#Even if she still vastly prefers her life now over what they had planned for her

[thundertide]

AND ALSO. MAYBE: Daffodil, Quince, Xanthoriza?

Flower And Tree Language Prompts!

Daffodil: Has your character ever had unrequited love for someone? Have they ever loved someone but held it in for any reason?

While Kagota would say no, there's been one - the old 'friend' who tried to end her life towards the end of her year of training. She saw him as family, loved him like a brother as well as a friend, and it's perhaps part of the reason why she ignored incredibly obvious signs that he didn't see her the same, resulting in his attack on her at the end of the mission. While it wasn't romantic, the love she held for him still haunts her as much as what she can remember of the fight and night in general, and it's not something she likes to own up to - Even to her own husband, who she's sure isn't aware of everything that went down that night.

She's been incredibly careful with the topic of 'love' since, and will only ever admit to loving her family and husband.

Quince: One temptation your character has had.

Childe- XD All jokes aside, a lot of Kagota's temptations come from her desire to change the world into the one she's working towards and effectively install herself and Childe as queen and king. You put her in a room with any harbinger not under the title of Tartaglia, and she immediately has the temptation to punch them all in the face-

Perhaps a less violent one is the often felt temptation to just... Quit. Leave the Fatui, take her husband and their families and go traveling, become an adventurer, work for herself... It's a nice thought, but it's one she can't have, and she knows it. There's too much battlelust in her, too much trauma, too much of a leash keeping her bound to the Fatui that she'll never be able to just... Up and go, especially not if she seeks to have her head remaining firmly attached to her neck. It'd be easier on her to leave and maybe she'd b able to calm down someday if she did, but so long as the Fatui and Snezhnaya itself exists? No can do.

Now as for punching the other harbingers in their faces... Just let her off her leash it'll only take a second-

Xanthoriza: What’s something your character has run away from?

Her family. Maybe not in the technical aspect - she didn't 'run away' to join the Fatui, she left home after a discussion with her parents about it - but she feels completely she ran away from things in Morepesok. Her mother had wanted her to be a housewife and stay in the village with her. Her father wanted her to work with him as a merchant and stay close to them, like she had as a child when she'd given them a hand in everything she could and even traveled with her dad on some of his business trips.

Kagota hadn't wanted any of that, and took joining the Fatui as an escape.

To her, leaving was 'running away'. What her parents wanted for her had felt overwhelming, like she had no control over her own fate, and she'd thought joining the Fatui would help her with reclaiming that - It hasn't, but it was still a means of running off from a fate chosen for her, and she's been left to wonder... If she hadn't, would she still have met back up with Childe? Would they be married now, or would she have met someone else in the village? Would she be happy?

She's... Good not knowing.

[beanghostprincess]

Usopp friendship with Mihawk had to be the funniest thing added in the OPLA, year 1 of Kuragaina goth rooming nightmare and the three of them end up bonding over Ussop of all ppl. Because Shanks shows up on a "bother Mihawk" whim and they all subconsciously decide to bully Yassop about his shitty parenting choices. Perona escorts them to the main house ranting a mile a minute about Ussop this Ussop that and how he is immune to her fruit and what that means and how that means that obviously Ussop suffers from daddy issues(only issues Ussop isn't suffering from but Yassop doesn't know that) and Yassop is already squirming but then Zoro is there. He is looming in a corner, menacingly (as much as he can anyway, he is scrawny and more bruised than an overripe apple at the bottom of the barrel) and he just gives them a flat look, murmurs smth vaguely rude about them being the deadbeat pirates(Shanks catching strays about his less than stellar parenting choices) and leaves to go train. Now everyone has caught on more or less on the Yassop bullying campaign the residents of Kuragaina have decided to embark on but they hope Mihawk is like, uninvolved. Except he isn't unaware of Ussop, no he is genuinely fond of the boy, would have vastly preferred he showed up out of nowhere because "at least Ussop seems to understand the notions of body odour and daily showering Roronoa" and while not done deliberately, he does bring up Ussop as a positive example for things like cleanliness and "not bothering people with incessant chattering and complaining Perona" (Zoro laughs at this, if only Mihawk knew). This lulls Yassop in a false sense of a security. Yeah, Mihawk is praising his son, but surely he wouldn't say anything about his parenting. So he relaxes, even feels a little proud of his boy making such a good impression, is planning on bragging to the crew about his cool as fuck son who charmed the fuck out of Mihawk after they leave and then it happens. Mihawk gets a glint in his eye and delivers the final punch: "one would think the two of you are the fatherless ones, with the way you are acting. The boy grew up with no father in his life and still behaves more dignified than both of you. To your rooms." Yassop goes back to the ship after this and sobs in his rum bottle.

HELP THIS IS HILARIOUS KWJEFBWJKEBFWKJEBFK

"The Yassop bullying campaign" being a thing is extremely funny to me. Everybody loves Usopp. Everybody is overprotective of him. Perona and him are actually besties and she kind of wishes to see him again because the second her ghosts affect him, that'll mean he's more or less fine mentally (girl is worried sick about his self-esteem). Zoro? We know Zoro loves the fuck out of him. That's his sniper. Back off. He's ready to fight Yasopp if needed, even. And you're completely right about the OPLA thing because I swear the Mihawk/Usopp friendship makes me the happiest person on earth. Mihawk has a favorite son and I won't say who he is because it's obvious. Now Yasopp is shaking with fear and regret because three people apparently hate his guts for his son and now he's extremely scared of meeting Usopp again.

[laura-de-milf]

W o w ok- the first part of the book was pretty on pace with the show but the ending went in a vastly different direction. I'm really glad I read it and enjoyed it a lot--but I'm also SO in support of the extreme changes that the show made.

Spoilery thoughts to follow:

(Like actual serious spoilers. Major plot points that differ from the show. You have been warned)

ELENA. MY BELOVED. I loved that we got her POV--and ok maybe I'm understandably biased but i often found myself counting the pages until the next Elena interlude. I actually preferred how much more backstory we had for her in the book over the show. Obviously there is the timing limitation of tv, etc. etc. and I guess they really wanted to heighten the mystery of is-she/isn't-she the bad guy so couldn't make her too sympathetic--but I found that the book was still able to keep that mystery really well even with the direct POV? We're led to believe for the first 3/4 of the book that she's working for the Russian oligarchs because even in her head she's doing The Absolute Most to play pretend for Victor, and it isn't until she casually mentions getting instruction from Washington that we're like, wait-

Brilliant. 🤌

It's a bit odd having seen the show first because I think we're often predisposed to prefer our first exposure to a story, so I don't think most of my disappointments are actual judgements of the book so much as my just having particular show moments that I would have loved to see. Like I was mildly disappointed that she didn't get to kill Viktor; it would have been especially satisfying in the book-world because of the mentor/protegée dynamic they were playing at (especially with Elena being much younger). How glorious would it have been for her not just to get the satisfaction of offing her abusive boss, but also now one-upping her extremely powerful mentor and taking that authority for herself. It felt like Viktor was also posed as a sadistic sort of father figure for her--and what a great bit of contrast it would have been for her to feel exactly what a fully intentional "killing a father" is like so she can release herself of the illogical guilt she holds re her own father's death. I suppose this wouldn't really have worked narratively though if she was just going to end up dead anyway.

Which brings me to my next devastation. It's such a small moment, but the reveal of her having escaped the bathroom at the end of the show breathed life into my decrepit form and I missed that a little.

But!! Elena being the one who killed Alex??? Queen shit. I guess I understand how they needed to change that for the show so they could make her more sympathetic for the galpal duo. (Even though it turns out the show invented the whole sympathetic aspect to Alex's story and he was straight up just stealing from investors in the book? So like, can you blame her.)

Speaking of which. I reaaaallly missed the Miranda x Cassie galpal duo that the show (it turns out) completely fabricated out of thin air. Like, yeah, I guess the book was telling a slightly different story, but damn if that whole dynamic wasn't so delicious to watch. The fact that they never really got to interact- 😔

Buckley!! What!!! I'm so bewildered that she let him go. Like I guess it turned out for the best? but still- what??? Also what happened to Elena's body and what was the fallout from that? because by Buckley's plan she (and Enrico) would have been in the room alone, which contained a dead body and every assassination tool under the sun, and Cassie had no reason to believe that he wouldn't peg her for it??? That was some wild decision-making on her part but not out of character I guess.

What the fuuuuuuuck was the epilogue. I guess on the one hand maybe it's sweet that she named the kid Masha, because Symbolism and all? But man if it doesn't fall into the disappointing trope of Women Need Children To Heal And Be Complete. And "getting a child out of an otherwise traumatic incident is a good thing actually". Also how did she know it was his? She drunk!slept with like 4 people that week. mmmmmmmm uncomfy. Thank GOODNESS they cut that for the show.

Elena. My beloved. You were done so dirty. Cassie (presumably) never even got to learn that she was coming to rescue her. Brb, gonna be sad about that for a little while.

[merakiui]

I was reading through your tags and you mentioned at some point the kazuscara roommates finding your onlyfans and I think I completely combusted—thus i present to you my brain rot of late: you attend the same school as them but you’re not actually friends, all you know about kazuha is that he’s the friendly regular at the cafe you work at, who makes polite conversation every now and then but otherwise is nothing of note. In reality he’s been stalking you for weeks ever since your first encounter, and is dead set on the idea that you’re this innocent, weak thing that needs to be protected (maybe he stepped in when you had a bad customer and your meek reply helped fester his delusions?). Scara, on the other hand, is only aware of your presence since you’re his favourite cam model that he recently found. (Since he’s a harbinger he’s probs loaded) Weeks of funnelling money towards you cause him to feel this unwarranted possessiveness, believing that since he’s been providing so much in your “relationship” that it’s time you reward him in turn. However, despite the unbridled interest they have toward you neither are aware of each other’s feelings for you— that is, until you happen to run into the both of them heading to your class. While both are known for maintaining their stoic masks, they’re friends for a reason— and instantly can tell the attraction their roommates have towards their own “lover”. After kazuha finds your onlyfans he’s certain that you’ve been coerced and wants to save you, while scara thinks it’s time that he’s stopped letting other plebeians look at his possession—so, despite their initial reservations, come together to form the ideal plan. When you find yourself waking up groggy in a room you don’t recognize, all they can do is look on with glee whilst planning their next course of action with their new belonging. They’re friends after all, and good friends share though, don’t they?

This is v long srry lol you can ignore this ofc!!

AAAH, ANON!! YES!!! <3 I couldn’t resist writing more on this concept. orz They make for such a terrifying pair when they work together!

(cw: yandere, stalking, nsfw, implied kidnapping/drugging, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, delusional thoughts, savior complex, implied violence)

What if Kazuha and Scara were just acquainted with one another and actually became closer through their mutual obsession with you? Yes, they’re roommates and ought to get along because they’re living together but they haven’t exactly clicked yet. They talk every now and then and know little things about each other. Nothing too special. They don’t really hang out outside of their dorm either, what with their class schedules being vastly different. And Kazuha’s always out of the dorm doing who-knows-what. Most of his time is spent at a café, where he’ll write and read and stare at you while you work. On the other hand, Scara prefers to stay inside if he doesn’t have a good reason to go out. He likes his alone time. Although he has enjoyed going to the library every now and then to study.

So maybe they need to find some common ground. Maybe they need a push in the right direction before they get closer.

Kazuha likes to stare. Talking to you is great, but he worries he’ll say too much and then he’ll be a nuisance, or you might not want to talk to him at all since you’re working. But you always regard him with a warm smile, happy to scribble his name on the plastic cup because you remember him. Because you recognize his familiar face and soft, gentle eyes. He’s the one who saved you from that rude customer, after all, and he’s a polite regular. Why wouldn’t you know him? You might look like you can handle those types of situations, but what Kazuha saw that day was something entirely different. You were nervous—so soft-spoken and scared. He absolutely has to protect you from those kinds of people now, doesn’t he?

And he does exactly that. He’s your second pair of eyes—your valiant knight in shining armor—who sees and hears all. Sometimes he goes to the café with the intention to simply watch over you and make sure no one’s bothering you. He can recall one time when a customer was speaking rudely about you because her drink hadn’t been prepared in a ‘timely manner.’ In reality it’s impossible to make a drink within a few seconds, especially when you’re already preoccupied with making another customer’s drink. She must’ve woken up on the wrong side of the bed, or maybe she’s just a hateful person in general. You didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of such fiery insults, though.

Her eyes just can’t see your perfection and therefore she does not deserve to see out of them.

Kazuha’s willing to wrestle with all of this darkness if it means you’ll stay safe, oblivious, and pure. You’re like a defenseless kitten, unable to protect yourself from the scary world. He writes about you a lot in his journal; you’re his muse—someone who constantly shows up in poems and short paragraphs where he tries to describe what your dream date might be or what type of wedding you’d prefer. Things get darker the deeper you delve into his writings, where you’ll find entries in great detail. Kazuha writes a lot and he doesn’t even mean to. He just has to get all of his thoughts on paper before they abandon him and he’s left with emptiness.

Everything you do is pure; you’re almost an equivalent to a holy being. Your smell is pure. Your body is pure. Your actions are pure. Your smile is pure. Even when you’re on the verge of crying from harsh customers or when you’re turning down a confession, you’re still pure. And Kazuha likes that about you because it’s special. There aren’t many people in his life who are completely pure. He’s been through a lot of rough things and has seen firsthand how impure people can be. It’s only fair that he gets a chance to protect purity itself.

He might have some impurities, but that doesn’t deter him from watching over you. As gentle and unassuming as he is, there are times when even he loses his composure. Not many are privy to these dark emotions of his. His smiles are sharp and venomous and his eyes fill with a gloom so dark it can swallow you whole. You’ll never see this side of him; he won’t allow it. Instead you’re treated to his sweet, calm side, where he feigns perfection in hopes of catching your interest.

As for Scara… He doesn’t really care about Kazuha in the beginning. He’s just someone he has to live with. It’s not a big deal and as long as he doesn’t try to make lots of pointless conversation everything will be okay. He prefers the peace and quiet, considering he’s acquainted with people who are far from peaceful and quiet. Scara’s relieved that Kazuha leaves the dorm so often because it gives him an opportunity to watch his favorite cam star’s most recent video. He’s your most loyal follower—someone who’s paid lots of money just to have access to the highest tier of rewards and such. He even got a private video where you addressed him and moaned out his name with lustful thoughts of him. Having lots of money comes in handy.

When he finds out that you go to the same school as him, he’s a little shocked. He didn’t expect you to be so close. You’re practically within touching distance. If only he knew your schedule. If only you were in one of his classes. It’s really annoying that he only knows your online presence and not who you might be in your personal life. The last thing he’s going to do is consult Childe, that popular athlete who knows literally everyone in the school for whatever reason. Surely he knows you. But he’ll die before he ever asks Childe for a favor.

Scara loves you out of every other cam model because you’re different. You’re not just trying to get fast cash. You’re genuine. You listen to your subscribers and their feedback. You do your best to improve and do even better streams than the previous ones. All of your hard work is overlooked by the other fools who watch your streams, but it isn’t overlooked by him. Scara appreciates your attention to detail and the way you’re able to hook him with your breathless voice alone. You’re very skilled at what you do, so it’s only fair you get paid for it.

But buying your services isn’t enough. It’s not a real relationship, but it certainly feels like it when he buys preferential treatment. Private shows, special requests, odd favors—you do it all because he pays for it. But this relationship isn’t going to be one-sided forever. You’ll have to pay him back in full eventually. Scara likes to think he has patience and that waiting is fine. It gives him more time to plan his next move—to figure out what he should do to finally have you all to himself. So that those private shows he watches through a screen can finally be real.

Scara finds the journal sitting innocently on Kazuha’s bed, its maroon cover and maple leaves pulling at his curiosity. He might not know everything about Kazuha, but he’d recognize this journal anywhere. His roommate almost always has it on his person. Scara wouldn’t be surprised if he slept with it. To say he’s curious would be absolutely correct. He can only wonder what Kazuha writes in that thing. Perhaps it’s just notes for a class. That’s what anyone would think, right?

Scara opens it and flips through the first few pages. They’re normal for the most part. Just a bunch of haikus and other useless scribbles. When he skips over some pages, he starts to find things that are far more interesting than poetry and doodles of cats. He finds the majority of the journal is comprised of information. More specifically, there are facts and other knowledge about you—the cam model he’s been obsessed with ever since he stumbled upon your onlyfans. He reads through as much of the journal as he can and instantly learns so much: your address, your roommate, your workplace, your friends’ names, names of any potential exes. The list goes on and on.

Scara doesn’t have anything against Kazuha. His first impression of him wasn’t anything groundbreaking. He thought he was a pushover at first. But now that he knows what this journal holds… Well, it sheds an entirely new light on his roommate.

Just days before Scara took a peek inside his journal, Kazuha discovers your secret online life. He snoops through Scara’s laptop when he steps out, having left it open and unlocked. He’s just trying to find what could have caught Scara’s interest, as he’s almost always glued to his laptop on specific days at specific times, with his headphones on and his gaze unyielding. He doesn’t intend to find the file of one of your private videos—something that was meant only for Scara’s eyes.

He clicks on the video out of interest. He’s not sure what he was expecting to see, but it definitely wasn’t this. Kazuha sits there and stares at the sight before him. You’re dressed in skimpy lingerie and you’re muttering the dirtiest things while coating your fingers in lube. And your hands are stroking a thick toy and you’re addressing Scara and you’re lining it up to your hole and— He shuts the laptop before it can get even more explicit than it already is. He’s so conflicted, fraught with a betrayal so strong it weighs his heart down.

Why would he have this sort of video on his laptop? Did you give it to him? Did he make you do this? Are you in danger? Are you still pure?

Kazuha can’t kill on campus. It’s way too risky and he’d be one of the first suspects if Scara’s body is found. Besides, it’s not like he has the full story. He doesn’t know whether or not Scara’s done something that’s worthy of death. You could just be in a tight spot. He knows how easily you give in when you’re under pressure. Maybe you’re just doing this because you feel like it’s the only thing you can do. Not to worry; Kazuha will save you before Scara can ruin your purity with his twisted fantasies.

They confront each other when the time feels right. Kazuha struggles to keep a smile plastered to his face for the sake of politeness, while Scara holds in his raging temper so that he can bear some semblance of cooperation. Neither of them is happy to hear that the other went through their stuff, but they force themselves to make up because a more pressing issue is at hand: their connection to you.

Kazuha says he’s your secret admirer. Scara says he’s in a relationship with you. There’s no way you’d ever date someone like Scara—Kazuha knows this for a fact. Yet he falters at the confidence in Scara’s tone. That can’t be the truth, right? Despite this, Kazuha still strikes up an offer: If they work together to get what they both want, they’ll be unstoppable. With Scara’s riches and his influence and Kazuha’s charisma and clever thinking, they can easily get their hands on you. Of course this means they’ll have to share, but it’s not a big deal when they’re already in so deep. They both know the other’s secret; now they’re swearing to keep it in the pursuit of having you all to themselves. And luckily Scara agrees to the deal, but that doesn’t give Kazuha a reason to lower his guard.

However despite how well they work together when it comes to planning the kidnapping and actually executing it, they both have their own reasons for wanting you. Scara wishes to make his relationship with you a reality—to toss aside the screen that once held him back and finally do all of the things he could only do in his dreams. Kazuha seeks to protect your fragile heart, lest you crumble under Scara’s intense way of doing things and cling to him for salvation. You can’t do those sorts of things with Scara; he won’t allow it. Your purity is meant for him and no one else.

But sharing is caring and some have to learn that the hard way. It definitely brings Kazuha and Scara closer together, even if neither of them will admit it. If they look past their desires, they can be friends. And soon enough they’ll have to accept this new friendship if they want to avoid any unnecessary complications.

However there are times when they’ll cooperate in order to do things with you. They’re a packaged deal you can’t get rid of.

[puredramione]

My 2020 Reading List - Dramione

This year, I’ve read way more dramione than I’ve ever read, and I’ve been reading it for 7 years now. I even read things, tropes, I had never bothered with before. 2020 may not have been a kind year, but in the dramione community it has been a wonderful year of reading for me. Please be aware I may spoil some plot lines to dramione fanfictions you haven’t read yet. I have tried not to as best as I can. But anyway below is 20 fics I’ve read this year that have been there for me when I needed them. No particular order. Just a lot of love for these fics.

Wait and Hope - by @mightbewriting - memory loss is one of my favourite tropes but this story. I have never cried over a couch before. But this story. From the moment she first awakes in St Mungo’s to that beautiful ending, I was hooked. I loved how the story left me with not really a care about whether or not Hermione got her memories back. Those bloody text messages 💔 a journey I’ll never forget.

The Unofficial Diary of an Omega - MrsRen - my first time reading anything omegaverse. It still isn’t my favourite trope. I much prefer Veela for some reason 🤷🏻‍♀️ but overall it was a good story, just not my thing.

Apple Pies and Other Amends by ToEatAPeach - I actually gave up on this story the first time I read it. Unsure as to why because the story as a whole is just amazing. Baking and dramione? Yes please! Also dealing with their psychological trauma after the war? Heck yes! The relationship in this story develops at a lovely pace. There were moments I was on edge, others I was smiling ear to ear whilst reading this. Definitely one of my favourites now.

In Search Of Sunrise - @indreamsink - actually just reread this and I still get that warm feeling in my chest. So turns out my break up hasn’t made me lose the ability to enjoy dramione falling for each other. Anyway, the story was so heartwarming, like if I were to describe it as anything I would describe it as a hug. The best non-date fic there is.

Sex and Occlumency - Graendoll - this was the start of my slippery slope into reading smut stories. Like I had read smut before, obviously but I didn’t pay it much attention, normally just swiped past 😂 but this one was a completely different story.

Manacled - @senlinyu - this is truly the most beautifully haunting story I’ve ever read. I remember when I first started reading it, I thought to myself, how the hell could I ever ship dramione in this world? Then those flashbacks. Fuck those flashback chapters were a punch in the gut. The way everything links and connects. I love it’s realistic ending. I often think of this story in the shower cause I had to force myself to go shower whilst I read this cause I honestly couldn’t put it down. And SPOILER, but I laughed so hard at a certain characters death even though I probably shouldn’t have but she was such a bitch. I get flashbacks myself of this story. I’ll be in the shower and I’ll remember a certain sentence, a certain scene in my head as if I truly walked with Hermione on this heart wrenching journey. But fuck manacled Harry, I hate that boy.

