#i think i can draw chaos emeralds with my eyes closed now after drawing them so many times

[zerothesonic]

well it was supposed to be for frontiers day but better late than never i guess

[the-sinful-voice-witch]

HOW I IMAGINE AMY'S PARTICIPATION IN THE MOVIE

(Since the first trailer of Sonic 3 has a devastating lack of Amy, I'm going to repost this big text I wrote back in 2022, honestly if she actually shows up I doubt it will be any close to this theory but it's ok I just want to see her)

Ok so now to finish already with my theory about Amy I'm going to write the things i imagine happening in the movie (for better understanding scroll down to read the other parts). And then I'll start talking about Rouge, well before the hypothetical movie Amy scenes I'll explain my version of her abilities:

It's Canon that in the movies there's something called Chaos power and it's been manifested in Sonic as superspeed decorated with a great visual of blue electric light in all his body in his case he was born with it, then knuckles also has a representation of Chaos power in strength and also a bit of speed but not even close to Sonic's basically as everybody knows is strength equal to Sonic's speed and is decorated with electric light as well but Red. Then we have Tails who has the ability to fly but that has nothing to do with chaos powers but he is decorated too with yellow light but in his case we only see it electric when he is using his gadgets, so electric energy or not... It comes from his high technology gadgets and not any powers... We also already know that Shadow's chaos powers are the chaos control, he can teleport and creat energy spears.

So for Amy i though a mix between Tails non chaos gadgets and the chaos power in the other furro guys bodies, her abilities physically speaking aren't chaos powered, she knows boxing, she is flexible and can make pretty acrobatic movements but her signature is her hammer she can summon out of air so to explain this skill in the movie i took another characteristic of her: her ability to read fortune cards and as i explained in my other post turned the Fortune cards in a Chaos relic/item I'm not sure how to name it so basically Amy found the cards someday and the cards chose her as rightful owner and gave her a weapon, one of the cards with a hammer drawing on it became a real hammer and since then Amy can summon both the cards and the hammer whenever she wants though sometimes the cards manifest by themselves if they need Amy to know something and of course everytime she summon them they are decorated with with pink electric light, and only Amy's eyes and hands have this light as well but not her entire body like sonic and knuckles. So her Chaos abilities come from chaos objects she is connected with and not from inside her body. (Important: in other media I've seen people being able to hold Amy's hammer like it weighs nothing but at least In this movie i don't want that i want it to be it like Thor hammer also if it's taken far away from her it will just go poof and be back at her hands but if she exhausts too much herself or if she gets knock out it will poof too)

And now the movie points:

1. I don't know if doing this at the beginning of the movie or in some flashback but we need a scene with Amy tripping and finding a chaos emerald and the cards reacting to it's chaos energy and she reading the disaster that will happen if she doesn't brings it back to the hedgehog hero.

2. After finally reaching earth guided by the fortune cards and not knowing the hero hedgehog, she will cross paths with Shadow and first she'll think he is the hero she is looking for but before trying to give the emerald to him she feels something off as she feels the cards reacting to his chaos energy but in a dark way so she hesitates and it's ambushed by Rouge who steals the gem and comments that because she is a good spy she knows Amy can detect the chaos energy therefore she could track the rest of the emeralds, Amy refuses seeing those 2 are up to no good and gets kidnapped (by eggman robots, G.U.N staff, or even the Aliens from Shadow's game i don't know) she tries to reason saying that the planet will be in danger if she doesn't give the emeralds to the hedgehog hero who obviously she will remark that can't be Shadow (and I was hoping these 2 could have a conversation where Amy will be confused and in fact Shadow will get a tiny bit memory trigged) but Rouge laughs and doesn't believes her and not that she cares.

3. But the moment she is Alone she realizes she still has a portal ring left and asks the cards to guide her somewhere close to the real hero and is teleported in green heel... Where she will meet Wade who comments she looks like a pink girl version of Sonic and Amy concludes that he must be real hedgehog hero and Wade offers to take her to Sonic's house but Amy starts having a crisis because she doesn't have the emerald anymore, she failed and made things difficult to the hero she was supposed to help save the world and now she is too ashamed to face him... Then Wade opens up to her and tells her that he has someone who admires, the sheriff and that he sometimes feels like he gets in his way and that he is useless but the sheriff (you know who is he xD) has always treated him as friend and always appreciated his help and that that sheriff is Sonic's dad and for sure he taught him well and he is sure Sonic won't be mad at her. With this Amy gets encouraged enough to face him, she tanks Wade and when they were about to go to Sonic's place... Green heels is under attack, Amy looks at Wade smiles determined while summoning her hammer and says: I'll never forget your kindness Wade and don't worry i promise I'll protect your home and then she rushes into action while Wade goes to help the people.

3. Sonic and his bros are struggling with the menace( eggman robots, aliens... Don't know) and then he sees a pink electric shape smashing the enemy and then slow motion happens and their eyes meet.... Then she finishes the enemy and the hammer poofs away while she gasps for the effort and side looks sonic shyly then sonic glups thinking about Tom teasing about this situation happening (scroll down to read the headcanon) and tries to say something but before any of the hedgehogs could say anything Tails or knuckles or both start thanking and praising Amy for helping them with her cool hammer and Amy thanks them overwhelmed and then Sonic wanting attention finally speaks, thanks her and ask her to introduce herself... Amy does and when she starts to explain what is she doing there she starts to apologize crying (fans of spy x family remember Anya's face while she apologized to Damian? THAT FACE), she is so sorry because she came from the other side of the Galaxy just to do a simple task and she couldn't help him and on top of that she made things harder for him and maybe because of her the earth is doomed... Sonic tries to calm her and she ashamedly asks if he would give her a chance to redeem her mistake even though she messed it up big and Sonic moved by her honest tears gives her a motivational speech about how awesome and brave she is for traveling the Galaxy just to help save a world that isn't hers knowing so little about the situation and that of course she wants a Thor in his group XD (she doesn't get the reference but the other two do and she takes it as a compliment) Amy blushes at his speech (completely obviously to us viewers she falls in love with him) and comments that now she is sure she found the true hero with how cool, bright and handsome sonic is and Sonic gets an ego boost at the same time he gets a crushing hard crisis while Tails and knuckles laughs.

4. The trio asks Amy about her abilities and there's a flashback with a classic Amy explaining the moment she found the cards and got the hammer. Then after this let's say we'll get more action scenes and trying to collect the emeralds and the master emerald ECT ECT more likely they'll separate in groups more fighting...

5. So at some point Sonic team and rouge are trying to save the planet and Amy is feeling powerless because now is the moment to do something and she can't and the cards are not helping her and then she sees shadow, then we get the famous SA2 conversation, (i would make it a bit longer like Amy commenting about the first time she saw him mistaking him for the hero). Then Shadow finally remembers, he turns his head looking at Amy, she sees a tear dropping from his determined sad eyes and Shadow said the famous Shadamy sentence I'll fulfill my promise for Maria and for YOU. And goes to help then Amy will be watching wondering.... "Maybe i DID GIVE the EMERALD to a HEDGEHOG HERO after all"

6. After Shadow's disappeared and Sonic gives his ring to Rouge saying Shadow was a hero too he looks at Amy and she smiles sadly, rushes to hug him and she says "I'm so glad you saved the world... Together" and Sonic (nervous 💗) says "WE saved the world together". Rouge goes her way (don't worry i will write her movie scenes as well) and the other four go back to green heels where Amy sadly starts to say goodbye but Sonic stops her saying she should stay and that earth has a lot of things she would love and the wachowskis offer her to stay with them (something that makes Sonic nervous 💗) but Amy looks at the family and comments that they have way too many people in the house and that she'll feel bad like is imposing and then Dad Wade steps in and offers her to live with him, that his Wade cave could use a female touch other than his mom when she visits and Amy is delighted and Tom comments to Sonic oh look that means she is going to be your cute neighbor next door 😏 and Sonic is like ( nervously ) "stop it don't you dare go there" 😖 but then he looks at Amy and she looks at him and they smile to each other

7. Last scene: they are playing baseball and this Time is Amy the one hitting the ball while this time is knuckles throwing it (everyone is worried because of knuckles force but Amy uses her hammer and no problem xD) after she hits it Wade is there cheering: YEEEESSS THAT'S MY GIRL! HAVE YOU SEEN HER???WOOOO !! Everyone is laughing and rolling their eyes and Sonic goes to Amy to congratulate her and tells her they are going to get Ice cream and asks her if she tried it yet and she is like: ice cream?? Yeah! I love ice cream!! Wade bought me one the other day, i think is definitely my favorite food!! So... What were you saying about an ice cream date? 🥰 And Sonic is like... Date? What? I didn't mean it like a Date i mean... Like all of us...😳 And then Wade comes: oh Ice cream! Yeah let's get some for everyone jaja then he whispers to sonic : hey you macho blue you better not try get all flirty with my pinky little girl I'm watching you...😤 And Sonic like:🙄😑 Amy: come on Wade! Sonic! Let's go!!😁 Sonic: come on Wade i race you! Wade: that is not fair....

You get the idea.

So this is how i imagine Amy being introduced in the movies what do you think?

[squeiky]

"Someone I'm supposed to remember."

"Sometimes I lay at night, thinking about you. All the time we've spent together, all the memories we've made together... I never want to forget it.. but I always do."

_______________________________

Artist's note:

This is more a vent per say, rather than a means of shipping, but due to the context and way I executed the drawing- I'm tagging this as sonadow.

There is an bit of a but of a rant/vent an ID and a bonus edit version of this drawing after the readmore. Feel free to skip whichever or.

(I titled them all so it easier to skip stuff. When scrolling fast)

ID:

[ID: A traditional pencil drawing; Text in the top reads: "YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU CAN'T REMEMBER"

On the right and left side are drawings of sonic the hedgehog with his eye portion sketched out.

The left side has 4 drawings, one of sonic smirking with a fist, below that is a drawing of his shoes and next to it is a drawing of super sonic w/ 2 chaos emeralds. Below that is a grumpy sonic checking the watch on his arm.

On the right is a drawing of sonic, hands on hips with his back facing front. The one below that is of sonic laughing with his hand in his chest, then underneath that is sonic at a side angle, smiling whilst talking. Next to that is sonic having a toothy smirk, with a finger waggle as well.

Shadow the hedgehog is in the middle, both hands on the lower portion of his chest, with his quills (very messy) all extended outwards. Creases are all around him as his on a bed. There are 2 pillows on both sides of him. To the right of him are some earphones desgined for hedgehogs that has a headphone wire attached to it. (It's unplugged) and a book with a pencil ontop of it.

On the lower left of him (around the knees) is a phone, only a reflection of the screen shows as it's presumably off.

Shadow looking upwards, with a gazed, zoning out type expression. His identifiable scowl is no where to be seen.

Underneath all of that, are 2 comic panels.

The first one/ the one on the left is of shadow on lying his left side, with one arm over his torso while the other is tucked underneath his head (like a makeshift pillow.) His legs are also shown His, one over the other. His eyes are looking down, now the more iconic angry eyes.

A dark pillar of sorts is behind him, and to the side of that the text reads, " So then, Why".

The right panel is a close up of one of his eyes. It's pretty detailed and you can see some hints of fluff/small quills on his face as well as a bit of his big o'l hedgehog nose.

His iris has a drawing of supersonic reaching out towards one of his extended arms. There are stars around them, and sonic's eyes are still crossed out.

Text to the right of the eye read: "Are you so FAMILAIR?"

:End ID]

Bonus:

Still edited, but just a different version of the post above. It's a little less brighter, but it's more accurate to how the drawing actually looks irl:

Vent:

I never really understood how shadow gained his memories back.

This is coming from a personal level, but him struggling with these identity and memory issues always kind of stuck with me.

As someone who struggles with memory, it's really hard to trust what people say is true or not.

Someone recently told me they've known me for years, and I thought I only knew them for a few weeks.

Like, this is somebody I'm supposed to know. They're so familiar, yet to somehow their still a stranger.

It's shit like that, that always bugs me.

Then people tell me of these stories and things I went through, and it's like I'm listening to another person explain to me what my life was like. It just feels like I'm listening to someone read a storybook.

It's all so distant, beacuse I just can't really remember. I can't connect with my own self, and honestly I don't even know if should. Sometimes I question whether I should even try to learn my psst, or if it would even matter at all..

It makes it hard to trust people too. Cause there's liars out there, and when you've got memory problems it makes it easy for them to put stuff in your head.

(Always thinking about that just gives me way to much anxiety and makes it impossible for me to connect with people.. it's like I got eggshells for shoes.)

I try not to think about it too much, and just move on in life...but the feelings still there.

It just sucks.

I have a really good memory too...(I think?) beacuse when I can remember things its crisp and detailed. (Atleast..sometimes.)

Either than that, there's just entire gaps between my life I can't remember.

I have a freind who tells me about all my adventures I had with her. So I'm just here, lying down on my bed, contemplating all these memories I had with her.

All those memories I can't remember.

[darkacademicfrom2021]

The Dark Team (part 12)

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(Taglist: @lucywrites02, @louieboo87, @the-departed-potato, @jesuswasnotawhiteman, @idontknow296, @beksib, @spythoschei, @geekwritersworld, @whatafuckingdumbass, @mysticunicorn7 @shadowolf993 @toe-vind-ek-jou @joscelyn02, @t00-pi, @irwxnhugsx)

Warnings: alcohol.

Disclaimer: pic not mine.

After the sun came completely down and the night bathed the city, making the flashing lights of the buildings and cars look like the sky had spat all of its stars, you gathered all your work and called it a day. Thor, Steve and Bucky were able to go through everything you told them to, and everything was in control. You had managed to solve a chaotic situation from the distance, and the pleasant feeling of doing things right gave you the last push to close your laptop and join Peter and Loki.

Opening one of the windows, you let the fresh wind hit your face and unfurrow your brows, releasing all the tensions you had been accumulating all week long. Peter sneaked up from outside the building and hung upside down from the frame. You gasped, forgetting for a brief moment he was sticky and not completely out of his mind.

“Are you joining us, older?”.

“Yes, little. I’m going”, you laughed at the comeback of the nicknames. Standing for older sibling and little sibling Tony had baptized you with, years ago. Loki chuckled.

“You two are the epitome of adorability, sometimes”.

“Oh, we can get worse”, you laughed.

You had ordered some food in, without wanting to ever touch the mess of that kitchen again, and a bottle of wine. Nobody was there, else than you three; might as well have fun. As you waited for dinner to arrive, you decided on a slide presentation night. You gave each other no more than twenty minutes to arrange it all, so the chaos would be absolute and uncontrollable.

Peter presented first, with a long powerpoint ranking things the Avengers did in “vine-vibes” ascending order. You two tried (and failed miserably) to explain to Loki what a vine was and why something would have its vibes without being actually a video.

Loki’s presentation was titled “Seven hundred reasons why you shouldn’t worship the God of Sparkly hands”. There were actually only six reasons; two of them were about mass murders he was about to commit, and most of them talked about annoying things he did as a child. There was an extra one where it was just a white background and tiny letters in the middle saying “he dyes his hair blonde, he’s actually a redhead”.

Your presentation was titled “Seven hundred and one reasons why you should worship me instead”. No need to elaborate. They all differed except for Friday; she clapped with her electronic hands.

Two board games and some chess later, the food had already arrived. Peter was famished and ate more than you could’ve imagined a boy was capable of. He got so full, so quickly, that he instantly got sleepy. Loki could not bite his tongue and had to say “just like a baby”. It did not help that you snorted, and Peter shot his webs at you two; Loki avoided them and you couldn’t, so you ended up stuck to the roof. Peter started to walk to his room, leaving you up there.

“Hey, hey! Don’t leave, I’m still here!”, you called him. But he was gone. What an avenger. Loki chuckled, and raised his hand to free you with magic, and you instantly realized you were six meters away from the floor. “Wait! I’ll fall!!”.

He didn’t stop, and dissolved the net with a simple spell. As you fell down, you closed your eyes and tried to cover your head, knowing you’d have at least a broken bone. Peter has done this before, you knew there was no way to actually leave unharmed. Loki’s arms tightened around your body, avoiding you to fall flat against the floor.

As you looked up, you met his face, closer than ever. Closer than it ever has been. Your heart skipped a beat, and you knew you had to think about something else than the feeling of his chest against yours, his hands in your back, how he was holding you so gently, how he was looking at you so dearly. You knew you had to think about something else; for he could be reading your mind. He surely was. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t stop focusing on his peach lips and how soft his cheeks looked from up close. You couldn’t see anything else than the movement of his Adam’s apple when he swallowed hard, and how his hand trembled a little in your back.

He let you down slowly, still holding eye contact, still with his arms around you. Not the threatening gaze he would hold against everyone else on the compound. Not the lustful gaze he would sometimes draw while stealing some glances at you changing on your suit (he thought you didn’t notice, you certainly did). Not the concentrated gaze he would hold still on his face while reading one of those books he always carried around.

It wasn’t any of those. You had studied them thoroughly, meticulously, every inch of his facial expressions, every inch of his being while he wasn’t aware of your eyes on him. God, how you hated to look at him this way, but how much you couldn’t avoid it. Your brain knew you shouldn’t get attached. You had no chance at all to be with him; he was a God, a criminal, and he’d go back to Asgard. And, foremost, he didn’t feel the same. He had a lover, and his mind was still there, stuck in that person, undeletable.

And, as much as you could have read him like a children’s book the entirety of the past week, right now, you had no clue what those green eyes on you meant. You had no idea why the blush on his cheeks was in there, and why he let out a tiny (the tiniest, ever so subtle) gasp. Parted lips that shone, looked so…

You shook your head, closing your eyes. He didn’t let go of his grip around you, but your feet were already on the floor. You could’ve walked away if you wanted to. And you wanted to, you definitely did not want to stay there, and sink your nose in his neck. You certainly did not want to play with his hair while staring at those pair of emeralds he couldn’t keep away from you. You couldn’t read him. He looked at you in a way you’ve never seen him before. Yet it felt so… right.

No, it wasn’t right. God, what were you thinking?

He pulled away, and the cold breeze from the window surrounded your body. You didn’t realize how much body heat he was warming you with until he left. Or maybe it was your own. Your face was still burning. You visibly cringed at your reaction, and could not play it cool at all. He chuckled, again, and walked to the kitchen.

You didn’t say anything. Your face still burned, and your chest was tight. You haven’t felt like this in a long time, why now? Why in the middle of an important mission? Why just now, that he specifically told you he would not stay, and that once he left he would not come back? Why now, that he was opening a bottle of wine in the kitchen, and pouring it in two glasses?

Opening the balcony’s doors, there were two metal chairs (those with delicate designs, that would usually belong to a grandma’s garden) and a round and tiny glass table, just waiting for you two to sit there. You needed fresh air, so you did, sinking in all the city, the active flashlights of the cars, the minute people running around, or walking.

Two glasses of wine clicked against the glass table, and Loki sat in front of you with his eyes fixed on the city, too. You observed him from the corner of your eye, and he did the same. A subtle smile drew across his tightened lips.

After a glass of wine, a refill and about an hour of small talk, he uncrossed his legs and stretched his arms and back with a yawn. The blush still remained intact on his cheeks, and it couldn’t be because of the wine. If you weren’t drunk, much less him. He looked back at you, and chuckled uncomfortably.

“What?”, he asked.

“What what?”.

“You’re staring”.

“Oh, sorry”.

“No, it’s fine”, he said, and you furrowed your brows. He specified, “I don’t mind. I wonder what you’re thinking while you stare, nothing more”.

“So you’re not reading my mind?”.

“No. You said you didn’t like that”.

“Ah”, you gave your glass of wine one last sip and emptied it. It was such a simple gesture, yet you didn’t expect him to actually have listened. Of course he would, he wasn’t actually as bad as he was portrayed by Stark, or so you have seen so far of him. “I just… I wonder about you”.

“About what?”.

“You’re difficult to read. My job here is mainly knowing how to read people”, you explained, and he nodded. “It’s almost like you’re purposely hiding. Like you’re shifting your microexpressions into whatever they are now, so nobody can see what you actually think or feel”. He let out a short chest laugh. Probably sarcastic, but how would you know.

“Who would actually want to know what goes through my mind?”.

“I do, just told you”.

He looked down and played with the empty glass in between his fingers. It looked small in comparison.

“You don’t want to, believe me”.

“Are you afraid of letting people in?”.

“No, it’s not that”, he said, trying to let you know he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. You ignored it and opened your mouth, but the words died in your tongue as he added, “please, don’t”.

“I wish I knew you better”, you said after a few more minutes of silence. You swore you heard a creaking foot on the stairs, peeping in the conversation. You ignored it; if Loki was to talk to you, he would also say it in front of Peter. Not like you had some sort of special bond, or even friendship. You kind of wished for it, though.

“Why?”. His knitted eyebrows showed how actually curious he was about that. He believed you. He was certain you were telling the truth, but he simply couldn’t put his head around it. Why would anyone want to know me better? What is it about me that you care? And you wished to know the reason, too. If you knew why you were so drawn to him, maybe you could’ve stopped yourself.

“I feel like I’m missing out on something”.

“Something like what?”.

“Something great”.

“There is no greatness in me, it’s all an act”.

“I know it’s all an act”, you said, referring to his whole I’m a God and you’ll kneel before me and I’m superior. “I don't mean that kind of greatness. You’re hiding the wrong things”.

“You’re not missing out on anything”, he insisted, and not for humility, but because he wanted to brush you off. Keep you away from him.

“Don’t you think we could ever get along? Friends, even?”, you pressured. You knew you shouldn’t have, but Loki didn’t take it badly. Instead, he finally looked at you, drawing a sad smile.

“I’m going back to Asgard after the mission. I don’t intend to make new friends”, he said, but a softness in his voice hinted he wasn’t being mean; simply stating the facts. Exactly as it should be.

“Why did you come only for this mission?”, you asked. You actually wanted to ask do you even have friends back there?, but you knew better.

“I owe Stark. I messed up and wanted to fix at least something with him. He’s not taking it too kindly, but I think he understands the intentions”, he explained, sitting back up on his chair and getting his eyes back on the city.

“A peace offering?”.

“More like an apology. Redemption, even”.

“Redemption? Do you see yourself as a villain to him?”.

He didn’t answer right away. Took his time to find the words.

“I wronged. I did things I shouldn’t have”, and then you realized, he wasn’t apologizing for the New York incident. It was personal. You even wondered, maybe… was he…? Was Tony actually the...? No, imposible. “I know helping out on a mission won’t cut it, but if I can at least be a little bit of help to his planet…”.

