could this happen? How could he do this? were they naive for thinking he would never cheat on them?

“I know you aren’t a bad person.” Y/n said as they looked at Beel, whose eyes were practically begging Y/n to stay. They shook their head as their eyes never looked away from his. “But that doesn’t mean I can just forgive and forget like that…” Slowly, Y/n’s feet made its way towards the door of the room.

“W-wait Y/n, no.” for a moment they stopped. They knew they wouldn’t be able to avoid him forever as both of them resided in the Devildom. But they really just wanted time for themselves right now.

“Beelzebub, I really wish the best for you in the future” They said “And I don’t hate you. I’m just… really hurt. I need some time alone right now.” and that was the last thing Y/n said before kleaving the room.

Beelzebub slowly lowered his head, quiet sobs escaping his mouth as shoulders shook slightly. He had really lost them. How could he mess up so bad? He wanted to follow them, apologise, beg for them to give him one more chance.

But Y/n deserved better than that. They were too kind for him, the fact that they didn’t even hate him shattered  his heart even more.

Y/n walked through the halls of the Devildom, tears threatening to spillf from their eyes. Their footsteps were quick and their gaze was lowered. They still couldn’t believe it. How could Beel, their dear Beel, hurt them like that?

They didn’t notice Mammon, who had just left Lucifer’s room and looked like he had just gotten a long lecture from the eldest. Mammon did take notice of Y/n though, and immediately he saw the tears.

“Oi, Y/n, what’s wrong? Why are you cryin’?” he asked and wanted to stop them, but Y/n ignored him and kept walking. They almost ran to their room and locked the door before letting their body fall on the bed. And that’s when they finally let it all out. It still felt surreal. They gave him their heart, but he just shattered it as if it was nothing.

Asmodeus (baby I’m so sorry)

Fury. Disappointment. Sadness. Anger.

None of these words could explain all of the emotions Y/n was feeling right now. Nothing, no words, no sounds, no actions, one of that could properly express what went through their mind. They had never felt an emotion like this, but they knew that they hated it and wanted it to go away this instant.

Nobody said a word. Not Y/n, who wasn’t able the find the right words. Nor did Asmodeus, who was at a loss for words, too. So they waited. Y/n waited for him to say something. They just stared at him. it was as if their eyes told him “Go on, I’m waiting.” and it drew the demon insane because he just had no idea what to say.

With every second that passed by, Y/n slowly started losing their patience. He really wasn’t saying a thing? He had the nerve to commit such foolish actions, yet he couldn’t say a single word to them? Really? Was he the victim here? Were they supposed to feel bad?

“So?” Y/n crossed their arms, holding back tears as they refused to lose eye contact with him. They could tell he was uncomfortable. Good, they thought to themself. He should feel that way. If he wanted to cheat on them, they should deal with everything caused by it.

A dry laugh escaped their lips, making Asmodeus flinch in surprise as he clutched the bedsheets in his hands.

“You really aren’t saying anything?” their voice was way too calm for his liking. He knew that at any moment, if he said the wrong thing, they would explode.

But Asmodeus knew that nothing he’d say could fix the situation. He knew that no matter what he’d say, it wouldn’t undo his unfaithful actions. It wouldn’t erase the pain he caused them to feel. It wouldn’t change the fact that his and Y/n’s relationship was on the brink of falling apart right now. And he felt horrible for it, he had never felt so ashamed, so disgusted with himself.

“Don’t you fucking dare give me that look, Asmodeus. I’m the one who was cheated on, not you.” They spat. How could he act all pitiful now? He looked like a puppy who had just been hit by his owner, while he was the one who had done the damage.

“Darling I’m so-”

“Quit the damn pet names. Don’t you dare call me darling when you were fucking someone else seconds ago.” Y/n’s voice rose as they continued speaking, to the point where Asmodeus thought that his other brothers in the Devildom could hear him.

“Why, Asmodeus, why?!” Y/n was yelling at this point as furious tears escaped their eyes. “Why the fuck did you do this? Was it fun, was it exciting? Was it one of your many fantasies? Was that why you dated me in the first place? Huh? Why are you all quiet now? You were pretty damn vocal when you were sleeping with that person. You loved every fucking second of it!” The tears were rolling down their cheeks as they walked up to the bed, staring down at Asmodeus who felt very small right now.