He Becomes by @abromaposts - I needed this story. This was the first thing I read after Manacled. Draco Malfoy looking after rabbits with the sole reason being to get close to Hermione, yes please. Rabbits are my favourite animals. It’s just so much fluff. And after Manacled I was grateful.

The Right Thing To Do - @lovesbitca8 - this was the bookshop, slow burn, fluffiness I needed in the summer. The start of a truly wonderful universe. Idiots in love, I’ve never went through so much second hand embarrassment. Every interaction between Hermione and Lucius was fantastic. Especially the final one! Every character was written to a way that I loved them so much. Plus this story makes you think (like the rest of the series) it doesn’t spoon fed you information.

All The Wrong Things - @lovesbitca8 - I never thought I’d be into first person POV. The last thing I read like that was The Hunger Games back in school, many years ago. But I truly felt as if Draco were telling me the story. I love how it filled in things we never seen in the first story. I love Draco’s characterisation. Unlike TRTTD, this feels more lighthearted. Could just be the horny Draco though and his dramatics?

The Auction - @lovesbitca8 - this story. where do I start? When I started reading this story I was in a completely different life. This story has seen me through a terrible time in my life. Honestly the last few chapters before the final chapter were a blur and I had to go and reread them cause my head was all over the place but the story. This story, on it’s own, I would say is better than any fiction I’ve ever read 🤷🏻‍♀️ it grips you, pulls you in. Every question you ask, you get answered with a ribbon and bow. I cannot express my love, for this story and for the hard work that has went into it. The characters in this world so vastly different yet similar to the ones we already learned to love. I could write a love letter to this story.

Hindsight by @floorcoaster - if you haven’t been following this year long, monthly updated story, then you’ve really missed out. Each chapter is a month of the year. The story starts with Hermione planning to trim down her calendar for the year ahead. Although it’s fiction it gave me a sense of hope for my future. I had started this year on a different note than Hermione, and I’m now ending it on a different note as well. I think this story does a good job of capturing the passage of time and just how quickly things can change. I also really love these adorable idiots in this story.

Bring Him To His Knees by @willhavetheirtrinkets (WIP) - the best co-worker, friends to lovers, fake relationship story I’ve read. No question. I sent @magicaltraveler3 a tearful voice memo after that last chapter that was posted (chapter 20). It isn’t the first time I’ve cried at a fanfic, but it is the first time that I predicted something bad would happen, but I didn’t expect the bad thing to be what it was. I can’t wait to see where this story goes. At this point I have completely forgot about the murder plot. I know it exists, and we’ll get back to the murder but I’d honestly read the characters in this story eating breakfast.

The Flat In Bath by @adaprix (WIP) - this was the first story I got into that ada has wrote. Instantly I was fascinated with the use of “flat” over “apartment”. Being Scottish I knew this was someone British. Anyway, a very interesting story and I can’t wait to see how the rest of it plays out.

Good by @lovesbitca8 - I am dying for the update of this story. As so many are, it is 🔥🔥🔥 all I can say. I can’t wait for the update!

The Erised Effect by @adaprix - When ada first told me she was thinking about writing a story about Pansy and Hermione working in a sex shop together. Telling me about having the idea of them meeting in the pub and how she “needed to get some filthy smut out of your system”. I didn’t think it would be my thing. Boy, did she prove me wrong!

The Cell by WrathOfMacy - I don’t know how I came to read this one. But damn, this was a good one (who am I kidding they’re all good ones). I’m still reading through it though. It’s a warfic in which Dramione end up locked in a cell together. The relationship builds nicely. I cannot wait to read more of it.

The Melody Of Touch by @magicaltraveler3 - I never knew I needed a dramione story like this story. I love that there is so much musical imagery incorporated into it. I haven’t read anything like it before. The story, the smut, the taxi and the freaking art work. It is everything!

Every Day, a Little Death by @lovesbitca8 - I’ll be honest with this one. I read the first chapter and the last chapter 🙈 BUT only cause everyone scared me so much. I plan to revisit. SPOILER. I may not care too much that Hermione cheated. Just me? Like yeah I hate cheating and she shouldn’t have done it, but like she admitted to it, and was very regretful for it. Anyway, the chapters I read were very interesting I look forward to revisiting it sometime.

Away by @indreamsink - written for the romcom fest and I got to say I think this one may be my favourite from the fest. Not only do you get dramione but you get the amazing side pairing of Harry/Pansy, which this year has really became my favourite side pairing. It’s like reading two love stories at once, I was interested in the dramione plot line obviously, but I was equally interested in the hansy/potts&pans plot line.

The Path Unexpected by @magicaltraveler3 - this story is a cute little domestic dramione fanfic. And I lived for it. It shows dramione going through the process of having a child and honestly, they’re so damn cute in this fic. The fanart is next level also!

[dolliedarlin]

Hi I’m one of the anons who’s obsessing over the P.A series!!!!! For some reason my brain has been full w diff things that could happen IDKKK! Hope u don’t mind if I dump a few....

TW: this is A bunch of rambling and some grammar errors LMAO sorry

Idk y I c y/n having a stalker💀 this prob sounds rlly weird but hear me out. (To add drama, also I Lowkey wanna c Mina,Sero and kiri get mad idk y-)

Since we all know y/n is the baddest most sophisticated b*tch (sorry idk if I’m allowed to cuss or not LMAO) her Ex lover is still obsessed w her and thinks that they are soulmate even tho they obv aren’t. I feel like y/n knows he stalks her but she ignores it until it gets worst. Like he found out where she lives. (He finds out where she lives while she’s sick which is now loll)

Anyways I feel like Mina would be over at y/ns place and since she’s getting better they are In her living room talking abt who knows what and y/n gets a knock on her door she goes to open it and admittedly closes it looking shocked. Mina being a pro hero is  supposed to be able to read body language. Mina ask her if everything is Alr and y/n OFC (stupid a**) says yes. Mina didn’t want to keep pressing the issue so she dropped it until it became a reoccurring thing with y/n and it’s not just her that noticed. She (y/n) is extremely hesitant to open the door and when she does she opens it a little bit. (And then idk her EX does crazy like breaks into her apt and scares the sh** outa y/n) THIS IS WHERE MY BIG IDEA STOPS 😭😭😭😭😭😭 that was a lotta rambling my apologies

Have a great day dollie!

oh no! please don’t feel bad, it’s always fun for me seeing what you dolls would want to happen next

although i don’t plan on bringing any psycho exes into ‘the p.a’ series, as a writer and an avid daydreamer, i can’t help but play around with this idea 

warning: there are brief mentions of violence ; this is not a part of ‘the p.a’ series but is just a little thought that i just couldn’t help but try my own hand at also ; i didn’t edit this either 😂 so kindly forgive any grammatical/spelling mistakes 

continuing on from your idea...

⏤mina, having the sneaking suspicion that something bad might happen to you that night, notifies the rest of the group later on that day

⏤usually, bakugou was in charge of you during the night and always sat in a chair beside your bed on high alert, ready to serve your every need...

⏤BUT!

⏤now that mina told them about your suspicious behaviour, all of them were put on high alert. 

⏤they all agreed to keep you unaware of their intentions by having bakugou take care of you like usual but they made sure that when on the night patrol, they were close by with their radios on and constantly being hyper aware of the shortest route to your residence from wherever they were situated - just in case of an emergency 

⏤naturally, they trusted bakugou with keeping you safe but that didn’t mean that they had no worries for you at all 

⏤seeing as you usually feel asleep before bakugou switched with the sero, who took care of you in the late evening, you were under the impression that you were alone at home 

⏤your current condition disallowed you from comfortably staying awake so you were constantly tossing and turning in bed, brows furrowed and sweating more than usual

⏤”what is she dreaming about?” bakugou utters in frustration as he continues to wipe away the vastly accumulating sweat rom your wrinkled brows

⏤he wasn’t frustrated at you no no, he was annoyed at the fact that he couldn’t make you comfortable no matter how many wet towels he uses to cook your forehead or wipe your sweat clean off your skin 

⏤as the night progresses, you eventually fall into a dreamless sleep, far too exhausted to continue stressing over your ex with the added burden of your fever on your body

⏤nevertheless, bakugou continues being on high alert at all times except for when he momentarily leaves to room so as to go to the toilet 

⏤this was the perfect opportunity for your crazy ex to sneak into your room via the window bakugou left ajar so as to help cool you down better 

⏤your ex was a creepy and disgusting man - someone that you had grown to dislike the more you got to know him and naturally left as quickly as you were able to 

⏤what followed was harassment to the highest degree, thankfully you were able to protect yourself due to your self defence training and quirk, however, it didn’t take away the shuddering feeling of being watched constantly

⏤you grew paranoid and extremely fidgety over time and eventually filled for a restraining order. unfortunately, that didn’t work and left you to deal with the situation yourself

⏤you were naive enough to think that you had shaken him after a particularly horrible beating he took from you in self defence. he had come at you with a knife but you were able to disarm him and send him limping home with a dislocated arm, a black eye and a bruised ribcage 

⏤over time, you got busy with work and slowly forgot about him, it wasn’t until today that you were reminded of his crazy obsession with you and were thrown into a panic 

⏤believing that you were alone at night and in your most vulnerable state, you didn’t feel safe and sought to deal with the situation however you could, even in your dreams

⏤all attempts were in vain, however

⏤bakugou, returning from his momentary break to the toilet came back just in time to see your creepy ex hovering over your sleeping figure. as if you sensed the unpleasant existence stalking you, your body stiffened under the blankets and you began to breathe uncomfortably, beginning to sweat bucket-fulls once more

⏤not wanting to disturb your sleep as rest was the top priority for you, bakugou crept up from behind the unknown figure and instantly went for his neck, choking him into silence as he dragged his thrashing figure outside, far away from you all the while sending a emergency signal to the rest of the squad 

⏤in no time at all, the rest of the squad arrived and had your crazy ex cornered. at this time he had already been tied up by bakugou and was ready for a quick chat 

⏤”what the hell were you doing with our yn?” kirishima began, sharp teeth grinding together as he clenched his jaw 

⏤silence 

⏤”speak up, we can’t fucking hear you,” bakugou spat as the others glared on from beside him, their eyes piercing through the moonlight and darkness of the night 

⏤”y-yn isn’t yours - that’s the first thing,” your ex finally cracked, giggling creepily in between 

⏤”you’re right,” sero began, “yn doesn’t belong to anyone so why were did you break into her house,” it took everything in sero not to lash out but they needed answers

⏤”wrong again!” your ex sang, “she doesn’t belong to you, she belongs to me! i’m her boyfriend!”

⏤”yn doesn’t have a boyfriend,” kaminari spoke up

⏤”that’s right! and if she did, we would have known,” mina agreed

⏤“that’s because she doesn’t know it yet, we broke up but we’ll get back together again soon” the tied up man giggled to himself, “it’s only a matter of time before she realises her mistake and she comes back to me,” 

⏤the team of heroes didn’t know what to say, they were so shocked and appalled at what they were seeing and hearing that they couldn’t bring themselves to utter a single word of response, they only listened further

⏤”i hoped she’d come back soon, anyway...but i was getting impatient so i had to try and convince her a little more. she’s been ignoring my love for her all this time, she can’t continue rejecting me for long...” he laughs, “i bet she misses it”

⏤“miss what...?” bakugou didn’t want to know but it had to be said

⏤”i bet she misses being with me. she’s so beautiful and so soft to the touch, she always smells good too and she has such a lovely voice - i want her all to myself, she doesn’t deserve to be anybody else’s”

⏤it was then that the team of heroes just about lost their minds. the creep before them didn’t say anything explicit but the madness in his eyes and the harrowing smile he was displaying was off putting. they dread to imagine what a lowlife nasty sob like him put you through but they saw flashes of unforgivable scenes that sent all of them into insanity 

⏤someone so precious to them didn’t deserve any such treatment. you may not have disclosed anything to them strict on being professional but if this man was willing to break into your house...they were fearful to think about what else he was capable of

⏤he deserved a beating from that act alone, actually, and a beating he got

⏤they could’ve killed the guy - they were more than tempted to and it would have been so easy...but he deserved to suffer in jail for his crimes against you so they held back no matter how painful that was for them 

⏤the very next day, under their authority and recommendation, the man was locked up for as many years as they could tally up and seeing as they were heroes, they were able to look into his past documentations and found you had filed a restraining order for him under harassment, assault and a number of other things they grew all the more furious at the more the read

⏤they would prefer it if you didn’t realise what they did that night but the media couldn’t let the story of 5 high class pro heroes sending a singular, beaten man to jail for life

⏤your creepy ex’s battered photos were all over the news and you were so incredibly grateful  

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 21 - ao3 -

When he woke, Lan Qiren expected to find everyone talking about what had happened.

He might have even preferred that, despite the cost it would undoubtedly do to his personal reputation; instead, he found that the entire incident had been largely covered up, with even Lan Yueheng uncertain as to what had caused Lan Qiren’s injury other than that it involved some sort of dispute with his brother. That a mangled version of the story had not spread was as sure a sign as anything that He Kexin, whatever her faults or reckless willingness to act on assumptions with little base in reality, had in fact explained what had really happened, and that his brother had decided that he wouldn’t permit her reputation to be tainted by her actions.

Anyone might have expected the honorable Qingheng-jun to have apologized to Lan Qiren at that point for his own reckless assumptions, but his brother had not. On the contrary, he had left orders for Lan Qiren to be punished for breaching the rules of hospitality in striking an honored guest, and for violating several other rules not publicly specified. 

Lan Qiren could imagine which ones his brother had in mind.

“But I didn’t do anything wrong,” Lan Qiren said to his teachers, blankly staring down at the punishment order, written in his brother’s hand. He hadn’t even been given the courtesy of being told about it to his face, as anyone might have expected, nor allowed the opportunity to defend or justify himself; he had been summarily sentenced in a note. “I really didn’t.”

His music teacher and his swordsmanship teacher both looked uncomfortable and awkward, each one clearly aware of the breach of protocol taking place – and, given their position as sect elders and honored teachers, very likely the actual facts of what had occurred. They knew that the only thing he was being punished over was for having the misfortune of being selected as the tool for He Kexin’s scheme, and his brother’s order – vastly excessive for a breach of the sort listed as the reason, given the usual standard of punishments – was due only to his own embarrassment and chagrin, and maybe his jealousy that Lan Qiren had unwillingly gotten even a little of the attention he so greatly desired and could not have. And yet, despite that…

“He is your sect leader,” one of them, the latter, said, and if his voice was a little regretful, it was also cold and passionless. “He has issued punishment. Are you defying his order?”

Lan Qiren’s hands were like fists on his knees. “Where is my brother?” he asked. He didn’t think an appeal would be a good idea, even if he were technically entitled to it – it’d be futile, unless his brother abruptly realized how foolish he was being – but he would be fine with it if only the answer wasn’t…

“With Rogue Cultivator He. She has agreed to give him another chance.”

Lan Qiren bit his lip and looked down. He did not like He Kexin, and not only because she had so grossly transgressed against him in an obvious attempt to convince his brother not to like her any longer – an attempt that, given the extent of his brother’s love-madness, probably wouldn’t have worked even if Lan Qiren hadn’t been utterly repulsed by the idea of bedding his brother’s prospective bride – and the idea of her giving his brother another chance at this point, even after having done so much to try to make him go away…

Perhaps she liked men that fought over her, he thought bitterly. Or perhaps it was only that she appreciated how much of his love she had for him to treat his younger brother as nothing on her behalf - though if that was what she was thinking, she was sorely mistaken. 

“Something will need to be done about my brother’s behavior,” he said, looking up at them desperately. “You must know that this is not sustainable, honored teachers.”

“That is not your concern,” his swordsmanship teacher said, while his music teacher merely looked sad and helpless, as if what was happening was a force of nature that could not be quelled or diverted, and not merely a single man’s inappropriate behavior. “Will you accept the punishment? Or do you intend to defy the sect leader’s order?”

Lan Qiren shook his head mutely, and went to the discipline hall.

Afterwards, Lan Yueheng scurried in after him, shoving a healing pill into Lan Qiren’s mouth and holding his mouth shut until he swallowed it. “You should go,” he said, glancing around anxiously. “You don’t want to be here any longer than you have to.”

“You assume I don’t have to,” Lan Qiren said, still shaking from the pain. He’d never gotten that many strikes all at once, not in his life; he could barely stand unaided, and leaned on Lan Yueheng gratefully. “I’m supposed to kneel and meditate on my actions for three days –”

“You can do that somewhere else!”

Lan Qiren shook his head.

But for once Lan Yueheng was right and he was wrong. On the first two days of his punishment, he saw his brother pass by the discipline hall in an excellent mood, his ‘second chance’ with He Kexin going better than he had hoped – according to the gossip Lan Qiren overheard, apparently she did like it when handsome men fought for her and believed in her, and moreover apparently one of her friends had intervened on his behalf – but on the third day, just as he was about to complete his penance for crimes he had not committed, his brother returned suddenly in a fury over some setback. In a bout of bad luck and bad timing, he saw Lan Qiren just as he was making his way out of the hall, and in a fit of temper he had extended his order from one set of strikes to two, even though such a retrospective revision of punishment was contrary to both the letter and spirit of the rules.

He was the sect leader, though. According to the rules Lan Yi had set down so many years ago, as sect leader, he was entitled to vary the rules if he felt the need to do so.

This time, when the punishment was done, Lan Qiren hauled himself out of there, using the wall and sheer willpower to force his shaking legs to carry him, and stiffly announced to the teacher supervising punishments that he planned to meditate in penance in the Cold Spring instead of the discipline hall.

It was technically against the stricter interpretations of discipline, since he’d been punished to kneel, not meditate, but the Cold Spring was known to have recuperative and pain-easing properties as well as acting as an aid to cultivation; his teachers, which had overseen his punishment for the second time with tightly pressed lips signifying disapproval that meant nothing if they were unwilling to take any action to stop it, did not dispute him, and with a nod his freedom was assured.

Lan Qiren had a brief moment of disquiet when he got there and realized that he would have to strip off his clothing in order to bathe – he’d only had enough time to wash himself since the incident with He Kexin, and a quick scrub in the cold air did not leave time to worry about who might try to find him while he lacked a protective layer of clothing – but with a deep breath he reminded himself that he, unlike his brother, would not allow his life to be governed by He Kexin’s whims. Anyway, it would be unhealthy to wade in with all his clothing on; the wet cloth would serve only to make him feel colder and get less benefit out of the water’s healing properties. Even if his golden core was strong enough to resist most of the negative effects of catching cold, there was no need to tempt fate.

He put his clothing somewhere he could easily see it, tucking his access token into the clothing in such a way that summoning the token would drag along the robe as well, and then unsteadily entered the water, wincing at the bracing chill as he sank down until he was neck-deep in the water, settling himself in the proper position to meditate. Or, well, to sit blankly and wait for there to be a little less pain: even putting aside the severity, it was also the first time he’d ever been subject to back-to-back punishments in such a reckless fashion. Lack of treatment after a punishment was fairly standard if the sentence also included kneeling – technically, Lan Yueheng shouldn’t have given him a pill to encourage healing, and Lan Qiren shouldn’t have accepted it, although doing so was not a major breach. Moreover, given that the teachers had ignored it rather than adding on any additional punishment, it might even be seen as having been subtly countenanced.

Lan Qiren rather wished he had one now.

Or Lan Yueheng, for that matter. Or even Cangse Sanren, far away in Yunmeng, or Lao Nie, or someone, anyone, who would be friendly and take his side, even –

“Lan Qiren?”

Lan Qiren blinked, surprised to note that the angle of the light had changed considerably; he must have fallen asleep or otherwise drifted off. Or perhaps he was still asleep, because why else would he be hearing Wen Ruohan’s slow drawling tone saying his name in the middle of the Cloud Recesses?

“Ah, little Lan,” the man himself said, gliding out of the mist that surrounded the Cold Spring like a wraith. “There you are.”

Lan Qiren stared at him mutely. “You’re – here.”

It didn’t feel real. How could Wen Ruohan be here?

“I am,” Wen Ruohan said, his lips curved in his usual arrogant expression, the one that said I don’t care what you think of me. “Or am I expected to await your invitation in the future?”

“No,” Lan Qiren said, because he felt even less in control of anything to do with his sect than he had been when he’d been its second young master, even though he was now the presumptive heir. His vision of Wen Ruohan blurred and briefly doubled; he blinked to clear it. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He hadn’t meant to say that. Even if it was true.

Wen Ruohan’s eyes briefly widened, and then he smirked, looking delighted by the admission. “So you missed me after all,” he said, his voice low and intimate; one might almost call it a purr. “Ah, my stubborn little brother…”

Lan Qiren briefly closed his eyes. Had his brother ever referred to him directly like that? He couldn’t remember if he had.

He wished that it had been some single moment in time, some rash act, that had driven his blood brother, born of the same father and mother, so far away from him. He even wished that it was something that he had done so that it could be something he might fix, might repair with apologies and penance, but he knew that it wasn’t.

When he opened his eyes again, he found that Wen Ruohan had come closer, prowling along the edge of the Cold Spring with his red eyes fixed on Lan Qiren. His pace, as always, was slow and steady – it felt inexorable, unstoppable, and Lan Qiren did nothing to stop him, watching blankly as he came forward, crouching down right beside the place where Lan Qiren was sitting beneath the water.

“Little Lan,” Wen Ruohan purred. “My little Lan…”

He reached out, his long-nailed fingers tracing down along Lan Qiren’s cheek, as light as snowflakes, and down to his chin, catching it in a strong grip and turning his face to look up at Wen Ruohan.  His thumb brushed against Lan Qiren’s lips.

Lan Qiren swallowed. It had been, he thought, too long since he had felt the touch of someone who wished him well, or indeed anyone at all; he had missed it more than he had realized.

Wen Ruohan noticed, and his smirk widened.

“I heard a rumor that you had been caught in attempted adultery,” he remarked. “I didn’t believe it, of course, and no one else did, either – but I had to come see for myself.”

“I didn’t,” Lan Qiren croaked. His voice felt strangled and inexplicably hoarse, and he found himself absently calculating distances in the back of his mind: Wen Ruohan must have left the Nightless City for the Cloud Recesses the very moment he received the report from his spies on what had happened in order to be here now. “I really – didn’t.”

