#Comet is somewhere in the middle - I do like his hair very much

[thebloggerbloggerfun]

@jellydeans: so are cas and jimmy novak just up in heaven existing at the same time @katebushstandean: #jimmy moves to heaven timbuku so that dean stops trying to make out with him every time they run into each other at the heaven grocery store

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Thanks for letting me write this, guys!!

AO3  (2.1k)

The thing about Heaven was that it was whatever you wanted it to be, and most of its residents wanted it to be familiar.

Technically, Dean didn’t need to fill his car up on gas anymore, but there was still a gas station just down the street from where his new home was placed. He didn’t need to sleep, but he still had a large king-sized bed he made sure to make use of at least once a day. He didn’t need to eat, but there was a thriving supermarket that catered to whatever he was feeling like eating and always boasted the freshest ingredients for when he wanted to get a little fancy with his cooking.

Like today, for example.

Bobby had said he doubted Dean could make a proper souffle, so obviously Dean had to make the old man eat his words - and a souffle.

Dean stared at all of the different options of eggs, trying to decide if “free-range” vs. “organic” actually meant anything in Heaven, or if it was just meant to give him some sort of familiarity.

He grabbed the “free-range” option and moved on to the dairy.

There was movement out of the corner of his eye in the meat section across the way, and the way his heart stopped in his chest when he turned to look would have killed him if he wasn’t already dead.

It was Cas.

Cas, who Dean had spent every day thinking about since he’d left. Cas, who Dean had been trying to find ever since Bobby told him he was still around. Cas, who Dean still had unfinished business with.

He’d spend hours in bed, staring at the ceiling of his room and rehearsing just what he’d say when he saw him again, but in those scenarios Cas had shown up on his doorstep or in the passenger seat of his car where they could have a moment to just be .

He’d never been buying hamburger meat.

Dean rushed forward, cart forgotten, and skidded to a halt in front of Cas, just as he looked up in surprise.

“I love you -” Dean said in a rush, heart pounding, head reeling, “Of course I love you. You’re - fuck - you’re everything I could ever want and I’m - I’m so damn sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t have me, too.”

Cas blinked at him, and it was in that moment Dean realized something was wrong.

His expression, his hair, the way he moved, the way he was dressed - all of it was wrong.

None of it was Cas, he’d just been too overwhelmed to see it.

“Oh, uh... hey Dean,” Not-Cas said, and finished putting his selected meat in his basket, “I didn’t didn’t know that you died. Um, if you’re looking for Castiel -“

Dean turned and ran out of the store.

*

What were the fucking chances that in all of Heaven, he and Cas’s old vessel were neighbors?

Dean gunned the gas pedal on his car as he drove endlessly, trying to walk himself through what exactly had happened the day before.

Jimmy Novak was here.

Jimmy Novak who - last Dean checked - hated him.

Dean had just spewed his feelings all over him without even thinking about the possibility that he wasn’t Cas. He’d been wearing a sweater vest for crying out loud - but he was willing to forgive himself for that one because he didn’t really know how Cas would dress if he had the choice.

His hopes had soared so high when he’d seen the familiar figure, only to be dashed the moment Jimmy had opened his mouth. They sounded absolutely nothing alike - and Dean yearned for the deep gravel of Castiel’s greeting.

Dean’s grip on the wheel tightened.

Where was Cas?

Didn’t he know that there was nothing keeping them apart now?

In what could only be an act of fate smiling down on him, Dean zoomed around a corner near the Heavenly library, and instantly had to stomp on the brakes of the Impala as a trenchcoat-clad figure stepped into the previously empty crosswalk.

Old habits die hard - Dean was still going to brake for Heavenly pedestrians, especially ones that looked like Cas.

Cas turned to look at him, eyes wide, and Dean shoved the driver’s side door open in a panic. The trench coat was unmistakable this time.

“Cas! Cas - don’t go okay? I gotta -“

Cas shook his head sharply and let out a breath.

“No - Jesus Christ - it’s still me, you idiot.”

Dean gaped at him as his brain tried to catch up with the conflicting bits of information it was processing.

“...what?” He heard himself saying.

Had he just wanted it to be Cas so bad that he’d ignored all the signs?

Jimmy gestured at himself like it was enough of an explanation.

“Uh. Yeah.”

“But - but you’re wearing his trenchcoat! ” Dean said, waved at it like maybe Jimmy hadn’t realized he was walking around as the mockery of the angel who’d once shared a living space with him.

Jimmy placed an affronted hand on his own chest.

“It was my trenchcoat!”

Frustration boiled inside of him and Dean quickly slid back into the car and slammed the door shut behind him.

He sped off, once again running from what could have been.

*

Dean was sulking under a pile of blankets in his bed when there was a knock at his door.

He ignored it.

After a few moments of silence, the knocking came again, louder and more insistent this time.

Grumbling to himself, Dean threw the blankets off and trudged down the stairs, flinging open the door with a scowl.

A person with nearly combed hair was standing on the doorstep holding a six-pack of beer in one hand and had a sticker on his shirt that said, ‘Hello, my name is Jimmy’.

“Very funny.” Dean said flatly.

“It’s not funny. It’s just in case you try to kiss me or something.” Jimmy held up the six-pack expectantly. “Can I come in?”

Dean didn’t appreciate the ribbing, but he didn’t mind the beer.

And after accosting him twice he might as well let the guy do what he wanted.

“Yeah, whatever.” Dean grumbled and left the door open as he walked back inside and flopped onto his couch. “Why are you here? Don’t you hate me?”

Jimmy hummed as he set the beer down on the coffee table and took a seat opposite Dean.

“I don’t not hate you.” He said with a shrug. “But last time we talked you were trying to convince me to chain myself to a comet again and I can’t say I appreciated it.”

Dean grunted in acknowledgment.

“I’ve been in heaven for a while now. It’s nice here. I take a yoga class with my wife.” Jimmy smiled at him. “I think I’m in a much better mental space now to consider liking you, especially if we’re going to be neighbors.”

Dean winced.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to like Jimmy, it was just… that was Cas’s face. It wasn’t , but it was. Was he really going to have to be constantly taunted with it?

“Look man - I’m sorry about - you know. That.” Dean waved a hand in the air generally. “But you don’t have to do all this. I’ll stop harassing you.”

“That would be nice,” Jimmy said, opening one of the cans and taking a swig, “So, considering the things you’ve said to me, I take it he finally told you he loved you?”

Dean paused, still raw every time he thought about it.

“You knew?”

Jimmy smirked.

“That angel’s love for you permeated both of our beings so potently I’m amazed I don’t love you.” Jimmy said, like it was the kind of fact you could drop casually. “Though even I will admit, as a happily married heterosexual man, that having a man as handsome as you proclaim your love to me in the middle of a grocery store was very exciting.”

Dean dropped his head into his hands and groaned loudly.

“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” Jimmy said, “That first one was pretty good. I’m sure he’s going to love it.”

“He’s never gonna hear it.” Dean muttered.

“Sure he will. You’ve already practiced it twice.”

“I can’t find him!” Dean said, and looked back up, “He’s here somewhere, and I can’t find him. It’s killing me.”

Jimmy held out a beer can.

“Good thing you’re already dead.”

Begrudgingly, Dean accepted the beer and opened it.

“I just. . . I just wanna see him again.” Dean took a long drink. “I want to talk to him. Tell him everything. Share everything. If he wants that.”

Dean let out a long breath, expecting Jimmy to interject with a quip.

He looked over at him when nothing happened, and Jimmy was smiling at him in a way that Dean could only describe as ‘fond’.

“What?” Dean said, indignantly.

“Nothing.” Jimmy said innocently. “You’re just not what I expected.”

Dean looked away.

“Anyway, you asked why I’m here,” Jimmy took another drink, “I’ve seen Castiel.”

“What?” Dean jumped to his feet, beer can dropped to the floor and forgotten about. “Why didn’t you lead with that?”

“I’m an enigma,” Jimmy shrugged a shoulder and leaned back against the plush chair, “Anyway, I wanted to let you know as someone who has literally been in Castiel’s head - I'm pretty sure I know the reason he’s not showing himself to you.”

“Well, fucking spill.”

Jimmy paused.

“Why do you love him?”

Of all the things Dean had been expecting Jimmy to say - this wasn’t it.

Dean sat back down.

“Why?” He asked, a little breathless. “Why does it matter?”

Jimmy shrugged again.

“I guess -” Dean said, trying to unspool his emotions from the knot they’d made in his heart, “He’s - he’s Cas. He cares . . . so much about everyone and - and he’s selfless and kind and he fucking saved me in more ways than just one. He’s always been there for me and Sam and he’s just… he’s just. He’s just good . I’ll never deserve him, but I want to try.”

Dean sucked in a deep breath.

“He pulls me away from the edge, man. I just love him.”

Jimmy nodded once, set down his beer can, and in a bizarre turn of events, began yelling at Dean’s ceiling.

“Did you hear that, Castiel? Not one goddamn thing about how you look! Nothing about me or my vessel!”

Dean stared, dumbfounded.

“Wh-”

“He doesn’t care what you look like! Can you please just come talk to him so I can stop playing marriage counselor for you two?”

Care how he - what?  

What was happening?

Before Dean could fully compile all of the new information, there was a hesitant knock at the front door.

Dean whipped his head towards Jimmy, who was smiling in satisfaction.

Nearly tripping over himself, Dean rushed to the door faster than he’d rushed towards anything in his life, and swung it open.

In front of him was the wavelength of celestial intent that Dean had always known existed inside of the vessel of Jimmy Novak - the glint of angelic creation he’d caught glimpses of in the glow of his eyes and in his healing touch. The being was massive and stretched high into the sky with what was (maybe three? four??) pairs of wings scraping the clouds even further above everything. He was flaming rings and rotating divine faces that Dean could barely comprehend - he was raw power and all-knowing eyes.

On the front of his form was a sticker that read, ‘Hello, my name is Castiel’.  

“. . . Hello Dean.” The voice rumbled through the air like thunder.

“Cas?” Dean said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I - yes. I’m sorry. I lost my vessel to the Empty - this was the only way -”

“I love you, too.”

The rotating faces on the form towering above him froze in place.

“I do! I love you, Cas. Okay? You didn’t let me say it back before - and if I’ve ever made you feel like I couldn’t love you back, I’m so fucking sorry. You deserve better.”

“. . . you love me?”

Dean nodded, his heart clenching at the disbelief he could hear in Cas’s voice.

“ Even as this?”

“You’ve always been this.” Dean swallowed. “I fell in love with the angel, not the vessel.”

“Dean. . .”

Dean smiled up at him in understanding.

“Just a shame that we’ll have to get a bigger house.”

“Oh I can -”

And as Dean looked on, Castiel began to shrink. The form didn’t change - he was still as striking as he’d been the first time with his wings and halos and faces still firmly in place - but he was now maybe one foot taller than Dean instead of one hundred.

“- make myself more manageable.”

Dean grinned and took a step forward, giddy and thrilled that this was finally, actually happening

He reached up, resting a hand on one of the divine faces.

“Bite-sized.” He murmured fondly.

Jimmy’s voice cut through the moment from somewhere behind them.

“Just so you two know - I. Am. Moving!”

[dennou-translations]

Violet Evergarden: Booklet 2

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I wanted that star. I wanted to be the person who would piece through that star.

   Leon Stephanotis and the First Star

   I had once seen a comet that only came around every two hundred years together with a girl.

It had happened years ago. That was one beautiful evening. Even now, I can still vividly recall the twinkling of the stars we watched on that day while our bodies shivered at the coldness of the nightly wind. Like jewels scattered over a dark canopy, the starry sky was enough to make one forget to even breathe. As it passed by, dragging its white tail, the meteor looked just like a fairy in flight with insect scales scattering about from her wings.

Whenever I looked at a beautiful night sky, I would think many times over, “Aah, now that I’ve branded this moment into my heart, I’d have no regrets if someone reaped my life away”. Should I lose my life, I wanted it to be on a starry night like that. I wanted to die with the memory of witnessing something stunning.

“May the night sky be a beautiful starry one on the day I die,” I wished.

But that one evening was a little bit different. Maybe because I had someone to watch the stars with me. Maybe because that was my first love.

She was a gorgeous person. Even more than the stars. Her hair looked like the Sun when shining under the moonlight and her blue eyes were like gemstones created from a mix of the sea and the sky. With her porcelain skin and skylark voice, the way she walked was just as that of a well-cared maiden. In reality, she was an orphaned ex-soldier, as well as an Auto-Memories Doll from a far-away southern country, so the saying “don’t judge a book by its cover” was pertinent when it came to her.

She was most likely an once-in-a-lifetime kind of person, one that you couldn’t know if you would ever get to meet.

My chest throbbed even at the sigh that leaked from her when she was peeking at the telescope. When she looked my way and smiled faintly, I experienced an impact as if I had been hit in the head, giving in to a love that made me feel like my whole body would melt and crumble down.

“Master, astronomical observations are quite a wonderful thing.”

If, by any chance, my body were to be crushed by a star in that moment, only on that day did I want to keep looking at something, even if for just one second more. I wanted to keep looking at her. Forever and ever, I wished. That was what I thought.

This encounter had changed my life and decided my fate. I didn’t mind if people laughed at that, calling me a romanticist. I, Leon Stephanotis, whose destiny had been altered, would always look back on it.

On the day that I had watched the stars with Violet Evergarden.

   “There was a sea of gold in his land” – who was it again that had sung the praises of a desert like this?

“I’m beat.”

When bookworms read too much, their head’s capacity would exceed the limit, so they would automatically forget the things they had read in their early phases. I had confidence in my memorization abilities and yet I couldn’t remember this, so it was surely a passage from an adventure novel or something of the sort that I had read in my childhood.

——What a beautiful comparison.

When I actually stood in the middle of a desert, my impressions were drawn to the temperatures, sunlight and other such things regarding the environment instead, so this poetic expression hadn’t crossed my mind. In the destinations of my travels, I often reminisced to a certain someone who was somewhere in this world, as well as the things she, who spoke words as beautiful as that, used to say, as if borrowing them.

“So pretty...”

I liked the color of gold. I could observe the grains of sand moving smoothly for all eternity.

“Everyone, you did well; the books we excavated will be brought back by another group. Meaning that we from the starting line-up are finally off for the first time in months.”

As I was spacing out, I didn’t hear the commander’s words very well. I was only staring at the ground, missing out on everything. When I raised my head, the happy-looking faces of my bearded and somewhat dirty colleagues entered my eyes. All I understood right away was that we would get a vacation.

“After we get twenty days off, we’ll regroup in Iustitia, at Shaher’s headquarters. After that, we’ll go to that place in the south where the reconnaissance team was sent. Next will be our turn to bring back the luggage. Don’t let your bodies get weak.”

“Roger that.” Once everybody gave an agreeable reply in unison, we disbanded from the spot.

Iustitia, Shaher’s headquarters. The main office of my occupation. I was previously in a section called the codex department, devotedly working on the deciphering of documents and copying manuscripts, but now I had been transferred to a completely different section. It sounded good when we were called the leading actors, but it was actually a group of reeking adventure rascals, the literature collecting department.

I put my heavy baggage sack on the ground and heaved a breath. Wiping the white folk clothes that I had been provided with on-site, I dusted the sand off them. This clothing called dola – a long robe secured by a waist belt – looked flappy and inflexible at first glance, but it was surprisingly easy to move around in. It was made of a rather velvety silk material, so there would normally not be so much sand sticking to it, but since I was caught in a sandstorm until just a moment ago, there was no helping it.

We had returned from a thorough search in the ruins of an abandoned castle, once the dominion of a royal clan whose name was eminent in the past. A book burning movement had taken place in this land at a certain point, but we had received information that a scholar from those times, out of fear towards the situation, had hidden valuable books in the forsaken palace. The information was apparently right, so after wandering around all over the deserted castle, we had found dozens of books. The books that would be taken to Shaher’s headquarters were to be made into written copies and spread to the world.

Made for protection purposes, Shaher’s literature collection was also well-reputed in other countries. It was difficult to negotiate with the locals responsible for the abandoned castle, but we were allowed entrance this time as well thanks to our achievements thus far. Just like that, someone’s story, studies and feelings, which were supposed to have disappeared, would breathe once again. The books we had been looking for would be delivered to other people and comfort them during long nights.

——What a wonderful thing.

The working environment was awful, but I was proud of my job.

I sat down on my luggage and gazed at the cityscape while drinking water from my canteen. In this desert-zone city, everyone’s clothes seemed harmonized no matter what color they wore.

“Senior Leon, what will you do on your days off?”

As a junior who had not yet left the spot called to me, I furrowed my brows and looked at his face. He was a young man of masculine facial traits, which was enviable to someone as baby-faced as me.

“Hey, Sir.”

A rarity amongst the members of our unit, the man had not been born in Iustitia. If I wasn’t mistaken, he was a rich kid who had been born in a southern country and entered Shaher through connections with the foundation executives.

Getting a job at the Shaher Observatory was a daunting task even for those who had studied astronomy. It was hard to make it without learning in a good environment from an early age. Since Iustitia, the capital of stargazing, was the best place to study in, it was natural that the ones hired were mostly the locals.

——Well, this guy had connections, so this has nothing to do with him.

I pondered an answer. “Nothing in particular.” For the time being, I decided to be cold, acting as nonchalant as ever.

And this was also the same as always, but the junior took no offense in my crude response – rather, he laughed at me, looking happy. “Then that means you’ve got no plans. I was thinking of going home. If you’d like, how about we go together? We have a villa by the lake... If I go now, the schedule will allow my family to join in.”

“No, why do I—”

“Last time we had a break, I told my little sisters about your cool adventure story and they wouldn’t shut up about how much they wanted to meet you. Hey, hey, how about it?”

I was baffled. I had no idea what was good about me to this junior but he would oddly flock to me. The reason why I hadn’t told him about my plans right away was that I felt he would follow me if I did so. Honestly, he was a bother. Up to now, we had acted as a group. I wanted to be alone even if a second sooner.

“I’m not going.”

“No way... My family’s all pretty boys and girls! Sir, you like beautiful things, don’t you?”

“Do they look like you?”

“They do.”

“Then they might be pretty, but won’t be my type.”

“Sir! You’re horrible!”

“So loud. If your family’s waiting for you, hurry and go.”

While I gestured with my hand as if shooing a dog, the junior made a puppy-like sad face. Even though he had a big body, he was amicable and his display of emotions was richer than most people, making him look all the more like a dog.

“Then, if you ever feel like coming to see me during your break...”

“I won’t.”

“...could you contact a hotel called Varona in Leidenschaftlich?”

“I won... uh?”

“It’s a first-class accommodation establishment. It’s under my uncle’s administration, so you can get a stay there immediately, and I can pick you up as soon as you give me my name. Oh, you’re making an interested face, huh? Want to come with me right now?”

What piqued my interest was the word “Leidenschaftlich” – that was all.

——That’s where the CH Postal Company is.

And it was also where my first love worked at.

“You were from Leidenschaftlich...?”

“That’s right. I did say it in my self-introduction when I joined the department.”

“Well, I don’t listen to people I have no interest in...”

As expected, my junior gave a happy-looking smile with his whole face. “Sir, I like that you’re equally unfriendly to everyone. People only got close to me because of my title... and my family’s social standing... but Sir, you’re cold, and that feels nice.”

“Your suffocating actions are a pain in the ass to me. Besides, hum...”

“What is it, Sir?”

“Hum, say... is the CH Postal Company well-known?”

“Do you know Violet Evergarden?” – the reason why I couldn’t ask this was a literal embodiment of how much I lacked guts, I thought.

With an “aah”, my junior immediately made a face like the name rang a bell. “I know them. It’s the company of that businessman, Claudia Hodgins, right? They’re popular. Shocking that the name of a company would come from you.”

“I’m an adult, after all. I’d know the name of one or two renowned businesses at least.”

“That’s a lie, ain’t it? I already know you don’t have interest in anything but stars. Erm... if I’m not wrong, all the postal companies of Leiden got sucked into it. They also succeeded in company split-ups. Their president is a celebrity too. The newspaper series where he talks to other entrepreneurs is a trend... It got adapted into a book just recently. There’s a chapter in the extra edition where he talks to his secretary and the president of an affiliated company, and it’s so fun. The book’s in my room at the headquarters, so you can take it with you and read it all you want.”

“Is there nothing about business in that book? Like, about the Auto-Memories Doll field... Hum, according to my research, there should be a rather famous Auto-Memories Doll in it... Don’t know if she’s still there, though.”

I timidly attempted to ask, yet it seemed my junior didn’t know the details. That was expected. The number of people who could hire Auto-Memories Dolls was limited, so hardly anybody would know even the name of a famed Doll unless it was someone marginally acquainted with them.

“I wonder. I do sorta know that they apparently have one real beauty of a Doll. But I also have a good-looking face... so I don’t yield to beauties from here and there.”

“Got it. Thanks for the info. And for the nice conversation. Go home.”

“Sir...! If you get bored of being alone, please remember me!”

Leaving behind my clingy junior, I took off from that place. I strutted with a hand in my pocket.

My junior wasn’t a bad guy. He had a high-handed personality but fit into the category of good person. He must have talked to me like that because he knew about my background as an orphan who had lost his parents and got a job at the astronomical observatory by way of assistance from Shaher. Meaning he was worried about his senior, who would be spending his vacation alone with no lover or family. The reason why he had invited me to a house where his family would be was probably that he was exposing his intentions in his own way.

——But to hell with that.

I wanted to be alone. To say that the people who thought I was pitiful were the actual pitiful ones was my essence. I had always enjoyed watching the stars by myself anyway, and I enjoyed books about stars too. Book reading wasn’t meant to be done with two people, right? I liked being alone. This was also because I had lived a life of accepting solitude for a long time, but if anything, it was harder for me to settle down when I was in someone’s company.

When I turned the street corner and confirmed that he finally wasn’t following me anymore, I let out a relieved sigh.

——Alone at last. Time and space just for me.

The times when I was by myself like this were the ones I felt most comfortable in, and while I did have some things to reflect upon in that regard, unfortunately, I didn’t have a family to pester me about having children, unlike the rest of society. Because I was alone.

——I get that it isn’t a good thing.

There were things that you couldn’t get used to or change, despite understanding why you should. I was equal parts as obstinate as I felt inferior to those who had families. Only one person had ever made me want to be with her for a little longer when I was in her company.

——Only one.

Our circumstances were similar and we were also alike in that we were burdened with loneliness, but it wasn’t as if I liked her because of the similarity. It was because she seemed like she would be all right even if she were on her own, so I had wished to stay by her side. To get close to her. I “liked” her in that way. It wasn’t as if I wanted her to do something for me. I was the one who wanted to do something for her. It was that kind of “like”.

It had happened a long time ago.

After we had spent a little time together, she left. When we were bidding our farewells, I stopped her and confessed.

“Violet.”

I told her I was in love with her. I didn’t ask her, “I like you, so what do you wanna do?” – I simply told her I liked her.

“I’m... I’m... in the codex department now, but... I actually wanted to be in the literature collecting department like my father.”

She gave me this answer: the way that she cherished me was different.

“I had my hopes up that maybe my mother would come home one day if I waited here, bringing my father back with her... so I kept shutting myself in until this age, without ever stepping off into the outside world. That was possible in this place and I wanted it myself. But... just now...”

But if we ever happened to meet again, she wanted to spend time with me.

“I’ve just made up my mind. I’ll go around the world like you.”

In that moment, the woman who had said that she couldn’t feel emotions...

“I might face danger. I might lose my life without anyone ever finding my body, just like my parents. But—But that’s okay. I’m thinking of choosing that path.”

...smiled at me like a normal girl, looking happy, and told me something.

“If I do that, I’m sure we might get to meet someday, somewhere, under a starry sky. We’re both gypsies. And if that happens, will you...”

——...watch the stars with me again?

“Yes, Master.”

She told me that. She said it. This alone was already enough for me. This alone gave me the courage to come out of the world that I had been secluding myself in. Even if my love wasn’t requited, even if we never saw each other again, I was so happy.

She.

Violet.

Violet Evergarden.

Just that – just the fact that she had promised to watch the stars with me – had made me happy to the point of changing my life.

I kept making transfer requests ever since that day, finally earned approval and ventured myself into the outside world. The world other than Iustitia that I saw for the first time was bustling with a dizzying variety of things, which made me regret secluding myself. But surely, if I hadn’t met her, I would have taken a lot longer to go outside. No, I might have never left that bird cage to begin with.

That environment where I was allowed to wallow was terribly indulgent. After all, everyone was awfully nice to me for not being able to stand up, just because I was sad.

I didn’t simply think that I would definitely get to see her at least once. The probability of an astronomer and an Auto-Memories Doll, who had spent time together at work, meeting even once was surely the same as the meteor we had seen that day – once every two hundred years.

I was being ridiculous. If I really wanted to see her, I should just go visit her postal company in Leiden. The reason why I didn’t do it was that I was scared. That maybe her words were just out of friendliness, and that, if we did meet, she wouldn’t even remember me and I would be rejected. On top of being terrified of this, I also had a dream.

That if we ever happened to reunite, I wanted us to meet again truly by coincidence, under a starry sky.

If something like that really were to happen, just what would I do? Would I smile? Cry? Or ask for her love again?

I nodded at a passerby who had almost collided with me and started walking again. I had no particular destination. I could also go back to the headquarters just like this and be an idle bookworm in my own room, but going sightseeing around this city for at least a little bit was also good.

——I won’t get to see Violet if I stay in that place.

I had no free time to spend money, so I could afford the luxury of staying at a remotely nice hotel. Having made up my mind, I went into the main street and began looking for accommodation in the desert capital.

   Local idioms were honestly my weak point. Even though it was a common language, it was hard to catch because of the many dialects. When I talked to elders, I was done for.