“Was I nothing but a toy to you?! Did you think I just wanted to have ‘fun’ with you? That that was all I wanted in our relationship? I fucking did everything for you, Asmodeus! And you just fucked some stranger you saw at the academy today?” Y/n shook their head and laughed humorlessly.

“I should’ve known, huh? Of course you would cheat on me.” Asmodeus’ heart cracked at that, because he knew exactly what they were talking about. That damn curse, sin, whatever it was, he despised it right now. But even if that was what drove him to betray his s/o, he was aware that it didn’t mean Asmodeus was not responsible for this at all.

“I hate you.” Y/n said, their voice quiet and Asmo swore he could hear something break at those words. “I hate you! I hate you, Asmodeus! I despise you more than anyone or anything else!” They were yelling now, their hands shaky and balled into fists.

“I regret meeting you, I regret talking to you, I regret kissing you, I regret being your s/o! At the end, all you did was betray me and throw me to the side as if I’m nothing and I detest you for that!!” Y/n’s voice cracked, but it didn’t take away the anger they felt nor did it weaken the power of their words. All Asmodeus could do was listen as he still tried to find the right words to say to the person whom he had hurt so badly.

“I fucking hate you!! Go fuck whoever was in your bed before I got here, I don’t want to speak to you ever again. I don’t care if we live in the same house, I’ll do whatever I can to ignore you. I hate you so, so much, Asmo!” those were the last words Y/n said before storming off. Despite them being human, the loud stomps made it sound as if it was a demon that was angrily walking through the halls.

Asmodeus looked down, realization of what had just occurred finally hitting him. And that was where he broke. A soft sob escaped his mouth as the feeling of regret overtook his body. His shoulders started shaking as he hid his face in the blankets, shaking his head in disbelief. How could he have done this? He knew Y/n already had a rough time with his overall flirty attitude, but they were nothing but patient all this time and he just took advantage of their kindness., He was the lowest of the low. And he knew that he deserved everything that would come his way now.

[rwby-diaries]

Happy birthday Ruby!

Our most adorable shooting star is up! Ruby was born on October 31st (kept from CRWBY canon)! She came into the world just a pink little thing, and she stole everyone’s hearts with just one look. Her family loves her so much and so do we!

Line Art by: @bosiphas

Colour by: @data-plays-viola

Ficlet by: @lameclub

Edited by: @bosiphas @yang-diary @data-plays-viola and @thetopazvulpix

Ficlet under the cut!

“Happy birthday Ruby!’’ Different voices all cry out in unison as Ruby stands there with her eyes big and wide.

“You guys shouldn’t have!’’ She says awkwardly - causing Yang tomorrow her eyes and smirk in her direction.  

“Jaune spilled the beans, didn’t he?’’

Ruby scoffs loudly, “Whaaat? How could you possibly assume that our good, kind-natured friend Jaune--’’

“You don’t have to defend me, Ruby. It’s pretty obvious,’’ Jaune says while scratching the back of his head with an embarrassed smile. Weiss rolls her eyes as she walks over, taking Ruby’s arm and leading her in the other direction.

“You can count yourself out of the next surprise party,’’ Weiss says with a pointed look back at Jaune. Ruby giggles before turning around to better keep up with her friend. They begin to approach a round table not that far from them - causing Ruby to let out a giant gasp.

The table is decorated with many different trays of sweets and baked goods - carefully placed in order of colour and type. Ruby turns back towards her friends.

“You didn’t have to do all of this!’’ she says with a big smile on her face as her eyes well up with tears.

Nora giggles, "Ren spent the last two nights making sure every cupcake was perfect, didn't ya buddy?"

Nora finishes the question with a poke to Ren’s ribcage and a smile. Ren looks down at her with a puzzled look on their face, "You only turn 15 once - I don't see why I should hold back." Yang shakes her head as she leans on their shoulder with a smirk.

“We aren’t making fun of ya bud! No need to be self-conscious about the amount you made.

“Anyways,” Yang adds with an even bigger smirk, “Nora’s bottomless pit she calls a stomach will probably eat half of this in like an hour.”