“I believe you,” Wen Ruohan said, sounding cool and amused. “It didn’t really seem like something that my little Lan would do. My little Lan, who missed me so…”

Lan Qiren tried to turn his head away, not wanting to see the smug satisfaction in Wen Ruohan’s voice and face and manner – Wen Ruohan hadn’t won, he thought stubbornly to himself. Lan Qiren hadn’t given up on his conviction that such torture was wrong or that Wen Ruohan was wrong in engaging in it. It was only that Lan Qiren was tired and in pain, and willing to accept comfort from just about anyone.

Wen Ruohan wouldn’t let him turn away, though, and overpowered his weak movement easily.

“Don’t fret,” he said coaxingly. “I missed you, too.”

That sounded nice.

“I must admit, I tried not to. I thought to myself that if you were so foolish as to turn away from me, the consequences should be on your own head, nothing to do with me. But despite my best efforts, you were never far from my thoughts…”

Wen Ruohan’s hand released Lan Qiren’s  chin and drifted down to his throat, lightly pressing his nails against his skin as if examining how the color changed when he did. He moved closer, too close for Lan Qiren to see him clearly given the mist and the angle; his second hand fell upon Lan Qiren’s shoulder, while his first continued to drift down, skating along his collarbone, drifting over to his side –

His touch slid across one of the stray bruises left over from his punishment.

Lan Qiren flinched.

That was a bad idea, of course. The involuntary reflex moved his body too quickly, straining all his other cuts and bruises, and the spike of pain from that made him gasp and instinctively curl up. His vision briefly whited out, and he struggled to control his breathing, keeping it slow and shallow to let the pain pass over him.

After a moment that felt overly long, his vision cleared. When it did, he became aware that Wen Ruohan’s fingers were pressed to his brow in the place between his eyes, transferring warm qi to him in such a torrent that it almost hurt; Lan Qiren lifted up a hand to stop him.

Wen Ruohan was faster than him, though, and he pulled away his hand and caught Lan Qiren’s, pulling it up to examine the bruising that was already appearing on the back of his arm – stray marks, in the main part, since the majority were on his back, between his neck and thighs. “What happened?” he asked, voice sharp. “How did you get these wounds?”

Lan Qiren looked at him in bewilderment: was this not the same man he had seen twist human beings into shapes their bodies could not bear, burn them with fire and slice them into bits? Why would he care so much over a few bruises and cuts, the marks left behind by unyielding wood when it struck flesh, instruments of discipline used a thousand times over in every single sect? 

“You know already,” he said, unable to keep the slight tone of plaintive accusation out of his voice. “You said you believed me…”

Wen Ruohan stared at him, expression strangely blank, and then in a single gesture he pulled Lan Qiren up to a standing position, waist-deep in the water and choking on the pain of it, back bent forward like a bow, the worst of the marks now visible to Wen Ruohan’s burning gaze.

“What is this?” he demanded.

It wasn’t really a question that needed answering, and he wasn’t really asking, not anymore, but Lan Qiren responded regardless: “Punishment.”

Wen Ruohan’s hand was tight on his wrist.

“For what?” he snarled, and he sounded furious. Lan Qiren didn’t know if he’d ever heard Wen Ruohan sound this angry - he didn’t know if anyone alive had heard him be this angry, and if they had whether they’d survived the experience. “It is impossible that you actually bedded your brother’s lover. So what possible reason could they have for punishing you?”

“He’s my sect leader,” Lan Qiren said groggily. His head was starting to hurt; he had exited the cold water too quickly. “Does he need a reason?”

The hand on his wrist tightened still further. Lan Qiren would probably have bruises there in the morning as well, equally undeserved - but he minded these far less. 

At least Wen Ruohan was angry on his behalf.

“Qingheng-jun is daring indeed,” Wen Ruohan said, his voice as smooth as silk and as dark as a moonless night. “To think he can act with impunity to anyone he wishes, even going so far as to harm one with whom I share an oath –”

“…do you?”

Wen Ruohan stopped. “Share an oath with you?”

“No,” Lan Qiren said. His head lolled a little, and he found that somewhere along the line he had been drawn into Wen Ruohan’s arms, making it easy to rest his head on the other man’s shoulder. Wen Ruohan was overly warm, as always; his sect always preferred cultivation techniques involving yang energy and fire – it wasn’t a surprise, not really, but it was unexpected how pleasant it was. “Need a reason.” He shook his head a little. “You hurt people, too.”

“You are not just any person,” Wen Ruohan said. “You’re my little brother.”

“I’m his little brother, too.”

He felt Wen Ruohan’s hand, blazingly hot against his water-chilled body, come to rest on his hair.

“You were born with poor luck in brothers, little Lan,” he said, his breath warm against Lan Qiren’s ear. It was as if all the heat in the world was contained in his body, and Lan Qiren capable only of leeching off of it. “Not just him, but me as well; we each fail you in turn. I will not apologize for having bound you to me, for I do not regret it – but I will endeavor to make it up to you.”

Surrounded by all that warmth, Lan Qiren drifted off to sleep.

[scripturiends]

stole all the air from my atmosphere

Read on ao3

Summary: Han Joonhwi thinks maybe pulling all-nighters wasn’t so bad after all, even when you’ve practically finished studying ages ago.

Rating: T

Word count: 1,577

Notes: Inspired by a poem by Timothy Joshua. And totally optional, but I recommend listening to this song while reading.

~

Hey, all. Thanks for waiting patiently for an update. This fic is in response specifically to a request I received here. I know a lot of people have been requesting for a sequel to ‘gave me no compasses, gave me no signs’ as well; truthfully, I’m not sure if this fic is in the same ‘universe’ as that one — all I can definitively say is that this still follows the canon. So, I’ll leave it up to you to decide if it’s the same timeline or not. I have a lot of fic ideas lined up for an “official” sequel, anyway. ;) 

The Solhwi brain rot just gets more potent as we anticipate the new episodes — I absolutely love receiving plot ideas from all of you, and while it’s a challenge to interpret it in my own way, I still hope that it’s on par with your expectations. As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts and comments. You can send me a message anytime too! I know I say this often, but your continued support really really keeps me motivated to write. Would love to make new friends as well, if we can help it.

Okay, the note is getting too long now. As usual, the fic is under the cut, and all mistakes in this fic are mine. Enjoy! 

~

There was that moment, when you stole all the air from my atmosphere; when my heart pounded within the might of all the planets.

It’s the third time Han Joonhwi has bit his tongue in the past ten minutes, attempting to stifle his oncoming yawns, trying not to cause any disturbance. He fights his drowsiness as best as he can, hoping that his companion wouldn’t notice — and yet, as his luck would have it, the moment he couldn’t hold it in any longer just so happened to be the exact same moment the person next to him lifted her nose from the book it was buried in.

Without looking at him, she flips another page. Tone commanding but masked with concern, Kang Sol mumbles, “Just go to bed already.”

So much for being lowkey, he thought. Joonhwi stretches himself awake, thinking of the perfect response: casual enough to make it look like he doesn’t care, but caring enough that she wouldn’t push him away. “Not until you’re done,” he finalizes.

Sol scoffs, tossing her pen lightly on the table. “You don’t even take this class.” 

Well, of course he knew that. But Kang Sol A — truthfully, he prefers to omit the distinction: no matter how many Kang Sols there are in Korea, or hell, even in the entire world, he’s only got eyes for one — is not getting anything out of him. If getting Joonhwi to admit his true feelings was her goal, she’s far from reaching it.

“You know why I’m here,” he sidetracked. 

Unconvinced, she turns to him with a provoking look, and Joonhwi already knows she’s about to go on a long-winded rant. “Yeah, yeah, I do,” she started. “You want to hang out with me but instead of just asking like a normal person, you make up this lame excuse about how I need to study even though I was already planning on doing that anyway. You practically finished studying ages ago so you just sitting there doing nothing is really rubbing salt in my wounds.” 

He watches her with both his hands on his head, suppressing a smile. Finding an opening, Sol pushes his chest lightly. “I don’t need you here. Get out.” 

She said it so weakly that he knows there’s no way she could have meant it. Making sure she doesn’t lose her balance, Joonhwi quickly takes hold of her wrists and gently places them back on the table. “You talk too much,” he breathed. 

Sol purses her lips in annoyance and propped her chin up with her hand. “Yeah, well, that’s why you’re dating me,” she pouted.

If she keeps putting him in his place like this, he might actually have to walk out, but not for the reasons she’d expect him to, like his supposed exhaustion. Joonhwi knows Sol doesn’t do this on purpose, but she naturally has a way of making him flustered, and he’s trying really hard not to lose his cool right now. 

She stomps her feet lightly on the ground, groaning. “This is too difficult,” she complains, leaning her head on Joonhwi’s shoulder. 

Really, really hard.

It’s funny how Sol can say something one minute and then completely contradict it by the next. She says she doesn’t need him there, but clings onto him like her life depended on it. Not that Joonhwi was complaining — but he does want to have a little fun with her. He wanted to stir her a bit with something like, I thought you didn’t need me here? He knows she hates being called out for snappy remarks that she only ever means as a joke.

But a quick glance at Sol, in her favorite pajamas and one of Joonhwi’s sweaters, on the very rare occasions she has her hair down, bangs falling on her eyes, Joonhwi decided against it. Her vulnerability shouldn’t be treated with ridicule; it should be met with an equal amount of softness. After all, no one else but Joonhwi gets to see Sol like this — he finds that as a privilege which shouldn’t be taken for granted. 

“Okay.” He gives in. “Let me have a look.”

Joonhwi holds his palm out to ask for the reading material, which, as usual, Sol rejects. “Didn’t we already talk about this?”

He feigns innocence. “Talk about what?”

Her head feels heavy on his shoulder. “I need to be able to stand on my own if I’m going to survive law school hell,” she reminds him. “You can’t keep coming to my rescue for every little inconvenience.” 

“So this is just a minor setback?” Joonhwi teases. He couldn’t help it. 

“No,” Sol cries, “it’s a major obstacle.” 

She snuggles up against him, and Joonhwi could literally feel the heat rising to his face. Nonetheless, he lightly holds the side of her head for support and asks, “So what? Are you just going to give up?” 

“Of course not,” she mumbles, her breath hot on his neck. Joonhwi knows the law well, but he feels like this should be illegal. 

“But sometimes I wish I was just naturally smart like you.”

He lets out a soft sigh. Like many other things, the pair have talked about this before, and Joonhwi has never denied that he and many others have had a significant head start over Sol. But this is what he’d always tell her: 

“If everyone in this school had half as much of your wit, every crime in the world would have been solved by now.” 

To which she’d grimace and respond with, “Yeah, tell that to the F I got in Criminal Code.” 

But tonight was different. Sol wasn’t coming from a place of defeat, she was saying this out of frustration. She was probably thinking that maybe, had her life choices been different, she would have had it easier. That maybe, had she been as lucky in wealth and opportunities as everyone else, she wouldn’t need to work twice as hard as them. So that maybe, like Joonhwi, she could just comfortably sit in silence with him and enjoy his company. 

Right now, he’s treading murky waters and he’s afraid that one wrong move could give Sol the wrong idea. Joonhwi has never been the type to open up to people, but she never made it difficult for him to do so. With Sol, honesty was just the default. Telling her things he’d never entrust with anyone else came as easy as breathing. 

He takes her hand and gingerly intertwines it with his own. “I didn’t have it easy at the beginning either,” he admits. “Law school wasn’t even a part of my plan, and yet here I am.” 

This is at least one thing he knows Sol could empathize with. After being betrayed by the last person he’d ever expect to hurt him, Joonhwi’s life took a turn. To an extent, he was motivated by rage. But mostly, he was just trying to find a way to turn that pain into something useful, trying to make sure no one else has to go through what he did. And call him foolish for being too hopeful or optimistic, but he believes this is something he and Sol can do for each other. They’re two sides of the same coin: the law owes Sol an apology, and Joonhwi is coming to terms with the fact that he might never get one, ultimately being robbed of the opportunity after his uncle’s untimely death. 

Joonhwi knows his words bear significant weight to Sol. There’s a lot of things he wants to say to her but right now he just settles with, “I think you’re smart enough. If anything, you need to stop going overboard. What if you get sick again?”

She lifts her head and stares at him with doe eyes.

“That’s why I’m here.” He raises their interlocked fingers to show to her. “Why do you think I’m holding your hand? It’s so I can pull you out from under when you’re drowning in all of this.”

Sol slowly breaks out into an endearing smile, trying to repress her laughter but failing. “Heol. Han Joonhwi, since when were you so sentimental?”

Joonhwi doesn’t know where this newfound bravery came from, but he kisses Sol on the forehead lightly. “Since you needed it.” 

Sol blinks, her expression unreadable, and Joonhwi fears that he may have done the wrong thing. But much to his disbelief, she instead grabs him by the collar and closes the gap between her lips and his. They crash against one another in perfect rhythm, and Joonhwi mentally slaps himself for not doing this sooner. Never has he felt more at peace than at this very moment, which was ironic considering he was supposed to be the one doing the comforting. And yet, the lines blur when he realizes that even when their methods are vastly different, they’re at their best when they’re in tune with each other’s needs.

And right now, this is what he needs the most.

Much to Joonhwi’s dismay, Sol finally pulls away; they’re both out of breath. 

Still in a daze, he musters up the courage to ask such a stupid question. In fact, he’s surprised he could even speak at all. “What was that for?” 

“You’re not the only sentimental one here. If you’re going to kiss me, do it right.” 

That was when I knew, you were worlds more, than just a first kiss.

~

Send me your thoughts here!

[neakco]

The Lost Temple ch. 2

Ao3 Ch.1 Ch.3 Masterlist

Marinette doesn't fully trust the American Heroes but knows that she probably needs their help.

Tim doesn’t trust these two teens that are definitely hiding something.

Yet they made camp together anyway.

Ch.2 Sleepless Night

It had taken longer then they would have like to figure out a watch schedule. While they had both agreed to an alliance, neither group trusted the other.

 

Finally a compromise was made. Each group set their own schedule. Marinette and Adrien agreed to each do half the night. While the Trio took one 2 hour shift each.

 

Adrien would take the first 3 hours and would be starting his shift with Superboy. Impulse had the 2nd watch which he would share with both of them before she would finish out the night with Red Robin.

 

Marinette was a little nervous, she knew Superboy had heard Plagg earlier. They weren’t used to others being able to hear as well as her Kitty. She was lucky that her bond with Tikki allowed communication via emotions.

 

She stared up at the stars, at least this wouldn’t be the first time she had gone without sleep for a mission. She glanced briefly at the tent the American heroes had set up. It looked cramped. She was quite happy with her blanket.

 

Her and Adrien had tried using tents before but he preferred to sleep up high and she enjoyed the connection to the plants she got on the ground. It always allowed her to feel more rested, even if, like tonight, she didn’t actually sleep.

 

Adrien came to let her know it was her turn so she rolled up her blanket and went to join Impulse.

 

The boy never seemed to stop, he constantly dashed back and forth as he talked non-stop about everything.

 

“Doesn’t that drain your energy?”

 

He stopped short as if he had forgotten she was there. “No, well yes, but II can quickly get back to civilization for snacks.”

 

She nodded as the hero began to move around and started talking about his favourite snacks. She had an idea to run past Red Robin once he joined her on watch. She would suggest it to Impulse but she had a gut feeling that would be a bad idea.

 

 

Tim woke a little early for his turn and crept towards the trees in order to observe Marinette and Bart.

He was a little surprised that she seemed interested in the one-sided food conversation. At least he had assumed it was one-sided until she chirped in with a question about Bart’s preferences on French pastries. He didn’t expect the girl to become so offended when Bart told her he didn’t like croissants.

 

Tim decided that it was close enough to his watch and stepped out of the shadows.

 

Impulse flew into the trees in his surprise while Marinette hadn’t moved. Had he lost his touch? No, she may not have jumped but he noticed she had a hand to her back where it hadn’t been before. He concluded that she had probably reached for a weapon.

 

“Seriously Rob? I love you but that’s just mean.”

 

Tim smirked, “Maybe next time you will pay attention.”

 

“You’re a bat, doesn’t matter how much I pay attention.” Bart grumbled as he waved goodnight to Marinette and headed off to find his sleeping bag.

 

Tim turned back to Marinette and was shocked by the level of malice being directed at him. “What did I…”

 

“Don’t you ever do that again.” Her voice, while harsh, was soft and filled with concern. “I could have killed you. If it was Adrien you had startled you wouldn’t be alive.”

 

Tim swallowed his retort. Normally he would think it hilarious that this tiny enigma thought that she or her delicate looking friend could hurt him, but there was something there. It was the way every sound stilled at her anger, the way his gut yelled at him to run. Putting all this together with their first conversation, he began to wonder if the two teens had been granted power by the gods.

 

Marinette was taking deep meditative breaths. “You are lucky I analyze before reacting.”

 

“Sorry. I had figured you had a sixth sense.”

 

She eyed him, “You were testing a theory?”

 

“Yes. I like to know what my allies are capable of and it’s not like you two have been very forthcoming.”

 

It surprised Tim to see her relax at this rather than get angrier.

 

“The decision to share isn’t really up to me or Adrien. I assume it is similar to your identity, unless what I've heard about Batman is wrong.”

 

Tim laughed quietly while keeping an eye to their surroundings. “We actually tell people our identities all the time, people just assume we are joking.”

 

Her eyes widened, “That works?”

 

“Well it works if the public's image of your two personas are vastly different. People will believe what they want no matter what you tell them.”

 

He was about to ask if she was thinking of becoming a hero when he noticed her darkening look. Unlike before where it had been anger mixed with concern, this time it was mixed with sadness and pain.

 

“You okay?”

 

“People really do believe what they want.” Her eyes turned wistful and she looked up into the trees. “Really shows you who your real friends are.”

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” How was he supposed to comfort her? Alfred would probably offer her hot chocolate and sweets.

 

“No, it all happened years ago. I am mostly over it.”

 

Tim let out a sigh of relief, at her look he tried to smile kindly. “No offense but I was raised by the most emotionally distant people and I really had no idea what to do if you started crying.”

 

The sudden laughter surprised him. That wasn’t a normal reaction. He frowned as he watched her try to stifle the sound.

 

“I'm sorry, it’s just, well, welcome to the club.” She started laughing a little bit harder and maybe a bit more broken. “Adrien can tell you some stories. Well I can two, but mine only start a few years back. I don’t have a life's worth like he does.”

 

“But why is that so funny?” He frowned harder trying to understand if he was the joke.

 

He jumped and threw a batarang that thankfully missed when Adrien suddenly dropped out of a tree and landed beside him.

 

“Where we come from it was always better to laugh instead of giving in to emotional distress.” He turned to Marinette, “You okay M'lady?”

 

“I just,” her giggles increased slightly, “strays, it’s always the strays.” She giggled a bit longer before stopping suddenly and glaring at Adrien, “Why aren’t you asleep?”

 

Tim could see the blonde visibly gulp as he lied poorly, “bathroom. Going back to sleep now. Bye.” He quickly left back into the trees and took off roughly in the direction of camp based off the rustling.

 

“You two are very strange.”

 

“Says the talented human commanding literal super humans.” She snorted. “Oh, I almost forgot. Do you think Impulse could quickly map out the jungle for us?”

 

“If he can keep himself from tripping over roots and snakes then maybe. Why didn’t you ask him?” Tim was curious. She had spent an hour with Impulse, there had been plenty of time.

 

“I figured you were the leader and I would have to ask no matter what. Mostly I was worried he wouldn’t be able to but pride would cause him to say yes anyways.”

 

Tim tried to study her expression but it gave nothing away. “How did you come to that conclusion?”

 

“Simple, Impulse acts like a younger Adrien.”

 

 

Marinette thought back, Chat had been so free. She missed those times. Unfortunately reality had hit them both fairly hard. She doubted if they could ever be that carefree again.

 

“I would deny your assessment if I could.” Red Robin leaned back against her tree and typed into his arm. She hadn’t realized there was technology integrated into the suit. She was almost jealous.

 

A holographic map of the jungle was displayed floating above his arm so she leaned forward to gain a better look.

 

Red Robin pointed to a small area causing a dot to appear  “This is our camp.” He gestured to highlight a portion green. “This is the area we checked yesterday. My initial reports showed activity in these areas.” This time the highlighted red, or brown in the areas that overlapped with the searched area.

 

She hummed in thought, “Add another kilometer to the searched radius. Adrien split off a couple times yesterday.”

 

She could see his eyes shift to suspicion briefly but he complied anyway

 

“If you knew that then you never needed Impulse to make a map, you wanted him to find the enemy.”

 

She nodded but stayed silent and observant. It was kind of nice watching someone else think like she does.

 

“It wouldn’t be a bad idea if Impulse was capable of stealth. “She watched him remove the searched area from the map in order to zoom in on the rest.

 

“You have a plan.” She was grinning, she could already tell what he was thinking.

 

The way he looked at her screamed that he knew that she had already figured it out. She was happily surprised when he decided to continue explaining to her.

 

“I propose that we split up. My team has trackers to keep track of our own whereabouts and comms to communicate. I think Superboy and Adrien take this route.” A Blue and red line appeared on the map. “While we take this path more to the right.” This time the line was red and black. She knew they were supposed to represent his colours but they worked just as well for her. She bet Adrien would have a laugh.

 

“I'll have Impulse cover this middle area in between our groups to cover any gaps and act as a runner in case we need anything. Anything to add?”

 

She bit her lip. These were heroes, she could probably trust them, at least a little. Plus Adrien wasn’t able to sense the temple’s magic. “How good is Superboy's x-ray vision?” Damn it, she thought she had fixed her word blurting problem.

 

Red Robin seemed surprised by her words, “What? Why?”

 

She chewed on her lip a bit more before she felt Tikki's reassurance. “What I am about to tell you is secret enough that it could very well get you killed. Are you sure you want to know?”

 

She watched his face carefully. There was hesitation, doubt, curiosity, and finally that thirst for knowledge that got her into trouble constantly.

 

He finally shrugged, “Just an average day for me.”

 

She smiled but dropped her voice into a serious tone. “There is a temple here that was lost underground years ago. No matter what else happens I can not let anyone get the knowledge and treasures it holds.” She remembered some of the things the monks had told her and Adrien without ever actually explaining what the temple was guarding. “If these people find the temple first then best case scenario has them taking over the world.”