However, I could perfectly understand that the inn’s owner, an old gentleman, had treated me like a “young lady”. Of course, I told him he was mistaken, but he didn’t hear it. He led me to my room with a hand around my hips.

The room was quite a high-class one, so I let it slide. If it were my old self, I would have been as furious as a raging fire. But I had grown up. By holding back my anger, I would manage to spend the night in a proper bed, where it didn’t seem like bugs would show up, so becoming an adult was for the best. Even if my self-respect decreased a little.

While I was chilling in the room and writing my diary, the sun went down in a blink of eye and it was getting late into the evening.

   “Heave-ho.”

It was the dead of night. I put on warm clothes and prepared myself to go out.

I wanted to observe the desert’s starry sky at my own leisure. As our activities had been limited to daytime ever since we had arrived here, I was now finally getting to do the things that I actually felt like doing. I had watched it together with everyone else from the windows of the cheap inn that the literature collecting department’s personnel had stayed at, but as expected, I wanted to see it from a spacious place with no noise or anything of the sort. As a scholar born in the so-called “capital of stargazing”, I obviously was going to have my fill of the desert’s night sky.

Unable to contain my feelings of excitement, I left the room after my lips relaxed a bit. For the heck of it, I greeted the innkeeper and told him I was going to see the stars. When I did so, he made a worried-looking face.

Apparently, women were forbidden of wandering outside at night in these lands. He couldn’t stop me from going out since I wasn’t a local, but warned me not to get too close to men. It wasn’t as if there were many ruffians among the people who walked around at night, but simply that this city had this kind of culture, so if the men suddenly spotted a woman, they might think badly of it. I had grown up in a men’s dormitory watching a bunch of idiots, so I understood what he was trying to say.

I showed him the retractable cane I was holding, and while I was at it, I also demonstrated with one swing that a blade came out from the tip as well. It was not for killing anyone, but it sufficed for making the other party recoil and holding them back.

Receiving the innkeeper’s applause from behind, I ventured myself outside.

The temperature gaps between nighttime and daytime was extreme in the desert. Having been raised in a mountaintop astronomical observatory, I was used to areas where there was a discrepancy in temperatures between day and night, but even then, I could bring myself to deem it as comfortable due to differences in humidity. The instant I stepped outside, I shuddered with a “brr”.

However, I forgot the cold as soon as I saw the sight spreading overhead. Surely, God must have dropped His jewel box. The starry sky unfolded in a way that made even someone like me come up with such a poetic saying.

Due to the fact that it was nighttime, there were few people out, but it wasn’t as if nobody was wandering about the city. Just as the innkeeper had said, it seemed that someone with a womanly appearance (I wasn’t a woman at all, though) walking around did catch people’s eyes, as they called to me countless times. I put myself on guard in each of those instances, and everyone withdrew with the same caution as the innkeeper.

Not letting the women walk around late at night was also meant for protecting them.

I had heard that there was a place for stargazing aimed at tourists somewhere a little far from the city, so I headed there, for safety as well. Several tents were erected around the sparse green area. In addition to privately built tents, there were also merchant tents selling drinks and food.

After looking through the signboards with the prices of the alcohol and warm soups that people of this region consumed and were familiar with, I picked the alcohol. I was an adult now and on vacation, so I told myself that it was okay to drink today and gave myself permission.

I went for a cloudy-colored alcoholic drink simmered in a large pot called the witch’s cauldron. It was warm and sweet, with a slightly spicy aftertaste. It warmed your body when you drank it and was the best delicacy to savor in cold weather.

Some people invited me to enter their tents, but I refused and steadily began setting up by arranging the astronomical observation tools that I had prepared. I assembled a demountable astronomical telescope over the sheets.

Even though this was said to be a place for stargazing, not everyone seemed to be astronomy freaks like in Iustitia – most of them were lying on the ground, enjoying a conversation with their companions while relishing in the jewels of the night. Everyone other than myself had simple handheld telescopes, so a few locals started appearing fussily around me, looking greatly interested. If anything, there weren’t just tourists.

A young father who had a child with him shyly came to ask me, “How much is it for you to let us take a look?” Apparently, he had mistaken me for a merchant.

“I don’t take money for it. It’s something for me to enjoy myself.”

The young parent made a bewildered face at my blunt reply, but nervously stepped in front of the kid and said, “It’s okay even if it’s just for a little bit, couldn’t you let this child take a peek?”

“Sure, it’s fine.”

He was also surprised at my ready consent. As he asked one more time if I really wasn’t going to charge for it, I declared that I wasn’t, swearing by this land’s god.

I beckoned the child. Our heights didn’t match since he was too small, so I lifted him by the hips.

“Can you see them?”

“Just a tad higher.”

“This much?”

“Amaziiing.”

At the child’s delighted look, the father and I locked eyes with each other and laughed. Then, other people who had been surrounding us at a distance came over one after another, asking me to let them see next. Whenever I said that I wasn’t charging any fee, they would ask me back, “Are you a saint or what?”.

In a land where you could see such beautiful stars, astronomical telescopes weren’t wild-spread among locals, enjoyed only by tourists and outsiders. That was probably the case. For them, this was an expensive item brought by outsiders. The stars were beautiful enough at naked eye, so if I had to say it, telescopes weren’t necessary. But if there was something that would help them see better, there would obviously be people saying that they want to take a look.

——Guess I’m gonna contact Shaher’s donors and indicate this place as a potential donation site.

If this pleased so many people, maybe it would be nice to have a telescope that everyone could look into, just as there were benches where everyone could sit on along the streets. I liked stars, so it made me happy even if just one more person fell in love with them.

“Having fun?”

“We are! You’re so generous!”

The figure of an elderly man much older than myself smiling like a boy, looking extremely happy, struck home pretty hard. It wasn’t like I wanted to hang out with anyone or that I had a preference for getting along with everybody. That wasn’t the case at all.

“This thing’s pricey, ain’t it? You okay with people touchin’ it without a care?”

“It’s not made for decoration; it’s something to look at.”

But these kinds of moments were nice.

——Very nice.

If these once-in-a-lifetime encounters would increase the proportion of stargazing in someone’s life, nothing could make me happier.

——When I get old, I guess I’m gonna run a rent-a-telescope or something like that somewhere.

I decided to take a few steps back and let everyone enjoy themselves.

This sensation that the joy of the surroundings was becoming more and more contagious. This feeling that people were gathering there only out of curiosity and adventurous spirit, not for profit. It didn’t seem fitting of my usual self, but something like this was also conceivable every once in a while.

With nothing to do, I naturally started looking around. Wonderful night, wonderful atmosphere.

The figure of someone standing still amongst it all entered my field of vision even without me wanting to. Everyone else had a companion.

The person was clad in dola like me and had a veil covering her face. From her physique, I could somehow presume that she was probably a woman.

Hoping that no weirdos would go talk to her, I worried about and kept watch over the woman, just like people had done for me. If she got caught up by anybody, should I intervene?

I used to hate women, yet here I was, concerning myself with one. I might have a misconstrued sense of justice, but I at least had to care.

I was just looking at her for a little while simply for that reason, but the instant that the wind blew strongly, all of my nerves became her captive. Her veil came off. It came off just slightly and I could see her face.

Her golden hair fluttered leniently. Her shapely profile was exposed under the starry sky. This beauty that could be discerned even in the nightly darkness was breathtaking.

It was really just a few seconds’ time and she immediately fixed the veil back on tight, but I had already seen her, so I knew. I knew.

I knew who that was.

Distancing myself from the telescope, I walked unsteadily towards her. Like winged bugs that gathered up to light.

This person literally shone like a lantern in my life. It was fire that wouldn’t disappear, no matter how much time passed. Time only strengthened the flame’s vigor.

That was why, aah, I... I...

“Violet Evergarden... is that you?”

That was why I called to her at that moment, with a shrill voice. As she looked at me, her eyes slowly crinkled, the corners of her lips went up and she smiled at me.

I felt like tearing up at that.

“It has been a while, Master.”

I had dreamed of this.

“Is it really you?”

I had dreamed of this day.

“Yes, Master.”

Always had been.

“Stupid, I’m not your master anymore... I have a name too... You’ve probably forgotten about it, but I... My name is...”

I had dreamed of this day and had always been thinking about what to say if we ever got to meet again.

“Mr. Leon Stephanotis. Is ‘Mr. Leon’ all right?”

If it were under a starry sky with not a single cloud, we could talk about its bare beauty. If it were on a rainy day, we could discuss the mythology related to the constellations.

“Did I mistake it? I have confidence in my memorization skills, but...”

If it were on a night where a once-in-every-two-centuries meteor were to pass by, we could share stories of the past in which we had observed the sky together.

“No... you got it right. You got it... Just ‘Leon’ is fine... Violet, the time you spent with me was so long ago, and yet, you sure... managed to...”

I had dreamed of this. You had no idea, did you, Violet Evergarden?

“You sure managed to remember.”

You were my first love. The first person I fell for. That day was the first time I confessed to someone.

“Leon, do you recall the promise we made?”

I opened the door to courage. I opened it thinking it would be okay even if I got hurt. But instead of hurting me, you accepted it. You broke my love to pieces, but still acknowledged it.

“Yeah.”

I had dreamed of this. Of this moment. You didn’t have to remember it. You could have forgotten what you had said to me. But if nothing else, I wanted to have one more look at you before I died.

“Have you memorized...”

One more time.

“...the names of a few stars?”

I wanted to see you one more time.

Violet Evergarden. I – the sixteen-year-old Leon Stephanotis – was in love with you.

He was in love with you. So was my current self. Now that you were in front of me, I could tell as much, even if I didn’t want to.

The flame inside my chest was saying, “This woman is the one who started the fire.” It told me that you were the woman who burned me up. You had burned me, and you still were. You melted everything that I had locked up within ice. It told me that you were the woman of my fate.

Violet wordlessly nodded in agreement. She nodded like a child. She was happy that I remembered what she had told me – I could tell by the facial expression she was making.

——You used to be so expressionless and doll-like – who was it that changed you so much?

You weren’t a doll anymore now. More like a girl who had someone’s love. You didn’t look like anything but that in my eyes ever since you were with me, though. But now, surely you had someone. This someone had changed you to that point, right?

“Violet,” I said, suppressing the pain of my sweltering chest. “If you have some time, won’t you spend it with me?” I asked.

I was attempting to open the door to courage again. Regardless of what awaited me beyond it, even if I regretted opening it. I asked nevertheless.

You changed me. You made me who I was. You probably didn’t know that. You didn’t have to.

“Yes, by all means.”

And this beautiful woman in front of me, too.

“I had been waiting for a day to come when I inform you about the fruits of my studies.”

Surely, she had also been made by someone.

“Should we ever meet, I had wanted to report them to you, even if you did not remember.”

Envy, affection and attachment ran through my body.

“That is what I was thinking.”

My sixteen-year-old self was screaming. “I was in love with you. I was in love with you. I was in love with you. I’m in love with you. Even now, I still like you,” he shouted.

I no longer had any of the youth and recklessness of those days. However, regarding my love for her, the me from back when I confessed to her was still here.

“I’m sure what I’m gonna say now will trouble you. But would you listen?”

I was still here. That version of me was still inside me.

Violet Evergarden, you...

“You can laugh if you want; you see...”

...to me, you... a woman like you was...

“You were my first love.”

Violet Evergarden, you...

“I still like you. Forgive me.”

To me, you were a woman of the stars.

[tessiete]

Prompt request where crechemates Obi Wan, Quinlan, and Luminara catch up after Obi Wan’s year on Mandalore. They’re Jedi but they’re also lifelong friends and Obi Wan is sad...

ANON!!! I’m so sorry this has taken ages, but you know - we did it! Thank you so much for the prompt. It was an absolute joy to write Luminara, and try to meld together my Legends peeps with canon. ❤️❤️❤️

THIS TOO SHALL PASS

He comes back changed, so different that in that first brief moment between arrival and recognition, Luminara thinks she’s never known him at all. There’s a stiffness to his spine that speaks of something deeper than injury, and a weariness to his eyes that comes not from fatigue, but wisdom. His master’s hand lingers on his shoulder, and Obi-Wan leans into the touch, his frame trailing like the tail of a comet in Qui-Gon’s wake. But then he sees her, and he smiles, and he looks like he always has.

“Senior Padawan Luminara,” he says, stepping close and bowing deep. “I heard the good news on the platform as soon as we touched down. Congratulations.”

She bows back, neither as deeply, nor as grave, his impish humour undeserving of too much indulgence.

“And you as well, padawan,” she says. “Only you would manage to find a Council-sanctioned reason for skipping an entire year of Astronav.”

“I had nothing to do with it,” he says, eyes alight with mirth. “It was a matter of utmost political delicacy, and I am honoured that the Council, as well as the Chancellor himself saw fit to trust my master and I with such a task.”

“Ah, yes,” she says. “You are well known for your love of politicians. Tell me, is the Duchess of Mandalore very pretty?”

He falters then, a furrow forming between his brows, his lashes fluttering and eyes sliding away from hers in search of something that isn’t there. Ah. She raises her hand, and with a slender forefinger, smoothes away the crease.

“Hush, Obi-Wan,” she says. “This too will pass in time.”

He takes her hand in his, and holds tight. A smile, just as tight, flits bravely across his face, and he inhales sharp, and bright.

“It’s nothing,” he says. Then, as though for proof he adds, “And she was very pretty.”

But Luminara isn’t fooled at all.

She watches him at meals, and in classes - though with a year between them now, their schedules don’t quite match as neatly as they once had. Still, she sees. There are the usual things that linger in any padawan, or knight, after more difficult missions, of course. He keeps his back to the wall. He looks for exits. He always is the last to leave a room, and tries to be the first to enter one, but there is more than that.

There is a softness now. It’s...it’s nearly unnoticeable, and even more undefinable, but there is something soft about him that wasn’t there before. He listens more attentively. He watches more carefully. He frowns and thinks before he speaks, and the little furrow between his brows is remembered by his skin.  He leans close when she whispers to him, so near that his hair grazes gently over her lips, and he doesn’t stare at Siri anymore. Not like he used to. But he laughs, and he offers her his hand instinctively, when they take an aircar to the lower districts one evening.

He has learned intimacy.

“Must’ve been some kind of girl!” Quinlan shouts, as they reminisce over drinks in a seedy little club in CocoTown. Obi-Wan grimaces as Quin lands a jocund punch on his bicep. He’s in high spirits tonight, having managed to scrape his way through Theoretical Basic with Obi-Wan’s help. “I know you’d never leave me to suffer as I did for just anyone.”

“Cut it out, Quin,” says Siri, knocking back a shot of something thick and glowing. “Can’t you see he’s distraught?”

“I’m not distraught,” Obi-Wan protests. “I’m just embarrassed to be out in public with you lot.”

“Aw, Obi-Bi,” says Quinlan. “You missed us. Admit it. There’s no duchess in this entire Force-forsaken galaxy that can hold a candle to the pleasure of my company.”

“Oh, please,” scoffs Siri, her mouth grimacing at the sour twist of liquor and Quinlan’s own peculiar arrogance. “You make Gardulla the Hutt look like Alderaanian royalty.”

“Hey Tachi,” says Quinlan, “Aren’t you too young to be out without your master?”

“Hey Vos,” she retorts, “Aren’t you too old to still have one?”

He flicks a protato wedge across the table, which Siri dodges easily, snatching it out of the air with a deft application of the Force, and eating it while he protests her theft.

“I paid for that!”

Garen laughs, while Reeft is too busy scarfing down half a nerf to offer his opinion one way or another. But Luminara watches. Obi-Wan smiles, and smiles but it never lasts for longer than he is observed. It falls away quickly when he drops his eyes, or ducks his head as though the weight of it is pulling his whole being down. His presence in the Force isn’t dimmed. He is as cool, and clear as he has ever been, but she cannot sound him. Like the ocean, he is fathoms deep.

She nudges his foot beneath the table, and he looks at her, attentive to whatever she might need, for surely there is something he might do, something he might say that would fulfill her want and distract him from his own. But she only cocks her head, and studies him, mouthing “Are you okay?” over empty drek and ale bottles.

He blinks. Confusion springs up like a keen defensive blade and he nods as though she were a fool for asking. She presses her lips until they are thin as flimsi, and takes a sip of drek.

“Here, Obi,” says Quin, shoving a shot into his hand. “You and me are gonna drink Tachi under the table.”

“And no purging,” Siri adds. She raises her own glass in salute. “Last woman standing wins!”

And with a cry, and an encouraging hand guiding his own, Obi-Wan joins in the competition, drinking until Quinlan winds up half-conscious in the fresher, and Siri is slapped with a lifetime ban. Reeft, and Garen stagger off to Dex’s, while as penance, Siri vows to see Quinlan safely to the Halls of Healing. Hopefully Bant is on duty and will take pity on them.

“If I really grovel, she might even hook us up with one of those Corellian selamine drips!” Siri slurs, Quinlan draped over her shoulders and drowsing.

Luminara seriously doubts that is a possibility, but says nothing. She only nods encouragingly, and adjusts her hold on her own unstable burden. Obi-Wan has fared better than Quinlan, knowing better than to challenge Siri to a bet, and having learned, somewhere along the way, that some battles are better left unfought, but still he struggles to keep his feet, and Luminara braces herself to steady him.

They squeeze into the aircar together, but are forced to walk the last few blocks to the Temple, when Quinlan unceremoniously vomits out the back window. Most of it is whipped away by the wind, but their driver is furious, and refuses to go any further. And while guiding the steps of three drunken beings is more tedious than simply shoving them in a taxi had been, there is some fortune in this outcome as they manage to make it past Temple security with far less notice than if they’d had to be cleared at the private docks.

Still, Siri and Quinlan make no secret of their passage, laughing and giggling at every missed step or absent whim. At the crossroads between quarters and the Halls, she waits until they stagger out of sight before turning her charge towards his master’s rooms. He’s quiet, pliant, and easily led - a state that she cannot attribute to anything except the quantity of drink in his system, since his stubborn willfulness is something which was left quite unchanged.

“Come on, Obi-Wan,” she whispers, as they approach his chamber door. “Help me out, here.”

She nudges him in the ribs, and lifts his arm while his head lolls sideways to tuck under her chin. She feels his lips against her neck, his breath hot. He smells of sweat, and stale cigarra, and brittle nighttime wind.

“Rejorhaa'ir ni meg gar copad, Sat’ika.”

The words are soft, reverent, hardly more than a kiss upon her skin, and Luminara knows they are not for her. She shakes him harder. Hard enough to dislodge him from his perch atop her collarbone, and drop him into wakefulness.

“Satine?” he mumbles, blinking in the dark. He speaks the name like an orison, and Luminara feels her heart ache with the weight of his prayer.

“I’m not Satine,” she says. “You’re home now. You have to open the door and go in.”

“What?”

“The door, Obi-Wan.” She nudges him further ahead, forcing his feet to accept the responsibility of gravity.

He stumbles, but catches himself, and lets out a sigh.

“Master Qui-Gon is never going to let me hear the end of this,” he says, pressing his palm flat beside the door, and staggering through as it slides away with a hiss.

She follows him in, catching him at the waist as he makes an aborted attempt to collapse across the couch in the common room. His hand hits a clay pot, sending it spinning, and his foot strikes a hollow note against the little wooden table at his side.

“Careful,” she scolds, righting the plant, and listening for the sound of a wakeful master. “We’re going to go to your room.”

“Ah, Padawan Unduli, you’re trying to sed-”

“Padawan Kenobi, keep quiet, lest you wake your master.”

“Right,” he says. And that is sufficient threat, for he keeps any further jibes and jokes to himself as they pick their way down the hall to his room.

This time, she opens the door, her hand firmly in the middle of his back as she escorts him in. The room is still musty from his time away, and though it is no bigger than any standard issue room in any other double suite, it still feels empty and cavernous around them. Obi-Wan hasn’t lived here in a very long time. The walls themselves have forgotten him.

“Thanks for helping me home,” he says. He drops upon his bed, shrugging off his cloak and pulling at the clasps upon his boots. His fingers are wild and clumsy. She watches him struggle for a moment, before pity takes hold, and she kneels down to assist. She brushes his hands aside, and he falls back against the wall, his breaths rasping loudly in the dark.

“If you’re going to be sick let me know,” she says, with a brow raised in barest concern. “I don’t want you to aspirate on your own.”

“I’m not going to be sick,” he insists, voice thick.

“Or if you’re going to cry,” she adds.

“I’m not,” he says. “I’m not. I missed you.””

She shucks the boots, and lifts his legs onto the bed, pulling a blanket across him. He closes his eyes but his jaw is tight, and that furrow in his brow remains. She reaches out to smooth it.

“I missed you, too. Sleep now,” she says. “And dream of lovely things.”

“I’d rather dream of nothing,” he whispers. “I’d rather not dream at all, if all I’ll see is her.”

His hand clenches over the edge of the sheets. She sits, and folds his hand beneath her own. In the stillness of this empty room, and the comfort of his childhood bed, he fights. He bites his lip, until the blood has fled, and the tender flesh turns white. He turns his head, and swallows hard, again and again to drown that anguish, to bridle that emotion, and master himself, just as a Jedi ought. At the corner of one eye, sorrow beads and slips across his cheek. She soothes that injury, too, and murmurs to him sweetly.

“Hush, Obi-Wan, you’re home, now. You’re safe. You’re here. I’m here. Be here, with me.”

“But I will never be there again,” he says, choking on the words as they break free. “She’s gone. She’s gone, and I’ll miss her forever. It’s all over, now.”

“It is,” she sighs, stroking his hair. It has grown long in a year, and his braid is nearly hidden. “It’s over, but it happened. You loved her. And she loved you.”

“I could have stayed,” he cries. “I would have left for her.”

“But you didn’t. You came back. Do you now regret it?”

He gasps. A wretched sob breaks loose, and he surges up, panic, and despair, and overwhelming loss sending him reeling into her arms. He weeps against her chest until he is exhausted, and her robes are crystalised with salt.

“You can still go back,” she whispers, a secret in his ear. “If you wanted. The choice is yours to make.”

He shakes his head, and tightens his grip.

“I made my choice,” he says, tongue thick and slow. But his tone is clear. His heart resolved. He knows what it is he speaks. “I am a Jedi. This is where I’m meant to be.”

“Then trust the Force,” she tells him, gently. “And trust yourself. This, too, shall pass in time.”

[isolemnlyswearpevensie]

16th Avenue | Edmund Pevensie x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of drugs and alcohol

Time/Era: Modern AU, Aged 19

Word Count: 2k 

Summary: A midnight adventure in which the only things available to Y/N and Edmund are limited cell service, saved Spotify playlists, and Y/N’s 15-year-old hatchback. 

Request: Hi! first I wanted to say that I love your stories, I discovered them recently but I already read them all, and then I wanted to know if you could write an Edmund x Reader based on the song I Think He Knows by Taylor Swift, thanks!

A/N: Basically a small town AU where two kids in their late teens are trying to find entertainment one late summer evening. 

masterlist | narnia playlist | read on ao3

Edmund laid in his bed with his phone held above his face, staring blankly at the illuminated screen. He read over the messages he shared with Y/N L/N, a girl he had met at university a few months before he moved home for the summer. The conversation, in his opinion, was rather flirty, but it teetered to close to the line between friendly teasing and romantic advances for Edmund to know for sure.

His room was sticky with heat, making all the warm air stick directly to his skin. He yearned to go swimming or at the very least take a shower, but running the water at half-past midnight would surely wake his entire family.

Moving back home for the summer seemed like a good idea at the time; he could save money, see his little sister, and spend a bit of time to himself. But, as time passes on, Edmund yearned for the freedom of his newfound adulthood and life away from his family. 

Y/N proved to be a saving grace in that aspect, as her family lived a few towns over from Edmund and she owned a car. It wasn’t a very attractive car, but it had a sunroof, large hatchback trunk, and an AUX cord, which is all you really needed. She always kept a few snacks and blankets in her backseat, too, so the car (which he learned was called Comet,) served as a little oasis in the boring world that was home. 

The brown curls on Edmund’s head stuck to his forehead in a thick layer of sweat; the August heat was proving to be too much for Edmund’s body. So he laid, duvet pushed in a heap at the foot of the bed, and overthought the texts. His finger teased the power button as the heat lulled him closer to sleep. 

That was until Y/N’s typing bubble popped up on the screen. Panic surged in his chest and he shot up from his bed to pace around the dark room. His only source of light was the screen of his phone, which made his face appear slightly blue due to the screen. 

pulling up in 10. be ready. 

Edmund looked down at his appearance; the skin of his bare chest was moist from sweat and his boxer briefs clung to his toned thighs. 

are you crazy? My mother will kill me if they knew I was out at this hour. 

The metal box fan clanked in the corner as if it were a washing machine full of tennis shoes. 

so? we’ve been over this. you’re 19, not 9. loosen up, pevensie. 

Edmund took a deep breath before dressing himself in as lightweight clothes as possible and packing his backpack. He never packed heavily, but he grabbed some headphones, a phone charger, a flashlight, a pack of gum, and a sweatshirt. It was doubtful that the sweatshirt would be needed, but it could potentially be used as a blanket for the two to lay on, or rolled in a ball to form a pillow. 

The door to Edmund’s room squeaked loudly as he opened it, making all of the muscles in his body tighten. He glanced at his sister’s door and breathed a breath of relief when there was no movement behind it. All he had to do was make it out the door without being noticed. 

“Ed?” Lucy’s voice sounded through the darkness at the exact moment Edmund’s hand came in contact with the front doorknob. 

“Lu,” He responded nearly frozen in place. 

“Where are you going?” The bag of pretzels in her hand crinkled. Ed mentally cursed himself for forgetting she was a midnight snacker. 

“Somewhere,” He pulled the door open with a single movement of his arm. “Do me a favor and don’t tell?”

