#always staggered by how much these four love each other so very much despite knowing that more than any other fact of earth and life

[ftmbruce]

han, trying to stomach the idea luke is dead: at least my wife is safe, back at base, far away from this...

his wife: i can hear you bitch. get up.

[mimisempai]

In wine, there is truth

Summary:

Loki challenges Thor that Mobius is worthy of holding Mjolnir... Result of the challenge: A drunk Mobius and a shovel talk from Thor... Don’t you say, in wine there is truth...?

Notes:

Someone asked me on Tumblr how I thought Mobius could be if he was drunk + me messing with photoshop to put Mjolnir in Mobius' hands = this crazy little story :p

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33165526

1575 words - Rating G

"Mobius! Mobius! Mobius!"

What am I doing here? Damn Loki!

Thor's friends chanted his name, Loki looked at him with a malicious smile and Thor with a worried look.

And he, Mobius, had his hand on the handle of Mjolnir just because Loki could not help challenging his brother.

"Whoever is worthy of the hammer shall have the power!"

Thor said this in the grandiloquent tone that was his at times, twirling his hammer at the end of his hand as if it were a simple carpentry tool.

Loki stepped forward and said to him with a defiant smile, "I know someone who is worthy." He pulled Mobius in front of him.

Mobius immediately replied, "No, no, not at all."

Loki had taken on a serious look and said softly, "But I'm sure you do."

Under the cheers, Mobius inwardly pestering, closed his eyes, grabbed the handle and pulled, about to put all his strength into it, knowing that he would never be able to lift it.

Suddenly the cheering had died down and instead he heard only gasps.

He opened an eye to see that he had lifted Mjolnir four inches above the ground.

He lifted his arm again, and soon he had the hammer in the air and the gasps turned into shouts of joy and laughter.

He saw Thor smile, but saw his smile widen when he put the hammer down.

Loki simply said as he clenched his fist, "I knew it, I knew it."

Thor stood up and walked towards him. Mobius could not help but gulp as his presence was so imposing. Loki sensed his distress and moved closer to him with a protective attitude.

But Thor's face widened with a big smile, "Mobius! My friend! My brother! Let's celebrate with some good wine! Let's all celebrate! My future brother-in-law is worthy of the hammer!"

He put one arm around Mobius and the other around Loki and led them to the banquet hall.

**********

Much later Loki supported a very drunk Mobius to enter their suite in Asgard. It was the first time he had seen his lover drunk and the experience was entertaining to say the least.

Mobius was trying to lift Loki's tunic, his movements unsteady due to the alcohol.

"Why are you wearing so much clothing?" Mobius whined.

Loki had to restrain himself from laughing, "You want to take them off me?"

Mobius slowly nodded, "But I can't do it then, I'll just lift them up and take you there."

"You're barely able to stand, love," Loki replied, trying to drag a staggering Mobius toward the living room, " First of all I'm going to give you something to keep you from feeling sick after all the mead you've ingested."

"I don't feel sick," Mobius complained, letting Loki push him back to the couch.

"Right now, you're not. But wait, in a few hours you're going to hate everything."

"Not you," said Mobius, pouting, "I could never hate you.  I love you."

Loki smiled fondly as he gently ran his fingers through Mobius' hair, "So do I, but I'm still going to get you some water."

Loki went to get a glass of water, returned quickly, and got Mobius to drink, who was sitting on the couch, or rather slumped over.

He sat down next to him and asked, "Did you at least have fun?"

"Yeah, Thor's great, and so are his friends Sif, Fandral, Hogun, and Vals- uh V-Volstagg." said Mobius, stuttering from the alcohol "They're all really really really cooool."

"I wonder if I should be mad at my brother for getting you drunk like that or be jealous of the fact that you love Thor and his friends."

Mobius put his arms around his neck and sat astride Loki and began to kiss him all over, "Noooo, don't be jealous sweetheart, you know I only love you, only you."

"Okay, okay," Loki chuckled. He definitely loved Mobius under the influence of alcohol.

Mobius continued, and while nibbling on Loki's ear, he whispered to him, "They are cool, but you are super cool, you are my super cool boyfriend.

"Really?" replied Loki, amused.

"Mmhmm. But Thor is cool too, and do you know why?"

"Clearly not. Enlighten me love?" Loki couldn't help the little twinge of jealousy. They had reconciled and Loki, thanks to Mobius and his constant support had managed to get past the old grudges, but every now and then it came back to bite him.

Mobius, who seemed to have perceived his change in mood despite his inebriation, kissed him on the forehead and whispered, "Don't sulk... he's cool because he said I was his brother-in-law."

"Oh... Oh." realized Loki, who then gulped as he wondered what Mobius would remember the next day.

"So I was wondering..." continued Mobius, "...when my future husband was going to take me to bed."

Loki choked, and as he lifted Mobius up and took him to their room, he wondered if he would like Mobius to remember or forget.

Then he whispered into Mobius' ear, "I'm taking you to bed to sleep, like I told you, you're too drunk to do anything, and I'd rather you remember that tomorrow if we do anything."

They arrived in the room and Loki put Mobius gently on the bed.

Once on the bed, Mobius immediately began to undress, throwing his clothes everywhere and Loki watched him with amusement.

Once almost naked, wearing only his briefs, Mobius held out his hands to Loki with an adorable pout, "Come join me sweetheart."

"Yeah I'm coming but we're not going to do anything.", Loki said, stripping off his clothes as Mobius did before, sliding in next to him and covering them up.

"Don't you want me?" Mobius whimpered with puppy dog eyes that Loki had never seen before and that made him want to send his virtue flying, but he held his ground and reassured his lover anyway.

"Of course I want it. I still want you love, but not while you're drunk. Tomorrow, when you're sober, I promise I'll show you how much I want you."

Mobius pouted and then smiled, snuggling up to Loki, his head resting on Loki's chest, "I still want you too..." then after a time of silence he whispered, clearly falling asleep, "my future husband."

Loki whose heart leapt in his chest, placed a kiss on Mobius hair, an loving smile on his face and said with a tight throat, "If you ask me, I will say yes."

**********

Bam! Bam! Bam!

The loud knocks on the door echoed throughout their apartment, even rattling the glass on the nightstand.

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" Loki growled, pulling away from Mobius.

Mobius whimpered, clinging to him. Loki kissed him on the forehead and whispered, "Go back to sleep. I'll see what it is and be right back."

Loki just pulled on a shirt over his boxers, not bothering to button it, he suspected who the person knocking on the door was and had no desire to make any effort.

He opened the door and as his doubt was confirmed, he sighed, "Thor.

Thor opened his mouth but Loki stopped him with one hand, "Mobius is still sleeping. So you're going to calm down and speak softly, okay?"

Thor nodded and said, "Little brother, we need to have a serious talk.

"Oh?"

Loki beckoned him in and they sat down face to face in the living room.

Loki waited for Thor to start talking.

He cleared his throat, "Loki. Mobius is a good person. Even Mjolnir has acknowledged him. So I'm here to tell you that if you ever hurt him in any way, physically or emotionally, so help me gods, I will bring down lightning on you. And before you get offended, I gave him the same speech about you last night. I told him that if he ever hurt my little brother, there was no timeline where he could hide, I would find him. Don't ruin what's between you. It's precious, even me, your idiot big brother can see how much you adore each other."

Loki, embarrassed, asked him a little abruptly, "Are you finished?" then, softening, he added, "Thank you. You may not believe it, but I really have changed, or rather, thanks to Mobius, I am finally who I want to be. So I promise you that I will do anything to preserve that."

"I'm sure you will." said Thor as he stood up and pulled Loki into one of his skeleton-crushing, breath-stopping brotherly embraces.

Then Thor whispered to him in a tone that was meant to be threatening, "Lightning...my lightning...on you" before turning away and leaving, closing the door behind him.

Loki walked back into the room, grinning.

"Who was that?" asked Mobius, sitting against the headboard and watching Loki join him.

"Thor. He came to give me a, what would you call, a shovel talk?"

"Huh?...I remember him giving me one last night, but is it an Asgardian tradition to give one to your brother?"

Loki chuckled and put his arm around Mobius' chest, "No, but my brother knows my propensity for messing up my relationships so..."

Mobius reached over and took his chin, "Not anymore sweetheart, not anymore." then pressed a tender kiss to Loki's mouth.

He then followed the line of Loki's jaw, then his cheek, to his ear where he whispered, "I remember everything I said last night... my future husband."

________

Series of Oneshot : Together, for all time, always

As always, bear with me as it is not beta'd and english is not my native language I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless🥰

[anime-alyssa]

purple scars. (d ragnvindr x reader)

i posted this on ao3 and forgot to move it here - so you get it super long and not 2 in parts. i’m thinking of continuing this, maybe?

thanks for reading and the support! i’m working on a xiao rn hopefully i can get my shit together 

warning: contains some emotional trauma, implied r*pe but nothing is overly graphic. the second half is smut, separated by stars if thats what you want to skip to. 

The bitter cold of Dragonspire finally started to fade away as you crossed over the bridge back into Mondstat for the first time in 10 years. You were bundled up to the extreme, having prepared for the cold, your sword on your back and jacket heavy on your shoulders. Your sword and your jacket were all you managed to steal away before you were able to escape your homeland, Inazuma. You were still dressed in the encampment clothes, your ID number splayed across the chest of the shirt and the boots too big for your feet.

You hadn’t wanted to be gone for 10 years - you wanted to only be gone for a few, to get your Electro under control. But when Baal placed borders around the country and started hunting down anyone with a Vision, life had become a living hell. You were placed in a prison camp and locked away from society shortly after, tortured beyond anything imaginable just for being born with a Vision. The only thing that kept you alive was the hope that one day, if you had gotten strong enough, you would be able to escape Inazuma to head back to Diluc, and Mondstat - were you really felt at home. 

Diluc Ragnvindr was a mystery to everybody, except for you. You found yourself more often than not sneaking onto Dawn Winery’s premises when his father was not around and exploring each other’s bodies, like the horny teens that you had been. Sometimes you thought you could still feel the ghost of his fingertips on your skin at night - and tried to imagine that it was him when the Bakufu would do unspeakable things to you and the other prisoners. It was painful, and left you scarred - would Diluc even want you?

It had been 10 years - you had last seen him when you were merely 16 and he was entering the Knights of Favonius. The two of you fell in love as teenagers - no one expected it to be anything beyond that, but the two of you were convinced otherwise at the time. For you, it was still the same - you thought of Diluc every single day while you were in Inazuma. You could remember the day like it was yesterday - his heartbroken eyes, the cries you let out as you told him that you would be leaving, the way he held onto you. 

“I’ll be back - I promise - I just - I need help that I can’t get here.” you sobbed into his chest. The Pyro users warmth was all around you as he held you in his room at Dawn Winery, his father out for the night, leaving the two of you bare in his bed.

“You better come back, or else I’ll go to Inazuma myself to get you.” his eyes looked down at you and your heart broke at the sight of him - Diluc was never a vulnerable person, but right now he was. One of his thumbs stroked your tears away on your cheeks as his lips peppered kisses up your neck. “I will never forget you. Ever.” 

“Neither will I.” you said with a gasp, as Diluc had given you a night to never forget. 

You had officially reached the other side of the bridge - the cold gone away and the warmth coming back to you. You thought about taking the jacket off, now way too hot with it on, but you didn’t want people to know where you had come from. You didn’t want their pity. There was a small camp with other adventurers and travelers around, the chef offering you food for free before you went on your way. It didn’t do much for you to quell the aching hunger you had and the shaky legs - you weren’t really the best fed and had been surviving off of fruit from trees. In short, you were in no condition to be traveling, clearly sickly and unwell. But you were not stopping now - you couldn’t. Not after all that you had overcome. You hadn’t forgotten about him. 

A series of snarls from the side of you caused you to jump as you saw about four hilichurls coming right for you. You shrugged the jacket off and grabbed your sword, standing your guard as the monsters attacked. You fought them tooth and nail until your vision all but blacked out - you had hit the ground and heard someone calling for you. 

“Hello? Wake up - Lumine - she needs help! Hey, wait - that’s an Inazuma camp uniform!” a high-pitched voice said to you. Your vision slowly came back as you saw a floating - fairy? You didn’t know what she was - but she was floating above you looking concerned next to a young blonde teenager. “Are you okay?” 

“I - I don’t know. Need food - water - Di -” you managed to weakly say, feeling your world spin around you. The blonde teenager ran to the water source across from you - a lake? - to get you a drink of water as the fairy thing fished out something for you to eat. You felt like you were going to die - you were starving, dehydrated, but Diluc, you needed to get to Diluc.

“Here’s some water! Drink this, please.” she said to you kindly. You took the cup and quickly chugged the water, then taking the offered food. “My name is Lumine, and this is Paimon.” You gave them your name back, as they seemed trustworthy, as they sat down next to you and watched you. Paimon looked at you with sad eyes, seeing your uniform.

“Thank you very much. It’s been…. a while since I ate anything. All I have is this.” you said to them, continuing to eat. You were already feeling better, but by the way they were looking at you, you could tell that you were still quite a sight.

“You’re welcome - did you escape Inazuma? Paimon and Lumine were actually trying to find a way to sneak in.” Paimon had announced to you. You froze on the spot and looked up to them.

“What - no. Don’t go there. It’s dangerous - the camps - ” You felt panic start to bubble in your chest, your heart-rate increasing and breathing becoming staggered at the flashes of memories that flooded your mind. Paimon started calling out to you again, trying to calm you. She and Lumine had started to talk amongst themselves, looking at you trying to calm yourself as they made attempts to as well. You tried to remember Diluc - what you could of him, and slowly you were able to calm down. “I’m sorry - it’s just - it’s awful. I was there for 10 years, I was a prisoner.” You sat in an awkward silence before Paimon spoke up again. 

“Hey - Paimon remembers that when you were talking earlier, you almost sounded like you were saying someone’s name.” she said to you. 

“I’m - I’m looking for Diluc Ragnvindr of Mondstat - the Knights - or Dawn Winery - I don’t know where he is, actually. When I left, he was joining the Knights.” you said to them with a sudden hope that you hadn’t felt in years. Even in your journey, you hadn’t felt hopeful. There was always the chance of the Bakufu finding you and bringing you back or dying. But suddenly, you felt some hope. 

“Oh - Master Diluc! Paimon didn’t know he used to be with the Knights of Favonius - that explains why he dislikes them so much now - but he does run Dawn Winery now!” Paimon said, floating happily. She paused for a moment - then looked like some gears had clicked in her head. “Wait a minute - you’re Master Diluc’s lost love!!”

“His what?” You asked. Lost love? Was that what the rumor was? But wait - if there was even a rumor, that meant there was potential that he still cared about you - still thought of you. 

“What Paimon means to say is that Kaeya told us stories about when Diluc was… not like he is now. That he used to be much happier - and it was because of you.” the blonde traveler said to you. 

“What - what do you mean? He’s changed?” You wanted to slap yourself - obviously he changed, it’s been years. But they made it seem like he was completely different - and he left the Knights? When Diluc was younger it was all he wanted to do, so he could protect people and help them. What had changed? You assumed you would find out. 

“Paimon thinks we should take you to him to find out - Kaeya made it seem like you knew him better than anyone, so you would know more. Let’s go check Dawn Winery to see if he is there!” she said happily. You gave her a nod as you shakily stood up, feeling like you had a little bit more energy and walked with the traveler and her companion. 

You learned about her on the way there. She woke up on the beach with no memory, but knew she was not from Tevyat. Her twin brother was missing and she was in search of The Seven to see if maybe that would be a way for her to find him, which explained why she wanted to go to Inazuma despite your warnings. But, she was Vision-less - a fact that shocked you as you could have sworn you vaguely remember her using Anemo during the fight. That little factoid made you feel a little better. 

As you approached Dawn Winery, your stomach started twisting into knots. All of your anxieties came flooding back - would Diluc even want you still? Would he be appalled at the state of you? Would he be able to handle the extra baggage you came with now? Your mind reeled at Paimon babbled on about how maybe you would be good for Diluc to be happy, and how she was looking forward to the food the winery always had for them. You felt yourself fidgeting with the jacket, having put it back on to cover your uniform. 

You saw his red hair from a mile away and froze in your steps. He had gotten taller, but god he looked the same. He pulled his hair back like he always had, muscles built out over the years. He couldn’t see you yet, talking to someone else across from him at the entrance of the winery. Lumine stayed by your side, the teenager having a big heart and concerned. However, Paimon floated on over to him. 

“Master Diluc! Master Diluc! Paimon and Lumine have someone who was looking for you!” she said excitedly. You couldn’t help but admire the creature’s happiness, despite your nerves. You and Lumine walked forward as Diluc turned around - eyes going wide seeing you. Your breath hitched in your throat as you two made eye contact. It felt like all air in your lungs had just disappeared and you were unable to breathe. 

Diluc slowly stepped towards you at first, not being able to believe his eyes. You could tell he was taking you in, observing your features and you to make sure that it really was you. You didn’t blame him for taking his time - you were unrecognizable from before. Your features had thinned out due to the years of neglect from the Bakufu, eyes sunken slightly inward and skin paled. You saw a flash of doubt flash in his eyes - or at least that’s what your brain wanted you to think - and you let out a sob. That seemed to do it for him as Diluc ran over to you in a flash, pushing anybody out of his way to wrap his arms around you. 

It finally felt like you were home, in Diluc’s arms as he held you. More sobs wrecked your now trembling body, overcome with emotion as tears spilled onto his clothing. His grip on you was snug, but not too tight, treating you like you were glass and frail. He was warm, as he always was, while he held onto you like you’d disappear into thin air if he let go. You felt your knees give out, exhaustion starting to hit you, Diluc picking you up to support you. You tried to say something - to say anything to him, but the shaking and the exhaustion was becoming to much and eventually, you blacked out in his arms. 

——

You woke up on a comfortable bed - so comfortable it almost didn’t feel right. You were sunk into one side with the blankets over you, body bare underneath. Had Diluc been the one to take your clothes off - did he see your scars? Your body suddenly felt good - there was no aching, you suddenly felt healthy? If that was the word for it. You shuffled in the bed, making an attempt to sit up, before you were promptly pushed back down. 

“Lay down - please.” Diluc spoke to you. You turned your gaze over to him, laying next to you, half asleep and half dressed. You covered yourself underneath the blankets as he threw an arm over you, pulling you close to him despite trying to hide. “Don’t do that. Stop trying to hide from me.”

“Diluc - I’m - I’m not the same.” you stammered out. You felt his fingers dance over your bare skin and you gasped, instinctively jumping back. He retreated his touch upon seeing this, examining you again. “I’m sorry.”

“What did they do to you?” he asked. Panic bubbled inside of you once more as you tried to find the words to speak. You wanted to tell him everything. He deserved to know everything if he was still going to be with you. But for some reason, you couldn’t find the words. “Did the Bafuku do this - give you these?” His fingers grazed over the discolored scars on your body, purple marks from Electro attacks embedded into your skin forever. 

“Yes - they would - they punished us when we fought back. All of us - but the females - they would - they’d come at night - ” Diluc let out a low snarl, understanding what you were implying without actually having to say it. “I tried to imagine it was you. Thinking of you is the only thing that kept me alive most days. It was awful - once Baal placed the orders to capture everyone with Visions, they found me in days. The painful part was that I was right at Liyue’s border - I was so close to getting out. That’s when I got this one.” You lifted your left arm, pointing to a series of purple numbers on your wrist. 

“I don’t want to hear where they came from. It only makes me angrier that the damn Knights of Favonius didn’t even try to do anything to help.” Diluc said, cautiously wrapping a bare arm around you, testing the waters. You allowed him the contact - knowing that you were safe. You were safe with Diluc. You just needed to convince your brain the same thing, which would take time that he didn’t seem to mind. “It’s the middle of the night, let’s go back to bed. You need rest.” he said to you. 

You gave Diluc a quick nod as you found yourself inching closer to his chest, resting your head on him. He was warm, as always, wrapping his arms completely around you and pulling you onto him. He never used to be one who liked someone on top of him, even you, and you had respected that - but now it seems like he wasn’t going to ever let you go again. 

You didn’t mind as you attempted to fall into a dreamless sleep - but you were unlucky. Diluc was out in five minutes flat, but every time you tried to close your eyes flashes of the past would come back to haunt you. You weren’t sure if you got a wink of rest at all, until you found Diluc looking down at you, the sun out behind him. Your throat was dry and your face was wet. Had you had a nightmare? You weren’t sure if you had, since you weren’t even sure if you had fallen asleep at all.

“It’s just me - you’re okay. You were having a nightmare, I think.” he said, trying to say it in his calmest voice he could possibly muster. You blinked up at him confused. 

“I - I don’t remember.” you said sadly, racking your brain to see if you could remotely remember, but having no such luck. Your brain was telling you that it didn't want you to remember, you think.

“You were screaming in your sleep. Almost shocked me, actually.” he said, throwing a light-hearted chuckle in at the end. You were not amused though, staring at him with wide eyes as you sat up slowly.

“I did? Are you okay?” you asked him. He looked at you like you had ten heads, confusing you until he spoke next.

“What - are you okay?”

“I think that answer is obvious enough.” You replied plainly. Diluc’s hand went to your chin, bringing your gaze to match his. His thumb lovingly and gently ran across your jawline, and you instinctively leaned into his touch. Slowly, you climbed up onto his lap, and he allowed you the comfort. “I think - I think I’ll be okay now, though. It’s just going to take some time.” You nuzzled yourself back into his chest as he hugged you snuggly, a hum leaving his lips. 

“I’ll be here with you until it is, I swear it.” Diluc pressed a soft kiss on your forehead and you knew then that he meant it just like he did 10 years before.

*********************************************************************************

Slowly but surely, you started to heal, and it was all thanks to Diluc. The nightmares started to slowly fade away and with time, you were feeling happy again. You lived with him at Dawn Winery and took on some responsibilities to earn your keep (though Diluc always insisted that you didn’t need to do so), like helping the staff keep the place running and making sure that Diluc was on time to everything he needed to be. Which was a challenge, especially once you started to feel like your old self again (or what you could of your old self). 

“One of these days, Charles is going to quit and then you’ll be stuck!” you said to him from on top of his desk, his lips on your neck as you let out a sigh. You weren’t quite mentally ready for much more intimacy, and he was okay with that, but you slowly had become re-accustomed to more touches. Diluc was letting you take the reins for what you were ready for and what you weren’t. 

“He threatens to quit every day. He never does.” Diluc spoke against your skin, grunting as you finally pushed him away - and just in time, as Charles walked in to look for him. You hopped off and ran to find Adeline to see if she needed any help. Later on that day, you saw Charles again and he said that Diluc had been in a particularly angry mood for the past few hours. With a sigh, you had hunted him down, finding him in your bedroom. 

“What’s wrong? Charles is going around saying you’re angry.” you said to him. Your partner let out a scoff as he turned back around to you, your eyes immediately going to his middle. You bit back a laugh. 

“Don’t.” he hissed through gritted teeth, face burning as you stepped closer to him. 

“It’s like you’re sixteen again.” you said with a small giggle. Before he could protest, you had him backed against the wall and his pants shoved down, solving the problem yourself. Charles saw you before he left for the night and had said Diluc was in a much better mood the rest of the day. 

You had found out about Diluc’s night-time hero work as The Darknight Hero a week or two after you had returned. Originally, you fought him tooth and nail against it, for selfish reasons - but once he explained what had happened to him over the past 10 years, you gave it a rest and let him go on. With the death of his father and everything that had happened with the Knights and his brother afterward, you almost couldn’t blame him. 

He had put a pause on it when you came back, but people started to talk and worry, and the Abyss Order picked up on it. He had to begin it again, and you worried every single night. Tonight in particular, he had been gone almost all night, and you were starting to worry. It was an hour or two more than what he was usually out, and you were alone in the Winery with your thoughts. To make things worse, it was storming outside so you couldn’t go out to look for him even if you wanted to. 

A crack of thunder caused panic to rush through your chest - it sounded too much like Bakufu punishment for your comfort. You were snuggled under blankets, bringing your knees to your chest as you tried to push the memories away - another crack making an involuntary whimper leave your lips as the shakes came on. You hadn’t panicked like this in months - but the conditions of the storm and Diluc being gone for longer than he said brought it on, and you were nearly unable to control it. 

The door opened and you jumped, not paying any mind to whoever it was that walked through the door as you fought to keep the memories at bay - flashes of them coming through in segments. You heard a curse and then running as you steadied some of your breathing, a hand coming to your face and forcing you to look at your lover. He wrapped his arm around you and brought you close to him, letting you soak up his warmth. 