 

Red Robin's voice was low, “And worst case?”

 

“They destroy the entire universe as we know it.”

Taglist @toodaloo-kangaroo

[silence-burns]

Please Hate Me //part 45

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on: “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine​ Who would have thought that babysitting a god could be so much fun?

Genre: slow-burn, enemies to lovers, banter, smut in this chapter

Loki, despite being raised in a royal family, was at heart a man of simple pleasures. What more could he want from life than what he already had? 

The Edge was a place of wonders, that much was indisputable. And even if not all of them were easy to enjoy, there were still moments worth living for. 

The stars above felt closer than the last time Loki paid attention to them. Galaxies swirled in their eternal dance, the stars bright and colorful. Here, at the edge of the known universe, one had to wonder what laid beyond it. Here, it didn't feel far at all.

But even though some part of him couldn't stop the curiosity, Loki was tired of adventures. Or at least the ones where he had to risk his life and others'. Years ago, he'd have been surprised any 'others' would choose to stick with him and stay by his side despite it all. It was still a strange, new concept that baffled him whenever he realised how comfortable he’d grown in his new life. How vastly different it was from what he had predicted his future to look like.

But it was okay, Loki concluded. If life wanted to surprise him in that way, he'd allow it. 

Loki closed his eyes. The wind gathered the sweet scent of flowers, blowing it through the lush gardens, overflowing with life. It was one of the many wonders of the Edge - how capable it was of change. How easy it was for the muddy creeks to turn into crystal-clear ponds. How the dry patches of grass could turn into fields of greenery and flowers. How the gnarled trees could turn into a forest thrumming with noise and movement. 

All of it for a price paid in blood and ash. 

Loki's hand brushed his throat, where he had still felt the ghosts of pain. 

It was over, Loki had to remind himself again. The mission was over and they were all leaving the Edge soon. There were other, better, things to focus on. He should think about how soft the grass was as he laid on the field. How warm you felt, pushed into his side and wrapped in his cape. How peaceful it was among the trees, with birds singing somewhere in the distance-

"Don't ya fucking LICK that frog, Peter, or I swear on your aunt, I'll-" 

"It smells like carrots!" 

"It doesn't mean you have to- oh my god… This is the last time I abduct you." 

Loki smiled. The birds were no longer singing, or at least not through the deafening ringing in his ear, but he didn't mind. He didn't mind that life at all. 

He heard rushed steps to his left moments before the boy reached him. Loki cracked one eye open. 

The fattest, most annoyed, orange frog he had ever seen flopped from the boy's hands, all six legs dangling loose. 

Peter's smile was brighter than the countless stars overhead. "Look what I found, Mr. Mischief! There were more of them, and in different colors too!" 

The frog burped. It indeed smelled of carrots. 

Loki closed his eye. "What does it taste like?" 

"Like a frog, unfortunately…"

"You should check out the other ones." 

"Okay!" 

And before he knew it, the boy was gone. The thicket shook. A few faeries rushed away, desperately flapping their translucent wings. 

"He's gonna lick all the frogs now," you grumbled from your cocoon. "He's gonna be sick." 

"I can heal him." 

"How nice of you. I'm sure he'll appreciate it." 

"What can I say, darling? I'm a generous god." 

"So in all your godly wisdom you told the boy to go lick some frogs?" 

"Let him have some fun." 

You turned your head to face him. Loki was looking at the stars overhead. Dark bruises peeked from under his collar. Magical aftershock, he had called them when he had explained why they didn't disappear despite his healing. They'd stay for a while, he said. A small price to pay. 

"I'm glad it's over," you said quietly. 

"So am I." 

"Do you think…," you licked your lips. "Is it okay for us to just lay here and enjoy this change?" 

The Edge took a shape that was so vastly different that it still seemed like a miracle. The balance was indeed a precarious thing there, no flicker of energy ever wasted. The land replenished, bringing to life things that made you admit that magic could be beautiful. 

Still, you couldn't forget where all this energy came from. How the Queen had delayed her own fading by killing so many others.

"We did what we could," Loki understood your worry too well. "It is beyond us to change the laws of these lands and their dwellers. Harsh as this might feel to us, this is what life looks like here. All this," he gestured to the shimmering forest around, "is what the Edge was always supposed to be like, if the order of things had been kept."

"Wise words coming from an outsider."

You unfurled from Loki's cape so fast you almost ripped it from beneath him. The Prince was standing at the edge of the clearing the three of you chose to spend your final hours at. He was wearing a robe in distinct shades of silver, the pattern covering the fine fabric meandering within the eye-catching lines. It was the most vivid thing you'd ever seen him wear, the shine of the metal pieces razor-sharp.

The Prince wasn't looking at you. "I have lived for so long I couldn’t remember how my own world was supposed to be. How strange it was to see it wither throughout the centuries despite the Queen's fading supposedly filling out the essence lacking. How strange it was for so many Rifts to form and plague our lands. How peaceful it had become now…"

Loki and you exchanged glances, but kept quiet. The Prince kept his hands clasped behind his back, but you couldn't forget them drenched in blood.

During the silence after the Prince's words, Peter came back from whatever he had occupied himself with and likely annoyed whatever creature he managed to find. He took one look at the visitor and disappeared between the trees again. He was a smart boy, after all. 

"We are glad this issue is resolved at last," Loki said carefully. 

"So am I." 

The Prince nodded to himself. His eyes were cold and distant. You wondered how long one had to live to forget their own past. 

And how long it'd take the Prince to vanish, now that the weight of fading had fallen to him. 

"The body of your ambassador is being prepared for the transport," he said at last before leaving the clearing. He did not take the path towards the palace, though. Loki and you watched him disappear between the trees, walking slowly among the flowers in full bloom. You couldn't help but wonder if he was reminiscing, or creating fresh memories. 

The air tasted like ash in your mouth. 

"I think I prefer spiders." 

Loki shushed you. "Don't bring bad luck. I want to leave this place in one piece." 

"Oh? And where would you rather be?" you asked as you laid back down on the soft grass. 

"Somewhere nice and quiet, but I'm open to suggestions," Loki purred into your ear, bringing you close to his chest. 

"Then I'm sure my little surprise will be to your liking."

Loki stilled. "A what?" 

"You'll have to be patient. We're here, so I'm not sure what's going on on Earth, but I think it should be ready when we're back."

Loki's mind was overflowing with all the possibilities and ideas. He went over your past conversations, trying to piece together whatever hints you might have given him. "Should I guess?"

"I'm not telling you anything. You have to wait." 

Loki did not want to wait, but his options were limited. 

By the time you were to leave the Edge, he was no closer to finding out what you had planned. The three of you waited patiently on the same balcony you had arrived on all those weeks ago. It hadn't felt that long, probably because of how much had happened since then. 

Roses climbed high over the stone walls of the palace, their flowers heavy and blooming. Petals rained down, picked off by the wind and taken away. 

The ambassador's body was wrapped in silk and bound tight, ready to be taken to his birthplace at last. 

"Do you think he found out what the Queen had been doing?" you asked quietly. 

"He might've been suspicious enough to look for all those ancient scrolls in the library and pieced together the facts," Loki said. 

"And the Queen didn't let him spill her secret." 

Peter frowned. "So… she was the bad guy, right?" 

If only things were so easy. 

"Often, there's no good or bad," Loki said, looking at the roses. "There are just things that'll hurt you more than the others, and the things that'll hurt others but save you the pain. Everything is a matter of choice. And values." 

The three of you watched the Bifrost open and swallow the remains of the ambassador. Only he would be allowed on the grounds of Asgard that day, at least officially. No hint of emotion could be noticed on Loki's face as he watched the flash of light disappear. You took his hand. 

Out of the shadows of one of the towers came the Prince, entering the balcony from the side of the river, shimmering far below. He was alone, no guards following his steps. You wondered how many of them were left. 

"Looks like this is farewell," he said in a deep voice. 

"We are glad we could help," Loki lied smoothly. 

There were no words left to exchange. It was clear that whatever would happen now to this place was way beyond either of your control. 

No amount of evidence could ever make you trust the Prince, though. 

The light surrounded you in a flash of colors, pulling on each and every fiber of your being. Loki tugged you into his side, Peter sticking himself to his other. 

The feeling of being ripped to atoms and then roughly put back into shape half a galaxy away was almost familiar by now. Still, it was no more bearable than the previous times and left you with a mild dizziness once your form materialized back on Earth. 

You'd never laugh at people clapping after plane landings again. 

The sudden change of the surroundings hit you with a cold blast of winter chill and sun, although its light was diluted through the clouds. It was strange not to see the galaxies in the reach of your hand. 

What was even stranger was seeing Thor calmly standing at the top of the Stark Tower, where the three of you had been transported to. 

"I think I prefer the bag," Peter mumbled, dangerously green on his face. 

Thor approached you with a frown that, Loki knew, had never led to anything good. At least not for him. Brotherly love could be rough at times. 

"So, you're back," he said, openly eyeing the kid. "How did it go? Are we at war?" 

"We're all good, thanks for your concern," you cooed sweetly. 

"The Edge was never more beautiful than when we left it," Loki smiled. 

Thor took a steadying breath. "...is it in ruin?" 

You thought back to the slightly devastated great hall of the palace. And the gardens still dealing with the aftermath of a spider infestation. 

"I just told you it's not! Why do you always accuse me of lying, brother? I'm deeply hurt by your lack of trust." 

"It's the safer option," Thor said. "As glad as I am to learn that the crisis is apparently solved, I dare ask what is the boy doing with you?" 

Peter blanched. 

Loki pushed him off the roof. "What boy?" 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw not-a-boy swinging off into the city as fast as his webs allowed him. 

The second steadying breath helped Thor even less than the first one. There was a tiny little vein pulsing at his temple, threatening to burst along with his temper. 

Loki patted Thor's arm on his way to the stairs. "Don't worry, brother. We took care of everything."

"That's precisely why I worry." 

You sent him a kiss as you followed Loki. It didn't seem to be appreciated enough. 

You couldn't believe you were back on Earth. The change that felt huge before, only grew with each step you took down the Tower's familiar corridors. The kitchens, the day rooms, training grounds - it all felt so strangely unreal after the weeks living among the shifting, feral magic of the Edge. 

"It's good to be back," you said at precisely the moment Bruce Banner appeared on the other end of the corridor leading through the labs. 

Bruce froze, his eyes growing wide. He, apparently, had a dramatically different opinion about your coming back. 

He shifted nervously on his feet, but there was no escape. "So, uh… How did it go?" 

Loki pretended to think. "Well, don't expect to see the real moon anytime soon." 

The look on Bruce's face was worth a pic, but your phone had been left in your room before the mission. 

"It really is good to be back," Loki repeated your earlier words sometime later, once the door to your room closed behind your back. 

Not much seemed to have changed, which was strangely reassuring. Loki wasn't sure what his feelings were towards the small figurine of his unnerving similarity were, but even its sight was not unwelcome. It still stood on the narrow and slightly dusty windowsill, covered in the snow on the other side of glass. 

But there was one thing out of order that immediately caught Loki's attention. As far as he was concerned, the neat stack of business cards on the bedside table was not there last time, as well as the not-so-neat single one, with hand painted spider and a set of what could be horns, if one squinted hard enough. 

'thought it would be cool' said the little note scribbled with a gel pen. 

"And what is that?" Loki asked, picking it up. 

"Part of the surprise." 

"'Professional mischief for an affordable price'," Loki read out loud. "Sounds like a catchphrase of some detective agency, like the ones from the shows you showed me."

Loki thought about what he just said. He looked at you with a frown. 

"Only if you want it to," you shrugged with a little smile ghosting over your lips. 

Loki blinked. "You're actually serious." 

"I thought it would be nice if we had something of our own. You know, outside of this mess," you pointed towards the door, currently being banged with a fist from the other side. Two voices demanded to know 'everything about that damn moon'. 

Loki looked back at the neat stack of cards. The thick paper was pleasant to the touch. 

"You said it was only part of the surprise?" 

"How glad I am you asked, love." 

Loki watched you pick up your coat and gloves. You opened the large window to the left, letting the alarmingly chill air inside. "Shall we?" 

One more voice joined the ones behind the door. Loki could not see into the future, but he had a feeling that door would be the most occupied place in the Tower soon. 

"That's a lovely idea," he said and picked you up. 

The burst of magic solidified under his feet as the two of you left the Tower and all the people looking for you. 

The sun was slowly setting. It was not late, but as always during the winter time, day hours were sparse. You were high enough in the air for the pedestrians not to notice you, but even then, what would they do? Tony had been flying around in his suit on a daily basis, and wouldn't hear anyone having a problem with that. 

The wind pushed rogue snowflakes into your faces. It felt refreshing to be back in the city you were so familiar with. Everything seemed new and wondrous, especially from such a perspective. Even plane flights couldn't do it justice, not when you couldn't feel the breeze in your face, and clouds passing by so closely you could almost reach out to them with a hand. 

Loki changed course when you directed him to the older part of the city. It was still relatively close to the centre, but no skyscrapers, and certainly no towers could be found in the neighborhood of old brick apartments; only buildings a few floors high, and narrow lawns separating their fronts and the road, both currently covered in snow. No one bothered to take care of it, at least since it last fell. 

Loki put you down in front of the one you pointed him to. 

"I must admit I'm surprised," Loki said. "I'd never expect to come to a place like this, for whatever reason." 

"You don't even know why we're here yet." You led him up the ice-covered stairs to the scarcely lit interior stairwell. 

You ignored the apartments on the lowest floor, and instead took him upstairs. With a set of keys you fished out of your jacket, and which Loki dimly remembered you grabbing before leaving the Tower, you opened the door with a number 13 on it. 

"You're not superstitious, right?" you laughed quietly. 

Feeling you observe him carefully, Loki stepped inside. The short hall led to a room that once upon a time could've been someone's office. But that was a long time and a few crises ago, when the furniture was free of the scratches, and the walls didn't shed old paint every time seasons changed. Still, it had its charm, Loki had to admit as he stepped further in. If cleaned, the large window could allow a lot of light onto the heavy desk in front of it, and to the sitting area with two couches and a coffee table. To the right, Loki noticed another set of stairs, leading upwards. 

"The upper part is connected. The previous owner used it as an apartment, with this here being his working area," you explained. 

Loki nodded. 

"What do you think?" you elbowed him in the side, too nervous to wait patiently. 

Loki sat on one of the couches. Oh, he could definitely feel the atmosphere of this place, so similar to the crime shows you had made him binge (and he didn't even whine about too much). He had never thought of himself as a detective, not like the ones on TV, but on the other hand - who on Earth could be better at solving any and all supernatural secrets this planet might still have? There certainly didn't seem to be a lot of competition in that area. 

He was still contemplating his future and, of course, possible fame, when you slipped onto his lap and cupped his face. 

"What. Do you. Think?," you asked clearly, looking him straight in the eye. "Don't make me wait, asshole."

A lazy, satisfied smile creeped on Loki's face - precisely the one he knew always drove you crazy. 

"I'm still unsure, darling," he drawled, leaning further back onto the couch and reveling in the feeling of having you pressed against him. "For some very strange reason, I can't make up my mind just yet…" 

The setting sun painted golden patterns on your face. Your hand wandered over Loki's chest, and stopped over his racing heart. However much he tried to stop it, his heart had always been the one to betray his every emotion. 

"That's such a shame," you leaned into his neck, pushing his head to the side. "I would do anything to make it easier for you…" 

Loki's hands slipped to your thighs, holding you steady against him. His fingers shook when he felt your lips follow the curve of his neck, right over his rapid pulse. He closed his eyes as you slowly worked on undoing his shirt. 

"Anything you do will be enough," his words were breathy and quiet.

"Are you sure?" 

"I can't think of a single thing I wouldn't let you do to me right now." 

You certainly were enjoying yourself just as much, given the smile ghosting over Loki's collarbone, and the trail of kisses going slowly down. Loki's grip tightened over your legs, his breath becoming shorter the further you went. He felt the heat rising deep inside his chest, just as his thoughts turned murkier with each small movement of your hips, brushing unnervingly close to where he had wanted them to, but still not-

A strangled sound escaped his throat. Loki pushed the coat off your shoulders and threw it to the side, not caring where it landed. He had other things on his mind, and one of them included his hands diving under your shirt, and roaming over your back, so wonderfully warm. 

Loki shivered when you brushed over his bulge, earning you a breathless moan as you worked on his belt. 

"I think I'm starting to warm up to this place," he muttered into your lips. His fingers tugged on your trousers, as impatient as yours. 

You drank in the sounds that came from him. You stroked his shaft gently, brushing your thumb over its underside. He shuddered in your grip, tense to the point of near pain. Loki's nails dug into the skin of your back as you rose and then sank onto him, taking him in an unnervingly slow pace. 

His heart thundered in his chest as you rode him gently, the sight engraving itself into Loki's memories - those deepest, most secretive ones, which he often came back to to relive and thoroughly enjoy. 

The couch kept creaking under the two of you, growing louder as your moves became sloppier and more desperate. Loki couldn't help his hips from grinding into yours every time you rose above him, chasing the pleasure and getting close to it. Loki's thrusts became erratic. His hands gripped your ass when you leaned closer, hitting just the right spot-

He came, shivering under your touch, waves of pleasure shooting through his body. 

"Sorry," he muttered, his voice hoarse. He could already feel the redness blooming over his cheeks. He didn't think he'd be done so soon, hadn't planned it…

You shut him up with a kiss, brushing the hair plastered to his forehead to the side. Your hips rolled over his a few more times, riding him into the couch and melting his bones as you extended the feeling. 

"It's okay," you said. "We have all the time in the world now." 

Loki nodded, words failing him. He brought you closer to his chest, his arms closing around you in a tight embrace as he burrowed his face into the crook of your neck. For a few moments, the only thing he could think about was that home wasn't always a planet, or a building. Sometimes, on those few rare, and incredibly lucky occasions, it could be a person. 

And it was more than enough. 

"I love this place," Loki admitted quietly. 

[grimmseye]

Tandem

Read on Ao3 Here

Rating: Gen

Fandom: She-ra

Relationships: Hordak & Entrapta, Hordak/Entrapta (pre-relationship

Chapter Characters: Hordak, Entrapta

Chapter Tags/Warnings: This is just 1500+ words of Hordak’s thoughts about Entrapta, Pre-Season 2

(Disclaimer: remember that Hordak is both an imperial soldier and a cult survivor. This is also before he and Entrapta have really started building their relationship. His narration is told through that lens. )

— — — — — — — —

Years of sifting through the Horde’s administrative detritus had not made the job any more bearable for him. Even when Shadow Weaver had been keeping operations smooth, there was a certain portion of work that had to fall on his head, plans and projects needing review before they could be dismissed or approved of.

It was aggravating work, with one new exception. When he reached the file with telltale oil smudges on it, he could already feel the weight of his armor ease. There was a quickness to his movements as he flipped the file open — certainly not eagerness, but anticipation. For once, the weight of the file pleased him rather than had Hordak biting back groans.

Entrapta’s projects were the only things that brought him any mental stimulation these days. He took a cursory flip through the first packet, ears perking as he spotted the first draft of her blueprints. For once, she wasn’t offering new weapons to deploy, but rather a more espionage-focused design: something small that could scope out their targets before they sent any troops to seize new territory.

It was delicate work, and deeply time consuming. He settled in to read in more detail, making a note to himself to grant her a more direct line of contact to him. From now on, Entrapta’s projects should be sent through communication pads, to be vetted by the only person in the Fright Zone who could offer worthwhile criticism. Two pages in, he could tell notes from those who had reviewed it before were utterly worthless, all questions and conjecture with no understanding of what it was that they demanded. It was worthless to insist she work faster if there wasn’t a method to do so.

There was one, potentially, but not a single of the previous readers had mentioned it.

Hordak created a document on his communications pad and set a stylus to the screen. He got several lines into his writing before he had to stop, giving a faint sneer. His armor weighed his limbs, making his writing sloppy, and regardless...

He tapped his nails along the edge of his throne. As excellent as Entrapta’s reports were, she did not receive the same work with enthusiasm. Audio recordings were her preferred means of reference if he recalled correctly, remembering a delay in her work when she'd first began working on his bots. When he'd inquired about it, she'd mentioned something along the lines of struggling to digest the information. A vocal repetition and a recording of the instructions had been enough to get her back on schedule.

A moment’s deliberation sent to the security feeds, ensuring Entrapta was in her lab before he flicked on a monitor. Through his screen, it gave an overhead of Entrapta at her workbench, looking to be setting up to get to work. Good. He wouldn’t be able to interrupt her if she were doing something delicate.

He lifted his chin before announcing himself with a call of, “Princess Entrapta.”

She straightened up at once, head swiveling before she caught sight of the monitor, gawking for a moment before breaking into a smile and calling out, “Hello!”

She’d forgotten to bow. Again. He pushed a breath through his teeth, finding that the urge to demand proper respect felt oddly diluted for Entrapta. Whether or not she bowed had yet to compromise her work. Instead he skipped to the point: “I received your newest blueprints. The design is promising, if… inefficient.”

Entrapta clapped her hands together, looking excited before the words caught up with her. “Oh, I know. I’ll need to develop a prototype to get a real sense of what materials I’ll need and how much time it’ll take —” As she spoke, her words grew quick, almost snappish. “— But right now the estimated time per drone is much longer than I’d like, let alone viable for regular use.” Her hair frizzed out, bristling not unlike a cat’s. A clear sign of displeasure.

He lingered in that for a moment, then spoke. “I have a suggestion,” He said, appreciating how she perked up at once. It was gratifying to work with someone who knew what they were doing, and even understood what he was doing — at least as far as an upbringing on this planet allowed. “There is a synthetic compound we produce here in the Fright Zone that may work as a substitute for what you intend to use: adamantine. It should have the strength to support this device even in sheer pieces.”

She listened to him speak, interrupting only once to ask if she could run a recorder. Once again, he found satisfaction in that. He rarely had trouble with being listened to — with the exception of Entrapta, all knew to bow in his presence, to not speak while he was speaking. He had fear, and respect, and obedience, he had created a facsimile of the true Horde, successful in his emulation of Horde Prime. And yet, while Princess Entrapta did not fear him or even always obey him, she heard him in a way no other creature on Etheria had before. She challenged him, even, and as irritating as her insubordination could be, there was value in an alternative perspective.