“May I ask what did you wrong him in?”.

“I tried to take over Midgard once”, he said, and you didn’t believe him.

“If you ask me, it’s not Stark’s place to accept that apology. He doesn’t own the planet, even though he thinks that”.

“Does he?”.

“He acts like such, at least. He has a big ego, but also a big heart. He’s the closest thing I have to a father”.

“I know”, and you weren’t sure what he had said I know to.

The night was kept awake with more small talk you wouldn’t remember the next day. You saw the sun rising from behind the buildings in silence, with a bad aftertaste of wine, takeout food and unspoken words that would stay just like that.

[andypantsx3]

in cinders | 9 | explanations

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

length: 24,362 words / 9 chapters

summary: You’re just trying to fairy godmother your best friend into a happily ever after. If only the prince would stop hanging around and cooperate.

tags: cinderella AU, prince!Shouto, romance, misunderstandings, reader-insert

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut

“Get your hands off of her!” you yelled before you could think.

You rushed forward, ducking under the heavy arm of a guardsman, and ripped the soldier off of Ochako. You took advantage of his surprise, getting yourself between them and pushing her behind you. You held out your arms to block his access to her.

“What the hell is going on here?”

The guardsman whirled on you. “This little wench stole from a noblewoman.”

He pointed, and you followed the line of his finger towards the pink, puffy dress clutched in Kamiko’s conniving fingers. Kamiko smirked at you, looking more pleased with herself than you had ever seen before.

“I found this hidden under her mattress so I reported her to the authorities. Now get out of the way, cinders, she needs to be punished.”

A feral noise escaped you. “I’ll fucking kill you for this, Kamiko.”

Kamiko scoffed. “You wouldn’t dare.”

A soft voice from behind you sniffled, “It’s not true! I promise I didn’t steal it!”

The guardsman let out a flat laugh. “How would a servant come by a dress like this? It’s obviously stolen.”

You moved to block him again as he reached for Ochako. Thinking quickly, you swept the crowd of servants in front of you, looking for any escape route. Your eyes fixed on Kaminari who stood frozen where he had been trying to control the crowd. His gaze was locked behind you, and his brow was furrowed. His mouth seemed to be shaping some word in question.

You tried to catch his eye but before you could, he whipped back in the other direction and was off like a shot, pushing through the crowd and out of the kitchen.

“Hand her over or I’ll have to hurt you,” the guardsman growled, drawing your attention back to him.

Your heart leapt into your throat. There had to be some way out of this. There had to be some way to protect Ochako, there had to--

You froze, a plan dawning on you. Ochako had never stolen a thing, but you had. And if there was one person Kamiko hated more than Ochako, it was--

“It was me.”

The guardsman halted, staring at you. Around him, the other kingsguard looked dumbfounded and the kitchen staff quieted. Kamiko and the housekeeper looked floored.

“I stole the dress,” you said quickly. “I stashed it under Ochako’s mattress.”

“Y/N, no--!” came from behind you but you paid her no mind.

“It’s not the first time I’ve stolen a noblewoman’s dress,” you said loudly. “I stole the Lady Utsushimi’s gown the night of the ball. Kamiko found that one too, didn’t you?”

Kamiko stood frozen, but a gleeful look was entering her gaze like she couldn’t believe her luck.

“Ask her,” you said to the guardsman. “Ask her what she found beneath my mattress.”

He turned to her in askance and slowly she nodded. “It’s true. I returned the dress to Lady Utsushimi myself.”

You grimaced. “So you see, this isn’t the first gown I’ve stolen and hidden beneath a mattress. Ochako didn’t even know I had done it.”

The guardsman gestured to another of the kingsguard. "You’re to go to Lady Utsushimi to confirm the return of her gown.”

Then he turned back to you. “You’ll be coming with us.”

You hesitated. “Is Ochako free to go?”

He frowned. “If you come with us quietly, no harm will befall the girl.”

You nodded, holding out your hands. Ochako’s fingers clutched at the back of your dress and she muffled a sob into your shoulder.

“Please don’t do this,” she said quietly. “Tell them it’s my dress.”

The guardsman took your outstretched hands, binding them in a thick layer of rope. He knotted it securely, the fibers digging into the skin of your wrists.

“I’ll figure a way out of this,” you said to her under your breath. “I always do.”

The guardsman gave your bindings a tug and you tripped forward. He wrapped a hand in the fabric of your shift, tugging you in front of him. From this angle, you could see the rest of the kitchen staff, staring at you in shock. Rikido fluttered nervously over the shoulders of the kingsguard, looking beside himself. You tossed him a reassuring smile.

The dress in question belonged to no one. If they couldn’t find the owner, perhaps you would be let go with minimal punishment. You only regretted that you wouldn’t get a chance to apologize to Ochako before then, or set things clear with Shouto.

“Ochako,” you said as the guardsman pulled you stumbling along after him. “If Shou - I mean, if he comes looking, tell him I’m sorry I didn’t wait for him.”

Ochako's brow knitted and she opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off the the door to the palace courtyard bursting open.

“WAIT!” A voice gasped out and Izuku Midoriya all but fell inside, followed closely by Kaminari, who was looking especially proud of himself. “Ochako didn’t steal anything, she--you’re not Ochako.”

The door to the courtyard thumped against the opposite wall and rebounded heavily into Kaminari's shoulder, sending him stumbling into Izuku's back.

The guardsman holding you hesitated, looking confused, and you felt your own confusion rise within you. What was Izuku doing here? Had he been who Kaminari had run off to? How did Izuku know Ochako and why would he come running?

Ochako herself answered that question for you.

“Izuku!” she shouted, flinging herself into his arms. Izuku held her to him tightly, pulling her close in a way that that was unmistakably affectionate. His emerald gaze darted worriedly all over her, as though checking her over for injury.

“You’ve got to stop them taking Y/N.” Ochako was pleading into the fabric of his vest. “They think she stole the dress!”

You glanced between the two of them, puzzled. Now was not the time, but you couldn’t help yourself. “Are you two....together?”

Izuku looked at you, a kind expression on his freckled face. “Yes, since...I, um, recognized her at the ball.”

All of a sudden, things snapped into place. That day in the kitchens, the way Izuku’s gaze had been drawn over your shoulder, the blush that rode high on Ochako’s rosy cheeks. Their disappearance at the ball, the night in the corridor where’d you stumbled over Izuku. It all made terrible, horrible sense.

Ochako had never been in love with the prince.

“Mr. Midoriya,” the guardsman said, “Forgive me, but I believe you’re interrupting a criminal investigation.”

“No, sir,” another voice cut in, and you whipped around to find Lady Utsushimi at the other entrance. “I am interrupting a criminal investigation.”

Your mouth dropped open and you felt a little bit like you were losing your mind. Was the entire castle going to come witness your arrest? What was Lady Utsushimi doing here?

A murmur went through the other servants, several of them eyeing Lady Utsushimi with interest. Her gaze swept disdainfully over the chaos of the kitchens, flickering over the guards in their red livery and Ochako clutched in Izuku's hands before landing back on you.

“My afternoon tea was interrupted by a guardsman checking on the return of a dress, claiming that the thief had struck again today,” she said haughtily. “Imagine my surprise when I learned that the accused was none other than my favorite kitchen girl.”

The place staff stared at her, silent.

"I came all the way down to this..." she hesitated, eyes roaming judgmentally back over the messy worktables, "place...to tell you that the dress in question today is also mine. And that Y/N did not steal it, the blessed simpleton. I lent it to her."

Your eyebrows lifted in surprise as another guardsman turned to her in bewilderment. “She herself claims to have stolen it, my lady.”

Lady Utsushimi raised her own scornful eyebrow, and the guardsman seemed to shrink before her. “Are you suggesting that I am a liar, sir?”

That’s exactly what she was. Despite yourself, your heart went out to the poor fop.

“N-no, my lady,” he stuttered. He seemed to cast about desperately for any explanation. “I only meant--”

“I suppose you didn’t even stop to think before marching in here and calling foul, did you?” she demanded, and his panic seemed to increase exponentially.

You had to stifle an absurd laugh. Though not the dress on trial at the moment, you had quite literally stolen this woman’s gown. And here she was, busting into the kitchens to yell at a man for accusing you of the very same.

The eyes of the kitchen staff flicked between them, looking on as though they’d never seen a match more engaging. Their interest was dialed up by a thousand, however, when a head of red and white hair appeared over Izuku’s shoulder.

“Izuku, why’d you run off? Is everything--” Prince Shouto stopped, staring at the scene before him. His full mouth parted in surprise, and instantly his eyes snapped to you.

You flushed, twisting nervously in your bindings.

“Y/N, I thought I had asked you to wait for me,” was the first thing he said. Your blush deepened and a chatter began to build in the crowds of the kitchen staff.

You cleared your throat. “I, um...something came up.”

The prince's eyebrows went up and he huffed a soft laugh. “Yes, I can see that.”

The guardsman who held you shifted nervously behind you. “Your highness, you know this girl?”

Prince Shouto fixed his gaze on the guardsman, stepping forward. “I do. Has she done something?”

A delicate sniff came from over your shoulder. “She's done nothing, as I’ve been telling them.”

Shouto’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Camie? What are you doing here?”

Lady Utsushimi inspected a fingernail idly. “Informing them that she did not, in fact, steal my dress.” She waved her hand at the fluffy monstrosity now hanging loosely in Kamiko’s shocked grip. “This idiot girl," she gestured to Kamiko, "seems to have assumed the worst. Or to have lied.”

Something like fear flashed across Kamiko's angelic features and you had to stifle another laugh.

“Will someone tell me what the devil is going on?” The housekeeper groused from Kamiko's side. “Is there a reason why all these nobles are here for Y/N?”

You had to wonder at that as well.

Lady Utsushimi, however, seemed to have no problem adding fuel to the fire. “I'm here because I lent her my dress, of course," she paused, a sly look crossing her face. A vague sense of sudden foreboding came over you.

"I figured she should get used to wearing them..." Lady Utsushimi said, a smirk overtaking her features,"...seeing as she’s going to be Shouto’s bride.”

Your brain turned off, and you stood frozen in absolute bamboozlement.

What in the hell did she think she was doing?

Shouto coughed uncomfortably. "Camie, I told you that in confidence. I didn't realize you were already acquainted with Y/N."

Lady Utsushimi shrugged, unconcerned. "It's not like you weren't going to ask her."

Your eyes flashed up to Shouto’s and he stared back, lifting a shoulder a little helplessly. “I had planned on asking you a little differently, but I suppose now is as good a time as any.”

He pushed his way past Izuku and strode the length of the room to kneel before you.

You could only stare down at him in shock.

“Y/N,” he said in that soft, low tone that made you feel like your mind feel a little like it was melting. “I love you, and I can't let you go now that I've found you. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

All your blood seemed to rush out of your head to pool somewhere near your feet, leaving you mindless.

“Shouto, but I -- but you --”

He laughed, and he took both of your bound hands in a calloused palm. “I understand if you say you won’t, but I hope more than anything to hear you say you will.”

You looked down at him, your eyes darting over his handsome face. “You mean it? You really love me?”

He smiled. A length of silver ribbon appeared in his fingers. “Since the first moment you trod on my toes.”

You laughed, a feeling of euphoria crashing over you like a tidal wave. You felt incredible, like you could shoot apart like a firework, run the length of the continent, lift the entire castle with only your mind.

Shouto loved you. Ochako loved Midoriya, and Shouto loved you.

"Yes!” you shouted, startling even yourself with your own enthusiasm.

Shouto grinned and leaned forward, looping the silver ribbon over one of your wrists. “I had hoped to have a ring prepared before asking,” he said, shooting a sour look in Lady Utsushimi’s direction. “This will have to do for now.”

Lady Utsushimi inspected her nails again, nonplussed.

Abruptly, Shouto stood, scooping you up into his arms as he did. You yelped, throwing your still-bound arms around his neck in terror. He laughed into your hair.

“Shouto!” You gasped, clutching at him, but he was already moving, kicking the door into the servants’ hall open with one booted foot.

“Camie, Izuku, please see that this situation is resolved,” he said, carrying you into the halls. His deep voice bounced off the stone walls. “And send word to my father than I cannot be disturbed for the rest of the evening. I will speak with both of you later.”

Without waiting for their response, he moved down the hallway, turning the corner into the castle proper. He carried you through the palace, up through that winding series of brightly-lit halls. You blushed as people stared at you in passing, hiding your face in his broad shoulder. Then the world around you was all a blur of windows and doorways, until you stood before the grand oak doors to his apartments.

“Please ensure that we are not disturbed for the next twelve hours,” Shouto said to the guardsmen as they opened the doors for him, and you felt the tips of your ears go red. Surely he didn’t mean...?

As the doors closed behind you, Shouto carried you through his sitting room, straight through the double doors that lead to his bedchamber. His bed appeared much neater this time around, the covers clearly having been laundered and remade, but you did not have much time to admire it before you were tossed bodily onto it.

You yelped, but Shouto was already there, his body covering yours and pressing you into the soft, soft give of his bedding.

“I thought I told you to wait for me,” he said, his face dipping near to yours. His eyes were so bright and a roguish grin cut into the corner of his mouth. A rough hand came up to gently press one of your arms down next to your head.

Your breathing shallowed. “I had wanted to talk to Ochako.”

He looked at you in question.

“I had...believed her to be in love with you. I see now that I was quite mistaken,” you said.

Shouto laughed. “So that’s who Izuku has been sneaking around with. No wonder he ran after her at the ball. She was the Lady Uraraka, yes?”

You nodded.

“And that was why you came to the ball,” he murmured, putting the pieces of the puzzle together. “And slipped her jewelry onto my tray. Why didn’t you say something, that day in my chambers when I asked for information?”

You squirmed. “I thought you were...angry with me. You were asking for the Lady Ito, and Captain Bakugou kept brandishing his sword.”

Shouto smirked. “You thought I meant to have revenge for my poor toes?”

You flushed. “I know now that you wouldn’t.”

His smirk turned predatory. “I rather think I would. I believe I will collect my dues this very moment.”

With that, he leaned down and slotted his mouth with yours. Your blood rushed in your ears. His mouth was so soft and he tasted like mint, exactly the way you'd thought he would.

A calloused hand slipped up your waist to press you up into him. You gasped, arching with the motion of his hand to get closer to him, pressing desperately against him.

He groaned softly and slipped his tongue into your mouth, moving to hold the back of your head in a gentle but firm grip.

“Y/N,” he breathed when he drew back from you. “I shouldn’t go any further. It would be improper, before we are married.”

You let out a frustrated noise and threw your arms over his neck to draw him back to you. “I stole Lady Utsushimi’s dress and broke into your birthday. I called Kamiko a spineless fucking flop and all but poisoned your food with a necklace. I spend every evening up to my elbows in ashes and soot because I can’t keep my mouth shut. I don’t care about proper.”

And then you pulled his mouth back to yours. Shouto seemed to resist for a moment before sinking back into you, his weight trapping you heavily against the mattress.

“Unless you’re worried about your virtue,” you teased when you finally broke apart.

A dark look came into his grey and blue gaze and he gestured to your still bound wrists. “I rather think you ought to be more worried about your own predicament, love.”

A shiver raced down your spine. His sharp gaze caught it and he smirked.

“Like that, do you?” he pushed back onto his knees and pulled his shirt over his head. Your mind went blank, and all your focus narrowed to the sight of his sculpted chest and well defined abs, the promise of power in his sinewy arms. This is what he had been hiding beneath all those soft doublets.

Shouto leaned over you again, caging you in and lowering his face to yours. “That day in the library. You shivered when I called you a good girl.”

You flushed in embarrassment.

“I confess to imagining what else would make you tremble like that.” He turned his face into your neck, biting down softly. You gasped, and your hips lifted into him before you could stop yourself.

“It’s time for me to take my revenge for everything you’ve put me through, love,” he breathed, laving over your collarbone. “You've hid enough from me these past weeks. You are going to come apart for me - once for every day you hid from me.”

You moaned, grasping frantically at his arm. The week wasn't long enough to give him that many climaxes, never mind the evening. “Shouto, I can’t.”

His mouth dipped below the line of your dress. “You're going to try, love. As your prince, I command it. I will wring them from you should I have to.”

Shouto’s fingers moved to the hem of your dress and he pushed it up over your head, helping you move your shoulders to roll it out from underneath you.

“Perfect,” he breathed. His mouth latched over a nipple and you arched desperately up into him. His clever fingers trailed down over the skin of your thigh, before slipping beneath your underwear. He pressed gently against your clit and you moaned even louder, writhing somewhat helplessly underneath him.

“S-Shouto,” you panted. “Please let me touch you.”

His mouth released your nipple, only for him to flick his tongue over the hardening bud. “When I’ve properly avenged my toes, princess.”

His fingers pressed into you and you moaned again. He looked up into your face, staring with interest. You moved to hide your face in embarrassment but he caught you by the arm and pinned it back into the mattress above your head. The bindings held your other arm in place with it.

Shouto kissed you again, and his clever fingers twisted inside you. Heat built within you, and as his thumb pressed insistently against your clit, your vision went white with pleasure.

You rode his hand to completion as he swallowed the sounds of your moans. When you returned to yourself, he was stroking your hair gently as your hips jerked in weak little circles against him.

“So beautiful,” he said, smiling and pressing another kiss to your mouth. “You’ve made me the happiest man alive. You’re going to be the most loved princess this kingdom has ever seen.”

You flushed, but smiled against his mouth. “I hope to at least be the most well-read."

His varicolored gaze raked over you, like he was cataloguing every one of your features to save forever, and his hand tightened in your hair.

"I love you, Shouto,” you said, letting your gaze rove over him too. "I'm sorry to have hid from you for so long."

He smiled, looking elated at your pronouncement. “Y/N," he said, "I love you, too.”

Then, a serious look overtook his handsome face one more. “But I believe we have some unfinished business, love. That’s one,” he said, and his hand moved to unlace his breeches. “But you have several more to go."

He rolled over you, stretching out over your body and reaching for your bindings. "I do think I promised you to teach you how to ride.”

You choked and blushed to the roots of your hair.

And teach you he did.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

May I have a scenario/imagine, whichever makes more sense, of Trey, Rook, and Crewel trying to tame some sort of wild, magical invasive species of Poison Ivy that has taken over the greenhouse?

Crewel gives me perpetually disappointed wine aunt father vibes. This piece also lowkey turned out to be Trey x Rook, but you didn’t read that from me.

This imagine’s longer than my usual 1k word self-imposed limit, since it goes out to a friend of mine that’s been supporting me through final projects and exams. I’m not sure if they’d want me tagging them so publicly, but they know who they are.

Imagine this...

To Professor Crewel’s chagrin, members of the Science Club had never had strong academic intent. In actuality, the club was a thinly veiled excuse to bake cakes (just to find the perfect ratio of leaveners and sweeteners!) and to stalk watch students in their natural habitats (nothing wrong with an impromptu observational study, right?). Instead of test tubes and beakers, the lab benches were littered with cake pans and photographs of unsuspecting Savanaclaw students.

“I do wish you two would take this club more seriously,” Crewel would often gripe, fingers massaging his temples. “Science is not a play thing, it is a powerful tool with which we can use to redefine and reshape the world around us.”

Such were the woes of an instructor--but today, he had no time to lament.

Crewel’s jaw tightened as he gazed upon a sprawling mess--the shattered glass panes of the Botanical Garden, with massive stalks of ivy reaching for the skies. Casualties lined the ground--plants and flowers drained dry of their life, all withered and decayed. The ivy writhed in glee.

(He shouldn’t have been surprised that the headmaster summoned him and the Science Club to resolve the issue instead of hiring a real exterminator.)

“How unseemly,” Crewel noted, clicking his tongue. “Running amok and ruining so many of the specimens we’ve carefully cultivated... This shall not go unpunished.”

He glanced over his shoulder.

“Clover.”

“Yes.” Trey stepped forward, his magical pen ready.

“Hunt.”

“Oui.” Rook followed suit, smoothly drawing forth his own pen.

“The time has come to prove your mettle,” Crewel announced, rapping his pointer against his palm. His onyx eyes seethed with a quiet, controlled rage. “Show this overgrown weed what the Science Club is truly capable of.”

At his command, the boys nodded and tore off toward the Botanical Garden.

Crewel held his ground. The corners of his mouth curled into a condescending smirk as he addressed the poison ivy. “Come here.”

An arm of ivy flew at him, so fast that it was but a blur.

An alive, but livid, blur.

“Heel!”

A column of fire erupted from Crewel’s pointer. His attack slammed against the plant, settings its leaves awash in embers. The rogue plant let out a sky-splitting roar.

The battle had just begun.

Trey ducked under an arc of burning ivy and threw open the door to the Botanical Garden. Tucking his limbs in, he barreled through right as more ivy snaked in to seal off the entrance once more.

He could feel the heat upon his back, the earth quaking under his feet, and Rook close behind him--yet he willed himself to keep his eyes glued ahead, even as he launched across the threshold and into a terrifying new realm.

The inside of the greenhouse now glistened with ivy--covering the glass panes, slowly strangling what few plants remained. The Botanical Garden had always been warm before, but it was unusually so today. Sweltering, and almost so humid that the floors and walls seem to eerily pulsate with life.

“Keep your wits about you, and don’t look back, boys,” Crewel had instructed them. “Just get in there, and cut it off at its source--at the heart.”

Trey’s eyes darted this way and that. Green, green, green. It all looked the same to him. Where in the world was the point of origin?

“Got any ideas?!” He glanced over his shoulder at his partner--and his protective goggles nearly went askew.

Rook had dropped to one knee, pressing a gloved hand against the floor--now a carpet of vines. “Hoooh! What a fascinating specimen!” he marveled. “Such destructive power, and yet it also sports this emerald sheen... Très manifique!”

“H-Hey... No offense, but I don’t think now’s the time to stop and sniff the roses. Or, well. I guess it would be ivy in this case.”

“Non, non! There is always time for beauty--even in dire situations!” Rook insisted, his hands continuing to grope around. His eyes suddenly creased, and his smile turned sly. “Ah, te voilà.”

“Even if you say that, that’s not going to help us fix this...!!”

“Calm yourself, Chevalier des Roses,” Rook advised with an airy laugh. He cupped a hand to his ear and beamed. “Listen closely! Surely even your own heart beckons you to still your worries.”

“Heart?” Trey straightened, adamant as he folded his arms. “Sorry, but I just don’t believe in stuff like that. Come on, Rook. We need to focus--Crewel-sensei’s trusting us with this task.”