“You’re okay - you’re okay.” Diluc chanted to you softly. You nodded against his chest as you wrapped yourself around him back, his hand gently rubbing your back. He was right - you were okay. “I tried to get back as soon as I could after the weather rolled in, I’m sorry it took so long.” he apologized from above you. 

“It’s okay.” you mumbled into him.

“No it’s not. I know how it gets - I should have known better.” he pressed a kiss to your hair after he spoke, guilt starting to rise up. Diluc had been overly cautious when it came to you since your return - within days he had memorized anything that sent you into a panic and was there to prevent it from happening. Until today, that is, hence the guilt. You let out a sigh as you relaxed into him. 

“I know you want to protect me, but you can’t always do it, on top of everything else. I’ll be okay.” you said to him, taking your head out of his chest and bringing your lips to his. 

He slowly reciprocated once his mind caught up to his body - realizing that you were initiating, something that hadn’t happened yet since you came back. His arms around you tightened as the kiss became deeper and more passionate, from a tiny little peck to open mouthed pants. Diluc was almost struggling to keep up with you, mind telling him to slow down for you but body betraying him, his need for you coming to the surface. 

Diluc almost lost his mind when he had dragged you closer to him and heard a soft moan leave your lips as you landed on top of the tent in his pants. The moan seemed to be the signal that flipped the switch in Diluc’s head, as he flipped the two of you over, placing your back on the mattress as he towered above you. 

“Are - are you sure?” Diluc asked, needing your complete consent before he went any further. A selfish part of him was hoping you’d say yes, but if you were to say no, he’d have no problem getting off you right now and going on with his night. It was all about if you were ready. 

“Yes. Please Diluc.” you said back quietly. It was his turn to let out a moan at your begging for him as his lips went to your neck, softly leaving pecks up and down both sides. 

“You tell me if anything - anything - is too much.” he spoke against your skin, coming back up to make sure that you understood. Diluc felt his cock twitch in his pants seeing your blissed out face, lust clouded over you from him. You let out a weak nod before he went back down with more vigor, sucking marks into your neck for all to see.

Fighting back wasn’t a thought in your mind as your body grew hot, clothes suddenly feeling restricting and your core in need of some friction. You hadn’t needed anybody in years, but right now, you needed him. Everything felt so right as his gloved fingertips pushed your shirt off your body, exposing your chest to him. The cool air made you shiver, but was soon replaced with the warmth of Diluc’s mouth pressing open-mouthed kisses to all the skin he could reach. 

You managed to get Diluc to shrug his jacket off once you started to push it over his shoulders, pulling at his gloves next and discarding those. His mouth went back to its attack on your chest, finding one of your breasts and gently beginning to tug. A moan left your mouth as you tried to remember that your next mission was to get his shirt off. Your body was giving into him more and more as sparks of pleasure started to zoom through your veins and down to your core, slick starting to pool. 

“Diluc…” you moaned out his name lustfully, spurring him on more. He pulled away from your nipple with a pop, panting as he almost ripped the rest of his shirt off his arms before going back down to pay attention to the other nipple. You continued to cry out, twisting underneath him as you filled with more and more need. 

You felt his hands moving down your stomach, one resting on your hip while the other tucked under the waistband of your pants. For a moment, your mind started to reel and your heart raced - flashes of the past coming in. You were able to remember that you were with Diluc - you were safe, and you wanted him. Diluc noticed, immediately popping off you and gazing up at you. 

“Should I - ”

“Don’t you dare stop.” you said, cutting him off. Throwing your arms around his neck, you brought his lips down to meet yours as he quickly continued what he was doing. Fingers dipped between your folds slowly, toying with your sensitive bud and making you moan against his mouth. With a small grunt back, Diluc slid two of his fingers into you slowly, beginning to pump. You sighed out his name as your hips ground into him, his lips moving back towards your neck as he panted against you. 

“You’re so fucking perfect, baby.” he breathed against you, hips rutting against your thigh. You used your free hands to push your pants off, kicking them down your legs and leaving you completely exposed. The purple scars on your body reflected with the lightning outside the window and the candle light on the bedside while your body twitched with desire. Another moan left your lips as his fingers curled up into you, his thumb circling your bud making your walls tremble. “I need you. I need you.” he chanted into your neck, trying to use his freehand to fumble with his pants to push them down. 

“Diluc…” you moaned as you started to meet his pumps, fucking yourself on his fingers trying to chase a high that you felt coming. 

“I need to be inside you. Let me - I need it.” he stammered, continuing to finger fuck you until you said yes. You let out a cry as you felt yourself nearing the edge, body hot and sweat collecting on your skin. “Please baby - let me - ”

“Diluc, yes - fuck - ” As soon as the words left your mouth, he pulled his fingers out of you and finished pulling his pants down, kicking them off and letting them fall to the floor. You let out a whine at the loss before Diluc leaned down to kiss you again, gently using his knees to spread your legs wider and his hand that was in you to line his cock up with you. Nerves started to kick in ever so slightly, surpassing the need as you spoke out. “Be - slow - please.” you managed to say. 

“Of course.” he said back, putting his lips back on yours as Diluc pushed the head of his cock into your hole. He let out a moan into your mouth, checking your face for any signs of discomfort before pushing in more. A whine left your lips at the feeling of being split open - it had been so long since you had someone inside of you that it almost felt like the first time again. Diluc pressed kisses to you, as some form of a distraction, as he continued to seethe himself inside until eventually, he was all the way in. “Okay?” he asked, bringing his gaze back up to yours. Diluc looked like he was absolutely holding back, restraining himself because you had asked. His face was red and he was panting above you already, heart racing with desire. 

“Ye - yeah.” you said back to him. He let out a groan before he kissed you again, not moving inside just yet. His lips were warm against yours, swollen from all of the other kisses he had given you so far. Diluc wrapped his arms around you and brought you close to him, pressing your bodies together as you felt your need re-awaken. Your body was on edge, having him inside you but not moving - and you needed him yet again. “Diluc - you can move - please.” you begged. 

“Fuck, yes.” he groaned into your mouth as slowly he started to rock his hips into yours, cock sliding in and out of you with ease. When he started moving, everything from before fully woke up again and you felt your muscles start to tense up, gripping onto his shoulders desperately as your moans started to fill the air. He took that as signal to start going faster and eventually, he started thrusting harder, with more purpose. A cry left your lips at the change of pace, feeling your body react by trying to move your hips to meet his. 

“Faster Diluc - please faster.” you cried out. Your lover let out a loud moan at your plea, hiking your legs over his shoulders as he fucked into you harder, cock curving up inside you and hitting the spot that had you crying out his name. You started to shake under him, a warmth pooling in you that felt like it was about to bubble over. Diluc took your lips in his again, drinking up your moans as he pounded himself into you, the bed creaking and the sound of his hips meeting yours filling the room. You felt his cock growing harder inside of you with every thrust, your resolve close to breaking. “D - Diluc - Diluc!” you cried, tears streaming down your cheeks as pleasure started to overcome you. 

“So good - you’re so good to me - so - perfect - fuck!” he said to you in a haze, a wanton moan leaving his lips as he felt your walls start to flutter around his cock. You let out a cry as you felt yourself nearly there - the pressure was bubbling and you were about to snap as the length of Diluc’s cock hit you right every time, his moans music to your ears and making your insides shutter. “Ah - ah - come for me, baby - come for me!” Diluc begged, now chasing a release by making you get to yours. You let out a whine - feeling yourself getting towards that edge - then a scream, feeling Diluc bring his hand down between your bodies to start rubbing at your clit. “Fuck you’re gonna - come - come!” he moaned. 

“Diluc - Diluc - I’m - fuck!” you screamed out his name as white hot pleasure took over your body, feeling your walls finally clench down on him inside of you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your heard as you kept moaning, body arching against his and core still convulsing as Dilic continued to fuck you, now with a pace near brutal that had your orgasm being wrung out, overstimulation nearing. “Di - Diluc - ” you stammered as his fingers rubbed harder on your spent nub. 

“Fuck - I’m - I’m gonna cum - so hard - inside - baby - ” Diluc let out one last loud moan as his hips slapped against yours, his cock twitching inside of you as his seed buried itself deep. He let out moans as he bucked his hips up into you, your twitching core milking his cock as he all but collapsed on top of you. “Fuck -” he breathed out into your neck, dragging your hips close again so he could keep pumping his high in your body. 

You felt spent - exhausted. Eventually, you felt his cock stop twitching inside of you and Diluc pulled out, collapsing next to you. He brought the blankets over your bodies and pulled you close to him, pressing kisses to your temple. 

“Are you okay?” he asked you. You turned to look at him, eyes wide with concern. You gave him a smile and pressed a kiss to his lips. Even after all that, he was still worried about you. You could argue that's what you loved most about him - that under the facade of not caring, he cared a lot - he was an emotional guy. 

“More than okay.” you said back to him. He let out a hum as his hand trailed down to your abdomen - the area where you had the most scars from the Bakufu. Suddenly, you got what he was saying. 

“I - well - I came inside. Are you sure?” he asked again. You didn’t really think about that in the moment, honestly. You weren’t sure how you felt about that one hundred percent - but you knew that you didn’t entirely mind it. You had gone through hell to get back with him because you wanted to be with him - you wanted to be with him completely. 

“Yeah. I’m sure - I want to be with you, Diluc. That means… everything.” you said back. He nodded back down to you as he kissed you again, keeping his hand on you down below. When he stopped, he pressed your forehead to his lovingly.

“To everything.”

[swan-of-sunrise]

Spellbinding (Chapter Fourteen)

Summary: While dealing with a surprising new development in their relationship, Loki and (Y/N) are stuck in the middle of an explosive feud between Steve and Tony.

Pairing: Loki X Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: I’d call this a filler chapter but I absolutely love writing about the Avengers as a whole! I also thought we needed a little break from the plot for some team bonding before things get too crazy lol I hope that you enjoy!

Chapter Fourteen November 22nd, 2015 Avengers Tower, New York City (Previous Chapter)

“You read this book when you were how old?”

(Y/N) smiled mischievously and turned her attention back to reorganizing her closet. “I was seven. I checked it out from the library without telling my Aunt Evelyn and read it late at night; I couldn’t sleep without my nightlight on for months afterwards but I’m glad I read it, since it’s a literary classic and everything.”

Loki let out a half-laugh and turned the page of his book. “Well, if we’re ever blessed with children, I think we should wait until they’re at least twelve to introduce them to Dracula. Perhaps even fourteen.”

“Children?”

In an instant, Loki froze and it dawned on him what he’d accidentally said. (Y/N) was also frozen, her arm still extended to grab a hangar from inside the closet. “I-I…I just meant…I’d like to…” Loki cleared his unusually tight throat. “I, ah, wouldn’t mind having…you know, children. Someday. With…with you.” Dammit, I’ve made a mess of things again, Loki inwardly groaned.

They’d only been together for a little over four months and it was much, much too early in their relationship to bring about the subject of children. But after he acknowledged his love for (Y/N), it was challenging for Loki to envision a future without her in it and lately, the idea of a more permanent future with the woman he loved was all he could think about. He knew that his girlfriend liked children; back when she still worked at the New York Public Library, he’d fondly watch her helping them with their homework or reading to them and since officially becoming the Cosmic Sorceress, she’d visited the children’s ward at the nearby hospital once a week to cheer up the young patients. And despite what others might believe, Loki also liked children and the thought of being a father one day – while admittedly a little nerve-wracking – was not an unwelcome one.

Just as (Y/N), with her (Y/E/C) eyes widened in shock, opened her mouth to reply, there came the sounds of voices shouting angrily from the common room down the hall. In an instant, Loki and (Y/N) summoned their magic into the palms of their hands before sprinting out of her suite and down the hallway.

Steve and Tony stood on either sides of the common room and were fully engaged in a blazing argument by the time Loki and (Y/N) arrived. Skidding to a stop beside (Y/N), Loki’s first thought was that he’d never seen either man as angry as they were now, even during the Battle of New York.

“Because you flat-out refused to listen when I said to wait, three S.H.I.E.L.D. agents are at the hospital in critical condition!” Tony yelled.

Steve stepped closer and shouted back, “And if I hadn’t acted when I did, an entire apartment complex would’ve been demolished anyway and dozens of people would be dead! Those agents would be fine right now if you hadn’t hesitated to use your scanners!”

“You mean, if I hadn’t stopped to think the situation through?!”

“You’re acting like a civilian, Stark, not a soldier! Our job is to make the tough decisions as quickly as we can for the benefit of the whole, we don’t have the luxury of holding committees for every choice we make!”

“Bullshit, it’s better to weigh options instead of barreling in without a plan; that’s what you’re best at, though, isn’t it? If you hadn’t made the dumb-ass decision to crash that plane in ‘45, you and Carter-”

Before Tony could finish his sentence, Steve landed a punch on his jaw that sent him staggering backwards. Tony quickly surged forward to retaliate, but Loki used his magic to halt his movement while (Y/N) used hers to stop Steve. “Enough!” They dissolved their magic and with matching looks of contempt, both Steve and Tony turned and stormed away, leaving Loki and (Y/N) to gape at each other in shock.

“Yeah, that was a continuation of what happened on the Quinjet.” They turned and watched Bruce step out of the elevator with a weary expression on his face. “I’ll explain everything to you both, but can we do it in private? The rest of the team’s at each other’s throats and I don’t want all the fighting to accidentally trigger the Big Guy…”

After leading the scientist into (Y/N)’s suite and subtly lighting one of her calming lavender-scented candles, Loki sat beside his girlfriend on the sofa and listened as Bruce talked. “This arms dealer was holding an entire apartment building in Luxembourg hostage, said he’d blow the place up if his demands for more guns weren’t met. Fury sent Steve, Tony, Bucky and Clint this morning; the plan was to surround the building and find a way in before going after the guy, but he decided he didn’t want to wait any longer and turned an automatic timer on for the explosives. Cap sent the other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents in to clear the building and Tony said to wait for the agents to give word before ordering Bucky to take the shot, but Steve didn’t listen. Bucky took the shot, got the guy, but the explosives still went off.” Loki and (Y/N) exchanged looks of confusion, and Bruce continued. “There was a pressure timer hidden in his hand, they call it a dead man’s switch; Tony scanned and saw it at the last second, but Steve was already giving the order to Bucky.” Bruce started pacing as he ran a hand through his hair. “It’s like a civil war; Clint and Nat are taking Tony’s side, they think Steve could’ve waited a little longer, and Sam and Bucky are on Cap’s side.” He snorted in derision. “Thanksgiving dinner should be a blast this year.”

(Y/N) nodded, a saddened expression on her face, but Loki furrowed his brow. “Thanksgiving? You host a dinner of thanks on Midgard?”

“I’ll explain it to you later.” She flashed him a brief smile before returning her concerned gaze to Bruce. “Is there anything we can do?”

“You both should probably just stay out of it; they might come around faster if they see that you’re neutral in all this.” The scientist walked to the door. “I’d better go down and talk to Fury, so I’ll see you guys later.”

Once Bruce closed the door behind him, (Y/N) threw herself back against the cushions of the couch and sighed. “How could something like this have even happened? We’ve been such a strong team these past few months and now…”

“They’re both strong-willed men and stubborn in their own right, you know that. Each holds steadfast to their beliefs no matter the consequences; this is a trait of theirs I’ve both admired and admonished in all the time I’ve known them.” Loki admitted. “But Banner is correct, any attempt of ours to help may only worsen the situation for everyone.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Taking in (Y/N)’s troubled frown, Loki decided to try distracting her from their fighting teammates, laying down and resting his head in her lap so that he was staring up at her. “So, a feast of thanks sounds…quaint.”

As he’d hoped, she relaxed as she gave him a look of amusement and began running her fingers through his hair. “It’s more than that, silly. In America, it’s a day where we give thanks for our lives and the people in them. We sit around a table for dinner and let our loved ones know just what they mean to us, that we cherish and appreciate them, no matter any differences…we might…we might have…” (Y/N) trailed off, pausing a moment before gasping in excitement. “Loki, I think I may have either a brilliant plan or an insane one!”

“I know just what you have in mind, darling. Let’s go!” They both hurried to the living room closet and tugged on their coats and scarves; they had a long, long day of shopping ahead of them.

Although he’d acclimated fairly well to Midgard in the months since his arrival, one of the things Loki still utterly despised about the realm were its ‘grocery stores.’ They were crowded, lit by horrendous fluorescent lights and stocked to the brim with inedible, overpriced food; whenever he’d been asked to accompany one of his fellow Avengers on their shopping trips, he would come up with every excuse under the sun to decline their invitation. But he decided to put aside his displeasure for the benefit of his girlfriend and teammates, resigning himself to pushing the rickety metal shopping cart up and down the aisles as (Y/N) read off her hastily-written list.

Their shopping trip had gone far better than he’d imagined and in no time, they were carrying their bags into the lobby of the Avengers Tower.

“You know, we’re going to need an extra pair of hands to help us with the cooking on Thursday.” (Y/N) pointed out as they stepped into their team’s private elevator. “I’m not very good in the kitchen, as you already know, but I’ve always been able to bake pretty decent pies.”

Loki nodded. “All right, so who did you have in mind to help?”

At that moment, the elevator stopped and the doors opened to reveal the smiling face of his golden-haired brother. “Ah, there you are! The J.A.R.V.I.S. just informed me you had returned from your outing, was it productive?”

“…You could call it that.”

The tone of his girlfriend’s voice prompted Loki to glance over at her; she was looking from Thor to him, her eyebrows raised and a triumphant smile spreading across her face. Finally understanding her words, Loki’s smile morphed into a look of absolute horror. “Oh no, no, no, not him…!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Wait, you guys cooked all this? Without burning the kitchen down?”

Loki couldn’t help but give Bruce a pained look. “Believe me when I say that it was not for lack of trying, Doctor Banner.”

Since they wanted dinner to be a surprise, they’d prepared each dish in one of the kitchens used by the new S.H.I.E.L.D. organization; unfortunately, in their attempt to be secretive they were forced into cramped quarters with rather primitive kitchen appliances at their disposal. And to add to Loki’s growing list of responsibilities, he was forced to babysit the love of his life and his brother in order to prevent the dishes from being ruined by their absolute lack of culinary skills. More than once, he had to use his magic to protect the food he’d cooked from (Y/N)’s over-zealousness with the spices and at one point, he was forced to quickly talk Thor out of using his lightning to rapidly cook the turkey. Hopefully it’ll all have been worth it, Loki tiredly thought to himself.

As if in-tuned with Loki’s inner monologue, Bruce nervously adjusted the sleeves of his coat and replied, “Well, I hope this works and doesn’t just end up making everything worse.”

“You and I both, Doctor.” His eyes were drawn to the elevator as its doors opened, revealing (Y/N) and a cart filled with the feast they’d cooked, and he hurried over to meet her. “Everything’s going to plan so far, they think that it’s only the seven of us for dinner.”

With the help of Bruce, they went about setting the enormous table. “I just sent Thor to fetch Team Cap, so they should be here any minute.” Once they finished, (Y/N) removed her apron and smoothed out her skirt, her anxious expression softening a fraction as she turned to the two men. “Now we see if our brilliantly-insane plan will work.”

Loki had just enough time to lean down and press a reassuring kiss to his girlfriend’s forehead before the elevator doors once again slid open.

“Mmm, smells good in here!” Tony grinned, walking up to (Y/N) and handing her a bottle of wine. “I had Pepper ship one of my best labels over from Malibu for the occasion.”

Natasha did little to hide her amusement at his words. “You just couldn’t resist, could you? And you,” She turned to shoot Clint a glare. “If you don’t stop fidgeting, Barton, we’re going to have a problem.”

“I can’t help it, this stupid suit’s uncomfortable!” Clint grumbled; once Natasha returned her attention to the others, the archer rolled his eyes and whispered to Loki, “Damn straight jacket. (Y/N) forced you into one too, huh?”

“Yes, I-” The sight of Steve, Sam and Bucky entering the room behind Thor caused Loki’s words to die in his throat and as the others caught sight of them, he surreptitiously summoned his magic into his hands in case a fight broke out. Out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted Thor and Bruce exchanging weary looks.

Steve’s face was a mask as he stepped forward. “Stark.”

“Asshat.”

All Hel broke loose; Steve and Tony lunged towards one another, their struggling forms barely held back by Bucky and Clint. A cacophony of shouting quickly filled the room as both sides began arguing with each other, but just as Loki raised his arms to use his magic, (Y/N) calmly stepped forward and walked in between the warring groups. The shouting and struggling instantly stopped as they gawked at (Y/N), but she merely smiled warmly at them as she spoke. “Thank you all for coming to our Thanksgiving dinner, Loki and I are glad you were able to make it. Bruce mentioned that you usually don’t celebrate together, but this is my first Thanksgiving with you all and I wanted to mark the occasion with my new family…all of it.” Her words seemed to have their desired intent, as both Steve and Tony relaxed their stances and the others backed away from them. “Now, we should start eating before everything gets cold!”

Needless to say, dinner was a tense affair. Where there was usually the sounds of deafening chatter and laughter, there was quiet murmuring and stoic looks. Loki watched (Y/N) with equal amounts of admiration and sympathy as she tried her hardest to engage their teammates in conversation with one another and with each failed attempt, he could see a little more of her heart breaking. After learning the difficult truth about her parents and having lived so long without a family, (Y/N) deserved to have a wonderful Thanksgiving dinner with her friends. They all did, really. This has gone on long enough, Loki thought to himself as (Y/N) silently stared down at her plate; after a slight moment of hesitation, Loki got to his feet.

“I’ve done a fair amount of reading about this country’s Day of Thanks, and the custom of expressing what one is thankful for whilst surrounded by their loved ones piqued my interest. So, let’s begin.” Loki swallowed thickly, looking around the table at his teammates’ confused faces before settling on (Y/N)’s. “I’m thankful for you, darling. You came into my life at a time when I believed I could never be deserving of love and you showed me not only was I deserving, but that loving you would make me a better man. You’re the love of my life, and believe me when I say that all our lives have been blessed since meeting you.” Loki and (Y/N) shared a smile and as he turned back to address the others, he felt her take hold of his hand and squeeze. “And I know you may find this difficult to believe, but I am also thankful for all of you. When I first joined the Avengers, I was bitter and filled with resentment at the prospect of serving out my sentence on a planet I despised with people I despised even more. But after a short while, once we’d come to understand one another, you accepted me as your teammate and friend. Well, some of you more than others.” His eyes flicked to Tony, who hid his small smile behind his hand, and to Clint, who gave him a small shrug. “I value our kinship above all else and on this Day of Thanks, I implore you all to remember our bonds with one another. Severing those bonds on account of a petty disagreement is something you all will come to regret in the future; take it from me, I have firsthand experience in that particular department.” He and Thor shared a knowing look as he took a seat; although he wasn’t comfortable expressing his emotions so openly, the look of pride in his brother’s eyes had made it worth it.

The table was quiet for several moments, until Steve cleared his throat. “Well, I’m, ah…I’m thankful that after coming out of the ice to an unrecognizable world I was able to find such great friends and teammates in you all.” His azure eyes flicked hesitantly over to Tony. “We may not get along all the time or agree on everything, but that doesn’t mean we should allow ourselves to become divided.”

Tony’s face remained unchanged throughout Steve’s speech and when he got to his feet, Loki could practically hear the others’ sharp intakes of breath. The billionaire held Steve’s gaze for a heartbeat before offering him his hand over the table with his trademark smirk on his face. “Couldn’t have said it better myself, ‘Roid Rage.” The two men shook hands and the room almost instantly relaxed; Loki exchanged looks of triumph with his co-conspirators as dinner continued, satisfied that their plan had been successfully implemented.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Dinner was delicious, by the way.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it, darling, though I’m not sure what the others thought of it.”

“Well, they were a little too distracted to hand out compliments on food, wouldn’t you say?”

The pair had decided to spend the night catching up on their reading but instead of utilizing the library, they had made themselves comfortable in Loki’s bed with their books and plenty of blankets. Loki sat up against the headboard, his legs stretched out across the mattress and his ankles crossed, and (Y/N) was leaning against his side, her head resting comfortable in the crook of his neck and her free arm holding Loki’s around her waist. They sat in comfortable silence as they read their own books, occasionally permeating the tranquil atmosphere with light conversation.

“Um, Loki?”