Ruby giggles as she takes a single cupcake and, without an ounce of hesitation, bites into it. The sweetness burst to life in her mouth, causing them to hum in appreciation. “Oh! This is so good Ren, maybe the best thing I’ve ever eaten!’’ She exclaims as she quickly devours the rest of her sweet.

Yang whistles, “That’s a bold statement - considering we grew up around the self-proclaimed 'Best Cook in all of Remnant' - Uncle Clover.’’

Ruby blinks for a few seconds before she laughs in response. “Listen, both are on the same level as the other - actually this reminds me of my 13th birthday,’’ Ruby says happily as she finds herself becoming more distant and lost in thought.

~~~

"Uncle Qrowwww!" Ruby shouts as she jumps onto his arms; he catches and holds her up with ease. "I can't believe I get to spend my birthday with both you and Uncle Clover!" Her eyes sparkle as her legs dangle back and forth mid-air.

"How was the ferry ride from Patch? Hope it wasn't too scary to travel on your own." Qrow questions with a head tilt which only causes Ruby to scoff in response.

"You're talking to a future huntress here, Uncle Qrow - a little boat ride wasn't gonna scare me," Ruby says with a big smirk on her face before she continues "Besides I barely ever get to see you guys these days and no way was I going to spend my birthday alone!"

Qrow chuckles as he affectionately ruffles their hair. "Oz decided to let me have a free weekend. Coincidentally, Mr. Tin Man  felt the same for Clover," he smiles as she jumps back down to the ground.

"Tin man?"

Before Qrow could respond to her inquiry - the front door swings open and another voice is heard. "So, our favourite lil' whirlwind is here already?" Clover says with a smirk as he leans on the doorframe. Ruby lets out a squeal as she zips across the front lawn and practically leaps into her uncle's chest, knocking the man back a couple of feet.

"Uncle Clover, it's been so long!" Ruby cries out as they hug him tightly and Clover smiles warmly down at her. As she drops back down and takes a step back, she can barely contain her excitement, frantically patting her legs. Clover takes a few seconds to recover from the intensity of Ruby's hug, then looks down at her with a proud smile.

"I swear you've grown an inch or two since I last saw ya!" He exclaims with a short gasp - inspecting them closely.

Ruby giggles, "It's actually just my new boots," she explains as she shows them off proudly which causes Clover to whistle into admiration. Ruby pauses for a moment and gestures for their uncle to come closer, the other doing just that, as they stretch up to his ear in a stealthy fashion.

"But if anyone else asks - I finally had my growth spurt." Ruby whispers.

Clover takes a second to process that before he snorts and stands back up, "Your secret is safe with me munchkin." He finishes with a wink and ruffles their hair.  Ruby let's out a playful grunt as she frantically goes to fix her hair back to the way she liked it just as Qrow approaches from behind them.

"I'm gonna pop these bags up to your room, squirt, and then I hafta check on your birthday surprise," Qrow explains as he easily picks up and carries in her assortment of different backpacks and cases. "Why dontcha join your uncle in the kitchen?" He suggests with a smirk towards Clover - who beams brightly in return. Ruby nods enthusiastically and takes hold of Clover's arm.

"Yesss come on Uncle Clover, time's a wastin!" They cry out as they tug Clover in the direction of the kitchen which has her uncle laughing warmly; allowing for his nibling to drag him in the direction she wanted to go.

"We'll see you soon babe - shoot me a text when everything's ready!"  Clover shouts back towards Qrow and the other nods in agreement.

As the duo separated themselves from Qrow - they enter into the kitchen. The whole room was rather neatly kept - totally unlike Ruby’s kitchen at home, which often fell victim to plates and dishes piling up, especially if it was just Ruby and her dad.

On the table in the middle, there was a variety of different baking utensils and ingredients - all neatly sorted and ready to be used. Ruby gasps loudly as they sprint into the room, admiring her surroundings with great excitement.

Clover trails in not far behind the other and chuckles softly, "I was going to have the cake and everything else ready for you, but I remembered how much you love to bake, so I waited to make the cupcakes."  He tells them while watching the young kid take in the sight before them with big eyes.

"Always! Just because it's my birthday doesn't mean I don't want to make badass cupcakes-" Ruby stops herself when she realises what she let slip past her mouth and clears her throat. "Doesn't mean we can't make awesome cupcakes," they correct themself with an innocent smile. Clover rolls his eyes playfully, choosing to ignore that in favour of wanting Ruby to enjoy her birthday.