He cast a concerned glance at the doorway, ensnared in vines. They’d have to blast their way through later--but if they stayed in this space for too long, they, too, would soon be drained of all their life force. “We can’t just mess around!”

“Ah--but you must put your faith in me as well, Chevalier des Roses!” Rook insisted, pointing to the patch of floor that he had been not-too-subtly groping earlier. “I implore you to lend me your strength!”

“You want me to attack the gr--?!” Trey froze mid-sentence. He had become vaguely aware of a gentle sensation creeping around his ankles.

In an instant, he was yanked into the air, dangling upside down like a useless rag doll. Blood rushed to his head, and his surroundings spun.

“Chevalier des Roses!!”

“I’m fine!! I-I’m fine!” Trey called--though he clearly wasn’t. “I can just--” He waved his magical pen, the air growing tense as a small ball of fire collected at his command.

“Non!” Rook warned, startling his classmate. “There is nothing to cushion your descent, mon amie! You will surely break a leg--and certainly not in the theatrical sense!”

He’s right. Trey’s fire extinguished itself, replaced by a chill crawling down his spine.

“A little help then?!”

Rook’s eyes widened. “You would give me your trust?”

“Not exactly like I have any other choice.” Trey would shrug, but it was a rather difficult motion to pull off while suspended midair--and far more troublesome, his veins ran cold. It was a sure sign of the ivy sapping his energy.

“Have no fear! Today, it shall be my turn to be the chevalier.” The hunter grinned from ear to ear, magical pen in hand.

“Please, Rook! Any day now--before I become plant food!” Trey’s voice was hoarse--from exasperation, or from the magical ivy, he wasn’t quite sure. Perhaps both.

“Just for today, I shall be your Chevalier D’amour.”

And with a confident wink, Rook plunged the ivy-covered floor into a sea of flames.

The accursed plant wailed as it shriveled to ash upon a backdrop of billowing smoke. Embers flickered and danced in the afternoon, the Botanical Garden set ablaze. Crewel took a step back, grimacing at the growing fire.

A figure emerged from the greenhouse, carrying another. The professor squinted into the smoke, pinpointing the familiar outline of his Science Club members--Rook, cradling a pale-looking Trey in his strong arms.

“Puppies.” Crewel pinched his temples.

“C’est chose faite--it is now done.” The brim of Rook’s hat eclipsed his eyes, making the typically cheery hunter appear dark to match his tone. Then he lifted his head, basking in the sunshine, and that somber moment was over. “All is well and good again, as it should be!”

“I... I thought I was going to die,” Trey groaned. “... And Rook, I appreciate you catching my fall, but you didn’t need to carry me out like you’re an action hero in a movie or something.”

“Are you able to still stand after an attack from that heinous plant?”

“Yeah. Just put me down.”

“Oui.”

Trey stood on shaky legs--and instinctively leaned on Rook’s shoulder.

“Well, boys. You’ve exterminated the ivy--as well as just about every other plant in the Botanical Garden. How exactly do you intend to atone for this?!” Crewel snapped, whipping his pointer at his students. “I believe my instructions were quite clear--destroy only the heart of the ivy.”

“The fault lies with me, Monsieur,” Rook declared, dipping into a bow. “We dallied for longer than was necessary, and in a moment of panic, I unleashed my magic.”

“Always one with a flair for the dramatic. Unfortunately, that will not serve you well in detention, Hunt.”

“Wait. Crewel-sensei, that’s not the whole story,” Trey interrupted. “Rook got me out of a pinch--and he deserves credit for that. He’s also the one that found out where the ivy’s heart was--buried in the floor itself. I didn’t realize until it was too late.”

The professor’s lips pursed into a straight line. “Clover, are you confessing to your own negligence?”

“I am.” He nodded firmly. “I’m the one that deserves the detention.”

“Trey-kun is not responsible!” Rook protested. “He is the one that attempted to set us on the right path. I refused to heed his advice, which led to events escalating.”

“I didn’t listen to Rook when he tried to tell me about what I needed to do.”

“I should have phrased it more concisely.”

“You--”

“Trey-kun--”

“Enough. It is clear to me that both of you contributed to this chaos.” Crewel sighed. “... Hunt, take Clover to the infirmary. I will put out the fire myself.

“... Are you letting us go?”

“Of course not. Once you’ve recovered, Clover... you boys will be restoring plants in the Botanical Garden for the remainder of the semester as punishment.”

“Ahhh, I should’ve known. Riddle’s not gonna like this at all.”

“Chin up, Chevalier des Roses! At the very least, we shall have each other’s company!” Rook laughs, smacking Trey on the back and sending his peer nearly doubling over.

Crewel sighed once more--he was disappointed, but not surprised.

His Science Club puppies still had a long way to go.

[paper-cloud]

i. the crushing weight of what happens next

part of "(there will be a) tomorrow"

fandom: prospect (2018) characters: ezra, cee rating: T words count: ~3K context: post-canon general warnings/tags: see series masterlist warnings/tags for this chapter: ezra's pov. angst. not graphic descriptions of wounds, blood and amputated limbs. mentions of minor characters' death. (probably very) inaccurate but anyways vague descriptions of medical treatments and post-anesthesia symptoms. taglist: @ravensmutty @buttercup--bee @thegreenkid (again, thank you all for your interest and encouragement! :3) @krissology @ezrasarm @bonktime (please forgive my nerve, i won't tag you in the next chapters unless you'll explicitly ask me to! just thought about someone else who might be interested and you guys are AMAZINGLY talented and inspiring "prospect"/ezra writers. it's not my intention to waste precious moments of your time! 🤡

[SERIES MASTERLIST] [MAIN MASTERLIST]

He'd have thought it was almost ironic – opening his eyes to the light only to see nothing. To feel pain.

He'd have laughed about it, most likely. A bit later, he'd have acknowledged it was a reasonably fair compromise; for him and any other wretch that'd ever dared play dice with darkness and miraculously made it out alive.

And in the very end he'd come to laugh at himself, too.

He knows the drill. Someone who trades their own life with the contract of the highest bidder doesn't see the universe in black and white, let alone is in a position to draw the hypothetical line between the two of them.

Must be an even more wicked universe than he's ever cared about, then.

At least, that's where the struggle of opening his eyes made him stumble upon; when a blade of light thrust through that hint of a gap he'd pushed himself to create in the middle, resonating through the dark coils of unconsciousness like a harsh, unforgiving bell.

A skilled mariner over silky rivers of natural redundancy and rapids of professional edges, Ezra is a man who can appreciate a sharp wit when he recognizes one.

That was too much even for him.

Floundering in between a blinding whiteness and a black hole that wasn't even completely black, but permeated by a thick, suffocating haze that filled every ghost haunting his mind with its stench. With the color of diabolically lush leaves.

Forest— spores— poison— death.

It hadn't been enough to let him dangle in apnea above a roaring vortex of lifeless emerald; take him away from the grey flow whose elusiveness he'd come to appreciate more than he'd ever hated to endure its chaos— from the bubble built on the routine series of one last jobs that, in the end, never really were.

There'd been a moment when, from the higher parts of the room, his pupils tumbled down, tripping over a patch of green discreetly lurking in a corner.

He almost threw up.

It had taken him a while to clear out the misty grit clotted in his corneas— focus on white walls, light wood paneling... a harmless seedling in a pot.

He'd breathed heavily, deeply. He sure hadn't got much relief from it. Still, he'd been able to hear its sound, louder than he'd ever heard it before, the musical, cooling mesh of oxygen particles in and out of his lungs almost begging his fingers to be touched.

Oxygen.

Fresh air.

Had he been less sore – less convinced it was just the residual effects of anesthesia pulling pranks on him –, he would have burst out laughing. Even more so if some poor soul of the medical staff nearby would have called for reinforcements from the other side of the space station before storming into his room.

He'd be laughing now, too. The best he can manage is sitting on his bed, leaning his back on the headboard – which is what he's struggling to do right now— and well, sometimes the room lighting still slightly bothers him. Of course, with all the painkillers and antibiotics they've given him, he wouldn't feel like the wound on his stomach is swallowing the entire arsenal of stitches and bandages.

He just wouldn't like her to get the wrong idea.

He blinks several times, like a man who no longer trusts his eyes. How can he, when they're burning like that, in such a different fire from the one from days before – damp and flickering? For reasons he can imagine, she seems to be faltering. Totally beyond his comprehension, he could swear she's smiling at him. Something inside his ribcage creaks oddly, while the curve of his chest arches upward.

"Birdie."

It's just a huff of breath, weak and hoarse, yet scratches his throat all the same, in a way that its walls feel studded with rock spurs. Actually, Ezra doesn't remember talking since they left the Green behind – which, being him, is saying something – and it's like an eternity has passed since their pod docked up there.

The nurse who let her into his room has just left and Cee sinks her hands into the pockets of her sweatpants. She's still smiling— just the faded shadow of a smile, now that he takes a better look at her.

"How's your wound?"

It sounds a lot less plain than he expected.

She hasn't moved towards him any further, and for now she's not showing any hints at wanting to. In her irises, Ezra recognizes thumping stars and cerulean clouds, all clustered in the black circle cut by the large porthole next to his bed. All before catching the thin mist veiling them. As if she did want to reach those stars, let herself get carried away by those streams of bluish dust, but she had no idea how or what to do there.

He looks down, the borders of the bandages over his abdomen slightly raised under his black short-sleeved tee. He clears his throat.

"S'healin' nicely", he says, with a deliberate lightheartedness that costs him a sharp, bizarre inflection in his voice. He closes his eyes soon after, tilting his head condescendingly. "That's how the nurse feels about it, anyway... S'not like I can feel much more right now."

This reminds him of those vacuous moments between brief, chaotic waking states and delirious dreams. When he'd managed to reconnect some essential key points scattered around in the talks of surgeons and nurses; the weariness he felt from simply gathering he was on a space station due to enter the orbit of Mesos in three cycles and something standard hours. All while his only solid reference point – the only indisputable proof he was still alive – was the sequence of beeps chirped by the medical monitor perched nearby. Constant, not monotonous. Friendly, even. Sometimes, he actually comes to miss it.

"A trust fall to the extreme, I'd guess", he snorts, a sly laugh as weak and heavy as the words trudging out of his mouth. As the whole rest of him.

Whatever answer she's considering, Cee freezes it in a quick purse of her lips – maybe a nod, but for his own good he'd rather be doubtful. Then she starts looking around.

There's a chair under the board firmly anchored to the opposite wall – probably a desk or something he's never needed to test, whatsoever. She grabs it and puts it next to his bed. She sits down, bringing her legs to her chest, squeezing them in her arms.

Waiting for what, Ezra has no idea, and he's afraid she doesn't have any, either.

He doesn't speak, though, nor does he encourage her to do the same. Her pearly gaze roams steadily but unhurriedly from him to somewhere beyond him, her nose buried in the gap between her knees. He studies her carefully, two purple crescents above her cheeks, a few hair strands swinging down her face without her wiping them out. The nights she's slept through haven't been any more peaceful than his.

Trust, he recalls in the meantime.

It sure brings an odd taste to his mouth. Something close to sweaty spacesuits, grimy paths and gone-off ration bars. A single word for two human beings forced to share the same air filter for days; that, and the image of a dead body left to rot miles behind and the desperate commitment not to end up in the same way.

His gaze just happens to trip over his right side, taking in the deflated sleeve over the emptiness that saved his life. When he lifts it back to the girl, meeting her eyes just before they can flutter away, he realizes they were both looking at the same spot. And he realizes something else— something he's already understood, yet not quite.

There is no tube binding them now.

"Why d'you do it?", he mumbles a split second later, almost like somehow the thread of his question has immediately knotted to the one of his previous thought.

He huffs. He shouldn't even have asked her, in all honesty. Seeing her like this, at least he should have put it in another way, danced around it, it's not like he’s never been good at stalling, after all—

"Comin' back", Ezra says instead, and when he swallows, he mainly does it to send his heart back down his throat. If he'd died without being given the last chance to be this straightforward on this matter, he would have probably kicked his ass all the way to the other side. 

This time, Cee doesn't avoid his gaze. He shouldn't be surprised by how collected she looks, given the calmness she handled his infected arm with and then told him about when she used to slip into Jata Bhalu carcasses. But he can't help it when he thinks she can't be much older now than what she was then.

He watches her breathing in, wobbling her pupils here and there, seemingly considering his words. She's not afraid, not any more than what she seemed to be when she walked into his room. Maybe she's just better than him at playing pretend – but this, he can't tell whether it's more of a good than a bad thing. Especially for her.

One thing he can tell is that she's not the same girl who pointed a trembling gun at him before running away into the woods. He knows she's not afraid.

He knows...

So is it the hunter's instinct he has to blame if he feels she is?

"Guess I've seen too much death on that forsaken moon to just... turn my back on one I can help– one I can do something about."

If he was standing in front of an entire mountain crumbling down into the ocean, he wouldn't hear its sound. ‘Wouldn't even be the worst he deserves. She did hesitate before adding the last few words, but Ezra refuses to believe she did that because she was afraid of hurting him. He may be a wretch, but not a fool.

Kevva, for a man who's always managed to untwist himself from far tougher situations with the tangles of his tongue alone, he's sure having a deal of trouble – and he wishes he could put all the blame on his current physical condition.

There is no word he doesn't have to weigh carefully now, to prevent it from taking too sharp edges once out of his lips. He may float around it forever. But once he's let her go without saying anything, he'll hardly find the courage to look within himself again, more than after any other job that hardened his hands with calluses and tarnished his eyes with blood.

He doesn't know for sure. In fact, everything he was sure to know – about the turning direction of the universe and the one of the wheels in his head – has already collapsed in front of him, tracing a flaming tail. An unforgiving meteor following a trajectory far beyond his grasp.

He just knows silence scares him, in a way that a wrong word will never do again. It terrifies him. More than as a talkative person, as a castaway on a hostile moon for too many cycles to keep their count – with the only company of a mute. Silence is green; the green of the most poisonous pollen, lethal in his brain just like toxic spores enveloped in his lungs. The green of snake scales ready to stand and scratch his flesh until liquid crimson pours out of it.

And at the end of the day, this is the only fucking thing he can tell himself to know without having his guts churning and chest heaving a beat later.

"Stop looking at me like that."

It's more of an exhausted prayer than an annoyed remark. Ezra blinks, stunned by the sudden return from the shapeless stream of his thoughts.

"Like what?"

"Like you're looking for the words to thank me", Cee settles back into her chair and this time she lets one leg touch the floor, "Tell me you owe me, and you– you're sorry about what you did."

Ezra sniffles. "Would it be bad?" 

"No, it—". She closes her eyes for a moment, clenching her jaw. "Just no good", she breathes out, calmer.

And the discordant note in those words conjures up ghosts not yet vague enough for Ezra to be able to tolerate them without something twinging inside him— like a violent flutter of wings. Voices groping their way up ravels of compromises. Damon, deep in the forest. Himself, with the mercenaries in the Queen's Lair. Cee, days before that. After he—

She's right— those words she hasn't said yet, but whose shadow he feels looming every time he catches her wetting her lips.

Some things just can't be split evenly.

"This is not the Green", she states, suddenly more confident but no less exhausted. "If you're going to hang around just because you need to, once we reach Mesos¹ you'd better be on your way."

Ezra doesn't interrupt her. A faded echo starts making its way into his ears. A former prospecting partner, many years ago. An easy job on a forgettable Fringe moon.

Gems don't have an expiration date. Deals do. Strike 'em if you need to, get rid of them as soon as you can. Unless you care to dig a quicker way to your grave.

He didn't pay attention to it, then. He'd thought it was just the empty rhetoric prospectors drop absentmindedly to fill the time between an unrewarding digging and the next. All the more so under the rickety advice of a couple too many.

His eyes still wide open, hands shaky, he merely reciprocated the awkward bottle lift of his partner, whom he didn't know more than the meanders of that quarry. A toast to a faceless future – a nothingness still more reassuring than what was all around and behind them. Not to the darkness of the cave, basically unbreakable if only for the red halo thrown by the twinkles of sharp, sinister Prystines². Not even to the two poor bastards that had set out with them, ending up skewered a few hundred paces behind – one by mistake, the other to return the favor of saving him from the clutches of a furious Aiu³.

Like an idiot.

Several contracts later preventing him from missing a beat in front of similar hiccups, the logic of that statement no longer sounds so absurd to Ezra. Luckily for him, Cee understood it long before him.

"I was just lookin' for the words to tell ya you'll be better off without me—"

Half a truth. Half a heartbeat. After all, she isn't the only one of them who knows how to sell it.

He leans his head back against the headboard, eyes half-closed, a sly grin baring a couple of his upper teeth. It would almost be intimidating, except that the glint hitting them doesn't quite match the dying one in his eyes.

"—But you beat me to it", he finishes, and he sounds like he's about to fall asleep.

He slowly turns his head away, looks through the porthole. His gaze clutches to the passing asteroids outside, distant nebulae spraying the sidereal black with hues of purple, blue, red— then green, again. A climbing plant squeezing him from the inside, discomfort starts creeping on him an inch of his body – what's left of it – at a time.

He doesn't want her to think he's angry at her, and it's the only concrete foothold emerging from the fluid, magmatic chaos in his mind.

How could he be, when she came back to get him?

She didn't have to.

She doesn't have to be here, either...

"I'm sorry", she suddenly blurts out.

He meets her eyes again, a mix of bewilderment and disapproval shading his own. He shakes his head.

"Don't."

"I just—". She starts fiddling with the extra fabric created by the folds of her sweatpants. Then she sighs deeply. "I have no idea what I'm gonna do now."

He snorts. "Not that it's s'pposed to make you feel any better, but... neither do I."

He doesn't have a hazy helmet choking the glimmer in his eyes, an air filter breaking some frequencies in his voice— maybe just those making him sound sincere, while saving those trapping him into the swamp of self-loathing.

He was nothing but honest when he told her the rules of the game on the Green. When he openly admitted he was a killer, and when he assured her he wouldn't trade her for the Sater's Aurelac. And she's always seemed to believe him, maybe for that kind of desperate inertia that washes over people when they need something to cling to. Whatever the case, Ezra can only hope she wants to believe him now. But she doesn't speak, and for a moment his fear of not saying enough overcomes that of crossing her boundaries.

"But w—", he immediately bites his tongue, "—you still have three cycles to figure things out. Someone up here will be able to help you. Even so, please know you'll always have my most sincere gratitude."

The effort of lining up all those words and so few pauses to catch his breath casts a thick fog over his ears. His eyes suddenly hurt again and he finds himself squinting.

What happens next, he just records it, hardly managing to follow each cause-effect relationship. A series of events softly raining on him without making a noise, while he can quite imagine them to be way more prolonged in time. Cee leaning towards the lighting panel on the wall, sliding her finger counterclockwise, and the white coating the walls turning less painfully bright; her getting up, walking away, dwelling just before the door. "I'll come to check on you tomorrow", she says, sniffling.

She tilts her head, holding his gaze in her watery one for an agonizingly slow while – Please, don't ask me why.

He blinks once – Of course.

Then, the automatic door is once again engulfed by the wall, closing behind her with a metallic rustle.

Tomorrow.

His heart is taken by a spiraling jolt that leaves an empty cave behind. When it falls back into place, Ezra finds something has tripped in there, shapeless and quivering like the nucleus of a newborn star.

Hope, terror and everything that lies in between. 

___________________

NOTES:

1) Mesos — Invented planet. Its only raison d'être is that "mésos" in Greek means "middle" and my intent was to frame this story in a moment of transition (after those of movies) for both Ezra and Cee. 2) Prystines — Invented kind of crystals. They're implied to be huge, red and very sharp, thus endangering the path through the cave. 3) Aiu ��� Invented predator, ideally a big feline.

A/N:

Yeah, uhm... at this point, if someone was ever to give me any kind of feedback, constructive criticism or random thought, I think I'd just melt into a puddle for the attention alone. And to all those who came all the way down here, your bravery shall not be forgotten. ♥️✨

In my defense, it's (almost) all P**** P*****'s fault & of his habit of taking orphans under his wing from one planet to another.

I know people in the fandom generally tend to make Ezra and Cee go along straight away after the movie, so this will be a slightly different take on things, I guess... But even if I don't know if I'll keep this series going atm (life & maturity exam suck), a final reconciliation is definitely on the way. ;)

Oh, and any beta reader that should feel like helping me out for when I'll have the next chapters ready is warmly welcomed! My DMs are always open and I swear I don't bite! :3

[bookwyrminspiration]

Yes!! Go get to those other asks from other people from earlier in the year!! I will scream at you like your cat!!

But yeah, that doesn't really look like him but I have imagined him getting a beard with a big puff of hair (is hair is curlier than what I can draw but it isn't coily and he tends to straighten it when it's shorter anyway)

Anyway!! Here's the description!!

--

They turned towards the new comer, and were taken aback. He was quite tall, taller than most; the sunlight danced across his tawny brown skin in a way that made him look almost angelic, but despite this, he looked quite... Normal. He had fluffy chestnut hair with the front cut to just above his eyes. It was parted on the left side, giving a clear view of what was obviously his most unique feature; His eyes. They were a cross between being round and almond shaped, with not dark but certainly there lashes. The dark brown was broken up by shards of emerald green, it was easy to get lost in them- who knew what secrets lay in their depths. His beauty was almost surreal- and yet, there was soemthing off about him. Something they couldn't quite describe. Maybe it was the oil stains splattered over his white button up or the frayed edges of his suspenders? No, this made him seem more human, less like a statue come to life. Was it the bored expression he tried to keep on his face, even when he flicked his eyes to the side and awkwardly shoved his hands in his pockets?

They blushed as they realised that they had been staring and quickly looked away. Maybe it wasn't that, then.

But then what was it...?

--

'They' is just a place holder pronoun so I could fit this on somewhere otherwise I wouldn't know how to explain it, but it was fun to write! And yes, I guess it is a skill, but I love the part where you can inspire images in others and forcibly give them concepts that you'd struggle to do otherwise, and each person has their own interperatation!!

I'll submit the few drawings I have on my phone, most of them are colourless sketches so yeah. If i wanted to do a coloured image then I would have to go onto my ipad but j don't have many sketches that show more of him so I'll have to figure that out

But yes!! Go answer the asks from early October!!