“Hmm?” Loki could feel (Y/N) shifting beside him, so he tore his eyes away from his book and watched as she marked her page and set her book down on the bedside table. Setting his own book aside, Loki adjusted himself so he could see her face better. “What is it?”

(Y/N) bit her lip and played with the sleeve of her sweatshirt before answering. “We’ve been so busy planning Thanksgiving dinner and trying to get the team back together that we haven’t had a chance to talk about what you said the other day.” Loki’s brow furrowed in confusion, and the corner of (Y/N)’s mouth twitched. “About wanting to, um, have children. With me.”

“Oh.” Loki felt himself pale; he’d completely forgotten about his slip-up and being reminded of it caused panic to flare in his chest. “I-It was stupid, (Y/N), I just…we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, I only meant-”

His explanation was abruptly cut off by (Y/N), who had covered his mouth with her hand and was shaking with suppressed laughter. “I always love those rare moments when you’re the one to get flustered; a little line always forms in between your eyebrows.” She leaned forward and pressed a brief kiss on the spot before moving her hand from his mouth to cup his cheek. “I was surprised by what you said the other day because I didn’t realize that you’ve imagined the same future that I have.” (Y/N) shyly looked down but she reached for his free hand and intertwined their fingers together. “I may not have much experience with relationships, Loki, but I love you with all my heart and if there’s anyone I want to share that wonderful future with someday…well, it’s you.”

A grin slowly formed on Loki’s face; removing one of his hands from hers, he gently took hold of her chin and coaxed her to look at him. “Really?”

She nodded, her (Y/E/C) eyes sparkling with happiness. “Really.”

Surging forward, Loki held her face in his hands and smashed his lips against hers. (Y/N) made a sound of surprise before wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing back with equal vigor; Loki eventually found himself lying flat on his back while (Y/N) straddled his waist, one hand clutching her hip while the other traveled up and down her spine as they kissed. (Y/N) pulled her lips away from his and just as his throat made a noise of protest, she began kissing along his jawline and down his neck; needless to say, his annoyance quickly morphed to groans of satisfaction. Only when her soft lips brushed against a particularly sensitive patch of skin near his collarbone did Loki lose all restraint; he flipped them over so that (Y/N) was pressed against the mattress and after grabbing her hands and threading their fingers together, he held them over her head and hungrily attacked her eager lips with his own until an unfortunate lack of air forced them to break apart.

“I said I’d like children with you someday, Loki, not today!” (Y/N) exclaimed breathlessly, a dazed sort of smile illuminating her face as she looked up at him.

Loki let out a laugh before kissing her forehead and rolling off to lay on his back beside her; try as he might, he couldn’t keep the broad grin off his face. “Apologies, my love, but you’re entirely irresistible. If I’d known there were kisses like that in store for me, I’d have told you all that ages ago…”

Later that evening, (Y/N) was fast asleep against his chest and the sounds of her quiet snores filled the room as he stretched out on the bed in contentment. I suppose there’s only one thing left to do, Loki thought tiredly, pulling (Y/N) closer and glancing over at the bedside table that hid the engagement ring before sleep finally claimed him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Wow, that was a lot of fluff! Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wx8TZwpDN0l33tES3W3Nk

Chapter Fifteen

Spellbinding Masterlist

Tagging: @nexiva @ravenclawbitch426 @cminr @confusedfandomwriter @momc95 @nickkie1129 @austynparksandpizza @brooke0297 @destructivebliss @outoftheregular​ @itscomplicatedx​ @0-artemis​ @vivloki​

[teawaffles]

There’s No Business Like Show Business: Chapter 4

As Maya staggered away, the other members of the company sat down where they were, as if their strings had been cut. The large man who had praised Maya previously now pounded his fists on the floor in anguish.

“Goddammit…… not again.”

“…… ‘Again’?”

As Bond gave him a puzzled look, the man tried to explain in detail.

“Actually, this kind of thing has been going on for a while. Like he said, we’re quite famous in Whitechapel, so nobles who’ve heard of our reputation come asking us to perform on a whim. But they always cancel at the last minute, giving some reason about us being poor.”

“That’s horrible……”

“I haven’t been with this company long, but it’s already happened two or three times while I’ve been here. So for Maya, who’s been here since it was established, she’s probably seen these promises broken countless more times. But every time this happens, she always clutches on to some glimmer of hope and tries to encourage everyone. For her, I think, she’s probably been pushing herself way too hard.”

Bond thought back to how she’d looked when they first met at this theatre. Her brave figure as she’d clung on to the few chances they were given surfaced in his mind, and his heart was lanced with pain.

A sense of helplessness seized hold of him.

“Sorry, but could you go see if she’s alright? She probably wants to be alone right now, but it seems she trusts you quite a bit too.”

Bond nodded, and headed for the dressing room.

It was a narrow space. Seated on a chair, sunk into despondency, was Maya.

“Miss Maya. Are you alright?”

He knew there was no way she was alright, even as he’d asked that, but Maya returned him a slight smile nevertheless. Even now, it seemed as though she was on the verge of collapse.

“I’m, alright. But I’m sorry that you’ve wasted your time with us, Mr Bond.”

“I don’t care about that. It’s you and your company who’s hurting right now, isn’t it?” he asked with concern.

She shook her head.

“It’s okay. Somehow, I had a feeling, about this.”

Her smile turned into a lonely self-mockery.

“We’ve been here so many times, I think I’ve finally learned something. This time, too, I thought I could just give it my all, but somewhere deep down it’s grown cold. There’s no point in hoping anymore. Nobles would never give people like us a chance anyway. I knew that already, yet I still drew you into this…… Honestly, I’ve just come to hate myself.”

Perhaps it was because she was revealing her true emotions, for she sounded just like when she’d stood on stage: her words betraying no hesitation, and piercing straight through his chest. Those vacant eyes finally led him to understand why she’d chosen those three fairytales to perform.

“The Red Shoes”, “The Little Mermaid”, and “The Little Match Girl” — the protagonists of all three stories had one thing in common: they each met a harsh fate from which they could not be saved.

Maya herself loved children’s literature, and possessed a kindness in wanting to make her stories understandable by everyone. But on the other hand, perhaps unconsciously, she held sympathy for stories of tragedy.

“Even that nobleman said so himself, at the end. That at least, it was a nice dream. ……I think so too. For people like us, we just have to be satisfied with dreams. Even if we play kings and queens on stage, once the show is over, we actors will just go back to being helpless commoners. The thought of us succeeding in this world, will forever be a pipe dream.”

“That’s—”

“—absolutely right. Because reality is cruel like that. We should take these fairytales, these tragedies, and use them as lessons. ‘The poor should live their lives as befits their station.’ ‘Just perform the role you have been given.’ These rules have never once changed for a very long time.”

“…………”

You just have to perform the role you’ve been given.

Not too long ago, similar words had passed his own lips. [1]

In response to that, Moran had taught him to think and act for himself. And by immediately putting that lesson into practice, he’d finally been accepted by Moran as a colleague.

However, that lesson did not apply here: even if they wanted to do so, Maya and her company were not even afforded the opportunity to show it.

Their dreams had been trampled upon by an absurd reality. Yet despite his anguish, he was also at his wit’s end.

“——Bond.”

Just as he’d grit his teeth at his own inadequacy, he heard a voice from behind him.

Turning around, he saw Moran standing in the doorway of the dressing room.

“Wanna go outside for some fresh air?”

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

“What a bind, huh. Even though he’d cancelled on them unreasonably, since he manages the entire venue, they can’t do anything about it.”

Moran summarised their plight as he and Bond stood outside the theatre. The sky above Whitechapel was blanketed in smog brought in by the prevailing westerly winds, blocking the sunlight that should have been shining onto the streets.

“What will you do now?” Moran asked, as he lighted a cigarette.

“I don’t know. I want the world to recognise their talent and sheer effort, though it’s not like there isn’t a way to do that……”

Moran caught on to the ‘way’ Bond had been considering.

“With the help of Albert and the others, we might just be able to set up one licensed theatre for them.”

“But it would be meaningless if we did so.”

Using unlawful methods, or simply brandishing authority to solve their problems would be nothing more than plain arrogance. That, would be no different from how the nobleman had conducted himself.

“In the end, they must prove their ability using their own strength. We could help them as individuals, but recklessly employing any higher power than that would not be in their interest.”

“Yeah, I’m with you on that.”

Maya and her company had to fight on with their innate power.

Moran blew out a thin trail of smoke.

“Well then, other than their acting chops, I wonder what else they can use to show what they can do,” he said in a low voice.

Bond put a hand to his chin as he pondered.

“What else…… Well, they do have the trust of the East End residents——”

Just as he said those words, he was struck by a flash of inspiration. He turned to Moran, half in surprise, and the corner of Moran’s mouth twitched upwards.

“Thought of a good plan?”

Bond dropped his gaze to the floor as he mulled over his idea once more.

“If anything, it’s a strange one. But I have a plan. ……Moran-kun, did you know that I’d come to this conclusion beforehand?”

Moran flashed him a wry smile.

“’Course not. I just thought, if it’s you, you’d be able to come up with something no one else can think of.”

“…………”

It had not been calculation, but trust. Trust that he would be able to break them out of their quandary.

Bond chuckled in astonishment. That’s right — what had he been fretting about all this while? It was in his very nature to abhor doing things conventionally. In that case, he should break out of the rigid box he’d been pacing within, and seek out a solution within a larger scheme.

He gazed at the heavens. The sun was still on the other side of the grey, but he could feel a single ray of light shining through.

“Thank you, Moran-kun.”

With a wink, Bond thanked him from the bottom of his heart.

“Don’t thank me, you’re the one who thought of this. But from the looks of it, it seems you’re gonna do something interesting.”

“You could say that. But I may need you and the rest to do me a favour.”

“Got it. We’ve come this far — use me as you wish.”

With their conversation at an end, Bond entered the theatre once more. Now, he had neither doubt nor hesitation: the fog within his heart had lifted.

He headed to the stage with sure steps. There, the company, with Maya included, was in the midst of packing up.

“Mr Bond, has something happened?”

He looked much more determined than he did just minutes ago. For a moment, Maya’s doubts overshadowed her despair.

Bond faced them all, speaking clearly and with conviction.

“If you’re willing—— I have a plan.”

Footnotes:

[1] See Chapter 24 of the manga (“The Adventure of the Four Servants”).

[miscellaneous-obsession]

Hi, I'm not sure if you do requests but I came across your ongoing fic about Alcina Dimitrescu and the maiden. I was wondering if you could write an angst piece about the family involving Ethan Winters and him carrying out his mission in the castle (as hinted during gameplay)? You can make it as sad and gory as you want!

Ah thank you for the ask, I really tried to go all out with the piece! Also please note this was written before canon details of the girl's weakness was revealed.

The Inevitable

Warnings: Graphic violence, death of main characters, implied suicide, details of injury and blood, use of blades and guns and not suitable for minors.

Anguish consumed her entire being as sobs were ripped from her throat, each more violent than the last. Her chest heaved, becoming more breathless as tears relentlessly trailed down her cheeks, falling only to land on the creamy expanse of Alcina's dress.

Being the last to have turned, Ethan presumed her mortal connections of humanity lingered longer than most. The emotional intensity of the scene that unfolded before him forced him to avert his gaze as guilt threatened to tear through his heart. He was the cause of such destruction; he had laid waste, bringing about the death of a family in reparation and retaliation for the loss of his own.

He called them monsters, but there was always a chance he was wrong. Was it he who was becoming the villain of the story?

Forcing himself to face the consequences of his actions, his stomach turned. Recalling the events that led him to believe that the brunette was the first he had slaughtered. She had walked into the hall unsuspecting of the company hovering above on the bannister, perched in wait, ready to leap onto her frame. Unable to swarm and seek help from her sisters, Ethan had plunged a blade through the skin and muscle of her neck with such force even the crunch of bone and cartilage echoed alongside a gurgled scream. Her eyes had widened, arms flailing helplessly as her mind continued to fight, hoping that this was not her untimely end.

"Cassandra," the cry of her name rang throughout the expansive room and with force, Ethan was flung from his position over the fading woman. The redhead looked torn; anger and sorrow clashed together like waves against a cliff. Her bottom lip trembled as tears threatened to spill over with the force she blinked, a truly futile effort to contain them.

"You can't go, Cassie; who will I bicker with?"

Ethan had recovered by then, his heart aching with a drop of adrenaline as these sisters were forced to part, separated by planes of existence by his actions. The brunette now lay lifeless in a pool of her own blood, cradled by whom he knew to be Daniela. The very same redhead remained unguarded, vulnerable, and against his better judgement, he retrieved his gun. Solely focused on Cassandra's corpse, Daniela had less than a second to react as she unsheathed her sickle, refracting the bullet, so it embedded within wooden panelling rather than her head. 

"You bastard," with sloppy movements, she swung the blade that remained coated in her previous victim's blood. Advancing with ferocity, Ethan was compelled to retreat; his steps backward created a minute distance only to be quickly eliminated by Daniela's persistence. With both knife and gun in hand, Ethan continued to parry, deflecting potentially lethal blows, waiting patiently for an opening.

Two sounds followed in succession, first a second shot of the gun, then the thud of a fallen body. Not far from her elder sister lay Daniela, her body shaking as she slid across the marbled floor leaving behind an abhorrent bloody trail in her wake. Her effort was not in vain as she curled into Cassandra's now cooling body, hoping for a semblance of comfort in the absence of her mothers and only remaining sister.

Seconds later, the matriarch's wife stormed in, her fury no less palpable than her youngest’s. "No," her voice was soft as disbelief seeped in; ignoring the direct threat before her, she came to her daughter's side. The redhead forced a smile, hoping to alleviate the distress that crossed her mama's face.

"Mama," that sole word was enough for the maiden to hush the girl who she pecked on her forehead.

"Relax, Dani, you did so well, my darling. I am proud, so proud."

The slight smile, still as toothy as ever, cracked the maiden's heart, knowing it would be the last she caught from her daughter.

"Cassandra will be waiting, so do not fear, for you won't be alone."

The comfort Daniela sought was given in tenfold as always, and as she closed her two-toned eyes for the final time, she was only aware of her mama's delicate fingers carding through her hair. 

Much like her daughter, who had just passed, the blonde could not contain her pain at the sight of her deceased children. Although before Ethan could act, the two remaining ladies of the house emerged, summoned by the ruckus he was responsible for.

Bela surged forward after a single glance to her younger sisters; her protective nature had not dulled even in their deaths. On the other hand, Alcina flew to her wife's side, sharing in the grief that constricted their unbeating hearts. Never had she thought that a single man could enact such damage.

Bela was relentless, her anger conforming to her will and an advantage as she slashed with precision. Her blade getting too close for comfort for Ethan's liking, but he was prepared. Blocking and countering with his own attacks saw the blonde thrown off-kilter, her movements becoming sluggish as she expended her energy far too much over the course of the evening.

Observing her daughters struggles, Alcina moved to step in, only to be too late as Ethan used Bela's momentum against her. With her sickle wedged within the hearth of the fireplace, unable to rip it out in time, both blade and bullets penetrated her unprotected abdomen. The inhuman cry from Alcina sent Ethan staggering as she pulled Bela into her embrace, coaxing and pleading for her to stay awake. Quickly cream became crimson within seconds but was ignored in favour of re-joining her wife. Held safely in her mother's arms brought Bela a semblance of peace; she desperately wanted to stay but knew there was nothing to fear anymore, for she had her sisters to join.

"I'm sorry, mother, mama," she looked to them in turn as she spoke their favoured terms of endearment, eyes fluttering with each movement.

"Nonsense dragă mea, you were perfect." 

A small nod from the maiden confirmed Alcina's statement, confident that her daughter had succeeded. "Rest Bela," was the last thing the blonde heard as she slipped into an endless sleep, still held and cradled in the soothing caress that her mothers provided.

Only when they were sure did they let go, allowing Bela to lay by her sisters, placed with such delicacy it surprised Ethan. Only two to go; it was a thought that crossed his mind as both women stood, bodies stiff and ready to pounce as though they were predators and he was their prey.

Both matriarch and her wife were riddled with injuries by the end of the fight, Alcina more so as she had taken blows in an effort to save her beloved. Foolishly it was this notion, her own sentimentality, that brought about her end. Having collapsed her wife catching her with practised ease, Alcina was held against the blonde's chest. With an urgent need to convey her love, Alcina forced herself upright, seeking the lips of her maiden. Granting one of her last requests, her beloved closed the distance, savouring what would be the final kiss in which the matriarch would or could reciprocate. A hand rose to Alcina's cheek as she came to rest her head in the column of her wife's neck, fingers tracing skin with unparalleled tenderness. Ethan's own heart ached, he had lost his wife, his Mia, and he was the reason his ancestor was losing her own.

"I'll be with you soon, my love; I promise even death won't separate us."

Alcina hummed, although not in disagreement; she too did not want to be parted in the afterlife. "You are mine dragă mea."

"I am yours just as you are mine; that will never change."

Smoothing out tangled curls, the maiden pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of her wife's head. Seconds later, Alcina's chest stilled and only then did the final Dimitrescu shed her tears, leading to the scene Ethan saw before him.

"Where is my daughter?"

No success, her sobs continued to wrack her body, oblivious to the man's question as she pressed her face into the top of her wife's head.

"Where is Rose?"

He demanded louder each time, growing more frustrated with a lack of results he had hoped to achieve from this massacre. Eventually, without any patience left, he drew closer, his footfalls treading carefully across stained floors. Extending an arm, allowing a hand to come into contact with the blonde’s shoulder, snapped the maiden’s attention to the man who murdered her family, her innate fear of being removed from her beloved squashed upon meeting his bitter gaze.

"Why would I tell you anything, Ethan Winters?"

For once, he had no response, but she filled the silence with her resentful tone, despite her wavering voice and quivering lip. "You hold no more bargaining chips. You played your cards much too early. How foolish a man to have made such avoidable mistakes."

He scoffed as if to refute her statement; despite all of the stacking evidence that she was right, some small part of his mind refused to acknowledge or toy with the concept that she was wrong.

"You want a daughter you will not find; I will not divulge a secret of which I was entrusted with. For you killed my daughters, my wife, my everything. Nothing you can say or do could repair or undo the damage you have caused. You will leave here knowing you have failed."

With that said, the maiden prepared for the inevitable, for Ethan's weapons to end her life much like he had the other four Dimitrescu's at her refusal to share what information he desired. Holding her wife tighter and an arm resting across her daughters, she waited. But the blow nor bullet she anticipated came, leaving a hollow, empty sensation festering in her chest.

"I won't kill you until I leave with what I came for."

"Unfortunately for you, that is the opposite of what will happen."

Before Ethan could stop her, she grabbed her youngest’s discarded sickle, and for all to hear, she said aloud, "In life and in death, glory to Mother Miranda." The weapon was swung with force, finalising the end of the Dimitrescu household, allowing the last member to come to rest, still clutching her wife's body with a loosened grip.

Ethan had failed.

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

Only hours later, without hearing from his sister, did Heisenberg approach the castle. Lacking his lycans or other substantial back up he entered silently, aware of the games that may be ongoing. He did not want to spoil his niece's fun.

Entering the hall brought about a shock; in the light of the fires dying embers lay those who he had called his family. Untouched from the fight, Daniela was held between her sisters, flanked on either side, just as she had adored as a child. Alcina was to their right, body held by her wife, who distinctly lacked the sickle once embedded in her skin. The very weapon was strewn to the side, still marred by her blood. Those emerald eyes Alcina adored to talk of were now closed in respect, an unforeseen gesture carried out by none other than the man who wreaked such havoc before having absconded. The matriarch's wife had her arm extended, albeit stiff with rigour mortis, across the girls, forever comforting them in a maternal gesture.

Never did Karl anticipate an ending like this, although he was only thankful for their departure together, for they remained a family even in their time of death.

But for now, it was time to inform Mother Miranda of their demise.

[simpsiren]

Summer’s promise

xiaojun x reader

description. Your final moment with xiaojun at the beachside before the two of you go your separate ways. Or perhaps not.

genre. FLUFF, a bit emotional but bear with me im emotional rn <\3

word count. 2.9k~

warnings. nonee

a/n. i actually had a plot to this but realise that its not that good so ill limit it to this! its a very short and direct plot so cjdndn either way i hope you’ll enjoyyy

It’s three in the morning. Xiaojun had his fingers interlocked with yours as your hands met unintentionally at the back. You lean back while Xiaojun had his body forward. You rest your head on his shoulder, snuggling up in the crook of his neck while you find a comfortable spot. Eventually you did, breathing in to take in his scent.

The cold breeze touches your skin. Sounds of the waves crashing against the rocks you and Xiaojun are sitting on. You allow your legs to dangle freely on the edge. The night sky really setting the tone and atmosphere right just for the two of you.

“I don’t want to leave.” You mutter, lips brushing against his skin ever so lightly.

“You have to, love. Get back to your life in the city.” Xiaojun breathes out. Once again he calls you by the nickname love. A nickname you have grown to get too comfortable with in the short span of three months during your stay here.

“You know I’ll miss you.” You look up at him, your action causing to tilt his head down. Your eyes meet. His gaze staring into yours. It just feel so right, so perfect. To have you with him on a chilly night. For once, time has frozen for the two of you. You take in the moment quickly before it fades away.

“I said we’ll meet some day, didn’t i?” Xiaojun brings his free hand up to tuck a few strands behind your ear, you feel his chest moving up and down calmly as he tilts his head, taking a moment to admire every inch of your face.

You scoff, the side of your lip lifting up into a small smirk. “Uhuh. But you said to let fate do that for us.” You blurt out.

“Yes I did. And if fate doesn’t want us to happen, I’ll fuck it and find my own way to you. I just thought it’ll be a beautiful way to meet each other again.”

“Sending postcards of the cities we’re in? I’ll be in another country, Dejun. Still can’t get used to the idea but I somewhat see the beauty in that.”

Xiaojun chuckles softly. Oh the chuckle. No matter how many times you’ve heard it, it really still makes you feel some type of way.

His hand slowly creeps down to your waist, pulling you in closer to him. You lift a hand, you didn’t know where to put it. You just want to touch him. Absentmindedly, it arrives at his hair, threading your fingers through his soft and fluffy locks. Maybe that’s why your hand went there. To feel it for one last time before you leave.

“I want to stay here. With you. With your run-down, aesthetically pleasing tiny bookstore. I want to have you reading me poems. Or any book, huddled up in one corner while you read till I fall asleep in your arms.”

You let out a gloomy sigh, making Xiaojun put on a frown. You frown back, leaning in to give a quick peck on his nose to make him smile. And it worked. As it always did. And as it always should.

“What’s the time duration of letting fate bring us together again?”

Xiaojun purses his lips into a thin line, the gears in his head turning immensely as he tries coming up with an answer. “That’s for fate to decide too.”

You furrow your eyes, skeptical at his answer. “This summer... Has been the best one yet for me.”

“I’m thankful I agreed to Lucas inviting me here. I wouldn’t have met you otherwise.” You let out. The two of you stare into the blankness ahead of you, admiring the sight of the moonlight reflecting on the sea, giving it a beautiful glow.

“Promise you won’t forget me? Whatever we did during this summer. Don’t forget a single detail.” You start off.

Xiaojun raises both his eyebrows, allowing you to continue.

“No matter how long it takes for us to see each other. No matter where our life takes us. Whatever that’s going to happen in the future. Promise me you won’t forget what we had here.”

Xiaojun leans in and places a loving kiss on the crown of your head. He stays there, prolonging the kiss.

“I promise. It’s not an empty one, don’t worry. Like I said, if fate won’t allow it, I’ll still find my way to you regardless.” Xiaojun reassures you, his lips still touching your hair. He finally pulls away, wrapping an arm around your shoulders while yours creep to wrap around his torso.

And that’s the last time you saw Xiaojun. You stayed there till five, knowing you have to go back and pack your things before leaving.

You thought about what he said. Fate. He keeps mentioning it. But to be honest, you didn’t believe in it. Anything can happen during the time the two of you are apart. How long will it take for fate to bring you two together? Will he even remember you by then?

He promised but again, anything can happen. You were unsure and uncertainty clouded your thoughts throughout. You were scared, but you had to trust him. You had to believe. Xiaojun will come back to you.

Four years. You’ve been waiting for four years. The only thing that reminds you of him is the ring bought you. Cheap, but holds a deep meaning you can barely hold onto anymore. Your fingers fiddled with the ring for a moment.

“_____!” Lucas calls out. You quickly put your hands down and clasp them behind your back. “Yeah?”