"Anyways! We should get started - would you like to do the honours?" Clover says as he passes her the bowl of butter and Ruby nods in a dramatic fashion. As she dumps its contents into the mixing bowl before her, her uncle pours some casting sugar in before presenting Ruby with the whisk.

"Use it wisely, young one." Clover says.

Ruby gasps while taking it carefully and nodding, "I won't let you down good sir." She tries to keep up the serious demeanor but she couldn't contain the giggles that were building up deep down. As they begin to whisk the ingredients together, Ruby starts to ponder on a few things.

She was excited beyond belief about spending her birthday with her uncles - it was a rare sight when both of them could attend. But… there were small things that were nagging at Ruby and refusing to let go. Their sudden quietness immediately catches her uncle's attention, who then turns to face her.

“Something on your mind?” Clover asks in a gentle tone - completely surprising Ruby who lets out a tiny yelp. It didn't take her long to recover from that sudden question as Ruby looks down at the mix and sighs.

“I'm happy to be here with both you and uncle Qrow but… It's my first birthday without Yang.” Ruby speaks very quietly as she slows to a halt and their hair falls onto her face - hiding her true expression. Clover watches with soft eyes as he lowers himself down to her level.

"I know how hard it must be with Yang being on that school trip and your dad being busy," Clover starts in a gentle tone while pushing Ruby's fringe back once more, "but trust me when I say you're going to have a great birthday with the most awesome surprise."  He gives her a big smile as the words seem to do the job of cheering her up. Ruby's expression lights back up and they wipe their eyes

"Thank you Uncle Clover," she says with a lopsided smile. Clover laughs as he kisses her forehead and stands back up - the pair returning to their tasks.

"So uncle Clover - a birthday surprise huh?" She asks with a sly smile.

Clover glances down for a moment before chuckling to himself, "You got that right." He doesn’t elaborate further, simply gesturing for her to stop the whisking for a moment. As he adds a small tablespoon of vanilla extract, while Ruby's curiosity reaches an all time high.

"I wonder what it could be - maybe a mega awesome present-"

Clover laughs, "Ruby I know you have long figured out I'm the weak link when it comes to surprises," he says with a side glance down towards the kid.

Ruby giggles. "Yeah I found out when you accidentally told Yang that dad was considering the motorcycle license-"

Clover hushes them with a small laugh, "Which your dad never ever lets me live down."

"But I promised your uncle I wouldn't breathe a word of it - so will a simple reassurance that you will love it suffice?" Clover asks.

Despite the desire to know brewing deep down within Ruby - she understood this was something super important to keep a secret. With a sigh, she finishes her whisking and nods in agreement. Clover pats her on the head

"Not much longer now," he says while taking the bowl away.

"Now remember - 15 minutes in the oven or you'll burn them!" Ruby calls as Clover goes to fill the pre-prepared cupcake pan with the batter.

Clover scoffs,"You're talking to the 'Best Baker in all of Remnant' here Ruby. I ain't about to let these cupcakes burn on my watch!"

After the batch has been fully cooked and decorated, Clover's scroll finally dings on the counter loudly. Ruby's head perks up.

"Is that Qrow telling us everything is ready?!" They ask while frantically patting the table.

Clover laughs, "Let's see." He walks over and picks the device up. After being silent for a few seconds, the man looks back up and smiles. "We have to head out back."

Ruby follows behind her uncle enthusiastically - as he leads them down the hallway.

Excitement was thrumming all throughout Ruby's body as they got closer and closer to their destination. About a dozen different scenarios were rattling around in their head at once - but they just couldn't come to a solid conclusion. Was it a new cape? Maybe they're getting a super cool motorcycle too?! Clover stops before the backdoor and turns to Ruby.

"Close your eyes buddy," he tells her with a big smile. Ruby did exactly as she was told and soon after did they feel Clover gently take their arm and begin to lead her forward.

Ruby could feel the cool breeze of the outside world as they were continued to be led by her uncle - the shuffling of feet could be heard too. After a few seconds, Clover orders her to stop and she does just that.

"Can I open my eyes now?!" They exclaim, growing more impatient by the second.

Clover laughs, "You can now."Ruby's eyes flutter open. After taking a moment to adjust to the sudden sunlight - Ruby focuses her gaze right ahead of her, letting out a huge gasp at the sight before their eyes.