Truly, she was impressive. Despite being a princess, Entrapta had taken well to life in the Fright Zone. Everything he knew of the Etherian princesses suggested inordinate wealth and luxury that would not lend itself to the Horde’s lifestyle. The primary kingdoms were disorganized and self-serving, lacking unity and loyalty to any but themselves, excising that which they found displeasing and then stuffing their castles with unneeded opulence. Here, closest thing to luxury Entrapta had been provided was her own room, something all ranking officers were granted. And yet he’d heard none of the anticipated whining, just a snippet of her voice from Imp about the brown nutrition bars being unfavorable in texture, even once cut into smaller cubes.

He wasn’t sure he could count her among the ranks of the princesses at all, and that was entirely favorable. Dryl had such organization and stability that even in their princess’ absence, the small nation ran like clockwork. It seemed almost entirely self-sufficient, and what necessary trade was denied to them after allying with the Horde could be supplemented.

Again, he berated himself for not considering Dryl’s value. It seemed that like the other nations of this planet, he’d vastly underestimated its value, and Princess Entrapta’s value most of all.

At some point, their conversation drifted off track, to the materials Dryl itself mined and then stories of what Entrapta had found beneath the earth, the First Ones’ tech she was so enamored with.

“Their power sources are more efficient than any Etherian technology I’ve seen,” Entrapta breathed, her chin cupped in her hands. “One crystal,” she framed her thumb and forefinger approximately an inch apart, “could have enough energy to fuel one of your Skiffs for a full day of flight, longer if you stop to let it replenish — because that’s what makes them so amazing, they don’t run out of power. I think eventually they might exhaust their capability for storage but I have yet to prove it, but in the meantime they seem endlessly capable of recharging their own energy, potentially by harnessing the latent magic in Etheria’s atmosphere.”

Sometimes it could become difficult to keep up with the pace of her voice, when her words began to run into one another and she took great gasps as she ran out of breath. And yet, the subject held his attention, ears perked forward with fascination.

“If we were able to collect such crystals…” Even that much energy would be insufficient for his portal machine, but to collect a great quantity —

“That’s the trouble,” Entrapta sighed, deflating. “I’ve rarely found these crystals intact.”

Disappointment weighed heavy in Hordak’s chest, then curled into anger. He’d hardly known about it for a moment, and already his hope —

He slammed his fist down on his throne. Hordak glanced at the clock, realizing half an hour had slid by without his noticing. This entire thing had been — “A waste of my time.”

“I disagree!” Entrapta’s rebuttal made his eyes narrow. Still, he knew to listen to his officers when they spoke — even to Shadow Weaver, who had to walk through elaborate metaphors and tangents before she ever got to the point. Though perhaps he should have listened less to her. The very premise of her arrival should have served a warning — seeking revenge did not sow loyalty.

Unlike Entrapta, who worked for her discoveries, for possibility rather than vengeance on the fools who had left her for dead.

So he did not silence her as she continued, “Your input was quite valuable! If you could have some of that material sent to my lab, I’ll be sure to attempt a prototype using it and see if it will be a good substitute.”

His ears relaxed from their flattened position. Hordak glanced away from the screen for just a moment, taking a breath to calm his frustrations. “Of course. I will see it is done.” He hesitated for just a moment before saying, “That is all. You are dismissed, Princess Entrapta.”

“Okay!” She smiled. “It was nice talking with you! We should do this again!”

His finger hesitated over a button. Hordak inclined his head, half of a nod before he ended the transmission.

The quiet that followed left him with a strange feeling: reluctance to continue his work, the want to shift it aside and perhaps pull up his records on Dryl to read more on what Entrapta had told him. Instead he took his pad, putting in two orders: one to deliver a shipment of adamantine to Entrapta’s lab, the other opening a direct line to her own communicator.

Just in case she wanted to consult his opinion once again.

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 6.6}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 4.7k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

"Why again do you have to get up this early on a bloody Saturday?" Jorien groaned quietly from her spot hidden under the covers in her bed, while Cas was still sleeping soundly as ever in her own. It wasn't even dawning yet, still hours until breakfast, but Robin had been up for a while already and was just now returning from getting ready in the bathroom.

"I told you, I'm going on a field trip for my research." Robin whispered back, while she got dressed in some slim fitting black jeans that were comfortable enough to move in and sturdy enough to suit the occasion. "We need to get going before the sun is up."

"You're crazy." Jorien groaned again and dug her head into her pillow, face down. "Hwow gih juh gweh hwiwh gu gwu gwif whih juh?"

"What?" Robin hissed back with a questioning frown, while she layered her favorite jumper over a long sleeved shirt and then went to put her hair up into a ponytail that ended up more messy than neat.

Jorien turned her head back to the side with a sigh. "How did you get him to do this with you?" She repeated her question tiredly, but with a spark of sincere curiosity nonetheless. "Snape, I mean."

"I didn't get him to do anything." Robin shrugged in return and sat down on her bed to lace up her boots. "I did a lot of research over the summer and I showed it to him last week. He made me show it to Dumbledore and that settled the issue."

"So it's just you and him today, huh?"

"Yeah."

"I would say poor you, but I get the impression that you are rather happy about it."

"I am. He is the only one who understands what we're dealing with; it would be a true nuisance to have to explain it all to someone else." Robin replied easily as she finally went to put on her rain jacket instead of her robes for once. The highlands were no place for a cloud of fabric that would soak through in under a minute. Then she hid her wand up her sleeve as always, and finally grabbed her backpack from the end of her bed. All set to go. "Wish me luck!"

"What do you need luck for?" Jorien yawned and hugged her pillow under her head. "I thought you guys know what you're doing."

"Obviously we know that we're going." Robin rolled her eyes with a smile. "But we're doing this entire thing to prove a theory, which means that there is a chance that I was wrong and we won't find what we're looking for."

"Alright… good luck then." The girl yawned again, and closed her eyes with a sigh. "Am glad that Snape is there to bring you back in one piece. McGonagall says you're a magnet for trouble and the obscure."

"Does she now?" Robin's lips quirked into a smirk, but she could tell that Jorien was already falling back asleep. She didn't want to seize any more of her sleep though, and thus she finally made for the door, leaving a few minutes earlier than planned. Oh well... One didn't leave adventure waiting.

… … …

Robin met Snape at the bottom of the spiral staircase that led out of the dungeons. He was wearing different robes than usual, warmer ones, and Robin found herself glad that she wasn't the only one who had planned for a long day out in the cold. They greeted each other with a silent gaze that said enough, then made their way through the empty hallways and out into the courtyard.

The very second Robin stepped out into the open, she realized that it had been a good idea to wear her jacket and not the robes. It wasn't raining yet, but the air smelled of water, soil and electricity in a way that went beyond the morning dew, and the grey sky waiting for the break of dawn was an envoy no less of the impending storm. She breathed in deeply, and had to smile. This was the best birthday present ever.

They had to leave the school grounds in order to apparate to their first destination of the day, and thus they didn't waste any time to make their way down the path to wander beyond the gates. Still, neither spoke a word, and neither did they have to. The serenity of the morning was too calm, too peaceful to disturb with any words spoken in redundancy. They would have all day to chat if they fancied to; why waste words when the silence was enough for now?

It had all been discussed in advance anyway; both Thursday and Friday night, they had sat over Robin's documentations and discussed their options for which plant they should try to find, and thus which theory to prove. They obviously had been limited to the British isles for reasons of time and distance, and also to the acquisition of a plant on Dumbledore's wish. That, and some ambition on Robin's part, had led to their current target and thus their plan of action: they would try to find wraiths' moss today. And ambitious that was indeed, but Robin felt like she had something to prove; to Snape, to Dumbledore and mostly to herself.

It didn't take them long to get away from the castle, to a place beyond the gates where they finally stopped in their track. There was no need to haste, they still had enough time before sunrise. But as they had discovered on multiple occasions, they both preferred being too early over being too late in situations that actually mattered.

This time when Snape held his hand out to Robin, she didn't hesitate to take it. She might be old enough to legally apparate by herself now, but she still had to wait until after the Christmas break to take the twelve week class to get her license to do so, to officially learn to do so. Until then, she would gladly enjoy the privilege of holding his hand for the fleeting moment of traveling. However, even now, she had to painfully remind herself to refrain from lacing their fingers together, a gesture way too intimate to be anywhere near appropriate, and yet one that most of her being was trying to urge her into anyway. But she did hold on tightly, for safety reasons, and was barely able to catch the not-smirk on his lips before the world was torn into a swirling storm of colors and strange sensations.

When Robin's eyes went into focus again, she found herself overlooking the vast sea, and to her great luck a whipping wind blew away most of her nausea after a few seconds of struggling to stay standing upright. She let out a groan as she closed her eyes for a moment, willing away the churning of her stomach while she focused on taking deep breaths. Then she looked back ahead.

They were standing high up on the edge of a cliff, over three hundred meters above the furious black waters that were relentlessly crashing against the solid rock below. The vastly desolate grassland behind their backs was but an illusion of peace in contrast to the ragged and riven stone wall that dropped in a straight vertical a mere two steps ahead. The Scottish east coast; their first destination.

As soon as the dizziness was gone to the point where she didn't feel like she would break down any second, Robin let go of Snape's hand with a silent sigh. The few seconds of having his skin touching hers had once again sufficed to leave her entire self consumed by ridiculous rushes of energy and tingles, but she pushed it to the back of her mind for now in order to do her work. That's what they were here for, after all, to gather the petals of a Haramith flower.

Haramith itself was a plant rather useless for potion making, and thus generally not something anyone would have in stock, but it was essential for Robin's theory on how to find the wraiths' moss. Getting the petals was only step one of many on the road Robin had built in theory to acquire one of the rarest mosses in this part of the world, and now with every step they followed through with successfully, they paved a bit more of that theoretical road into reality.

The good thing about Haramith was that it grew in many places, wildy sprawling on even the poorest soil, and thus it generally wasn't too hard to find. The bad thing however, and the very reason why Snape and Robin had come to a desolate cliff on the eastern shore of the country before sunrise, was that Haramith only blossomed for one single minute of the day. It grew its petals when the sun rose over the horizon, no matter if a single ray of sunshine even graced the earth that day or not, only to lose the petals again after exactly one minute. And when the petals died, they faded into dust within seconds. Which, precisely, was what made it nigh impossible to gather them if one didn't come prepared, which in this case meant knowing exactly when the sun would peek over the horizon. And where better to be precise about that than on the shore?

Robin moved along the very edge of the cliff, looking down the stone wall in search for any specimen of the desired plant she would be able to reach when the sun would rise in approximately two minutes. Due to their sun oriented nature, Haramith flowers were prone to grow on walls like this that were open to the east; at least that's what Robin had read. Indeed, it didn't take her long to find a small patch of green between the ragged stone, but it was further down the wall than she was able to reach. However luck was on her side for once.

"There's a ledge a bit further down the wall." Robin said, looking back over her shoulder at Snape while she took off her backpack and set it down at a good distance to the edge. "We don't have much time left, and there's plenty of Haramith down there. I'm going."

For a moment Snape looked like he wanted to protest, a deep frown settling on his face, but then he moved to stand next to Robin instead of voicing a complaint and glanced down the wall for a second before his eyes were back on her. "Be careful, yes?"

Robin nodded with a small smile, then sat down with her legs dangling over the edge and finally pushed herself over entirely. It really wasn't a far drop, she landed on her feet without any effort and crouched down immediately to keep her weight close to the wall and her body's centre of gravity as low as possible. She wasn't an expert in rock climbing, but she had read about it at some point and she usually remembered what she had read. That really came in handy at times.

Just in the moment she reached out to touch the Haramith, the small flowers beneath her fingertips started to stir. Her eyes widened immediately, and she couldn't help the small smile that fell onto her lips when tiny beads of bright ultramarine started to blossom out of the greyish green stems. It was a beautiful sight, watching them grow and gain in size while never losing their delicacy. After but a moment they were at their final but oh so fleeting state, and Robin almost felt sad to pluck out the petals. But they would grow new ones tomorrow morning, and every day after that as well, so it was more gain to her than loss to them.

Carefully, she placed the fragile objects in a vial she pulled out of her pocket, gathering quite as many petals as she could before all too soon, the remaining ones turned into dust right beneath her fingertips. The ones she had collected however remained perfectly intact, their bright ultramarine piercing her eyes in contrast to her ashen skin as she closed the vial at last and put it back into her pocket. Good… now she just needed to get back up the cliff somehow.

An idea entered her mind, a stupid idea, and she pulled her wand out of her sleeve before she could think better of it, pointed it upwards and closed her eyes for a second in a silent prayer to whoever was listening. Then a wordless ascendio sent her upwards, lifting her over the edge of the cliff and unfortunately even higher, which made the landing quite unpleasant, as she came crashing down onto the grass with a dull thud.

"Bloody hell, I've always hated that charm…" She grumbled to herself, sitting up on the ground with a quiet groan as she rubbed her hurting limbs.

"You could have asked me to help you, you know…" Snape quirked an eyebrow at her, mildly amused by the sight in front of him.

"And you would have done so without mocking me for the next few hours? Doubt it." Robin replied with a small snort, and still let him help her up to her feet the next moment. "I've got the petals, plenty of them even."

"Good." He mused with a not-smirk, observing how Robin dusted off her jeans. "Shall we proceed to the next destination then?"

"Yeah, just… give me a second to breathe between jumping down a cliffside, flying through the air and crashing down on the ground, before apparating again." She sighed, then went to pick up her backpack to throw it back over her shoulders. "Next time, you can do all that and I'll stand up here and watch."

"Professor's privilege. I get to let others do the… unpleasant work." He shrugged with a real smirk now. "However it isn't nearly as entertaining to watch the dunderheads as it is to observe you."

"I don't know if I should feel offended or flattered by that." Robin laughed and shook her head to herself, biting her bottom lip as she had to grin at her own thought. "It certainly is more flattering than what Alexander said to me on Thursday."

"You are aware that I could push you off this cliff in an instant for comparing me to that imbecile, yes?"

"And you're aware that you would be terribly bored without me." Robin quirked an eyebrow at him with a smirk. "Besides, there are four people at least who would most likely come at you if you pushed me off that cliff."

"They obviously do not know you half as well as I do if they would seriously hold it against me." He replied in an instant, and Robin's jaw dropped, a second before she had to laugh. Alright, perhaps he had won that round… which only meant she had to switch the game.

"Fine, do it then." She shrugged with a daring expression, showing but exaggerated casualness as she made calculated steps backwards, blindly nearing the drop with every word while her eyes stayed on his. "I'll even make it easier for you, if you want to get rid of me quite so desperately that-..."

His hand was around her wrist in an instant, pulling her away from the edge while he shot her a glare that was both warning and plea to stop. They both knew that they had walked the line between tease and seriousness too far; it was time to stop, time to return from the place they had gotten themselves into.

"Sorry." Robin was the first to speak, in a whisper only, as she stood a mere step in front of him now. She gave him a sad half smile, but didn't miss the fact that he was still holding onto her wrist as if he was actually afraid she would jump over the edge if he let go. "Sometimes I just…"

"I know." He replied almost calmly, without a trace of actual anger. "But you are right. I would indeed be terribly bored without you."

Robin's smile lost its sadness in an instant, but her heart gained a fullness and warmth instead that made it beat so strongly, she was sure he must've heard it. Still, she would spare him any teases in return for once; if he was being sincere, she would be too. "Good. I would've hated to be the only one who would miss this."

For once he did smile too, a little at least, and he still held onto her wrist, consciously or not. "Are you ready to proceed to the next destination now?"

Robin nodded, upon which he moved his hand from her wrist down to hold hers again, making her heart flutter even more at the deliberately slow touch. But instead of focusing on it, she closed her eyes and prepared for the oddness of apparating, with a frown on her face in anticipation of the discomfort that would soon follow.

"I very likely should not be telling you this before you pass the according class..." He sighed, and Robin quirked an eyebrow but kept her eyes closed nonetheless. "But there are a few things you can do to make the process of apparating less… unpleasant."

"Enlighten me."

"Release the tension in your body, and try to keep it at that state. Clear your mind but for the place you wish to go." He ordered, and Robin tried to focus on relaxing every muscle but the ones in her hand that were needed to hold onto his. "Breathe in deeply, then out again and hold your breath. Keep your eyes closed."

She did as she was told, and an instant later she felt the strange pulling and pushing sensation around her again, the swirling in her mind however was a lot milder already, and the cramping of her stomach barely even there. Before she knew, her feet were on solid ground again, and while her head was very mildly spinning, she didn't feel sick at all when she opened her eyes. Her lips curled into a wide smile.

"I actually didn't experience the discomfort! That's incredible!" Robin beamed up at Snape, who in return rolled his eyes with a not-smirk.

"Bold of you to doubt me." He replied, and this time it was him who let go of Robin's hand first. Not in a haste, but rather because it was the right thing to do. "However I still do hope that this was the second to last time we apparate today."

"Since it doesn't make me feel sick anymore, I actually don't mind it quite as much." She grinned back at him, and only then at last she took the time to look around.

They were standing in the open space of a valley in the middle of the highlands, precisely where they had planned to go. Hills, mountains, stone and green, topped off only by the low hanging grey clouds that came down almost as a shallow mist. Perfect. If it hadn't been for their mission, Robin could've stayed here for hours to drink in the overwhelming beauty of nature. But they had work to do.

"Since you were so keen on helping me earlier, why don't you work the tracing spell now?" Robin quirked an eyebrow at Snape, of course with the ever teasing smirk still playing on her lips, while she took a step away from him to take off her backpack.

"You are insufferable." He rolled his eyes in return, but still took the handbook out of Robin's hand when she held it out to him. "But if you cannot do even this simplest of spells by yourself…"

"You bloody well know I can." She replied with an easy smile; she also knew for a fact that he was just trying to mess with her. But he wouldn't succeed this time.

Without letting his teasing distract her in the slightest, Robin summoned a larger jar which they had prepared in advance last night out of her backpack. Four out of five ingredients for the tracing spell were already inside, perfectly measured of course, and when Robin crouched down to place the whole thing on the ground, she pulled the Haramith petals out of her pocket to add the fifth at last.

"Do you think I can add all of them?" She asked on a whim though, with an inquiring look up at Snape. "I mean… Do you think the measurement of the Haramith even has any impact on the results in this case? I did calculate a specific amount, but measuring it would be such a hassle out here. And now that I think about it, I see no reason why a precise measurement would be necessary in this case. What do you think?"

"It is your tracing spell and your preparation; why are you asking me?"

"Well sorry, but last time I checked you were the potions master." Robin rolled her eyes at him, even if the gesture felt a little silly while kneeling on the ground and looking up at him like that. "Besides, I wasn't asking because you would know any better than me, but because I care about your opinion. But I could also stay sitting on the cold ground to measure the damn thing, if you'd prefer that."

"I believe you could add the entire Haramith without any negative impact."

"Thank you! Was that really so hard?" Robin replied with a smile, before she carefully shook out the petals from the vial into the larger jar. Measuring the flimsy little things would have taken ages indeed, and the knees of her jeans were sodden already.

Without wasting time, she then went ahead to shred all ingredients into tiny pieces until they were a mere blended dust of the same piercing ultramarine as the Haramith itself. So far so good. Before she handed the jar with the mixture to Snape however, she filled a small amount of the dust into the now empty vial, closing it up tightly before she sorted it into a shelf inside her backpack. When she rose to her feet again, Snape shot her a questioning look while she handed him the jar at last.

"I just thought in case this actually works, or even in case it doesn't, it would be nice to have a reference for the next time either way." She shrugged, holding onto the straps of her backpack that she'd placed back over her shoulders. "There's always something to improve on, you know…"

He quirked an eyebrow at her with a not-smirk, holding her gaze for a moment before he finally placed the jar on a rock next to him, then flipped her book open at the marked page that described the tracing spell. It was an uncommon charm, woven together quite messily at the first glance, but it was the best one Robin had found. Snape made quick work of it, speaking the foreign words so easily as if for the millionth time, and Robin couldn't help being mesmerized by the bright blue dust that rose up into the air in a faint line upon the sound of his voice. It was working… bloody hell, it was actually working!

Robin followed the line in the sky with her eyes up to the point where it faded in the distance, then she looked back to Snape with an excited smile. "Ready for a little walk?"

"I am right behind you."

… … …

Walking they did then, following the blue line that faded behind them only to grow longer in front of them in return. Wherever it was leading, their destination was further away than anticipated. After three hours of scrambling through the sheer endless grass and rock, it finally started to rain as if the skies had turned into a waterfall, and they decided to take a break under a small ledge. It wasn't much, but the driest space they had been able to find before hell broke loose. To Robin's great luck, the tracing spell seemed to be entirely unbothered by the train, as the powdery line still remained hanging in the air as clear and smoky as ever. But what use would its persistence be if water in their eyes made it impossible to follow? Even more impossible without getting hurt out there. Thus a break it was, to wait for the worst to pass. It shouldn't take more than a few minutes… the weather in Scotland never stayed the same for long.

The long walk had taken a toll on both of them already, as neither was used to this kind of exercise, but Robin was too determined to see this through, too stubborn to admit that she was exhausted, and she assumed Snape simply was too proud to. It didn't matter either way, she was only glad to be sitting on the insulated blanket that she'd placed on the ground now, and Snape seemed to be equally appreciating of it as he sat next to her with a more or less content expression. Robin still couldn't quite believe that he was actually putting up with all this for her theory. Perhaps even for her as a person. And he seemed to be enjoying himself even!

Sighing quietly in contentment, Robin leaned back against the cold stones behind her and watched the rain. Yes, she was enjoying this. More than she could put into any words.

"I would like to think that the sound of the rain is the universe applauding us." She said instead, with a small smile at the wall of water before she looked over at Snape next to her. "Rain is so full of life, I don't know why people won't appreciate it more."

"Most people see the world differently than you do."

"What about you? Do you see it differently?"

"I used to believe it to be a terribly unfair place. Cold and cruel and indifferent to those who live in it."

Robin's heart squeezed together in a stab of sadness. She hadn't meant to upset him… but the longer she observed his expression, the more she got the impression that he was still calm and content as before. Curious. "You used to believe that? And… what do you believe now?"

"I don't know. The world will always be indifferent to us, but I am not so certain I still stand behind the rest of it."