“My friend’s having a wedding this weekend. Was thinking of inviting you.” You pucker your lips, looking up to think before tilting your head back to Lucas, nodding your head.

“Sure, why not?” You reply with a light shrug.

“Don’t forget to bring a date.”

Your eyes narrows as you cock up a brow. “We need a date to a wedding?” You huff out, scoffing lightly after.

Lucas hums and nods his head eagerly. “Duh! Plus, the wedding will be at some grand place since he’s rich. Lucky him.” Lucas says boringly with a glare.

“Yeah. Pretty sure he got that money from illegal racing.” You let out a ‘tsk’, shaking your head and acting disappointed.

“Uh no it’s legal, dumb.” Lucas retorts. “Anyways just ask someone from your work place. Oh maybe that YangYang? You’re close with him, aren’t you?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “Yeah.” You blurt out. Lucas smiles and walks towards you, placing a hand on your shoulder and patting it once. “I’ll text you the details.”

“You better keep your promise.” Yangyang bores you. The two of you are sitting down at a corner, watching the other people that were invited being social. Something the two of you have in common despite not relly liking each other that much.

You groan, placing your glass of alcohol on the table. “Yes, Yangyang. I’ll get you your damn cupcakes.” You growl. Yangyang chuckles, letting out a sigh after.

“Thanks.” He whispers. You let out a ‘tsk’ while throwing him a glare.

The two of you didn’t talk much. You had nothing to talk about either. It has just been comfortable silence between you two for the past two hours. You would heard bits and pieces of stranger’s conversation. That’s how bored you were.

You suddenly see Lucas running up to you, looking completely frantic. You shot up from your seat and catch Lucas in your arms. He stands up straight and catches his breathing. “He’s here.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Who? The groom?” You ask, tiptoeing to see across the crown if the groom has arrived. Lucas gapes his mouth open with furrowed eyes. “No, idiot!”

“I don’t know how, but he’s here. Your little beach boy.”

You give an even more skeptical look, making Lucas groan and grab your arms. “He’s fucking here after four years and you’re giving me that face?!”

“Yeah because I highly doubt you saw him. He’s literally countries away. I think you’re being delusional.”

Lucas shakes your body vigorously, making you scream and asking him to get off of you. He finally does, looking extremely frustrated with you. “Bitch I’m not kidding. He’s by the dessert area with some guys.”

You snort, laughing slightly after as the alcohol starts to seep into your weak system. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll believe it sure.”

“Is she already fucking drunk?” Lucas turns to YangYang, who was staring at a fixated spot in the venue till he was called. “She drank a bit yeah.” Lucas places a palm on his forehead.

“Chill, I didn’t drink. I’ll take care of her.” YangYang deadpans. Lucas lets out a disappointing sigh. “Well whatever. See you around man.” Lucas waves a lazy hand at YangYang. He didn’t even bother to wave back, turning his attention to you who had your body slouched forward while leaning against the table with your chin resting on the palm of your hand.

During the wedding, you weren’t paying attention to anything. The event, your surroundings. Nothing. Instead, you are constantly stealing a glass every time a waiter or waitress walks by. The moment they take your empty glass away, you take another one. Surprisingly, you got drunk . Very drunk. And very quickly as well.

You didn’t even know why you suddenly want to get drunk. You know yourself well enough to know that you would be dizzy by two drinks. You’re now on your fifth.

You stand up, wanting to go to the toilet. Losing your balance, you trip, causing YangYang to immediately hold you by your torso. You grab onto his arm, gulping before shaking your head. “I can go myself.”

“Where are you going?” Yangyang asks softly. “I need to pee.” You whine, pushing YangYang off you and slowly head there, clearly staggering and having YangYang help you along the way.

“Okay. I’ll be waiting outside. Don’t take too long.” YangYang shouts out while you go into the toilet, hands placed on the wall constantly throughout your trip in and out.

It didn’t take you long luckily. You thought you had to vomit but it turns out you didn’t.

“Oi. Xiao Dejun.” YangYang turns his head to you, his body leaning against the wall and folding his arms. He stands up straight, tilting his head and wondering if you’re referring to him.

You run up to him, wrapping your arms around your waist. You giggle for a moment before changing your expression to an angry one. YangYang wasn’t sure of how to react, he’s never seen you drunk before.

“Fuck you. It’s been four years. Where are you?” You whine, constantly punching on his chest with a balled fist. YangYang blinks his eyes in confusion while multiple eyes glance at you as they pass by thr toilet. YangYang clears his throat, lightly tapping your back as a signal to get off him. Obviously it’s not working.

“Dejun~ You little shit...” You mumble to yourself. You eventually allow your body to fall against YangYang’s, having him to catch you and hold you steadily while you dug your face into his chest.

“Get off her.” You suddenly hear a voice. You couldn’t make out where you’ve heard it from. It’s like the voice from a distant and clouded memory. You try squeezing your brain for information, constantly asking yourself where you’ve heard it before, but you blacked out almost immediately after hearing YangYang reply with a, “Who are you to tell me that?”

You wake up with your head banging, the world spinning as you have a bad headache. Wincing, you put your hands on your head, massaging to try reducing the pain. On top of you being a lightweight, you have terrible hangovers as well.

Fuck. You thought to yourself. It took awhile to get back to your senses, noticing how you’re in an unfamiliar place. Looking around, you’re on a bed. Large, comfortable and soft. The room looks plain, and you didn’t know where you are.

Did you have a one night stand last night?

As soon as the thought came to your mind, you look under the covers. You heave a sigh of relief, seeing that you still had your dress on.

You try getting out of bed, instantly plopping back down as your head starts to spin again. You whine, turning your body to the side as you dig your head into the pillow. You were so desperate in trying to do anything to stop it.

“Here’s some hangover soup.” You heard it again. The voice. The only thing you remembered from last night.

You hear the door open. Your eyes trail from the sheets, slowly but surely looking up to meet the gaze of him.

You squint your eyes. Your vision’s extremely blurry. Rubbing your eyes to get a clearer view, you are finally able to see the face in front of you. The sight makes you widen your eyes in shock. You move your body back quickly, your head hitting the headboard of the bed and making you wince in pain.

You hear him chuckle.

There’s no way.

“Dejun?” You mumble, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed in confusion.

He clicks his tongue, nodding. “Still a klutz after all these years.” You hear him say as he makes his way to you, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Wait. I’m not hallucinating? Fuck is it my hangover?” You scratch your head, still refusing to believe the sight in front of you is real.

After four years, he suddenly shows up with you in his bed. Xiaojun is here.

He lets out a quiet sigh. “I was at the wedding last night.” He explains, reaching out to put the soup on the side table before turning to you and crossing hus legs.

“How did you...”

“Some friend invited me.”

You kept silent, wanting to take a good look at his face. He still has it. His handsomeness. Sharp features that could kill like a knife. Hair perfectly wet, still jet black like how it was before. He didn’t change in terms of appearance. Or maybe perhaps to looks a thousand times better now that you’ve seen him after so long.

“How did you find me...?” You stutter. “Four years. It took your four fucking years.” You croak, suddenly letting your emotions fill your mind. You gulp and take in deep breaths, wanting to stop yourself from crying. Too late.

A single drop of tear rolls down your cheek. Your eyes welling up and about to overflow in seconds. Xiaojun wastes no time to pull you into his embrace, arms wrapping around you and holding you close.

This feeling. The comfort, the way he touches you. The feeling you get from this. It all comes back to you. It’s true that you remembered everything from last summer. But to have them resurface just from his single touch after being shoved deep in the back of the head.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I took so long, love.” The nickname. Another thing that makes you cry even more. You hug him tightly, hands gripping onto his black sweater as it slowly gets wet from your tears.

“How did you find me?” You ask again, looking up at him, indulging yourself in his eyes that look down on you filled with love and care.

Xiaojun frowns. “You sent me postcards from different cities. Every time I went there, you’d be gone and to another one. You don’t know how frustrating it was...”

You bit the inside of your cheek. Absentmindedly bringing your hand up from his waist and to his neck, drawing circles on it. “I traveled a lot. To get you off my mind. But I realise I always had to send you something. Something to hope that you’ll still remember be.”

“You said to let fate decide.”

Xiaojun lets out a low chuckle, one that makes a shiver being sent down your spine as you feel his chest moving from it.

“I waited for a year. But I couldn’t handle not seeing you. You didn’t start sending postcards till the second year. So I instantly started looking for you.”

His hand swiftly goes down to yours, his fingers trailing down your skin. Again, his touch, is everything to you. You suddenly feel alive. Even your headache went away miraculously.

“My ring...” Xiaojun mumbles under his breath, his thumb caressing it slowly. You hum. “I took it off for awhile actually. I didn’t think I’d see you again cause’ I thought... After our summer, we’d be nothing but ancient history.”

Xiaojun frowns deeply, making you pout. “Meanie. I told you I don’t keep empty promises.”

You lean in close to his face, so close that your noses were touching. “I’m sorry, I was scared. About the fact that three months wouldn’t mean anything to you.”

Xiaojun presses his forehead against yours gently, his action making you gulp while holding your hands and interlocking his fingers with yours.

“You mean a lot to me. The three months was short, yes. But the things we did there, you know I can never forget it.”

Xiaojun leans in more, this time to the point where his lips brushed yours while he speak.

You close your eyes for a moment. “I missed you.” You whisper, soft but sincere.

“I missed you more, love.”

[chalkrevelations]

SO, Episode 28 of Word of Honor was a roller-coaster ride.

(Spoilers, as ever, so scroll away and come back later if you want to see it unspoiled.)

They managed two entirely separate scenes in this one that had me going “Did … did that just happen? Is this really happening?” Let’s get this one out of the way first: The scene of Zhao Jing in his serial killer lair with the altar and memorial tablets and his serial killer trophies. Y’all. I swear, scene opens with a shot from behind of drunk Awful Yifu in his Fantasy Ancient China underwear staggering through a set of doors into a room with candles and draperies, and before I was able to register the rest of the set design, my brain gave a terrified squeak and started rabbiting around like, “Oh my god, please do not let this be Xie’er’s bedroom. Oh my god, they wouldn’t actually go there, not even hinted, surely that would be too far!” Then my eyeballs caught up and registered the set, so I thought I was safe, but that didn’t even turn out to be the moment in the scene that had me going “Is this really happening?” (Although I do think the fact my brain immediately jumped to that scenario speaks to the creepy vibe the show has managed to build between Awful Yifu and Xie Wang). So, Zhao Jing is a sloppy drunk and absolutely shitfaced, stumbling around and yelling at his dead brothers, and I’m sitting here watching him, feeling like I need a shower, with my skin a little bit trying to crawl off my body, and then he picks up Rong Xuan’s memorial tablet and pours an entire stream of alcohol out of the pitcher all over it, and I say, out loud, to the screen, “Oh my god, they just had him figuratively piss on that tablet.” Only, no, they didn’t, because there was no need to have him do it figuratively because then, he literally whips it out of his pants and takes a piss on the tablet, complete with sound effects, and I’m open-mouthed, thinking “Is this really happening?” As some background, I grew up in mainstream U.S. culture where ancestor veneration isn’t formally practiced - although it isn’t an entirely absent part of our cultural mythos, it’s just that now when I when I offer cultus to the Patres Patriae, it’s deliberate and intentional – but I’ve been doing ancestor work in my particular flavor of polytheism for long enough, and intensely enough, that I had a visceral reaction of disgust and horror to this. Hand literally clapped over my mouth in shock, even after watching all of his ranting at his dead brothers and spitting at his dead shifu and just generally being a disrespectful asshole with delusions of grandeur building up to it. So, yes, show, you have indeed convinced me that Awful Yifu is the worst, even in an episode that also devoted that much screentime to Prince Jin.

Fortunately, the other “Is this really happening?” moment was at the other end of the spectrum, somewhere in the face of how married Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing are, which I cannot believe passed censorship. I know I keep saying that, but every time I think I’ve adjusted to how far they’re going to go, the show laughs gay-ly as it pushes the envelope another mile down the road. Truly, this show is the gift that keeps on giving where these two are concerned, and not just because of Zhang Zhehan’s face. I realize I had to spend 50 episodes deciphering Lan Wangji’s smallest microexpression (not that I’m complaining), but I can’t believe how expressive both Zhang Zhehan and Gong Jun are in these roles, with Gong Jun’s little sadness eyebrows when WKX wants ZZS to humor him, and how soft Zhang Zhehan’s face gets when ZZS looks at WKX, and how great they both are at making all this look like a pair of adults who are in an established relationship and confident of each other. I’d be as weak as Wen Kexing if Zhou Zishu pouted at me the way he does when he tells Chengling that he can’t do anything to help decorate the Manor except observe and direct because he’s oh, so injured and frail, poor him. Wen Kexing can laugh at Zhou Zishu when ZZS pokes at him by saying the papercrafter was such a beauty! (Compare this to his reaction back in the day, when ZZS deftly manipulated him out of bringing A-Xiang along on their honeymoon adventures by calling her a beauty and implying she might draw attention away from WKX!) Wen Kexing waves kitchen knives at Zhou Zishu in (somewhat fond) exasperation! Zhou Zishu now accepts Wen Kexing piling his plate with food at the table as perfectly normal! There’s no crying in Spring Festival! They send their kid outside to watch the fireworks so they can have sex some alone time! (Merciless killers. How the fuck so adorable?) Someone must have backed up an entire truckful of money to the house of someone very important to get this aired, because what is the heterosexual explanation for … any of this?

Other thoughts:

We continue to get small things that maintain the parallels between Wen Kexing/Zhou Zishou and Gu Xiang/Cao Weining, including the mirrored theme of finding a home with a welcoming family, shown through family dinner, and expressed through WKX’s description of his former self as a “lonely ghost,” echoing A-Xiang’s self-description (to Shen Shen in an earlier ep) the same way.

HAN YING! Listen, I am stupidly attached to this bit player, and not just because he’s a familiar face (because half of Wen Xu’s screentime in The Untamed was just a disembodied head hanging at the entrance to the Unclean Realm, so it’s not like there was time to get … attached). And I say stupidly attached because ever since we first saw the way he looked at ZZS with big puppy heart-eyes, I knew he was going to be a goner. I just know they’re gonna fridge him for the next step in ZZS’s journey, because something has to pry ZZS out of Four Seasons Manor, as much as I, personally, would like nothing better than to see 8 more episodes of wedded bliss for two gay dads and their son. (OK, one thing I would like better would be if their daughter and son-in-law came to live with them, too.) At least it looks like Han Ying will get to die taking a figurative bullet for ZZS, which will make him happy and might prevent him from finding out the Glazed Armor he’s so proud of bringing is actually pointless, because don’t think that didn’t hurt to know while I watched him being so proud of managing to get his hands on it. But I’d prefer he didn’t die at all, show. Also, why on earth are there only two (completed) stories under the ZZS/Han Ying label on AO3? Because yes, I have looked. I have the search open in another tab right now. Why haven’t more people taken advantage of this guy’s utter devotion for ZZS? How are people looking at the way Han Ying reverently brushes his fingers over the single white blossom on the wall mural in ZZS’s rooms back in Prince Jin’s palace and not falling all over that?

Xie’er, oh, Xie’er. You’re killing me, here. I need someone to rescue you, you desperate affection-starved little sociopath. So, to recap, last time we met, your Awful Yifu finally let it slip that he was never ever going to acknowledge your existence in public. So now, you’re being a very clever boy, setting up a scheme to manipulate him into having to publicly acknowledge you if he’s going to claim credit for your successes (because I’m sure you can’t even contemplate failure) in service to Prince Jin. So clever, but I hate to tell you, you’re clever at everything except learning from your mistakes when it comes to your Awful Yifu. You really learned nothing from Beauty Ghost, did you? Ugh, your sad little face as you watch your hot mess of an Awful Yifu while you wait for the maids to make tea – it hurts me. Please tell me you’re playing some kind of long game, and you’re just a really great actor. Because he’s sloppy drunk, and right now, watching your face journey, I think maybe you think that makes what he’s saying true – that he’s not guarding his words, and he means it when he tells you that of course he loves you and would never leave you. “Are you still angry with me?” Awful Yifu literally asks. “Alright, I’ll apologize. I was just mad. It didn’t mean anything. We’re together in this. I’ll always stand by you.” Xie’er, you have got to stop believing gaslighting abusive men who shovel that BS. This is what they call the honeymoon period in the cycle of abuse. Seriously. This is textbook. Please stop making the same mistakes over and over again. Maybe think about the fact that your Awful Yifu is, single-handedly, the reason the Department of the Unfaithful actually exists in the first place. He is THAT AWFUL. I would like to think actually seeing his serial killer trophy room will make a difference, now that you have some confirmation of what Tragicomic Ghost told you and not the ability to wave it off as part of some he-said, she-said situation where how could we ever possibly know the truth, despite the fact that Zhao Jing has shown he’ll stab anyone in the back in his quest for power? But, then, I also thought maybe learning last ep that he never planned to publicly acknowledge you would make some kind of difference. Are you going to roll the dice again, gambler? Because I’ll tell you right now, the house always wins. (Not that you’d listen to me anymore than you listened to Beauty Ghost.)

(Also, wait wait waitwaitwait. Waitaminit. This is pure speculation and probably way too out there to be true (oh, but, someone’s going to write this AU for me, right?) Hot-mess drunk yifu tells Xie’er that they’ve been depending on each other “ever since I picked you up and brought you back home.” I can’t remember if we know anything about Xie Wang’s background at this point, but it does sound like Zhao Jing might have literally yoinked him off the street to raise him. He … he doesn’t think Xie’er is actually Yan’er, does he? Only he kidnapped the wrong orphaned urchin by mistake? I’m just sayin’, thinking back to Shen Shen’s reaction to finding out Zhen Yan was still alive, it would be exactly the kind of thing Zhao Jing would do, to keep this kid that his brother(s) wanted to find hidden right under their noses.)

Chengling and the chicken. I can’t, y’all. And Zhou Zishu’s face as soon as he realizes what Wen Kexing is telling Chengling to do – he knows this is going to be a show.

Prince Jin, you are almost as bad as Xie’r and his awful Yifu combined:

Prince Jin: Zhou Zishu, you mastermind, your super-secret spy network continues to spread everywhere, including into my very own palace. Oh, the things you must be plotting against me!

Zhou Zishu, chillin’ at Plum Blossom Manor, day-drinking, dressing up in pretty festive robes, taking advantage of his disciple’s unpaid labor so he doesn’t have to raise a finger for himself, and providing his husband with sex so incredible he is never required to actually cook: “OK, my gay husband and our son-with-two-dads, how about we just stay here together forever and be happy?”

Also Prince Jin: *Creeps on Zhou Zishu like a gaslighting m’fker*

Anyway, if Prince Jin always knew what Han Ying was up to all along, is the letter about ZZS’s father a plant, with false info? It was just kind of suspiciously hanging out in the open on Prince Jin’s desk.

[travellvogue]

Honeymoon Coast- Anyone You Like

it’s a long one, and one of my faves. i hope you love it (wordcount: 4.1k)

He’s trying his best not to stare, the dress you had on complimenting your skin tone so well. Body glowing under the rays of the sun, his own little ray of sunshine sat right next to him. The delicate pattern of his thumb brushing strokes back and forth over your hand painted a perfect picture of tranquility. 

“Y’know, the view over there is better” you whisper gently with a side smile, nodding towards the staggered chocolate box buildings, painted in an array of blush pinks, dusty yellows and cotton creams. The rolling waves a vibrant blue against the calmness of the sand. 

“No it’s not” he answers so effortlessly, a flirtatious wink making you giggle and blush under his compliment. “My views much better” he hums, twisting his fork around a clump of spaghetti, scooping it into his mouth, tongue wiggling around to beckon the stray piece that flops out of his mouth. 

Two glasses of white wine twinkle under the sunlight, tracing your finger round the rim of the glass over and over again, picking at the olives in your salad, regretting eating all the mozzarella balls already. Knowing you should have gone for the pizza, but your breakfast of croissants and fresh fruit filled you up this morning. Smiling at the recent memory, how you laid in bed, tangled under the crisp white sheets, his naked body next to yours feeding you strawberries and chunks of melon, giggling when he leaned forward to kitten lick the fruit juices off your chin that had dropped down from your mouth. 

It was the perfect start to your honeymoon. He’d remembered how you told him you’d love to get married in Italy and travel around after your wedding day. So he made it happen. First stop was Positano, where the two of you sat right now. A quaint little café tucked away in the peaks of the hillsides, a lemon tree hanging over your heads shading you from the afternoon sun. The calming noise of the waves rippling into shore partnered with the locals deep in conversation. Fresh plates of pasta and pizza filling the air with the most gorgeous aroma. The strings of a guitar being strung somewhere in the far distance playing a relaxing tune. 

Yet, all you could focus on was him, how his hair was supporting natural highlights from the sun's rays, the tip of his nose slightly sunburn despite you packing factor fifty on his face every morning, “stops you getting wrinkles” you’d tell him every time he complained about the stickiness. He’s dressed in loose navy swim shorts, the toggles hanging unevenly, a thin white shirt thrown over his sun kissed torso, the top four buttons undone so you can admire his muscular chest, dark rimmed Ray-Ban glasses pushed onto his hair, droplets of salt water staining the lenses. 

“What time is the boat ride?” you ask gently, leaning over the small circular table, stabbing your fork into his bowl of pasta, helping yourself to a mouthful as he giggles, well aware that the salad just wasn’t cutting it for you. He’d planned a boat ride for the two of you today, something you’d both desperately been looking forward to since you arrived in this perfect location. Wanting to sail around and explore the surrounding beauty. 

“Two o’clock I believe madam” he answers playfully, tapping the screen of his phone to check the time. Quarter to twelve, plenty of time to head down to the dock. With a few more mouthfuls of food the two of you were stuffed. Laid back on the wooden chairs comparing your food babies. Laughing when the waiter comes over and gives you an odd glance. 

“No don’t pay baby, my treat” you insist, grabbing at his hand before he puts his card on the table, unable to hide your smile when you feel the cold metal of his wedding ring against your palm. It was yet to sink in that you officially shared the same surname as him, for years he’d introduced you to people as ‘the missus or ‘my girlfriend’, now you held the title of his wife loud and proud. 

The wedding had been very small, only fifty guests. An abundance of florals, pampas grass and bubbling champagne, and as the sun went down you fell asleep to the sound of waves greeting the Italian sand. 

As you snap out of your daydream he’s already paying for lunch, giggling when you give him a harsh stare, unable to stay mad at that dimpled smile for long. He takes your hand and leads you out of the cafe, waving goodbye with a joyful ‘grazie’ to the staff. The warm air hits you instantly, a muggy breeze fluttering the bottom of your dress. Now away from the breeze of the sea front the temperature had seemed to pick up, his hand growing clammy in yours. Arms swinging back and forth in unison as you carefully walk down the steep roads towards the peninsular, the uneven cobbled roads under your sandals let you feel every rock and grain of transported sand from the nearby beach.

“I know we’ve just eaten but…” he holds his hand up to point at the shop you’re approaching. A quiet bakery hidden between a grand hotel and a small beach shop selling the usual ‘tourist tat’ as he likes to call it. The smell of warm freshly-baked bread billowing from its grand wooden doors, painted neatly with golden details. Newly bloomed bougainvillea flowers creating an arch over the entrance. 

“How can I say no to that?” you smile. Squeezing his hand once, twice, three times. Your sandals slap against the tiled floor of the bakery, overwhelmed with the amount of choice, smiling widely when you’re greeted with a friendly “Ciao!”. The two of you opting for a baguette and a loaf of ciabatta. He stands behind you, arms wrapped around your body, pressing a kiss to your cheek whilst you wait for them to package it up in crinkly brown paper bags. And once again he uses his rusty Italian skills to bid them farewell. Reaching for your hand instinctively and squeezing it gently, unable to wipe the smile off his face. He’d never felt happiness like this- of course on your wedding day his happiness was unmatchable- but the sense of complete contentment and tranquility was so overwhelming.

***

“Where are you taking me?” you giggle, holding his hand tightly as he leads you along a rickety old boat dock, the wood swaying slightly with each gentle wave that washed into shore. “Was this your plan all along?” you laugh, “To marry me and then drown me in the sea” he chuckles and shakes his head at your ludicrous imagination.