She popped one of the pretzels and chewed it completely before responding. “Tell me where you’re going and I might consider it.” 

“I’m going out with Y/N, there are you happy now?” 

Her eyes widen and she smiles, “Like, on a date?” 

“No, I don’t think so. We’ll probably just drive around and chat.” The headlights from Comet shine through the open door and blind the two siblings. “Promise not to tell?” 

“I promise! But really, Ed, you better lock her down. The good ones never wait,” 

Edmund nods, shutting the door before half-jogging to get in the passenger side of the hatchback. 

“Pevensie! I thought you were going to wimp out on me when I saw you staring into the darkness with the door open.” She looked over her shoulder to check for cars before making a U-turn. 

“Oh, yeah, I was talking to my little sister. I had to convince her not to tell my mother,” Edmund forced a chuckle. 

“Your sister still lives at home? I thought she went to that one uni in, like, Scotland?” The crystal hanging from the mirror swung side to side as Y/N steered. It was oddly mesmerizing. 

“That’s my older sister, Susan. I’m talking about my younger sister, Lucy. She’s 17.” 

Y/N made a small “o” with her mouth and nodded. “It must be nice to be in such a big family, you guys all sound so close.” She pulled the car onto one of the main roads, which was completely empty at this hour. The thrilling feeling of spontaneity settled in Edmund’s stomach and any reservations he had about coming faded into existence. 

“Yeah, I guess it’s fun. That is until you realize my mother has a bad case of empty nest syndrome and has her heart set on keeping me inside the entire summer,” 

“Is that why you are only ever able to hang out past midnight?” 

Edmund chuckled for real this time. Something about Y/N’s constant teasing made his heart fly in the most carefree way possible. 

“Yeah, I have to sneak out the front door so she doesn’t see me, her 19-year-old son, leave the house without permission.” 

Y/N gasped, whipping her head to look at the boy. “How dare a 19-year-old leave the house without Mummy’s permission! Are you trying to give Helen a heart attack?” The two erupt into laughter, making Y/N grip her faded steering wheel cover even harder.

 “Come on, Dj Ed, why aren’t you playing music?” One of her hands found the AUX cord and threw it onto Edmund’s lap. He stares at it for a second before connecting his phone. “Play the playlist we listened to last time, I liked that one.”

The street lamps on the road became less and less frequent as they continued to drive further into the country. Edmund had never been in this direction before, at least to his knowledge; It was always hard to distinguish places at night. Y/N, however, was very familiar with where they were going. Living in such a small town, Y/N had ventured out as soon as she got a driver’s license in order to find any smidge of entertainment. That was when she found 16th Avenue. 

“Where are we going?” Edmund asked at last. He had to speak loudly over the music blasting through the speakers. 

Y/N made a left turn down a pitch-black dirt road, which appeared to be more of a ditch than a street. It was in the middle of two very large fields, one wheat, and one corn, which were illuminated by Comet’s headlights. It looked like the setting of a horror movie and seemed as though a monster was going to jump on the car at any moment. A nervous feeling filled Edmund’s lungs. 

“Welcome 16th avenue, Ed.” Y/N’s happy tone made her companion relax a bit. Not a lot, but a bit. 

“It looks like some possessed scarecrow is going to run across the road at any moment,” Edmund half-joked, fiddling with his backpack strap. 

Y/N giggled and pulled off the road and into the wheat field. The crops had been parted previously, it appeared, so there was a little path big enough for the hatchback to squeeze through. 

“Why would there be a possessed scarecrow? This town is much too boring for paranormal activity.”

The path soon widened into a large circle clearing and Y/N parked the car. Before turning off the engine, she opened the sunroof, rolled down the windows, and lowered her seat. 

“Lay your seat back, Pevensie,” Y/N instructed before getting out and opening the trunk. Edmund obeyed and watched as she circled the car to return to the driver’s seat. 

“Tada,” She bent her knees so she was laying back and her shins were resting against the steering wheel. “16th avenue, my favorite place ever.” 

“The stars are so bright out here,” Edmund gazed up in wonder at the twinkling lights above. Canis major was perfectly visible through the roof. 

“I know, it’s so far from the city so there’s no light.” Y/N turns her face to admire Edmund in the moonlight. 

Half of his face was dark, but the part of his skin that was visible was smooth and blemish-free. Y/N’s eyes traced the curve of his button-nose to his sharp jaw. It appeared angular and strong, but Y/N couldn’t help but think how soft it would be to touch. His eyelashes batted beautifully against his rosy cheeks and the freckles that dusted his nose matched the constellations above. Edmund moved his head to match Y/N’s gaze, a blissful smile tugging at his lips. 

“Do I have something on my face?” He mumbles, having felt Y/N’s eyes trace every visible piece of him. 

“Other than your cute freckles and strong jaw? Nothing,” Y/N spoke before she overthought her words. Tonight was about adventure and risks. 

Edmund’s already heat stained cheeks darkened, his smile growing. “Cute? You’re the cute one,” The warm summer breeze whistled in through the windows and rustled their hair. 

“Not even, not when you have a face like that and a body like-” She gestures towards his lying form. “-that.” Y/N’s eyes followed the lines of his legs and up his torso. She wished she knew that body as well as she knew her own.

Edmund seemed to take a breath, “You took me all the way out of town and into a wheat field to call me cute, is what you’re saying.” His bashful smile turned cocky as he quirked his head upwards.  

“Well, yes and no. I brought you here because I was tired of waiting.” Y/N sat up and turned so she could see Edmund. He followed suit quickly. 

“Waiting for what?” 

“To finally see what’s under that attitude of yours,”  

Ed swallows the lump in his throat and scoots a bit closer. It wasn’t much closer, due to the center console, but it was enough to make the point. 

“There have always been sparks between us, you can’t deny that, Ed. So, I brought you here to chase them. The sparks, I mean. I want to chase them with you, if you want to, of course.” Y/N’s eyes never left Edmund’s as she spoke. 

“God, I want to. Fucking hell.” 

Edmund leaned over the console to capture Y/N’s lips in a well overdue kiss; the kiss the pair had been dreaming about for months. The warm air stuck to their bodies as they held each other the best they could. Y/N’s hands ventured into Edmund’s messy curls and his thumb rubbed into her thigh. Y/N felt him smile into the kiss and move the hand up her leg. 

Y/N thanked the universe that they were in the middle of nowhere as she climbed over to join Edmund on the passenger side of the car. 

[snowflake-apocalypse]

“English is a difficult language. It can be understood through tough thorough thought, though.”

“You need to stop.”

It’s been six months since the formation of Global Justice’s new aces, “Team Go-Possible”. Though, the rhyme and reason of it was wrong, Shego was actually enjoying the partnership with her former rivals. Dare she ever admit it out loud. The three grew to have a good dynamic, she thought. Between conversations about world events and the audacity of Club Banana creating a brach-off store, to the double-edged sarcasm they dished out to their adversaries in combat.

Team GP’s missions took them near and far around globe. This time, it was a nuclear power plant in the blustery Netherlands. Some madman claiming the greed of the world has grown to great. That he was the salvation it needed. His answer to said salvation? Implode the richest nuclear power plant in the world to prove his point.

This has got to be the seventh extremist kook we’ve taken on this month.. though the dude’s not wrong..

Kim and Shego are in route to the mountain side factory. Shego landing their sleek jet on an empty field with concentrated ease.“Okie dokie, let’s go get Mr. Doom Gloom before he turns the mountain side into a mushroom cloud-.” Shego powers their craft down, switching various instruments this way and that.

“-Don’t know about you, Kimmie but I’m looking forward to the bocca coffee. No stupid avalanche is going to ruin that.”

Double checking her equipment, Kim spares the woman a glance. “Heh, glad to know where your priorities are, Shego.-” Kim directs her attention to their mission control via comm link.

“-Hey, Wade you got a lock on our position?”

“Always do.” From GJ headquarters, the tech wiz of the team zooms his screen in on their target.

“That is the most creepy, heartwarming thing I’ve heard from you, Load.” Shego quips, donning her green and black cold weather apparel. When she accepted Betty’s offer, the one thing she swore is that she was keeping her colors.

“Uh..thanks? Anyway, I’ve scanned the interior of the facility, the reactor is located in the south side of the building.” Through the wrist-worn Kimmunictor, a holographic layout of the factory appears. Detailing the whereabouts of their target, only one heat signature appears on the layout. The reactor, they assume.

“Wade, this guy is working alone?” Kim quizzical asks, zooming in on the projection.

“From my latest update, yes. The building has been evacuated for safety. No other intel I’ve collected suggests multiple culprits.-“

Wade swipes through the limited file he has on their perp. He had an uneasy feeling about this caper, but couldn’t justify it from a hunch. “-But, please still be careful, you two.”

Shego, after getting one last solid look at the diagram, closes her hand on the blueprint. “Will do, dad. Thanks.”

——

Approaching the bolted door of the factory, Kim still voiced her concerns., “Y’know, I just wished we had more information on this guy.”

Shego directs a small concentration of searing plasma at the deadlock, freeing the door. “Yeah, well I wished they’d appear at GJ’s doorstep. Or just stayed home.”

Cautiously pushing the door open, Shego scans the left side of the interior, while Kim covers the right.

“Okay, Wade. It looks as empty as you said.- Wade? Wade.” Kim, only being met with silence, tries and fails to reach their partner. Somewhere along the trek, the so-called incorruptible signal was lost.

“Fan-freakin’-tastic. Guess the altitude is the weakness.” Rolling her eyes, Shego marches on. “Let’s just shut this joint down before we get any more surprises.” Despite her quiet tone, Shego’s voice echos throughout the vast building.

Creeping through the corridors, the women stay on alert. Passing abandoned offices, break rooms, only Kim’s quiet chatter fills the space. “Hey, about that coffee, you also want to stop at Portugal of the Little Ones?”

“Are you serious, Possible? You want to visit a tiny replica city in Portugal?” Shego raises an eyebrow in Kim’s direction.

“...Yeah.”

If you don’t stop making that damn face...

“..Okay, fine. Portugal.” Shego huffs in faux annoyance. The pair rounded the corner to the vast power center of the facility, the two spot the ticking time bomb.

“Bingo!” Shego exclaimed, running up to the reactor. Which had been armed with specialized munitions.

“This is new.. Newer. What the hell kind of explosive is this?” The younger agent puzzles.

The device, almost cybernetic, jet-black with a single blinking blue light. Upon closer examination, Shego makes out a faintly marked two-pronged arch on the surface. Gaping at the realization, she snaps of her shock.

“No.. No way...”

“What’s up? What is it?”

“This looks like a prototype product of Gemini’s splinter cell scientists. Before he broke off to W.E.E. It’s not on a timer, it’s remote detonation.”

“Gemini? Hold on, then how is some random guy get a his hands on-“

Before Kim could finish her statement, a man’s honeyed voice breaks through the atmosphere.

“Well, you always were the most observant of the team, Shego. Bravo.”

On the grated deck before them, stood a man. Medium build, piercing blue eyes, a mop of brown hair turning grey. All pulled together by a navy trench coat and tactical cargo slacks.

“Sorry, don’t think we’ve met. Unless I’ve taken you hostage or saved you from a flooding city before.” Shego deadpanned, hands resting on her hips.

Leisurely leaning on the rail of the balcony, a shiftiness displayed in his eyes. “Oh no, I didn’t expect you to be familiar with me. But I have been following the folly of Global Justice’s new dream team. I must say, you are quite the force to be reckoned with.”

“And we really don’t want you to find out why.” Kim interjects, conviction lacing her voice.

“-So if you could hand over the remote, shut down the detonation, then maybe we can reach an agreement.”

“Possible. Kim. Of all the people in the bloody world, I thought you would be one to know.. it’s never that simple.” Faster than her reflexes, the man draws a sleek laser-gun from his coat and fires upon the unsuspecting woman.

Center mass.

Direct hit.

“Gah!” With a cry, Kim covers the wound with her hand, bracing herself on her knees.

“Hey!” Shego booms. Hands ablaze, she charges their suspect... no, enemy now.

Kim, biting back the shock and pain, rises to her feet.

Damnit... Sloppy. Get up, Possible.

Kim averts her concentration back to the reactor. Without Wade, she scrambles to find a bypass way of disarming the bomb.

Firing scorching blast after blast, Shego dodges the rounds aimed at her. The room being filled with the leaden smell of burning metal, as the balcony gave way to the force of plasma.

“I swear, that god-forsaken organization is more concerned with the stock market and shiny toys than actual global security-and you! You radioactive madwoman, turn your back on your very profession! The Emerald Rage can’t even decide who’s side she’s on!” Anger and outrage boiling from the man the closer she got.

“Yeah.. y’know your twenties when you’re trying figure shit out... a lot of grey area and robberies in there.” Flipping onto the grate, Shego faces the man with a controlled fury.

“Oh, also I’m on my side and no one else’s. Which, coincidently is the side that doesn’t want a giant crater in the middle of the Netherlands!” Weaving between a few more shots, Shego disarms the man. She restrains him in a firm, plasma-fortified grip. Not enough juice for a second degree burn, but it sure wasn’t comfortable.

“Hello.” The welcome rolling off his tongue like an invitation.

Abruptly Shego is met with a viscous head-butt and a solid tungsten bracelet around her wrist.

“Grrr-! What the hell-!?” Collecting her wits, Shego paws at the metal. Kicking up the intensity of her powers in hopes of liquifying the substance.

Her foe stands back in smug satisfaction, watching her ferocity slowly turn to languid effort. Her flames spasmed, then doused like a candle in the wind.

Shego lightheaded and pale, collapses with heavy bang on the cold metal.

Crouching next fallen woman, he gingerly strokes her raven hair. Conceited grin never leaving his face. “Oh, my my. Did dear Mother Director not tell you about the adverse correlation between tungsten and the Aether comet? I don’t blame her. Must’ve been frightening for her to raise super-powered children, especially if she had no way of controlling them.”

The clamber drawing Kim away from her task, horror at watching the strongest person she knew hit the floor. “Shego!”

“No, no.” Motioning to the button on the detonator remote, he actives the explosives. Sending the entire right side of the structure up in blazing destruction.

Kim instinctively covers her head, in an effort to shield herself from the blast. Evading wooden beams and falling debris, Kim steels and drives on towards her ally.

Producing a small syringe from his coat, filled with a concentrated supply of the fatal alloy. He methodically pushed back the sleeve of Shego’s fleece, carefully injecting the liquid into her bloodstream.

“My father, Jeremiah Asbell had so much passion for his work. So much drive to create a better world. What did he receive for his endeavours? Scorn and betrayal by the very people he supported!-“

Jeremiah Absell.. Absell.. Dr. Absolute. Wait, he had a kid?

“-All to be handed back by some punk children who should’ve been left in a crater.”

As the tungsten courses through her system, melds with her mutated cells, Shego braces the pain gripping her body. She clenches her teeth, fighting for some kind of spark of her dwindling power.

Thanks, Betty. Chalk this up to another ‘I got your back, kid.’ move. Trust sure ran deep there.

With a flicker of ginger hair catching her attention behind a wall, Shego arduously motions her head to face Kim. Olive meets emerald eyes.

After all of the years they spent trading blows, like scorpions in a bottle, after the late night discussions they’d have when neither could sleep... they both knew that look. The look of unwavering determination meeting one of unabated stubbornness. With all of the unknown wild cards revealed, Shego couldn’t afford both of them being killed.

Mustering as much strength as she could, Shego discreetly raises her hand, stopping Kim in her tracks.

Don’t you dare.

[kumeko]

A/N: For the Kidge zine (2) that got cancelled sadly! Look at me, practicing AUs!

…

…

…

…

Keith always had a plan. It might not be entirely idiot-proof (working with Lance had proven that), but it was always solid and well-thought-out. Today was no exception—he’d break into the Lion Castle, steal the comet fragments hidden inside the tallest spire, and escape without leaving a trace.

 Well, realistically, he’d have to fight off a guard or two at least. Nothing ever went entirely according to plan and if he was honest, Lance wasn’t the only hothead in his guild.

 Still, things were going smoothly so far. He slipped into the castle in the dead of night, between rounds of patrols. Weaving his way through the shadows, he found a narrow staircase leading up the spire and, even better, ledges outside the tower that made it easy for him to scale all the way to the top floor. Inside the room, there was a single box on a single table, almost as though the Alteans were daring him to steal it.

 As his hand rested on the box, he paused. This was too easy, even for a mission without Lance. Keith glanced in the direction of the door but it was impossible to see through it and at the soldier standing guard outside. The lone torch in the room flickered and Keith shrugged off his suspicions. There was nowhere for anyone to hide in here. Maybe the Alteans hadn’t realized just how valuable this comet fragment was.

 Quickly, he pulled out a small black bag as he opened the box. Once he’d secured the comet—

 The box was empty.

Keith always had a plan but it never accounted for someone stealing the comet before him. Dumbfounded, he stared at the black velvet lining the box, blinking as he processed what he saw. “The fu—”

 As though to punctuate his swear, a building exploded just outside the window.

 -x-

 “Woah!” Pidge screamed, falling backwards from the shockwave of the explosion. She covered her ears, but it was too late; all she could hear was ringing. Dimly, she was aware the Hunk was yelling something, but he was always yelling and she could make a good guess about what it was. Knowing him, he was pointing at the ceiling. Or rather, where the ceiling used to be. Lying on her dorm floor, she stared up at the night sky.

 Well. That was a first. Her experiments sometimes got out of hand, but this was the first time she’d destroyed part of a building. Her floormates were going to kill her. It had been bad enough that she had burned her hair the last time her spell got out of hand and set off the fire alarm. At least they’d started talking to her in class again after a week. This? She was going to get shunned permanently.

 “Oh god, you’re going to get expelled,” Hunk moaned, his voice slowly rising with each word. “I’m going to get expelled. I told you we shouldn’t have done this but nooo, you just had to do it. You just had to figure out what that stupid rock was for before anyone else could.”

 “I didn’t think it’d be that powerful,” Pidge grunted, sitting up. She almost wished her hearing hadn’t come back. Rubbing an ear, she gestured at the sparkling rock that lay on the floor in front of her. “I thought it’d just amplify our powers a little.”

 “If it wasn’t powerful, it wouldn’t have been locked up,” Hunk hissed in response. He paced back and forth on the floor, cradling his head in his hands. “You don’t think they’ll make us pay for all of this? I can’t afford this.”

 A high-pitched siren sounded, cutting off the rest of his rant and Pidge jumped to her feet. “Oh shit.”

 “The intruder alarms? But those—” Hunk turned to her, horror dawning on his face. “What’d you do?”

 “They must have found the people I knocked out.” Pidge darted to the door, poking her head out. “No one’s outside.”

 “You knocked out people?” Incredulous, Hunk stared at her like she’d grown a second head. “Who are you?”

 “Hey, it was heavily guarded!” Pidge scowled. Closing the door behind her, she stepped into the center of the room and stared up at the ceiling. “We must have a spell that could fix that.”

 “What’re you going to do, grow your vines?” Hunk scoffed, crossing his arms. “We can’t hide this. There’s an alarm sounding because everyone knows what we did.”

 “I just want to make it look a little less bad.” Pidge bit her lip, squinting up at the broken rafters. They had to have learned a spell in class about construction. Maybe if she checked her notes, she could find it. “Just something so we don’t actually get expelled.”

 “It’s way too late for that,” Hunk sighed, burying his face in his hands.

 Pidge rolled her eyes. If she wanted to get anything done, she had to get rid of him. “Yeah, yeah, you just go keep watch, I’ll figure something out.” She pushed him insistently toward the door.

 “Watch?” Hunk looked over his shoulder at her but didn’t fight the movement.

 “Yeah, so no one catches me. Just give me a heads up if anyone comes to check.” Pulling open the door, she pushed Hunk outside quickly. “I’ll go make it less noticeable.”

 “This is a stupid idea,” Hunk grumbled, but he started walking toward the staircase anyways. “So very stupid—”

 Not waiting to hear the rest of his rant, Pidge quickly closed the door shut. Okay, she just had to find the right spell and hide the comet and then they could figure out the rest tomorrow. A good night’s sleep could cure anything, even certain expulsion.

 “So this is where it was?”

 Pidge froze at the stranger’s voice. Was it a guard? Already? She turned around, silently cursing herself. So much for Hunk’s alarm. “I can explain.”

 “No need.” In the middle of the room stood a strange man, dressed entirely in form-fitting black. There were small pouches on his pants, daggers nestled in them, and the only thing visible was his face. His really pretty face. The moonlight shone down on him through the hole in the ceiling, revealing his mop of black hair, annoyed expression, and dark eyes. As she gawked, he crouched and grabbed the stone. “I can guess what happened but I don’t really care.”

 Well, that didn’t sound like any of the guards she knew. Not that he looked like one of them either. There wasn’t a patch to indicate his position in the academy either. Besides, she would remember a face like that. “You’re not a guard.”

 The stranger snorted, sending her an “obviously” response. Opening a black pouch, he slipped the stone inside and Pidge realized two things at one: 1) he was the reason for the alarms and 2) he was stealing the stone.

 The stone that she’d worked very hard to steal. The stone, which when gone, would definitely guarantee her and Hunk’s expulsion. As he turned away, she ran across the room and pounced, trying to rip the bag out of his hand. He smoothly stepped to the side, avoiding her, and she crashed to the floor. “Hey!” she growled. “Give that back!”

 “Why should I?” he retorted childishly.

 “Why?” she snarled, holding out a hand. Pidge had never really been one for rash decisions but this was a desperate time and desperate times called for desperate measures. Magic pulsated out of her as she shouted, “Recipero!”

 The stone ripped out of the bag and hurtled to her waiting hand. As it came closer and closer, Pidge realized with horror, the stone wasn’t slowing down. She tensed, trying to move out of the way, but her body was frozen.

 The stone hit her hand and she blacked out.

 -x-

 Keith gingerly kicked the unconscious woman at his feet. Maybe he should have expected the spells—the castle did have a famous magic school attached to it. There were bound to be at least some skilled mages here. “Hey,” he called out, but the girl didn’t so much as stir. He wasn’t too surprised; the stone hit her hand pretty hard. She must have passed out from all the pain.

 Quickly, he crouched next to her and grabbed her hand. Her fingers were loosely wrapped around the stone, as though to protect it from him, and he had to admire that tenacity. Gently, he pried open her fingers, revealing the sparkling comet shard beneath.

 A comet shard that didn’t look so much on her skin as embedded. He grabbed it, trying to pull it free, but the rock refused to budge. What the hell kind of spell did she do? Whatever admiration he had was instantly replaced with irritation; it wasn’t like his plans today had enough issues as it was, without dealing with this. Maybe he could pry it free with his knife—no, it could kill her and while he was a thief, Keith wasn’t a murderer. At least, not for unsuspecting students who did not sign up for guard duty.

 “Pidge! They’re coming!” a man shouted in the hallway.

 Alert, Keith picked up the sound of dozens of boots stomping up the stairs. The guards must have caught onto him. Or maybe onto her—that explosion was pretty big. Either way, he didn’t have time to figure this out. One last futile tug on the rock and Keith sighed heavily. The hard way it was, then.

 Without hesitation, he slung the woman over his shoulders like a potato sack. He’d have to figure out what to do with her after he’d escaped.

 -x-

 “Huhhh?” Pidge blinked as she stared at a black fabric, her face pressed against it and some hard substance behind it. She was moving somewhere, she could feel it with every bump. Where? Why? She was in her room, last she remembered. Experimenting with the shard—

 Pidge gasped, remembering what had happened. Turning her head, she realized she was outdoors, it was midday, and that black fabric was the back of someone’s shirt. The thief’s shirt, she was certain. “You’re a kidnapper too?” she shouted, struggling to get off him. She tried to kick her feet but his grip was too strong. Resorting to her fists, she hit his back as hard as she could. “Let me go!”

 “Hey! Cut it out!” The thief grunted when she got a particularly hard jab in and dropped her to the ground.

 Pidge groaned as she rolled on the gravel pathway. She should have thought that out more. Rolling onto her back, she rubbed her head. Something hard pressed against her skin and she raised her hand to look at it. The comet shard stared back. “Wait, what?” She had to be seeing things, right? Why did she still have it and why did her hand hurt so much?

 “Hey? You okay?” The thief crouched next to her, worriedly examining her head, and damn, now that he was close, he looked even prettier.

 Prettier but evil, definitely evil, she thought, and she swatted his hand away. “I’m fine.” She pulled herself up to a sitting position slowly. Her hand hurt a lot and she looked at it once more. “Is it just me or is there a rock in my skin?”

 “Yeah…” The thief stared at her. “What did you do?”

 “I…” Pidge furrowed her brows, remembering the last spell she’d called. Recipero. A simple spell, really, except she’d accidentally mispronounced it in the heat of the moment. It was more of a Ree-see-prohh instead of Ree-sip-roh. And sounds could change entire spells into something different. “I think I miscast a spell.”

 “Great.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Can you undo it?”

 “…uh…I’m not sure.” Pidge winced. She should never have stolen the stupid rock in the first place.

 “Even better.” The thief bit his cheek, looking back in the direction they’d come from. Following his gaze, Pidge realized she didn’t even recognize the part of the path they were on. Just how far had he managed to travel?

 “Uh, where are we?” she asked, studying the trees around her. They weren’t native to the castle grounds.

 “Near Galra,” the thief answered absentmindedly, still pondering his next move.

 Galra. As in Altea’s enemy and neighbouring country. As in a place she definitely could get killed because they were hostile to outsiders. Pidge’s legs felt wobbly.

 Standing up, the thief said, “Okay, I know someone who might be able to help.”

 “Right. Help.” Pidge was the top of her class, great with theory, getting better with practical applications. She was many things, but this was not a situation she was equipped for.

 “Here.” The thief held out a hand. “You can walk, right?”

 She stared at his hand blankly for a moment before grabbing it. “Yeah.”