"Well, it certainly is cold now… With the rain and wind and all that." Robin mused with a small smile, giving him a look that hopefully conveyed lighthearted humor better than her words did. Indeed, a hint of a smile graced his lips in return, and she decided to go on. "But when I think of the laboratory, for example… a crackling red in the fireplace, mixing with the faint bubbling of whatever potion we're making that day and the sound of your voice when you're annoyed with me, but also a silence made of softest velvet. It smells like coffee and books and fire and stone and all the subtle nuances in the potions' fumes. We sit at the table and wait and read and drink coffee and talk, until the next step has to be taken. When I think of that… the world, to me, is nothing but warmth."

A moment of silence followed upon her words, a thoughtful and contemplating silence, which was only broken when the rain lessened and Snape replied at last. "Perhaps you are what renders it warm."

It? The lab? The world? Her own perception? "Perhaps." She replied. Perhaps, his world as well. She shook the thought out of her head as soon as it appeared. Wrong direction to go into, and the wrong time to do so as well. They were here to work. Not to dwell on impossibilities.

_____________________________

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[marshmallow-phd]

Catching Rain

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Minseok x Reader

Summary: You were more than satisfied with your life. You attended a nice college, had nice friends, a nice boyfriend. That’s what your life was: nice. You weren’t looking for anything more, so what were you to do when this seemingly harmless boy walked into your life and turned your nice little world into one much more dangerous?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I Epilogue

**

Junmyeon stared at him for a few blinks. Awkwardness washed over Minseok as he ran a hand through his hair. Maybe saying it out loud was a mistake. Maybe he should have tried seeing you as a human first, just to make sure that the pull was real and not some weird effect of running for so long. Maybe the trees were giving off a weird perfume that messed with his head. 

“Y-you think you found her?” Junmyeon stammered. “How? Where?”

“In the woods, just now when I was out with the others,” Minseok answered. 

Junmyeon scratched the top of his head. “Wow. That’s, um… that’s convenient.”

Minseok scoffed. “Sure. It could be. Except that I was a wolf.

“Oh.” 

Neither spoke for a minute or two. Minseok tapped his foot against the worn boards of his bedroom. He was tempted to tell Junmyeon never mind, to forget it and that he’d figure it out on his own – then go ask Jongdae for his advice. He was easier to talk to.

But a part of Minseok knew that wouldn’t be helpful. Given Jongdae’s reservations on the whole “mate” ordeal, his advice might not be the answer. “Ignore it” wasn’t exactly the best route to go down. 

“So, you just need to meet her in person?”

Minseok looked over at the alpha, a bit surprised. Yeah, that would make sense. That would probably be the best way to solve all of this. You meet him in person, feel the pull yourself, problem solved. He nodded. 

“Did she give you any hint of what her name is or any other clue as to how we can find her again?”

Minseok was unable to hold back the flinch at Junmyeon’s question. There was a moment’s hesitation before he reached under the pillow and pulled out your notebook. He really, really hoped this didn’t come across as creepy or inappropriate. “She accidentally left this behind,” he explained. He flipped open to the cover where what could only be your name was displayed. 

“That’s a good start,” Junmyeon smiled encouragingly. Taking the notebook and securing it under the crook of his arm, he stood up from the bed. “It might be a long shot, but we can see if she’s a student at the university.”

Minseok jumped up. “Really?”

Junmyeon nodded, patting the older wolf on the back. “Being a professor has its privileges.”

Rolling his eyes, Minseok headed for the door. “Let’s just go and search the records, Professor Kim.”

**

“I really shouldn’t be doing this.” 

“This was your own suggestion!” Minseok snapped. They were already in his office, Junmyeon in his chair with the registry search already pulled up on the screen. Now was when he decided to start questioning his own plan? 

“I know, I know,” Junmyeon grumbled. “But now that I’m doing it, I feel like I’m crossing a line. I’m a brand new professor, I could get in serious trouble by using the registry for personal use.”

Minseok felt only a tiny bit of sympathy. Besides, a lie as to why he was looking up a particular student would be easy to make. “If the stories are true, then it’s worth it.”

Junmyeon’s hands hovered over the keyboard before he could type in the name. “You mean, the stories of what could happen after you find your mate?”

“Yeah…. Those ones scare me.”

“Hey.” Junmyeon turned in his chair and clapped a hand on Minseok’s shoulder. The latter looked over, anxiety more than apparent in his eyes. “It’ll be alright. Mates rarely ever reject their wolves. Besides, who would ever want to reject the smart and handsome Kim Minseok?”

To his horror, Minseok actually felt his face heat up from the compliment. He shoved Junmyeon’s hand away. “Stop it.”

Fairly pleased with himself, Junmyeon went back to typing in your name, snickering to himself. 

“Alright,” Junmyeon sighed after clicking through several, somewhat unnecessary, search criteria. He hit the desk with his palm, very pleased indeed. “She is a student here. With the Fine Arts College.”

Minseok leaned in closer and confirmed with his own eyes that the ID photo on the school’s site matched who he saw in the clearing. By now, he was sure he’d know that smile anywhere. He just needed to learn about the rest of you. “That explains why she was out in the woods taking pictures.”

“Ah, a photographer.” Junmyeon smiled brightly with a twinge of mischief. “The others will have fun with that.”

“Can we not tell the others?” Minseok asked quietly. They’d already lied and said that they were headed to the university for “emergency meetings” with students. The pack hardly cared, murmuring “see you later”s as the two eldest members walked out the door. As much as the others would deny it, keeping secrets from them wasn’t as hard as they thought. 

It wasn’t that they didn’t care. They were family. If something was wrong, they were there for each other. Despite what had happened in the past… well, they were a pack. They would listen and help - after a few jokes from the peanut gallery. 

“They’ll figure it out eventually.”

Minseok nodded. “I know. But I’d rather have this whole thing figured out before they catch whiff of it. This is stressful enough without their antics.”

“That’s… accurate.” Junmyeon laughed a bit to himself at the thought. “Alright. I’ll keep it to myself. Besides, what harm could come from keeping this a secret?”

Relief helped Minseok relax his shoulders, the burden eased just a tiny bit. “Exactly. Now, though I’m sure I’ll regret it later because of how stalkerish it sounds, what’s her schedule?”

The next morning, Minseok was full of confidence. He was dressed much better than his normal laid back, might have just rolled out of bed, might have just come from the gym style. The guys always made fun of him for eighty percent of his closet being athletic wear, but he preferred being in clothes he could move in. 

Today, well, he could still move in these jeans and the T-shirt was breathable, at least. Armed with the knowledge that you would have to cross this part of the campus to get to your morning class, Minseok leaned up against one of the trees littering the courtyard and waited. His watch slowly ticked the seconds by. Each little tock sent his heart racing faster. He was going to see you in person, as a human this time. Would the pull be different? Stronger? There wasn’t any other way to know until he saw you. 

And there you were. 

With slow, almost heavy steps, you made your way down the sidewalk. Your eyes were unfocused. Okay, that must mean you were preoccupied. Something was weighing you down. He almost chickened out, telling himself that maybe he should try another time when you didn’t seem so downcast. 

The wolf in his chest, mostly dormant up until now, growled at him. That second part of his nature wasn’t usually pushy like this. Before the clearing, the wolf only showed up when Minseok’s frustration was getting the better of him. And that was usually Baekhyun’s fault. Right now, though, the wolf was pushing him to go forward with the plan, barking and clawing to get what it wanted. Because who knew when another good chance like this would happen?

Alright. Minseok gave in. After running his hands through his hair - a nervous fidget - he replaced his ball cap and strutted out to put his plan into action. 

**

You were two seconds away from screaming. Or throwing something. Or a combination of the two. 

Last night you hadn’t thought much about it, but this morning an idea came to you for an upcoming project in one of your classes and you wanted to write it down before it left you for good. Only problem? Your notebook was missing. 

You tore through every pocket of your bag, became a tornado around your dorm, and even crawled around your car like a toddler to try and find it. But there was only one sorry conclusion you could come up with on its whereabouts: the clearing.

Whimpering, you sat down on the asphalt next to your open car door. Every possible scenario ran through your head. The dew from the grass ruined the pages and ran the ink, making every note illegible. A rabbit taking it back to use for its nest. That wolf making the leather binding its new favorite chew toy. 

You laughed to yourself at that last thought. Do wild wolves even like chewing on things like their domesticated brethren? Then again, that wolf was an odd one. Given his behavior at coming across you in the clearing, you weren’t sure the ordinary rules of nature counted for him. 

One last sigh and you picked yourself up from the ground. For now, you would have to put off going back to the clearing. Class started soon and you couldn’t really afford to miss it. You threw your bag over your shoulder and used your foot to shut the car door before clicking the fob and activating the locks. The beep-beep told you that all was secure so you headed towards the main campus. 

The stress you were feeling seemed to be manifesting itself on the faces of the commuting students around you. Or, really, they were just as stressed as you were, since that was current college life. Though their own source of stress was probably vastly different from your own. How were you going to tell Erik that you’d lost your notebook? He was attentive about those kinds of things. Soon he would ask where it went or why you hadn’t used it in a while. Hopefully, it would still be in the clearing with only a minuscule amount of water damage and you wouldn’t have to come up with some lie as to how you lost it. The truth would only cause a fight that you would prefer to avoid. 

“Oomph!”

Your shoulder suddenly crashed into a solid object, bringing you out of your thoughts. The sound of paper flopping through the air made you flinch.

“I am so sorry!” Still not looking at whatever poor soul you ran into, you crouched down and started to help shuffle together the insane amount of worksheets. 

“It's alright, really.” 

“No, I should have….” You looked up and nearly gasped. 

Meeting the eyes of the person you’d ran into sent your head spinning. The world seemed to be tilting back and forth as if it were on a teeter-totter. Your breath caught in your throat. Never had you seen this person before. There was no rational explanation for why you were having this sort of reaction. Not even the handsome leads in the dramas you watched caused your heart to beat this fast.

Staring back at you were irises that were the deepest brown eyes you’d ever had the pleasure of connecting with. You were mere inches from the round yet straight nose and the wide, shining smile that revealed its owner’s pearly teeth. Though focused on the face, you could make out a fitted black tee and jeans snug tight. 

“Been paying attention,” you finished lamely and awkwardly.

“No, I was in too much of a hurry,” the man countered. Or, boy? You weren’t entirely sure. He had a timeless face, the kind that could both easily make him a tenured professor or be asked for his ID at the liquor store. 

“I’m sorry. Here.” You held out your poorly stacked papers out for him. “I don’t make you anymore late.”

“No! No, I-I’m not in a hurry!” he stammered. “I just… I just usually walk really fast. Having friends that are eighty-five percent legs created the habit.”

You laughed, nearly snorting out your nose between giggles at the joke. The muscles in your legs were screaming at you for how long you’d forced them to stay crouched, but you ignored them. To you, it was like time had momentarily paused. If you stood up or broke eye contact, then the clock would tick on again. 

Guilt yanked you back into reality. You shouldn’t be reacting like this, thinking like this when you were committed to someone else. Clearing your throat, you pushed yourself up and broke the stare. Time started forward again. 

“I, um, I should get going.” Yes. Yes, you should be getting to class. So, then, why were your feet refusing to comply?

The smile on his face didn’t dim as he, too, straightened up. “Right. You probably have class. I won’t keep you, but… I’m Minseok.” He held his hand out for you to take. 

You hesitated a moment and then metaphorically shook your head. It was just a friendly handshake. Hardly cheating. Besides, you doubted you would see him again on this big campus. “(y/n).” 

As soon as your palm met his, a strange heat or electricity ran up your arm, causing you to jump back in surprise. Minseok also seemed surprised by the charge. 

Almost nervously, he laughed, “Static electricity is always a shock, isn’t it?”

“Ha!” You slammed a hand over your mouth as soon as the sound escaped. You should not have laughed at the pun. Trying but certainly failing, you covered the laugh with a pathetic cough. “It was nice to meet you, Minseok. I hope you have a good day.” You hurried down the sidewalk, barely catching his confused response.

“You… too.”

You didn’t stop until you made it inside the building, shuffling over to the side so you weren’t blocking the entrance. Back against the painted cement blocks that made up the wall, you forced your thoughts to cohesively straighten out. 

This was a college. Funny, attractive boys were a dime a dozen here. Erik was one of them, no offense to him. You liked your funny and cute college boy. From your brief interaction, you didn’t see anything different or special about that Minseok. So why was your heart still refusing to calm down? You placed a hand over your chest as if that would put it back to normal. Taking the risk, you peeked out the glass doors, but the sidewalk you’d run into him was now empty. 

Who was that boy?

A valid question, but one for which you were not going to actively pursue an answer for. Going forward, you were going to put the boy out of your head and move on with your life, leaving it nothing but a random encounter without consequence or side effects. 

But as you headed down the hall to your classroom, something told you that this was nowhere near the end.

[brandyllyn]

In our own image... (26)

Chapter 26

(Poe Dameron x OFC)

Other chapters... My Masterlist

Word count: 2k. Read it on AO3.

Rating: Teen & Up (PG) language.

"I’m not sure that fucker deserves her."

BB-8 spun in place, flickering their lights to red to show their displeasure. "Will you please watch your language? That is my Friend you are speaking of."

K-0 rocked in place, tilting their sensor array. "Your friend is an ass."

If BB-8 had lungs they would have sighed at that. They vastly preferred when K-0 communicated in Basic. With the language filters on, it was much easier to ignore the Binary and focus on the words. That way they didn’t have to listen to the little droid call Poe things such as 'ass' or 'motherfucker'. Instead, it was simply 'Bad man' which was simpler and also no where near as insulting.

BB-8 could see Poe and Kina talking to each other across the bay. Even to the droid’s sensors it was clear the two still had feelings for each other. If they could only get K-0 onboard they were sure they could fix whatever it was that had driven their two friends apart.

"Friend Poe cares for Friend Kina," BB-8 tried again. "So do I. I believe they were confused before but are not any longer."

K-0 dipped sideways. "Kina likes him, for what reason I cannot fucking imagine. But I will not let that bantha-shitter hurt her again."

Flashing a set of mocking indicators BB-8 said, "Did I not see you let Friend Poe pet you?"

"I did not," K-0 replied vehemently. "I was simply testing his response times to see if he was truly better."

BB-8 gave a trill but did not pursue the matter. They needed K-0 on their side if they were going to make this work. "Whatever your reason, I believe we both agree that our Friends are unhappy apart, yes?"

"Yes," came K-0’s grudging reply.

"And we have limited time in which to affect a reconciliation. After we return to base, we will lose this chance."

K-0 nodded. "You’re not wrong, even if you are ass-ugly."

BB-8 ignored the last comment. "I have an idea. But we’re going to need everyone’s help." As they laid out their plan, BB-8 could see that the smaller droid became more interested, even pointed out a couple of things they had not thought of. And when K-0 realized that their role was to wreak havoc, BB-8 began to worry about the pleased flicker of the droid’s lights.

Mission set, BB-8 went to find Rey first. She was in the cockpit with Chewbacca which was helpful as BB-8 could talk to them together.

"Friend Rey I have something to ask of you." Rey smiled at them and BB-8 twirled happily. Other than Poe, Rey was perhaps their favorite person.

"What do you need?"

BB-8 outlined their plan, carefully watching the human’s face. They had been programmed well to read most human emotions and could see confusion give way to interest and then amusement.

"Did you come up with this by yourself Beeb?"

BB-8 twirled. "K-0 helped, but it was my idea. Do you like it?"

Rey nodded. "I think it might work. Chewie, are you in?"

"I do not like deceit," the Wookie rumbled and BB-8 flashed their lights anxiously.

"You do not need to deceive, Friend Chewbacca. You can retire early and not be a part of the plan." Chewbacca nodded and BB-8 let out a relieved whistle. "Thank you. I must find Finn."

"Wait," Rey called and BB-8 turned back. "When is this starting?"

"K-0 has already begun the shutdown."

Rey laughed and BB-8 spun in place. "You were pretty certain we’d go along weren’t you?"

Tilting slightly, BB-8 flashed their light blue. "We were prepared to conduct this plan without you if necessary. But your help will make things much easier."

They found Finn in the cargo bay. Unfortunately, he was with Poe which was not optimal. BB-8 spun in place, computing possible outcomes. Just when they were considering causing an alarm of some kind they saw K-0 darting across the hangar. They could not hear what K-0 said but soon enough Finn was following the other droid and BB-8 ducked around the wall and waited until the door slid closed behind him.

"Friend Finn! Please wait I need to speak with you."

The man stopped and looked down at the two droids, eyebrows raised. "What do you two want? You looking for Poe?"

"Friend Finn we have a plan and need your cooperation."

"He’s right in here," Finn said, reaching for the door panel. BB-8 quickly moved between him and it, forcing the man to back away.

"He can’t understand you dumbass."

BB-8 flashed an angry red light at K-0 and then looked up at Finn. "My apologies Friend Finn, I forgot about your shortcoming. Please follow me." They rolled a few feet and looked back, waiting for Finn to follow. Obviously confused, the man did.

"Where is this parade heading?"

BB-8 skidded to a stop at the sound of her voice. Oh no, not Kina. Frantic, they started to say something but K-0 beat them to it.

"Kina help?"

Kina instantly focused on the small droid. "What do you need K-0?"

K-0 rocked back and forth with a slight wobble. "Problem. Kina help?" The droid was really a lot nicer to listen to in Basic.

The two left and BB-8 let out a small relieved beep before leading Finn to the cockpit and ensuring the door shut behind him.

"What’s this?’ Finn asked, looking at Rey. "What do you need?"

Rey smiled at him and then gestured at BB-8. "It’s not us, it’s all BB."

"Friend Rey please tell Friend Finn the plan. He does not understand me."

Rey grinned at them and relayed the information to Finn. BB-8 watched the man’s eyes go wide and then a huge grin spread across his face. "That is a great idea Beebs."

Pleased, BB-8 spun a little and then dipped their top unit. "Thank you for thinking so, it will take some help, are you able?"

"Of course I am," Finn tapped them gently. "I don’t know if I’d take a blaster bolt for you little buddy but I got your back."

"I would not ask you to do such a thing Friend Finn."

BB-8 rocked anxiously as the crew sat down to dinner. According to their sensors the temperature onboard had already dropped ten degrees. They could see Kina was absently rubbing her hands over her arms.

"I am retiring," stated Chewbacca abruptly, standing up so quickly that he nearly overturned the table. When he passed BB-8 he gave the droid a nod and BB-8 nodded back.

"Are you cold?" Poe asked Kina and BB-8 gave a low pleased whistle. They looked and saw  Rey give them a small thumbs up from where she was sitting with Finn.

"Yeah, a little," Kina replied, hands rubbing her arms. "It’s getting chilly in here."

"I noticed," Poe said, leaning over the back of the bench and coming back with a thick blanket and carefully wrapping it around Kina’s shoulders. She laid her hand on his and they stared at each other for long enough that BB-8 began to wonder if their plan was even necessary. That was until Poe said "I’ll go check on the environmental systems."

BB-8 followed Poe to the cockpit, settling nearby while Poe brought up the controls.

"Beebs can you check on the heating system for me?"

"Of course Friend Poe," BB-8 replied. The system looked exactly like it should - zero power.  For just a moment BB-8 appreciated the work that K-0 had done - re-routing various systems and processes until it was a maze of faults and issues. Even knowing what they were looking at, it still took BB-8 a few moments to map the havoc the droid had wreaked. "All power to the heating units have been suspended."

"What do you mean suspended?" Poe looked down at BB-8 and the droid felt a small stab of anxiety. They did not like deceiving Poe.

"I am searching the systems now." True. "It seems there has been a fault in the power conduits." Also true. "I am attempting to re-route." True but also… BB-8 was purposefully only trying things they knew wouldn’t work. "Friend Poe I believe this will require a full reset of the power conduits."

"A full reset?" Poe’s brows drew together in a look BB-8 knew to mean their Friend was thinking. "But that would take hours."

"I am afraid so Friend Poe."

Poe sighed, "Well, not like I was planning on doing anything else."

No! This was not the plan. BB-8 ran through several million computations quickly. "Friend Poe, I do not believe that would be safe for you. Without the environmental systems the heating on Friend Falcon will not be enough to maintain life."

Poe’s eyebrows rose and he lifted his hands to blow on them. "Are you saying we’re going to freeze to death?"

"I am rerouting power from the weapons systems, not all of it!" BB-8 corrected quickly when they saw Poe’s frown. "I can turn on some heating in the berths. Enough to sustain livable conditions."

"A cold night’s sleep and wake up to a warm ship again?" Poe sighed. "Not the worst plan I guess. Are you sure about this buddy?"

"I am sure."

"Thanks," Poe said, running a hand along BB-8’s sensor array and BB-8 felt the tingle of the electrical pulses through their system. As soon as Poe was out of sight BB-8 disengaged from the ship and followed at a distance.

Kina was alone in the commons when Poe returned and BB-8 was pleased to see that Rey and Finn had done their part of the plan.

"The others went to their bunks, said it had been a long day which… true." Kina said with a shrug, holding the blanket tight to her.

"Smart people," Poe snorted. "There’s a problem with the heating. Beebs is going to do a reboot of the system but it’s a lot of waiting around. In the meantime, he’s routing what he can to the bunks."

"Ah," Kina leaned her head back. "So it’s not just me?"

Poe tucked his hands into his armpits. "No, it’s really knifing cold in here."

Laughing, Kina stood and BB-8 quickly backed away and into the corridor that led to the cockpit. From here they could hear but not see the people.

"I can hear Chewbacca snoring," Kina whistled. "Calling dibs on not that bunk."

"You’re cruel," said Poe.

BB-8 heard the door to one of the berths open and then there was a beat of silence.

"Poe?"

"Yeah?"

"Looks like neither of us will be sleeping with Chewbacca."

"What do you mea-oh. Huh."

"They must not have been thinking. They must have just gone back to their same bunks - we slept together the last two nights."

"We did?"

"Not like that."

BB-8 heard Poe laugh and cautiously looked around the corner. Kina and Poe were standing looking at the empty triple bunks in the berth. The other sleeping compartment was the same - but with three people missing they had correctly deduced the other berth was full.

"You can have the top bunk," Poe said, gesturing Kina inside and BB-8 saw her smile at him before she entered. BB-8 watched until both disappeared. As soon as the door slid shut they whistled out to K-0 to turn the heat back on for the ship. There was no need to freeze out all of their friends. Just the two they were invested in.