“You gotta stop watching all those murder mystery youtubers babe” a blush appears on your cheeks at his words, remembering how you made him watch endless videos with you on the plane journey out here, secretly you knew he was enjoying himself, the way he gripped your leg as he told you a theory he had about where one of the missing people might be. “We’re here baby” the snap back into reality couldn’t be more perfect, almost feeling like you were dreaming as he holds an arm out to beckon to the large yacht docked up in front of the both of you. The sea twinkling around it and the staff giving you a welcoming wave, offering you a hand to help you onto deck. 

“Are you serious?” you breath, walking onto the ship. When he mentioned a boat ride this morning you didn’t realise he meant a million pound yacht, something for someone in your position to just drool over as you pointed them out whilst your feet stayed firmly on the sand of the beach. But now your feet touched the decking, every step becoming completely overwhelming, not only was there two floors to this boat, there were several seating areas, your very own private chef, and a hot tub at the very front, giving you the perfect views of the bobbing ocean. “My love, this is insane! I thought you meant like… a little dingy” you giggle, pinching your fingers together to explain how small you thought the boat would be. All he can do is smile and shake his head. Something he’d always loved about you was the way you always stayed so grounded, cherishing every penny of your own and of his, never wanting any gifts or treats- despite him buying you quite a few over the years- you were happy with a chinese takeaway and a movie night, never expecting anything from him other then love and honesty, money would, and could, never buy your emotions. So a yacht, this was certainly something you’d never dreamed off. 

“You deserve this, my wife” he whispers gently, coming up behind you as you look out to the sea, the cool breeze blowing a strand of your hair against his jawline, gently leaning back against him, feeling his arms wrap tightly around you. The way he referred to you as his wife still hadn’t sunk in yet, the butterflies still coming to life every time he used your new title. “Plus…” his voice drops to a whisper, leaning in closer so his lips brush against your ear, “you’ve always wanted to have sex on a boat” despite not seeing his face you can picture his smug smirk, of course there was a deeper reasoning to such an extravagant choice of boat. You shake your head playfully and push against him, probably not the best choice of action because he can’t help but let out a little groan at the feeling of your ass brushing against his crotch. 

He manages to control himself for the majority of the boat road, smiling proudly as he watches you take pictures of the beautiful settings you sail past. Your beauty still shocked him, even after years together and a big diamond ring on your finger, watching your hair blow in the salty air, sun kissed skin and lips painted with your strawberry lip balm- that quite frankly he can’t stop himself from wanting to taste- he finds that he’s falling in love with you even more in that moment. He’d never realised home could be a person until you held him in your arms. 

“We should come here every year” you whisper gently, cuddled up on the sofa-like sunbeds at the top of the boat, the air slightly cooler now the sun was setting, half empty plates of fruit and nibbled at bread resting beside you, the sea still holding the same glimmer and shine it had this morning, reflecting the orange and pink hues off the waves. You’d thrown one of his shirts over your bikini, the thin white material rustling in the breeze, tickling at your bare skin, your hair fluttering into his face every so often, wafting the familiar smell of your apple scented shampoo into his nostrils. 

He only hums in response, leaning in to take the chunk of pineapple you were offering him into his mouth, too caught up in absorbing the beauty in front of him, with both the view of you and the never ending waves it was an overwhelming sense of content and happiness. “You don't want to?” you ask gently, not convinced by his response. A frown and a quick shake of the head convinces you a bit more.

“Of course I do” he whispers, lips pressed to your temple. “But I also wanna make love to you all over the world” he smirks, watching you playfully roll your eyes and desperately try to hide your giddy smile. 

His fingers trace the side of your jaw, angling your head so he’s got perfect access to your lips, the moon seeming to match the mood of the moment, the sky becoming a thick pink, waves gently crashing against the boat, rocking your bodies unwilling against the sun beds. “Why don’t we start now?” you almost whimper against his lips, trying not to sound like a desperate beg but it was hard when all you’d been thinking about since stepping foot on the boat was the thought of him fucking you to the view of the rolling waves. 

“Hmm right here?” he smirks, “I knew you were naughty but to have me fuck you whilst anyone could see… my wife’s a little minx huh?” he teases, brushing his hand down the side of your body, already getting to work with pushing off the oversized shirt you had on, the material falling off one shoulder, exposing your bare skin for his lips to attack. 

“Everyone’s below deck” you whimper, aware that he wouldn’t care either way, there was no way he wasn’t going to make love to you on a private yacht to the view of the Amalfi Coast- no one could pass up that opportunity. “Plus… you’re little friend seems to like the idea” your thigh pushes against the growing bulge of his shorts. Your giggle splinters off into a moan as he bucks against you, continuing to suck and nip at the skin of your neck. The wet patch in your bikini bottoms continues to grow, pawing at him desperately for something more. 

“Open up” he taps two fingers at your lips, doing as you’re told you part your swollen lips to welcome him, he watches your hooded lustful eyes whilst you suck on his digits, tongue skillfully twisting and licking. His other hand cupping firmly at the mound of your ass, helping you rub yourself against his thigh, slowly moving towards the front of your body. “Take ‘em off” he instructs, pushing at the material of your bikini bottoms.

“So demanding” you tease, humming around his fingers, a trail of spit connecting your lips to them as he pulls away, watching intently as you shuffle out of your bikini, pussy growing sensitive at the exposure to the cool air. Of course he wastes no time pushing his fingers against your entrance, skillfully tracing both digits along your folds, gathering your arousal at the tips. “Baby please” you whine, not wanting to be teased today, not when someone could walk up to the top deck and interrupt the moment. You cling on to him tighter, feeling his fingers push into you, slow and steady, your tight wet walls snug around him. You seem to clench around him in time with the waves rocking against the boat, the cool breeze helping control your body temperature, not wanting to leave sweat marks along the sun beds to give away what the two of you are up to. 

“Wetter than the ocean” he teases, scissoring his fingers inside of you, your arousal dripping against him, curling his digits upwards to brush against the spot inside you that has you squirming against him. He rests his forehead against yours, noting how your body heat radiates onto his skin, your cheeks flushed, steady whimpers falling from your lips. “Moan for me baby, let the whole of Italy know who’s making you feel good”.

An orgasm was quickly approaching you, a pinch-me moment overtaking your body as you look out to the shore line, sandy beach only entertaining the last few remaining people of the night, the orange glow of lights gleaming through the windows of the chocolate box houses, praying none of them are owners of binoculars or take a keen interest in boats- because they’d certainly get an eyeful if they wanted to examine the one you were currently laid on (or getting laid on to be more accurate.) 

“Cum on my hand” his words seem to resonate with you, your body obeying to his instructions. Legs becoming jelly-like as the knot bursts in your stomach. And the moan that was trapped in your throat pings into the air of the night, loud enough to make the staff downstairs freeze and listen out for a call, wondering if you were calling them for extra champaign. All you needed right now was right in front of you, poking you in the thigh. Whimpering at the empty feeling when he pulls his fingers out of you, clenching around the vacancy. 

The wind picks up a little, brushing through your hair and rocking the boat to the right. Both of you bracing for the captain to rush to the top deck, blowing your cover. Giggling a little when the boat straightens out and the rocking stops. “Fucking cockblock” he groans, making you laugh, tucking your head into his neck. Your blushed cheeks would certainly blow your cover. “Gotta be quick” he whispers, “Wanna fuck on the Mediterranean sea”. The ocean seems to talk back to him, a large splash and spraying droplets of water falling against your calves. 

He leans forward to catch your lips in a messy, clumsy kiss. Pushing himself out of his swim shorts, cock slapping against his toned torso, freckled tanned skin pressed against yours, your fingers drawing little hearts against his back, the outlines seeming to freeze when the tip of his hard cock brushes against your entrance, easily slicked with your arousal that stills lingers from your previous orgasm. His body hovers over yours, slightly leaning to the side to both keep his balance and to try and make it less obvious that he’s making love to you on top of a boat. Your hand wraps around his length, guiding him in the right position as if he hasn’t done it thousands of times before, but he can’t complain at the sight, something so beautiful yet filthy about your wedding ring sparkling in the light as you pump your hand up and down his cock. “That ring looks great whilst you wank me off” he moans, smirking when you let out a shocked gasp at his vulgar words. 

He can’t quite believe his luck when he sinks into you, in that moment he thanks god, his lucky stars, and everything in between. His beautiful wife, the love of his life, moaning his name in the middle of the Mediterranean sea. A dream brought to life. “God you feel good... every- fuck- everytime” he praises the feel of your tight walls wrapped around him, warm and wet, just like how they always are for him. No time is wasted, his hips moving in a perfect rhythm, you’re quite impressed that he can keep himself balanced with the boat swaying in unison with the waves. His cock was enough to make you a moaning mess, reminding yourself you can’t be too loud due to the company downstairs. Instead sinking your teeth into his shoulder to try and silence yourself. 

Pain is always something that turned him on, having a kink for anything involving spanking, choking, and hair pulling. So it’s no surprise when he throws his head back in ecstasy at the feel of your teeth grazing his skin, certain he’ll have a mark in the morning to remember the moment. It’s like you’ve read his mind, fingers pushing through his hair and grabbing a fistful, tugging at the roots with each thrust. With the pent up feeling of you wrapped around him as well as the added nipping and tugging he could nearly cum right there and then. But he’s learnt over the years of being together how to control himself, wanting to elongate sex with you, rinsing every second of being inside you.  

“Cum for me again baby, give me another one” he encourages, watching you feebly mutter something inaudible, pleasure messing with your words, sweat growing on your collar bone, rising up the skin of your neck and painting your cheeks a darker red. The rapid clenching of your pussy tells him you’re approaching your second high, thighs slick with arousal, painting his skin damp with each thrust. “You’re boobs look great” he says under his breath, hearing you let out a little giggle and whisper “so romantic”, quick to change that when his mouth trails down to your right boob, leaving a wet trail of kisses to your breasts, nipping one of your nipples between his teeth and grazing it gently. Against your boobs you hear him whisper; “you’re close, I can feel it baby, c’mon” with three harsh thrusts, shaking your body with each one. 

And just like that, with a loud whine and a cry you’re giving in to his words, pussy convulsing around his length, squeezing him towards his own high. His hand clamps over your mouth before you can scream his name for the whole of Positano to know, surely by now the captain and the staff must have an inkling about what you’re up to, they’d seen the eyes you were giving each other all day. The little slaps to your ass from him as you prepared to dive into the emerald sea, or how you sat on his lap whilst he fed you watermelon, his tongue licking playfully at your chin to capture the juices. 

Now his favourite juices soaked his cock, his baby scratching lines into his back- far less innocent than the hearts that were drawn on his skin earlier. Your bikini bottoms on the floor and your bikini top flooded by your boobs and they hang over the edge of the material. In that moment you’re both so free, nature housing such pleasure. 

He’s not far behind you, he couldn’t possibly be when your pussy grips at him with such force, dirty words encouraging him to coat your walls with his seed. “Cum for me hubby” it’s more the new title that does it for him. This was his life, married to a filthy little goddess, making love to you where anyone could see, yet in this moment it was only you and him- just like it’ll be for the rest of your lives. 

He frantically slaps his hips against yours, the overwhelming sensation to cum washes over him quickly, feeling the fire in this pit of his tummy grow bigger then it ever had before. “I’m gonna cum baby” he chokes out, the grip on yur hips becoming tighter, thrusting into you as he rapidly chases his high, “it’s gonna be so much, it’s- fuck- oh god” you can’t seem to string a sentence together, stuttering and shaking with each word. 

“Fill me up baby” you whisper, scratching at the back of his neck, “Drown me” you can’t help but let out a little giggle, “pardon the pun” he scoffs at your attempt of linking being on the sea with your pussy ‘drowning’ in his cum. Trying to hide his smirk, tongue licking his top teeth as he shakes his head. 

“Still making stupid puns whilst I’m balls deep inside ya… I married an idiot” he laughs, pulling you even closer to him, soon to choke on his own moans, hitting his high and spilling his seed sloppily inside of you, the sensation making your walls clench, draining him of every last drop of cum he can give you. Riding out his high with a few more lazy thrusts, pushing his cum deep into you, his rhythm faltered by the rocking boat, nearly losing balance when his wobbly legs push himself off of you. 

Now you’re a sight to behold, breathless, glowing with that freshly fucked look. Eyes watching him intently as he pushes himself into his shorts and lazily looks for your bottoms, knowing if his cum dripped out of you there would be a hefty fee for leaving ‘bodily fluids’ on the sun lounger. 

***

The stars start to poke through the dark sky, sailing back to shore in a comfortable silence, chests still rising and falling in a quicker manner then usual, regaining the normality of not being caught up in each other's bodies. His finger plays with your ring, yours plays with his. How a simple gold band could look so flawless on his hand. 

As the waves say one last goodbye, now twinkling under the light of the moon, the boat moors into the dock. Hand in hand walking back to land, still feel the rocking sensation as you get used to the solid floor beneath your feet.

“So…” he whispers, aware it’s late at night, a buzz of nightlife coming from the restaurant nearby, your arms swinging in unison.  “This time again next year?” he smirks, this certainly couldn’t be a one time thing.

 “See you then” you wink playfully, voice laced with sleep, ready to head back to the villa and be held in his arms for the rest of the night.

[little-writings]

Hi! I LOVE your writing and you're my fav writer for jumin 💖 Can you do a continuation of your fic 'Before I go to sleep' ? Where MC finally woke up remembering who jumin is? My heart aches for jumin and I would really like to see what happens. You don't have to if you don't want to ><

I think it’d actually be really fun to write a prompt of this sort! Especially since the ‘Before I go to Sleep’ is one of my favorite that I’ve written! Anyhow, I hope you enjoy and have an amazing day, thank you!

‘Before I go to Sleep’ Prompt

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You’d never quite realized how easy it was to start a fuss. After all, the only thing you’d done was say a name. 

You’d only just begun to wake when you felt a rise and fall pressed against your back -- a breathing body, comfortable and steady. You were in a room you didn’t entirely know, but you recognized. And when you turned your head with groggy, heavy eyes you saw a man you didn’t entirely know, but you recognized. Like the fuzziest memories of childhood, a fondness brimmed at your chest. 

A name even came to mind. 

“Jumin...” 

The man beside you shifted at the mention of his name. His sooty curls of hair brushed against your cheek before he raised his head lazily. His eyes flickered open, revealing a soft, velvety grey full of drowsiness. He looked down at you, brows furrowing in confusion as if he thought he might’ve imagined something. 

“What was that? Did you say something?”

You raised a hand to press your palm to his cheek, the edge of your fingertips brushing his hair and the warmth of his face sinking against your skin. “That’s your name, isn’t it? Jumin...?” 

He made a sound almost like a laugh were it not for the disbelief that was so strongly entwined with it. “Yes it is -- how did you-” He took in a sharp breath. “How did you know that?” 

You paused, thinking. “Well, why wouldn’t I? We look close enough for me to know your name.” You chuckled. “Unless I’m wrong?” 

“No... no!” He blurted out the last bit in a rush, his words stumbling out with a fumbling mind. “Would you come with me?” 

You nodded and Jumin hurried from the bed in an instant. He took your hands and led you out from under the blankets and the sheets. The sunshine spilled over your bare limbs and your feet stumbled onto the carpet, but Jumin was practically whirling. He guided you to the bathroom where a mural of photos was on display -- some featuring just the two of you with hands interlocked and smiles engraved upon your faces. Others had a small white cat with the most beautiful coat of fur you’d ever seen, and others featured a group of people with shades of red, yellow, and white among them, and happiness splayed about every one of them. 

‘Jumin Han’

‘Your husband’

‘Elizabeth 3rd’

‘RFA’ 

For each photo, you only had the faintest inkling of who they were and why they were important, but you had a feeling that was more than usual. You could almost make out names and places. 

“These are... our friends aren’t they?” You asked, fingers tracing over the photos. 

“They’re our life,” Jumin answered softly, just a few steps behind you. “I tried to get as many photos as possible to show all that we’d been through.” 

You found the wedding quickly. It must’ve been a grand event because your heart tugged at the very sight of it. 

“How long have we been together?” You asked. 

“Almost ten years now, coming next month. You’ve had this... condition for four years.” Jumin let out a deep breath, and as you turned to see him you noticed just how much he fidgeted. He tapped his knuckles, anxiously grappled with his wrist. Perhaps it tethered him, kept Jumin grounded. “But never once have you remembered anything.” 

“Not once? Not even the accident?” 

Jumin’s eyes widened like saucers. “You remember the accident?” 

The question had slipped without you truly knowing just what it meant. 

The accident. 

Something flashed in your head, deep within those memories that’d been locked away for so, so long. Chatter and laughter between you and Jumin as you sat close together in a car. The beaming sights of the city and the flickers of the traffic lights -- green, yellow- 

And red. Red. 

An eighteen-wheeler ran a red light when it slammed into your car and despite everything Jumin did to save you, it wasn’t enough. The vehicle still slammed into the remaining traffic and your head still careened through the glass. 

“I nearly died.” You muttered. “I was dead at the hospital for a few seconds -- wasn’t I?” 

All it took was that confession, that realization, for the tears to flow. All those thoughts and feelings flooding back in a horrifying break of pressure. Like the crashing of a dam, it was wholly and entirely uncontrollable. You remembered the pain of the glass smashing against your head and the shards that cracked on your skull. Jumin, hovering over you where the brunt of the metal of your mangled car stabbed him. His leg crushed beneath it all, and still Jumin protecting you. 

“Oh god-” You cried, tears flowing and a weight pressing against your chest. 

Your brain had spent so long coping how it knew best, how else could you withstand the onslaught? 

Jumin raced to catch you, but hesitated at the last moment, arms outstretched and worry painting every inch of him. “Can I...?” 

And then you remembered the first mornings after the mechanism began. How you looked at him and saw a total stranger. You’d screamed and clawed your way with all your might granted to you to the corner of the bedroom, and Jumin just as confused and bewildered as you were. In a moment he’d reached out to you, to explain, or just to offer the slightest bit of comfort and your panic reached a breaking point. You hit him. You hit him and locked yourself in the bathroom, clawing at your trembling body and searching for a single ounce of safety where none could be found. 

Only after had you counted to one thousand through shaky whispers did you feel secure enough to step out. 

There, in the living room, you saw Jumin and despite the fear that’d overtaken you minutes before, at the sight of him, what remained was pity. You couldn’t hear a sound and yet could still tell tears had been shed. 

How could you have done that? No matter the years that’d passed since then the pain and guilt was now. 

When you looked up at Jumin, arms outstretched, all you could muster was, “I’m sorry,” before falling into his arms. 

You stayed like that for a good while, even when you fell to sniffles and shivering. Jumin drew gentle fingers over your spine and pressed you close to his chest. His heartbeat was the only thing keeping you grounded, a gentle thump against your ear to remind you that you were here, and so was Jumin.

It was only interrupted by a knocking on the front door, and you knew just who it was.

“Are you okay if I leave?” Jumin asked quietly. “It’ll only be a moment.” 

You gave a weak nod, but that did little to convince him. 

“Are you sure?” 

Another knock. 

“Yes,” You reassured, sputtering a whimpering that was incredibly embarrassing. “Yes, go get V.” 

“V... you remember him too.” 

You heard hushed whispers between the two of them as Jumin brought V inside. He’d only aged a little, thicker frames for his glasses and a tighter grasp upon his cane. But you recognized him in an instant. 

You sniffled, rising slowly. How much his vision had further faded mattered little for you still offered him a smile. “Hi.” 

V gave a gentle grin, moving closer to take your hand in his own, ever so kindly. His heart only softened over the years. “Hi. How’re you feeling?” 

Your chin quivered despite your best efforts. “Not great.” 

V chuckled and gave a squeeze to your palm. “That just won’t do, will it?” 

Your therapist was given a brief call where for as much explanation Jumin attempted, confusion was ridiculously apparent on both ends. She fumbled for rescheduling the next day and wished you both the best but the pauses between every few words told you enough. 

And instead, V called the RFA. 

They’d come in a rush and one by one you recognized them like light bulbs flickering on. Yoosung. Zen. 707. Jahee. If only in the simplest, tiniest flecks you knew them.

“Are you sure they remember us?” Yoosung whispered to Jumin. “They seem... nervous.” 

Zen elbowed Yoosung’s side, his white hair tied up high and tight. “Wouldn’t you be? It’s like waking up from a four-year coma? Or something like that.” 

“It’s not quite like that,” Jahee remarked. “But the poetic sentiment is surely appreciated.” 

You couldn’t stifle the snicker that brought out of you. Jahee’s eyes brightened. “Did you think that was funny? D-Do you remember me?” 

“I do. You’re Jahee -- Jahee Kang. You’ve always helped me and Jumin, always.” 

Jahee adjusted her glasses so that sunlight could hide perhaps the faintest shine in her gaze, the ends of her lips turning upwards. “Yes, I uh -- I suppose I have.” 

“Well, what about me huh~?” 707 chimed, lazily drooping over Jahee’s shoulder. He soon found himself stumbling as Jahee stepped away, staggering to a stop just before you. He hadn’t lost his silliness, but he had steadied himself in his own way. “Remember me?” 

You nudged his shoulder, scoffing. “Of course I do! You talk too much for me to forget.” 

707 grappled at his chest in mock hurt but the boyish grin never left his face. “Ah! Try to have some compassion, I’m sensitive!” 

Jumin approached you and set a hand on your shoulder. “Don’t overwhelm them. I’m sure this is a lot to take in already.” 

“It is.” You answered. “But I want this, I really do.” 

The next few hours could only be akin to opening up a scrapbook that hadn’t been seen in ages. The stories told between you livened up both the room and your mind -- like holiday lights brightening everything in their wake. RFA parties,  anniversaries, and birthdays all those times that brought you together closer than family. 

Each member of the RFA had waited just as patiently as Jumin for you to come back. The whole day they couldn’t stop reminding you of even the most ridiculous of things you’d done together just so you could erupt into giggles and for all the sorrow and pain that’d arose in the morning you could feel joy at that moment. 

Only when night replaced the day and stars decorated the sky overhead did they leave -- and even then it was reluctant. The RFA refused to leave without a hug at the very least. Yoosung, Jahee, and Zen promised to come by in the morning, 707 promised more than a few calls, and V assured you he’d come by at the drop of a hat if you asked. 

Of course, just as the morning began, it was just you and Jumin. 

“How’re you feeling?” He wondered gingerly as he closed the door behind him. 

“Is there a word for when you’re excited but also overwhelmed?” 

Jumin laughed. “I think you described it perfectly. May I?” 

You nodded and he pressed a kiss to your temple, whispering sweetly. “You did so well, if it helps.” 

You sat down on the sofa with Jumin only falling behind at the sight of the television. He eyed it carefully. More specifically, he eyed the tapes beneath the television. “Would you like to watch one of these?” 

You pointed to the one you knew best. “How about the wedding?” 

The smile that brought Jumin made your very heart swell. He started the video without a word and sat down beside you. Your hands brushed beside one another and slowly enveloped like you’d done so many times before. 

The wedding followed just like you remembered. The music that filled the room and the two of you -- a surprisingly small ceremony with only your closest family. Even through the screen, one could see nothing but absolute adoration between the two of you. You practically hurried down the aisle. 

“Are you... afraid about tomorrow?” Nervousness began to bubble up inside of you, digging your feet into the floor. “About me forgetting in the morning?” 

“I’d be lying if I said no. Something like this -- it just seems too good to be true.” 

In the wedding, you’d begun exchanging vows. You could hardly make it through your beginning sentences without bursting into sheepish snickering. You couldn’t quite remember what Jumin murmured to you when you buried your head in the crook of his neck but you’d both laughed. 

“But I do know, that if something does happen, and you do forget -- we’ll take it one step at a time like we always have.” He softened. “It won’t change a thing.” 

Your eyes grew heavy as you watched the last few minutes of the video, Jumin’s vows as devoted and tender as words could possibly be. Your heart threatened to burst just listening to them all over again. 

“Well, in case I do forget,” You rested your head on Jumin’s shoulder, soon resting his own head against you in return. “I love you.” 

There wasn’t even a second of hesitation from Jumin. It was the last thing you heard before you fell asleep, and it quelled all of your fears for the morning. It was going to be okay, no matter what came. 

You’d do your best to say good morning when the next day arrived. 

“I love you too.” 