 “Great. We have a long walk ahead of us.” He pulled her to her feet. “Don’t make me tie you up.”

 Well, even if she could run (she had terrible stamina), there was nowhere to go. Yet. But wherever they were going potentially had cities along the way and near Galra wasn’t in Galra. Not yet. Pidge could escape, if she bided her time.

 She smiled nervously. “Gotcha.”

 All she had to do was be patient.

[subarubi]

The List

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Everyone’s got a submission to his list. Watch this. Read that. Go there. But you’ve never given him anything. Not a single idea of what it is you like, what makes you feel at home in this world. Never made an effort to bridge the gap between the 40s and now, and yourself and him. And it oddly bothers him.

Word Count: 3.6 k

A/N: this is my very first reader insert i’ve written and am posting, so i’m excited :) appreciate anyone who takes the time to read!

Everyone’s got a submission to his list. 

Watch this. Read that. Eat here. Go there. I Love Lucy. Moon Landing. Berlin Wall. Steve Jobs. Disco. Thai food. Star Wars. Nirvana. Rocky. Troubleman Soundtrack. Things he absolutely must do if he wants to call himself a modern man. Which, he does. But kind of doesn’t? Doesn’t even matter much now anyway.

You don’t.

Have a submission to his list, that is.

You’ve never been talkative anyway, he reasons. You’re quiet, reserved, and a bit of an outsider in this haphazardly thrown together group of extraordinary people. 

Not that you’re ordinary, not in the slightest. You’re a comet. Your power, palpable. A volatile missile, ice and dust carving a hole through space. Nucleus, hard body amalgamation of granite muscle and tungsten bones. Tail, a whipping flurry of wild hair, muted decimation in its wake. No, you are far from ordinary.

You just... stick to the walls.

With arms-- arms he’s seen bring men to their knees-- crossed over your chest, face set in marble. Not unfriendly. You’ll talk nice when prompted, smile when appropriate, but you never initiate. 

You seem to prefer a distance, a line between work life and personal life. A line that just doesn’t exist with the Avengers. Somehow, though, you manage to maintain the separation. Natasha’s prying questions, Stark’s intentional invasions of your personal space, Sam’s harmless but persistent flirting. 

It’s all so easily deflected. 

Made even easier now that the family you’d always resisted has been fractured. 

You don’t care to foster intimate relationships with any of these people. And you definitely don’t care to put in a submission to Captain America’s To-Do List. 

Everyone, everyone has something to add to his list. Even Bucky, Bucky, who has spent the better part of 70 years in and out of cryo, brain pulled apart and replaced with a new, foreign synapse each time, said something about a movie he’d seen somewhere. 

It bothers him. It shouldn’t, but it does. 

Steve can physically feel it--  that’s how much it bothers him. A now permanent path of his eyes to your form in a room. An itch in his fingers for a pen and paper anytime you say anything. A burn on the tops of his ears, hot and red, if you smile softly at some reference he doesn’t understand. Is that a signal? Would that be a suggestion if you actually talked to him?

Regardless, he trusts you. A boundless amount. Unexplainable given just how little the two of you have actually spoken.

You don’t make suggestions for the list, and it only really bothers him because he does trust you. He wants to know what you have to say, what you think is important for him to experience. What you like. If, perhaps, what makes you feel at home in this world could help him too. 

It’s a Thursday and he’s thumbing the pages of his notebook when Natasha gets the idea. 

The quinjet cabin is filled with a heavy, pregnant silence that no one can bear to cut through. Full-term. Unbearable pressure on the sciatic nerve-type silence. 9 months discomfort and anxiety, stifling their words. 

A mission gone right, but leaving a bad taste in their mouths. 

Bucky sits near the front, aimlessly bouncing a tennis ball against the starboard wall. Sam is in the co-pilot seat, trying to read a book with a red cover and yellow spine. Nat’s knuckles turn white on the yoke, keeping the quinjet on track even though it could pretty much fly on its own. 

You like music, Steve thinks. You there now in the back corner-- fingers drumming to the private beat on your thigh, eyes closed and head tipped back, white of earbuds in stark contrast with your dark combat suit-- is a frequent sight. He imagines your recommendation might be an album for him to listen to. 

Steve’s fingers ghost over the familiar scrawl of his list; some crossed out, some recently added. 

He decides it could use more music. 

You should just ask her, Natasha smirks, jutting her chin your direction. When she moved to sit next to him, Steve didn’t know. But, she is, after all, the spy. He’d been otherwise occupied anyway. He lifts his bowed head up to fix her with a puzzled look. Nat gives him that smirk and Steve has to fight back a groan. Knocking her knee against his, she teases,  you know, she can probably feel you staring.

His eyes shoot over in your direction, sighing a little in relief when you seem to still be lost in the music pumping in your ears. Steve realizes Natasha isn’t talking about the list. Years now, and she still hasn’t given up on playing his personal matchmaker. It’s slowed, surely, due to circumstance, but she’s never satisfied. A date. He should ask you on a date, is what she means. He’s suddenly as red in the face as the tips of his ears and Natasha’s hair. 

Steve’s not blind. 

You’re attractive. 

Soft and hard in so many ways. Lips, pink and pillowy and parted ever so slightly. Sharp line of your jaw clenched, brows furrowed. The gentle curve of your neck, warm skin disappearing beneath a dirt stained, hole ridden suit that hasn’t seen mending hands in months. Not since you followed him in his free fall from grace. 

You’d followed. Wordlessly. Burned out, abandoned by coworkers and the public, you resigned yourself to this life of Motel hopping and operating outside of the realm of what’s legal. Though not outside of what’s right.

Pondering what any of that could mean feels forbidden to Steve.

The hard shell of a man, not any less great, but perhaps less sure.

He looks back at Natasha with a low shake of his head, abruptly shutting his notebook. She sighs, but takes the hint. Enough. Not now. 

Almost a year later, he does ‘just ask’. 

It’s kind of like a date, in barely-there ways. You’re left alone, facing each other in a booth, knees brushing. You go to the bathroom, Steve orders for the both of you. Kind of like a date. 

Stuffed in the sticky booth of some diner in Middle America, alone together. Natasha gone off on her own again. Bucky recovering in Wakanda. Sam out like a light on a creaking Motel 6 mattress-- hard, just like he likes it. Your muscles like jelly, stomachs rumbling with the dull ache of hunger, soaked head to toe from the torrential downpour outside. No idle chit chat for you two. Steve stares out the window, impossible blue eyes following the path of a raindrop. You ring the bottom of your shirt out onto the small bit of floor between two pairs of feet. It splatters on the ground loudly. 

Not a date. 

You risk a glance at him over the piping hot brim of your coffee mug. Silently marvel at just how much he’s changed through thin white wisps of steam. More than longer hair, more than a handsome and disguising beard, more than the ripped out star of his suit sitting in a heap on the motel room floor. You can’t say how, it’s more a feeling. 

He’s a lot quieter now. Like you. 

Steve’s always been stoic. Passionate when needs be, but not exactly loose with his emotions; never as restrained now. His voice was always strong and sure, but never quite so gruff from frequent disuse as in this past year. You suppose it’s partially your fault. With Natasha gone much more now and Sam talking enough to carry a conversation himself, you’re not exactly great company. You might be one of the reasons he speaks less and less. 

A pretty waitress is smiling wide at him, a signal that she knows. A beard and hat pulled down as far as possible would never be enough to hide those golden boy blue eyes. 

Those eyes millions of women would gladly melt into a puddle of rainwater on the dirty floor of some diner in Midwest America for. You’d have to ask for a mop later to clean up the mess. Yours and the one spilling from ‘Molly’s lips. 

I heard you have a list, she smiles coy. You tuck in to the plate of chocolate chip pancakes doused in maple syrup as she bats her eyelashes down at him. 

Steve shifts, glancing over at you seemingly uninterested in the conversation. He’d given up on you having anything to do with the list weeks ago. He may be a fugitive-- may no longer be an Avenger, Captain America-- but he’s still a nice guy.  

Yes, he laughs kindly, hands clasped together on the table top.

You sniff and his eyes snap to yours again, tense. You’ll have to leave soon. Now that ‘Molly’ from the midnight shift at Red’s diner has seen Steve Rogers and his pretty blue eyes, you’ll have to wake Sam from his long overdue sleep and be gone before dawn. You wish he could’ve been left longer. It’s just how things work these days. A long shot from living plush, courtesy of Tony Stark. But you can wait long enough to finish coffee and breakfast.

Can I make a suggestion? she leans down and speaks in soft tones, a wicked grin hidden beneath those sweet, innocent looking red lips. 

You raise a brow when Steve politely nods, pulling out his trusty notebook from his back pocket. Steve asks to borrow a pen which she hastily holds out to him, purposely having their fingers brush in the exchange. Surely he knows she’s flirting, he’s not that naive. There’s no way. He’s a nice guy, maybe too nice.

She’s young. You imagine she has spent more than a few nights looking up at a poster of his face, clean shaven and perfect, playing this exact conversation in her head. That she has carefully thought over what her input would be. 

You should definitely watch ‘Friends’ when you have the time. 

You snort. Loudly. 

Molly instantly shrinks in on herself, deflated. Steve gives you an odd look, which you brush off and promptly resume shoveling the sweet breakfast food into your mouth. 

He’s so kind, it’s downright disgusting. 

Steve makes a point of writing it down underneath ‘Stevie Wonder’, smiling, Thank you. And for good measure, when he returns the pen, Captain America runs his ring finger across her knuckle. Oh, he knew. So considerate, you almost want to smirk when you catch it.

She’s gone now to wait on the other late night stragglers, blushing and gently ghosting her fingers over the spot he’d touched. Your hurtful mocking isn’t enough to dampen the feel of being caught in Steve Rogers’ warm glow. 

His knee presses along the inside of yours again when he shifts to shove the small book back into his pants. You take a measured sip of coffee. 

Steve raises a brow in your direction, Did you have a better suggestion?

There. He’s asked. 

Maybe he could finally breathe in your presence now. 

No luck considering you simply shrug and break from his gaze. So unreadable. It’s frustrating. He has half a mind to write ‘shrug’ underneath ‘Friends’. Are you? Friends, he means. You’ve known each other what feels like a lifetime now. At whatever this is for a year and a half. He can count on one hand the amount of conversations not involving a mission you’ve shared. 

He trusts you with his life, which, after everything that’s happened, is a rare commodity. He’s sure you feel the same. 

You’d say that no, you’re not friends. You probably wouldn’t deny the unfathomable trust in each other, though. That’s comforting at least. You sleep a bed away every night after all. 

Steve doesn’t really sleep. 

He doesn’t know you know that; you don’t sleep either. 

He’s staring, maybe he doesn’t realize it. 

You’ve abandoned your fork, suddenly feeling sick with it. That fucking blue. It split you like butter and might’ve knocked you over had you not been tightly gripping your knee under the table. 

So handsome it hurts. 

How could anyone be that pretty? Heartbreaking. Even before the serum-- you’ve seen the pictures. Breathtaking. The beard. The beard is really something. So so pretty. Adonis and Aphrodite. Michelangelo’s David. Torturous. 

It’s been almost a full minute now. Of him, just staring. 

You clear your throat in hopes it might pull him out of whatever it is that has claimed him. It doesn’t work. You talk just to end it. You know for certain that will surprise him. 

Why do you even keep up with it? The list. That stupid goddamned list.

You can see the flush on Steve’s neck when he does realize that he’d stared at you, through you, in you, for the longest two minutes in history. He coughs into his fist. 

What do you mean? his brow furrows, and you almost want to touch the crease between them to make it go away. It’s a ridiculous thought. One you shake away with another measured sip of coffee. 

Doesn’t it seem... you shrug, and there’s an urge in him to grab you by the shoulders and beg you to stop fucking shrugging so goddamned much. Steve thinks he might go insane if he sees those shoulders twitch up again. I dunno, kind of pointless now?

In a way, yes, it is. 

Steve can’t exactly pop in a film or binge watch a tv show like this. And sitting down to listen to read a book doesn’t really seem right.

He doesn’t answer. You watch him finally pick up his own fork, cutting into an omelette more cheese and meat than egg. 

It still rains down hard. 

Steve pays the bill, smiling tightly at Molly when she lays her hand on his bicep. He tips her well, she was sweet and young and still half terrified from just you snorting. 

You follow a few paces behind him out of the diner, mindful of maintaining that distance. 

Neither of you bother to fight against getting soaked. 

You’re both immediately set on edge when three cars pull into the parking lot, tightly together. It’s the kind of thing you’d been trained to be suspicious of. The kind of thing that never means anything good when around people like you. It means they have come for you both. It means you'll probably have to fight. 

He pauses underneath the buzzing neon sign. His back is to you, the tense expanse of muscles outlined by the wet shirt clinging to his skin. A breath. Another. 

Giggling.

You hear giggling of all things, bubbling through the parking lot. Girls, a whole crowd of them, spilling out of the cars, hushing each other. His name is on their cherry chapstick lips. Not his name, his title: Captain America. Molly had texted them, that’s clear now. 

It’s better, at least, than your previous estimation. But it’s trouble nevertheless. 

Steve turns to face you and somehow, the soft glow of red on his face only makes his eyes bluer. He takes a step forward. You understand. You always understand in the absence of words. There’s a link between the two of you when you’re in that working mode. That trust, tangible in how you too, step forward. 

It’s procedural. You fall into it so easily.

His head ducks, yours raises. Eyes locked in one another, but ears elsewhere, listening. Not touching, but near to it. A breath away. Swaying in the rain. You feel it sizzle on your skin, see it coming off him in steam. 

No one bothers the two lovers, obviously too occupied with each other to be superheroes. Natasha had taught you both that. 

It pours harder yet. 

The giggles fade into nothing, drowned in the monsoon-- no space between the fat drops pelting the earth. They couldn’t see the two of you now even if they tried. 

Why did you come? You never really said, he has to shout, the rain is so loud. 

You’ve left a lot unsaid. Some things are better that way. 

Steve’s hands, large and powerful, stop your shoulders mid shrug. Don’t, he squeezes his eyes shut, drops of rain trickling down the slopes of his nose, For the love of God, don’t fucking shrug.

Everything is heavy: your drenched clothes, his hands still gripping your shoulders, the crushing weight in your chest-- the rock lodged in your throat with all the things you’ve never said for the sake of some stupid credo about not letting things get personal. You’ve let the words die on your lips and for what? 

It did nothing. The lines blurred anyway, out of your control. 

The truth: there hasn’t been a distance greater than the width of his notebook between the two of you for a long time now. 

You pretend. 

You both pretend that absence of any extended conversation means you haven’t already learned everything about each other just by watching. Stealing glances when the other is turned away. 

Steve pretends that the reason your input in the list matters so much to him is because he wants to know the people he’s trusting with his life. 

He already knows you. Not your favorite color or band, but you. Your outline in the darkness of a thousand motels. The smell of you under layers of grime and sweat and blood-- you’re scrubbed clean with the same soap he uses. Your breathing patterns: one when you’re resting with your earbuds in, head bopping to songs he’s not been privy to; another when you’re side by side in combat, moving together like one; the most prominent, when you’re both laying in bed staring at the ceiling, too lost in thought to even care about sleep. 

You know him too.

His question. How do you answer? You followed. Wasn’t that answer enough?

Where’s your notebook? You ask instead, though it’s more of a call in this downpour. 

Steve’s brow furrows again, left hand flying back to pat the small book in his pocket. This time, you do reach out, though you don’t have to go very far. His breath quickens when the pad of your thumb brushes against the wet crease of skin pulled together in uncertainty. He swallows hard, rifling through the pages a little messy because he can’t stop looking at you. Your hand stays there until the pressure releases. For a good second after, too.     

When he finally opens it up to the two pages worth of ‘to-do’, the ink is running. Black to blue. A melted mess of jumbled letters on delicate paper one wrong twitch away from ripping. 

You take it from his hands, gentle, because you’re pretty sure this notebook has been a lifeline for him. Grounding. There’s sketches in there that you’ve only caught glimpses of. 

You lament now that it has been ruined by the rain. 

I don’t have a pen, he says softly. Softly, because he’s closer now than you’ve ever been. You’ve never heard him so soft. So cautious that his voice might scare you away. 

You spare a languid glance up to see just how close he is. It must be only inches because you can hear him through the rain. You tilt your chin to the sky, heavy lids widening slightly. 

He’s closer than even that. Not inches, centimeters. If you hadn’t been swaying in synchronization and instead leaned forward at the same time...

You don’t even know what you’re doing. For the first time in a while, you’re scared. 

The book is closed between your palms, the list shut. You’ll deal with it another day. You’ll help him remember everything that was on there so he can rewrite it. 

Steve leans in more. Not enough. 

I’ll just tell you then, you nod. Steve’s chest brushes against yours as you both suck in heavy breaths. You press the notebook there, against the hard swells of his front, closer to his heart. 

Which question are you answering? Why did you come? Or did you have a better suggestion?

Bob Dylan.

What?

Bob Dylan. Bringing It All Back Home. 1965.

Oh.

The stupid list. For years now, that’s all he’s wanted to hear. But there, under the neon sign, in the parking lot of Red’s diner, drenched in the deluge of rain, it’s not enough. 

We’ll listen to it together, you smile and he’s never seen it quite so big or bright.

Together. It is enough. 

Your lips taste of rain and maple syrup. He’ll remember it for a while. Forever, maybe. And him, you don’t recall something ever being so rich in your life. Steve’s mouth, so decadent you could die with a sated smile still. It’s all the sweeter, the press of your lips together; in it all those words left unsaid. You breathe them into his mouth, warm and red and waiting, and he sears them back into yours with the delicate slide of his tongue. Mouths together form lost sentences and sing. A crescendoing flurry of soundless vowels and consonants that only the two of you will ever hear. 

Steve faintly hears the notebook fall in a splash at your feet and you can feel the grin in his lips by the scratch of his beard against your chin. You’ll feel guilty for dropping it later, but your hand had been hellbent on curling itself under his arms and around his shoulder. His own hands cradle your neck and face, slipping across the rain wet planes of your face. And those forearms, like hams, rest heavily on your shoulders-- so that you can never shrug again. If you can’t find the words, Steve’s content to have you speak them on his lips. 

Everyone’s got a submission to his list. 

But yours come with a kiss. 

Yours is the only one that he’s ever really cared about.  

Sam complains weeks later that he’s sick of hearing Bob Dylan.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

From Chin To Yon Rah (Part 20)

She has left Chin. That was her only intent. But she knows that, that isn’t good enough. Not when her WuJing is within walking distance.

It’s desecrated, skeletal shadow haunts her. She knows that she needs to get out from under its shade. There is nothing in the Earth Kingdom for her anymore anyhow and somehow it has managed to instill more hurt and trauma than the Fire Nation had. It is time to go home.

She isn’t sure what she will do when she gets there, she is certain that they won’t even take her back. Or that they will but they will transfer her right back into an institution where she belongs. But she is going to do it. She is going home.

.oOo.

The grasslands are so empty and so vast. And this time she only has her own mind for company. She hasn’t even a mongoose-lizard nor an ostrich horse. And by Agni, her mind isn’t good company.

It yells at her. Chastises her. Mocks her for being too weak to protect herself and her family. Mocks her doubly for letting herself sink so far under. She thinks that she has managed to put herself in a worse state than the one she had been in on the day of Sozin’s Comet. At least she’d had some fight in her then. Some scrap of dignity to be retained. This Azula is simply pathetic. Pathetic and lonely and directionless. More so than before.

At one point, somewhere around a week and a half into the grassland she stops walking. Her feet are sore and her shoes are becoming worn. Her back aches and her belly pangs more often than not, she has nothing to fill it with. Having exhausted all other options, she resorts to eating grass. She finds out the hard way that this is a mistake.

That night was spent without any progress at all. That night was spent doubled over and queasy and heaving. By the end of it her sides ache and her stomach is somehow emptier and achier than before. She thinks that she may be seeing her loved ones sooner than she had imagined.

She is in a much worse state than before she’d consumed the grass. Her throat is dry and her body shakes. She quite literally drags herself for several excruciating miles. Only when she hears the sound of a stream does she will herself to her feet.

And only when she actually sees the stream does she hasten her pace. She is desperate with thirst and near ferally ravenous. She cups her hands and takes mouthfuls of water, lapping at it as though it will disappear if she doesn’t consume it fast enough.

She has the sense to stop for a moment and refill her waterskins.  She is thankful that she had found the courage and willpower to enter Wujing one last time to gather some supplies for her journey.

Hunger makes fishing difficult, but desperation makes it doable. She cooks her first fish while she catches her next few. Her next dozen. She isn’t sure when she will come by her next meal so she eats until she is nearly sick.  

Until she feels sluggish as she forces herself onwards. She thinks that she is only delaying the inevitable. The grasslands had been nearly uncrossable with a mount, to take them on foot, she realizes, had been an extended invitation to death.

Occasionally her mind wanders to a more pleasant place. Occasionally the field resembles a hill on the southern outskirts of Wujing.

This hill had been the perfect place for a picnic. The day before, they had made kites. She had made herself a blue dragon, Hajime had made himself a plain diamond with bright and intricate drawings, and Atsu tried his very hardest to make a badgermole.

Food was anything but scarce on this grassy hill. Ojihara’s family had come to join them and with baskets of fresh fruits and vegetables. And by late afternoon, it was a town event.

But to Azula it will always be a family memory. She was only two or three months pregnant then, but Hajime still pampered her as though she were at least six months along. She held her kite out and watched Atsu and Caihong race with theirs down the hillside. She wasn’t sure who the third child was but she tripped and Atsu helped her up. She remembers the feeling of Hajime’s arms wrapping around her middle. The feeling of his lips against the nape of her neck. She remembers the gentle caress of his hand over her bump and the breeze that tugged at her hair. She remembers having cupped her hand over his.

She remembers the moment being ruined by the breeze picking up their picnic blanket and slamming into the both of them. Their kites had knotted around one another. She remembers that she wasn’t angry or vexed. In fact she vividly recalls Hajime practically falling over with laughter as she tried to untangle the both of them from the blanket. If only the kites hadn’t tangled them up as well. Ultimately Seukhyun was the one to free them.

She remembers declaring that she was going to go back to eating strawberries and letting the children play with kites. She remembers Hajime laying down next to her and feeding her the strawberries.

She misses being spoiled like that. She misses hearing his laugh. Hearing Atsu’s laugh. Misses laughter in general.

That day she learns not to take things for granted.

.oOo.

She draws back and Sokka says nothing for a very long time. Agonizingly long. She should have just stumbled her way through an awkward declaration of love.  That probably would have been far less awkward. Perhaps she had gauged their interactions the wrong way. Her face is flushed quite vividly.

Sokka still doesn’t say a thing. He isn’t Hajime and she shouldn’t have made a move so abruptly. She would rise up and make a hasty retreat for her room, but they are still sitting upon her bed. Of course she could retreat to any of the guest rooms or the training room or perhaps  to take another bath just to have a bath…

She hasn’t quite stood fully when she feels a hand come around her wrist. Sokka gently pulls her back to the mattress, still silent. She thinks that he might be looking for something to say. And she supposes that it would have been rude to have kissed and fled.

“Sorry.” She grumbles at last.

“For what?” He asks.

She touches her fingers to his lips. “I thought that you…” he gives her fingers a small kiss before taking her hand and giving the back of it another small kiss.

“I don’t want you to apologize.” He rubs the back of his head. “I was actually kind of waiting for you to do that.”

“You were?”

“Sure.” He replies. “Though I kind of thought that you were going to kiss me while we were gardening.”

Apparently, even when she has the right emotion, she still has the wrong timing. It had been Hajime who had done much of the work. Hajime who had guided her in the right direction. There had been so many little signs and hints along the way. And then he’d ultimately given her their first real kiss. It had felt right. Natural.

This feels different. It feels jarring and frightening somehow. And maybe it is because she is still apprehensive about finding love at all. With anyone who isn’t Hajime. She isn’t sure that it would be fair to begin a relationship when her last one is still so heavily there. She knows what she will do if she should choose to pursue. She knows that she will compare every little aspect of Sokka--every little thing that he does--to Hajime. And how can she do that to him? How can she put him in a position where he’d be second choice to a dead man.  

She doesn’t think that she can do this. It had been an impulse decision. A spur of the moment action. She doesn’t even know if she loves him; isn’t love supposed to take time? It had taken her a year to decide to marry Hajime, and months before she even kissed him. It had taken time and she has only been around Sokka for a short while. And yet it feels the same as it felt with Hajime. Sokka is fun. He is patient. He is easy to be around.

She is hard to be around. Hard and awkward and confused.

She stiffly apologizes again, gets to her feet, and in one fluid motion, pulls herself from his grasp and out into the hallway.

Somehow this feels just as wrong as kissing him. She doesn’t want to make a rebound of him, neither does she want to write him off.

Azula steals away into the palace hot springs. She casts her robes aside and submerges herself as though her conflict and distress can roll off of her body with the steam. As though she can scrub her troubles away with a bar of soap and a handful of shampoo. She stays in the water until her skin goes wrinkly. And then a little longer after that.

She hadn’t the foresight to grab her pajamas so she changes back into her day clothes.

Somewhere deep within, she hopes that Sokka will be sitting on her bed when she gets back.

He isn’t.

She thinks that she must love him if it hurts this bad to see that he wouldn’t be waiting on her to get it together. She is a fool and she doesn’t know what she is doing. He doesn’t have time to wait for her to figure it out. Likely, he thinks that she has been playing some cruel game with him, just for the sake of making him upset. It is what she would have done some years earlier.

At least she won’t have to worry about tragically losing another lover. She had a second chance and she has already let it go. And for what?

Yes, she definitely loves him. She would be able to sleep if she didn’t.