-Heathen

heathen! hello! in a fun turn of events, this is actually now one of my oldest asks! not the oldest, which is...also one from you...that I have in my drafts that I keep forgetting exists because I never look in there. I blame nanowrimo and then also the chaos of december for getting me so behind. I used to try and answer all my asks within a week of getting them and now I have multiple asks that are like 2 months old!!

and seeing as I answered your asks out of order, I do now know what he looks like and that what I envisioned is...not anywhere close to that. But! I do still really like the visuals you provided for Maui, so I'm curious how that will translate into writing.

okay so it does match up well with your drawing!! But I do find it hilarious that they said "his most unique feature: his eyes." when he literally has a mechanical arm. Just goes to show how beautiful his eyes are if the arm thing can be overlooked! There are a few things that it's easier to communicate through writing (for me at least) like behaviors--awkwardly shoving hands in pockets, trying to keep a blank face--so it's interesting to see this perspective.

I wonder what secrets lay in the depths of his eyes, as you put it. It must but quite a bit or quite significant if it's the kind of thing you can pick up on after only staring for like a minute. So either those secrets are prominent enough to show through that poker face, or he actually doesn't have a great poker face.

I enjoy how there seems to be something off about him, something the viewer can't pick up on but designates him as other. Those are always fascinating dynamics to play with!!

I'm glad it was fun to write and that you found a way to make it work!! I think the skill we're talking about is writing but it's been a while so unsure but! A lot of it comes down to practice and consistency, but also exposure. The more you read, the easier it is to write, in my experience. I have learned so much grammar by reading, which is incredibly helpful in class! I've got down mechanisms that my peers are only learning the names of, able to use them with like 85% confidence most of the time. Reading also teaches you what you like in a story, so you can write yours like that! But also reading is just fun.

For me, it's fascinating to see how people interpret the words I use to describe things, because my mind isn't very visual. There's just an implicit understanding of what I mean without actually seeing it, so i can't imagine faces or places or really anything very well (despite being a maladaptive daydreamer). So when people take what I've done and turn it into something visual, I get to see how they see it!! It's so cool

as for the images, I answered things out of order so you've already sent them and I responded. And they were very cool! Thank you for sharing them with me.

I no longer have asks from early october to answer, but now I have asks from throughout November and all of December...so that's what I've gotta do now. We'll see how productive I can be given that I have 3 more classes starting tomorrow, my mom needs me to help with inventory at her work, and a few days ago I accidentally rekindled the passion of 6th grade me when it comes to reading and have been reading nonstop for several days.

Hopefully I can start to make a dent in them if I don't get too distracted!!

[xsparklingravenx]

breathtaking

Title: breathtaking

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Characters: Albedo, Klee

Rating: G

Word Count: 2,275

Summary: The times that Klee and Albedo tell each other to breathe.

AO3

The paintbrush dashed across the canvas, and in turn, something true came to life.

On the grassy plains of Mondstadt’s surrounding areas, a boy stood silent, a palette of colour in one hand, the brush in the other. Gently, he curved those colours across the blank sheet, splashes of blue and green and brown, the boars that roamed the plains recreated in paint and chalk outlines.

These boars were unremarkable, but that in itself was what made them noteworthy. Such a contradiction shouldn’t have made sense, but to the boy, it was perfect enough to immortalise. Hilichurls and Abyss Mages took to these lands like they were their own, but still the boars persisted, living free and unafraid. At any moment, they could be hunted, for sport or for food, and yet the few before him had survived their entire lives out in an unforgiving world.

Now they lived immortal in his image. Caught up in his work, he paid no attention to the passing of time around him, how the sun crossed the sky, how the wind danced across his skin, the Anemo Archon’s quiet blessing. Another brushstroke here and there brought his vision closer to completion. The boars continued to graze. The grass was emerald green, and if he mixed his colours just right, then maybe—

A distant explosion had him pausing. The boy turned his head, a single strand of pale hair falling into his eyes as he searched for the source. Somewhere over the hills, it seemed, far enough from him that he needn’t pay it any mind. Were the Knights of Favonius out exterminating vermin today? He wondered, idly, if Sucrose was with them, though he didn’t identify any sort of Anemo traces in the air from this far away. Another boom in the air, and he cast the thought aside, returning his attention to his art.

Life stilled around him once more. That was it. The boars carried on quietly. The colours melded together. Three boars, quiet, content, living beings, born from the soil and destined to return to it. They breathed, interacted with the elements, survived—

An explosion shook the air, so close that it rattled his canvas. The boy stopped still, a frown on his face, because he was certain he knew that sound. And he knew that intensity.

And he knew that brand of giggling.

He opened his mouth to shout, to cry, wait—but he was a fraction too late. The sight before him erupted into fire and chaos as an explosion roared and took out every single sign of life in front of him. The grass flamed, the boars that had survived their entire lives out on the plain now little more than charred carcasses before him. He stared at the carnage in front of him, the canvas still depicting his quiet moment from moments before, wordless at the sight.

And then, from the smoke and disaster, a tiny figure came sprinting out, arms at her side, eyes wide. She skidded to a stop before the boy, planting her hands on her hips, looking immensely pleased with herself. “Albedo! Did you see Jumpty Dumpty! It went boom!”

Albedo looked beyond her, to where the grass was still burning, smoke rising up into the sky. “Klee…? Why did it have to be here?”

He knew better than to question her intentions, because her intentions were always cause the biggest explosion possible. She beamed at him, and then, spotting his canvas, she bolted up to it. “Oh! Oh! Were you drawing again? It looks really good!”

“I was…up until you decided to blow my subjects up, yes.” Albedo looked between the smoking grass, the charred meat that was cooking in the fire, and his art, which was miraculously unscathed. “How did you…why were you…where’s Jean?”

Klee giggled. “Master Jean is busy today, so she let me go exploring! I wanted to try out some of my treasures, but Kaeya says that ‘explosion inside city wall, grounded be thy woe’, so here I am!”

She admired his painting as he looked down at his colours and wondered if he should add the fires to his painting. It was hardly an interesting specimen to recreate.

“They look really cool, Albedo is so good at making pictures!” Klee sat on the ground in front of it and watched the flames rise. “I didn’t know you’d be here, I just got lucky! I haven’t seen you in a while…you’re always so busy, but now we can hang out, right? Maybe we can play with my treasures?”

Playing with her treasures was a shortcut to a fiery doom, but he couldn’t deny that her words instilled a sense of guilt in him. So caught up in his alchemic studies as of late, all his time had been spent with Timaeus and Sucrose. He’d been hanging up his do not disturb sign constantly, and Klee had been all but left to her own (chaotic) devices. “Sorry, Klee. I didn’t realise you wanted my attention. Seeing as the boars are all…well, halfway to becoming a sticky honey roast, I suppose I can spare some time to play with you. Not that it was exactly how I saw my day going.”

“Oh! Oh! Can we find a cooking pot? Can you make Woodland Dream? I love when you cook, Albedo! It’s just like when you do your alchemy stuff, like, you go poof and then…bam! You make something new!”

Her enthusiasm might have been infectious to someone else, but fortunately, Albedo had been blessed with the ability to remain calm and casual-minded in her presence. “Considering we have plenty of fresh meat right here, Woodland Dream seems like a waste.”

“But if you make that, then I can go and get all the fishes with Jumpty Dumpty! We can play, and then we can eat! And then you can draw. Maybe you can draw me?”

She hopped up as Albedo considered her request. He hardly ever used his skills to paint that which did not pique his interest in the realm of alchemy, but she’d asked so earnestly. Would it be so wasteful to dedicate a couple of hours to produce happiness?

“Albedo?”

He looked down. The fire was beginning to die away now behind Klee, the grass singed and blackened. She adjusted her backpack, and he said, “Yes?”

“You should breathe,” she said, smiling impossibly wide. “Come on, let’s go! We’ve got fishes to get!”

And then she was gone, dashing off across the plains, and he realised that she was right. In his pursuit of life, in his creation of art, he had not taken a single breath in. He closed his eyes and did as she asked, allowing himself the mimicry of human necessity. Nobody noticed, except her, and she didn’t question it.

In the distance, she turned and shouted, “Albedo! I’m gonna leave you behind if you don’t hurry!”

Packing up his art supplies, he chased after her, thoughts of eruptions in the back of his mind. It was going to be a long day, keeping her from wanton destruction, but at least she’d be happy—and he couldn’t deny that a day spent with her wouldn’t brighten his spirits regardless.

***

The outskirts of Dragonspine mountain were bitterly cold, the water close to freezing entirely, and yet the moment Klee went beneath the surface, Albedo didn’t hesitate to dive beneath.

It wasn’t supposed to be serious. He’d asked the traveller and her floating companion for assistance in collecting Starsilver for an alchemical recipe, and yet Lumine had shown up on the mountain side with Klee in tow, claiming that she’d been with her when he’d sent word to Mondstadt that he wished for her help, and that she refused to stay behind.

“It’ll be fine!” Paimon had declared in Lumine’s lieu. “Paimon thinks that even if things go bang, at least it’ll be nice and warm!”

“And we can always cook you over one of her open flames if things start looking dire,” Lumine added, looking a little smug.

Klee had been giggling then, but that had been before they’d run into the Lawachurl, before the lumbering beast had picked her up in its great hands and thrown her through the air. Her scream still rang out in his ears. Life born from soil was so fragile, and that was what he’d thought when he’d watched, helpless, as she hit the water and sank beneath it.

He had not thought through his plan, he’d just acted, tossing aside his sword and abandoning the traveller to the battle. The cold had not been a factor in his mind. The fight was forgotten. Miss Alice’s words echoed in his skull, treat her like a real younger sister!

Elder brothers protected their siblings. The traveller had told him stories of her own brother, how she would do anything to find him. She’d also mentioned the Fatui Harbinger who would do anything for the sake of his baby brother, and he knew of Diluc’s loyalty to his own non-blood sibling, how the rift between him and Kaeya had not prevented him from coming to his aid before. Albedo was not related to Klee, but she was his sister nonetheless, and that meant he had to save her.

The water was akin to ice, but his body withstood it, powered by something more than adrenaline. His eyes stung, but there she was, floating lifelessly, a small body so still, and something surged in his chest, emotion that he did not often feel, emotion that overtook his thoughts, his logic.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to his chest, and oh, she was still a child, still so tiny, with so much power but as fragile as every other being. He thought of the boars she’d taken the lives of that day before his canvas, how she’d ended their existence with the childish joy of an exploded bomb, and he thought of the Lawachurl and its base desire to attack. They were not the same, yet they were; life was inexplicably difficult to understand.

He broke the surface, not choking or hacking, but that was normal for him. Klee did not move. There were no coughs, no groans, no cracking open of her eyes. She was limp in his arms, drenched through and frozen in his arms.

“Klee!” Albedo shouted, the roar of the Lawachurl’s fierce battle with Lumine nearly sweeping away his voice. He kicked his legs to keep them afloat, but he was losing his strength fast, the cold sweeping it away. “Wake up!”

Still, she didn’t move. She hung there in his grasp, and it was then that he realised that she wasn’t breathing. Fear gripped his heart as he dragged her through the water to the snowy bank. He had to hope that Lumine could hold it off without him. He had to hope that there was still enough of Klee left in her body for him to save.

Pushing back his shivers, he laid her on the snow and tipped her head back. Acting on instinct more than thought, he pressed the heel of his hand to her chest, one hand instead of two, not wanting to hurt her with his actions, but wanting to keep her with him through any means necessary.

Usually, he brought things to life through the act of creation, through alchemy, through his paintbrush and his clever mind. This was different. Klee was already living, he just had to keep her that way, and in his experience, keeping something alive was almost always more difficult than giving it a pulse. Practicality and alchemic practices went hand-in-hand, and yet here he was, doubting himself.

He pressed down. One compression. Two. Three. Keeping track of the time between them as Lumine shouted behind him, as the Anemo Archon’s winds whipped across his skin, as the unforgiving bitterness of Dragonspine bit deep into his bones of chalk. Albedo thought of blooming flowers, of exploding bombs, and he thought of Miss Alice and his own chest splintered beneath the pressure.

“Breathe, Klee!” he cried. “Breathe!”

And she did. She choked. Water expelled itself from her lungs as Albedo sat back to give her space. He heard the thump of the Lawachurl hitting the ground behind him, and, trusting Lumine to finish it off, he gave Klee all his attention.

As her breathing calmed, he asked, “Are you okay? Klee, speak to me.”

“Too much water…” she whispered, reaching out her arms to him. “I was scared…”

He knelt in front of her and answered her request silently, pulling her close to his chest as she buried her head into his. Alive. She was still frozen but she was alive.

“Your catalyst,” he said. “Your Vision. Use it.”

Between them, Pyro erupted, warmth in a different sense than her usual explosions. It swept through him and her both, and into his chest, she said, “You rescued me, Albedo…”

“Of course I did.”

And as she wrapped her tiny arms back around him, she said, “Breathe too, please?”

He closed his eyes and did. In and out in time with her, soil and chalk. The oxygen did nothing for him, but it did everything for her, so he followed her lead, this girl full of energy and life, his family until the end.

“Woodland Dream when we get back,” he said. “I promise.”

She held onto him tight, and he listened to her breaths, the cold forgotten, the fear draining away.

He could breathe for her as much as she needed him to.

[frogsoks]

Dancing

Hey friends! How long has it been? Probably quite a while lol. I kind of took a mental break after a little drama happened irl, but meanwhile I took up drawing! I'm obviously not a complete professional yet, but I might post a couple creations that I find worthy of share. But enough squabble. Here's a work in progress for you to read :)

-----

“Cole! Stop hiding under the table and put your pants on, please!”

Lou sighed. Today was… not going quite as he’d planned, to say the least. The dance lesson started in 10. Great. They’ve got some time before they had to leave. And besides, it’s the first day today, they couldn’t possibly get mad, right? Right. Nothing to worry about.

Lilly giggled as she tried to pry her 3 year old child out from under the table. “Cole,” she cooed. “If we don’t get these pants on you we’re going to be late for your first dance class!”

Cole looked up at her from under the table, wearing nothing but his underwear and T-shirt, staring at his mother innocently with his wide emerald eyes. Those eyes quickly turned VERY mischievous, and he gave her a wide grin, his baby teeth poking out here and there from underneath his gums. Lilly laughed at the sight.

Then,

Cole ran out from underneath the table, fast. Well, as fast as a three year old who just recently learned how to walk could.

Lilly chased after.

Chaos ensured.

Lou chuckled as he watched the love of his life chase their child around the house. Laughing and screaming could be heard as Lilly picked him up, playfully tackled little Cole to the ground, and tried to pry his pants onto him.

_______

Cole pouted as he sat in the car, hating the foreign feeling of pants on his legs. He decided he didn’t like it, not one bit.

The evil Madame Stone had won this time, but the totally awesome, super cool and dashingly handsome Captain Dangerbuff still had a couple tricks up his sleeve. First, he just had to escape this prison-chair… thing.

Where were they taking him, anyways?

He looked out the clear cell walls to see every tree and building speeding past him. And- was that..? Ooh! Look! A lollipop! Maybe this place wasn’t so bad after all. It was painfully close, just wedged in between the two seats next to him. Seems manageable, and looks delicious.

He tried to reach for the sweet treat, only to find his arm couldn’t quite get to it. Great. Cole sighed. How was he supposed to-

The moving prison stopped moving. And.. the walls were opening too! Yes! This was his chance. And.. oh, look! It’s- _______

“Here we are..” Lou sang as he put the car into park and pulled the key out of its slot, making the rumbling vehicle die down.

Lilly was already out of her seat, and opening the door to Cole’s. Said toddler was currently trying to reach for a… lollipop? How did that even get there?

She giggled, finding it quite adorable. She reached for the seatbelts and undid them, scooping the now whining boy into her arms.

Lou sighed, running a hand over his face. Taking care of a child is much more complicated than he’d initially thought. Although, if he did think more deeply into it, it did have its perks.

Cole was certainly one of a kind, and nothing beat waking up knowing that he had a future to look forward to. Both for him, and his family.

After all, Lou was a happy man. He had a loving wife, and a beautiful son. He wouldn’t trade them for a thing.

_____

If there was one thing Lou wanted right now, was to trade Cole away to some far away place where he’d learn manners so he could have some peace and quiet.

Okay, maybe he wasn’t 100% serious about the trading part, but it would make his life SO much easier if his son would stop doing embarrassing stuff day after day.

After they tangled their son out of the car seat and straightened him up a bit (much to Cole's condemn), the family decided to take in the beautiful view in front of them that was known as "Miss Ferns Dance Institute". The name itself had sprung seeds of doubt into Lilly's head, but Lou had assured her that Miss Fern was the best person to teach Cole the basics before he could be enrolled in a "proper" dance school.

The sight before them... well. It was certainly quite a sight. The building itself wasn't at all as pleasing to look at as the world renowned Marty Oppenheimer, with suspicious brick walls covered in graffitis saying some... unfriendly messages, and the broken windows, a couple window frames lacking the window itself...

Long story short, it looked questionable. For a dance school. For toddlers.

_____

Once stepping inside, the school didn't look quite as menacing. It was actually kind of cute, if you saw the little drawings made by kids on the wall, and the coloured wooden floorboards. It looked more like a place where little children could enjoy themselves. The name still sparked a couple questions to Lilly, but she'd have to put it aside for now. Who was she to judge a school based on it's name, after all?

Of course, upon entering, Cole ran straight to the drawings on the wall, admiring the messily scribbled animals and scenery. Lilly smiled at the sight. She looked around the room, spotting a couple other families huddled here and there, talking amongst themselves.

Lilly gathered her own family together, and they sat down on the right side of the room.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Lilly whispered to her husband once seated. "What if Cole doesn't even like dancing?"

"My love," Lou said, grabbing a hold of Lilly's hand a gently placing a kiss on it, making her giggle. "This is his first class. You don't even know how he'll like it. Besides, I'm sure Miss Fern is wonderful. I've only heard good things about her classes."

Lilly rolled her eyes and laughed. "The writings on the building say otherwise."

_____

Lou was about to say something when he noticed the chatter had died down in the room. Lilly had called Cole over to her lap by now, whispering sweet words into his ear and placing gentle kisses into his dark hair, making him giggle.

Lou smiled but turned his head to where the rest of the families were looking, and waited for the well known and so-called wonderful dance teacher to come out.

What he'd said to his wife earlier was true, after all. He'd heard of Miss Fern from a couple members of his quartet, the Royal Blacksmiths, and all they'd said was 'Oh, Lou! Miss Fern is an absolute delight! You should try out her class' and 'Oh, Lou! she's even got a class for toddlers! You should enroll Cole there!'

Naturally after those praises he had to see just how good a teacher this woman was.

His thoughts were interrupted when someone started talking at the far sight of the room. It wasn't a woman's voice, though. Maybe her assistant?

"Well hello everyone! So great to see you all here with the wee ones. Oh, Lou! So glad you could come, my man."

Lou's blood ran cold.

He'd recognize that voice anywhere.

"Unfortunately for you, Miss Fern was unable to make it to todays class. Fortunately for you, she has a wonderful -and dare I say handsome- substitute here in her place today. Let me introduce myself."

Ugh. Here we go.

"My name is Teyandro Moreno, but you can just call me Tey. No long boring names in this house. And yes- you're probably wondering what happened to my eye?"

Dear god.

"Well, believe it or not, an alligator ate it. More on that later though."

No, Please.

"Now! What do you say we do a little... dancing?"

sigh.

------

yes. that's that, then. I hope you enjoyed! I'll definitely continue this is some way, still have to finish the drama I started between Lou and a (kind of?) OC with my name, ironically enough. Well I think he's cool. Just wait til he starts teaching the class ;)

Anyways, thanks for reading! I'll try to be more active on here now, no promises tho :)

<3

[shadowsfascination]

Shadamy Swordland | ch. 5 | Lead the Way!

It was still early and therefore dark on a cold February morning when a caped Shadow and a cloaked Amy silently prowled around the academy grounds. Crossing the main square once again to get to the outskirts of the district, a blanket of fresh snow softly crackled under their shoes. The snow covered the herringbone-laid brick on the streets and the lack of daylight gave the snow a blueish glow. It sure has something enchanting-, Amy though to herself.

Treading lightly in attempt to make as little noise as possible, Amy exhaled in her already cold hands. The warm vapor of her breath felt nice on them for a brief moment, but they quickly grew even colder than before. She always wore gloves, but the her usual ones were thin and she forgot to put on her winter gloves this morning. Even when she’d placed them on the table next to the door, that was.

Shadow wasn’t much affected  by the cold. He’d wrapped his scarf around her neck and provided her one of his sweaters as well before they’d hit the road. It wasn’t hard to captivate his scent like this and it reminded Amy of the time she had had a secret crush on her trainer. Before every training session she used to ‘accidentally’ put her coat over his on the coat rack. It provided her coat with his masculine scent and she would secretly dwell in it afterwards. Back in the days it’d felt bittersweet to her because he wasn’t interested in her and she believed of them to have neither future or potential together.

While walking in silence through the cold morning Amy wondered why they were walking in the first place. Now that she’d learnt about his special ‘chaos’ skills, he didn’t need to hide them any longer- from her that was. Shadow explained to her that using his special skills, like warping, cost a high amount of energy. With the gemstone Shadow liked to refer to as a ‘Chaos emerald’, believed to be far away from South Island, there already was little energy to begin with. The thought of wasting the precious energy for every little thing was to be unheard of to him and so they trothed onwards through the snow.

The pink hedgehog researched every bit of information available about the tale yesterday. With the help of her dear friend Miles she collected a remarkable amount of notes on the subject when she left the library. Amy felt inspired and was eager to start this adventure, especially when the actual hero of the story was involved right here, right now. Still, she felt a little uneasy because she felt like some of her notes were missing. A couple of lines got stuck in her head and she couldn’t remember whether they were something she read or written down. Her mind drifted off and she went through yesterday’s events one more time:

__________________________________________________________

“Plagues, Miles, loosen up!”

'Miles', which was Tails’ his actual name, handed his friend a paper towel to wipe her hands before diving into the historic tales together. According to Amy he took his duty of keeping the books in his library in the best condition possible way too serious. The fox had, uncharacteristic as it was, assertively told her: ‘my library, my rules’.

Amy did as she was asked and grasped a notebook from her bag. In a zealous way she penned down everything that seemed important for their search, making sure the lay-out of her notes looked like a summary for a test. She dug through the pile of books Tails had picked out for her. She chuckled when she saw the many small, coloured pieces of paper sticking out of their pages. She was lucky to have a friend like him, even when there actually was no test to prepare for.

Amy lost herself in the exciting facts she came to know. Tails busied himself with other things like speaking to visitors and organizing the books on the countless shelves. Aqueous sunlight shone through the tall, stained-glass windows, drawing long shadows every time someone passed by. The colours of the glass-paintings broke the light into more subtle beams. After an hour or so, Amy’s eyes grew tired from the pleasant warmth of the sun through the windows, slowing down her pace. She yawned and decided it was time for a break. Tails went out to the kitchen to make them some tea.