[modern-inheritance]

Modern Inheritance: Limits

Summary: “Brom, I just want them back! I don’t want anyone else to die and I want them back!” “I know, kid.” “…I hate this fucking war.” “…Yeah. Me too.” Everyone has a limit on what they can endure without cracking under the strain. Some people can move that limit when they must, push themselves a little further to shoulder more so that others don’t have to take it on or see them hurting. But often it’s those people who break the hardest when their limit is finally reached.

~~~

Arya stared up at the plaster coated stone of the embassy ceiling. The events of the last twenty four hours played over and over in her mind, threatening to drown out her attempts to rest.

Ajihad was dead. The man everyone had been so sure would lead them to the gates of Urû’baen was gone.

Even after a lifetime of loss, Arya felt Ajihad’s death hit particularly hard.

The man was a genius strategist and unparalleled negotiator. Under his guidance the Varden had not only survived but thrived even as Galbatorix increased his campaign against them.

That wasn’t all. He was not just a military leader. Ajihad had been a personal friend to Arya, Fäolin and Glenwing. Despite being decades younger than the elves, the fallen commander always kept his eye out for them and encouraged all three to speak openly to him if any problems arose. He was kind, just and one of the most honorable men Arya had met during the entire hellish war.

Unbidden, the memory of one of the last occasions Arya had spent one on one time with the Varden’s leader crept into her mind.

It felt like months had already passed, but just over two weeks ago Ajihad had strode into Arya’s tiny room in the medical wing with a thermos of her favorite tea balanced on a fresh set of her fatigues in one hand and a packet of notes in the other. Arya had expected him to give a few short condolences and exchange hurried niceties before launching into a formal debriefing about her captivity, the events that led to it, and the information that she had either collected or divulged during that time. It was procedure, after all, and with the Urgals army fast approaching Arya understood that there would be little time for anything but the necessities.

But the Varden’s leader did nothing of the sort. Instead, using mugs borrowed from the cabinet of the nurse’s station, Ajihad sat and shared tea while he talked with the recently revived elf. They sat together, Ajihad somehow still looking regal and powerful while relaxing in a ratty old chair and Arya sitting cross legged on the edge of the hospital bed, barefoot and shirtless but very grateful for the pants and sports bra that provided more protection than a the hospital’s light pants and open backed shirt.

Ajihad spent well over an hour telling her of the things that had gone on since she last left with Saphira’s egg. Everything from an incident where Coop, the one legged veteran who owned the Varden’s traveling bar, had used his prosthetic to knock out the instigator of a drunken brawl, to the Ingeitum clan’s recent efforts to restart production of small tanks and new artillery, was discussed. It was informal, relaxing almost, and for Arya it brought an almost desperately welcome break from the constant questions about her state of mind and the well meant but invasive queries about her captivity and torture.

The tea had long since been finished when Ajihad paused, the boyish grin left from telling of Coop’s improvised assault fading from his lips. He steepled his fingers and settled his elbows on his knees before asking if Brom had told her about the current situation between the Varden and the elves. When Arya answered in the affirmative, an edge creeping into her tone, he simply nodded. He knew that she would do everything possible to put relations back in order.

Still. She could see the questions in his eyes.

He didn’t ask them. Instead, Ajihad gave her sincere condolences on the deaths of Fäolin and Glenwing. He did not apologize for their deaths, nor did he dither on about what could have been or should have been done, but he recounted their strengths and character, how much they meant to specific people in the Varden, and how much their support had meant to him and Nasuada during the early years of his leadership. It was heartfelt, and held no awkward silence or uncertainty as to how to address their deaths. Ajihad knew the importance of acknowledging their loss, while also understanding Arya’s need for privacy in processing their deaths.

As he took his leave, Ajihad pulled three objects from the pocket of his vest and gently folded Arya’s fingers over them. The subdued gleam of two hammered steel badges, bearing the Varden’s seal and hanging from black ribbons, met her gaze when she carefully revealed the gifts. Under them, another medal, plated in dull brass with a sky blue ribbon, detailed a wolf leaping over a wall of snarled barbed wire.

As she tilted the medals in her hand, Arya’s breath caught in the back of her throat. Etched carefully into the metal so that they became clear when light shifted, the glyphs that she, Glenwing and Fäolin had chosen for the motto of their tiny special ops unit shined back at her.

With a sudden lurch Arya sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, chest aching.

Even in their deaths, Ajihad had provided Fäolin and Glenwing permanent proof that though they were not human, they would always be a part of the Varden. It was a thought that Ajihad turned to solid fact during his time as leader, ensuring that the elves felt accepted and trusted in the fight against Galbatorix. It was why losing him felt like losing a another part of the family Arya had found in the Varden’s ranks. A family that was quickly shrinking as the conflict reached the start of it’s crescendo with Eragon and Saphira’s arrival.

At the thought of family Arya’s mind turned to Nasuada. Barely into adulthood and carrying the same strength and wit that Ajihad often displayed, Nasuada’s love for her father was obvious. The two doted on each other as much as they butted heads, stubborn and unyielding in their conviction to help the Varden despite the danger.

If only I had been faster. She still couldn’t shake the sound of the young woman’s wail that reverberated through the tunnels. Even in the warren of passages that the Urgals had escaped through she had heard the agonized sound clearly. I should have used magic to drive the Urgals back. Then maybe Ajihad, Murtagh and the others would have gotten out.

Arya tightened her grip on the sheets, feeling her nails dig into her palms through the material. No. I can’t do this now. She squeezed her eyes shut and forced the lump in her throat down. Took several slow, deep breaths and settled back into the bed. There’s too much to do, too much at stake. Doubt and grief can come later. We’ll mourn later.

Right now, sleep. Then take the day one step at a time. The Council meeting tomorrow. Prep for travel back to Ellesméra. Keep an eye on Eragon and Saphira, make sure no one tries anything while we’re in chaos. Make sure the Council doesn’t try to steamroll Brom’s advice.

She breathed in again, closed her eyes. Loosened the fists she had made and forced her tired body to relax as she let it out. The tightness in her throat hadn’t gone away fully, and the heavy feeling in her chest remained. But it could wait. It would have to wait.

Keep on keeping on. It’s all we can do.

Resigned to sleep yet still uneasy, the elf subconsciously rolled over in the bed and reached out for the comforting, familiar warmth of Fäolin’s body beside hers.

Her hand fell through open air to land on cold, empty sheets.

Arya’s eyes snapped open.

~~~

Brom rubbed his face, chewing once again on the stem of his empty pipe. Arya had banned him from smoking in the embassy, but he was in no mood leave his room, much less go outside.

A heavy shroud covered Tronjheim in the wake of Ajihad’s death earlier that day. People were openly crying in the tunnels and crowded together for solidarity in their grief. The Rider didn’t want to be drawn into it. Instead he preferred to reflect on his emotions and the events alone with a shot of strong bourbon and his pipe. Sometimes one or two close friends were welcome, but the number of people he counted as such had dwindled over the course of the war till less than a handful remained.

Brom sucked in a breath through the pipe, tasting the remnants of his years of smoking in the wood. He hadn’t known Ajihad all that well, but the man made quite an impression on him the times that they had met face to face as well as when the two exchanged letters about the Varden. Brom found his decisions sound and his leadership to be well in line with the values that the Varden had been founded on. His death was a blow to the group for sure, both in a strategic sense and an emotional one.

The question of who would take over the Varden now haunted the Rider’s mind. Brom had been almost completely out of contact for the fifteen years he watched over Eragon in Carvahall, never mind the handful of years he spent infiltrating Morzan’s mansion. He had no idea who would be best to succeed Ajihad, but knew one thing: the Council was not to be trusted with the final decision.  

Brom growled in quiet frustration. In his opinion a majority of the current Council were a bunch of power hungry, manipulative jackasses.

But still…the Council was an important part of the Varden’s structure. Without them t–

Brom bolted to his feet, chair clattering to the ground as a ragged scream ripped through the embassy. The Rider was out the door and in the hall when a resounding crash followed not a moment later.

Brom staggered as Arya’s door opened easily, fully expecting it to be locked when he jammed his shoulder against it. He stumbled into the darkened room and stopped, feeling a twinge of tightness in his chest as he took in the somewhat familiar scene.

Arya was sitting on the floor below a fresh hole in the plaster that hid the pipes and utilities anchored to the stone walls. Her shoulders, littered with angry red and raw scars that peeked out from the loose collar of her nightshirt, shuddered every few moments. Her left hand clenched over her face to hide her eyes while her lips pressed tight together to prevent any hint of sound.

Her right hand was limp at her knee, torn and bloodied. Deep bruises already bloomed at her first two knuckles where skin still remained.

Brom carefully stepped over scattered chips of plaster and sank to his knees in front of the crumpled elf. “Hey now…” Arya’s jaw clenched tighter and she turned her face away from him at his soft words, still covering her eyes. “Don’t do this, girl. We’ve talked about this.” Gently but firmly, the Rider grasped the woman’s left wrist and tugged.

A long second passed as Brom kept up the pressure, feeling the silent trembling through the limb until she finally dropped her hand. Arya looked up at him through the tears that streaked her face.

“There we go.” He gave her a soft smile. Eragon was his son, it was true. But family reached further than blood, and he’d be damned if he didn’t see the woman before him as his daughter. He had watched her grow from a small child, eager to fight in the name of her people, to a woman that now endured a multitude of wounds in the hope that her deeds would lead to a better future for all the races.

It wasn’t the first time he saw her like this. Wasn’t the first time he had consoled her after years, decades of pushing aside her own feelings for the sake of others, for the sake of the war, finally shattered through her carefully constructed walls. She had seen him the same way before as well. They both knew it was not likely it would be the last.  

So he did what he had done before. What they both had done. “Don’t hold back, girl. I’m right here.”

Arya shuddered. Squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. But she didn’t resist when Brom pulled her into his arms.

Instead she gave a choked cry, seized a fistful of his shirt, and sobbed hard into his shoulder.

[wickedgamesoyaoya]

⇺ ⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂ ⇻

↣ Masterpost 

↣ inspired by @haik-choo​’s post 

↣ wc: 2.4k

↣ warnings: emotional pain, swearing, mentions of sex (not outright anything).

↣ format: mixed

↣  song recommendation:  5 Seconds of Summer - Lover Of Mine &  5 Seconds Of Summer - Ghost Of You

↣  preamble: atsumu miya never understands what he has until its too late. from a young age, he only focused on his own satisfaction and accordingly, his own pleasure. the only reason your relationship was able to stand the test of time was solely because of your accommodating nature. but sometimes, it still hurts… the lack of appreciation. would he truly care if you stopped leaving him little love notes in your shared apartment? would he notice if you stopped keeping pace with him during your morning walks? did he even care that you only woke up at the ungodly hour to spend more time with him? with those questions unanswered, some days you wonder if love should hurt this much.  

After winning five consecutive matches, a formal banquet was arranged to celebrate MSBY’s notable achievement. The guest-list was littered with numerous B list celebrities, with the occasional A lister promising to attend. What was originally planned to be a small gathering morphed into an evening gala that attracted media coverage, and a significant crowd. Some were desperate to secure an invite solely to catch a glimpse of one of the star players; while others were significantly more interested in the foreign chief that would be designing the menu for the function. Whatever the motivation, each attendee expelled an aura of excitement, one that was highly contagious. Accompanying the delectable atmosphere was a sugary scent wafting throughout the establishment. It was what Atsumu Miya deemed heaven on earth.

The blonde setter had the stem of a wineglass tucked between two fingers nonchalantly, occasionally swaying the maroon liquid as he surveyed those around him. He adored these gatherings for numerous reasons, one being the unnaturally attractive crowd it allured. Not that he planned on approaching any of them with nefarious intentions – he had a date after-all. The same one for the last four years. You. However, he refused to believe there was any harm in simply admiring from afar what he could have but chose not to. It provided him a rush of exhilaration, knowing that if he chose, he could secure the interest of any woman within the vicinity. Oh yes, if only they were so lucky. But alas, they were not. Simply having their attention and compliments was enough, he was disinterested in the satisfaction of sleeping with them. The truth was, while they were surely attractive, none of them would provide him the consistency that came neatly packaged with you. To be blunt, you were easy. Low maintenance, as he explained two nights ago to his brother. Even now, rather than remain glued to his side, you were somewhere in the crowd, mingling with someone unknown. He preferred it this way, and you knew it.

Half an hour before dinner was to be served, Atsumu was invited to take a shot with the MSBY Ace. Bokuto’s best friend refused to drink, vowing to return home early to complete a manuscript, and so he sought a new drinking buddy. But when he approached the setter, his thoughts of drinking were replaced with a newfound concern. Atsumu notified his team-mate that his hair required a quick touch up. His usual spikes were beginning to droop, resembling a withering flower.  

“Akaashi! Why didn’t you tell me earlier? Tsum, do you have any gel?” A pout registered upon his lips as he attempted to sharpen the ends of his hair using his index finger and thumb. What if someone caught a photo of him appearing less than satisfactory? The Ace, ordinary or not, should appear extraordinary on a night dedicated to celebrating him (and his team-mates).

“I don’t think it looks that bad, Bokuto-san.” The black-haired writer shook his head, prior to bringing the rim of his coffee cup to his lips. Okay, maybe he could have something earlier. But to his defence, he had only noticed the imperfection now. With a wave of exhaustion weighing over his eyelids, he was less perceptive than usual.

“You know lying to him ain’t gonna fix the problem, right?” Atsumu shifted his narrowed gaze at Akaashi questioningly, something the other male did not appreciate. “And do you really have to ask? Of course, I do. Come on.” The blonde tapped against his lower jacket pocket, where a thin container of hair-serum was kept.

“I’m going to my seat. I’ll meet you there when you’re done.” The comment was directed solely at Bokuto, in a tone that indicated the writer would rather not spend any ‘quality’ time with the setter unless forced to. The brunette was not his biggest fan to say the least.

“I’ll be back soon.” He was well aware that his best friend and team-mate were not particularly fond of one another, placing distance was perhaps the best available option. Once the writer was no longer present, the pair began walking towards the bathroom. “Say… Tsum, where’s y/n?” Instinctively, the Ace’s golden irises searched the space around them for your familiar face.

“I dunno. Somewhere. I’m sure I’ll see her at the dinner table, since we’re sitting together.” The disinterest laced in his tone startled the other male, who failed to mask his bewilderment. Atsumu ignored the puzzlement that shined in his team-mate’s eyes, dismissing the action with a limp shrug before entering the bathroom first.

Bokuto trailed in a second later, pausing at the mirror with a hand extended forward. “You guys are really weird.”

Retrieving the container from his pouch, the blonde handed his team-mate the gel then began adjusting his own appearance, beginning by ushering aside some fallen strands. The observation that was offered only brought a little laugh to exit his mouth. “Yeah? Why do you say that?”

“You don’t act like a real couple.” Bokuto did not intend to respond immediately, particularly because he desired to avoid the stare he was now receiving through the mirror. The lack of hesitation was not well received by the MSBY setter.

“We don’t need to abide by norms to be a couple, Bokkun.” Despite the sour taste curling around his tongue, Atsumu managed to maintain a smile on his lips, finding humour in his own explanation.

“Alright, so is that why you haven’t proposed yet?” The white-haired Ace mentally scolded himself for his lack of restraint. He should have bit his tongue. Oh, if only he bit his tongue –

However, this was not the first time the question was posed to him. In fact, two days ago, it was exact topic that resulted in a very heated argument with his twin-brother. He truly did not understand why proposing was necessary. You both already lived together – was that not enough?

“It’s not that serious.” Tugging at his sleeves, the setter then adjusted his cufflinks. “I love her, but I’m not sure she’s the one. I don’t know if I can really give everything up forever, for her. For the time-being, I don’t mind. But I’m not giving everything up just yet.” The final sentence uttered by the blonde was more of an affirmation to himself, one that did not register well with his team-mate. It seemed that everyone but Atsumu could see how much you did for him. His unappreciated nature was rather toxic.

“That doesn’t sound like love, dude.”

No. It certainly did not.

They say that the truth will always be revealed sooner or later. Perhaps Atsumu Miya’s true feelings would have been revealed later, if he chose to lower his voice and restrict his sincerity. Had he known that you were outside, he certainly would have taken some precautions. But how could he have known that you were searching for him, when you ran into Akaashi? Who unfortunately knew exactly where he was?

How many warnings were issued by your friends over the years? Dozens? Hundreds? What would they say now? How many red flags did you ignore? 

How curious how easily you confused ache for butterflies.

The strain circling inside of your temples morphed into a throb as the liquid distorting your vision began spilling down your cheeks, dragging your mascara along with it. Behind you someone whispered your name, fear gripping their throat and muffling the sound. But you were unable to recognize who the voice belonged to, as you no longer held the luxury of having a stable state of mind.

Lifting your trembling fingers to the area below your eyelids, you stumbled attempting to discard the substance hanging on your lashes. “I need to go. I… Oh, I’m stupid. I just… I need to leave. Please.” Sluggishly, you shifted your body to face the person who addressed you earlier, seeking any aid that was offered. You couldn’t face him. Not now. Maybe not ever.

“I know. Come on.”

Sakusa Kiyoomi accidentally stumbled onto the scene just as Atsumu began responding to the inquiry. He was not staggered to hear the cruel statements fall casually from his team-mate’s lips. Similar statements were uttered in the locker-room on numerous occasions. It was your reaction that tugged at his heart. No one deserved to hear the one they loved speak with such venom, and certainly not you. “Let’s go before they come out, shall we?”

The thrill of partying as a newly single bachelor provided Atsumu Miya temporary satisfaction. Each night a stranger’s mouth was attached to his, as he clung to them, desperate to combat the vanilla scent that circulated in the apartment, even weeks after your departure. How many girls had now laid in the exact spot you once occupied on the bed? Dozens? And yet, every morning when he awoke, he continuously thought it was you in his arms, and not someone whose name he did not bother remembering. His endeavours to erase you were fruitless. Not due to a lack of effort, but because the truth was… He didn’t want to forget you.

It took a month for the realization to settle in. No longer interested in the meaningless sex that was offered by mistresses of the night, he found himself unable to leave the apartment unless there was a match scheduled. It was the only location where he could feel some connection to you. Particularly when intoxicated, he swore he could hear you whisper soothing sentiments into his ears, dispelling his fears that you no longer loved him.

But each morning, reality would register once more, providing him a metaphorical jab to his chest.

Today was no different.

It had been forty days since the gala. Forty days to mull over how just how much you did for him, and just how little he did for you. It wasn’t always like this. Over the years, he became too accustomed to your giving nature. Soon, he developed a toxic mentality that he was entitled to everything you provided. But it wasn’t always like that. It wasn’t. At least that was what he repeated to himself, hoping it was the truth.

After downing a liter of water, the throbbing in his head had dimmed to a tolerable level. And once the lights no longer strained his eyes, he reached for his phone, determination igniting in his heart. 

“Hi.” The greeting was exhaled softly into the phone, as anxiety prompted your heart to beat irregularly. The uncertainty of what would be said by your former lover had your thoughts tangled into an incoherent mess.

“Hey. Thanks for talking with me.” Atsumu pressed a fist against his mouth, muffling the small whimper that threatened to sound. Oh fuck. You actually picked up. A single word overwhelmed him with the storm of emotions he usually suppressed with alcohol.

A little hum was given to acknowledge his gratitude, it was honestly the best you could offer. But it was unlike you to be so quiet. The thought that he impacted you this much only expanded the guilt he was suffocating in.

“Was I always this bad?” The setter’s eyes stung with fresh tears forming along his lids. Did he even deserve to speak with you now?

Inhaling a lengthy breath of air, silence greeted him for a minute as you mustered the courage to respond. You knew you should hate him. and yet, hearing the tremor in his voice broke your heart. Was it really your fault that you still loved him?

“You weren’t.” You prayed the words were audible, since you were unsure whether you would be able to repeat yourself.

The blonde found the slightest bit of relief in your response, although it only eased a tenth of the tension he was battling to contain. Swallowing once, he strived to stabilize his breathing.

“Will you give me another chance?”

You caught onto the small crack in his voice, symbolizing his distress and sincerity simultaneously. But you wished you hadn’t.

“Atsumu. I can’t be with someone who doesn’t see a future with me.” Even now, stating a reminder of what you heard activated the emotional wound you spent the last month attempting to heal. Could you truly ever get passed this?

“I can’t see a future without you in it.” He interjected, not missing a beat. He refused to deny it any longer. He was an idiot, but he loved you. It was more than the fact you were low maintenance. He knew that now.

“I feel like I wasted four years, do you understand that?” His confession promoted a swarm of butterflies to parade inside of your stomach, but the mental reminder of your friends scoldings kept you grounded. Pretty words would not heal the damage. Not this time. “I’m sorry. I can’t waste any more…”

“You won’t have to, y/n. I promise. Let me take care of you this time. It will be different.” At this point he was essentially begging you to place trust in his promises, even if he had no credibility.

Maybe it was unhealthy how much you wished his promise to be true. How desperate you were to lower your armor and envelope him into your embrace instead. You knew your friends would never approve of him, but his pleads were weaved together with a vulnerability you had never heard before. Before you could stop yourself, the one word the setter was waiting for left your mouth. 

“Okay.” Dropping your face into your palm, you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip. 

The second you agreed, the blonde was already on his feet, fetching his keys before rushing to the front door. It had been so long since the setter was flooded with joy, he could barely contain himself. “Where are you? I’m coming to you now.” Clicking the lock to a close, he nestled his phone against his shoulder.

Upon hearing the shuffling in his background followed by his question, you instantly shot up to your feet, feeling a surge of hope enter your system. “Don’t you have practice soon?” You certainly did not expect this. Not at all.

Pausing in the middle of the hallway, he blew out a scoff. “I don’t fucking care. I need you in my arms now. Text me the address and I’ll be there. I fucking love you, y/n I love you so much. I’ll never let you go again. I promise.”

It should be noted that he wholeheartedly intended to keep that promise, and thankfully… he did.

Taglist: @idiot-juice-enthusiast​ @shakiraisawesome​

[vannahfanfics]

If Love Was A Color

Category: Mild Romantic Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Katsuki Bakugo, Ochako Uraraka

Additional Tags: Quirkless AU, Soulmate AU

Katsuki’s red eyes zeroed in on the word outlined in the fine print stretching across the six-inch-thick book in front of him. While many of the students congregating in the library would find the massive treatise daunting— especially considering its contents were as dull as the lightbulbs flickering in their dumb heads— Katsuki absorbed every syllable. Committing laws to memory was no easy task, but he embraced the challenge. After all, one day, he would be Japan’s most renowned prosecutor. 

Katsuki’s eyebrows twitched as the loud giggling of girls disrupted his concentration. He glanced over his shoulder with lidded eyes to watch two first-year students clutching coffee cups stroll by.

“So you met your soulmate in Introduction to Biology?” one asked, a pretentious-looking girl whose ponytail looked tight enough to rip off her scalp. 

“Yes! He’s so handsome and so dreamy! He wants to be a doctor; I can’t believe I lucked out with someone so smart and driven!” the other squealed as she pressed a hand to her flushing face. Her cheeks darkened as her friend joked that she should just drop out and marry him since he’ll be so rich; the girl laughed and insisted no, she couldn’t, how improper… But Katsuki could see the wheels turning in her head. He scowled as they disappeared behind some shelves, but their giggles floated behind them, clouding Katsuki’s study sanctuary with obnoxiousness. 

Katsuki hated the concept of soulmates— or really, love in general. First of all, it was so fucked that there was some predetermined person you were miraculously just supposed to commit to spending your life with. What if they were a bitch, like that girl who would rather slide right into a rich man’s pockets and had no work ethic? What if they were some bum who lived in their mother’s basement? It burned Katsuki up inside, the fact that he was supposed to just accept someone without them earning his approval first. There was no way in hell he would let someone ride his coattails off the pretense of love. He had way too much to worry about anyway, as a college senior. 

Still… Sometimes he had to admit that having monochromatic vision was a problem. Although the world adapted to the fact that people were colorblind until they met their soulmates, most people actively sought them— so by Katsuki’s age, most assumed that you had colored vision. He had to continually nag his professors for including color-coded charts and the like in their lectures because how the fuck was he going to differentiate? Still, that problem could be solved just by making waves— and Katsuki was damn good at that. 

Ugh. I have a headache now, listening to those two bimbos prattle, he scowled, rubbing his temples as a dull pounding made a home in his skull. He pushed away from the table, leaving the open books and notes behind to walk the short distance to the coffee shop that adjoined the university’s four-story library. As he stood in line to order himself a plain black coffee, silently reciting the laws he’d just memorized in his head, he didn’t notice the door slam open and someone flurry into the small shop— that is, until they plowed into a chair, tripped over it, and slammed right into Katsuki’s back. 