[theimaginesgalore]

Cigarette Daydreams - Prologue Rafe Cameron x OFC JJ Maybank x OFC Kooks x OFC Pouges x OFC

WARNINGS: This has some HEAVY smut. Exhibitionisms, dirty talk, daddy kink, slight reluctance. THIS SERIES IS NOT SOLELY PORN, BUT THIS PART IS A PRETTY MUCH PORN WITH VERY LITTLE PLOT.

Layne Reid was something else. At least that’s what JJ Maybank decided after he had started working for her father, Thomas, at the beginning of his sophomore year. He had been hired to do yard work, any sort of handy work needed done, and up keep the pool, boats, and vehicles. Thomas Reid was an extremely wealthy and busy business man so he hired JJ to do whatever he couldn’t do at his home, and he paid him well to do so. Layne was nearly a year older than him and she was a lot of things, and a horrible driver was one of them.

           If JJ had kept a tally of how many times he had fixed just one of Layne’s vehicles (which he did) in just the eight months he worked for the Reid’s, it would be in the dozens. Layne had two cars, yes two. One was a 2019 Audi A7 and there was never a problem with that thing, JJ felt like she just had that car just to show how fucking spoiled she was, which maybe she did honestly. Her second car was a vehicle she had begged and begged for, it was a 1968 Mercury Comet, Convertible of course. That car had costed Thomas a pretty penny, and continued to cost him more and more money. It was a perfect car, and JJ was incredibly jealous of the girl for having such a beautiful car, Layne was just a bad driver and hardly ever kept up with the maintenance of it. If there was one moment JJ could pinpoint that he actually fell for her though, it would be because of that damn car. 

           The only problem in this love story, aside from her being a Kook and him being a Pouge, you ask? Rafe Cameron. Rafe had been Layne’s boyfriend for nearly two years, and she was crazy about him. JJ never was able to understand, the two were just such opposites. Layne was soft, kind, intelligent. Rafe was hard, mean, and cruel.

           Rafe had a girl that everyone wanted, literally everyone, and he loved it. He loved knowing all his friends wanted her, all the filthy Pouges wanted her, fuck even his own sister, who was Layne’s best friend and had a boyfriend, wanted her. But that wasn’t all that Rafe loved. He genuinely loved Layne, she had been with him for everything the past two years, he just had bad qualities that got the best of him sometimes.

           He knew that fucking Pouge was there, doing whatever it was that Layne’s dad needed done that day. Rafe hated that Thomas had invited him so trustingly into his girlfriends home, and that he was allowed alone in there with Layne while he was wherever he was doing business and her mother, Claire, just left to go spend money and plan events with Rafe’s own stepmother, Rose. So, in Rafe decided to spend the afternoon with his girlfriend, but knowing the Pouge was there only fueled him to stick his hand in her panties, while sitting in the middle of her living room. You could say he was a slight exhibitionist. In all honesty, he loved fucking Layne, but knowing people who liked Layne are around?

           “R-Rafe, JJ is here some-somewhere. Ah-“ A moan caught in her throat when he bit down on her neck and plunged two fingers inside her soft cunt at the same time. She was straddling him, blonde and pink hair a mess, tank top pulled down under her breasts, and panties and shorts damp with her arousal as her boyfriend roughly assaulted her body.

Rafe growled and grabbed her hair yanking her head back, shoving his fingers even deeper inside her. “God you are such a fucking slut, saying his name while I’ve got you like this.” He cut himself off and started rubbing his thumb against her clit while he continued to roughly finger her, he thought maybe he should lay off a little, he knew he was hurting her, but hearing her same his name in the breathy and horny way she did had him pissed. He roughly kissed her breast before biting her nipples harshly.

Layne let out a high pitched moan, followed by a gasp in slight pain. She cursed herself for being loud. JJ was at her house working today, she wasn’t sure what her dad had him doing either, he could be anywhere. “C’mon slut, talk to daddy.” That statement alone almost brought her to orgasm, well that, his fingers working themselves in and out of her at the brutal pace they were going, and his thumb not easing up on her clit.

“Rafe-“ He roughly yanked her hair again, feeling her clench around his fingers. “What’s my name, whore?” She gulped. “D-daddy, he could come in at any second.” Rafe had gotten even harder and the thought of JJ Maybank walking in on him fucking his girl. He roughly pulled his fingers out of her and shoved her off of the couch and onto her knees.

Layne winced slightly at his roughness, lately he had been even roughed than she was used too. She watched as he pulled his shorts and underwear off, and he quickly grabbed her face before pulling her into a searing kiss. The kiss was short lived, and before she could even catch her breath Rafe had her mouth on his cock and began pushing her head down as far as he knew should go.

JJ had heard Layne moaning, and he had gotten turned on slightly, but he knew he should’ve left. But how could he leave when her dad had left him such a long list of things to get done before he got back Monday, and it was Saturday.

He knew what Rafe was doing. Rafe wanted to make him jealous and this wasn’t the first time, but this was the first time he was doing it so openly where JJ could have to see. Finally JJ decided that he was just going to leave and work extra tomorrow to get everything done for Thomas. He had quickly put everything back in its place before going to leave quietly, but he immediately caught eyes with the groaning mess of Rafe Cameron with his hands roughly on head of the pretty girl crouched between his legs.

Rafe smirked wickedly at JJ. He knew the Pouge would keep watching, so he only got rougher and dirtier with Layne. He tightened his grip on her hair and started roughly fucking her face while keeping his stare on JJ for a moment.

“You like that don’t you, you pretty slut. You like daddy fucking your face right here in the living room knowing that dirty Pouge could walk in at any second.” He looked away from JJ and pulled Layne’s mouth off of him, quickly pulling her back on top of him and roughly sliding into her.

Layne groaned at the rough feeling. Her pussy was sensitive and immediately clenched around him as he fucked himself into him, feeling her high start to build back up.

JJ couldn’t breathe, he imagined Rafe just got ridiculously great head and his own cock was so hard it hurt. He watched Layne’s ass bounced against Rafe’s thighs, and felt his eyes glued to the spot where Layne and Rafe were linked, watching as her went pussy took him in over and over again. He wondered if he looked close enough if he could see the girl clench around him.

Rafe didn’t let up, he fucked her and he fucked her good and rough and at a brutal pace. He felt her begin to clench around him and stifled a groan, feeling his balls tighten up and he knew he was going to come cum quickly.

“You want daddy’s cum you whore? Huh you want to take daddy’s cum like a good whore who knows her place? My pretty cum slut.” Layne gasped at his vulgar words and closed her eyes as he hit her spot over and over again roughly, clenching around him she finally came.

Rafe’s eyes rolled feeling her clench around him, but he wasn’t done yet. Quickly pulling her off of him, shoving her to where she was clinging to the back of the couch and he smirked at JJ before shoving himself back into Layne and wrapping his arm around her to rub her clit while fucking her. “No-no I can’t” and Rafe quickly pinched her clit “Yes you can slut, you want him to hear you, I know you do.”

Layne felt her eyes roll back, it was too much, the sensitivity from her orgasm, the feeling of him filling her at a new angle, the feeling of his fingers on her clit. She was gasping for air at this point, another orgasm quickly approaching.

Rafe smirked feeling her clench around him again and quickened his pace, “No no slut. You do NOT get to cum again.” and with that he stilled inside her, releasing his orgasm into her and holding her hips in place as he felt his body twitch and her pussy spasm around him.

He pulled out of her and turned his head to glare at JJ, but saw he was already gone. He smirked and thought “good” to himself before turning back to his mess of a girlfriend. He saw his orgasm already leaking out of her and quickly put two fingers back inside her, curling them before pulling them out. Using his other hand he quickly turned her around and shoved his fingers into her mouth, having her clean their releases off of them.

A/N: PLEASE give me some feedback! this is my first imagine/series! any and all feedback is accepted and appreciated!

I am open to requests!

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Dragon Dancer III: Godfall

Major Spoilers: Spoils Luminous and The Finale of Book 3 and current story line

Trigger Warnings: Cruel Imagery

His face was inches from mine. But it wasn’t in a mask. It was a face I knew. Tachibana’s face.

“H...how...?” I managed to grunt before he let me go.  I collapsed.

“Soul Skill: Doppleganger. It was far easier to get what I needed done if I could play both sides. Of course, in order for you to survive, I had to sacrifice the Tachibana identity... but at that point it had fulfilled its purpose.”

I looked to where the King’s body had been but there was nothing there. Frozen transfixed, I struggled to breathe, moaning with the effort.

“I’m afraid we’re out of time.” He retrieved the parasite's container. “The ritual begins now.”

He returned to me and grabbed me by my hair. I heard the box open. Something cold and wet touched my skin. I couldn’t even struggle as it crawled around my body. But then it stopped.

The King dropped me. Shattering pain exploded inside. I cried, helpless.

The King put the baby down just out of my reach. The parasite was attached to its temple. My eyes burned and tears fell when the corrosive spider silk began to grow from its little nose, tiny chin, round feet and fingertips and connected to the silks already covering the red well.

“No... No...” I tried to get up reaching out to him.

The King marched over and put his boot on the hilt of the blade in my back and pushed down hard. The tip pierced the ground, pinning me. “You’re not going anywhere, if you teleport you die quicker. The Sword of Damocles is for you.”

The silk formed something like a crochet blanket around the child. “You can’t save him now. His soul is already lost.”

The baby sat completely still among the silk. There was no light in his eyes any more.

Somewhere outside my vision, the King continued his lecture. “The White King never had any intention of helping humanity achieve eternal life. She only wanted to extend her own own existence by using humans as a host for her own rebirth. Behold your son, the Light King."

He was not my son. My son was dead. The cocoon had nearly enclosed him like a lacy casket.

"As a newly reborn dragon, the White King’s blood has the strongest effect and the weakest toxicity.”

His voice grew louder as he returned. “I was going to use you as a host and let the child grow up with me as a dragon... but... This is not a permanent setback.”

“I must say despite that you were very valuable to me. I couldn’t have fought Chisei on my own.” He gave me a mocking sneer with Tachibana's face, unwrapping a thick needle and medical tubing. “Thanks.”

My lungs spasmed painfully against the blade in my chest. I coughed a red mist to the ground.

“Herzog... I... hate you... I hate... you!”

He inserted the needle into the child’s neck, attached the tubing and inserted the other end into his wrist. Bright red blood flowed from the baby through the tubing into him. I struggled to break free of the sword. I looked to the unconscious Chisei. I filled my lungs with air, sobbing. "I'm going to kill you!"

Herzog’s eyes began to grow golden. His skin started to shed those white filaments until he was cocooned. His laughter could be heard within. Then moaning, choking, and a low guttural snarl.

I forced my elbows under me, but I was fastened to the ground and losing strength.

I could only watch as a claw tore open the silk. What emerged was no man, but something similar to a death Servitor, pure gleaming white. Two membrane wings split the cocoon down the middle.

It fell over, legless with wings and arms only, but it still had a human face. It was only a little longer than a man was tall but the size belied  power Herzog now had. It aimed its eyes to the sky and beat its pinions to soar up out of sight, out of reach.

I sank back to the ground, gazing at the pale, cold body of my son. I'd failed Chime and this little one. But I no longer had the strength to cry.

"Daddy... I tried."

"Carli!"

A familiar voice shouted my name, a pair of sneakers kicked up dust next to my face.

Mingfei yanked the sword out of me and tossed it aside. "Carli..."

I couldn't help but smile. This was so familiar, just like in the cave when he held me as I turned servitor. He was holding me now, crying, as I died again. I would have laughed but at this point, but each breath was a conscious choice.

Mingfei was screaming. "Save her! Save her, damn it! I don't care what you do! W...wait who ...who are you?"

As my vision dimmed, I thought I could see my father, prismatic scales sparkling in his own light. He was standing over me.

I blinked, remembered the dragon words he taught me. "Eternal... Cycle, Unity in All Things.... Self-suffi...."

The final gasp of adrenaline in my chest was fruitless. I went limp and it felt like falling into darkness.

I never would have stopped falling were it not for a sudden call. "Carli."

"Chisei?" He was in the darkness with me. He had golden eyes. I remembered Johann.

I couldn't leave someone.

But which someone? Johann? Or Mingfei? My mind was muddled and I couldn't decide, but I just didn't want to leave this dark place without Chisei.

I felt myself being drawn back up. Breathe. I needed to breathe! I grabbed Chisei's coat. "Come back with me!"

Those cold killer eyes regarded me briefly.

And he smiled.

I came back into my body, gasping for air, but something was different. I couldn't see anything but white. The world was strangely loud. I could see and sense the invisible forces that composed it. Fire, Earth... Wind... Water.

Spirit.

"Ouroboros!"

Mingfei's commanding call made me stretch the length of my body, my clawed hand of glassy scales reached in front of my eyes. 

"Ouroboros..."

Chisei! I gasped with joy. He came back with me! He'd turned away from death and knew my name! 

"....Meixiu..." 

"Johann! Johann!" My heart beat loud in my ears, eager to reunite with my loves.

I stretched my wings and they burst from my cocoon, tearing it completely apart. Bright white and gold feathers draped from my back like the train of a wedding dress, as crystalline as diamonds. Next to me, a dark-scaled person stood with black membrane wings and a human face. "Mingfei?"

An intimidating aura radiated from him. His reptilian eyes made me shudder.

He held out his clawed hand to me. "Can you fly?"

His wings stirred the air and he rose from the ground. I followed, shedding the last shreds of the cocoon. After two experimental beats I could let go of him. Together we tasted the freedom of dragon flight. The ground shrank away, the endless sky spread above.

Mingfei's smile made me blush. He seemed suddenly mature and mischievous.

Another form zoomed past me leaving us behind, silver-scaled, like a flying bullet. In one wing stroke I caught up to him. 

Chisei looked different. He was even more reptilian before, eyes covered with a faceted scale that made him look like he had insect eyes. He was larger, stronger, faster, but I had the feeling he was not nearly as strong as I was.

I felt that power surge through my muscles and beat my wings once again and accelerated past him. Mingfei matched my speed then surpassed it. I laughed.

I wasn’t angry or filled with hatred any more. I was enthralled with my own power. I spread my wings to stop myself. There was one I was missing. He was coming. Always so slow.

Turtle. I mocked him in my mind.

As I looked in the distance, I became aware of a roaring sound coming towards me. I blinked. They were like birds, but moved more like fish, fins stiff, stuck straight out their sides.

Fighter jets.

This was a human's world and I was a dragon. I was the enemy.

I forgot.

I called Mingfei and Chisei in my mind. We turned away from the aircraft and split up. I blinked into the darkness of the void  and returned behind the jets without bothering to visualize first. Slipping in and out of this reality was so much easier for me now.

I wouldn’t permit the other dragons to harm the humans inside. Just disable their aircraft. Mingfei attacked from below and ripped out their engines. Chisei severed the wings. They obeyed my orders immediately and without question.

The real target was up ahead.

Herzog was not difficult to find. He was recklessly toying with the Earth’s elements, aiming destructive tsunamis, typhoons and earthquakes at the helpless human population. He was like me. Control of these powerful forces was only a thought away. 

He was playing with the lives of humans just like a child who didn’t understand his actions, dancing and laughing in the sky, creating disaster as though jumping in puddles on a rainy day.

I screamed a command at him to stop. The command reverberated for miles around. Far below, every living thing trembled.

From within the clouds, I could feel his attention directed at me in indignation at my authoritative voice, the one who dared challenge his newfound reign.

 The feathers turned from white to red and whipped out like bright tendrils, like I was flying with wings of fire. I aimed at him, bright like a comet in the sky.

Mingfei roared at my side. Far below us the corpses of the Devil Clan and the Hydra Elite forces, who had been entombed in silk, burst out and took to the air as Death Servitors under his command. 

The war would continue! Dragon against dragon!

Herzog turned and began to climb into the air above the clouds. But I was gaining on him, his tail growing closer to my teeth. He let out a furious howl of frustration. He turned and dove, seeking an escape, only to fly right towards Chisei’s gaping maw. He dodged at the last second, snatching his wing from between the silver dragon’s jaws. 

Another surge of strength stretched the flames of my wings even farther, turning them white hot.  Pursued and hounded by an ascended Chisei, Herzog couldn’t dodge me and we collided. I embraced him and sank my teeth into his neck. He twisted out of my grip, howling as my fiery wing tip lashed him across the eye.

Desperate gripping his bleeding eye, he dove down at high speed. I didn’t follow him, letting Mingfei and Chisei pursue. As soon as he broke below the cloud cover however, he was met with yet another force of nature: A blast of heat so fierce it punched a hole through the clouds.

Chu Zihang. His scales were molten hot, shimmering like lava, and like a volcano he was in a constant state of blast and eruption.

Herzog’s wings folded limp, thin tendrils of smoke rising from his singed scales. After moving away some distance, he pivoted on one wingtip and aimed his eyes towards me, nearly invisible, arrayed in the glare of my wings of pure light.

Mingfei’s wings stroked against mine, completely unharmed, still holding on to the metal he’d torn from the jetfighters. I batted him away. He laughed.

He addressed Herzog. “Humans are really stupid aren’t they? Dr. Herzog. You have successfully evolved into a dragon after years and years of time, toil and countless human lives and yet we have achieved it in an instant.”

The newly hatched White King didn’t respond. This new so-called Dragon God had nothing to say.

“You made me sad. And when I’m sad, I want to kill. It doesn't matter to me if I kill a fellow dragon.”

“Who are you... what are you? What are you?!” Herzog hissed, trembling in fear and pain.

Mingfei's wings stroked the air. “I’m Zero... didn’t I tell you? As for who I am, you should be able to guess.”

“It’s you! It’s you! It’s you! You... you are him!” He pointed his clawed finger screaming with disbelief.

I’d never seen a dragon so cringing and pathetic. Was this really the White King? I turned to ‘Mingfei’, happy to finally have had a mystery unlocked in the end. No wonder I preferred him over all. It was only logical. His voice in my head was like a booming church bell.

“You are such a great existence...” I whispered to him.

“And yet you still reject my touch.” He replied.

I grinned at him.

Herzog was beside himself in shock and disbelief. “I was so close to the world’s ultimate power!”

Lu finally grew irritated. “What you call power is a pathetic imitation. At any rate... at least you’ve dressed well for your funeral.”

Herzog stopped yelling a moment to stare in shock.

Mingfei's voice dripped with derision. “Isn’t it your funeral tonight? You didn’t think you were going to leave here alive did you?” Mingfei looked into the sky. “This moonlit night is very suitable for burying a king. The rise and fall of a God in one night. Unprecedented.”

Herzog beat his wings, writhing and seething with anger. “I can’t believe it! So many years! So many years to get here and in the end, who do I meet but YOU! You are DEAD! You! LONG AGO! DEAD!”

Mingfei snorted. “You rebel against reality, but there is only one here who can truly change what’s real and what’s not. You exist only by her permission,” Mingfei chuckled.

“What are you saying...? I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Mingfei folded his arms across his chest. “You made a mistake. You offended someone who you shouldn’t have, Herzog.”

The newly hatched White King turned to me. He opened his mouth at me and directed a powerful soul skill. Royal Fire. 

Mingfei looked at me with a confident smile. The flames only reached half way before Mingfei spoke. “Canceled.”

The flames, as powerful as a nuclear bomb, dissipated.

Herzog was taken aback. He tried another. “Wind Lord’s Stare!” A powerful tempest swirled in front of me. “Cancel...” said Mingfei. It died before arriving.

Scorch! Canceled!

Glacier! Canceled!

Majesty! Canceled!

I tilted my head at him. “Are you showing off?”

Mingfei shrugged. “I know that if I used my Soul Skills they wouldn’t be effective against him either. We cancel each other out. You can end him with a word and yet you don’t do it.”

I turned away from him momentarily.

He took the two pieces of metal fragments he carried in his claws and in a moment they melted. He molded them into the form of a large sword. 

The swords called The Seven Deadly Sins were forged after the death of the White King to kill the four dragon lords. They would not be effective against the White King.

But this one that Lu Mingfei created was specific for this opponent. He let out a roar and charged forward, Chisei and Zihang flying after him. The legion of death Servitors joined the fray.

To the people on the ground, it sounded like a horrific storm of strong wind and thunder. Dragons were always mistaken for forces of nature and this was no exception. Every time Mingfei clashed with the White king, they spit fire and lightning and roiled the clouds.

Powerful surges energy made for an unnatural display of an aurora in the sky and the sound generated was enough to shake the foundations of the buildings still standing, knocking out what power still remained in the city. 

Herzog spewed jagged forks lightning from his mouth, stunning the Servitor legion, but stopped to grip the blade of Mingfei before it could split his skull. He wrapped his serpent's body around him and raked his claws across his chest. 

Chisei collided with the White King Herzog’s back, digging in his claws. Herzog whirled on him, slashing him across the face.

Chu Zihang slammed his elbow into his jaw at full speed, heat blasting like a furnace. They tumbled, screaming towards Tokyo Bay. Mingfei said a word and a frigid wind began turning the sea waves into jagged peaks of ice. 

Chu Zihang let go, preferring not to land on it, but Chisei zoomed by, tackled Herzog and held on, smacking hard enough onto the cold surface to crack it.

Their hot blood sizzled on the frozen ocean as they separated, facing one another. They were all wounded and bleeding. Herzog held his hand to his throat, forcing it to heal shut. When he looked at the wounds sustained by Chisei, Zihang and Mingfei however, he began to laugh.

“So you’re not invulnerable either! You only have the shape of kings and emperors but you are FAKE! If you were complete, I would be dead!”

“True... none of us are complete.” Mingfei said. “But I have the heart of a dragon, while you... You only have the heart of a man no matter how much blood you drink.” Mingfei sneered.

“You are a great creature and I am also an equally great creature.  Why are we fighting each other?” He slithered across the ice toward him.

Suddenly I looked up at a bright form that was like a star as it began to move up from the horizon. I gasped in realization and sent a silent command to Zihang and Chisei to keep quiet. The fight was over. Herzog had lost.

“We can share this world. There is still the Wind King that needs defeating not to mention the rest of humanity and the Hybrids.”

“Share the throne with you?” Mingfei asked.

“Humans and Dragons are ants to us...” He said. “You are the only thing in this world with any value.” Herzog kept his eyes on Mingfei, looking for any signs of weakness.

“You are nothing but a maggot! How dare you ask me to share a throne with you!” Mingfei charged forward. The blade he had created impaled Herzog as if he had no bones.

Herzog screamed and hooked his claws into Mingfei’s chest but Mingfei beat his wings and took Herzog with him into the sky. The dragon king bit him over and over. Lu took the punishment, soaring ever higher. 

“Doctor, you don’t know dragons at all. There are no true alliances without coercion. Dragons fight endlessly! I will die before I align with you!” He sank his fangs into Herzog’s neck and continued to drag him into the sky like a leopard making off with its prey. Herzog screeched. The atmosphere became cold and thin as they rose beyond an altitude where flight was possible.

Lu Mingfei’s pupils began to dim. 

Sensing his ebbing strength, my heart sank and beat my wings, making a little mournful circle below.

Gasping for air, Herzog wrestled the sword from Mingfei’s weakening grip and chopped his wings off with it. He heaved his tail to free himself. Mingfei fell.

I soared to him and caught him in my arms. Calling my two other soldiers, we soared away form Herzog a good distance. Mingfei smiled at me. 

“Hold me up so I can see... Meixiu...”

I halted my flight and turned him back to face where we came. Herzog was staring at us in midair, hovering. He had a confused, puzzled look on his face.

Something bright like a meteor plunged from the sky and struck him directly. Followed by five more. There were, not one, but six swords of Damocles that were released from the space kinetic weapon, the bright star I saw moving across the sky.

I wasn’t sure how, but Mingfei had manipulated things so that the sword didn’t fall on Chisei and me. While we were unconscious in our cocoons, the satellite carrying the swords had begun to complete another revolution around the earth. Mingfei had waited until the right time to put Herzog in the line of fire.

The metal rods melted in the heat of re-entry and disintegrated into a hot rain that inflamed the atmosphere and turned it red. The swarm of space debris engulfed Herzog in pure fire and tore his body apart.

The molten hailstorm hit the ice sea, prompting great geysers to erupt into the air. The bright bits of metal continued to glow as they sank and put boiling water under the ice. The frozen water cracked and burst with the pressure of the steam. Herzog’s ravaged corpse hit the half frozen, half boiling water and shattered.

After several seconds, nothing further happened. Bright debris continued to streak across the sky as I looked down at the bloody young man in my arms. He raised one hand to my face.

“Ouroboros... always on the sidelines...” he chuckled.

I stayed silent. A power like mine was not to be wielded lightly. Not even by a goddess. I turned my eyes to the horizon far beyond Japan.

Mingfei’s smile dimmed. “Really? That guy?”

“Were it not for interference, he wouldn’t have died.” I closed my eyes, gasping with the effort. “By turning back this small injustice… Herzog will be completely erased.”

[bechloeislegit]

25 Days of BeChloe Christmases - 2019

DAY 17 - SANTA'S DAUGHTER

Prompt from FanFiction User ChrisM92: My idea is inspired by the new movie Noelle that Anna Kendrick just did. [See the end for the full prompt.]

"What do you mean Nick is gone?" Mrs. Kringle asked.

"I mean. Nick. Is. Gone," Beca responded. "No one has seen him around the Pole and no one knows where he is. He took the sleigh."

"This can't be happening," Mrs. Kringle said, pacing around the room. "Your father must be turning in his grave over this."

"What does that mean?" Beca asked. "Turning in his grave?"

Mrs. Kringle stopped and looked at Beca. "It means, he would be upset that this is happening."

"Oh, right," Beca said. "What are we going to do?"

"We aren't going to do anything," Mrs. Kringle said. "You, Rebecca Noelle Kringle, are going to go out and find your brother."

"ME?" Beca yelled her mouth agape. "Why me?"