Amy wavered through the things she wrote down and contemplated about where to start searching for the gemstone. She fell back in her seat and fixed her gaze on the ceiling and was surprised to find wood-carved illustrations on some of the beams.

The guardians of the jewel are echidnas… she quietly muttered.

Amy walked up to a bookcase and started looking for the letter ‘E’ until she found an informative book about Echidnas. She grabbed the book rushed through its’ pages. A map of their planet, portrayed on the next page showed the various locations of well-known echidna populations throughout the planet. She read out loud:

“‘Echidnas can live anywhere from mountainous peaks to deserts… They are able to cope with extreme weather…’”

Suddenly the door was swung open and a blue tornado-like wind whirled through the library, swirling up loose pieces of paper to spread them all over the place. A thumping of footfalls on the wooden floor accompanied this outburst of chaos before coming to a stop and bumping into the table because ‘it’ reduced its’ speed too late. Amy’s quills were blown into her face and she hurried back to the table. Her notes fluttered around and a well-known blue hedgehog laid clumsily spread across the table; Sonic the Hedgehog.

Sonic was a student like her, training to become a knight within the high order of knights like Shadow. He was Blaze’s student, who was a close friend of hers. It was a shame the cat had so little time to hang out, Amy thought when thinking about her friend. Sonic and Amy got along fine, but didn’t talk that often.

“Whoops… Hi Amy!”

“My notes! Sonic… look at the mess you’ve made!”

She impatiently tapped her foot at him, her hands planted on her sides.

“What are you waiting for? Go help me gather them!”

He jumped up and hastily grasped some notes. Amy collected some as well and snatched the untidy pile of the now crinkled pages out of Sonic’s hands.

___________________________________________________________

Amy swallowed. Either Sonic or Tails could have found her missing pages.

Well, can’t do much about it now, so I gotta let it go.

She shrugged the thought off and stepped forward into much more white than she expected and gasped when ice cold snow dripped into her boots.

“Right on time.”

Rouge waved at the two she could barely believe got together. Shadow’s breastplate reflected the fierce light from the now upcoming sun. Rouge squinted her eyes and covered them with her hands. She was clothed in a thick robe, matching gloves and boots and a purple, turtleneck-like scarf was wrapped around her neck.

“Tone it down, will ya? I’m already not too fond of being out in the sunlight.”

“Tough luck. Now, shall we?”

He pointed to the east from where they were standing, to an entrance of a cave. The females nodded and the three of them footed their way to the foot of the mountain. Leaving the countless fir trees and the snow behind when entering the cave, Rouge couldn’t be more pleased. The climate in the cave was damp and warm, noticeably less cold than the outside air, much to her satisfaction. Amy used an easy sacred art spell to light the torch they brought and she stepped forward to lead the way.

“I’m not complaining or anything, but why are we in this place?”

“The tale says that the stone is guarded by the designated echidna family. Echidnas like to dig.”

Rouge was already halfway through the breath she’d drawn to protest when she sensed something that cut off her opposition. Even though Amy’s starting point was built on a hasty conclusion, she might be right, Rouge thought to herself. Casting a spell under her breath, Rouge attempted to draw out chaos affected spores in the air. They showed her the amount of present chaos energy in her surroundings. Even when there were none to be found yet, Shadow caught on to the increasing activity of her sacred arts.

“Trust me. I’ve done plenty of research and I’ve got a real good feeling about this.”

“It’s a little too early to trust you already, hun.”

“For starters: don’t call me that.”

In the blink of an eye Amy drew her rapier and with a swift, yet threatening move she swung it towards Rouge, forcing her to a stop. The bat blinked before lowering her eyelids. Amy found it hard to name that expression. All she knew was she didn’t care for it. She felt mocked in a way. A grin spread across Shadow’s muzzle, a hint of that mocking expression Rouge had playing his eyes.

“You don’t wanna mess with her, Rouge. Especially when she’s angry.”

“Second: I don’t think you have much of a choice but to trust us.” Amy said.

“Geez! Fine, I’ll drop the nickname if you insist.”

“I do. By the way, I’ve been wondering: how’d you two meet?”

Amy hid her rapier in its’ sheathe again. Shadow and Rouge shared a glance, the flickering light of the torch casting a warm glow on their skin.

“Go ahead, tell her. I couldn’t care less.”

“Rouge used to be a member of the high order of knights. We worked together for a period of time. She was fired though because of a rather unfortunate incident.”

“Hmph! Coward! ‘Unfortunate incident’?! You don’t even dare to call me a thief, do ya?”

“Trust me, when it comes to being blunt, you’re outmatched, but unlike you I don’t enjoy putting someone on the spot and talk trash.”

“Anyway…!”- Rouge snorted, ignored Shadow and increased the volume in her voice. “I endeavoured  to steal some beautiful regal gems, got caught and have been an outcast ever since.”

“Why did you do that?” Amy asked her.

“I was pregnant and in need of money.”

“You had your loan, right? That should’ve been more than enough.” Shadow said in a crude way.

Without anyone being aware of it they had stopped walking. Rouge turned towards Shadow with crossed arms.

“You’re such an oblivious fool, Shadow! No knight in the high order can have kids while serving. They would’ve fired me either way. I was about to become a mother without a job and a roof above my head. Desperate times call for desperate measures! And on top of that: those jewels were absolutely gorgeous! It’s a shame I didn’t get my hands on them.”

Shadow’s ears fell back, gaze fixed on the ground by now. Even when she didn’t see his eyes, she read his shock from his posture.

“You … didn’t know?”

“Correct. The board clearly left out the pregnancy part when they explained your departure. How despicable.”

“That doesn’t surprise me at all. Let’s forget about it already.”

“That’s no way to treat a lady!” Amy hissed.

“I never even noticed you were pregnant at the time.”

“Again: not surprised. The Shadow I knew was never the least bit interested in women or anything even slightly related to romance, sex or intimacy. That sure changed.” Rouge shifted her eyes to Amy, who smiled an awkward smile.

“I told you before: don’t interfere.”

“I’m not. Just saying it as it is.”

“And what’s that?”

“You’re in a relationship, for crying out loud! Believe you me, I’ve never had an interest in you like that. Though I couldn’t help but wonder who on the planet could ever manage to break down those sky high walls you’ve put up over the years. I haven’t seen you in ages, Shadow. To see this cute pink hedgehog beside you… I’m just surprised you know…”

Amy was unsure whether this was a compliment or if Rouge was belittling her, which was sure to be a mistake. She locked eyes with her lover, who simply shrugged and told her Rouge wasn’t wrong about her being cute.

“I have to admit I’m impressed, Amy. You even got him to defile his oath and break the rules he’s so hang up on to follow.”

“Let’s drop the subject and just keep walking, okay?” Shadow sneered.

While continuing their search, Amy asked about Rouge’s kids. Rouge unravelled they were twins; a boy and a girl who were at the age of 4 now. The bat seemed fine with her questions and so Amy asked everything she liked to know and didn’t hold back. The pregnancy had surprised the now mother of two at the time. Somehow the guy who knocked her up wasn’t around anymore and it was just her and her two little troublemakers, as she called them.

Gradually the atmosphere between the trio got a friendly note to it. Rouge even teased Shadow, setting him on edge by saying he didn’t need to worry about the kids being his. With aggravated frown and deadpanned expression he stated it was an unnecessary thing to say. He could feel her eyes bore into the back of his head and pictured the kind of grimace that surely curled her lips.

They hit a bifurcation from where the tunnel divided into two separate corridors. Rouge drew out the chaos spores in the air to determine which way to go. They looked like a turquoise equivalent of fireflies. They swirled around in the air for a moment and then concentrated on the left corridor. It was the first time Amy witnessed a visible form of chaos energy and she was mesmerised by it.

A self-complacent smile curved the full lips of the bat-woman when she passed by Amy, her curved hips swaying as she did so. She lead the way while following the swarm-like chaos spores. With every step they made into the corridor its’ amount increased like a silent promise they were on the right track. The trio, now filled with curiosity and excitement, picked up the pace and Rouge peeked around the corner. She abruptly came to a stop and gave a muffled cry.

“A dead end?!”

Rouge cursed out loud, addressing the spores like they were a person who’d betrayed her. The three looked up to the bolt of energy whizzing above their heads. Shadow tapped at his cheek with his index finger, clearly brooding over the possibilities.

“Maybe not.”

Shadow stretched out his arms and absorbed the chaos energy from the spores to grasp the hands of the others next. At their touch a blue-greenish luminary flash gushed through them, increasing both their transparency and transcendence. He briefly informed them about his plan to jump through the ceiling, letting their chaos-affected bodily forms break the molecular structure of the rocks apart. The two women strongly disagreed with his plan. Feeling rather confident about this, he decided not to care about their opinions. He simply grabbed one of their arms and jumped up.

“This should work!”

_________________________________________

Summary: Shadow, Amy and Rouge begin their search for the gemstone after Amy thoroughly prepares their adventure with the help of her dear friend Tails. While on the road, Rouge opens up about surprising events from her past. ______________________________ Pffft, this felt more like a puzzle than a story to me. Never have I dragged so many alineas up and down the page to fit everything into place. I also struggled with translations of figure of speach here. One of the downsides of writing in English for me... Even so, when I translated a small part of ch 1 into my native language, it felt both off and odd to me. Also: sorry about the lenght!   - Like always: share your thoughts if you will and send me a not for annoying typo's or grammar mishaps. I'd really appreciate it! <3 - I uploaded this and some other stories/oneshots on AO3 recently. Username's the same as always

@shadamyheadcanons : promised to keep you updated 

[clarabadger]

Meddling Siblings

Pairing: Oliver Wood x Reader Warning: Fluff, a pair of mischievous twins (huh, deja vu) Summary: Oliver’s older twin siblings are determined to get the two of you together. Chaos ensues. Word Count: 2478 words  Author’s Note: I’m so sorry this took so long! It was my exam week when I got this request and I’ve spent like three days on it. I hope it meets to your expectations! 

The spring sunlight filtred through the mahogany coloured curtains, it was the first day of Easter holidays and you were looking forward to spending a week with the Wood family. Oliver had asked you to come over and help him come up with some new strategies for the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw match in May. After exchaning some letters with your parents, they had agreed to your plans. The train whistled as it arrived at King's Cross Station. "Y/N look," Oliver called you to look out the window, he had spotted his parents amongst the thick crowd of families. "Thomas and Eleanor have come too." Thomas and Eleanor were Oliver's older twin siblings, and both had jobs working at the Ministry. "Do Ministry workers have Easter holidays?" "Dunno, maybe they just wanted to visit," Oliver shrugged, and swung his bag over his shoulder.

Thomas and Eleanor Wood had, in fact, not just wanted to visit. After catching wind of their younger brother's best friend coming to spend a week at their house, they had immediately filed for a week long holiday to conduct their master plan. They had met you when you were in your third year, and they in their sixth, after seeing you interact with their younger brother they knew that the two of you would be absolutely adorable together. Unfortunately the twins hadn't been able to bring the two of you together while they were attending Hogwarts, to many exams to prepare for and N.E.W.T's to study for.

This was the perfect chance to bring the two of you together, and to make you both confess your feelings for each other.

You were swallowed in Mrs Wood's hug the moment you stepped down onto the platform. "Y/N, it's wonderful to see you again dear," she affectionately pat your cheek, before giving her youngest son the same treatment. "Hello Y/N, haven't seen you since you were in your fourth year," Henry walked up to you innocently, taking your trunk in one hand and hugging you with his free arm. "You haven't changed much though," Eleanor teased as she ruffled your hair with her hand. "My baby brother still giving you headaches with his Quidditch obsession?" "It's not an obsession! It's dedication!" "Not really, I like coming up with strategies," you smiled, it was true, you'd do anything to help Gryffindor win the House Cup. It would show those emerald-robed Slytherin's that Gryffindor was actually the best house. Eleanor looped her arm in yours as she led you to the car, followed closely by Oliver and his parents, who were amicably speaking to their son about his school year. "Either way, I'm happy you've come to spend the holidays with us," Eleanor grinned, though there was something behind her smile that hinted to something other than joy, "it'll give us some time to catch up, though knowing Ollie, he'll keep you busy with his nonsense." "It's not nonsense! It's dedication!", came Oliver's indignant cry which was quickly shushed by his mother, who promptly began asking about his upcoming N.E.W.T's next year. "You work at the Ministry don't you?" you asked Eleanor, "Which department are you a part of again?" "I was thinking that if we have Angelina over here, it'll let her intercept the Quaffle from Alicia," you sipped on the strawberry milkshake Mrs. Wood had made earlier that evening. "When Cho finds the snitch and goes for it, have one of the Weasley twins send a bludger her way, make her lose sight of it and then Harry can go get it, 'course he needs to be careful too." Oliver was thankful that you were writing all of this down, he hadn't really been paying much attention. In fact, he was more preocupied with you, and the way your nose twitched as you took a sip of the milkshake, or the way you moved the pencil swiftly over your notebook to draw the strategy you had meant. While you were focused on the strategies that came to your mind, and Oliver found himself noticing every detail about you. The Wood twins were in the dining room, forging their plan to get their younger brother or his best friend to confess their feelings. It seemed that morning could not come any sooner.

Mrs. Wood whistled as she mixed the pancake batter with a wave of her wand. Mr. Wood was reading the Daily Prophet, as Eleanor mixed a spoonful of sugar in her tea and Thomas was rehearsing his lines in his head. You and Oliver sat down at the table as Mrs. Wood placed a plate of pancakes on the table. Oliver yawned as he ran his hand to smoothen out his bed hair, and Mr. Wood eagerly snatched up one of the thin, flat cakes. "So, Y/N," Mr. Wood swallowed the mouthful of pancake, "do you and Olver have anything planned for today?" "I don't think we do, we might finish the strategies," you sipped your tea, "maybe test them out if we have time." Eleanor gave Thomas a look. "Maybe later I can come and help you," Thomas grinned, "I'd hate for my darling younger brother to knock you off your broom and bruise such a pretty face." You felt your face go a bit warmer. "You won't have to worry about that," Oliver clenched his jaw, "and didn't you say you had a meeting with the Minister of Magic today?" Thomas coughed into his fist, slightly frightened by the steely look his younger brother gave him. "Yes, I do," he glanced over at the clock, "look at the time, I have to get ready." Eleanor pressed her palm gently against her face in frustration.

"What was that?" Eleanor confronted her twin, "that was the worst flirting I've ever seen." "It was your idea, maybe you should've done it," Thomas huffed, "and did you see the look Olly gave me? I've never seen him look so scary." Thomas shivered as he recalled the dark glare. "Well, at least I have plan B." Eleanor opened up her trunk and pulled a black potion vial out of it. "What is that?" Thomas asked, and noted the pearly sheen of the potion when Eleanor opened it so he could take a look. "Amortentia? Don't you think that a bit much, won't Y/N fall in love with you if you make them drink it?" "I'm not going to use it on them, just going to make them smell it." "And then what?" "See if they slip up when I ask them about what they're smelling," Eleanor smiled, "once Y/N says that the Amortentia smells like Olly, it'll get him to confess." "What if it doesn't work?" Eleanor frowned, "it will."

Eleanor spotted you and Oliver sitting on the couch, holding onto one of the strategy books you had brought with you. "Y/N, I need your help," Eleanor fakes a whiny tone to her voice. "With what?" "I brewed this potion for the department, but I don't know if I've done it right," she pouted. "How can you not? You're perfect at potion making!" Oliver said in disbelief, "Hush, little brother, I didn't ask you." "Well what potion is it?" Eleanor handed you the vial, "just smell it." You gave her an odd look, before popping open the top and taking a whiff. "What do you smell?" "Firewood, petrichor and..." you stopped, cheeks flushing red, "this is Amortentia isn't it?" "No! Well, yes, but what else do you smell?" "You've brewed it just fine El, don't know why you needed me to test it," you quickly passed the potion back to her, and buried your face into the book you had been reading. Eleanor muttered a curse under her breath.

Thomas hung up his coat as he returned from the meeting. He laughed as he found his sister muttering to herself on the sofa, "Didn't work did it?" "It almost did," she denied. "Well now what do we do?" "Now we put your divination skills to good use."

The following day, Thomas found you sitting on the porch holding a cup of tea between your palms and turning it right and left, following the movements of your head. "What are you doing?" "Divination homework," you sighed, marking off something in your notebook, "Trewlaney wants us to read our tea leaves for a week and analyse them." "Ah, Tessomancy, I was rather good when I was still at Hogwarts," Thomas sat next to you on the porch, "let me see." You handed him the tea cup, and he began looking at it intently. "Well, that's fun," he grinned, "What is?" "If I remember correctly, which I do," he leaned in playfully, "says here, that the person who has been on your mind recently returns your affections." He mentally did a victory dance as your face turned red. "Yeah, that is funny," you cleared your throat, "thank you Thomas, I'll make sure to write that down." "No problem, but maybe you should tell this special person how you feel?" "..."

"Didn't work, I don't think they're gonna tell Olly anything." "Bollocks." "They did say that they were going to start testing out their strategies tomorrow." Eleanor beamed, "I know just what to do."

"This isn't a good idea," Thomas whispered, "what if they get hurt?" "They won't, Olly will catch them," Eleanor pulled her wand out her pocket, "now shut up, before they hear you." The twins had taken refuge behind some bushes on the side of their house. You and Oliver were already in the air, testing out your chaser strategy. As you dived down for the Quaffle, Eleanor muttered a jinx to knock you off your broom. With a surprised yelp, your hand let go of the handle and you felt yourself pummelling towards the ground. "Y/N!" Oliver followed you on his broom and reached out his hand to grab the front of your shirt, slipping off his own broom and landing straight on top. "Sorry! You alright?" Oliver pushed himself up on his shoulder, and took in the sight of you below him. Hair messy from the fall and a flushed face at the position you two caught yourselves in. Oliver felt his heartbeat thrum in his ears, eyes following down to your slightly parted lips. Slowly, he leaned down. His hidden siblings held their breath from their hiding spots. And then... "Lunch is ready!" Mrs Wood popped out of the house, startling Oliver off of you. "Oh, was I interrupting something?" "No mum, Y/N just fell of their broom," Oliver brushed the dirt of his trousers and held out a hand to help you up. You walked back into the house with red cheeks and hearts threatening to burst of your ribs. The twins groaned and got up from behind the bushes. "What were the two of you doing there?" there mother spoke, a baffled look on her face. "Matchmaking!" "Oh, I see.”

"What about Fred and George?" "What about them?" Oliver gave you a confused look. "I mean, what if we get them to send a bludger Roger's way, block his usual path." "That could work." Suddenly the two of you were pushed to the side, and into the closet in the hallway. "Bloody hell!" Oliver helped as his back made contact with the wall. The closet doors swung shut, and he heard his brother muttering the locking charm. "Thomas! Let us out!" Oliver banged a fist on the locked door as you stared at it in shock. "No! Not until one of you says what needs to be said!" Pure silence filled the small closet and the hallways outside. "I don't hear anything!" Eleanor mocked in a sing-song voice. "El? You're there too?" you asked. Not receiving a reply. None of you spoke a word for the next minute. On the other side of the closet, the twins had their ears pressed up against the door, in case the two decided to start whispering. "What are you two doing?" Mrs Wood turned the corner. "We are getting either Olly or Y/N to confess," Thomas hushed to his mother, not wanting to his brother and their best friend to hear. Mrs Wood nodded and joined her children, pressing up her own ear against the door. The only sound that filled the closet were your and Oliver's slightly nervous breathing. Neither of you knew what to do. "Come on, just let us out please!" you had resorted to begging. "Please just let us out Tom," Oliver ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Oh for the love of Christ!" Thomas groaned, "Just bloody tell them Oliver!" "Tell me what?" you asked, quietly. Oliver cheeks flushed, and he looked down at his feet staring at them, and not uttering a single word. Oliver's family held their breaths on the other side of the door. Internally screaming at their youngest's inability to express his amorous affections for his best friend. Your eyes lit up in recognition, perhaps they wanted you to acknowledge how good your strategies were, Oliver had barely mentioned them in front of his siblings. "I don’t expect you to feel the same way-" you began. "Oh thank god." You froze. Your best friend froze, before his eyes widened. "Not as in oh thank god I hate that you love me! I mean thank god-" "Who said anything about love," you bristled. "I mean I love you!" You both froze all over again. Oliver pressed his hands against his face, groaning quietly. Before speaking: "You're the most brilliant person I've ever met," he said, "your Quidditch strategies are incredible, and you come up with the best ideas", he frowned as he heard his older siblings groan and what sounded suspiciously like his mother muttering under their breath. He took in a deep breath, "My mind used to be all about Quidditch and the team and winning the house cup. But then I met you, and now it's not all about Quidditch, it's about your face, and your voice and you in general, and when you're around I can barely think about anything else." Oliver looks at your face, eyes silently seeking yours in the dim closet. "Please say something," he begs. "I thought were going to talk about our Quidditch skills." you muttered dumbly. "Well," he gulped, "we didn't. Do you like me back?" You stepped forward, and leaned in, softly touching your lips against his before leaning back. "Does that answer your question?" Oliver grins, and kisses you again. "Did they do it? Did they confess?" "I have no idea what's going on in there." "Did you two charm the door locked?" You pressed your face against Oliver's neck as you heard the conversation outside the closet door. "We did!" Oliver calls out, "Snogged and everything, can you let us out now?" The sound of cheering was your only answer.

[valhallanrose]

Seven Devils

Astoria’s Cursebreaker arc picks up about five years after the events of Show Your Fangs, which you can find here along with the rest of their canon backstory. 

Major thank you to @apprenticealec​ for letting me borrow some of her pirates for the next few installments of Astoria’s journey. Sorry to Rodrigo (and especially Jacqui) for getting Astoria inflicted upon them in the process. 

Fic Title: Seven Devils by Florence + The Machine

2.1k. No CWs apply. 

It was supposed to be like any other transport. 

The sea and the sky were near perfect mirrors, as if the Fae’s Folly sailed on an ocean of stars that carried them toward the Sea Palace. It was a long journey, but one that its crew had made many times before, through the Frozen Sea and up into the Persephia when the Scourgelands were too perilous to cross by land. It was the preferred route to reach the western side of the continent, rather than risk the Strait of Sirens to the north, and they’d faced minimal skirmish on prior trips.