“Uwahhhhh!” they screeched. With a surprised yelp, Katsuki reflexively arched his back as their face crashed right between his shoulder blades. Crimson eyes wide in confused, he whirled around to face the clumsy stranger— 

and then recoiled because color exploded into his world. He groaned as he staggered back into the display, eyes twitching as his previously inactive rods and cones sprang into life to fill his vision with a million different hues. He held his hand over his eyes, trying to adjust to the thin slivers of color peeking out through his fingers, and watched as a short, round-faced girl with a bob cut slowly straightened up while rubbing her nose. 

“Ow, ow, ow,” she whined pitifully before cracking an eye open. Katsuki gawked at the dark, warm hue that filled her irises, the same color as the tables’ rich wood— brown? Was that brown? Her hair was the same color, so if she was a brunette, it would make sense. Slowly, he lowered his hand from his eyes, squinting as the pain ebbed. She raised her head, mouth opening to apologize— and then she inhaled sharply. 

“Wow. Your eyes are such a beautiful color.” 

Katsuki could feel the heat rush from his toes to the crown of his head. His mother had always told him he’d had crimson eyes like rubies. The girl continued to pore over them, a serene smile blooming on her face before it dawned on her. 

“Wait, wait, wait, I— color? But that means we—! You’re my—! Oh gosh!” she spluttered. Katsuki winced as she slapped her hands hard to her cheeks, causing the skin to bloom pink there— pink, yes, that was the color of blushing. She continued to squirm wildly, entirely overwhelmed by the situation, before she managed to squeak out a sentence. “I’m Ochako Uraraka! It’s very nice to meet you, um, soulmate— Oh, that sounds so creepy!” she wailed and tugged at her chestnut tresses of hair. She looked apologetically at him. Her face turned a deep burning red. “Let me try this again… Your name, what’s your name?” 

“Katsuki Bakugo.”

The barista called him to take his order, so he turned on his heel and did. As he was handing a few bills over the counter, Ochako scampered up behind him to peek over his shoulder. 

“A plain black coffee, huh? You see the type!” she chirped. “I like sweet things— iced coffees with lots of cream, sugar, and flavored syrups are delicious! My favorite flavor is Irish cream— hey, where are you going?” she whined as Katsuki ignored her prattling to take his coffee and begin walking to the exit of the store. He grimaced as she followed after him, swinging her arms and hips a little so that the little planet glitter charm— it was dark, could that be purple?— on her bookbag swung back and forth. “We’re soulmates, right? We should get to know each other, don’tcha think?” 

“Sorry,” Katsuki huffed as he pushed the door open. “I don’t do the whole soulmate thing.” 

He tried not to think of the pitifully sad look on Ochako’s face as he closed the door right in it— but he found that it stuck in his memory for the next three days until he came to the library again. 

She had some determination; he would give her that. She found him in his little nook, leaning his chair back on two legs as he pored over another law book— one that had a blue binding, Eijirou had told him. He didn’t even notice her approaching until he heard the soft tap of a cup, and he looked up to see her standing there, smiling pleasantly as she slid a black coffee towards him. 

“You’re a diligent student, I see. Studying pre-law?” she observed with a point at the book cover. Katsuki snorted, half-debating ignoring her again and rejecting the coffee, but he was running on empty. Why refuse free caffeine? Though he loathed small talk, he supposed he could entertain her for a few minutes, as thanks.

“Yeah,” he answered as he picked up the cup and sipped at the steaming hot beverage. The tension melted from his shoulders as the robust flavor of the roasted beans hit his tongue; it wasn’t long after that the caffeine kicked in, giving his dulled senses and attention a nice buzz. He noticed Ochako slip into the seat opposite him, continuing to smile with those big brown eyes of hers sparkling. He saw the purple planet charm— Saturn, he realized— sitting atop her backpack, so he pointed to it. 

“Astronomy?” 

“Aerospace engineering.” 

Katsuki released an appreciative whistle. He hadn’t expected that of the bubbly girl, and despite his reservations, he had to respect her challenging curriculum. She puffed out her chest with a prideful grin and continued, “I want to design rockets!” 

“A space case for a rocket scientist. That’s perfect,” he snorted with laughter, making Ochako puff out her cheeks in defiance. Now that he noticed, they looked so soft and round… He almost had the urge to pinch them and feel how squishy they were. Almost. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m a little spacey, but it doesn’t matter as long as I can solve the equations, does it?” she retorted haughtily. Katsuki shook his head, muttering a “Guess not,” and she reclined in her seat with a satisfied smirk. Katsuki’s crimson eyes fell back to the law book he was osmosing, and he could see her watching him intently above the tops of the thick pages. “What do you want to do?” she asked slowly. She seemed to be getting the hint that he didn’t want to be bothered for long, but there was a stubborn glint in her eyes. 

“Prosecute,” he quipped, not looking up at her. 

“Wow! That’s an ambitious goal. It takes a lot to be a government prosecutor.” 

“Yeah, it does— a lot of studying, which, if you don’t mind, I would like to get back to,” he huffed with more venom than he meant. A strange sinking feeling washed over him as he watched the girl sink a little into her chair and her smile fold down at the edges. Silently, she got up and slipped her backpack on, mumbling a half-hearted “see you later.” As she began to leave, he cleared his throat. 

“Thanks for the coffee,” he added with a frustrating heat rising to his cheeks. Ochako glanced at the half-empty cup, then back to him— and her smile returned a little sliver. 

The next time they ran into each other, he was in line to get coffee again. She came in afluster, face scrunched as she pored over a notebook scrawled with mathematical equations; she was so absorbed in her calculations that she didn’t notice Katsuki standing in front of her, nor that he ordered an Irish cream and hazelnut coffee with extra cream in sugar. As he turned around, she shuffled forward thinking he had exited the line and bumped right into his chest. Her round cheeks pinkened and she looked up to squeak out an apology, but it died in her throat when she noticed it was him. 

Wordlessly, he held out the coffee to her. 

“To pay you back for the other day,” he explained as she took it, looking at him like he’d given her a ring instead of an iced coffee. She hid her bashful smile behind the white lid, slowly turning her body from side-to-side. As they moved out of line, he gestured to the messy array of numbers and letters on the pages. “What’s that? Looks intense.” 

“It’s an extra credit assignment. If we solve this equation, we get ten bonus points on midterms… But it’s presenting quite a challenge,” she groaned as she scratched at her scalp with the end of her pencil. Smiling, Katsuki pulled out a chair for her and she automatically sank down, her brown eyes never leaving the paper. It was kind of cute, the way her eyebrows scrunched together and her lips poked out in a thoughtful pout. Katsuki found himself softening as he gazed at her; though it definitely looked like a challenging problem, the sparkle in her eyes indicated that she was rather enjoying it. 

He liked that. 

Wait a minute, he realized, his train of thought derailing and veering off a canyonside. The gears turning in his brain threatened to overheat and spin out of control as he considered what he had just actually thought. Him, liking Ochako? No. No, no, no. That wasn’t possible. Katsuki didn’t do love, he didn’t do dating, he didn’t do soulmates. 

“Good luck with your problem. I gotta go,” he blurted, using his hand to hide the blush creeping onto his face. Ochako looked up with a confused gasp, but he was already marching out the door. Dimly, he could hear her meekly call, “Thanks for the coffee…” 

As he stalked down the sidewalk, oblivious to the cloudy gray sky and the pattering rain beginning to sprinkle down from the heavens to dye the white sidewalk a deep slate, Katsuki’s mind was whirling. He tugged at his ash-blond strands of hair with a deep, guttural growl. He couldn’t like Ochako. He wouldn’t like Ochako. He’d always sworn that he’d never fall into that trap; he’d never take stock into that soulmate bullshit. It was just his subconscious; it had to be! He didn’t have a crush on her. It was just the internalization of all that soulmate propaganda trying to trick him into thinking he had to like her. 

Right? He didn’t like Ochako. He didn’t like her sweet soft voice, or her warm brown eyes, or her big broad toothy smile her rosy round cheeks complimented so well. He didn’t find that little purple Saturn charm endearing, nor the way she pushed her fingers together when she was nervous, nor her little thoughtful pout and scrunched brows. He didn’t. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. 

Katsuki stopped walking. He tipped his head up to stare defeatedly up at the cloudy gray sky. Gray. He hated that color now. It reminded him of a time when the world was just that— gray and lifeless and dull. Just Katsuki and his law books, all in monochrome. 

Now the sky was blue, and so were the bluebirds nesting in the eaves of his dorm. Now the grass was green, as were the leaves that rustled in the trees lining the walking track by the gym. Now the sun was yellow, like the buttercups growing in front of the library. Katsuki’s eyes were red, like Eijirou’s spiky red hair and the apples he insisted on crunching on every morning though Katsuki hated the sound. Now grapes were purple, like Ochako’s glittery Saturn planet charm. 

Now hearts were pink, just like Ochako’s warm, squishable, cute little cheeks. If Katsuki had to pick what color love was, it would be pink. 

He dropped his head down with a sardonic chuckle. The water dripped down from his drenched hair to run down his face in rivulets. Pink, like Katsuki’s face every time he clapped on eyes on that clumsy, space case, chubby-cheeked cutie who happened to be his soulmate. 

Damn it. He was in love with Ochako. 

The slick sidewalk squeaked under his tennis shoe as he whirled on his heel to sprint back to the library. He surprised Ochako as she was walking through the double doors, making her compulsively chuck the notebook forward. She gasped and reached out as it spiraled out into the rain; if it landed in a puddle, the black ink on the pages would bleed into incomprehensible smudges, and she’d never get that extra credit she was working so hard to earn. Katsuki caught it as it sailed over his head, slowly bringing it to his chest to shield it with his body. 

“K-Katsuki?” Ochako asked uncertainly, looking him up and down. He probably looked a sight, clothes and hair soaked from the rain and his chest heaving from the feverish sprint. 

“You wanna know something? The first time I saw you, I couldn’t help but think that your eyes were the most beautiful color,” he whispered. It’s true, he loved the pink shade her cheeks turned— but nothing compared to that warm chocolatey brown that sucked him in and embraced him in warmth. 

“I… I thought you didn’t do soulmates,” she swallowed, pushing her fingers together. Katsuki walked forward with a soft smile, holding out the notebook to her. 

“I changed my mind,” he said while reaching up to brush a strand of her soft brown hair out of her face. He then grinned devilishly and pinched her cheek, making her squeak in protest. “Can’t resist ya, Cheeks.” 

“What happened to Space Case?” 

“You’ve been upgraded. Congratulations.” 

Ochako blinked at him, then began laughing. She took the notebook back and hugged it to her chest, airy giggles making her shoulders shake a little. Now that he heard them from Ochako, he supposed those girly giggles weren’t that bad. 

This soulmate thing… He could get used to it.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[explodingsynapses]

@gimme-a-chocolate challenge Together with you is my favorite Place to be.

The original challenge was for gifs but my talents are very limited there.

Four-part ficlet stretching across canon and post canon from Lan Zhan's POV. Missing scenes and internal thoughts. Read it below or here on ao3.

 Together with you is my favorite place to be

Library Pavillion: transcribing rules as punishment

Lan Zhan stares at the slumped, slumbering form of Wei Ying a few chi away from him. His head had dropped to the desk, the ink has stained the scroll where he was copying the rules.

Considering Wei Ying’s atrocious penmanship is a mockery of the art of writing, the stain does little to hurt the poor shape of the scroll.

Lan Zhan knows he should not let him sleep. This is a punishment.

Even in his waking hours, he has been dawdling or chatting off Lan Zhan’s ears.

Lan Zhan also knows that despite transcribing the rules around sleep several times, Wei Ying does not sleep at night. He does not need to catch the wayward disciple each night to know that.

The yawns and bags each morning have been enough of an indicator.

He skipped lunch today. He had missed breakfast. And he had been picking on his dinner yesterday.

His various bemoaning monologues about eating grass have informed Lan Zhan sufficiently over his aversion to GusuLan food. Lan Zhan doesn’t condone the entitlement.

But if he lets Wei Ying rest a little longer, hearing to the soft, barely-there snores; then he is not being indulgent. He does need to care for the health of his charge. If he has been allowing this for several days, well Wei Ying will simply have to spend more days in the library wrapping up his punishment.

Lan Zhan does not even pretend to try to work. Once he had thought that the first disciple of Yunmeng Jiang would be less of a distraction if he was quiet or sleeping.

The past few days have corrected him of the misguided notion.

It is not the snores. And perhaps, it is also not the fault of the person slumped in front of him.

It is not him that is allowing the breeze the ringlets of his hair across the cheek. It is not him who humphs and scrunches his nose deliberately. It is not him who is presenting his hand spread wide, each finger open to the inquiry of Lan Zhan’s eyes. It is not him who smudges ink on the side of his lips. It is not him who constantly compels Lan Zhan to ogle at the mole under the lower lip, or sleepily swat his tongue down at it.

He drools sometimes. Sometimes, there is no snoring. There is just a gentle rise and fall of Wei Ying’s chest that tells him that the man sleeping like the dead is in fact in deep slumber. It is hypnotic, that movement.

Sometimes the smooth lines of the face furrow, the eyebrows bunching. Sometimes the fingers stiffen, perhaps a nightmare. Until they smoothen out slowly.

Lan Zhan has long thought that Wei Wuxian smiles like the sun.

It is this time, a shichen in between the discipline in the library that the light is not merely in the smile. Something about Wei Ying alights things, and Lan Zhan just basks.

He hasn’t been so content merely by the presence of someone for so long.

****************

In the aftermath of The Tortoise of Slaughter

His leg is throbbing. His palms and fingers sting with the cuts that using Chord Assassination against the Tortoise of Slaughter has left.

Wei Ying is passed out in his lap. Lan Zhan has passed him spiritual energy. He has hummed his heart out at his zhiji’s request.

He does not think Wei Ying would remember. He is not even sure if both of them will survive this cave.

They are injured, have very little spiritual energy, no food, no clean water.

Wei Ying is running a fever and he is not letting go of that sword he found somewhere inside the shell.

It reeks of resentment.

Wei Ying is delirious and has nightmares. His face contorts in agony and the one hand free of the sword grabs at Lan Zhan’s robes, clenching hard as if trying to hold on.

Lan Zhan hums the song in that instance. It’s his first instance of comforting someone. He uses his sleeve to wipe away the forehead. He threads his fingers through Wei Ying’s matted hair.

And he speaks aloud, saying his Zhiji’s name in a soothing tone. He tells him that help is on the way. He tells him that he is not alone and whatever darkness is chasing him, Lan Zhan would fight it for him.

When Wei Ying is calmer, Lan Zhan thinks of his home, his brother, his uncle, his sect.

He thinks of the time they have been given.

He understands his mother a little better in that cave. He had often wondered why she had remained in Cloud Recesses, why she did not fight for more time with them. Why put up with it all?

He looks at Wei Ying’s sick, delirious form, hears his soft whimpers and movements.

He would want Wei Ying to be in better health. He wanted a lot of things for Wei Ying, with Wei Ying.

But in the absence of them all, this time still was a treasure.

Wei Ying was here. That is all that mattered.

Perhaps that is all that had mattered to mother too. Any time with people you love is better than no time at all. Any place with people you love can hold fond memories.

*****************

In the Jingshi: After the Sword Spirit attacks Lan Qiren

Wei Ying never sleeps early, so Lan Zhan expects him to be loitering in Jingshi on his return.

He finds the lamps dim, almost fizzled out, and panic grips him.

Surely, Wei Ying wouldn’t just leave. He barges in the door and finds him sprawled near the dinner table.

Dead, no, he can’t be dead.

Wei Ying’s back rises and falls.

Just asleep then. So much weight leaves Lan Zhan’s body that he staggers and slinks down silently on his knee. He just wants to wrap Wei Ying and hide him away and…

It is a familiar enough sight, Wei Ying sleeping away on a desk. It makes him feel hollow. And it makes him feel so full.

Lan Zhan does not need to taste his tears to know that he is crying, but he tastes the salt all the same.

Over time, he has made peace with his tears. He sheds them freely for Wei Ying, always has, indifferent to the reproach of others.

It is hard to reconcile this. For the longest, everything around him has been marred with unadulterated, indelible, ubiquitous grief for this one man.

His Wei Ying, his Zhiji, his …..

For sixteen years, Lan Zhan had tried to hold on to the peace and the light being near Wei Ying had brought to him. He remembers grasping at faint traces of it even as pain and darkness shrouded him and giving it all to A-Yuan.

He had forgotten the feeling of being able to see this gentle rise and fall. He had forgotten the music of those soft snores. He had forgotten what it felt like to have Wei Ying living, breathing, near him; and not being hostile or distrustful.

Lan Zhan had probably hoped for this very sight for ages, murmured it in quiet prayers, strummed in longing tones of their song, and now Wei Ying was right in front of him and Lan Zhan did not know what to do.

He had never thought he would feel alive like this again. He had never thought that one moment every instance of his life would not need to be in memory of Wei Ying.

This isn’t a mere memory. Wei Ying is here, alive. He is gaunt, the cheeks have sunken since the library pavilion. There is weariness in the body. But those are the same fingers, and there is the same mole under the lower lip.

The eyebrows are furrowed. This Wei Ying does not know how to rest peacefully. That luxury was taken away a long time ago.

He is still the brightest light of Lan Zhan’s existence.

The night after Wei Ying turns around on the hill with his crinkly smile

The inn room is comfortable and warm. That’s good. Lan Zhan knows by now that Wei Ying feels colder in the absence of his core.

Wei Ying does not look worse for the wear. That is a relief.

He is still thin. His hair is still messy. His body cricks when he moves. There is dirt under his fingernails. His skin is getting dry and taut. His clothes are clean but worn, and not nearly warm enough for the weather.

Lan Zhan is making a list of all the things that need taking care of.  

Wei Ying may be made of brilliance, but he is hapless when it comes to his own needs.

It does not matter. He is still Wei Ying.

Wei Ying pads out from the bath beyond the privacy screen in his threadbare inner robe. His feet are wet and they leave stains behind as he drags them across the room.

If Lan Zhan had put in relaxing herbs in the bath and might be to blame for the sleepiness in that gait, well he happily takes all the blame.

Wei Ying sleepily gets to the table, sleepily talks away as Lan Zhan serves him food, pours him alcohol.

The inner robe clings to the slightly damp body, and the hair is a mess of tangles. The eyes still sparkle through the haze of sleep, and that tongue is as much a tease as it ever was.

Wei Ying dozes off as he is sitting, once he is done eating. One moment he is regaling Lan Zhan about the flavors of a distant town and one moment, his eyes are drooping, his mouth is hanging slightly open and his body is starting to slump.

Lan Zhan catches him, stands behind him, and pulls Wei Ying’s head against his own abdomen.

He moves his fingers through the hair. They are a mess, but they are a soft mess.

And he clicks out in disapproval, “You need to comb and braid this so they don’t tangle.”

Wei Ying is half dozing and he makes a small noise of confusion but there is no protest.

Lan Zhan pulls out his oil and comb from the qiankun pouch. He needs to fix his zhiji’s hair.

His fingers thread through the tresses, pouring oil into the roots. He hears an appreciative hmmm as Wei Ying leans further into him.

The hair is combed and braided.  Wei Ying had taken to steadily humming their song somewhere in between, but it stops once Lan Zhan’s hands have stopped touching him.

“I did not know the Chief Cultivators could take night hunts, Lan Zhan? How long are you here for?” Wei Ying asks.

“Not a night hunt,” He responds, as he starts to clear the table and place the tray outside their room.

When he turns around, Wei Ying is slightly more awake and staring at him in some confusion.

“I did not know there was sect trouble in these parts. I swear I am very well informed about the gossips here.” Wei Ying says, a little put out.

“No trouble,” Lan Zhan shakes his head, then adds after a pause, “Only Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying does not need Lan Zhan to speak to understand him most times, so Lan Zhan is not surprised by the shocked widening of eyes and an immediate, incredulous inquiry, “You came to see me?”

Lan Zhan hmms in affirmation.

Wei Ying gets into a tirade of how he has behaved, there should be no one complaining to Lan Zhan about him, how sorry he is.

“Wei Ying,” He says with great patience, “I simply missed you. Besides, if someone had the gall to complain, they would find themselves being corrected.”

“Miss me?” Wei Ying whispers in the same incredulous tone, “But you did not have to come all the way here Lan Zhan. You should have taken a decree out and ordered me to show myself to Cloud Recesses.”

“You do not like Cloud Recesses. You left for a reason. I will not make you do things you do not wish to do. Other people have spent a lifetime doing that. You deserve better.”

Wei Ying is opening and closing his mouth for several moments, and then he takes a deep breath and says, “I left for a reason, yes. Cloud Recesses is your home. It is your favorite place. It has your brother, uncle. It has A-Yuan. It has rabbits. And now it is your seat as the Chief Cultivator. The Yiling Lazou does not make sense there.”

Lan Zhan blinks and stares at Wei Ying and then closes his eyes to compose himself, “Wei Ying, tell me you did not leave because you thought there was no place for you there.”

Wei Ying is starting to say something and before he says something rattled with wrong assumptions and non-sensical, Lan Zhan grabs his shoulders lightly and forces him to look into Lan Zhan’s eyes, “I let you go that day because I thought out of everyone you deserved freedom. Cloud Recesses is not my favorite place. It is home, yes. It has everyone and everything, maybe. It does not have you. Together with you is my favorite place to be. It always has. There is no one else whom I dearly want to be with all the time.”

He sees tears slide down the cheeks of his zhiji, but Lan Zhan doesn’t waver in his meaningful gaze. Wei Ying needs to understand the weight of his confession.

Wei Ying grabs the front of his robe and bunches his hands, and looks away slightly, “I don’t know when it happened Lan Zhan. Maybe when they first threw me in burial mounds or before…I…you are my safe place. Even in my head with all the resentment, the things that made me hold it together were Shije and you. You are my zhiji, the one who has tried to hold me as I fall, you are my safe place, you are also my favorite place to be.”

Lan Zhan presses his lips on his hair, and Wei Ying encircles his arms as he hugs Lan Zhan’s through his middle. Lan Zhan replaces his hands to cradle Wei Ying’s head instead.

He says gently as he feels hot tears against his robes, “Then, let’s not walk separate paths or go to different places, shall we?”

******

Fin

[duxhess-kryzewan]

Obi-Wan preparing some surprise for Satine and her being curious, so she's following him and then try to sneak in only to get caught

-thief in the night - 

She trusts him.

There was never a doubt about that, she trusted him with her life. Hardly a soul in the galaxy would ever be granted such faith in them by her. It's an honor she doesn't bestow upon many.

That being said, he had lied to her.

When she had arrived on Coruscant on a diplomatic summit, she was just as delighted by the opportunity to see him as much as she was to speak on the progress her peaceful ways had made on Mandalore. It had been too long since the galaxy had been war torn and she hadn't yet seen him since peace had been declared. Despite the absence of battle, the universe still dictated where their priorities must be, and seeing each other was not on the forefront of those duties.

She would be on Coruscant for nine days, four of which were free of any summit meetings and Senate visits. Her staff had made sure to stagger her commitments and she could not have been more appreciative. The more time she had to slip away, the longer she could be with him.

Which is why she was beyond disappointed when her second night of freedom had came and he informed her that he had a prior engagement with the temple and wouldn't be able to see her. And while she understood, it didn't alleviate the pang of sadness in her chest upon hearing it.

"I'm all yours on your next free night." He assured her, "I'll be in your company as long as you'll have me, my dear."

"You better." She told him.

There wasn't much to be done about the situation though, and she understood that. It was another unfortunate caveat that came with the separate paths they chose to walk. Never will their duties be put on hold for each other. He had duties to perform at the temple that take precedence over her.

Which would be fine, had he not been lying to her about it.

She had just finished up a quick visit with Padme and Bail Organa when she caught the faintest glimpse of him ducking around a corner and down a corridor, cloak pulled up over his head. If she didn't know every inch of him as well as she did she could have mistaken him for someone else. But no, there was no hiding that auburn hair from her. The flash of auburn hair was all she needed to confirm his identity.

"Glad to see he's at the temple." She mutters to herself, and in a split second decision she pulls her own hood up and is headed in his direction.

Rarely is she without the company of her guards, and she wasn't about to let the opportunity go to waste. Navigating her way around the city wasn't the easiest of tasks, and trying to keep an eye on Obi-Wan while maintaining a distance was proving to be a challenge. But she was determined to figure out just why he had lied to her.

She stops a few yards away from him and watches as he walks into a small dilapidated shop in the back end of an alleyway, the sign so time worn that she can't make out the writing.