"You're his sister," Mrs. Kringle replied. "He listens to you. You need to find him and bring him back home. Christmas is a little over a week away and we still have a lot to do."

"How am I supposed to find him? He took the sleigh."

"I don't know, but you'll have to figure out something."

Just then an elf ran into the room. "Santa's sleigh just came back. It was set to auto-pilot. There is no sign of Santa."

The elf ran out with Beca and Mrs. Kringle right behind him. They got to the middle of town and there was Santa's sleigh and all eight reindeer.

Beca rushed to the sleigh and climbed on board. She pushed some buttons and looked at the GPS.

"The last place the sleigh was is Barden, Georgia," Beca told her mother. "That must be where Nick went."

"You know what you must do," Mrs. Kringle said.

Beca sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "I'll let the reindeer rest and leave tomorrow."

Beca jumped off the sleigh and looked around at the elves, looking to her for instructions on what to do.

"Unhitch the team and get them fed," Beca said. "Clean up the sleigh and make sure to check everything. I want this sleigh ready to go first thing tomorrow morning."

The elves started rushing around to accomplish their tasks. Mrs. Kringle looked at Beca with a proud smile.

"That was very Santa-ish of you," Mrs. Kringle said. "If you can't convince Nick to come, we may have already found our new Santa."

Beca couldn't say anything; she just stared after her mother as she walked back toward their house.

~ Day 17 of 2019's 25 Days of BeChloe Christmases ~

"I have something for you," Elf Polly said, waking Beca the next morning.

"If it isn't some hot cocoa with a peppermint stick," Beca mumbled. "I'm not interested."

"Get up!" Polly said, grabbing Beca's foot and pulling her off the bed.

"Really?" Beca asked. "That's how you treat the next possible Santa?"

"Yes, it is," Polly said. "Now put this on."

"Is that my dad's suit?"

"Yes. I altered it to fit you."

"Why?"

"Because you need Santa's magic to help you find Nick and bring him home."

"Can I at least have breakfast first?"

"It's right there," Polly said, pointing out the tray next to Beca's bed.

Beca sat up and looked across the bed. "Thanks," she said and jumped onto the bed to get to the food.

Polly stood patiently waiting as Beca ate. Beca swallowed the last of her cocoa and let out a sigh of contentment.

"Get dressed," Polly said. "Everyone is waiting for you."

Beca took the suit and put it on. It fit her very well. She pulled on her boots and smoothed down the jacket.

"Don't forget this," Polly said, holding out Santa's hat.

"Wouldn't leave home without it," Beca said sarcastically.

Polly left the room and Beca followed. They made it to the sleigh and Beca checked everything before climbing on board. She set the GPS for Barden, Georgia, the last known location of the sleigh before it returned to the North Pole.

"We are a week away from Christmas," Mrs. Kringle told Beca. "You don't have much time to find Nick and get him back here so he can prepare for Christmas night."

"Got it," Beca said. She sang out and looked around. "Hmph." She sang out again and looked around. "Come on, Snow Cone! I can't do this without you!"

Suddenly, around the corner came a small, white reindeer. Snow Cone hopped into the sleigh with Beca and bounced around happily.

"Do you think it wise to take him with you?" Mrs. Kringle asked.

"Barden looks like a small town but it has a lot of places Nick could be," Beca said. "Snow Cone can track Nick."

"Okay," Mrs. Kringle said. "Take good care of him."

"I will," Beca said. She looked down at the tiny reindeer and asked, "Are you ready, Snow Cone?"

Snow Cone bleated and hopped up and down.

"Here goes nothing," Beca said. "Everyone clear?" she asked as she looked around the sleigh.

"All clear," a voice rang out.

"On Dasher, on Dancer, on Prancer and Vixen," Beca called out, holding onto the reins. "On Comet, on Cupid, on Donder and Blitzen."

The reindeer began to run and soon the sleigh was in the air. Beca smiled as they were on their way.

~ Day 17 of 2019's 25 Days of BeChloe Christmases ~

"Okay, guys," Beca called out to the reindeer. "We're near Barden and we need to find a place to land and hope no one sees us."

Beca looks down and notices a clear area in some woods and guides the sleigh to it. The landing is a bit bumpy, but all in all, not bad for her first solo run. Beca hops out of the sleigh with Snow Cone at her side. She walks to the front and looks at the team.

"Okay," Beca said. "I'm going to unhitch you so you can graze in this field. But you must stay in this area so we can make a quick getaway when I find Nick. Understand?"

The reindeer looked back at her, eyes blinking.

"I'll take that as you understand," Beca said.

Beca unhitched the team and checked her watch.

"Come on, Snow Cone," Beca said. "Barden is this way."

Beca walked for about half an hour before she came to what appeared to be a college. She stopped and looked around. She knelt next to Snow Cone.

"Okay, Snow Cone," Beca said. "I need you to track Nick. Find his scent. Go ahead."

Snow Cone stuck his nose in the air and started sniffing around. He suddenly started jumping up and down.

"Did you find his scent?" Beca asked and Snow Cone turned in circles. "Great! Lead the way."

Snow Cone took off with Beca following closely behind. They turned a corner and there were people all around.

"Halloween's over, numbnuts," a guy called out to her, laughing.

Beca looked back at the guy and frowned. "Halloween?"

~ Day 17 of 2019's 25 Days of BeChloe Christmases ~

A lot of people looked at Beca like she was crazy. A few made some comments; some of which made Beca blush.

It was getting dark and Beca still hadn't found Nick. She was also getting tired.

"Come on, Snow Cone," Beca said. "Let's get back to the sleigh. It's getting late and we need to sleep somewhere."

Beca checked her watch to locate the sleigh. "The sleigh is that way," Beca said, looking down at Snow Cone and pointing in the direction they needed to go.

Beca turned and bumped into someone. She grabbed their arms to keep them from falling.

"Whoa," Beca said. "Are you okay? Sorry about that I didn't see you."

"M'fine," a voice slurred.

Beca looked at the woman closely and couldn't help but smile. She was very pretty.

"Chloe Beale," Beca said, somehow knowing that was the woman's name.

The woman looked at Beca. "Do I know you?"

"Um, no," Beca said. "I'm Beca and I know you. You've been on Santa's Nice List since you were born."

"Is that supposed to be some pick-up line?" Chloe asked. "It's pretty lame although I must give you kudos for wearing the Santa suit to really sell it."

"Sell it?" Beca asked. "Sell what?"

"I have to go," Chloe said and turned to leave, only gravity had other ideas and she fell to the ground.

Beca rushed to her side. "Are you okay?"

"Don't mind me," Chloe said. "I'll just sleep here."

Beca looked at the woman again and checked her watch. She reached down and lifted Chloe, holding her bridal style.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to take you home."

"Oh. Okay," Chloe said and promptly passed out.

~ Day 17 of 2019's 25 Days of BeChloe Christmases ~

Beca managed to get Chloe to her apartment and gently laid her on the sofa. Beca looked around and frowned. The place was just one room with a small kitchen area and what appeared to be a bathroom through the only door Beca saw.

"Our list said Chloe Beale is a veterinarian," Beca mumbled. "I'd think she'd be able to live better than this."

Beca looked at her watch and clicked a few links. "Oh," Beca said. "Wow, she's had a bad year. Someone sued her because their dog died when Chloe performed surgery on him. They won and Chloe's vet license was revoked. But, it says here there was nothing she could do. The dog was too badly injured. That doesn't seem right."

Chloe stirred and mumbled before settling down. Beca looked at her.

"You've lost your Christmas spirit," Beca said, somewhat awed. "I'm going to help you get it back. Well, as soon as I find Santa, my brother."

Beca took the blanket off the back of the sofa and gently placed it over Chloe. She then looked around the apartment and found another blanket and a pillow. She made a bed on the floor and laid down.

"Come on, Snow Cone," Beca said. "It's time to sleep."

~ Day 17 of 2019's 25 Days of BeChloe Christmases ~

Beca was awakened the next morning by a shrill scream. She jolted up and looked around to find Chloe standing over her with a large frying pan in her hand.

"Wh-who are you?" Chloe asked. "And what are you doing in my apartment?"

"Oh," Beca said, jumping up to face Chloe. Chloe took a step back, holding the frying pan like a weapon. "I'm Beca. Santa's daughter."

"Oh, God," Chloe said, shaking her head as if trying to make things clear. "I must still be drunk."

"You were last night," Beca said. "You passed out so I carried you home."

Snow Cone started bleating and hopping around. He rose into the air in front of Beca and Beca pulled him to her.

"What the hell is that?" Chloe asked, looking at Snow Cone.

"This is Snow Cone," Beca said, smiling. "He's a reindeer in training."

"I think I need another drink," Chloe mumbled.

"No, you don't," Beca said.

Beca put Snow Cone down on the floor and took a step toward Chloe. Chloe took two steps away from Beca.

"I get it," Beca said, holding up her hands to show she wasn't dangerous. "You've lost your Christmas Spirit and don't believe in Santa. I'm here to help you get it back. And to find my brother, who really is Santa."

"How do I know you're telling the truth?"

"Ask me anything about Christmas."

"What did I ask Santa for when I was six years old?"

Beca checked her watch and frowned. "I'm sorry Santa wasn't able to bring your grandmother back. He's magical but he can't bring back someone who has died. And, I'm sorry for your loss."

Chloe's eyes widened. "How do you know that?" she whispered. "I never told anyone about that."

"Santa's daughter here," Beca said, pointing to herself. "I'm not lying about that."

Chloe lowered the frying pan and sat down on the sofa. "I must be in some kind of alcohol-induced dream. Ow! Why did you pinch me?"

"To let you know this is not a dream," Beca said, sitting next to Chloe. "I'm really Santa's daughter and I'm here to help you."

Chloe ran a hand through her hair. "I used to love Christmas. But, this last year has taken a toll on me."

"I know," Beca said. "I'm going to help you get your Christmas Spirit back. I also need your help to find my brother or there won't be a Christmas."

"How can I help you find your brother?"

"Snow Cone can track him," Beca said. "I need your help to fit in so we aren't recognized."

Chloe looked at Beca's Santa suit and smiled. "We need to get you some different clothes."

Beca looked down at her suit. "You don't like my clothes?"

"They're perfect if you want people staring at you," Chloe said. "But if you want to find your brother, you need to dress like everyone else."

"How do I do that?"

"I'll lend you some of my clothes," Chloe said.

~ Day 17 of 2019's 25 Days of BeChloe Christmases ~

An hour later, Beca and Chloe had both showered and Chloe had given Beca some of her clothes. Beca looked down at her outfit.

"This is what everyone is wearing?" Beca asked. "The jeans have rips and tears in them."

"That's the way we wear them," Chloe said, looking Beca up and down. "You look cute in my clothes."

"Oh, um, thank you," Beca said, blushing.

"Let's get some breakfast and discuss how you plan to find your brother," Chloe said.

Chloe grabbed her jacket and went to the door. She looked over to see Beca still standing where she left her.

"Let's go," Chloe said, putting her jacket on. "We only have six days to find your brother."

"Oh, right," Beca said and moved toward Chloe. Snow Cone followed her, floating through the air.

"Um, we need to do something about that," Chloe said, looking at Snow Cone.

"Snow Cone, down," Beca said, pushing him gently to the ground. "You need to stay grounded until we get back to the sleigh, okay?"

Snow Cone looked at her. "Good. Let's go," Beca said.

Snow Cone caught Nick's scent but kept going in all directions.

"Your brother has been all over the place," Chloe said. "Maybe we need to go where there are fewer people and see if Snow Cone can catch Santa's scent." Chloe shook her head with a laugh. "Not a sentence I'd thought I'd ever say."

It took two days for Snow Cone to find Nick's scent and followed it straight to Nick.

"Are you sure this is it?" Beca asked, looking down at Snow Cone.

Snow Cone sat, looking up at Beca, his little reindeer tail wagging.

"Okay," Beca said and knocked on the door.

The door was opened by a man with brown hair and twinkling blue eyes.

"Nick!" Beca squealed.

"Beca?" Nick said. "What are you doing here?

"Looking for you, loser," Beca said as she pushed him aside and entered the apartment. Chloe and Snow Cone following close behind her.

"Who's this?" Nick asked, looking at Chloe.

"You don't know?" Beca asked, surprised. "You should know just by looking at her. You are Santa Claus and Santa knows everyone by sight."

"Nope, sorry," Nick said.

"But, you knew who I was when you saw me," Chloe said, looking at Beca. "How did you do that?"

"I... don't know," Beca said.

"I do," Nick said with a knowing smile. "You're the real Santa."

"I am not!" Beca exclaimed. "You take that back!"

"Can't," Nick said, his smile growing wider. "Look, Beca, you've always been more like Dad than I ever was. I knew I wasn't Santa material, but everyone was expecting it to be me since I'm male. But, you're the one that has all the traits of Santa."

"I don't know what to say," Beca said. "What do I do? I'm expected to bring Santa back home so he can deliver all the toys on Christmas."

"Go home," Nick said. "And you will have fulfilled your duty of bringing Santa home so she can deliver all the toys on Christmas."

"He's right, Beca," Chloe said. "I felt something change inside me since I've been around you. I've started to believe in the magic of Christmas again. And I definitely believe in Santa. That's all because of you."

"You need to decide quickly," Nick told Beca. "You've only got four days until Christmas."

Beca bit her bottom lip and looked deep in thought.

"I need to get back to the sleigh," Beca said. "Nick, will you come home with me and tell mom about not wanting to be Santa?"

"Sure," Nick said. "As long as you promise to bring me back here when you're on your rounds?"

"I promise," Beca said with a smile. "And Santa never breaks a promise." She turned to Chloe. "As for you, I'd like to see you again."

"Well, you did say I was on the Nice List," Chloe said with a grin. "So, I guess I'll definitely be seeing you on Christmas."

"You most definitely will. I promise," Beca said. "Do you want to go with us to the sleigh?"

"I'd love to," Chloe said, excitedly.

~ Day 17 of 2019's 25 Days of BeChloe Christmases ~

After a quick stop at Chloe's apartment, so Beca could change back into her Santa suit, Snow Cone led the way back to the sleigh.

"Wow!" Chloe exclaimed when the sleigh and reindeer came into sight. "This is amazing."

Chloe walked around the sleigh, lightly running her hand over it. She was startled when Beca let out a loud whistle.

"Alright, you guys," Beca called out. "Get into formation."

Chloe stared in amazement as the reindeer came and stood in the proper position in front of the sleigh. Beca and Nick quickly hitched the team up and Beca looked over at Chloe with a soft smile.

"Hey," Beca said, walking over to Chloe and taking her hands in hers.

"Hey," Chloe said.

"I'll see you in a few days," Beca said.

"I'll see you in a few days," Chloe repeated. "Um, am I allowed to kiss Santa before she leaves?"

"Santa has no objections to that," Beca said.

Chloe slowly leaned in and kissed Beca. Beca kissed her back.

The kiss ended and Beca smiled before turning to get on the sleigh. Chloe was smiling as well as she stepped away from the sleigh. Nick and Snow Cone got in the sleigh and Beca took the reins.

With one last look at Chloe, Beca turned and called out, "On Dasher, on Dancer, on Prancer and Vixen. On Comet, on Cupid, on Donder and Blitzen."

The reindeer began to run and soon the sleigh was in the air. Beca smiled as she looked back at Chloe and waved.

~ Day 17 of 2019's 25 Days of BeChloe Christmases ~

It was two in the morning on Christmas, when Chloe heard a noise. She sat up and saw Beca standing there, looking at her with a smile on her face.

"I've been waiting for you," Chloe said, smiling.

"I promised I'd be here," Beca said. "And Santa never breaks a promise."

"I know," Chloe said, standing and walking to Beca. She put her hands on the fur collar of Beca's suit and pulled her toward her. "I hope this is okay," Chloe murmured as she pulled Beca in for a kiss.

"Mm-Hmm," Beca mumbled as she returned the kiss.

Chloe pulled back and put her arms around Beca's neck. "So, what's the protocol if someone wants to ask Santa out on a date?"

"Well," Beca said. "I'm not sure, but I think I know a way to figure that out."

"Oh, yeah?" Chloe asked.

"Yeah," Beca said. "Chloe Beale, would you like to go out with me?"

"Why I thought you'd never ask," Chloe said and leaned in for another kiss. She pulled back and said, "That's a yes by the way."

"I got that," Beca said, pulling Chloe closer. "Merry Christmas, Chloe."

"Merry Christmas, Santa," Chloe said.

They kissed again and only stopped when Beca heard a noise on the roof of the apartment building.

"I have to go," Beca said. "Duty calls."

"I understand," Chloe said, stepping out of Beca's embrace.

"I'll call you about that date," Beca said as she headed for the door.

"You'd better," Chloe said.

"I promise," Beca said and winked at her.

Beca left and Chloe laid down on the sofa, touching her lips where Beca had kissed her. She squealed and did a little happy dance before making herself comfortable and going back to sleep.

Chloe woke several hours later and was surprised to see a wrapped package sitting on the coffee table in front of her. It wasn't there when she went to sleep. She sat up and picked up the package.

"Did Beca come back?" Chloe thought to herself.

Chloe unwrapped the gift and found a box. She opened it to find a note and read it.

Merry Christmas, Chloe.

This is so I'll always be able to reach you.

Love, Santa

Chloe smiled as she set the note down and looked inside the box. Her smile grew bigger when she pulled out a cell phone. She bit her bottom lip and pressed the call button to see what would happen. She laughed when she heard: Hi, Chloe. You've reached Santa. I'm sorry I can't come to the phone right now but leave a message and I promise I will call you back.

"A very Merry Christmas to me," Chloe said. She was all smiles as she placed the phone on the table and went about her morning.

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

Full prompt from FanFiction User ChrisM92: My idea is inspired by the new movie Noelle that Anna Kendrick just did. Where Beca could be Santa's daughter and has to save Christmas. Chloe could use some saving too this Christmas and who better than Beca? Thank you!

[whirlybirbs]

▣ ┈ OF ALTERNATE TIMELINES !

summary: SET IN ENDGAME, you and loki have crossed paths previously (before the whole sakaar incident, that is) -- you were both younger, and with a little help from a time heist gone awry, you and loki’s paths re-intertwine in a way neither of you could have ever predicted. verse: alternate timeline, set mostly in 2012!au, avengers tower setting pairing: fake!wife x loki, established here + here (literally it’s all them. my whole loki tag.) word count: 1.2k a/n: the idea of her & loki meeting before their original universe did really struck me as something fun to do, so here’s a nice little au fic i’ll chip away at when i can. goes without saying, THERE ARE ENDGAME SPOILERS IN THIS FIC.

This is not how you thought your week would go.

You started your Monday with Loki, God of Mischief, crash landing through the lab you’d been completely your summer placement at, brainwashing your boss (and the nice agent guy who watched over the glowing nuclear cube), and, finally, stealing the one thing you’d been studying for the entirety of summer 2012 for your first official research journal outside of undergrad.

By Thursday, Midtown had been reduced to debris, aliens were confirmed real, the Avengers were a household name, and you were desperately trying to wrangle a stir-crazy Erik Selvig off the rooftop terrace of Stark Tower.

“Erik, where are your pants?!”

“They were burnt.”

His eyes aren’t a milky blue anymore, so you suppose that’s a good thing -- he is, however, off his metaphysical shits and you’re really trying to get him to calm down in the Stark Tower lobby when the aforementioned Avengers pull a glorified perp walk for the reporters clamoring outside.

You try not to stare -- swathed in the colorful team of superheroes, the infamous Loki towers over them all. His cape, emerald and tattered, follows him like a shadow and you have to fight the urge to snarl. He’s imposing and even when he’s muzzled, you can see the cunning flash of a smirk when he spots your boss by the lobby’s main desk. He looks less sickly since you last saw him -- he’s all sharp angles and split lip now, though. The God is smug.

Erik notices.

Annoyance bites at your nerves as Erik begins to slip into a Norwegian diatribe directed at the fallen Silvertongue. You groan and move quickly, cursing and pushing yourself between the now stopped group of Avengers and the angry, pants-less astrophysicist.

“Erik, c’mon, why don’t we go for a walk --”

“Yep, go ahead, pal,” Tony chirps, “Walk it out. Half a’ New York has a bone to pick with Hot Topic over here.”

“He is a disgrace! A-A cosmic buffoon!”

You’re pressed between Tony and Erik, feeling the eyes of the God bore into your skull as you try to save him from the delirious verbal smackdown your boss was looking to serve. He definitely has a head injury. You plant a hand on the tattered dress shirt of Selvig, pleading quietly.

“Can we do this somewhere else?” you grit out with a sense of urgency, noting the appearance of Alex Pierce -- the resident member of World Security Council no doubt had a bone to pick with Stark and judging by the tightening of Tony’s grip on the briefcase in his hands, he’s aware. The man is parading through the doors of the lobby, surrounded by agents in crisp suits.

You blink around Erik, deciding nope this is so above your pay grade, before groaning, “Why don’t we go get Starbucks -- you like those frappuccino things they have, right, Erik?”

At this point, you’re just desperately trying to not discredit you and Erik’s research journal with his antics being broadcast by Newsweek and CNN alike.

Loki can’t help but think, this is all so very curious. Midgardians are quite cute.

He’d been made aware, from eavesdropped pieces of Romanoff’s and Barton’s conversations, that the hierarchical food chain is quite complex when it comes to cosmic interferences like the one he’d so wrought upon the New City of York. So many acronyms… S.H.I.E.L.D. and S.T.R.I.K.E. and W.S.C., he’s sure there’s probably about six more, but he’d be lying if he said he’d bothered to listen.

Loki, absentmindedly, wishes he’d maybe done this whole world domination bit 200 years sooner -- certainly there wouldn’t have been much stopping him then. No Iron Men, at least.

(He doesn’t know it yet, but if he’d done this 200 years earlier, he would have never met you. Not that it matters right now. He doesn’t know the future, that’s more of his mother’s bit. Somewhere in the stars, Frigga is painfully aware of you, a fiery comet, dodging her sons orbit in this moment. But, Scott Lang’s verified Time Heist is about to send you both careening towards one another like a boomerang effect.)

“Not to interrupt --”

“Great, more suits,” Stark chirps, “Here for the case? Too bad.”

“Mr. Stark,” Pierce begins, “This is a matter of global security. We’re here for the case and... the prisoner.”

Pierce is like a vulture. You decide quickly you don’t like him.

Erik, then, sees it as his turn to verbally maul the next person in line -- the words that fly from his mouth don’t make sense and you’re trying to pry him away from Pierce as Stark’s voice escalates and Thor booms out a deep: “Woah, woah woah!” as Nat tries to step up and shove off the rogue S.H.I.E.L.D. agents clambering for the case. It’s a shit show, an absolute mess, and you’re being jostled in the middle, trying to pluck the agents away from your summer research project with an irritated look.

And, then, Tony drops to the floor.

Panic quickly floods the space the anger had created and the case is long since forgotten, clattering to the floor and skidding away from Tony and the huddle forming around him as he convulses on the pristine tiles of the lobby. 

Your eyes follow the case from your spot knelt beside Tony, mirroring Loki’s exact motion -- you’re both trained on the case sliding across the room and into the hands of a man posted by the door to the stairs.

Then, you see her.

It’s you -- older and frozen at the sight of the towering God to your left. Her face is set in something mournful and there’s no doubting that you’re looking in a mirror (a sad, broken one). You go rigid, mind running 99mph down the interstate of confusion. The other you... Her hair is longer, glasses skewed on her face. She’s posed in a lab coat and heels, looking like she belongs. With a broken sound, she suddenly calls out:

“Loki?”

She’s looking at him like she knows him.

Loki looks at her, then behind him. His brows raise, chained hands moving to gesture at himself.

Me?

You gawk. What the fuck.

“No, no,” calls the agent gripping the case; the voice is familiar and he moves to stop her -- er, you -- as she moves forward, “No, c’mon kid, don’t --”

From your spot on the floor, you blink, exchanging a look with the God of Mischief who’s currently also riding the mind-fuck train.

Curious.

And then, the Hulk throws open the door, clocking the agent in question, sending other-you to the floor and shattering the briefcase on its hinges. The cube, hot and azure and pulsing slides back across the floor like a terribly dangerous game of air-hockey and your breath catches in your throat as it collides with the towering God’s boot adjacent to you.

Another exchanged glance.

And then, Loki bends and snatches it up.

You yelp, spitting out an embarrassing mosh of Thor and Tony’s name at once, and launch yourself after your summer research project. In a blink, you tumble into a roaring, glittering, dizzying tailspin through time and space. 

Your yells mingle with Loki’s as the balance of the travel is thrown off, rocketing you both across the stars in a haze of panic. You’re both battling for grip of the cube, and when you make impact with the damp concrete of a 17th street back alley, you both shout in fear as the cube lands --

Two hands reach for the stone.

And it shatters in a burst of sky blue.

Your week ends with staring yourself in the eyes again, only this time from the body of a God. You blink down at hands that aren’t your own as Loki mimics the reaction.

He screams and you faint.

[abloomntime]

A Bloom In Time P 11

(Disclaimer: The moss part I do NOT know is true, if you want to look it up go right ahead. Im just using it as logic on their fake planet and for the story.)

She felt sick.

The stretching fast feeling of teleporting was something she swore she never wanted to after that last incident of her zooming off into space with a tight sickly feeling, that left her crashlanding into a child's bedroom for a couple hours. But here she was again, only this time she was traveling through space in a different light. The blue-white light faded away into sparkles and allowed her to see she was laying down face up towards the endless blackness of space, but as the sparkles of light faded off she could only gasp and stare off into the quiet silence of the black.

Was this it?....Did she die and what happened before was all just a dream? Was she being taken to where ever beautiful place spirits went?