But the Folly was under contract, and a demanding one at that, meaning some had let their guard slip when the rare chance came to rest. 

It would be too late when they heard the pounding of drums over the sea, rousing the crew from slumber and drawing them out on the deck to investigate, then sending it into chaos as they tried to open the sails and escape the ship in their shadow. 

And then El Corazon Sangrante split the night with cannon fire. 

*     *     *     *     *

The Fae’s Folly wasn’t equipped for conflict, and surrender came quickly - about when the captain realized the winds would give them enough momentum to keep moving, but not necessarily to get out of range. So he chose, rather than risk the lives of his crew, to wave the metaphorical white flag. He’d been instructed by the harbormaster to preserve the vessel at all costs - the goods could be replaced, or at the very least they could recoup the losses, but a damaged ship was far more painful for a trading port’s business in the grand scheme. 

The captain had watched with tongue between his teeth as pirates boarded his ship, some remaining above deck to watch his crew while the others scattered across the ship to raid its cargo hold. One, a tall man with dark skin and equally dark hair, had asked him where his manifests were - information which he’d given, begrudgingly, when he eyed the hand settled on the pistol holstered at his hip. 

Another would board after a few moments - wearing, of all things, a spotted fur coat - at around the same time the previous man emerged from the captain’s quarters, flipping through sheafs of paper with maps tucked under his arm. 

“Jacqui, could this have been more underwhelming?” He almost pouted as he fluffed the collar of his coat, lifting a hand to keep his hat firmly planted on his head. 

“You’re the one who saw a ‘big ship’ and insisted that we see if it ‘had anything good’, Rodrigo.” The man, presumably Jacqui, made air quotes as he read without so much as looking up. “Which, no, it seems you picked a common cargo ship. No matter. Never hurts to resupply -”

He paused mid sentence, eyes fixed on a line on the manifest long enough to make the fur-coated man step closer and find what had caught his attention. 

- Personal gift from Baroness Canonach of Kintyre to Lady Chiara D’Oria.

Jacqui’s pistol came free of its holster as he strode across the deck, tucking the weapon beneath the captain of the Folly’s chin and giving him a stormy look. 

“Tell me something.” He said quietly, gold eyes dark as Rodrigo’s hand fell to rest neatly on the hilt of his blade beneath that fur coat. “What exactly are you delivering to the D’Orias?”

*     *     *     *     *

The sun beamed across Astoria’s face where they stood at Cliffs of Balgaire, wild breeze ruffling the hem of their coat around their knees and carrying the smell of salt up from where they lashed at the base of the cliffs far below. One leather-clad hand pushed their bangs back while the other held the pages of the letter firmly in hand, eyes flickering over the ink as time ticked by.

Sachairi Canonach, the cousin closest to them in age and next in line for the barony of Kintyre after Astoria themself, had called them back to Rosinmoor. After a long-winded bout of pleasantries, he’d asked them to come when their project in the Bulan mountains had ended for the season, and that they assist him in a personal favor. 

They agreed - on the condition they met near Mistwatch, for returning to the family estate meant dealing with their mother, and they wanted absolutely nothing to do with her for the time being.

So with the shadow of the ruined Canonach castle at their back, Astoria turned their face to the sun, closing their eyes to let the warmth seep into their skin. There were a few long, peaceful moments, where all they could hear was the roar of the sea and the call of the birds before a voice drew their focus back to the rest of the world.

“You know, I’m just glad we didn’t plan to meet in the castle. I know you agreed to meet me here, but this place has always given me the heebie jeebies. I’ll never understand why you loved it so much when we were kids.”

Astoria turned, smile lifting the corners of their lips as they stepped forward to meet his embrace halfway. 

“You’d hate me if I gave you the history lesson.” They teased, burying their face in the tartan draped across his shoulder and chuckling as he thumped them on the back a few times. 

“I probably would.” Sachairi leaned back, giving them a broad smile as his hands fell on their shoulders and gave them a squeeze. “You look well. How was the trip back? I’m assuming you took the Emerald Sea into the Strait of Seals, and then into Rosafearn?”

“Yeah, it’s probably the quickest route. Especially when my travel is funded by the clan, who apparently made it very clear to the quartermaster and the captain that the ‘heir to Kintyre was going to need efficient travel south’.” 

They gave him a displeased look, and Sachairi at least had the decency to look sheepish when they folded their arms across their chest. “I couldn’t decide if I wanted to stay up north or come here and skelp you myself for pulling that. You know I hate it when people throw their titles and names around to get their way, why would you make me out to be a hypocrite by doing the same?”

Sachairi’s hands lifted in a gesture of surrender as Astoria huffed, shoving their hands in their pockets and giving him something of a glowering look. 

“I know, I know, and I’m sorry, Astoria - but I promise you I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think it was necessary. I need your help with something a little time critical, but I couldn’t risk the letter getting intercepted on the way.”

“Well, start talking. Your personal favor is on thin ice for now.”

Wordlessly, Sachairi offered his arm, and Astoria tucked their hand neatly into the crook of his elbow before they began to walk the overgrown path that circled the walls of Mistwatch. They waited patiently for him to gather his words as they walked, the wind sweeping the hair away from both of their faces as he heaved a sigh. 

“A few weeks ago, the baroness ordered a small shipment of jewels and ore be sent to the Sea Palace - supposedly a sampling to attract business from the D’Oria family, but I digress. It left aboard the Fae’s Folly with a full load of cargo, the rest of the shipment made up of the standard goods, but when the Folly returned to port, the captain informed us the ship had been raided by pirates out in the Sea of Persephia.”

“And you don’t believe that.” 

“It’s not that I don’t believe it - the Folly’s been surveyed and definitely sustained an attack, but I’m not confident that it was a simple raid. The only things missing from the manifests were basic supplies any sailor would use, some regional maps of the Frozen Sea and the western Scourgelands, and the jewels. From what little knowledge of the family I have, I trust the D’Orias as far as I can throw them.”

Astoria let out a small snort at that, the sound swallowed by the wind as they tucked a few pieces of hair behind their ears. “If they’re friends of my mother, I’d be inclined to agree. So what’s my role in this, Sachairi?”

He slowed to a stop, turning to face Astoria with something of a serious expression on his face. His hands fell to rest on their shoulders, giving them a squeeze as he held their gaze, not even moving to brush curly hair out of his eyes when the wind blew them out of place.

“I want you to find out if the raiders were working on behalf of the D’Orias. Of all our family, I trust you most to both keep this off Senga’s radar for now, and to keep yourself safe in the process. If the jewels were stolen by true pirates, they can keep them, we have enough at our disposal to manage trade without them and I don’t want you in more danger than you have to be. But if they were stolen by the D’Orias or on their behalf, I want you to gather whatever evidence you can to prove it so that we can nip this relationship in the bud. The baroness won’t believe it unless I can put it on the table in front of her, so I don’t want to level any accusations without knowing exactly what I’m walking into.”

Astoria heaved a long breath, mulling over the proposition for a little while as they tugged on the beaded chain on their glasses. 

“You do realize that this is wildly out of my skill set.”

“On the contrary, I think it’s just within it.” Sachairi chuckled, reaching forward to push their glasses back up their nose. “Have you not made a life for yourself in the pursuit of knowledge and answers? Perhaps not in this manner, but I have faith that you’ll find a way to make it work. You’ve always been the most stubborn of all of us.”

They scoffed, folding their arms across their chest and giving him a sour look, but he only smiled and took a step back to give them space. A few moments of rustling in his satchel eventually turned up a neatly folded stack of papers, bound together with ribbon and stamped with the green wax crest of the Canonachs. Sachairi held it out, brow raised and trying to maintain a stoic face, but they could see the way his lips threatened to lift at the corners in a sort of knowing smile. 

“...fine. Fine, I’ll do it, but you owe me. And you have to answer to Myrna if I get hurt during this shit, because she’s not getting my hide for it.” They snatched the papers out of his hand, smacking him lightly on the wrist with them before popping the seal. Idly they flicked through them, brows pulling together as they read through the documents in hand. 

“You’ve already booked my passage? What would you have done if I refused?”

“Never crossed my mind.” The younger Canonach turned, beginning to pick his way down the path that would lead him eventually back to where he left his horse. “I can always take the hit from the cost if you decide not to go, we both know that the clan has more gold in its coffers than we could spend in all our lifetimes combined. But you’ve never been one to turn down the chance for something new, have you?”

They stood there for a long, long moment, eyes fixed on the point where he eventually disappeared over the hill and travel papers clasped tightly in hand. 

He wasn’t wrong, there. They’d spent the nearly five years since they’d been home traveling the world, only staying in one place for a few weeks at a time and diving straight into archaeological work that buried them up to their waist in busy work, but something like this? They couldn’t remember the last time the idea of a journey had inspired such a thrill in them, even if they didn’t want to admit it. 

They still loved their job, they had no doubts about that. It was monotonous sometimes, day in and day out in burial mounds and crypts or seemingly endless hikes to the middle of nowhere, but...was that really all they wanted from life? Was that really all they wanted to do, after fighting for some sense of freedom for so long?

With a sigh, they shoved the papers into the pocket inside their coat, turning to look back out over the broad blue sea to where it met the sky on the horizon. 

They supposed they’d just have to find out.

[alj4890]

Delicate

(Olivia Nevarkis x Ethan Ramsey) (Olivia Nevarkis x Drake Walker) in a Choices The Royal Romance/Open Heart Crossover crack series.

A/N The story continues with their first date. Ethan remembers a night where he was ready to admit that he was attracted to Olivia. And during another date, Olivia gets a surprise from Cordonia. 

@jooous​ @krsnlove​ @nomadics-stuff​  @twinkleallnight​ @motorcitymademadame​

Masterlist

Part 2

Bistro Du Midi, Boston...

Ethan couldn't recall the last time he enjoyed a meal more than he was this one with Olivia. Though they had shared a number of meals the last few months at the hospital, something about this one seemed, well, more.

He knew it had to be because he had been honest with her in what he wanted. And surprisingly, she wanted the same.

A chance to be together.

While she was relating a story from one of her adventures with her friends in Cordonia, he studied her closely. Her red hair was down, making he yearn to run his fingers through it. Her emerald eyes lacked the suspicious edge he had witnessed directed at people she didn't know well. He loved that he had watched it slowly fade with each coffee date they had.

They were dates, he thought to himself. I didn't want to admit it to myself, but I went from using them to find out her true mission for the hospital to wanting to discover everything I could about her. Be near her. Have her undivided attention.

He prided himself on not simply falling for a pretty face.

Olivia is gorgeous.

He required more from people, like intelligence and steadfastness.

She is as sharp as those daggers she always has on her. Her ability to understand the complexities of not only medicine but also the trials I face both personally and professionally have left me astounded. For an outsider to step up and face my personal demons head on, without flinching, without wavering...how did I not notice it sooner?

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

The Royal Palace, Cordonia...

Drake paused on the way to his chambers when he overheard Riley say Olivia's name.

"Hana said that Olivia is wearing one of the dresses for her date tonight."

"So the suspicions you all have had are true?" Drake could hear the teasing in Liam's tone. "She and Dr. Ramsey have fallen for one another?"

"Working together allowed them to discover that there are some sparks worth exploring." Riley giggled. "I can't wait to meet him."

"If Olivia agreed to a date then it must be serious." Liam mused. "She wouldn't risk losing him to head the research hospital."

"You're right!" Riley exclaimed. "I thought Hana was joking about drawing up possible wedding gowns for Liv. No wonder she is looking ahead."

Drake staggered back.

This is why Maxwell suggested I go to Boston. He must have overheard Riley and Hana's conversation.

He headed to his room. He had some decisions to make.

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

Boston Opera House...

"Interesting choice." Olivia whispered as she read the title Turnadot on the program.

Ethan chuckled as he settled his arm along the back of her chair. "I thought you might think so."

She shook her head as a smile played about her lips. "I hope you aren't about to say that I'm anything like Turnadot."

"A cold woman who enjoys making men suffer with riddles, torture, and death until finally the right man comes along?" He winked at her. "Not at all."

She laughed softly, enjoying the lightheartedness she felt around him.

His fingers brushed her shoulder as he toyed with a lock of her hair. He found his attention couldn't remain on the opera. Seeing the contentment on his date's face held him captivated.

Ethan thought of the other times he had been unable to focus on anything other than her. There had been a few where her guard had dropped and he had seen a new side of the fiery duchess. One night in particular had caused him to realize his feelings for her had changed.

And he knew that it must have for her too...

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

Two months ago, Edenbrook...

Olivia Nevarkis, report to the E.R. immediately.

"What on earth?" Olivia paused mid step on her way out of the lobby.

Why is someone paging me to the emergency room?

After two months at Edenbrook, she had learned every shortcut and exit.

Getting to the E. R. Was not a problem. Being called there like a member of the medical staff was the real mystery.

She scanned her I.D. and paused at the pandemonium that had erupted.

Her eyes immediately found Ethan at the center of the chaos as he gave orders to the ones working the graveyard shift.

She had never seen him in this type of situation before. Most of their time was spent walking down hallways or sitting in his office discussing aspects that she should present to Liam and the council with building a research hospital.

This was eye opening.

He's...he's impressive.

His blue eyes settled on her.

"Olivia, follow me." He ordered.

She quirked an eyebrow at not only his command but that he didn't bother checking to see if she was following him.

If she didn't know better, she would mistake him for a noble.

She hurried to catch up to him.

"What's happened?" She asked.

"There was a wreck on I-95." He explained. "Multiple cars involved."

Her brow furrowed with concern at the thought of using her nursing skills. "Are you shorthanded? Is that why you paged me?"

"In a way." He paused outside of a closed off section of the E. R. "I need you to sit with a child around five or six years old."

"What?" She blinked in surprise.

"Her parents were severely injured." He lowered his voice. "Both are in emergency surgery as we speak."

Olivia swallowed, averting her eyes. "I--I don't really have that much experience dealing--"

"Look around, Olivia." He motioned with his hand. "There is no one else right now."

She briefly closed her eyes. "Very well. Is she hurt?"

There was a  warm look of approval in his eyes that sent an unexpected fluttering in her stomach.

"Broken arm." He replied.

Olivia opened the door and preceded him.

She felt a jolt of déjà vu.

There sitting on the bed was a little girl with red hair.

Tears were running down her cheeks as she looked up at them.

"Kylie, this is Olivia." Ethan's deep voice was warm and friendly. "She is going to sit with you until your grandparents get here."

"What about Mommy and Daddy?" She sniffed.

"They are being taken care of." He told her. "In fact, I'm going to go see how they are and come back here to tell you." He lifted her arm that had a purple cast around it. "I'll make sure and tell your mom you picked her favorite color."

Olivia quietly observed as he helped calm the little girl down. He even caused her to giggle when he handed her a stuffed bear he had bought at the gift shop.

If only I had had someone like him when my parents died. To be given that kind of comfort during such uncertainty...

But Kylie's parents weren't dead. Nor were they traitors to their country, Olivia thought grimly.

Ethan turned to leave, pausing once more to look at the duchess.

"Olivia?"

She lifted her eyes to his.

He studied her quietly and gave a brief smile. "I'll be back."

Once the door shut, Olivia sat down in a chair by the bed.

Not knowing what to say, she hoped Kylie would rest or speak first.

"You have pretty hair." The little girl said.

Olivia reached up self consciously to smooth her hair. "Thank you." Her lips curved in a smile. "So do you."

"My daddy has red hair too." Kylie told her. "But he says his isn't pretty like mine."

Olivia nodded, unsure if she should agree or not.

"Does your daddy have red hair?" Kylie asked.

"No." Olivia grimaced at her harsh tone. Why her parents still brought this out in her irked her to no end. "He had brown hair."

"Oh." Kylie tilted her head. "Does your mommy have red hair?"

"Yes." Olivia lowered her eyes. "I used to love to brush it for her."

"I do too!" Kylie beamed at her. "But mine has yellow hair."

Olivia's forced smile disappeared when Kylie began to softly cry again.

"I wish mommy was here."

The duchess quickly rose to her feet unsure how to quiet these tears.

"Is there anything I can get you?" Olivia looked about the stark room. "Something to drink or--"

"I want my mommy." Kylie wailed, rubbing her eyes with her good arm.

Olivia sat down on the bed, intending to pat her back in sympathy.

Kylie instead crawled into her lap and nestled her head under Olivia's chin.

Momentarily shocked by this, the duchess lifted her arms a few times before gently hugging the little girl.

She spoke softly to her, reassuring her that her mother wanted to be here just as much.

She smoothed the red locks of hair off the damp cheeks, and rested her own cheek against the little head.

This type of pain she was well acquainted with. How often had she cried that very sentence into the darkness of her bedroom in Lythikos, just to have it unanswered?

Olivia silently prayed that this little girl would not suffer a similar fate. 

Something within her seemed to soften, almost break. It was as if that part of her heart that she had smothered through years of hardness cracked anew with each little tremble of the child in her arms.

Tears pricked her eyes when Kylie snuggled closer. The need to be held was something Olivia had tried to ignore most of her life. Holding this scared, tiny girl brought that feeling back, nearly causing her to cry out with her own anguish.

Ethan paused at the window on his way back in the room. His hard gaze softened at the sight of the fiery tempered duchess holding a sick child as if she was somehow dear to her.

He had suspected that she might have a tender side. He had caught glimpses of it throughout her stay. But tonight, he was able to witness it in full form. He especially noticed them whenever it was just the two of them, usually when their conversations turned from the hospital to more personal memories.

The few brief remarks followed by the stark despair in her eyes each time parents were mentioned had led him to believe she had not had a happy childhood. If it was anything like his own, then Olivia was a remarkable woman.

His own heart twinge at the thought of being abandoned by his mother. For years he had ignored it, repeating to himself that he had not needed her. Was he not one of the most sought after diagnosticians in the world?

Everything he had accomplished he had done without a mother or the need of one. His hardened heart had kept him focused. Driven. He prided himself by not feeling emotions that he considered a weakness in his line of work.

But something about the sight of Olivia holding Kylie touched his numb heart. It wasn't so much the sweetness of the moment, but rather that long ago despair being awakened. It was almost as if he had found someone who could truly understand his anger and hurt he had kept buried all these years.

"Excuse us. Are you Dr. Ramsey?"

He turned toward an older couple. "Yes."

"We were called about our daughter and family being in a car wreck." The man said.

Ethan quickly explained the injuries of the family of three. He reassured them that it looked well for their daughter and son-in-law.

"They are both in recovery." He told them. "Their surgeons were pleased with how everything went."

"And our granddaughter?" The woman asked.

He opened the door for them. "Right in here."

"Kylie!" Her grandmother wiped her eyes, smiling as the little girl held her arms out to her.

Olivia set her back on her bed, and silently made her escape.

Ethan excused himself, promising to keep them updated, and chased after the duchess.

He caught up with her when she stepped outside.

"Olivia?" He reached out and touched her back in concern.

She was struggling to take deep breaths.

"What is it--" his arms closed around her when she pulled him close.

Her head rested on his chest, eyes shut tight, as she tried to calm down.

His arms tightened around her when hers slid around his waist.

Neither was sure how long they stood like that. Not a word was spoken as they gave each other the comfort they so often denied themselves through the years.

There was something different about being held in Ethan's arms compared to the few times Drake had briefly embraced her. Perhaps it was simply that this wasn't occurring doing the heat of passion like her former lover's had been. Something though about this felt more intimate than all those other times before.

Eventually, Olivia stepped back. Her reluctance wasn’t lost on Ethan. He let his hands move to grasp hers, keeping her near.

"I'm...sorry." She lowered her eyes from his perceptive blue ones. "I don't know what came over me."

"No need to apologize." He squeezed her hands. "I..." He swallowed and looked down. "I needed a moment like that too."

Her head jerked up, eyes searching his face for any sign that he was merely saying that to make her feel less foolish. When she saw nothing but his own vulnerability at being caught needing a hug too, she relaxed.

He cleared his throat. "It's late. Why don't you let me drive you home?"

"Thank you." She noticed that neither of them was willing to let go of the other.

Ethan forced his fingers to slip away from hers. "I'll meet you in the lobby."

She watched him walk towards a set of elevators. His confident stride seemed less so as he turned to look at her once more.

For some reason, she felt like he needed her to give him some form of encouragement. Her lips curved somewhat into a half smile.

His own flashed before he disappeared in the elevator.

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

Ethan knew in that moment that he was ready to admit at least to himself that he was falling for Olivia. He had been reluctant to suggest a date, but all that changed when he noticed that she seemed happier whenever he invited her out for coffee or lunch. Her smile came more easily. Her eyes had that sparkle that made it hard to look away. 

She had made him excited at taking a chance to see where this could go.

Now he intended that this date was the first of many nights spent together.

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

Olivia’s heart raced when they finally were at her apartment. Clearing her throat, she invited him inside.

There was nothing Ethan wanted more than to spend the night with her. But he wanted to do this right. He thought she deserved everything, including himself, at its best.

“I intend on taking things between us as they should be.” He pulled her close. “You have no idea how hard it is to not step inside and...” His lips captured hers in a heated kiss.

Olivia felt herself melting against him. Each brush of his tongue, the soft feel of his lips contrasted by the prickly sensation of his stubble, all of it was a heady mixture that made her desire more. She wanted all that he placed before her: a true romantic relationship.

He groaned when her hands moved up his chest as their lips crashed together for another kiss.

He lifted his head, softly smiling at the smile forming on her slightly swollen lips.  “Why don’t we plan on spending the weekend together?”

“I’d like that.” She gently caressed his cheek. 

“So would I.” He kissed her once more swearing to himself that this would be as far as he could push his restraint. 

“We’ll talk tomorrow.” He added as he let his arms slide away from her.

She nodded, feeling a bit dazed by the emotions she felt from his words and touch.

They parted, each surprisingly happier than they had been before.

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

The following weekend...

“...and that was how Thomas knew I was the one.” Amanda finished, laughing at the soft groan coming from her husband. “You know it’s true.”

“Not even close.” He wrapped his arm around her. “And you know that’s true.”

Olivia rolled her eyes to hide how pleased she was to see one of her closest friends with someone who adored her. She settled next to Ethan after offering refills of wine. She felt a brief burst of delight when he draped his arm along the back of the loveseat. His fingers toyed with her red hair before dropping to her shoulder. She felt her cheeks heat up at finally finding a man not afraid to show her affection in front of others.

Something about this felt so foreign and yet at the same time, it felt right. This was a whole new experience, one she thought she could easily get used to.