"Happy birthday Ruby!"

Different voices yell in unison, coming noth only from her Uncle Qrow, but also from her dad and sister, standing next to Qrow with huge matching grins. Ruby begins to bounce on the spot before jetting across the grassy garden.

"Oh my gosh!" They yell, tackling all their family in one swift motion, everyone being knocked to the ground by the force of it. Everyone laughs wildly as Yang and Tai embrace Ruby.

"You said you guys couldn't make it!" They say with tears in her eyes and Yang swiftly wipes them away, a soft smile on her face.

"You didn't think I'd miss your big birthday bash, did ya sib?"

Tai nods, "I decided to get off work early and Yang finished up her Huntsfolk Observation Trip quicker than expected." The trio finally stand back up and Tai his head tilts in Qrow's direction before continuing.

"Qrow managed to pull some strings to make sure we were all here," he says with a smirk.

Yang scoffs, "I had to make sure these old timers were doing your birthday right." She gives both Tai and Qrow a smug grin. Tai playfully jabs his daughter in the ribs and Yang snorts in response.

Ruby's face lit up - not sure how to react. Tai's face softens for a moment as he turns back around to pick up an item he dropped when they fell, picking up a small book with a pink bow neatly placed on top of it.

"I wanted you to have this. We all spent the last week getting all the pictures printed and organized." He explains in a quiet tone while placing the book into Ruby's hands.

Ruby stares at it, seeing the words 'Ruby's Birthday' printed on the top stirred emotions deep down. Everyone crowds around them with supportive looks which encourages Ruby to open the book, letting the pages fall open somewhere around the halfway point.

As Ruby looks down at the page, she could see Yang holding their baby self with the help of Tai, her older sister’s eyes wide with wonder.

"Yang insisted that she held you the moment she laid eyes on you," Qrow chuckles fondly.

Yang gives a quick snicker in response, "I just knew how awesome my baby sibling was the moment I saw them," she says while ruffling Ruby's hair and the other pushes her off with a smile.

"What is it with all this hair ruffling today?!" Ruby asks with giggles sprinkled in between words.

As they flip backwards to the previous page, they see two pages of Qrow and Clover holding them as a baby as well.

"Clover of course, had to make a luck pun," Qrow says with a smirk in his husband's direction and the other stuck his tongue out playfully.

"So nothing much has changed between now and then?" Ruby points out which causes everyone else to laugh alongside them. Ruby turns the page further back towards the front of the book, seeing a picture of Tai.

"I remember when your mother went into labour - I quickly ran back into our room to specifically get that shirt," Tai explains with a short laugh, pointing at the red ‘#1 Dad’ shirt in the picture.

Clover scoffs, "You were planning that gag ever since Summer became pregnant too."

Tai waves him off “I’m the embarrassing father - I have an image to maintain!’’ He laughs and Ruby snorts in response  - looking up at her dad with happy eyes. After a moment, Ruby’s attention once again falls back to the book before them - as they flip to the first page of the book and Ruby finds herself growing silent.

Tai looks down at them with sad eyes as he places his hand on her shoulder "She wasn't scared at all when she was pregnant with you - I was more frightened than her." That comment has Ruby look up to her dad with a sad smile as she let him continue.

"She did everything in her power to make sure you were brought into the world safely and surrounded by love," he explains as everyone around them watched on in a wistful way "Your mom loved you so much Ruby. Every moment she spent with you was everything she could've hoped for."

That was what brought on the tears - as Yang and Ruby both found themselves starting to cry. Everyone  then closed in for a group hug. Nobody moved for a few moments, just choosing to instead enjoy each other's presence in total serenity.

"One last thing," Yang says with a smile as she pulls back and taking out a small camera. "Every year me and Ruby take a picture together for their birthday," she explains as she gestures for everyone to squeeze together "And this is the first time we've all been together in a long long time."

Yang places the camera on the nearby picnic table and sets a timer "Everyone says cheese!" She cries out while rushing over just in time as everyone screams out that word excitedly. The camera clicks with a flash and everyone starts to giggle. Qrow gives Ruby a quick pat on the head.

"Now let's dig into some birthday cake, shall we?" He suggests and Ruby gasps loudly.

"Birthday person gets the first slice!" She exclaims as she zips over in a burst of petals.