No. Couldn't have been. She was slowly falling backwards, strands of red hair slowly waving past her face as if she was underwater and slowly sinking down ever so slowly. Her blue eyes widened at the sight of thousands of stars twinkling and blinking at her good bye as she continued her decent, reflecting in her eyes as if they were the sea on a starry night. Two shooting stars stars shoot above her caught her attention when she blinked and her head followed them as they distended over her and forward. Following them Poppy's body turned along with her movements and she gasped. The-....The world! Her world! It was right there! Big, bold and wonderful! The round planet seemed to have an aura of it's own and glowed perfectly. The perfect gentle blue of the sea, the bright tan yellows of the desert. Many islands. The highest mountains surrounded by pure white clouds even looked as if she could reach out and grasp it almost. Did she sure she wasn't dead? Something whooshed over head and she looked up again to sparkling light. The two comets or shooting stars where still in front of her but much farther up ahead as they descended to the subcon planet. They were headed right for a giant strange dark, purple spot along one of the coasts as she could see, and even if they weren't on the same path, she could see from where she was slowly falling that she was headed right to that strange purple area too. It looked and gave her a different feeling compared to the rest of the planet. It looked....almost sad. Why? Well she was about to find out as she continued to free fall slowly but steadily down towards the world. She breifly wondered where her kingdom was and what happened to it for all this time but those thoughts were short lived when suddenly a giant gust of air blasted her in the face and on instinct shut her eyes and held her arms in front of her head to sheild her. She had just broken through the atmosphere of the plant and now free falling faster through the sky. Faced down towards the ground but after a moment she dared to reopen them. What came outta her was a sudden gasp of shock as panic and fear once again pulsed through her veins. She wasn't just in the wide open endless space anymore, she was falling through the sky pretty fast with white fluffy clouds whizzing by her now very fast form and she could barely open her eyes with all the wind blasting her right now. Her braid and hair whipping around wildly ultimately coming undone and becoming a red streak behind her. Making her look like a falling streak of a comment ready to strike the planet. She was taking deep breath and tumbling head over heels, her world turning that that time she tumbled down the hill as a kid. Only it went Sky n clouds then Purple land. Sky n clouds. Purple land. SKY N CLOUDS!! PURPLE LAND!! PURPLE!! BLUE!! WHITE!! PURPLE!! BLUE!! WHITE!! By this rate she would meet her doom when she hit the ground!! She slammed her eyes shut as she saw what looked like the ground and her body crashlanded into something hard making pain explode into the side of her body she slammed into what felt like wood!! WOOD definately!! Poppy knew that plant feeling anywhere. She yelled and cried out as her body slammed and tumbled into branches and other vegitation stranded on the vines. Just when she was SURE she would be made into a human pancake- SHE STOPPED!! The feeling of rope wrapped around her made her uneasy as she just kept her eyes slammed shut, shook, and breathed heavily.

Over head crows cawed and flew away sensing something bigger than her and the giant spider who might've attacked her for food immediately decided to climb up higher in the trees away from her and try to hide within the branches. With her eyes shut she didn't see the giant shadow rush past her on his way home, nor did he notice her hung above stranded by vines. She continued to breath heavily until with the confidence she was blessed with by her father, she opened one eye..... and seeing herself hung maybe three feet above the very edge of a dirty pond, she opened the other. Still breathing heavily, she blinked at the ground before wipping her head up and around. Purple. Around herself was lots of purple, dead trees, and when she looked behind her she saw what would would be called a bog. The only problem was there was enough fog surrounding her to make it where she couldn't see more than maybe ten feet away from her current position. Her body like suspected, was held up by vines most likely from the trees she crash landed into. Leaves and sticks stuck into her now long waist length hair. Her mind worried about not being able to see where exactly this bog began or ended, but after a moment she sighed. Heart beat going down. Glad she was still alive at least- SNAP!! She yelped and a moment later a loud splash echoed out as the vines finally gave under her weight and left the poor lady crashing into the swamp water. Thank peck it was only a few inches but that didn't stop her from becoming all dirty and wet from it. She quickly pushed her front from the swamp water and spat out the dirt tasting water from her mouth coughing and reaching one arm up to rub at her eyes as she use the other to crawl out from it. She didn't see the magic arm from the swamp reach out to drag her further in but stopped because 1. She was already too far close to the edge to really drag in, and 2. She was out within a few seconds anyways. The magic arm retreated from where it came from just as fast and she still didn't see it as she continued o cough and spit out the taste. Groaning and sitting upon her knees as she got her bearings and let her body have a moment from the light feeling of falling from space, pain from crash landing in trees, and now cold and wet from the water now. Once she was done getting the taste out of her mouth she stuck her tongue out in a normal 'yuck' expression and blinked around at the strange fog induced place of purple. She....She must've crash landed in some kind of bog or swamp. Either way, she was glad she wasn't dead at least.

"......Frozen to death for a thousand years loosing everything by the hands of a crazy queen turned into a monster, who then got rescued by aliens on a spaceship with a ghost father, then I fell from space into a bog and now I'm all dirty and wet while almost dying again......Can't get worse than this surely," she muttered as she shakily pushed herself on aching legs and shimmied out of whatever vines were left clinging to her. Now was not the time for sitting down and feeling sorry for her situation no matter how unbeleivable it was or how much her body ached. What she needed right now was a way out. Now what did she learn on her Dad's farm? "Let's see." She held her chin. "The planet's sun rises to the very middle of the sky when it's exactly 12 p.m. every day except in winter when days are slower and it changes to 2 p.m., so depending on where I landed on the planet it could be any time. ...And it's too foggy to determine what time zone or direction it's heading." She could pull her hair at that. Ok. THINK Poppy! The sky was a bright blue when you fell. So at most it's somewhere between a late-ish morning and early afternoon. So at most she was somewhere realtivly in the middle of a continant right?  So either way if her planet's sun was somewhere in at least the north of the sky...That would mean...She still had no idea. "UGH!! How do sailors navigate like this!?"

OK!! Obviously the fog was messing up her surroundings and even looking up proved no results as she groaned and looked around some more until she spotted it....MOSS!! OF COURSE!! WHY HADN'T SHE THOUGHT OF THAT SOONER?! MOSS USUALLY GROWS ON THE NORTH SIDE OF TREES!! Poppy instantly began looking around at these poor, poor trees. Breifly wondering why they were all so devoid of life and low and behold there it was!! A small patch of green dingy moss stuck out on one tree near the swamp water and quicker than she thought, she raced towards it and grabbed the old crusty bark where it was. Now moss didn't ALWAYS grow on the side of trees but it was the only thing she could go on at the moment and guess. She stood up slowly after inspecting it and looked in the direction it was pointing, towards the water.

"So if north is presumably in THAT direction, then south would be in the complete opposite. Which means east would be behind me and west in front." She gave a cringe look at the water again. "And considering the water seems to end there....the most likely way to avoid this water would be to go in the opposite direction." She pointed a hand in what hopefully was south. "So that way would seem the best way to get out of this creepy place."

Or at least she hoped so. Hang on a second? Wasn't she supposed to be with some kind of little alien? Where the world did they go?! She literally free fell was space to her doom for crying out loud! Was this how aliens traveled to planets?! By freefalling from their ship? She shook her head, some of the dirt and sticks falling to the ground from her tangled up mess. She had better get stepping if she wanted to find some way out of here..and get a bath. But she soon discovered it wasn't going to be that easy trudging through the weird swamp or dead forest fast. The fog was so thick it would've taken at least four of the strongest lumberjacks in the land to make so much as a dent in it. The only thing she could see were tall long slender shadows which turned out to just be more dead trees. It was strange, these trees had no life in them that's for sure...but also showed no signs of rotting away like she was sure they should've had by the looks of them. strange. The only plants that she had seen so far that were alive was the strange vines she had thankfully been caught in before hitting the ground, it was strange. Purple dirt, heavy fog, dead trees all around...Made for something out of a campfire story. She couldn't even see the any sunlight beyond this stuff. As the woman made her way through the thick fog and strange forest of dead wood, she was VERY unaware of the dangers that lurked in them. After about maybe twenty or thirty minutes of this walking she brought her arms up to start rubbing at her sides. It wasn't very warm where ever she was, and her damp clothes clinging to her weren't helping either. Maybe it would've been better if she had just stayed on that ship with that blanket....

Maybe she would've been better off not even coming to this kingdom in the first place. If she knew a crazy queen was going to-

"Miss Poppy!?"

She jumped and snapped her head around at hearing her own name being called. It sounded very soft and distant, but still loud enough to be heard faintly. Could it be someone was looking for her or was she hearing things?

"HELLO?! IS SOMEONE THERE!! I CAN SURE USE A PECKIN' HAND HERE!!," she yelled out but got no response in return for her shout.

Whatever it was, it left as soon as it came but that didn't stop her from still looking around and not paying attention to where she was going so she shouldn't have been surprised when the ground suddenly swallowed her up making her fall backwards and yell out. What swallowed her up was a large flash of white and she once again felt herself get stuck up feet in the air again. Oh pecking GREAT! What had she gotten herself into NOW?! The white sheet felt like some kind of rucksack her father used to use to sack the potatoes before charting them off to the market place. But it was a dingy white from being hidden under a layer of dirt for who knows how long, and instead of potatoes it was HER that was stuck in them. Well not on her watch! Poppy, fed up with everything at this point just gritted her teeth and began pushing against the confines of her new prison. It was tight, compact, and obviously meant to hold tightly. Whoever had made it knew EXACTLY what they were doing when making it.

"PECKING STUPID TARP THING!!" She pushed against it and it wasn't easy in the cramped space and the swaying she caused with her pushing against the sides trying to get loose. Too bad she didn't have some kind of sheers or sharp object to cut through the thick tarp thing. "LET ME OUT!! IM DONE WITH THIS PECKING SHI-"

She was shut up when she felt the whole world shake. Knocking the poor trapped woman back onto her behind within the trap, what sounded like a humungous tree cracking and falling over with the shaking made her freeze up more as a sudden feeling of dread came over her and it was backed up by the swaying of the trap. Also caused by the shaking. The panicked cawing of crows as they flew to safety amplified whatever she was feeling, blue eyes looking around wildly until they locked onto movement. SOMETHING. BIG. Was just outside the tarp. A shadown silently moved along side the outside of the tarp and her breath hitched. OK! Don't freak Poppy! It was probably just a wild animal. Like a deer or a giant bird. Oh she hoped it wasn't a bear!

SNAP!!

The woman tumbled out from the bottem of the trap and her yelp was interrupted as she face planted the dirt. Dirt and small twings sticking to her still damp self. Purple. EVERYWHERE. Suddenly dark purple. Her head raised in horror as reality itself disappeared and purple warped her view everywhere. Her red hair coming down to block her face and screw up her world veiw even more but she preferred that over the same giant shadow suddenly falling over her and the booming raspy voice behind it that turned her body back to ice.

"AAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! FFFFFOOOOOOOLLLLL!!! YOU BLEW IT PUNY MORTAL!! NO ONE ENTERS MY DOMAIN AND WALKS OUT THE SAME!!" Poppy's frame began to shake as the foreboding feeling of something LARGE looming over her leaned down closer to her body. Goosebumps covered herself and the tall figure could literally hear her teeth chatter and her body shake. The fanged smile of Snatcher smiled despite himself, despite the day and a half. At least he could get a little pleasure out of seeing puny mortals shake before his might like they should be and see the fright in their eyes....Only he couldn't see her eyes, she was facing away from him. That would soon be fixed though. "You came at a very bad time, Lady. Unfortunately for you I'm not in a 'living' mood today. But tell you what, I'll grant you the honor of seeing your demise before it happens. Now. Turn. Around. And maybe I'll allow you to say some last words."

Poppy couldn't!! She just remained frozen within the dark of the shadow before her...but her body as if under some kind of spell, shaking badly, slowly turned to meet her doom. Snatcher smiled his best menacing smiled at the dirty sea of flame red hair, as the woman's arm was shaking. SLOWLY reaching up to move her hair away and he could clearly see the oh so scared blue horrified eyes and red freckles dotted along her face like rose petals blowing in the wind. But when they met....Both had opposite reactions. Poppy let a sudden inhale and loud gasp come from her throat. Feeling the blood drain from her face as the shadow blocked out any light avalible and what met her in the light's place was two round yellow eyes and a frowning mouth. She was an ant compared to him and for another time in her life, felt very very small. The entirety of the ghosts amusement and glee ABSOLUTELY disappeared once the features of the woman was shown to him. Making the ghost look like he's seen a ghost.

.......No.....NO!...NONONONONO!! This wasn't-.....N O!  The ghost's arms shook as he just stared down this woman. Yellow eyes wide and many many memories suddenly slapping him in the face as those yellow eyes saw the seen play before him as a downward spiral for him in panic and fear. A seen in a dungeon, a sobbing prince hanging from shackles as the cold crept in, one last promise escaping his lips to a Princess of Flowers. Sharp as a thorn. Hair red as roses. Blue eyes like hydrangeas. Skin as soft as petals. And always surrounded by a scent better than any lily. A final promise and good bye he made long ago with his final dying breath-

"I-Im s-so sorry, Poppy. I-...love-...you ..w-with all my heart and soul....may my soul...never....forget...that.."

"A-A-A-.......AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!"

Poppy frightfully ducked her hand back down at the unholy yell coming from the ghost and even when it stopped suddenly she didn't look up as it echoed throughout the plain of existance she was currently in.........It was like a weight was suddenly lifted from her chest and the heavy feeling of being small went away, as did the feeling of indemping doom and fright...She blinked utterly confused...and dared to look confused back over her shoulder. The....snake shadow...thing was a little ways from her facing away and having his back towards her having a moment it seemed. She guessed whatever was considered his back(she was also guessing it was male by the voice) was facing her and it's tail and two arms was sprawled on the dark purple ground holding it up as it seemed to heave and make raspy breaths. Snatcher's mind went absolutely blank and his noodle arms shook every few seconds as he gathered himself from the sudden flashback he didn't expect. Poppy gazed at him breaths heaving before looking around this strange purple place, looked as it it was some sick purple snowglobe. And began to back awa- Poppy stopped. Literally stopped as her back made contact with some kind of invisible wall she couldn't see as she tapped the palm of her hand against it a few times. Still glancing at the giant purple creature to her rig-

"You can't get out," he rasped out. Poppy jumped whirling back around to her captor as Snatcher still stared down at the purple dirt. Eyes narrowing and a frown coming over his face but he still didn't look at the petrified girl. "...WHO are you and why are you in my forest?"

Poppy's mouth was already open in fear, but at this ...thing speaking to her in her own language..Well. It was that shock that drove away the shock from being scared and make her blink at the giant thing. Only one thing could escape her mouth and she didn't mean to say it either. "Why?"

....The thing's head raised to twist around to her with that fed up expression and she shut up again. "I ask the pecking questions here fool! And I won't repeat myself either so you better fess up before I change my mind. And trust me when I say no one likes that."

She gave a shutter and curled her knees up hugging her arms. "I-I....I don't know-"

"That's NOT an answer. You got here and I want to know HOW and NOW!!" His voice shook the empty space and she ....well she scowled back at him temper at the back of her mind started to flare up a wee bit from all she's been through.

"I said I don't know! I don't know where I am and the only way I got here is by crash landing from space and falling into from rotting wood! You pecking purple jack-o-lanturn worm!!" If he was going to be her doom then so be it! She had nothing to gain or lose.

The thing seemed to almost flinch and a brief moment of surprise flashed across his face before the scowl came back. Thick country accent sounded like her- "How did you get in space?", he asked getting up and floating again staring down at her. He was easily sixteen feet.

Her brow rose. "I was rescued by a little girl-''

"Hattie," Snatcher mutter gazing off in thought. ...Woman in an apron. Those eyes snapped back to her. "What. Is. Your. Name?"

"......Poppy."

He flinched back eyes widening.....before a hum escaped him and he just...stared at her for a good long time. Neither said anything as they stared silently at each other and Poppy felt as though he was suddenly her every feature right down to staring into her very soul. And he might as well with what he mentioned earlier. Her blue eyes widened again when he floated forward, herself straining against the invisible wall as the purple reality slowly disappeared back into the foggy forest of dead trees and fog-

"Oof!"

The wall suddenly disappeared and had her landing on her back and looking up at the thing as it loomed over her again, this time reaching down and picking her up by the back of her dress and once again she was magically back in the air suspended by his arm. She got a good look up close of his face with was human-like in shape and what looked to be hair on his head and a sorta like lion mane of more purple hair around his neck and shoulders. Those narrowed eyes stared at her suspended messy self another glance before he hummed again.

"You and I are in for a very long talk to catch up."

[anastasiaskarsgard]

Did Roman and Haley ever have any happy times?

Perfect

Being a CEO of a multi billion dollar corporation at eighteen, left a lot to be desired. He’d only been in charge for a few months, but between work, and being a father he felt like he was on his way to a nervous breakdown.

What he was doing walking through a park, when he should be getting his ass to work, was anyone’s guess, but something made him pull over and go to “their” tree.

(Flashback)

“Hey rich boy! My mom said that your daddy rather be dead than married to your mom!” A short round little boy with red hair and snagged teeth yelled at the tall lone boy.

“I bet he killed himself cuz you’re such a loser!” A blonde friend of the red head snarled. Two more boys Behind them laughed loudly.

The beautiful tall boy just ignored them kicking the dirt under his expensive shoes. Although he couldn’t be more than 9 or 10 he carried himself like someone that had seen far more in his life than his years should allow.

“HEY!!!” A high pitched voice took them all by surprise.

Roman (that was the beautiful boys name) looked up to see a beautiful, slightly dirty girl about his age. with golden pigtails that were crooked, yet still framed her delicate face, and big blue eyes, she was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. She looked furious, and Roman secretly prayed she wasn’t mad at him. He’d never admit to being scared of a girl, but this girl made him feel uncharacteristically nervous.

“Oh man! Tell your bratty cousin to go away,” the red haired boy moaned.

“EXCUSE ME? Bratty? Brat-ty? You’re gonna pay!” With that, she grabbed a fallen branch that was long and wispy and started to mercilessly whip the red haired boy with it.

“Mike! Matt! Control her or I’ll -“ the boy yelled in between whacks.

Mike and Matt looked at one another and then ran away laughing, leaving their friend to deal with the crazy girl.

The blonde boy lurched forward to grab the girl but was blocked by Roman. “Mind your business rich boy!” He yelled before landing a punch square on Romans jaw, dazing him a bit.

“Run! Let’s ditch these freaks!” The blonde yelled and the two boys took off together, not once looking back.

Roman rubbed his face and turned to leave but then felt a small hand gently grab his arm. “You ok? Let me take a look at you. My mommy is a nurse!”

Roman stared wide eyed at the girl, but didn’t fight her efforts. He watched her as she examined him from different angles, noting how her pigtails swayed with every move of her head. She gently ran her fingers over the already swelling lump and winced when he fliched.

“Open your mouth and close it.” She instructed.

He obliged her and was rewarded with her dimpled smile. “It isn’t anything permanent. You’ll be ok.”

“Are you really related to the twins?” He asked distastefully.

“My aunt married their dad yesterday. That’s why we are in town so I guess I’m related to them now. They’re all jerks, I heard what they said to you. My daddy died too”

“I bet not on purpose like mine tho.”

“Mommy said it was an accident, but he died of too much medicine and he was a doctor.”

“That seems weird. Maybe he was bad at it.” Roman tried to reassure her. Comforting anyone besides his sister was strange to him.

“Do you want to be my friend? I’m Hailey. They named a comet after me!” She giggled, dancing around.

She was magnetic. He couldn’t take his eyes off her as she spun and twirled to a song only she could here. Although it was far more silly behavior than he was used to, it was refreshing. In a world as dark as Romans, it wasn’t often he found a source of light besides Shelly. But that realization made him worry his darkness would extinguish her light.

“I’m Roman and nobody is friends with me. You don’t wanna get made fun of.” He said forlornly. He liked this girl very much, but didn’t want to see her get picked on because of him. He expected her to leave, but she surprised him again.

“Nonsense! We’re a team you and I!” She sang, grabbing his hand and running to nowhere in particular. He couldn’t do anything but follow.

She smiled back at him and he couldn’t help but smile back. He knew his nanny would be mad he’d run off, but he wanted to spend all the time he could with this strange girl. They ran till they were out of breath, and then fell into the grass, rolling down a small hill. He got up and tried to brush off his clothes without much success. He wasn’t supposed to ever get dirty.

Still giggling, Hailey picked some flowers nearby and made a crown, before marching over, and placing it on his head. “There, now you’re king and no one can be mean to you ever again!”

Roman smiled for the umpteenth time since he’d met this strange girl, and took the crown off, and placed it on her head, “if I’m king, then you’re my queen and my queen will always have the best of everything.”

She laughed and then pecked him on the cheek before running away yelling, “tag you’re it.”

Just then his nanny marched into view “Roman Godfrey! What on earth are you doing over here with this urchin girl?” She said looking down at Hailey with distaste. “What would your mother think if she saw you with some dirty little girl, laughing and carrying on?”

Roman’s blood boiled. “Apologize to her right now!” He yelled.

“Excuse me? I never-“

“Apologize to my friend Hailey or I will tell my mother whatever I need to say, to make her make sure I get another nanny.” He bit out.

The older woman looked unsure as her eyes snapped between the two juveniles in front of her, trying to decide what action to take. Her eyes met Roman’s and it was as if her mind went blank as her face lost all semblance of any emotion.

“Apologize now.” Roman growled.

Hailey watched as the woman turned toward her, walked over in front of her, dropped to her knees and begged her forgiveness. Hailey was so surprised, she didn’t know what to say. She looked over at Roman in embarrassment, but forgot her predicament completely when she noticed blood falling from his nose.

“Oh my God Roman! You’re bleeding! What happened?” She panicked running over to him, unsure of what to do.

“I don’t know, i got this terrible pain in my head and it just started to bleed,” he said helplessly, with nothing on hand to curb the bleeding.

“I have an idea,” Hailey cried out as she sat down and removed her shoe and sock. “Here use my sock, it’s better than nothing.”

He hesitantly took the sock from her outstretched hand and pressed it against his nose. He was surprised to not smell any foul odor. He didn’t want to think about what he was doing though so he checked on his nanny, who was still on her knees, staring dumbly off into the distance.

“Well I better go back, I was only supposed to be getting Matt and mike for dinner so they’re probably wondering where I am.” She looked down at the ground sadly, not yet leaving, but seemingly out of words.

“Will you be here tomorrow?” Roman asked hopefully. “I mean I owe you a pair of socks.”

Hailey smiled, and tapped her finger on her lip thoughtfully, “well then I better make sure I’m here to collect.” She waved goodbye and then ran the direction the twins had gone.

(End flashback)

That had been the happiest time in his life. They had spent everyday together, exploring and going on adventures. Roman was kind of figuring out he could make the nanny do whatever he wanted, and eventhough the pain he felt when he pushed her to do as he pleased, Hailey made it all worthwhile.

Then one day she was gone. The twins would only tell him that her mother and her had moved away and were never coming back. Even when Roman tried the eyes trick, they had no answers. They honestly had no idea where they’d gone, and said her mother had fought with their stepmom and stormed out in the middle of the night.

Now here he was, nearly eight years later, standing by that same tree unable to forget that girl. For whatever reason, he’d never forgotten her and eventhough he’d since had just about any woman he wanted, none of them made him miss her less.

He had a reputation as a man whore and he supposed it was probably true but fucking all those women and then casting them aside, was never his intention. On the contrary, he actually was just looking for that feeling he’d felt when Hailey had taken his hand, and run off with him. But instead of feeling completely happy, he felt like he had betrayed Hailey, and he was disgusted with himself and whatever girl was not Hailey. He was insane!

Wasn’t he?

He chuckled as he felt the first few rain drops fall, marvelling at the whole situation, wondering who was in charge of his destiny. Whoever they were, they’re Terrible at it, he decided as he turned around to get back to his truck before the sky opened up. It was bad enough he was late, he didn’t want to be soaking wet as well.

Then he saw her and he froze. Eventhough they had changed and grown in nearly a decade, he knew without a doubt, Hailey was standing before him. He desperately wanted to say something, and honestly was a bit taken aback by his sudden case of cat-got-your-tongue, so he forced out exactly what he was thinking. He took a deep breath. Then another, trying to get his composure back. He appeared far more cool than he felt. He tried to speak again.

“Hailey I’ve missed you everyday,” he stated in a confident clear voice, that sounded far too human. Far too vulnerable for his liking. He mentally slapped himself, but he couldn’t look away from her. He felt that magnetic pull, except it was so strong, it was almost painful. He’d never wanted anything more in his life than he wanted this girl, and dammit Roman Godfrey got whatever he put his mind to.

She blushed the most beautiful shade of pink, and he nearly giggled with glee when those dimples appeared as she smiled warmly at him.

“Do you want to go somewhere? We’re gonna catch our death standing here in the rain I think.” She teased.

He had completely forgot it was raining, unable to see or feel anything beyond her presence. Feeling like a complete idiot, he grabbed her hand like she had done so many years ago, and jogged over to his waiting vehicle. Opening her door first, he helped her inside, and then ran around to his side.

He started the truck and turned on the heat for her, feeling suddenly very self conscious and almost shy. Roman Godfrey never felt self conscious but he wanted to impress her so badly, and was so pleased she was actually sitting in his truck, he was beside himself. He decided he must be in shock. But do people that are in shock, know they are in shock? He wasn’t sure and when he looked over at her, he realized she’d asked him something and was waiting expectantly for an answer. Several moments passed, and she rolled her eyes and smiled, grabbing his hand and making him jump.

“Are you okay? Roman right? You must be him. I google you now and then. The twins won’t ever tell me anything about you. They’re such assholes.” Suddenly she slapped the hand not holding his hand over her mouth. “Oh my God, you probably think I’m like a stalker now...”