The two couples had enjoyed dinner at Olivia’s apartment. Though Ethan was familiar with Amanda during her sporadic visits to assist Olivia in her preparing to move forward with the research hospital, this was the first time he had met her husband. Uncertain what type of man the famous director would be, he found a somewhat kindred spirit in the gruff man. Like Ethan, he had little patience for foolish people. He seemed to prefer avoiding large crowds and such. And just like the doctor, he seemed most content with a particular Cordonian lady.

“I still say we go sailing.” Olivia added when suggestions for the next day were bandied about. “It’s been ages since I have had a chance to get out on the water.”

“I haven’t been in a while either.” Ethan added.

“I wouldn’t mind relaxing among the waves.” Thomas remarked.

“I guess this means we’re going sailing.” Amanda teased.

“Good, I knew  I would wear you all down.” Olivia smirked as they all chuckled.

Right when she got up to get dessert, her door was knocked on.

Her brow furrowed as she went to answer it. 

Seeing the last two people she would ever expect to visit her in Boston caused her to lose all ability to speak.

Her lips parted, yet not a sound came out.

Maxwell nudged Drake.

Clearing his throat, he slowly smiled at her.

“Hey Liv. It’s been a long time.”

[florvinhara]

you come around, i come undone

a holiday gift for @brightningstar, leader of the angst du mortain appreciation squad! you are such a positive and uplifting presence and writing for Elizabeth was so fun; i hope you enjoy!~

The mission objective was clear. Locate the kelpies, mark off the sections of the river they were occupying, place the magical wards to keep them from getting too close to the town, and “do not engage”, as Adam had said at least five times during the briefing. (He likely would have kept going, too, if Farah hadn’t started repeating it after him in, actually, a pretty good approximation of his voice.) It was a clear-cut plan, simple. 

Of course, ‘simple’ was a word that had gotten smaller and smaller the more entangled in this expanded world of vampires and magic and high-demand blood mutations she became. And the Trappers essentially inviting every money-hungry opportunist in the country to come after her didn’t help. But still, even in the grand scheme of things, this should have been straightforward. 

Should have been, Elizabeth thinks mournfully, wringing out her tangled hair. Instead, the kelpies had decided to charge them, powerful teeth snapping as they attempted to drag her and Farah into the deeps. At that point, they probably should have run for the hills, but the mission- if the kelpies had made it to Wayhaven, people might have gotten hurt. 

So they had persisted, and gotten a lengthy dip in the freezing water for their efforts. The wards are all in place now, at least, so they won’t have to come back here any time soon, which is some comfort.

Although they hadn’t all made it out; further down the riverbank, Farah is lamenting the loss of her phone, peering into the roiling waters as if she could even still see it down there, much less reach it. “My games… my selfies,” she groans, shaking her head sadly and walking further down the bend to follow the current, still searching. 

Elizabeth sighs, giving up the attempt at shaking the water from her hair. She can just dry it once they get back to the Warehouse, but before that happens, they’ll need to meet up with the rest of the team. Which means… 

The sound of leaves and twigs crackling underfoot is her only warning before Adam storms purposefully into the space beyond the treeline, eyes scanning until they meet hers. Relief softens his icy glare for a moment before his expression turns to anger, and the familiar feeling of butterflies in her stomach she gets every time their eyes meet sinks nervously as Adam becomes Commanding Agent du Mortain, fierce and unyielding, six feet and 900 years of experience and power staring her down. Uh oh.

“What were you doing?” he growls, furious, stepping into the outer orbit of her space.

Elizabeth readies herself for the ensuing argument, brewing like a storm. “Um, my job? The mission?” she asks, hoping some humor might help to defuse the situation.

Apparently not. “The mission was to be completed from a safe distance,” he says, sharp, steely. “You should have retreated the instant it became hostile! What were you thinking-” His voice is rising now, fueled by anger and something softer but no less intense at this moment. 

“I was thinking that if we hadn’t finished this, people might be in danger!” she retorts, crossing her arms stubbornly. Sure, things hadn’t gone exactly according to plan, but they had done their job, and she was not going to apologize for that.

Adam stalks closer to her, eyes blazing like an aurora. “You were the one in danger! You cannot be so reckless with your safety!”

“Would you have retreated?” she shoots back. “Would you have run off and abandoned a mission at the first sight of trouble?”

“That- No-” he admits, but she interrupts before he can finish.

“Then why, Adam?” she asks, stepping forward in challenge. “Why are you angry with me for doing exactly what you would have done?” His eyes widen fractionally, flickering between them, and-

When did they get so close? Her heartbeat seems louder now, echoing in her ears in half anger, half apprehension as she takes in their position. “Tell me,” she says, softer now, no longer really talking about the mission at all. “Please.”

“I-” and now he seems lost for words, any train of thought he’d been following derailed at the sudden realization of her proximity.

She shakes her head, turning away from him. Even though she’s come to expect this from him, the alluring pull as he almost- almost! lets her in, and the subsequent harsh push as he closes down, it still stings. “That’s what I thought,” she says, frustration raking through her voice. 

“Detective-” he starts, but she cuts him off.

“You can save the rest of your lecture, I’m going back to the Warehouse.” She shoves her way past him and starts storming back towards the treeline, but she’s abruptly stopped by his hand reaching out to close around her wrist. The sudden hold pulls her back, and she stumbles a little as she spins around to face him, entering the outer bounds of his space.

The grip is loose enough that she could easily withdraw her arm if she wanted, and he looks like he half-expects her to, eyes scanning over her face carefully to make sure the touch is not unwelcome. And really, even if she did want to move away, how could she, pinned by the intent in his emerald stare, heavy with words unspoken?

His gaze moves, dropping to her lips, still parted from her last retort. He does not look away. A magnetic force seems to draw them together, tugging them nearer as the rest of the forest falls away until the only thing she can see is him.

Still frazzled from the chaos and adrenaline of the mission and the fight, her mind takes in pieces of the scene before her, jumbled images and sensations forming the whole one moment at a time, marked only by the irregular hammering of her heart against her ribcage.

Thump. The piercing stare of his gaze, bright green and weighted. 

Thump. The press of his hand against her wrist, sturdy palm and strong tendons careful but firm, holding her in place.

Thump. His breathing, uneven, warm against the chill of her skin, as they watch each other, waiting to see who will move next. 

They’re close enough now that their bodies are almost flush, each inhale, every exhale bringing them further into the other’s orbit. Almost dizzily, she notices the heat radiating from him, a halo of warmth breaking through the cold river water soaking her clothes. This is uncharted territory; the air between them feels charged, crackling with the nervous anticipation of two people on the verge of bringing to light everything they’ve been concealing between them. 

Less than an inch of space remains between them; she can almost feel the press of his mouth against hers, imminent, his breath ghosting over her lips in an imitation of what might come next, if either of them dare to risk closing the distance. As if in slow-motion, the hand not holding her wrist moves up, cautious, fingertips grazing her cheekbone before settling against her face. His head dips nearer, as she rises up to meet him. Closer, closer, almost, and finally-

Farah dashes back into the clearing, soaking wet and triumphantly holding up her waterlogged phone. “Look, I found my- ohhhh!” she skids to a halt, eyes glittering as she takes in the scene before her. Adam stumbles back quickly, dropping his hands to his sides and looking around the trees- whether for an escape or for the rest of the team emerging from the forest, it’s unclear. “Were you fighting? Were you kissing? Did I miss it?” she gasps, clutching the phone to her chest excitedly.

Adam splutters furiously as Elizabeth feels her face flush. “Farah!” she protests weakly, still half-caught in the all-consuming feeling of Adam being so close. 

Mischief and delight dance together in Farah’s golden eyes. “Well, don’t let me get in your way,” she smirks, walking backwards in the direction of the treeline. “Keep on doing whatever you’re doing, I’ll just be minding my business over here.” Clearly, she will not be doing anything of the sort, all but cackling with glee as she vanishes from sight among the dense woods. 

Elizabeth glances at Adam shyly; their eyes meet and, suddenly overcome with nerves, she quickly looks away at the same time he does, matching blushes staining their faces. Whatever electricity had been sparking between them has dissipated, replaced with a heavy, static awkwardness that settles over them like an uncomfortable blanket. And yet echoes of the interrupted moment hang around the space in the echo of his touch around her wrist, on her skin; the lingering warmth his close proximity had given her still encircles her gently. 

Adam coughs, eyes jumping around the clearing as if searching for a place to look. Apparently finding nothing, he turns his gaze on her again, then hastily averts it again. “I- we should-” It’s uncharacteristic of him to be so unsure, floundering over his words and it seems to shock him into silence for a moment before he groans in frustration and starts stomping his way to the forest, only lingering for a moment at the edge of the treeline to check that she’s following.

As Elizabeth starts walking back to the Warehouse after him, she can’t help but feel that something has shifted, and whatever has been going on between them cannot remain hidden for much longer.

[shotsbyshae]

Power Over Me

Prompt:  “Wait, I’m confused.  Are you the villain?”

Warnings: 18+ Smut, Angst

Words: 7k

Pairing: Loki x Witch!Reader

Summary:  Loki has the Tesseract and can literally go anywhere he wants, so why does he keep getting drawn back to the broken little witch Steve Rogers abandoned? You saved him once, although you’re not aware of it, maybe he can return the favor.

A/N: This is for @sherrybaby14 Fall Into You Challenge. Little drabble turned into more.

I wanna be king in your story, 

I wanna know who you are.

New York, 2012

“Join me,” the words are dripping with malice and the Cheshire Cat grin on his face unsettles you as he grips the front of your suit tighter with one hand, pulling you closer to him.

Standing your ground, you stare down the god, whose face is so close his nose almost brushes against yours. You can see the beads of sweat trailing along his temples, “Not a chance.”

“Such a waste,” he gives a shake of his head before he releases his grip on you, shoving his palm into your chest, pushing you off the ledge of the building. Loki turns from the ledge and starts to walk back into the interior of Stark Tower when the familiar sound of Stark’s suit has him glance back over his shoulder.

“Leave some of him for the rest of us,” Tony orders, dropping you back on your feet before flying off after a rogue Chitauri.

“Did you change your mind?” The sarcasm in his voice is short lived as you fling him back, sending him tumbling down the steps in front of the stocked bar with just a flick of your wrist. He pushes up from the floor, leaning back against the bar, a look of intrigue on his features as he watches you.

You’re down the stairs and on him – straddling him – your hips pinning him to the tile floor. Your mind can barely catch up with your basic survival instincts, as your hand wraps around his neck, squeezing tightly, while shoving him against the bar.

“That’s it,” Loki’s enjoying this, his words vicious, “own the darkness.” You hesitate, jaw clenching and he prods, “What’s the matter, little witch? Not strong enough?”

Raising your free hand, you begin to move your fingers delicately as the man’s mouth opens against his will and his life force flows from his lips in blue waves. You unclench your jaw – after all, you've never tasted a god before. The power within him is unlike anything you've ever consumed, as an icy chill spreads throughout your body – clashing with the fire in your veins – the chaos is euphoric. With a malicious grin, Loki opens his mouth wider for you, seeing the pure ecstasy spread across your features as a darkness flashes in your eyes before you shut them tightly.

You don’t feel the large arm slip around your waist, only the swift movement as Thor jerks you away from his brother, “Loki, enough!”

“You were always no fun brother,” the trickster’s words echo as you blink rapidly, trying to bring your surroundings back into focus.

Glancing at Thor’s massive hand on your shoulder, you wonder if he’s always been this large – he’s a giant compared to you.

“Hey,” the words sound far off, but another set of strong hands are on your face. “Look at me.” Your head is being tilted upward and Steve’s blue eyes are bearing down on your, full of concern, “Are you okay?”

The sheer bliss you were experiencing is now subsiding and your breathing quickens as realization hits you, “Yea, I’m sorry.” Clinging to his arm for support, you glance from Loki back up to Steve, “He threw me off the building – I lost control.”

Rogers pulls you into his side protectively as he lightly kisses your temple, speaking softly, “It’s okay.”

The interaction between the two of you repulses Loki and he rolls his eyes as Thor grabs his arm, jerking him to his feet.

2023

He hadn’t planned on ending up in this year, much less in this city, but once he had, his first thoughts were of you. After obtaining the Tesseract, Loki had followed his own timeline, to see where his future would lead and saw the man he would become. He had managed to go from the villain, to standing alongside his brother to fight Hela and save the people of Asgard, only to die at the hands of Thanos, never giving him the chance to tell you that you had played a part in that transformation. He had tried to kill you once, then you had become a friend, but in truth all Loki really wanted was for you to look at him with the same adoration you had shown for Steve Rogers. You were an extraordinary witch, gifted with dark magic, but you didn’t let it consume you, which he found fascinating. Maybe that’s part of whatever it is that keeps drawing him back to you.  

The place is the epitome of dive bars and under any other circumstance, he wouldn’t be caught dead near an establishment such as this, yet he finds himself here more and more frequently because this is your hunting grounds. He always sits in the darkest corner of the bar, watching you dance with a stranger – some nights it’s men, others it’s women – grinding your hips against theirs to the music, a half-empty high ball glass in one hand. Your eye make-up always darker than you used to wear it and he wonders what you’re trying to hide – sadness. You’ve always been so strong, but now, he hardly recognizes the woman before him, because now, you’re broken. Your righteous Captain America is gone - abandoned you for another.

He watches as your other hand pulls the stranger’s face to yours, and no one else notices the waves of blue coursing from the man’s mouth as you suck at his life force. You never take enough for your victim to notice, just enough for you to get a rush. He is amazed with your self-control, but slightly disturbed, the version of you he’s seen never uses dark magic. Under any other circumstance, this would be of no concern to Loki, but he is aware of the toll dark magic can have on a witch’s soul. At one time it was your darkness that drew him in, but now he’s seen the future, and it’s your light he admires the most. He’ll be damned if he’s going to sit idly by and watch you diminish it because of some stupid mortal.

***

As soon as you open the door to your apartment, you get the overwhelming sensation that you are not alone. It’s pitch black inside and you know you left the lamp in the hallway on. You close the door behind you carefully before reaching for the light switch. As you flip the switch, you spin quickly, shoving the man behind you against the wall, holding the blade of your dagger against his throat.

“Easy, little witch,” Loki holds his hands up defenseless, glancing at the dagger. “Did I teach you that?”

You look at him curiously, knowing this isn’t the same man you saw last, “Not this version of you. When are you from?”

“Hard to say,” he replies. “We only recently met in my timeline.”

You take a step back, keeping the blade pointed at him, “Great, so the dick version?” He gives a slow smile as you continue, “What do you want?”

“To see how you are.”

You furrow your brow in disbelief, “You tried to kill me.”

“True,” Loki responds, adjusting the jacket of his suit, “but, I’ve seen the future version of us, and we were dare I say – friends – before my untimely death.”

You look him up and down closely before responding coldly, “Well, you’re not him.”

“And you’re not her either,” he retorts, causing you to clench your jaw. “The version of you I saw would never use dark magic so frivolously.”

“You should leave,” you turn, walking away.

He begins following along behind you, “I can imagine what that must feel like, being abandoned by everyone you love.”

His words are like a knife in your heart, but the worst part is, he’s right. You’ve been living with this pain for the last few months. First with Natasha and Tony’s sacrifice, then with Steve choosing to go live with her after everything the two of you had been through, and Thor couldn’t even stay on the same fucking planet as you.

“The pain you must feel…” he sympathizes, “I’m not here to judge for how you are dealing with that.”

“What do you want then Loki?” You fight the lump rising in your throat, grabbing the edge of your kitchen counter to steady yourself.

“Nothing,” his tone is slightly colder than before, “but I do have a proposition for you.”

You close your eyes as the trickster moves to lean against the counter across from you. A proposition, you think to yourself, of course. Loki had tried to recruit you during his attack on New York because of your abilities and when you refused, he threw you off a building. He’s only ever been fascinated with your powers, even when the two of you were friends, there was an underlying sense of dread that at any time he might stab you in the back.

“I’m not interested in another one of your propositions,” you flick your eyes up at him.

“Not like that,” he says sincerely, “I’m offering you – an escape – albeit, healthier than your current one. I won’t ask you to use your powers – ever.”

Your eyes narrow at him curiously, “What kind of escape?”

“Come travel with me.”

You look at him in disbelief as you try to gauge the situation, seeing the seriousness in his face, “What? Where would we travel?”

The corners of his mouth turn up in a mischievous smile and for a second you swear his eyes flash a little brighter blue, “Wherever – whenever – you want my dear.”

Los Angeles, 1981

Loki adjusts the black leather jacket he’s wearing over an emerald green pocket tee. He abhors the ripped denim jeans you insisted he wear, but you were the expert on mortal fashion, so he had agreed.

You’re wearing a red and black plaid skirt with fishnet stockings and a black tank top layered with a denim jacket. Your hair is teased, and your make-up is still dark, but there’s a smile on your lips as you stare over the balcony, watching the fight break out on the floor below the two of you. The joy on your face is an improvement from how he’d found you.

“All of time and space,” Loki leans close, and his breath on your ear sends an unwelcomed shiver down your spine, “and you choose this.”

You don’t look away from the bar brawl below as you speak to the man beside you, “This was the very first concert Motley Crue played together. This is a historic moment.”

The trickster rolls his eyes before leaning against the rail beside you, not impressed with your choice. Below, the fighting has broken up and the band is setting back up to continue with their set. You glance over at the completely uninterested look on Loki’s face as he stares down at the men moving around below you.

A small laugh escapes your lips and it surprises you. It feels like forever since you’ve had a reason to smile, much less laugh, and the sound is foreign to you, “You really hate this, don’t you?”

Loki cuts his eyes over to you, “Whatever makes you happy my dear.”

“Why the concern with my happiness?” You prop your elbow on the rail, resting your chin on the heel of your hand, your fingers curled against your lips.

“I’ve seen what you've done,” the response is slow, “for everyone else on your so-called team. You shouldn’t be having to resort to what you were doing to get away from the pain.”

You glance back down as the band starts to play, knowing his words are true. You weren’t proud of how you’d been dealing with your grief. Feeding on someone’s life force was the only way to numb the pain, it was an ecstasy rush unlike anything you’d ever felt before. You only wished mortals gave you the same sense of euphoria the god beside you had given, but you quickly push that thought out of your mind. The only issue was everytime you used dark magic, it felt as if it left a tiny mark on your soul and you often wondered how many marks were too many?

“I could help you,” Loki’s voice is soft, genuine, almost, “if you ever want to forget. I could do that for you.”

You shake your head quickly, bringing your eyes back to meet his, “No, thank you though.”

Later, Loki grabs your wrist harshly as he stops you from using an unsuspecting man with shaggy blonde hair as your drug of choice for the night. You look up at him in embarrassment, his fingers still clutching your wrist tightly.

“You’re better than this,” he says sternly, “No more – understood – that’s my only request, or I will take the pain away, without your permission.”

“Thought you wanted me to own my darkness,” the words are a bit seductive and surprise even you as they come out of your mouth.

“Not like that,” Loki responds glaring down at you, carefully releasing your wrist.

You hold his gaze defiantly for a moment before giving him a small nod of understanding.

Spain, 1902

Your pace quickens as you rush down the sidewalk, the book tucked carefully inside the black robes you’re wearing. Glancing back over your shoulder at the monastery, you make sure no one is following, but your foot lands on one of the cobblestones wrong, causing you to lose your balance. An arm snakes its way around your waist, saving you from toppling over into the street.

“Hi,” Loki keeps you balanced as he takes in your appearance, “where were you and why are you dressed like a nun?”

You raise an eyebrow at his reference, “How do you know what nuns dress like?”

“I’ve been to Midgard more than once,” he retorts. “I’m not an imbecile. What are you up to?”

“Nothing,” you say innocently enough.

“Not nothing,” Loki smiles, “you’re scheming – I can tell.” He pauses as he releases you, turning to walk away, “It’s brilliant.”

You take a couple quick steps to catch up with him before you say, “So, you’re not mad?”

You hadn’t told him about your plan to steal the Book of the Damned, after all, he had never met Charlie Bradbury. You knew you couldn’t save Tony or Natasha, but maybe this was one death you could prevent.

“Of course not,” he says nonchalantly, “you’re rather cute when you scheme.”

Clarius

“Loki...” you don’t look away from the night sky as you take in the billions of brightly shining stars above you. “This is…wow.”

“You wanted stars,” the trickster replies casually, before he climbs up onto the rock formation behind you. You turn to look at him and he offers you a hand, which you accept and join him on top of the stone.

You sit down first, still enamored with the view above you, and he sits as you say, “They feel so much closer than back home.”

“There’s no better place in the galaxy for star-gazing,” Loki comments.

The smirk on your lips can’t be hidden as you glance over at him, “So, there is more than just tricks and dramatic flair under there.”

“I’m not dramatic,” his look is defensive.

The narrow-eyed expression you give him gains an eye roll and you lie back against the rock. He joins you, and after a few moments, begins pointing out constellations you’ve never even heard of. If someone had told you a few years ago that you would spend a couple hours star gazing with the god of mischief, you would have laughed in their face. However, this isn’t the same man who had tried to kill you all those years ago – he’s different now – in a way that you’re unsure about.

New York, 1946

“I just want to see,” you say calmly, “the life she’s supposed to have without him.”

“I don’t know if that’s the best idea,” his response is hesitant, looking across to the woman sitting on the park bench, but before he can look back to you, you’re already halfway to her.

The god of mischief watches as you sit beside the woman on the bench and begin to make small talk with her. Your ability to touch someone and see their entire future is another one of your dark talents. He watches as you take the woman’s hand in yours sweetly and even from the bench across the path, he can see the bright blue flash in your eyes as well as Peggy Carter’s.

****

“Are you sure?” Loki's tone is apprehensive, as he stands beside possibly the largest tree in the park.

“It’s not about me,” you reply, “this is for her. It was selfish of him to just take away the happiness she found once she had let him go. He was the one telling everyone to move on, but he never did and to go back and wreck her timeline – “

Your tone is venomous, and Loki has never seen you this angry before. He’s curious what future you saw for Peggy as you pace back and forth in front of him on the grass.

“This will alter his timeline.”

“I don’t give a shit,” you reply, “he abandoned everyone and it’s not fair to her.”

“He will never forgive you for this,” Loki steps in front of you, to halt your pacing, touching your arm gently. “As much as I would love that – are you certain?”

“I don’t care,” he can see the sadness in your eyes as you look up at him, “I already lost him.”

Loki watches from across the street as you talk with Agent Carter and he sees the small waves of blue light which begin to manifest from your fingertips as you speak. The dark-haired woman in an apparent trance and oblivious to the magic you’re weaving around her. Even with the power you possess, you’re more concerned with another person’s happiness than you are your own. He’d give you the universe on a gold platter if you’d let him.  