~~~

“That’s such a sweet story Ruby,’’ Pyrrha says with a warm smile on her face and placing her hands on top of heart in a fond manner. “Would you like to take a picture with all of us?’’

That question easily catches Ruby’s attention as her eyes go wide, “Oh my gosh yes! I’d love nothing more,’’ they say while jumping on the spot and clasping her hands together. “It’ll show off our awesome costumes too. I dont have one good birthday photo in Halloween costumes, and I’ve almost always had a Halloween birthday.’’

Weiss raises an eyebrow “Ruby, you were born on Halloween, every year is a Halloween birthday." Yang hushes Weiss with a playful push.

“You can survive one night without making a sassy remark Ice Queen,’’ she teases which obviously irritates the other but after a moment, Weiss takes in a deep breath and seemingly composes herself.

“Does anyone have a camera then?’’ Weiss asks.

Everyone looks around at each other before shrugging and Nora groans, “Where’s Velvet when ya need her.” . Blake’s head perks up as she takes out her scroll and gestures to it.

“It’s not as traditional, but I think your scroll could work.’’ She says with a small smile.

Yang’s face lights up “Once again - Blake is here with the big brain,’’ she says with a wink which in turn causes Blake’s cheeks to flush red and she looks down at the floor with a tiny smile. Ruby takes out her device and beams brightly.

"Everybody squeeze in - I’m pretty short,’’ she says loudly and everyone begins to crowd in around them, all trying their best to get in level with the camera. With a bit of effort, Ruby manages to hold the scroll as high she possibly could and she gives a big smile.

“Everyone say cheese!’’ She yells and everyone screams that word at the same time.

A flash on the scroll lights up the room before Ruby lowers it down - inspecting the picture that was taken. As they look at the photo, tears begin to well up in their eyes and she sniffles lightly.

Yang glances down with a fond look on her face and pats Ruby lightly on the head, “All good Rubes?’’ Ruby wipes her eyes and nods frantically.

“It’s everything I could’ve hoped for.’’

[ofbooksandaesthetics]

Survival & Sacrifice

Hunger Games 

Enobaria x F!Reader

Request from @thankyoualexkingston-blog

Summary: In the wake of the 75th annual Hunger Games and announcement of the terms, you beg your lover to let you take her place. 

Warning: Angst, Vomit, Violence

The two of you sat by side in Enobaria’s lavish house in District 2′s victor village. You were both awaiting President Snow and the announcement of the 75th Hunger Games, or more importantly, the 3rd Quarter Quell. Since winning your games, the two of you had watched the Games closely, wanting to support your future tributes as much as possible. But with the upcoming announcement you were both sat at the edge of your seats in anticipation. The past quarterly games had been cruel, punishing the districts and you were both prepared to train the tributes as fiercely as possible. 

But the both of you sat in stunned silence as President Snow read out the sick twist for this year’s game, and your heart dropped into your stomach. 

You couldn’t hear anything. 

It was as if you’re body had shut down. But before you knew it your legs had carried you to the nearest bathroom, leaving your cane far behind. Your knees gave way sloppily in front of the toilet, and your hearing returned. But you wish it had not, because now all you could hear was food making its way back up. You were there for so long that you didn’t notice Enobaria come behind you rubbing your back. Once you were finished, Enobaria moved you into the corner of the room before leaving. 

You sat there in silence, staring at the floor, tears starting to pool in your eyes. You could feel the dull pain in your leg, and as you looked down realised you’d let adrenaline take control and had left your crutch in the sitting room. Throwing your head back against the wall, you let out a loud sob. 

Thump. Thump. Your heartbeat rapidly in your chest, threatening to burst out if you exerted it further. But you had to. You could hear the footsteps behind you, and they were getting louder. Getting closer. You made a quick turn to the left which threw off your pursuer, but it only seemed to fuel his anger. He growled. You couldn’t fail. Not here. Not now. Not when you were so close to victory and getting out of this vile place. But it seemed the odds were not in your favour.