Organic creatures craved contact with each other. And if those two were not going to engage in it naturally, BB-8 would assure that they were driven to it.

Chpt 27

[carnalpleasure]

Part 2 of hospital!jim x reader 🏩 i didnt plan on writing a part two so lets see where this goes!!

warnings: drug mention, hospital mention, lots of angst?

Cupid & Psych

You and Jim spent the rest of the night talking. He filled you in on what life was like in Palos Verdes. It was vastly different from your life in Santa Monica, even though the cities were only 40 minutes away from each other.

You chose to live in Santa Monica though. Poor Jim never had a choice when his parents moved him and his twin sister to the most stuck up city in LA county. The locals guarded their beaches more fiercely than wolf packs guard their territory. A rabid wolf wouldn’t stand a chance against a PV soccer mom.

Santa Monica was the polar opposite. It proudly shared its shore with the misfits of Venice Beach. They had everything from ferris wheels and roller coasters to freak shows and street performers. The residents were just as unique and eccentric as the city.

Almost every building was covered in street art. Some of it legal, most of it not. But all of it was beautiful to you. That’s why you chose to run away here.

But restarting your life didn’t bring you the kind of excitement and freedom you thought it would. No matter where you moved, your demons packed their emotional baggage and came too. And that’s how you ended up in the emergency room of the UCLA Health Center.

Jim talked for hours about his adventures with the Bay Boys. They were his only escape from his hellish home life. He idolized a few of them. Not just for their surfing skills, but for their freedom and their pride.

They didn’t care when some pissed off old people started yelling at them to get off the cliffs. Or when angry locals threatened to call the cops on them for playing their music too loud. They didn’t worry, they just flipped them off and partied harder.

But the best thing about hanging with the boys? They always had something around to take the edge off. Liquor, pills, weed, it didn’t matter. He wanted to try it all. And he did. And that’s how he ended up in the emergency room of the UCLA Health Center.

You’d had plenty of your own experiences with drugs. Anyone could walk down the Venice strip and easily meet some old hippie holding shrooms, acid, oxy... whatever the vice, it could be found in Venice. So for every shameful drug induced story he shared with you, you had one to match. And he was so relieved to have someone he could relate to.

The two of you quickly came to realize how many similarities you shared. You were the same age, although he was a few months older. You both loved being in the ocean, even in the winter. You both had neurotic moms and absent dads who preferred their new families. You were both young, lost, alone, and looking for a way out.

Your family was just as dysfunctional as his. Chaos had always surrounded your home like a curse and you got away from there the first chance you got. And now you avoided them like a virus.

But Jim wasn’t so lucky. Tomorrow he would be going back home to take care of his manic depressive mother. And he’d have to put on a brave face for his sister, even though he thought she was so much stronger than he was.

“She has it hard too,” his said with a frown. “My mom treats her like shit.. because she’s young, I guess?” he shrugged, sighing softly. “I don’t know. But it’s different. My mom puts pressure on her to look nice. Yeah, that sucks. But she’s got me doing everything with her now,” he groaned.

You were both lying in your beds now. There was barely a foot of space separating the beds, but you were both lying on the very edges, as close as you could possibly get to each other.

He was lying curled up in a relaxed fetal position, his face resting comfortably on the pillow and his hands tucked under. And you were lying on your side, propped up on your elbow to get a better view of him.

You were mindlessly playing with your hair, running your hands through the length of it and curling it around your fingers. You didn’t notice yourself doing it, but he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

You could see his eyes getting sleepy now. His blinks becoming slower, more drawn out as he fought to keep them open. Neither of you wanted to fall asleep tonight. It was like an unspoken agreement. You just kept taking turns talking to try to keep each other up.

“It’s not easy being.. Mommy’s Favorite,” he said sarcastically, cringing at the name and pouting.

“It’s like a full time fucking job.. all these new responsibilities. I’m paying bills and balancing checkbooks and I don’t even know what the fuck I’m doing.”

You could see him getting worked up. He was talking faster, his brows furrowed, and his bottom lip trembled. There was so much anger in his eyes but he looked like he just wanted to cry.

“I’m not ready,” his voice cracked.

Without thinking, you immediately got up from your bed and crawled into his. He slid back to make room for you, holding the lightweight blanket open until you were safely tucked away under it with him.

He pulled you into his arms from behind and you curled into his body. He broke down the instant he got his arms around you. You could hear his quiet sobs as he buried his face in your neck. You could feel his tears softly rolling down your skin.

He was holding you so tight, his whole body formed to match the curve of yours. You turned to roll over so you could face him. He quickly hid his face in your chest, and you held it close, running your fingers through his hair and up and down his neck softly.

That seemed to soothe him pretty quick. After a few minutes of lying with his head pressed to your chest, listening to your heartbeat, feeling your fingertips on his skin.. his breathing relaxed and his tears stopped.

The feeling of your fingertips brushing against his skin made him feel better than any high. You kissed the top of his head and he thought his heart was going to burst through his chest.

When he finally got all the tears out, his eyes fluttered up at you to gauge your reaction. He’d never cried in front of a girl before, besides his sister. He was basically trained to put on a happy face all the time and never show any unpleasant emotions. He almost felt mortified for letting you see him like that.

You just smiled down at him lovingly and let him wrap himself around you. His legs intertwined with yours and he rested his head on your chest. He closed his eyes, and you thought he might finally drift off to sleep. But he took a deep breath and quietly continued.

“She keeps calling me the man of the house.” He sounded so sad the way he said it. He needed to vent and you were the first person he felt comfortable enough sharing any of this with.

He couldn’t even talk like this with Medina anymore. She didn’t treat him the same anymore. She treated him more like a kid. It felt like she was always judging him now. For his choices, his habits, his friends. He always felt like he disappointed her.

“Really-“ he hesitated before finishing his thought, looking up at you nervously. You kissed the tip of his nose and that was more than enough to comfort him. “Really.. I think she’s just using me as a stand in for the husband she can’t let go of..”

He said it so quietly. There was fear in his eyes. It was the first time he’d ever admitted it to himself or to anyone. He could never say it out loud because it made him feel so guilty to think about his mom that way.

You ran your fingers lazily up and down his back, dragging your nails gently. You just wanted to take his mind off everything somehow. Give him a distraction. A different feeling to focus on.

His hospital gown was loosely tied at the top. You tugged on one of the strings until the knot unraveled and the back of his gown fell open, exposing his sun-kissed skin.

His muscles were firm and toned from all the paddling against the waves. Yet his skin was baby soft. He had freckles all across his back and shoulders. You traced your fingers over the little constellations, playing connect the dots with his beauty marks.

Your fingertips trailed lazily across his shoulders and down his spine. He just signed, easing in to the feeling of your touch. Resting his head comfortably on your breasts and nuzzling his face into them. He closed his eyes and a little yawn escaped his lips.

“Go to sleep, Jimmy,” you whispered tenderly in his ear before placing a soft kiss on his temple. He smelt like vanilla.

“I don’t wanna leave you,” he whimpered into your chest, shaking his head.

It melted your heart and then broke it. You’d been avoiding thinking about it all night, but the sky was already getting lighter out. You were going to be split up in just a few hours. As much as you wanted to hope for a happy ending, you didn’t expect this prince to come back for you.

You were still searching for something to say back when you felt his arms tighten around your waist. “Stay with me,” his voice was soft, almost fragile.

You had to say something to soothe him but you didn’t want to lie to him either. It physically hurt you to see how much he needed someone to love him. And god, you would’ve been the best at it.

If you had met each other under normal circumstances, you would’ve dated. Fallen in love. Made a family of your own together. And you’d never fuck it up. Your kids would be happy.

You may have been given a second chance at life, but you weren’t that lucky.

“I’m right here, baby. You can go to sleep, I’m right here,” you carefully assured him. You kissed the top of his head and brushed your fingers tenderly across his cheek. He nestled into your chest and your steady heartbeat slowly lulled him right to sleep.

But you didn’t dare fall asleep that night. You were in bed with an angel and you were going to cherish every last moment you had with him.

He’d spent the first few days watching you sleep, falling for you before he ever got to know you. And now here he was, spending his last few hours sleeping in your arms.

You couldn’t help but feel like Juliet, holding her late lover’s body for the last time. And you could understand now why she drove a dagger through her heart right after.

She was right. Parting is such sweet sorrow.

💕taglist: @sexwon131 @jimmason @whatcodysaid @theneverendinghunger @angelicmichael @thewarriorprincessxo (lemme know if u wanna be removed! xo)

[hashtagartistlife]

and then there were none

Ichigo Kurosaki, college student, gets roped into a dorm game with a long tradition and finds it a little more than he bargained for. Kuchiki Rukia, college student, has never done anything by halves-- and that includes stupid traditional dorm welcoming games. The r.a.s regret the day they placed her knife in his hands.

There was a tumblr post going around that I can no longer find about a welcoming game at an American college dormitory. The basic idea behind it was that everyone in the dorms get a plastic knife with someone else's name on it, and they had to find that person and 'stab' them with the knife (just a simple touch was counted as valid) to 'murder' them. The 'victim' is then out of the game, and they had to hand over their own plastic knife to their 'murderer'. Whoever is on the 'victim's plastic knife was the new victim for the 'murderer'.

My first instinct upon seeing anything vaguely amusing is always 'make it ichiruki'. So here's the fic about it.

(There's two chapters planned, and please don't ask me when the next chapter will be up, it's not high on my priority list. But it WILL come, some day. I don't make it a habit to abandon fic, even though sometimes it seems like I have. Promise.)

___________________________________________________________

So, college dorms were pretty wild. 

For small-town Karakura boy Kurosaki Ichigo, living in a co-ed dorm at a university in America has been nothing short of an eye-opening experience. There are people walking around barefeet in only a towel. Some girl set off the smoke alarm because she was cooking cup noodles in the bathroom at 2am. He’s pretty sure he’s heard his dormmates having sex through the walls on more than one occasion, and the food served at the cafeteria is only edible about half the time. All in all, it’s a little bemusing, but not at all unpleasant, and by the third week of his move he thinks he’s settling in ok. His room is mostly in order, and he’s made at least passing acquaintances with the people on his floor. His English is improving at a frankly astonishing speed, and classes don’t start till next week. He’s figured out which stall in the bathroom spits out the most reliable hot water, and he really thinks he’s got a good handle on this whole ‘dorm living’ thing—

that is, until he gets back to his dorm room one night to find a plastic knife shoved under his door. 

“The fuck…?” he mutters, trying to figure out if this was an American befriending ritual, or maybe someone was just attempting to threaten him (badly)? Did his room look like a trashcan? Did Chad (he thinks that was his name) from room 209 remember what he said about not having a grasp on American cutlery yet and decide to help him in a subtle way? 

He raps on the door next to his, and a muffled voice yells ‘who is it?’

“It’s Kurosaki from 206,” he replies, and the door cracks open to reveal a single brown eye and a strand of auburn hair. 

“Oh, hi, Kurosaki-kun!” Inoue Orihime from 207 was…. an odd girl. She liked putting parsley in her coffee and read astrophysics textbooks for fun. But Ichigo doesn’t remember her ever being this defensive— she’d always been enthusiastic about greeting people, so the way that she refuses to open her door more than an inch is uncharacteristic of her. “What’s wrong?”

“Well, I just got back from the library and there was this knife shoved under my door—”

At this, Inoue screams and slams her door shut; Ichigo is left more than a little bemused. “Inoue? What the hell— it’s only a plastic knife!” 

“I know that, Kurosaki-kun! As if I’m just going to let you win this— but by the way, this is terrible strategy, now I know to avoid you like the plague—”

“Strategy?! Inoue, what the fuck— wait, is this plastic knife meant to mean something? Is this some American etiquette thing? I have no idea what’s going on. Please explain to me what this knife means—”

Inoue opens her door a crack again, and looks at him suspiciously. 

“Wait, so you didn’t hear the murder announcement at breakfast today?” 

“Murder announcement?! Jesus FUCK, who died—”

“Nobody died, Kurosaki-kun, don’t be overdramatic—”

“AS FAR AS MY ENGLISH SKILLS GO, INOUE, MURDER MEANS SOMEBODY DIED—”

“Wow, you really don’t listen to the breakfast announcements at all, do you?” Inoue sounds supremely unimpressed, but at least she opens the door a bit further; except what the hell is she only wearing a towel—?!

“Inoue why the fuck are you only wearing a towel—”

Inoue waves her hand like that’s a negligible detail. “Just got out of the shower, but also murder strategy. You’re immune if you’re naked, and some of the second years recommended this. I’m in this to win, Kurosaki-kun, there’s a whole year’s supply of cup noodles in this for me—”

“Wait, what? Cup noodles?” That got his attention. Anything that scored him a whole year’s supply of free cup noodles was okay in his book. Questionable towel-wearing included. “Now you really gotta explain what’s going on.” 

“I should leave you to rot, one less person to compete against for me.” Inoue purses her lips. “But you were the first one to pour a bucket of water on that fire I started last week, so fine, I’ll let you in on the murder details.” 

“Not a sentence I thought I’d ever hear in my life, but cheers, America,” Ichigo mutters. 

“So basically, murder’s a game that the whole dorm plays every year,” Inoue starts explaining, and Ichigo’s still trying to get over the weirdness of the word murder being used so casually— “and everyone gets these plastic knives with someone’s name written on them, and the idea is you have to stab that person with the knife and ‘’’kill’’’ them. Then you get their knife, and you just keep killing people and collecting knives until you’re the last person left! Hmm, there were a couple of rules, you can’t kill someone in the dining room or their own rooms, and you’re immune if you’re naked, but I think that was it? Anyway. So yeah! That’s what’s going on here!” 

Ichigo squints at his knife in the half-dark of the corridor that, for some reason, has had all its lights screwed out. “Ok, that’s…. Great, I suppose? What happens if I don’t know who the person on my knife is?”

“Then you find out, Kurosaki-kun! This game was ostensibly devised so that we make friends, you know.”

“There are no friends when it comes to a year’s free supply of cup noodles,” Ichigo says, and Inoue claps her hands. 

“Precisely! You’re getting the hang of it now. Ergo, for the next week, I don’t know you, ok? Good luck!” 

Inoue slams her door shut, and Ichigo shuffles back to his room, feeling slightly more enlightened than before. 

But still— 

“Who the hell is Rukia Kuchiki?”

__________________________________________________________

By the second week of Murder, Ichigo’s seen enough naked butts to last him a lifetime. It seems that voluntary nakedness is a vastly preferable fate for many than losing a shot at a year’s supply of free cup noodles, and honestly if that doesn’t sum up the average college student mindset Ichigo doesn’t know what does. (He’d probably be a lot more judgemental about it, though, if he hadn’t spent at least a few hours earnestly contemplating the strategy himself.) 

Thankfully, he and Chad have an alliance of sorts that makes him wearing a towel round the place redundant. He’d enlisted the giant’s help in identifying his would-be target, and after ascertaining that he wasn’t the name on Chad’s knife either (Chad had one Asano Keigo as his victim, Ichigo only knows him as that guy who swallowed a whole tablespoon of cinnamon powder on a dare), the two of them had agreed to watch the other’s back. Chad was set to pull off his first attack tomorrow, but Ichigo still had no clue who or where Rukia Kuchiki was. 

Part of the problem was that the dorm was so friggin’ huge; there were four wings, each with five floors, and each floor had ten rooms. That was 200 potential students he had to parse through to find his victim, and it wasn’t exactly like he could go around asking people if they knew her. Murder had amped hostility on campus up by 300%, and almost nobody stopped for idle chatter anymore.

Whoever had devised this as a way of promoting friendliness and unity on campus was a giant fuckin’ moron. 

“Still no word on Kuchiki?” Chad asks, after another day of paranoia and stalking Asano to make sure the plan goes off without a hitch, and Ichigo shakes his head. 

“Are they even real at this stage? Are we sure I haven’t been given someone who doesn’t exist?” 

“Ghost student?” 

“Fuckin’ potentially? Who the fuck knows with America.”

Chad hides a smile behind his rickety old guitar and starts tuning. “I’ll ask around my bandmates tomorrow, if you’d like.” 

“Naw, s’alright. I don’t want word to get out that I’m looking for them. What kinda giant flashing beacon that says HEY, I’M YOUR POTENTIAL MURDERER, right?” 

“If you say so.” 

“I do.” Because dammit all, Ichigo’s serious about this thing. A whole year’s supply of cup noodles is no joking matter. Speaking of which, he wonders how Inoue is doing with her murders…

_______________________________________________________________

Inoue, as it turns out, is doing swimmingly. While Ichigo has done little more than sit around and twiddle his thumbs, Inoue has already racked up an impressive collection of plastic knives— three, she informs him that night, while cheerfully throwing him a celebratory can of leek soda (Ichigo gingerly sets it down behind her sofa when she's not looking). She was making good headway on her next victim, as well, and if all went according to plan she'd have her fourth knife tomorrow morning—

“But, you know, Kurosaki-kun,” she muses, sipping on her own can of beetroot soda (where did she get these concoctions from!?), “You're awfully cavalier about this whole thing. For all you know, you could be my next victim,but here you are, sitting on my couch. Or do you just not care about cup noodles?”

He snorts. “If you ever got ahold of my knife, I'm pretty sure I'd be dead before we even got to have this conversation.”

“True,” she concedes— credit where credit is due. “So nobody’s popped up to try to kill you yet?”

“Nope,” he replies, popping the p a little. Honestly, that was the only thing making him feel better about his complete inability to murder anyone— the fact that whoever had his knife was having just as much difficulty tracking him down. One week in, and he'd not seen hide nor hair of this Rukia Kuchiki person, and, big dorm or not, her (her? Ichigo assumes it's a girl, though Rukia is very unusual for a Japanese name) elusiveness is getting to be extremely impressive. “But Chad is watching my back for me anyway. I'm covered.”

“Hmm.” Inoue purses her lips. “That's a lot of faith in someone you've only known, for, what, three weeks?”

“Chad is trustworthy,” Ichigo says firmly. He stands and stretches up to the ceiling, stifling a yawn. “And speaking of Chad, I better get to bed. He's ambushing Asano tomorrow, I told him I'd be there for backup.”

Inoue waves. “Good luck to Sado-kun, then. I’m gonna stay up a bit to refine my own dastardly plans.”

He shakes his head and opens the door, peering out into the corridor to make sure the coast was clear. He and Inoue were literally next door neighbours, but you couldn't be too careful these days. “When you win this thing I'm gonna be expecting free noodles from you occasionally. Remember I stopped you from burning down the whole dorms last week.”

“I'll consider it.”

“‘Night, then.”

“Goodnight, Kurosaki-kun. Dream of Rukia Kuchiki tonight!”

“At this stage,” Ichigo mutters, as he slips back into his room, “anything to help me find out who the hell she is.”

_______________________________________________________

Drastic times call for drastic measures. The next morning, after a successful ambush on Asano (Chad is now +1 plastic knife; his new victim is called Yammy Llargo), Ichigo tracks down someone he'd been avoiding ever since his move to America and claps a hand on her shoulder. 

“Hey.” 

Arisawa Tatsuki whirls around and body-slams him into the ground. “Who the fuck do you think you— Ichigo?”

He winces. “Hi.”

Tatsuki puts her hands on her hips and does not offer him any help getting up. “Oh, so you're talking to me now?”

“I just said hi, didn't I?”

“You know, you're such a fucking asshole, did it ever occur in your pathetic little brain to apologise—”

“I'm sorry,” Ichigo mutters sullenly. “Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was also going to college in America, I'm sorry you found out only when you bumped into me at the dorm welcoming party, it's just that we had that whole farewell party for you and we had that touching goodbye and, look it's just awkward that I got a second round admissions letter the very next day, it's like saying bye to a friend and then finding out you're walking the same way to the carpark, ok, it’s embarrassing—”

“Oh my god, you drama queen. Were you ever planning on telling me? Ever? Your best friend since childhood?”

“... I might’ve planned to tell you at the beginning of the next semester by pretending I was on exchange,” he admits. Tatsuki throws her hands up in the air. 

“You were going to avoid me for a whole semester?!”

“Look, I didn't know I’d end up in the same dorm as you, ok? It's a big campus!”

“Un-be-lievable,” she says, turning on a heel and walking away from him. “You know what, keep ignoring me. Don’t hang out around here. I don’t want your incredible loser vibes accidentally rubbing off—” 

“I said sorry, didn’t I? Wait, wait, I had something to ask you!” 

“Sorry doesn’t pay my bills, Ichigo!” 

Ichigo catches up to her and falls into stride. “You don’t even pay bills! You’re on a full scholarship!”

Tatsuki manages a smug smile. “If you’re so jealous, maybe you should have kept up with karate.”

Ichigo grumbles. “Yeah, right, like I had a chance at a physical education scholarship with you in the same dojo.” 

“I’m glad you’re finally acknowledging my superiority—!”

“You beat my ass continuously from when we were six to sixteen, I threw away any pride I had a long damn time ago.” He makes a face at the memory, then shakes his head to refocus. “Anyway, this isn’t why I was here. Listen, have you heard of anyone around here called Rukia Kuchiki—?”

Tatsuki cocks her head to the side at that, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Kuchiki…? Name sounds familiar. Why?”

Ichigo feels his heart speed up in his chest. “What, really? Where did you hear it? Do you know her?” 

And now she was grinning again and— oh, no, Ichigo does not like the look of that smile. “Why do you want to know?” she asks, and the question is laden with suggestion. Ichigo flushes. 

“None of your damn busi— look, it’s not what you think—”

“Aw, my little mama’s boy Ichigo is all grown up, I remember when you used to go crying to your mom for a scraped knee and now you’re chasing after women—” 

“It’s for murder, you absolute pain in the butt! She’s my target!”

Tatsuki bursts out laughing, hearty peals of laughter bouncing off the courtyard walls. “Alright, alright, I get you. I was just teasing, Ichigo, geez. Anyway, the name sounds familiar, but that doesn’t mean I know her. I can’t remember where I’ve heard it before.”

Ichigo deflates as quickly as he’d been riled up. “Are you serious right now—?”

“Hey, you can talk, mister ‘I’m-really-bad-at-remembering-names-and-faces! And yeah, I’m serious. I don’t have a stake in murder anymore. I got killed two days in.”