"What are you up to, Obi-Wan?" She whispers to herself, "He best have a good reason for lying to me."

And so she waits, watching as people come and go around her. The darkness - thank force - provided her with enough cover that no one would be able to recognize her.

Her focus soon becomes entirely lost in the crowd bustles around her, so much so that she almost misses him slipping out the door of the shop entirely and she has to quicken her pace to try and keep him in her sight, but when he takes a sharp turn down another ally she looses him completely.

"You should know better than to try and follow a Jedi."

His voice spooks her more than she would like to admit. How had he gotten behind her? He was ahead of her only moments ago.

When she turns she finds him standing with his arms crossed, hood still pulled over his head and a bemused smile on his face.

"You saw me?"

He snorts, "I've told you before, everyone has a force signature, I know yours quiet intimately. I could sense you not long after I left."

She curses herself under her breath. How could she forget? He only spent hours explaining how the force is in all living things when they were on the run.

"Right, that."

He nods his head in the direction of the Senate building, beckoning her to follow him. Not that she had any other option, she barely knows her way around the city. Another detail she hadn't thought of when she left after him.  

"Care to explain?"

She stares blankly at him for a moment. He wanted her to explain? She certainly wasn't the one who lied.

"Perhaps, if you explain why you lied to me." She counters.

He frowns, "I certainly hope you don't think I was committing any type of adulterous affairs."

There were many scenarios that ran through her head but that wasn't one of them. He might have lied to her about his whereabouts, but she would never believe that he was seeing another person. He barely has the nerve to go against the code he holds so close just to see her, let alone another woman.

"Of course not," she answers, "I would never."

He smiles at her briefly, before frowning once again, "Then why follow me?"

She narrows her eyes,  "Why lie to me?"

He stops walking when she poses the question again. There's something about the look in his eyes that gives him a pause; confliction, perhaps?

"I told you I was at the temple because I didn't want you to ruin the surprise."

She freezes, "Pardon?"

He sighs and runs a hand over his face. She's waiting for him to become upset with her, but instead of angered words he simply chuckles.

"I had intended to give it to you tomorrow evening after your session with the Senate. Unfortunately this was the only time I could slip away, which happen to come at the expense of one less evening with you, though I was hoping what I got you would make up for it."

She opens her mouth to responds, but can't quite form the words she's looking for. Had she really been so cross at the fact that he wasn't where he said he was that she completely ruined what surely must be something meaningful enough for him to sneak away from the temple​? It seemed that way.

"I'm sorry." Is the only thing she manages to come up with.

Despite what should be a very keen opportunity to be angry with her, he smiles warmly.

"No, I'm sorry for lying to you. I shouldn't have done so despite my good intentions."

The crowd swells around them, bustling bodies brushing against their own and he has to tug on her wrist to move her out of the way of a particularly large swarm of people. Not that she's complaining, the last thing she needed was her guards finding out she snuck away from them.

"Come on," he tells her, "Lets get you back to the Senate building before they send your guards on a man hunt."

She nods and follows wordlessly behind him. Every so often he would glance over his shoulder to make sure she was still there. Over protective as always. Perhaps it was an instinct that hadn't faded from their time on the run, even though she insisted she could take of herself.

It wasn't like she was about to voice that however, she did just ruin what clearly is a very personal surprise. Another thing to add to the ever growing list of guilt she has. It was bad enough that he violates the code for her, something she knows he struggles with even if he wont voice it.

Why did she think following him would be a good idea?

"Do you wish to be alone?" He asked her - rather sheepishly, she would add - once they arrived at the Senate guest suite.

She stares at him for a moment, "I presume you're rather upset at my ruining of your surprise. If you'd rather spend the night separately I understand; you don't have to stay." She paused before adding, "Or ever have to ask, for that matter."

Her head drops shamefully, the guilt for following him only manifesting with each passing moment and she's certain he won't want to be around her. She wouldn't want to be around her, not after questioning her trust in him.

But he only smiles and opens the door, gently weaving their fingers together enough to tug her inside.

He kicks the door shut and kisses her. Its the first time he's truly touched her in almost a year and the sensation is so overwhelming that all she can do is wonder how she could ever, ever doubt his loyalty to her.

"I'd like to give you your gift now, if that's alright." He says just as he pulls away.

She finally grants him a smile. How could she not smile at such a wonderful man?

"If you wish."

He grins and kisses her again before reaching into his robe and pulling out a small blue pouch, its silken fabric shimmering in the dull light of the room and she's entranced by the color alone.

He holds it out to her, beckoning her to pull on the tightly knotted string. She does, and lets the small ribbon fall to the floor before he tips the bag over and lets its contents slide onto her open palm.

"Padme had some input, I confess." He tells her, "I'm not the leading expert on women's jewelry."

It wasn't anything grand; a simple silver chain wrapped around a bright blue crystal. She's sure that Padme steered him in the right direction of what she would and wouldn't wear.

"You don't have to wear it if you don't like it," He says quickly, likely a response to the blank expression she's wearing. Not for a lack of liking it - quite the opposite, in fact - but because she was entranced by both the gesture and the object in her hand.

"It's the Kyber crystal from my last lightsaber," He explains, "The lightsabers itself was broken, having been kicked down a shaft on Naboo, but I managed to salvage the crystal. I know it's not to the caliber of your normal attire but I hope-"

She doesn't give him a chance to finish. She's too impatient to let him say anything else about how she may or may not like it and overwhelmed by just how much she loves him. Every time she fears that he has allowed his affection for her to fade he turns around and proves her wrong.

So she kisses him, because it's the only thing that she could possibly do to show how much she loves it and him.

"I want to wear it." She tells him, "It's wonderful and I want to wear it."

​He smiles, "You're sure?"

How could she not be?

"I'm sure."

She slips the necklace back into his awaiting hand and turns, letting him do the honors of brushing her hair to the side. Not that she was incapable, but she relishes in the chill that runs down her spine every time he touches her.

The crystal is cold against her bare skin but she loves it all the same. It's easily one of the most thoughtful things she had ever received.

Hell, he could have given her anything and she would love it all the same so long as it came from him.

A kiss is pressed against the back of her neck and she sighs.

"Thank you, Obi-Wan."

He nuzzles her exposed skin before dropping his chin against her shoulder, "Next time I make an attempt at surprising you, could you reconsider following me all around the city?"

She grins.

"I'll consider it."​

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Yamata-No-Orochi: (Part 4) Erii

ITT: The Mic Drop Heard Round the World.

The sun woke you. Bright light shone through the windows, forming a halo around the curtains and projecting the shape of raindrops from the window onto the carpet. Mingfei had left shortly before you fell asleep of exhaustion and grief. 

You’d fought hard and rebelled against the world, but this last rebellion had taken you too far. Z raised, saved, and safeguarded you. But you refused to play his love game, and that was all it took to discard you. Caesar had been at your side, encouraging you to live all this time. But now that the clouds had gathered, and the darkness of the world surrounded you, he realized that, like Chance, life was not in the cards for you. And Chu Zihang? Well, he always was a sword at your throat.

Once again the world was laughing, mocking you with its silent game of keep away. Love? Syke! Happiness? Syke! Companionship? Syke!

You hated this world. Mingfei went to Erii’s room with the Desert Eagle. What was stopping you from planting your mind in the ground and tilting Tokyo into a rift in the Earth, like it was the undersea Takamagahara? To watch its towers topple, and its buildings burn would be a fitting end to a Godzilla movie.

The hotel phone rang, insanely loud. You reached over and picked it up. “Pizza Hut,” you mumble.

Lu Mingfei stammered for a moment. Then he laughed. “Hey. You, me, Erii road trip. Right now. I left some clothes for you.”

His voice over the phone, it sounded like Z’s. You are silent, mind completely inert, spirit aching. “Sure whatever.” You hang up.

You shower and pull a comb through your hair three times, leaving it to fall over your shoulders. You don't bother with jewelry or make up. He left you a pair of skin tight jeans and a shirt that said Wild Thing across the front. White ankle socks and blue low rise canvas sneakers go over your feet.

The phone rings again. Mingfei sounded breathless. “Come now! We have to go!”

You hang up the phone and dash outside. Mingfei is waiting for you in a cherry red porsche. Erii waves with bright enthusiasm from the passenger side as he gets out and folds the seat down so you can get in the back. “Erii this is my friend, MC, She’s sick like you.”

You startle. Mingfei just went out and said it. You hold out your hand and she takes it, examining your fingers with her dark red eyes. You were lighter skinned, but this girl was near transparent. She scribbled on a notepad. “Nice to meet you. You are very pretty.”

“Guys buckle up!”

Your seatbelt had just clicked when Mingfei down shifted and floored it. The engine let out a mighty growl and the car took off like a rocket down the street. But Mingfei was relaxed, with an impish, ‘catch me if you can’ sort of look. Something in your chest stirred awake.

Erii held up her notebook. “Sakura is the best, right?”

Her smile was so sly, not something you expected to see. “Oh yeah, he's awesome!”

Her nod was sassy, like, Damn Straight.

You look at him again. He was smiling like he was angry. He was acting recklessly. The buildings were a blur outside the windows. The car rumbled like a beast underneath you as the accelerator didn't let up. You weave through traffic like lightning and soon the police are tailing you with flashing lights.

If you thought you were going fast before you were mistaken. The car dug deeper, and it felt like you floated over the road. The police car faded into the distance, unable to keep up.

He pulls into a service station and pays the attendant way too much cash. “Where are we going?” You ask.

“It's a surprise!”

“Does MC like gum?” Erii held out a piece and you helped yourself. 

You lean forward. Erii was covered head to toe in clothing, despite the good weather. 

“MC said that Erii is not stupid, that Erii is smart. MC was right, you knew a lot about yourself. But MC was sad so I wanted to take her too.” Lu Mingfei was saying. “Because she cares for Erii and understands her.”

Erii looks at you for a moment. Then she wrote in her notepad, “Cheer up. Sakura is very lucky. Thank you for caring about me.”

Her expression was so earnest and happy. Did she really understand herself? You hold out your hands for the notebook and pen. You write, “I'm too sick so my friends are scared of me.”

She takes one look at the notepad and her eyes widen. She snatches it back and writes, “Erii is not scared, Erii will be your friend.”

“Please be my friend.” You say softly.

Erii reaches out and seizes your arm. Her face is serious and she nods. When you stop at the supermarket, she drags you along, purchasing snacks and a gigantic stuffed teddy bear. Erii was not interested in herself. She wanted to cheer you up! She understood beyond words the lifelong loneliness, the constant rejection, and growing up in a world that feared you. She forcefully shoves the teddy bear into your hands. And pulls you along. It's so big you can't see around it.

Her image blurs with that of Renata. If Renata had a chance to grow up, she would be this bold.

The bear is so tall it folds against the low ceiling of the porsche. You squeeze in next to it.

“MC is from Siberia. Where she is from, the sun doesn't set in Summer. And in Winter, it doesn't rise and lights dance in the sky.” Mingfei says as you take off again.

Erii swivels in a full body, “What?!” expression and you laugh. “It is true. It's exactly like that.”

“That is AWESOME!” She turns the notepad to you and then writes, “I want to visit your home!”

You recall your promise to Caesar to go dog sledding and feel a pang of regret. But your mind has already replaced Caesar on the dogsled and put Erii there. “Let’s go dogsledding!”

She looks confused.

“Here give me your notebook.” You draw a sketch of a dog sled pulled by a team of panting dogs.

If Erii’s eyes got any bigger they would fill her face. She wrote, “IS THERE SANTA IS HE THERE”

“I… no Santas not there, but we can pretend to be Santa.”

“MC is awesome!”

Before dusk, Lu Mingfei and you two ladies arrived in the town at the southwest end of Shikoku, which is more than four hundred kilometers from Tokyo. The Porsche sports car ran for a full four hours. The whole time Erii peppered you with questions about life in Siberia while Mingfei drove. She had the impression of a magical frostland full of sky and sea. Her sparkling impression was free of brutal reality. For four hours you spoke only of the beauty and wonder of the north. Erii’s notebook is filled with sketches of white quail, snow geese, cute arctic foxes, bears, seals, and whales.

    The open-air parking lot was empty. Lu Mingfei found a parking space to park the car, and opened the door to hear the tide. You could not see the sea. A large hill stood between you and the ocean. The waves sounded like reverberating between the sky and the earth.

    "The sea?" Erii wrote to Lu Mingfei, with excitement in her eyes.

Lu Mingfei nodded his head as an answer. 

Ah the ocean… maybe four hours ago you might have been upset to meet up with the water. Now you just laugh.

Erii looks at you curiously.

“Did you know I got to ride dolphins?”

Erii practically staggers. 

“If you're lost in the ocean, sometimes dolphins will rescue you.” You hook her arm in yours. “They're big and strong and won't let you drown.”

“MC knows so much.”

“Erii knows a lot about Erii’s world. I know a lot about mine.”

Erii nods and smiles.

Lu Mingfei pulled out the compass, opened the long-prepared map, and took you to the town not far away. The sign in front of the town reads Umezuji-cho. At this time of the year, the streets of Tokyo must be bustling with people, but in this small seaside town, there are no people on the streets, only a group of elementary school students in school uniforms passing by.

Mingfei seemed to be in a rush, but Erii dallied with you, asking questions and marveling at the tofu shop, or the batik store. More than once, Mingfei had to come back and usher you forward. He clearly had some sort of plan in mind.

You find out that he hurried was so you could catch the last mountain tram, which was built next to the town's shrine and had a 45-degree angle track that made a staccato sound as you climbed.

    On both sides of the track there are dense trees. These trees cover the track like thick clouds, and it is as if you are walking through a tunnel of ever-changing colors, a tunnel made purely of foliage and flowers.

Both you and Erii are stunned with wonder. You did not have such dense forests like this growing up. The air is full of birdsong and frogs and early season cicadas. You feel someone take your hand. Erii points to your face. A bright tear shone there like a pearl. You didn't know you had shed it.

  "Sakura is not Japanese, right? How do you know such a beautiful place?" Erii wrote in her little notebook.

    "I saw a drama made in Japan. This is a very famous scene from that drama. I saw that drama a long time ago."

    "What was the name of that TV series?"

    "Tokyo Love Story." Lu Mingfei wrote one stroke at a time.

 "I liked that Japanese drama so much that I searched the Internet for all kinds of information about Ehime Prefecture, and finally learned that the ending scene was filmed in Umezuji Town, and that the school and the separate stations in the drama were real. I had always dreamed of traveling to Umetsuji-cho and had done a lot of homework.”

You and Mingfei did not really know each other. You did not think he was this level of a romantic so you didn’t understand why Caesar would want to pair you two. Now it made a lot more sense.

Lu Mingfei took out a handkerchief and blindfolded Erii: "You will see a beautiful view when you untie the handkerchief later."

When he handed one to you, your jaw drops. “I can’t believe you.”

He doesn’t say anything, just ties your eyes. You feel his hand close around yours. You can’t see Erii’s expression. “Erii, I’m so excited. This is fantastic!”

You’re smiling, you can’t stop. The memories of the events of the days before roared like angry hordes of monsters in your mind, but Mingfei and Erii have shut the gates on them. His warm hand in yours, the rhythm of the sun's rays between the trees, the crunch of your footfalls on the trail, the constant sound of birds. It was all so soothing.

 You walk the decades old mountain mining path, a road with uneven stone patchwork. At the end of the road is a long closed mine. In order to commemorate the mine that raised the town, the residents of Umezuji Town donated money to build a wooden temple-style building over the entrance and exit of the mine. Each rafter is hung with carp flags for prayers, and various porcelain dolls are placed under the eaves. This is a local custom. If the town's family gave birth to a boy, they would come here to hang a carp flag, and if it is a girl will put a porcelain doll.

 “It's exactly the same as the Internet says." Lu Mingfei said.

The tracks of the mine car had long been rusted, and weeds grew among the sleepers. You followed the track to the edge of the cliff, and Lu Mingfei helped you to climb a rock that protruded from the cliff.

He pressed his hands on you and Erii’s shoulders and said, "Now you can take off the blindfold."

You untied your handkerchief. 

The sunset blooms full in your vision. The huge sun disc had touched the sea. Ten of millions of tons of seawater slowly swirled beneath your feet. The tide broke into white splashes under the black cliffs. The wind blew endless hectares of forest. The evening woods also look like the sea from a distance, a pale red sea, with thousands of treetops swaying with the wind, forming cascading waves. 

Small towns are distributed along the winding coastline, Lu Mingfei names of them one by one -- below the cliff is the town of Umezuji, a little farther away is the town of Yamamae, Tsukishita Castle Town and Matsuron Town, and further is beyond his knowledge.

    The town's small school was already empty, and the silent playground was empty.

    The Ferris wheel spins slowly but does not carry passengers. The Ferris wheel in Umezuji Town is only a miniature version, but it is magnified in the sunset, its huge shadow cast on the undulating sea of trees.

    On the track facing the sea, the yellow slow train rumbled through the small unoccupied station, which was enclosed by white railings with the signs "Umetsuji X" and "Tokyo X”. You wonder how long it had to wait for a nostalgic and romantic fan like Lu Mingfei. Music starts playing and you can't help but laugh in disbelief.

    Lu Mingfei had pressed play on the theme song of Tokyo Love Story. His phone was the latest and the speaker was good. You couldn't believe it. This nerdy little parrot boy and scared raccoon had somehow managed to comfort you completely. Outside the shadows of Caesar and Chu Zihang, he shined bright. Maybe being on a boat with him would be fun.

Erii held up her notebook. “The world is gentle.”

You look at her, expressionless. She was right. The world in its natural state was quiet and peaceful. You’d fallen asleep in violence and awakened in violence and pain. You didn't get to experience the romantic world like this very much. In your mind, you imagine Renata in her patchwork coat, sitting next to you. In your ears, she whispers. 

You open your mouth, “Make a wish!”

Mingfei turns to you in surprise but Erii follows along, pressing her palms together. You pray.

Renata. I am coming soon. Sorry it took so long.

You sat under the roof of the mine. Erii kept writing questions. Lu Mingfei answered one by one. This girl seems to have saved up a belly of questions, and now they all came out. Mostly they referenced Anime and Manga you have never heard of. That was Erii’s world, a world of cartoon fantasy. He confirmed or denied that reality, shaping and creating the world anew as you watched her listen intently. Lu Mingfei had taken to heart your words and was upfront and simple, not lying or trying to say things she wanted to hear. You nod in approval, your eyes serious. 

The sun gradually sank below the surface of the sea, the last afterglow scattered on the water. Half of the sun and its reflection form a complete circle.

   "So this is what the outside world looks like." Erii wrote to Lu Mingfei to see.

    "Yeah, that's what it's like, no Britannia Kingdom and no Celestial Organization… disappointed?" Lu Mingfei asked.

    "No, not disappointed, like this kind of world, this kind of world is very gentle." Erii used the word gentle once again. You repeated the word in your mind. Gentle. It echoes there. As if without the constant threat of death and adrenaline, there was just empty space.

   "I really like this world." As the sun is about to disappear, Erii wrote to Lu Mingfei. "But the world doesn't like me." Erii went on to write.

You stand up and move to the other side of her. You scoot as close as you can and rest your head on her shoulder. She hugged the huge bear and lowered her eyes like a cat that had done something wrong.

 "I'll be a problem for everyone and I've been a problem for Sakura." Erii wrote again.

  "I was too willful. So I ran away from home."

  "I should have gone back a long time ago but it's still a pleasure."

   "It's beautiful here, I should have known I should have come here on the first day. Thank you Sakura, MC, thank you.”

You lower your hand over hers as she’s writing.

"No."

Erii froze for a moment.

 "No." Lu Mingfei repeated.

Lu Mingfei cocked his head to look at her with a rare serious look: "Don't think you can know what the world is like by coming out to see it. I'm still confused after living in this world for more than twenty years. You've only run out for a few days and you think you understand?"

His eyes look at you too and you’re just as shaken as Erii. But he is right! You never set foot outside the Port of Black Swan and that was 20 years ago. You saw the whole world through that tiny lens and haughtily walked around like you owned the place. You judged others through that same view as well.

  "How big the world is depends on how many people you know, and for every person you know, the world gets a little bigger for you. There are many cities in this world. There are Tokyo, Paris, Cairo, London, Istanbul... but many of them are just names to you, you haven't been there and there are no people there you want to visit, so they don't really belong to your world. There are many, many more people in this world, but you don't know them, and they don't belong in your world. There are also lots of good food and fun and nice things in this world, but the world that really belongs to you is actually very small, just the places you've been and eaten and seen the sunset and the friends who will care if you live or die."

 "Whether the world likes you or not only depends on whether your friends like you or not. Everyone has a few really good friends. They like you, therefore, the world likes you."

The world… was not Tokyo, or Cassell or Hydra… The world was Renata, Caesar, Chu Zihang, Lu Mingfei, and now Erii. You turn your head back to Tokyo, unseen in the distance. How could you leave…?

“What is a good friend?" Erii wrote in her little notebook.

    "It's the kind of friend that's so crazy about that he'll believe in you no matter what, and he'll be with you no matter what.” Lu Mingfei growled low. "If the world really doesn't like you, then the world is my enemy."

    The moment these cold and arrogant words came out of his mouth, you seemed to hear a familiar cold laugh coming from behind you. The demon of the sad world sneering with all its mockery.

Together, you and Mingfei both jerked back, but behind you were only cherry blossoms mixed with fallen leaves swirling in a breeze, and there was no sign of Z. Lu Mingfei stared at you with wide eyes and you stared right back. His mouth opened. “MC. You… heard…?”

    "Wanted: a good friend." 

He turned back to Erii waiting for him with a small book up. 

    "I am your good friend, and you will have more good friends in the future." You say.

    "But as long as we are your good friends, how can we not like you?" He said softly.

She slowly crawled towards Lu Mingfei like a kitten, vigilantly figuring out his look. Lu Mingfei looks petrified and you cover your mouth with one hand while silently cheering, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

What did he expect? Even your heart was moving and you don’t even like him! Lu Mingfei is sitting here putting Kazama level moves on this girl and now that her arms are around him and her head is on his chest, he looks two seconds away from shitting himself. You ball your fist against your lips and swallow your laughter.

Clouds gathered in the distance and the sun had set, It was time to go. You would have to get up bright and early tomorrow to get on the boat to China. Your heart was relaxed again about Caesar’s decision. After all, he was just doing his best. If you died, you would go to rest. Caesar would be tormented for the rest of his days. He wasn't sending you on the boat to die. He wanted you to live. You still believed the omniscient Z. Leaving Tokyo was a death sentence. But you also believed Caesar had his own parallel script.

It was raining by the time the train came. You stand shoulder to shoulder on the platform. “Call me to wake me up tomorrow.” You say.

 Mingfei lowers his head and laughs.

“Oh you’re planning to oversleep? Once again I have to be the mature one.” You roll your eyes. 

The train splashes up to the platform and you make sure Erii has her ticket. She sits next to the window and stares outside. Much to your surprise, Mingfei sits you next to her. He gives you a fond smile and passes you a note.

  "Dear passengers, this train terminates in Matsuyama City. We are now about to leave Umezuji-cho station. The train is about to close......" A sweet female voice echoed in the carriage. 

The doors of the train close.

You open the note in your hand. The words make you squint.

You have to live.

You and Erii gasp at the same time. Mingfei is not on the train. The doors have closed. And he is not on the train!

You leap from your seat and pound on the glass door in front of the smiling Mingfei. “Where am I supposed to go?” You will miss the boat. You won’t go to China.

Your hands slowly slide from the glass. Erii is pressing her notebook urgently against it.

Lu Mingfei tapped on the window, "Someone will pick Erii up when you get to Matsuyama City. MC, find Ruri Kazama.”

    "Won't Sakura take me back to Tokyo?" Eriki took the small book and showed it to Lu Mingfei.

    "Your family won't like me." Lu Mingfei said.

    Erii hugged the furry teddy bear and lowered her head, her long hair like a colored cloak that enveloped both her and the bear.

    "Sayonara"  said Lu Mingfei.

    Erii nodded, finally realizing that this was their parting. The train ride to Tokyo will take several hours, but Lu Mingfei will not accompany her.

    Lu Mingfei's face was stern and he didn't say anything more. There was nothing more to say. This was the parting, his carefully designed parting. He NEVER agreed to the boat. He NEVER agreed to kill you. He had carefully pulled the wool over Caesar’s eyes and convinced you that he was going to dump you on the boat. You grinned and shook your head. But the train began to move before you could even think of a comeback.