The speed of your sobs increased and not even the return of your lover could pull you from your dark memories. 

You fell face-first into the ground and before you could comprehend what had happened you were on your back. The final tribute had caught up to you. All it took was a single mistake. You remembered his face from training. Although you spent most of your training with the other Careers, you still made an effort to learn about the other tributes. The District 6 boy hadn’t seemed much of a threat but now as you stared into his cold eyes you knew it was a façade. He was just as dangerous as the Careers. 

Enobaria wrapped you in a blanket, with a softness no one would ever know she possessed. The fanged woman didn’t attempt to move you. She had spent too many late nights awake to know that you would talk when ready. Not everyone came out of the arena, stronger than before.

He broke the staring contest first. His hand moved towards his waist and he drew a sharp dagger. Your eyes widened as your gazes met again, but the alarm was due to the wide smile on his face rather than the weapon. It was like nothing you’d ever seen before. Most of the Careers were over-eager but this was something new. Sadistic. Malicious. He again dropped his gaze first and instead followed the blade he was running down your body. He eventually stopped at your thigh and made eye contact yet again. And without hesitation plunged the blade into your thigh, pushing it deeper and deeper with every scream and cry you let out. You tried to shake him out but his weight and the added agony made it difficult. He only seemed to enjoy your attempt to escape. 

After what seemed like hours, but was in fact only minutes, he removed the knife for the last time. You closed your eyes and anticipated pain in your chest. But it didn’t come. Instead, your breathing was cut short. The boy had discarded his weapon on the floor next to you, in favour of using his bare hands. His blood-stained hands wrapped around your throat and squeezed. His smile seemed to grow even more as you clawed at his hands. 

Black. That’s all you saw. Until you heard a boom, and then a maniacal laugh. You wanted to close your eyes and fall into the slumber that was calling out to you. But something else was also yelling your name. You forced yourself to open your eyes and lifted your head. You watched the boy walk away from you, his arms held out in exaltation to the heavens or more likely the aircraft coming to collect him. But at that moment, you decided that his journey was over. Fumbling you grabbed the discarded knife, glad that his senses seemed to be overwhelmed by his victory and the sound of the whirring above. You found yourself standing, adrenaline rushing through your veins and masking all the pain. And before you knew it, you were behind him. Knife poised. Arm back. And in it went. Straight through his ribs. 

You pushed the reminder of your injury and victory out of your mind and steadied your breathing. You had won. Barely. Turning your head you looked at the woman sat next to you. Before you would have been selfish and quietly allowed someone else to volunteer but you couldn’t allow yourself to let Enobaria sacrifice herself. 

“I’ll volunteer” 

Enobaria seemed to either not hear your deceleration or ignore it entirely. 

“Ria. I’m volunteering.” 

Again, Enobaria didn’t reply.

“Enobaria, are you listening?” you sighed but before you could continue you were cut off.

“No. No, you are not” Your lover all but scoffed. 

“What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I?” You protested. 

“You can’t. You’d die straight away.” She murmured, avoiding your gaze. This time you planned to talk back in anger, but you caught yourself before you could. She was right. Your games were held 6 years ago. You still hadn’t recovered from your leg injury and it was unlikely that you would ever. Too much damage had been made. Unless you teamed up with the other Careers you’ wouldn’t have a chance. And it was unlikely they would even bother. With your disability, you’d be a burden rather than an asset. You two sat in silence, while you mulled over her words. 

“All the more reason to!” You exclaimed. “It’s better to go in knowing I’ll die than watching you constantly fight for your life.” 

For once, Enobaria had no words to say. Usually, when the two of you would have a domestic she’d be the one to raise her voice and you’d be the one to come up with the solution. But today the roles were reversed and you were the one being difficult. 

“Please. I could fight every day and never get tired, because in the end I know I could come back to you. You need to stay here. I can’t watch you die.” And for the first time in the four years you’d been together, you saw your lover cry. Your heart sunk and without thinking you flung yourself upon her, ignoring the sharp pain in your leg. 

The two of you stayed like this for hours. Unmoving. You both knew what would happen when the Reaping came, but neither of you wanted to voice it out loud. Instead, you lay in each other's arms on the cold tile floor.

This would be the last bit of peace you would share for a long time.  

“I’ll love you forever.”