Ok, that surprises him. He raises a skeptical eyebrow. “What, really? Who the hell did you in?”

“Some girl named Orihime Inoue,” she grumbles, kicking a nearby rock. “Tae-kwon-do black belt, apparently??? She doesn’t even look the type!” 

Ichigo makes a noise of sympathy and understanding. He should have guessed.

“Anyway, now I’m roped into helping her. So I don’t think I’d be able to tell you about Rukia Kuchiki, even if I’d known any more about her. Victims who are murdered have to help their murderer, and all.”

Ichigo frowns. “Wait, those are the rules?”

“That’s what Inoue said.” 

“............ I am about 95% sure that those were not part of murder rules.”

There’s a short silence between the two as they process this.

“...... scary girl,” Tatsuki finally says, in a grudgingly admiring tone.

“I’ll say.” 

The two of them stop their brisk walk in front of a huge pair of doors emblazoned with the words GYM, and Tatsuki waves him off. “Anyway, I gotta go train now. Any further questions before I go?”

Ichigo thinks a bit. “Yeah, why drama queen? Since I’m a guy, shouldn’t it be drama king?”

“Do I look like a linguist? You always scored better than I did at this stupid language. Take it up with whoever your hero was, Willy Shakealot or something?”

“Shakespeare,” he says sharply. “And Shakespeare wasn’t a linguist. In fact, I’m pretty sure linguists really hate him. He made up a lot of weird words and shit.”

“He did? Huh. Didn’t know you were allowed to do that.” 

“You’re not, Shakespeare just gave zero fucks.” Ichigo shrugs and takes a half-step back, raising his hand in a goodbye salute. “Why else do you think he was my hero?”

Tatsuki rolls her eyes. “Whatever. You’re still a loser.” 

“And you’re a bitch. Let me know if you remember anything about Kuchiki.”

“Only if we get to go halves on the cup noodles.” 

“I’ll think about it.”

“Then I’ll think about it, too.” 

That was probably the best he was going to get out of her. “Later, then.”

“If you can bear the embarrassment of us meeting again despite already having said goodbye, then sure.”

Ichigo shakes his head and lets her have that parting riposte. He hadn’t won a single match, verbal or physical, against Tatsuki since they’d been in diapers; he figures, what with the way his luck was going lately, that he wasn’t about to start now. 

__________________________________________________________

Just as Ichigo walks away, a tiny girl brushes past him on her way to the gym. Her black hair falls short and sleek, tickling her jawline and the nape of her neck, and the clean scent of cucumber and mint follows in her wake. She jostles him a little, bumping into his elbow, but Ichigo hardly notices the slight press of her body against his, small and light as she is. She mutters a hasty apology, and disappears into the building before he can formulate a reply. 

Ichigo shrugs and goes on his merry way. 

_______________________________________________________

The third week of murder brings about a calamitous change in the game as Ichigo knows it, due to several factors:

Orihime Inoue kills not one, not two, but three people in quick succession;

Someone finally stages an attack on him, but runs away without having completed the deed, and

Chad dies.

Not literally, of course, but Ichigo has to admit, the figurative loss still hits him pretty damn hard. Chad takes it as stoically as ever, with a shrug and twitch of his eyebrow, and goes back to working on music for his band. 

“Does anything faze you?” Ichigo wonders, after Chad hands his knife over to Inoue (because of course it was Inoue who took him out. Of course). 

“Puppies.”

“Fair enough.” 

“Kittens, too.” 

“... Right.”

“And birds. And rabbits. And small children—”

“So basically, you’re a sucker for anything cute?”

Chad shrugs again, which Ichigo takes as a yes. He crumples up his soda can and lobs it into the bin. 

“You were attacked today, too. Aren’t you worried?”

Ichigo considers it. “A bit, yeah. Sucks that you got taken out of the game. But you can still watch my back when you can, right? I’ll go halves on the noodles with you.” 

Chad nods. “When I can. I might be busier with my band soon, though.” 

“Understandable. I’ll try and keep myself alive in the meantime. At least I know who’s aiming for me, now. Neru? Nel?”

“Neliel Tu Odelschwancke.” 

Ichigo stares. “How the hell do you remember that?”

“She’s in my music theory class. And she has green hair. She’s not hard to miss.”

“Well, good. Should make it easier to see her coming.”

Chad smiles. “Your hair isn’t exactly hard to miss, either.” 

“Aw, shut up. I take back what I said about the noodles.” 

They sit in companionable silence for a while, the sounds of Chad tuning his guitar the only thing between them. Eventually, Chad breaks the ice. 

“And Kuchiki?”

Ichigo huffs a dry laugh. “No fuckin’ clue who or where she is. I’ve even been asking around, now that a lot of people have been dropped from the game by dying. But nobody seems to know who she is, even though everyone says her name sounds familiar. It’s driving me up the goddamn wall.”

“When I first heard the name, I thought that too.”

“What, that it sounds like a name that’s going to drive me up the wall?”

“No, that it sounds familiar.”

At this point, Ichigo is more tired than exasperated. “Yeah, s’what everyone says. Whatever. I’ll either find her or I won’t, right? No point getting annoyed over it. Better just focus on staying alive, because I swear to god if I die before finding out who she is I’ll be pissed.”

“You better hope,” Chad says gravely, “that Inoue doesn’t get her hands on your knife, then.” 

“You, me, and the entire dorm population, mate.” 

________________________________________________________

Ichigo drops by Inoue’s room that evening, just to check he isn’t next on her list. He’s lucky— he’s not. But some poor fucker by the name of Uryuu Ishida is.

“I waited outside his room all day and he didn’t even exit once!” Inoue’s saying, brandishing the knife with his name on it like a conductor directing Beethoven’s Ninth. “What kind of— of social recluse does that?!”

“Damn,” Ichigo replies, ignoring the fact that he did exactly that for days on end during the summer holidays, rereading The Compleat Works of Shakespeare in English and Japanese. “Sounds like a loser.”

“Apparently he’s like— the dorm cryptid,” she says, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Nobody’s— nobody’s really seen him in the flesh. They’re not sure he even exists. They think he’s second-year pre-med and that he was valedictorian of his grade last year, but nobody knows for sure.”

“Inoue, how did you manage to find out all this in the span of a day?” 

She looks at him like he’s insane. “I, uh, talked to people?”

“I talk to people too! But nobody knows who Rukia Kuchiki is. Nobody. Zilch. Zip. Nada. At this point I’m about 98% sure she doesn’t actually exist.”

Inoue sighs pityingly. “Kurosaki-kun, you’ve been talking to students, haven’t you?”

Ichigo’s confused. “Who else would I talk to?”

Inoue just puts a finger to her lips. “Can’t tell you. Trade secret. But really, Kurosaki-kun. There are much easier ways of going about this game, you know.” 

“Fat lot of good that’s going to do me, when you won’t tell me,” he grumbles. He takes another look at the name on her knife— Uryuu Ishida, may he rest in peace— and thanks his lucky stars that it isn’t him on there. “Anyway, I better be off. Good luck with the new guy. Not that you’ll need it.” 

“Good luck with Rukia Kuchiki, because you’ll definitely need it.” 

Hell, did everyone make a secret pact today to take the mickey out of him? Ichigo’s too tired to argue, so he just leaves Inoue to her planning and calls it a night. Maybe he’ll have better luck tomorrow.

____________________________________________________________

It takes Ichigo a few seconds to remember who she is, he’s been so tired lately. 

Green hair, he thinks, absentmindedly, before he remembers his conversation with Chad yesterday and yelps, scooting back a few metres. 

“You— Neliel?”

“That’s me!” His would-be murderer is bright and vivacious, and way too perky for this hour of the morning. Aside from the curious green hair, she’s also got a scar between her eyes and a reddish— birthmark? Tattoo? Ichigo doesn’t know— across the bridge of her nose. “Morning, Ichigo!”

Ichigo’s already halfway across the courtyard by the time she stops him. “Wait! Wait! I’m not here to kill you this morning!”

“Yeah right!” he yells back. “I’m not dying before I find out who the hell Rukia Kuchiki is! Try another morning!” 

“You idiot, I’m already dead! Check the morning lists if you don’t believe me!”

Ichigo stops and whips out his smartphone. “You stay right there,” he says, glaring, and Neliel complies, holding her hands up in a gesture of surrender. He scrolls through the dorm noticeboard, and, sure enough, there is her name: one of the last people to be murdered last night. 

“See? I don’t lie,” she says, reproachful, and Ichigo shoves his phone back into his pocket and approaches her cautiously. 

“What do you want?” 

Neliel shrugs. “I just thought I’d warn you about your new potential murderer? Thought that might be good manners, and all. Normally I wouldn’t bother, but, well. Your new murderer’s…… yeah.”

“My new murderer’s… what?” 

She looks intensely uncomfortable at this. “He’s. Well. He’s…. He’s not a friend, per se, but I’ve known him since we were little and I feel a bit responsible for him— uh, he’s a bit rough sometimes, but he won’t actually kill you. I think. Look, just keep your eyes peeled, ok? Anyway, enough of this depressing talk in the morning. Who’s Rukia Kuchiki? Why are you so keen on meeting her?”

Wow, that was so transparent a topic change that Ichigo’s almost impressed. “No, no, go back to my murderer, what were you saying about him?”

“— so, Rukia Kuchiki, huh, cool name, sounds kinda familiar, wonder where I’ve heard it before—”

“Neliel. You were talking about my new murderer and actual murder in the same breath. This does not give me a lot of reassurance, you feel?”

“—no, wait, actually, Rukia Kuchiki,” she mutters, her brow furrowing. Then her expression clears, and she looks up at him with a bright smile. “Oh! You don’t possibly mean Dia—”

And just as that happens, the lockdown alarms go off. 

_______________________________________________________

The loudspeaker in the middle of the courtyard bursts into life with a crackle of static. 

“Attention all residents. This is not a drill. Please make your way to the nearest lockdown location in an orderly fashion. Attention all residents…”

By the second round of the announcement, both of them manage to unfreeze; Neliel curses and starts to turn away, but Ichigo grabs onto her wrist. 

“Oh shit— I have to go find Donddochakka and Pesche—”

“Wait— Rukia. What were you about to say about Rukia?”

She shakes his restraining hand off with ease. “I’ll tell you later! I have to go find my friends!” 

“No, goddammit! Tell me now! It won’t take you that long!” Ichigo yells, but she’s already disappeared into the throng of people. Ichigo kicks a nearby rock and consults his phone to find his nearest lockdown location— the gym, apparently. He joins the crowd moving slowly in that direction, mind still grappling with Neliel’s last words.

Rukia Kuchiki? Oh! You don’t possibly mean Dia-

Dia? Who the hell was Dia?

But he’d have to deal with that later; he walks into the gym and spots Tatsuki, waving at him from a corner with Inoue. He makes his way towards them. 

“—n’t believe that he still won’t come out of his room, who does he think he is— there are safety regulations in place—” Inoue is saying, fingers curled around the knife that still says Uryuu Ishida. Tatsuki attempts to placate her with a long-suffering expression. 

“Maybe he’d already left before you came— hi, Ichigo.”

“Hello, Kurosaki-kun! And ridiculous— I was there at 6 a.m. in the morning. What sort of self-respecting college student wakes up before then?”

“6 a.m.?! Orihime, that’s. That’s stalking—”

“Stalking’s not stalking if it’s done in the name of free cup noodles—” 

“Stalking is always stalking! God, whatever, we’re continuing this another time. Anyway, Ichigo, did you hear? Some nutjob got onto campus with an actual knife.” 

Ichigo flinches. “What? Jesus. I hope Chad’s ok. Where’d you hear that from?”

“From the r.a. over there.” Tatsuki points with a chin, and indeed, several r.a.s are in deep discussion, all of them with a serious look on their face. “They’re gonna make an announcement about it soon. Apparently it’s a scrawny dude, black hair in a ponytail, wearing a dirty white hoodie and jeans. There’s police cars arriving, shit’s crazy.” 

“I’ll say.” At least it was a knife and not a gun, Ichigo thinks, toying idly with his own plastic knife. He halfheartedly scans the crowd, looking for any unfamiliar faces— surprisingly, he finds that he knows most of them already, by sight if not by name. He wonders if any of them are Rukia Kuchiki, and finds himself hoping that, wherever she was, she was somewhere safe. 

It’d be a bit of a downer if she was actually murdered before he managed to get around to it. 

The gym doors open again to let some of the stragglers in, and Ichigo allows his attention to be turned by the motely crew that walk in: a tall, thin man who is built rather like a stick insect, a hulking guy who looks about as wide as he’s tall, and a smaller, scrawny dude who is wearing nothing but a towel as a fundoshi around his waist (goddammit, Ichigo thought that tactic had died out by the first week). And, almost buried by the mass of bodies around her, a head full of green hair. 

Ichigo blinks, and then he starts pushing through the crowd to get to her. 

“Hey. HEY! NELIEL! WE GOTTA CONTINUE OUR CONVERSATION FROM EARLIER!”

Neliel looks up in his direction, and frantically starts mouthing no at him. Ichigo doesn’t give a shit. He’s going to find out who Rukia Kuchiki is, and he’s going to find out now.

“Don’t give me that crap! You said you’d tell me later! Well, it’s later now, so out with it—”

“No, I swear to god, Ichigo, not now—”

“Ichigo?” The stick insect dude suddenly looks viciously interested, and Neliel claps a hand over her mouth. “As in, Ichigo Kurosaki?”

Neliel shakes her head. Ichigo glares at stick insect dude. 

“If I am, who the fuck are you?”

Nel buries her face in her hands, and stick insect dude smiles— and shit, can people even smile that wide? Ichigo feels a chill run down his spine. 

“Your death,” stick insect dude says, and he lunges. 

Scrawny dude, black hair in a ponytail, wearing a dirty white hoodie and jeans.

Ichigo sees the glint of a knife held in his hands, and suddenly realises he’s going to die—

“No!”

That is, until a short, black-haired blur shoots out from the crowd and jumps in front of the knife meant for him. 

It sinks in to the hilt, and Ichigo watches the girl’s eyes widen in shock with a horror that robs him of his own voice. 

________________________________________________________

Both girl and assailant crumple to the ground, and Ichigo’s frantic with worry; he reaches the girl first, hoists her up onto his lap, expecting blood. She was so small; what the hell was she thinking, jumping out in front of him?! She coughs, great big hacking things that he wouldn’t expect from someone her size, and Ichigo holds her around her shoulders, worried out of his mind. 

“Are you ok? Hold on— where did he stab you? Are you bleeding—”

In response, the girl wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and lunges at the felled assailant. 

“You missed, you cowardly shitstain, I don’t know what you’re doing on a campus but you’re going to rot in jail for this—” 

“Young lady—! Enough! Back away and let the cops deal with this—”

“Nnoitra! I told you to leave that stupid knife behind, you idiot—”

“Ow! OW! Don’t just fucking watch, Nel, get this crazy woman off me, what the fuck—” 

“ENOUGH!” The r.a.’s have made their way over by now, and manage to separate the two brawling figures; stick insect dude is being held back by Nel and her two other friends, while the girl is being restrained by an r.a. Ichigo sits on the floor between them, feeling like he just missed something. 

“Wait, hang on, what’s— what just happened— didn’t you get stabbed?” he asks the girl, who is looking very un-stabbed. She glares at stick insect dude. 

“He missed,” she spits, and stick insect dude howls in indignation. 

“I did not miss!” he hisses, and throws a crumpled plastic knife onto the ground. “I had him! I would have had him straight in the gut if it hadn’t been for you jumping in for your boyfriend!!! The fuck, dude! This is sabotage! What have you got against me winning cup noodles?!”

Ichigo stares at the plastic knife bearing his name, crushed like an empty aluminium drink can, and slowly starts piecing the incident together. 

“Wait— so you're—”

“And now I've lost the element of surprise. You scrawny little bitch,” Nnoitra snaps, and Ichigo thinks, a little wildly, that he had no business going around calling anyone else scrawny. He eyes the limp black hair and dirty white hoodie of his assailant and attempts to make sense of the chaos around him. 

“You’re— you had my knife—?”

Nnoitra rolls his eyes. “What, can’t you see? You impaired or some shit?” 

“Oh my god, Nnoitra,” Neliel groans. “Can you keep your big fat mouth shut for half a second—”

“Oh,” comes a small sound from the black-haired girl, and Ichigo turns to see her slowly flushing crimson. “Oh.”

“Oh,” Nnoitra mocks, before Neliel smacks him in the head. “Ow! Nel, you bitch, she is clearly the one in the wrong here, would you knock it off—”

“Well, what the hell was I supposed to think?!” the girl demands, now completely red but with an indignant expression on her face. “You matched the description for the armed intruder perfectly! Not to mention, who plays Murder like they're actually trying to kill someone?!”

“This is why I was trying to warn you,” Nel says to Ichigo in an exasperated aside. “And those are just his last set of clean clothes.”

There's a short silence as everyone digests her words, Ichigo and the girl both eyeing Nnoitra’s hoodie like they seriously doubted Nel’s definition of ‘clean’.

The girl clears her throat and speaks for all of them. “Gross.”

Nnoitra flings himself against Nel’s restraint. “You bitch, I'll fucking cut you up—”

“Enough!” an adult finally makes their way onto the scene, and everyone looks at the harried professor with varying levels of relief. The girl, in particular, lights up at the sight of him. 

“Professor Ukitake—!”

“What’s going on here?” he asks in a tired sort of way, and the r.a.s hasten to answer him. 

“A minor altercation— you know our dorm tradition, Murder—”

“Ah, that damn game,” he mutters, looking extremely distracted. His gaze sweeps over all of them, assessing the situation. “Nobody’s actually hurt, then?”

“No sir,” the girl answers, prompt. The professor nods at her, before turning to the r.a.s for the full story. By now, the police have made it into the evacuation area as well; the three parties convene for a minute or two, discussing the details in hushed voices, before they all turn to Nnoitra and Nel.

“In any case, Mr. Gilga,” Professor Ukitake says apologetically, “although it may be coincidental, it is true that you fit the description for the armed intruder rather perfectly, I’m afraid. The police would like you to accompany them to the station, just for a little while, until the intruder situation is solved. If that’s ok with you—?” 

“Wha— the hell it is! I was just tryna murder Kurosaki over there—” 

The professor winces. “Mr. Gilga….. That’s really not helping your cause there.” 

“Oh, c’mon, it’s just a game—” 

“I told you,” Nel interrupts witheringly. “I told you to leave your damn knife behind, didn’t I? Just go with the officers for now, Nnoitra. It’s just til they catch the real intruder, and quite frankly, I don’t trust you around Ichigo right now.” 

“Don’t be a sore loser, Nel, just because I murdered you last night—” 

Two policemen place a hand each on Nnoitra’s shoulders and escort him out, Nnoitra complaining the whole time but not daring to retaliate. Nel shakes her head and makes an apologetic face in the direction of the smaller girl. “God, I told him… sorry about all this, Di. I might go with him just to make sure he doesn’t get himself arrested… you really alright? Not hurt anywhere?” 

“Who do you think I am?” the girl scoffs. “I’m fine. Never did understand why you’re friends with him, though.”

Nel grimaces. “Yeah, sometimes I wonder that, too. Anyway, I’ll see you later at the gym, we can talk about this then.” 

“Tell your stick insect friend not to lunge at people with knives in the future, whether they’re plastic or not.” 

“Will do. Bye!” with another apologetic half-wave, Neliel and her two other friends take off after Nnoitra. Ichigo, still feeling somewhat bemused by the proceedings, finally turns and manages to get a good look at his…. saviour(?), for lack of a better word. 

She’s short. That’s his first impression, the fact that she is so goddamn short and good lord, she might actually, literally be just half his size, if the way the top of her head only comes up to his chest is any indication. Aside from the height (or lack thereof), she seems fairly nondescript: short black bob, black leggings and a t-shirt with a flannel tied around her waist. She notices him staring and holds out a hand. 

“Diana. We could have met in less embarrassing circumstances, but I guess as first meetings go ‘jumped in front of a knife for you’ isn’t a bad start. You alright?” 

Ichigo takes the proffered hand and is promptly surprised by the firmness of her grip. “Fine. I feel like I should be the one asking you, though. You're the one that got stabbed.”

Diana rolls her eyes. “Please. As if anything wielded by a guy that skinny would ever be able to hurt me.” She grins, all teeth, and whoa, Ichigo may have to reconsider that first assessment of her. He’s suddenly flustered, red dusting the skin over his cheekbones as he tries to come up with a response. She has the bluest eyes he's ever seen. 

Thankfully, the professor from earlier spares him. “Miss Kuchiki!” he calls, and Diana turns— he wants to have a few words with her, it seems, and she gestures to him that she'd be over soon. She turns back to Ichigo to say goodbye. 

“Well, take care, I guess I'll see you around--"

Something clicks in his brain like lightning, and he catches her by the wrist. 

“Wait. Kuchiki—? Like, Kuchiki as in Byakuya Kuchiki Kuchiki? Kuchiki as in the Kuchiki Wing in the Main Library Kuchiki? As in one of the shareholders of our university Kuchiki? That Kuchiki?”

“Shut up, fool, not so loud—!” She snatches her wrist back and looks around worriedly, though by now people’s attentions have moved on from them. She answers him in a resigned tone. “Yes, that Kuchiki. He’s my brother. It's not something I like to advertise.” 

Ichigo’s mind is teeming like a nest of ants. “Why— no, never mind that question. Diana’s not a Japanese name, though--"

“It's my English name, obviously,” she snaps. “If you wanted my full name it is Rukia Kuchiki. Why are you so interested in my name anyway? Shouldn't you at least tell me yours first?”

A slow grin spreads over his face; the kind of grin that Tatsuki had once told him made him look like the supervillain in a bad shounen. He takes a step in closer to her, and Diana— Rukia, irritated, stands her ground. 

His hand slips into his pocket. 

“I'm Ichigo Kurosaki,” he tells her. 

In one fluid motion, he pulls out his own knife and taps her with it on the shoulder. Those blue eyes of hers widen first in disbelief, and then in outrage. 

“You— no. No, you can't possibly— you couldn't!!”

“Nice to meet you, Rukia Kuchiki,” he smirks, flipping the plastic knife over to display her name. 

Rukia closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose, like she has a headache coming on. 

Then she opens her eyes, takes a deep breath, and socks him in the face.