Roman chuckled, and reached over pulling her hand away from her mouth. “Don’t hide your face from me, you’re beautiful. And if you want to stalk me, I can have my assistant send you my schedule. Do you have a cell phone?”

“No. I don’t really have anything. I-“ she paused, frowning as whatever she had to say, seemed to be stuck in her throat.

Sensing her discomfort, he pressed forward, “how long are you visiting? Please don’t tell me you’re leaving soon.”

“Well I can tell you that much. I’m NOT leaving anytime soon. My mother died in a fire. Our house burned down while I was staying at a friends house and I guess she didn’t wake up or wasn’t able to get out. Now I have to live with my only family that’s willing to take me, eventhough there’s far too many people in that house already. I am thankful for Aunt Peggy though, she is such a nice lady. Her kids are all jerks but maybe they’ll warm up to me. I don’t know.” She continued. “I start school on Monday, and I have been out looking for a job today since I have nothing and I don’t want to put them out anymore than I already am.”

She looked at him nervously, and tried for a weak smile, but he could see the unshed tears threatening to spill.

Roman had to fight from smiling with every ounce of self control he had. He was elated. She was not leaving, her mother was out of the way, her remaining family couldn’t really accommodate her, she had nothing and no one. She needed him.

This. Was. Perfect.

He had to play it right though. He didn’t want to scare her off now that she was back. She was his. She might not know it yet, but she would be his, and his only. He felt the most violently possessive flash through him at the thought of anyone else with her. He would protect her and keep her safe from everyone and everything.

“Remember when you made me that flower crown, and then you gave me your sock?” He asked her smiling seductively at her.

She chuckled like a little song and blushed again. “Yes! I had no idea you were the kid that owned the whole town!”

“It was sweet of you and now I’m going to return the favor. I still owe you a pair of socks, and add like 8 years of interest on top and by God you’ve got yourself a pretty decent wardrobe.”

Her eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open. “Oh no Roman! You don’t have to buy me anything! I’m just happy to have found you again. I’ll make do.”

“I don’t like owing people, and you just went through so much. Please let me get you at least a few things for school. Few outfits, some shoes, a few bags, nothing major. I’m a billionaire so I can afford it and nothing would make me happier than to help.” He made a pouty face and playfully put his hands together like he was praying.

She beamed up at him and before he knew it she was on top of him, hugging him tightly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She repeated against his chest, nuzzling into him as she unconsciously crawled completely in his lap, not once letting go.

She began to shudder a bit and he realized she was crying. He didn’t say anything, he just rubbed her back and held her while she got it out of her system. He smiled into her hair, and realized she smelled like lavender.

He loved the smell of lavender.

She was perfect.

[johnny-and-dora]

like a comet pulled from orbit

"She files the memory away in the new mental folder she’s been curating since last night, affectionately labelled ‘HUGE, RIDICULOUSLY OBVIOUS CLUES THAT JAKE IS YOUR SOULMATE’, and shifts her attention back to him."

or, a soulmate au where jake's known for his whole life & amy's known since yesterday, with two grand heartfelt speeches for good measure. 

read on ao3

-

before we begin: this one-shot takes place in a universe where your soulmates name is written somewhere on you in their handwriting, except jake's handwriting is so goddamn unreadable that amy manages to make it all the way to five years at the nine-nine without realising that her soulmate has been sat across from her this entire time. shenanigans ensue, and this is result. i hope you enjoy!

thank you to @startofamoment & @amyscascadingtabs for their wonderful endless support and to @elsaclack because i haven’t stopped thinking about this au since she posted hers <3

-

“I had this great big plan, y’know.” He says, deliberately averting her gaze – Amy furrows her brow, adjusting her slumped over position on his old, beat up couch, discards the cushion she’s been hugging to her stomach as some kind of makeshift anchor.

The maelstrom of confusion, anger and pure, unadulterated anxiety that has been rearing its ugly head deep in her gut since yesterday has quietly subsided in the intimate setting of his crappy, cozy, lowly lit Cobblestank apartment – she supposes that’s why she’s here, seeing as she wasn’t able to come up with a valid reason on the drive over, or even in the ten minutes she spent standing outside his door, poised ready to knock.

If there’s anyone who always knows exactly how to calm her down, it’s frustratingly, somehow, him.

(“Detective’s intuition, Santiago.” He’d winked, a lifetime ago when she’d once asked - handed her coffee after making her laugh for the first time in about three days, and she’d pretended to be impressed by his use of the word ‘intuition’.)

She files the memory away in the new mental folder she’s been curating since last night, affectionately labelled ‘HUGE, RIDICULOUSLY OBVIOUS CLUES THAT JAKE IS YOUR SOULMATE’, and shifts her attention back to him.

“What?”

“For telling you. I’d, um, been working on it for a while.” Jake’s hands are clenched and his leg is jostling up and down at a hundred miles an hour when it clicks, and she feels her heart skip a beat.

In truth, he doesn’t need to say anything – he’s apologised probably at least twenty times in the past day, most of them in the eight minutes that have passed since she arrived unannounced, unexpected really to the both of them, at his door. God knows he’s probably forgiven already if her heart has any say in the matter, even if she’s reluctant to tell him that.

But here he suddenly is, practically ablaze with all this brilliant, blinding energy, willing to put his heart out on the line for her – and Amy feels any semblance of protest quickly die in her throat.

“Yeah?” She prompts, gentle enough for it to be vaguely unfamiliar territory compared to their usual rapport. Her hand ghosts over his like an unspoken question before their fingers, almost by design, interweave.

It’s not intimate, exactly, barely even romantic - but he squeezes gently, once, twice, and something in the air shifts.

“I…I was gonna take you to the roof. Our roof, I mean, the roof.” He braves a fleeting glance at her and she tilts her head up to firmly hold it – there’s trepidation and question reflected in his eyes, but there’s also such reverence there, something so powerful that Amy can scarcely remember how to breathe.

The corner of his mouth immediately twitches upwards at the flush of her face, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to her, and she fights the urge to roll her eyes.

“…I was going to give this grand heartfelt speech where I basically confess my undying love for you, and tell you that we’re soulmates, and then beg you to not kill me for not telling you sooner. And then you were, er, going to forgive me and we would kiss and then ride off into the sunset.” He’s smiling fully now, all the radiance of the goddamn sun as per usual, and she can’t help but tease him.

“Ride off into the sunset?”

“Yeah, like the end of every old romantic movie ever.” He makes a sweeping, dismissive gesture with his free hand. “And everything was gonna be, y’know. Okay.” His voice falters, trips up a bit on the last word – his hand slips out of hers as they’re reminded of the mess – okay, shitstorm, that they’ve found themselves entangled up in.

Anxiety churns in her stomach as she agonises over how she’s supposed to feel – it was anger yesterday, but that feels wrong here. There’s just confusion and uncertainty and yes, desire, achingly inevitable desire; she has no idea what to act upon, no how-to-guide, no forum thread for “so your best friend has been secretly your soulmate this whole time.” (She checked). Amy has no idea what to do.

All because of the stupid universe and it’s stupid cosmic matchmaking - something she didn’t even know if she believed in until a few hours ago, something she’s been decidedly against for almost three decades.

All she is certain of now is that whatever choice lead her here, whatever lead her to him, is the one and only decision she’s allowing the universe to make for her.

(Despite whatever thread of fate they both followed to end up here, Amy maintains that what she says next - and the perfectly ordinary miracle that happens after - happens completely of her own volition.)

“Do the speech.”

“Uh, what?”

“I want to hear it. This grand heartfelt speech.” She says, taking far too much enjoyment out of the sheer panic that instantly flashes across his face.

“Uh, well, it was more of an abstract concept. And I haven’t actually practised anywhere other than the shower, and a lot of it was tied in to the whole roof thing so I don’t actually know if it’ll work here-“

“Do the speech, Peralta.”

“Okay. Okay. Here we go.” He holds a hand up in mock surrender, takes a deep breath, lets his fingers drum absentmindedly on the arm of the couch before he shifts his position to face her.

She crosses her arms expectantly, trying to subdue her smile or at least dial it down a few notches so she doesn’t give away just how hopelessly into him she really is.

“Amy. Santiago. Amy Santiago. The woman I am speaking to, right now.”

“Stop stalling.”

“Okay. So, you’re probably wondering why I brought you to this random rooftop in the middle of Brooklyn.” He grins like the little shit he is, and she resolves with ironclad determination not to let him get away that easily. “And this is where you say ‘Yes, I am, Jake, and I must say how handsome you look today.’”

“This is not a call and response thing.” Amy says, in the authoritative tone she reserves for him – he gives her a playful salute in response. It’s standard practise, familiar, and for a moment she wonders if that’s all she’s ever going to get.

“Noted. And I would say “’Thank you Amy, but this isn’t about me. It’s actually about us.’” His grin falters a little, now - she unfolds her arms, allowing him the time and space to say what he needs to, gently encouraging him to continue.

“I really like you. Like, really really like you. Like, I’m obsessed with how shiny your hair is and the way you scrunch up your nose when you’re annoyed and the way your eyes get all big and excited whenever you figure something out. You’re brilliant and beautiful and I’ve basically spent the last five years we’ve known each other trying to work up the courage to tell you that.”

He’s rambling at a pace she’s spent the last few years tripping over herself trying to catch up to - but she drinks every single word in anyway, like she’s scrambling for an oasis in the empty, unforgiving sands of a desert. 

This is new; Amy can feel her resolve practically melting away, like he’s stripping down every last layer of her defences.

Like Monopoly and getting more felony arrests than her, he’s irritatingly good at it.

“And this is where I would ask you out, except you would probably say no, not because you’re not hopelessly in love with me – but because we’re not cosmically bound together or whatever.” He swallows thickly, clearly nervous, and she inches closer to him with protective instinct, hand finding its way to the small of his back.

“And I would say yeah, that’s fair, except maybe actually it might be my unintelligible handwriting that you have scrawled on your ribcage, and that I’m really sorry about all the inconvenience that has caused you.”

“And then I would say…Amy, we are soulmates. And I’ve known that for a really long time, and I’m a huge gigantic idiot for not telling you sooner. I was just…scared. By the time I realised that you just couldn’t tell it was me, you were already yelling at me for spilling orange soda on your arrest report and I just…figured you’d rather not know.”

Her heart fragments and splints a little at that, enough for any remaining anger or notions of injustice raging in the depths of her gut to be very easily extinguished.

“Jake…”

“Nah, you said it wasn’t a call and response thing, remember?” He tries to say it lightly but the usual humour colouring his voice is notably absent, so he just takes a deep breath and continues, seemingly (how can he be?) unaware of how she is certain that her heart is somehow his.

“Anyway, I was terrified that if you found out you were just going to be…disappointed. And I know it’s not the same, but I just kept thinking about my dad leaving and how I was so scared that you’d leave too, if you knew.”

Amy recalls a stakeout from a year or so ago, an impassioned exchange of fuck you, universe between sips of coffee because she’s powerless to find hers and his dad left anyway, so what’s the point, and it makes sense – as much as she wants to strangle him for not telling her then, it makes sense.

“It just got more and more difficult to bring up, y’know? Like, by the way, we’re soulmates, can you pass me that case file?” She nods in understanding, empathy twisting in her chest against her steadily increasing heart rate – when he finally looks at her again, it’s overpowering, like everything in the air is charged, magnified, primed ready to explode.

“The thing is, I’m…I’m really into you.” He pauses, allowing the tiniest, almost shy smile to cross his face, and pure, unadulterated affection flutters in her chest. “And I would really love it if we could…y’know. But you needed to know this first – actually, I guess, you needed to know this a long time ago.” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, shame flickering in his features.

“I guess I just want you to know that I’m really, genuinely sorry. And I know you don’t know how to feel about soulmates, and I get it if you don’t feel the same about me but…I think we could have something really amazing. The end.”

There’s a beat or two of horrible, horrible silence before she remembers that she’s meant to say something back - in her defence, it was a very good speech.

“…You didn’t beg me not to kill you.” She teases lightly, but lets her face soften when she clocks his questioning gaze and realises he needs more, of course, infinitely more. “That was…very nice.”

Nice couldn’t even begin to do it justice, but in the moment she doesn’t have the words to convey how much it means, suddenly shy, suddenly woefully unprepared in the face of such unexpected openness and vulnerability. He’s never going to stop surprising her.

“…Would it have worked?”

“I think…at first, I would have been pretty mad at you. Like I think choosing the roof was a risk, if a very sweet gesture, because I might’ve thrown you off it.” His face crumples a little and she winces, not meaning to cause him any more emotional turmoil than she apparently unknowingly has for the last four years.

Really, when she visualises the scene, she has no idea how she would actually react – all she knows is now, the feeling of a spark lighting inside her and also vaguely the feeling of her insides turning upside down. 

She fights the urge to ask for fifteen minutes with her laptop so she can at least outline all she wants to say.

“But…I would also know that you meant it. That you meant all of it, and that you didn’t mean for this all to become the huge gigantic mess that it is.” She gestures widely and openly to signify the huge gigantic mess, and his eyebrows quirk up with endearment.

“So I would forgive you.” She says it with certainty she didn’t know she had until she tripped over it on her tongue – it hangs in the air, somehow unfinished, and she feels a smile blossom over her face as she brushes her shoulder up against his; she holds his gaze for a second before continuing.

“…And then I would probably kiss you.” Amy tries to say it with some boldness, at least – she counts at least fifty different emotions flicker across his face at once before they form an almost smug grin, which makes her laugh enough to almost distract her from the swarm of butterflies currently occupying her stomach.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Probably. If you weren’t dangling from the roof at this point.” She grins and he laughs a little, shaking his head, and then-

And then, silence. Tantalising, breathless silence, silence that’s impossibly alive with endless, infinite potential, brooding like a thunderstorm. When she’s brave enough to look at him he’s staring at her with such heat it feels like she might spontaneously combust, right here in his living room. She bites her lip, barely aware of anything other than blood faintly pumping in her ears.

“Amy?”

“Mmm?”

“Can we…can we stop talking in hypotheticals for a second and can I say that I’m sorry and can you forgive me and then maybe can we kiss?” They’re so close now, intimate enough that she can almost feel the hitch in his breath as he nervously poses the question.

“I’ll think about it.” She’s using the last of her bravado, the very last dredges of her willpower not to lean over and kiss him – except his eyes keep darting down to her lips and she can practically feel her skin bristling, practically incandescent with white-hot desire as she tucks her hair behind her ears and they’ve suffered enough, haven’t they?

So when he leans to tentatively a kiss to her lips she instantly deepens it, overwhelmed by the intense, rapid rhythms of her pulse at his touch, at his hands sweeping down her spine and hers in his hair and wow. It’s fervent and almost desperate at first but soon slows to tenderness as they both seem to realise that they have all the time in the world.

She feels him smile against her lips in the moment before they break apart and she dares him to ruin the moment with a ridiculous joke, but all he does is expel a sigh of relief, like a man deprived of oxygen for months. She knows the feeling.

“Wow.” She murmurs, lightheaded, forehead pressed against his, eyes still closed. When they finally flutter open to meet with his it’s frustratingly clear that they were made to do this; the part of her that’s been resolutely against the universe pairing people together for the best part of thirty years is disgruntled to be proved wrong so swiftly and effortlessly.

But mostly, she’s happy. The way that Jake looks at her makes her feel treasured and desired and revered in a way that no-one else ever has, and she is so ridiculously, unbelievably, deliriously happy.

“You. You are just…you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.” It’s barely a whisper but it sets her alight – he’s breathless, tone dripping with pure, unbridled sincerity, and it’s enough.

He’s forgiven, because of course he is – really, he was forgiven long before she stepped past the threshold of his apartment, but she’s not going to be the one to tell him that if he’s going to kiss her like that and say lines like that afterwards.

She wants to say something, anything moderately affirming or even just coherent back, but for the first time in a very long time, Amy Santiago is rendered completely and utterly speechless.

So instead, she just kisses him again.

***

She gets around to telling him later, when the initial rush of adrenaline has faded into quiet embers of content joy and she can finally string a semi-coherent sentence together. Amy can’t really tell how much time has passed since, only that it is later, later, later, that moonlight is spilling through the gap in his curtains in the same way that dusty orange twilight was when she first arrived here, and yet she has absolutely no desire to leave.

Her soft grey linen hoodie lies on the arm of the couch and his left sock is discarded on the floor from when she’d traced her name etched in perfect, neat cursive just above his ankle and he’d quipped some line about finally being able to wear flip flops to work again without fear of discovery.

They’ve been talking, mostly, laughing in a way that is warmly familiar, even if the way their hands are intertwined isn’t – she has this wonderful feeling that it will be, in time.

“You really don’t mind that I didn’t tell you?” Jake has asked her some variant of this question roughly every ten minutes, seemingly struck by disbelief that he isn’t dangling from a roof at this very moment – it’s only now, though, that she realises she has the right to some grand speech of her own, even if she’s mildly disappointed that she can’t practise first.

Some things just can’t be planned, much to her horror – but to be fair, she never could have planned any of this, and she thinks it’s reasonable to say that it ended up all working out.  

“Well, I’m not…happy about it. Part of me definitely wishes that you’d just told me, because I absolutely had the right to know after decades of torturing myself over it.” She gives him a pointed stare that lasts almost a second before her resolve completely dissipates at his puppy-dog gaze.

“But the rest of me is actually glad I didn’t know.” His eyebrows shoot up in almost comic confusion, and she laughs lightly, joy practically bubbling in her chest. She puts a hand over his heart and takes the time to choose her next words carefully, delicately, in a way that she hopes will tell him that she really means them.

“Well, the way I see it….this way I get to choose you. This way, I get to be with you because you’re brilliant, and sweet, and you make me laugh. Not just because your name is written in appallingly bad handwriting on my ribcage.”

“Huh. I guess I never really thought about it like that.” He goes somewhere else for a second; there’s that thoughtful far-away look where she can practically see seventeen different trains of thought pinging off his brain like a cell tower. 

When he focuses back on her it’s with unbridled affection as if he’s only just realising all the nice things she said about him, and she smiles.

“Yeah, well…I’ve been thinking about this a lot, lately. And I guess…I choose you. Not because I feel like I should, or because the universe tells me I’m supposed to. Because I want to. Because I know that you’re the right person for me.” Amy’s not sure she’s ever said anything with more conviction in her life  – the momentum behind her words absolutely terrifies her, but it’s thrilling too, feeling this much for one person all at once.

He’s quiet, for once – by the low light of his cheap lamp, she might even be able to make out the ghost of blush lightly colouring his face, and she thinks, point to Santiago. Not that she’s keeping score. (They’re even.)

“Only you would find a way to argue for free will even after all this. You are unbelievable.” The last word is said in a tone of complete and utter awe and admiration that it sweeps her off her feet – she reaches out to cup his face and press a long, drawn-out lazy kiss to his lips that feels so natural it’s like they’ve been doing this for years. He starts to press kisses that trace down her neck and collarbone, easily shifting her entire world on its axis; it’s dizzying.

Amy’s so, unbelievably glad that if she was going to fall for anyone, it had to be her soulmate – and yet, she somehow feels sure that that this was always going to happen anyway, regardless of whatever name she had inked on her skin.

In this life and any other, she was always going to choose him.

“I choose you too, by the way.” He mumbles, a little breathless, looking up at her like she’s the only thing that matters. “I just thought that was implied.”

She says a begrudging, silent thank you to the universe – in the moonlit sky pouring through the crack in the curtains, the stars catch a glimpse of them and smile.

[semblanche]

amuse me with egg and eve PLEASEEE

Leave a “Amuse Me” in my ask, and I will write a funny drabble about one character trying to cheer another up.

-

"I can do a handstand," Egg says, and it's so out of place Eve actually stops what she's doing for a second to stare at him.

"What?"

Egg fidgets. He's here with her lunch as usual, a lukewarm bowl of soup and a grilled cheese sandwich that's falling apart on its plate, but there's something strange behind his eyes. A certain glint Eve thinks she remembers from somewhere, but that's been too long for her to put a name to.

"I can do a handstand," he repeats, and sets the tray on her desk eagerly. "It's not great, but I can usually manage it okay if my feet are up against a wall. I can show you right now if you want."

Eve stares at him. "Why would I want to see you do a handstand?"

Egg deflates a bit. The glint in his eyes winks at her. "I ... "

"Don't know."

"Yeah."

"I'll let you figure that out, then."

It's a clear dismissal, but Egg doesn't leave. The glint in his eyes swells like a bruise, and he smiles at her, a bit too unhinged for her liking.

"What are you working on?" he chirps, and the next thing Eve knows he's leaning over her shoulder, chin propped up like she's an arm rest. She shrugs him off angrily, pulls her papers - her plans - to her chest.

"Since when do you care?"

"I don't," Egg says cheerily, and then, seeing Eve's deadpan look, quickly amends: "I mean, I don't .. not care."

"Whatever." Eve waves her papers at him, a moth's wings of pen and pencil and so many crossed out lines. "You can go now."

Egg nods, shrinks away like a kicked puppy. The glint in his eyes has swollen even further, has covered the dark blue hues with a thick sheen of silver. He makes as if to leave, and then stops, fiddling with his hands and looking around the study like it's his first time visiting. Eve raises her eyebrows, more at herself than him.

It's not like Egg to ignore a direct statement.

"You know," he suddenly blurts, and Eve is really starting to wonder if he's okay, "I know a lot of knock knock jokes."

What the fuck.

"Most of them are pretty good. I used to say them a lot, and people would laugh, not in the fake way but that belly one that means they actually found them funny, you know?" Egg mimes what he undoubtedly thinks is a belly laugh, but sounds more like a frog taking on the role of Santa Claus for the first time. "So if you ever wanna hear one -" He jabs two thumbs towards his chest "- I'm your guy."

Eve blinks at him. She's not sure what else to do. Her soup is getting cold, her eyes are starting to hurt, and she's already half forgotten what she was meaning to write on her piece of paper.

She studies Egg. Carefully. You can't go so long with someone without picking up some basic "shoulds" and "should nots" in their appearance or behavior, and her and Egg aren't just anyone either. As far as she's concerned, he's already not ticking the "should" box in behavior - maybe appearance will lend some hints.

Egg's hair is tousled, fluffy blond curls springing in all directions. Is it a little more messy than usual? A bit more unwashed? It's hard to say. His skin is clean, at least - no signs of scrapes or scuffles on his arms or legs. His nails are free from the usual blood under them, and his lips, now pulled into a wide, frantic grin, reveal teeth more like fangs. Still clean.

Egg looks fine. He should be fine.

But his eyes -

Oh.

His eyes remind her of the first time they met.

The memory hits Eve like a punch to the stomach, doubling her mind over and finally - finally - shaking the dust off her doubts.

That's where she knows this look from. That's where she saw Egg first wear it - that first time at her door step, a scrap past 13, all wide smiles and pleas disguised as pleasantries. Shaking hands and whispering bargains - "Come back when you've found a way to make yourself useful," she'd said, one hand already barring him entry. And then he had, and she'd had no choice.

Oh.

That look - it's desperation.

And Eve hates it, knows it, better than anything else in the world.

Egg is still rambling, more to himself than her - something more about knock knock jokes, about hula hoops, about puns. She watches as his eyes pin her like a butterfly to the wall, trace her every movement almost hungrily.

For the first time, it dawns on her that she hasn't actually talked to Egg in a while.

"Tell me what the matter is," she says, cutting off Egg in the middle of some juggle related spiel. "And make it quick. I have work."

It's a cruel way to handle it, but it works. It always works. Egg shuts up, and his hands fiddle with each other again, fingers twisting into and out of each other like they're trying to catch himself in their nets.

"Nothing's the matter," he says, and he sounds so unconvinced Eve almost wants to laugh.

"Really? Nothing?"

"Yeah."

"Then I'm sure you'll have no problem turning around and leaving me to my work again."

Egg falters. Bites his lip. "No," he says slowly, "I think I'd have a problem with that."

Eve steeples her hands, and wills herself to go on. Pulling a confession from Egg is harder than pulling teeth sometimes. And she's had experience with both. "Is that so?"

"Yeah."

"Mind elaborating?"

"I don't think -" Egg pauses. His smile is gone now. His face seems almost empty without it. "You're not very happy lately."

Eve actually does laugh this time, a sharp sound more like a bark. "What gave it away? The missing boyfriend or the two freaks I'm hosting in my house?"

Egg considers it a second. "I think it was a mix of both."

Jesus Christ.

Eve pinches the bridge of her nose. Counts to ten. Breathes. "Just tell me what the matter is, Egg. I do have work to get back to."

"Nothing's the matter," Egg insists. And then, just as Eve's ready to snap for good and put his head through the wall - "with me. I just. I dunno. I'm worried for what's the matter with you."

And just like that, Eve is back to staring.

"With me?" she repeats. Dumb founded. "What's the matter with me?"

Egg shrugs. His eyes have lost some of the glint now, have kept it in streaks that dash his pupils like comets. "I don't know. You just - You don't leave your study, and then, if you do, you don't tell me where you go, and I know it's not my business and I don't care but I guess I do kind of care is what I'm getting at and I'm worried. And I miss you."

The last part is spoken in a matter of breaths, confession tumbling out with no pauses, no dots. Eve has to take a minute to decode it, piece together the words and force the others apart. And then she goes back to being dumb founded.

She wants to say something. Anything. Something important that'll leave an imprint in Egg's mind forever, that tells him how much those words mean and how little she can let them mean all at once.

She's worried about Ben, that's true. That's the only truth in this hell of a world she can count on. People are born, people die, and she's worried about Ben. But she hadn't considered that maybe others - maybe Egg - were worried about her. And that maybe they deserve to feel that too.

She regards the boy across from her with a look she doesn't think she's ever worn before. Egg stares back. Grey meets blue, and for the first time, loses.

Eve puts her papers down. Egg's eyes follow her as she does.

"Alright then," she says. "You've got an hour. Hit me with your best handstand."