Asgard

“Is that her?” You question, looking across the garden at a woman who is walking with a young boy with jet black hair.

Loki gives a nod of his head, a sad, reminiscent look in his eye as he watches the events unfold before him. He’s wearing his usually black and green, while your dress is a bright blue color with a silver breast plate and wrist guards.

“Look how adorable you were,” you say jokingly, shoving his arm with your hand, “it’s always the cute ones you have to watch out for – they’ll try to take over the world.”

“Funny,” he remarks, “come, let’s go this way.”

He starts down an opposite path in the garden, away from the path Frigga and young Loki are walking. You follow along beside him quietly watching as he examines the different flowers and plants. “Take me somewhere you want to see.” Those had been your words to him after the last trip to 1946. You hadn’t expected for him to bring you to his home, although you had heard Thor tell stories of how beautiful it was, his words could never do Asgard justice.

“She seems like a wonderful person,” you comment, noticing as he glances back across the large garden to the woman.

“She was,” he replies, “she always showed me nothing but kindness and love. She saw the good in me, even when I refused to believe it was there.”

There is a moment of silence as you continue along the cobblestone walkway and you finally speak up, “Well, the first time I met you…”

“I tried to kill you,” Loki interrupts, glancing down at you.

“True,” you reply, “but given the circumstances…”

Your words are interrupted again as someone taps gently on one of your wrist guards, causing you to stop walking and turn to look down at the dark-haired child standing behind you. Loki stands frozen as he stares down at his younger self, not saying a word as the child doesn’t even acknowledge his presence, but speaks to you instead, “Excuse me miss.”

“Hi,” you squat down to be eye level with the young boy and you notice the bright blue flower in his hand.

“I couldn’t help it,” he begins shyly, “but I could feel your sadness.”

Your eyes widen in shock at the revelation and you glance up at the man standing beside you in disbelief before looking back at the child. He offers you the flower from his hand and you take it offering him a warm smile.

“Thank you.”

“I don’t know what someone as pretty as you could possibly be sad about,” the little boy states, his blue eyes staring into yours innocently.

“Well,” you begin slowly, glancing down at the flower for a moment, “I lost a friend.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, offering his hand to you, “My name’s Loki – I could be your friend, if you’d like?”

You take his small hand in yours, “I’d like that very much.” You cut your eyes up to see a smile on Loki’s face as he watches you interact with his younger self.

“Loki,” Frigga’s voice calls from across the garden.

“I have to go,” the little boy says, “I’ll see you again soon?”

You nod enthusiastically as the boy smiles before running off down the path.

You stand back up, twirling the flower between your fingers, as you stare at the trickster, “I think we just changed your timeline.”

“How so?” Loki questions.

“Because now, you might have a crush,” you smirk, glancing back to the little boy running across the garden.

“Unlikely,” he responds coolly, before you loop your arm through his and the two of you continue to walk down the path.

London 1970

Loki sits outside the small café waiting on you, a smile on his face as he watches a young couple a few tables away. It’s obvious to anyone nearby that they are very much in love. They exude it, with small touches and playful kisses. The girl moves closer to her boyfriend on the bench they share as she leans into him, resting her head against his shoulder for a moment. The action reminds Loki of the night before and your terrible movie choices, although the scary movie you had picked out was the reason you ended up practically buried into his side on the couch, so it wasn’t that bad after all. You had fallen asleep there on his shoulder and he wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, but he had started the movie over once it went off, just as an excuse to hold you for a little while longer.

He’s calmly sipping a cup of coffee when he notices you running down the sidewalk towards him, an old leather-bound book tucked under one arm and a hatchet in your opposite hand. He jumps up quickly, rushing to you as you come to a frantic stop.

“Bad news,” you say, out of breath, “we have to skip the museum tour.”

“What did you do?”

“I had to pick something up,” you reply, “and the previous owners weren’t happy about it.”

“Why do you have a hatchet?”

“Because they tried to stop me,” you say matter-of-factly.

“You’re a witch,” Loki looks at you in confusion, “you had other options.”

“I didn’t want to hurt them.”

“It’s a hatchet!”

“It was only to scare them,” you reply before tossing the weapon across the bushes beside you.

“You said you were going shopping,” he narrows his eyes at you.

“Technically,” you smirk, “I was.”

“Technically,” his smile is just as mischievous, “you’re scheming.”

“You love it,” you quip, grabbing his arm and turning him to walk down the sidewalk with you.

“You have no idea.”

 Kansas, 2012

“This place looks abandoned,” Loki states looking up at the dilapidated building.

“It is,” you reply, pulling a key from your pocket, “but it won’t be in another year.”

You open the door to the bunker and Loki follows you down the staircase as you flip the power switch to illuminate the inside.

“Whose place is this?” He questions, walking along the expansive bookshelves as you fumble in a drawer for a pen and paper.

“Friend of a friend,” you reply as you begin to write on the paper.

“You’re scheming again,” Loki smiles as he approaches, looking over your shoulder at the note.

Dear Winchesters,

This is The Book of the Damned, you’re welcome. This other book is the Black Grimoire, so keep it locked away please.

“You’re not slightly curious what’s in that book?” Loki questions as he leans down, his face beside yours as he flips the grimoire open with one hand.

“No,” you glance over at him, closing the book, “I’m powerful enough without it. That’s equivalent to witch steroids – I have enough dark magic in me without juicing.”

“You really are quite astonishing,” Loki cuts his eyes over to you, “just how powerful are you?”

Maintaining eye contact with the man, you begin slowly, “Tell me one of your greatest fears,”

“Being loved,” the response comes without hesitation, almost robotically, “because I don’t deserve it.” He blinks in realization of his answer, knowing you forced the truth from his mouth.

“That’s dark,” you respond sadly, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Everyone deserves to be loved.”

“What other surprises are you hiding?” He questions quietly, enamored with you.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You smirk before stepping away from the table.

“Oh, would I.”

 Paris, 1890

He stands outside the building waiting for you, dressed much like the rest of the men who are entering the doors behind him, in a black tuxedo with a white undershirt. The trickster spots you through the small crowd of people as you glance around for him and he notes your eye make-up is not as dark it’s been. The emerald green dress you’re wearing is unlike anything he’s ever seen you in, the corset top clings to your waist while pushing your breasts together, and he suddenly has a new fascination with this Midgard fashion. There are no sleeves and you have your hair pinned up, leaving your shoulders and neck bare. Gloves the same color green run up the length of your arms, stopping at your elbows, and he watches as one hand gathers the length of the dress up as you start to move towards him.

“Hi,” Loki greets, finally meeting your gaze, noting the small smile on your lips, “you look…” He pauses, words elude him, and he knits his brows together as he licks his lips nervously.

“Are you speechless?” You joke as you reach up to straighten his tie.

“You look…ravishing,” he finally says quietly, taking one of your hands in his.

“And to think,” you flash him a smirk, “you didn’t want to come.”

“I can be a fool sometimes,” Loki says as if still entranced by your presence.

“Come on,” you tug on the hand you’re still holding, “we’ll miss the show.”

The two of you turn and head toward the entrance below the giant windmill and the signage reading: Moulin Rouge.

***

“Dance with me,” the request is innocent, your intention is not. You’ve been watching an older sleaze ball harass one of the younger dancers for several minutes now.

“I doubt you can keep up,” he stands from the table, offering you his hand, “but if the lady insists.”

You place your hand in his, following him into the mass of people and your surprised when he twirls you quickly into his chest. He smirks as you regain your composure, moving your left hand to his shoulder while he expertly takes your right hand in his.

“Everything alright?” His whispers his question after he watches your body tense up. His hand on your waist, pulling you closer into him is more intimate than the two of you have been since starting this little adventure.

You try to steady your breathing, remembering the reason behind this whole idea, however, his hands on you were giving you a new reason for it.

“Yea,” your response is a little more breathless than you want it to sound and his smile isn’t lost on you, but you smile back, your body defying the confusion reigning in your mind. After a moment, you look past Loki to the sleaze ball who was your original target and the god follows your gaze, watching as the man runs a greedy hand up the young dancer’s thigh. The disgust and embarrassment evident on her face as she tries to pull away. Loki feels your left hand leave his shoulder momentarily, and suddenly the old man begins to grab at his throat, his face panic stricken as he falls to the floor. Other patrons rush to his side to help him as he chokes, giving the young girl a chance to escape and make her way backstage.

The god of mischief slowly turns back to look at you curiously, “Was that you?”

You glance up at him, wide-eyed and innocent, a smile playing at the corners of your lips, “Whatever do you mean?”

A laugh escapes his lips before he begins to skillfully move with you through the mass of dancing bodies, the two of you cheek to cheek. His breath warm against your ear, “You are a goddess.”

The words give you goosebumps and you pull back slightly to meet his gaze, “That’s quite a compliment from a god.”

“It shouldn’t take a god,” he says quietly, and you can see the sincerity in his eyes. “If the mortal couldn’t see all that you are – it’s his loss.”

You lean back into him, placing your cheek against his, feeling more comfortable in his arms than you know you should.

2023

Sleep eludes you, after your evening of dancing, so you make your way down the hall, heading for your kitchen, when the sight of the trickster on your couch makes you stop in your tracks. He’s sleeping peacefully and you wonder what it is he’s dreaming of as you make your way to sit on the coffee table across from him. The thought alone is wrong, but Loki’s not exactly an open book, so maybe getting inside his head would give you a little more insight into what his plans are. Dream walking isn’t something you like to do, it’s an invasion of privacy, but there are exceptions. You focus on the man before you as you close your eyes.

It takes a moment for you to realize what’s happening. Loki stands with his back to you, and you watch as he forcefully lifts the person in front of him up and takes a step forward, setting her atop the kitchen counter as her hands move to rest just above his hips. Is this a full-blown make-out session? Suddenly you feel a little bad for being here, but that doesn’t stop you from quietly taking a few steps to the side in order to get a better view of his partner. Your breath catches in your throat when you finally recognize the girl: it’s you. Loki’s mouth is on yours, slow and soft kisses, as his tongue teases yours – darting inside your mouth. One of your hands moves to the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to you, while his hands jerk your hips greedily to him. A sudden thrust from him and you watch as your head falls back against the cabinet, while his teeth nip at your collarbone. Another thrust, and the moan that escapes your lips sends a shiver down your spine. Seeing this play out, almost in slow motion before you, causes your body to react faster than your mind can function, and you feel the heat pooling between your thighs. Knowing how he tastes, the euphoric feeling only he can give you, suddenly makes you feel empty and deprived, wondering what he would also feel like inside you – the feel of his body against yours – how his lips feel as they devour you.

You pull yourself from the dream quickly and stumble to your feet, staring down at the person below you. The trickster, who at one time had wanted you for the darkness you possess, to cause chaos with him in taking over the world. You thought he was past saving when he flung you from the roof in New York, this was that same version of Loki you have to remind yourself – not the version you became friends with later on. He’s seen the future though, so there’s a chance he’s not the villain he was then, he’s not committed any crimes since you’ve been with him – no tricks.

You reach down slowly to touch his cheek but stop yourself. The way you’re feeling right now is wrong – or is it? You deserve the chance to be happy again. Loki does make you smile, laugh, with no expectations, and he seems genuine. These thoughts aren’t your own though, they’re his – or are they?

The next morning you’re pacing the length of the kitchen after your third cup of coffee and no sleep, when Loki makes his appearance.

“Finally,” you state, pointing a finger at him, stopping long enough to take another sip of your coffee.

“Good morning,” he greets, moving to grab an empty mug from the shelf.

“So,” you begin, rather frantically, “you know when sometimes, out of the blue you just want some ice cream, but it’s okay, because it’s your decision. Then other times, you might see someone eating ice cream and think, ‘oh hey, I want ice cream.’ Only because you saw someone else eating ice cream, so it’s not really your decision, it was influenced by someone else.”

“You’re rambling,” Loki remarks nonchalantly pouring himself a cup of coffee.

You take a deep breath, “I fucked up.”

He turns from the coffee pot and raises an eyebrow curiously, “Did you eat ice cream?”

“No,” you shake your head, “I couldn’t sleep last night and I – I got inside your head.”

The trickster’s expression falls as he begins to realize what you were implying with your previous statement and he interrupts you, “No.”

“Yes,” you look at him sheepishly, “and now I want ice cream, and I wasn’t fully aware I wanted ice cream before I saw you have ice cream and –”

“How do you feel about ice cream?” His question catches you off guard and you can feel your heart beating erratically in your chest. Loki places his coffee mug on the counter, turning to watch you with an intense gaze.

“I think I’ve wanted it since I tasted you that day in New York,” your response is timid as he closes the distance between you. “Which scares the hell out of me.”

“Why does it frighten you?” His blue eyes hold your gaze as he stands over you.  

“Because,” you continue nervously, “everything I’ve experienced, I’m still recovering, and I don’t trust myself with you, not yet anyway. I need to forget – about the ice cream.”  

“You do know,” he tests the water, his tone slightly sinister as he brushes your hair behind your ear, “what this means? Giving me control of your mind like that, I can erase whatever memory I choose – twist and turn your thoughts if I want – oh, the havoc we could wreak.”

Glancing up at him then, you see the small glint in his eyes as he contemplates the idea, and his hand moves to cup the side of your cheek as he continues, “Still want me inside your mind?”

You move your hand to rest on top of his, squeezing slightly as you say without hesitation, “I trust you.”

Loki falters at your words, and you catch the slight sadness in his eyes as he moves his fingers along to your temple as he whispers, “You’re the first.”

As he works his magic, your eyes flash green briefly before you close them tightly, and after a moment the trickster pulls his hand away from your temple allowing you to open your eyes slowly.

“Now, stay out of my mind,” the man glares down at you as he speaks, and you raise a curious eyebrow.

Slowly you realize where you are and the last thing you remember is going to bed last night, you narrow your eyes at the man, “Did you just do a Vulcan mind-meld on me?”

“I have no idea what that means,” he replies, stepping backwards to lean against the counter, picking up his coffee mug, “but you asked, and I delivered. So, where to today, little witch?”

Suddenly a bright orange orb begins to fizzle in the center of the room, slowly expanding into a larger circle. Loki's eyes cut from the spectacle over to you and he catches the look of panic cross your features.

“You should go,” you say quickly, turning your gaze to him, “now!”

The trickster vanishes in a puff a smoke as the orb fully opens to reveal the inside of what appears to be a conference room. A man dressed in a blue robe steps through the opening, a dark red cloak floating along behind him. It appears to be attached to his shoulders but moves as if it has a mind of its own.

Stephen cocks his head at your with a slight know-it-all smirk, “Someone’s been messing with time.”

Your hands fly to your chest in mock astonishment, “Who? Me?”

“The Director will see you now,” Strange states, waving his arm toward the portal, waiting on you to enter.

You make your way through the portal and enter the conference room to see Nick Fury standing at the head of the table. A small lump forms in your throat as you see Steve sitting directly to the right of him, the look on his face indicates he’s both sad and pissed off. Wilson and Barnes are also sitting at the large table, as is Peter Parker. The youngest Avenger gives you a small smile as you sit down beside him.

“Hey,” he says quietly to you.

You smile back before turning a glare toward Fury, “Does Parker need to be here?”

The young man glances between the two of you curiously as the man at the head of the table speaks, “Yes. He needs to know what you’ve been up to.”

You clench your jaw while Parker shifts uncomfortably in the seat beside you as Strange moves to sit at the front of the table opposite of Rogers.

“You disobeyed a direct order,” Fury states glaring down the table at you.

“And?” You challenge him. “Who at this table hasn’t?”

Your words cause the tension in the room to shift as a noise from outside gains Fury’s attention and suddenly the door the conference room opens, and Thor enters. He gives a nod of acknowledgement to everyone at the table, “Sorry I’m late, wasn’t aware there was a party.”

“When did you get back?” Fury questions him.

“Earlier today,” he responds with a smile before moving to sit beside Steve, “please, continue.”

“You’ve been using your magic,” Stephen comments.

“And that’s a crime?” You question him.

“Dark magic is,” he responds.

“Dark magic?” Wilson interrupts, “like black magic – voodoo stuff?”

Barnes shakes his head at Sam and his inappropriate timing to start questioning you about your abilities.

“Wait, I’m confused. Are you the villain?” Peter turns to question you.

“We’re all villains in someone’s story,” you respond quickly to him, before you glance over to Barnes who gives you a small nod of understanding. Steve clenches his jaw at your words as he looks down at the table in front of him.

Fury looks annoyed, “I specifically told you not to mess with the timeline.”

“Oh,” you lean forward on the table, your expression changing as you point an angry finger toward Rogers, “but he can.”

“Where’s Loki?” Steve’s words are sharp as he stares at you with distrust.

“Why would I tell you?” You glare at the man who knows you more intimately than anyone in the room.

“He tried to kill you,” he responds in disbelief. “Or did you forget?”

“Yea, and then he saved me,” you snap back. “Where were you?”

Rogers’ gaze drops as Thor looks from the man beside him back over to you in disbelief, “You know where my brother is?”

“Not exactly,” you respond, glancing over to the god.

“She’s been running around with him for the last few months,” Fury states, “traveling through time and space, her mission was to bring him, and the Black Grimoire, in.”

“Speaking of which…” Strange interrupts Fury, looking towards you, “where is the book?”

You smirk, “Like I’m giving that to S.H.I.E.L.D…don’t worry Strange, it’s safe.”

“There will be repercussions to your actions,” Fury states, “you know that, right?”

You shrug your shoulders, “Lock me up Director, throw away the key – doesn’t matter to me. I’m not giving you Loki and I’m not giving you the book. Now, if you need my help saving the world, I’m in, but I won’t be a pawn in whatever game you’re trying to play.”

“Leave us,” Fury states to everyone else in the room, causing the rest of the men to slowly stand up and make their way out the door.

*

Once Fury releases you, with strict instructions to inform him if Loki contacts you again, you exit the conference room, intent on finding Wilson or Barnes to drive you back home.

“Can we talk?” Steve questions from the wall he’s leaning against as you walk past him.

“Yes,” you don’t slow down, “but not today.”

“When?”

You stop then, turning to face him, seeing the look of remorse on his face, “I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry,” he takes a step towards you and you shake your head.

“I’m not,” you say before descending the stairs.

You’re down the stairs and across the lobby when you hear Thor’s voice, “Wait up.”

“I’m not telling you where your brother is,” you state as the man falls in step with you.

“I understand,” he replies, “if he wants to see me, I’m sure he’ll find a way. So, you and Loki are – close?”

“Yes,” you glance up at the god of thunder, “he really is a good man Thor.”

“I know,” he smiles warmly. “Where are you headed?”

“To grab a few of my things, then home. I’d ask you to drive me, but…”

“Right, no experience there,” Thor comments as you reach the door to your room. You open the door and walk inside, not paying attention to the fact the Asgardian checks to see if anyone is watching before he follows you inside and shuts the door, quickly turning the lock on the knob.

Hearing the door shut, you turn, “Thor, what are you…”

Thor no longer stands behind you, Loki’s eyes glare across the small room at you as he says quietly, “All this time, you were playing me, but you were really playing them.”

“No,” you fold your arms across your chest, “I was doing what was right.”

“When?” He questions you, seeing the confused look on your face. “When did they assign you?”

“Strange came to see me after you stopped by that first night,” you reply, “told me about the grimoire and that Fury wanted me to bring you in.”

“So that’s why you went with me?” His tone is challenging, but there’s a sadness in his eyes and you see it.

“No, I went with you, because – you came for me,” you reply quietly. “I felt like you actually cared and that was more than I had felt in months.” His eyes brighten up again and he sees the look of adoration on your face.

“Why even get the book?” He questions, leaning back against the desk.

“Because S.H.I.E.L.D. knew where it was – now they don’t.”

A wide smile crosses his face, “Clever girl.”

“You know they won’t stop looking for you.”

“I know – I may need to go away for a while,” Loki says, his eyes watching you intently, “come with me.”

Closing the distance between the two of you, a sigh escapes your lips, “I would love that.”

“Then why do I feel a ‘but’ coming?”

“But,” he mirrors the smirk you give him as you continue, “I have a few things I need to square away here first, give me a few months, then –”

“Scheming.”

“Lots of scheming,” you cup the side of his cheek.

A sudden knock at the door interrupts you and Sam’s voice is slightly muffled from the other side.

“Hey, sorry…Fury said something about an open-door policy…that you can’t be trusted,” his tone is hesitant, “I’m just the messenger.”

“You should go,” you whisper, flicking your eyes up to Loki.

He gives a slight nod, then lightly kisses your forehead, “I’ll see you soon.”

With a cloud of smoke, he disappears, and you smile to yourself as you move to open the door to your room.

***

“Hey Barnes,” you announce, making your way into the common room. The dark-haired man glances up at you expectantly as you continue, “can you give me a lift back to my place?”

“Sure thing,” he responds, standing up from his place on the couch.

“Hey,” Peter pops up with a nervous smile, “can I come? Maybe have a movie night, like old times?”

You narrow your eyes at him, “Movie night?”

Parker swallows visibly as he gives a nod, but you continue, “Or is Fury sending you to babysit? Make sure I don’t run off with the god of mischief.”

“That too,” he gives you a half-smile, relieved he’s not having to lie to you.

“Sure,” you roll your eyes as you turn to follow Barnes, “you can sleepover Parker.”

“Great,” he jumps over the back of the couch, shooting a web from his palm out across the room to snatch his duffel bag from beside the kitchen counter.

***

“Where else did you go?” Peter questions excitedly as you unlock the door to your apartment.

“Parker,” you look at him in exhaustion, his questions haven’t stopped since you left the compound. “We have all night.”

“Right – sorry.”

You push the door open and the fragrant smell overtakes your senses as you slowly enter. Your mouth falls open at the sight before you as Peter drops his duffel to the floor, closing the door behind you.

“Holy shit,” he says as he walks past you, looking around, “that’s a lot of flowers.”

Every surface in your apartment has a crystal vase brimming with blue Asgardian flowers. The same flower young Loki had given you in the garden the day you met him. There has to be hundreds of them, if not more. Peter takes off down the hall and into your bedroom, “They’re in here too!”

You shake your head as you approach and see a small white note tucked into vase on the coffee table.

“And in your bathroom!” Parker calls from the other room, as you pull the note from the vase, “They’re literally everywhere!”

Unfolding the note, you see the wispy, perfectly written words:

You saved me first little witch; you just didn’t know it.

P.S. I might have a crush.

Part 2