#i think usually it's either softer chapters or things we are proud of or find more interesting

[snow-system-wol]

Covers S'ria (and co.) in the 6.0 quests in Garlemald from "How the Mighty have Fallen" to "No Good Deed", sticking to canon events.

Ao3 link

Warnings:

minor descriptions of injuries

panic attack / being triggered

quest-typical levels of depressing

S'ria had thought he was past much of the long-ingrained hatred, whittled away through years of time spent with Cid, Lucia, Maxima – hell, even Gaius. He was fully prepared to help Garlemald, knowing that civilians had hardly done anything wrong (gods knew the propaganda could be incessant) and they did not deserve the brutality and the tempering foisted upon them by the Telophoroi.

That resolve did not last as long as he'd have liked in the face of loyal Garleans, whose minds were yet their own and still utterly consumed by the words their empire had fed them. S'ria could blame the constantly bitter chill for eroding his sanity and patience, but he feared that he hadn't approached this as openly as he'd intended.

But gods, the mistrust would've put anyone on edge.

Licinia's initial accusation was interesting – that their magics and the ones destroying the minds of her fellow countrymen were one in the same. S'ria wondered whether that was merely a knee-jerk reaction borne of ignorance, or if that was a rumor that had actively been sown to breed further xenophobia. It seemed an important distinction, to know what opposition they may face.

They calmed though, and accepted aid – maybe. There was an animosity that was so barely concealed, and S'ria knew full well that their desire to simply "help" would be met with skepticism at best. He loved the twins dearly, but he feared that Alphinaud's earnest altruism may only put them more on edge – better to seem a little more… believable. Telling them that they hoped for any not loyal to the Telophoroi to survive, simply to spite their enemy, would likely be accepted long before a truly charitable explanation would.

Possibly. Or maybe it would've made things worse.

S'ria knew Licinia was hiding something – someone – but what was he to do about that? The voice he heard didn't sound overly distressed, just weak, so he doubted it was any kind of captive… and so he left it at that. S'ria didn't understand why any member of their group wouldn't be allowed to take in the warmth of the fire with the rest of them, but that seemed far too much of a thing to press at this very delicate stage.

Meeting the tappers was an almost welcome break from interacting with those at Victor's Spoils, if only to speak with some people who greeted their group with less hostility. Ah, well, less hostility after they tried to kill him, but it was a misunderstanding and no one had died, so fair was fair.

A part of S'ria was, illogically, almost jealous of this group. The labour was hard and they hadn't had a chance to leave the country even now, but S'ria couldn't help but think… if he had been brought to Garlemald for this sort of work instead, perhaps things would've been different. But he was a weak child then, it would never have been his fate anyway.

The walk back made S'ria suddenly conscious of the fact that Alisaie being by his side meant Alphinaud was alone, and seeing the area by the fire unattended was enough to make his breath quicken.

S'ria supposed maybe they should've known better, but the point was that they were out here to try.

Trying had led to Alphinaud clutching his should while blood seeped through his fingers, stood over a group of injured but still very much alive attackers. It was only with a great deal of reminding himself that the aggressors were subdued that S'ria managed to calm himself. No more violence was needed here.

Oh, how S'ria had not missed Garlean sensibilities at all – and it concerned him that he suddenly understood and remembered a bit more about their social standards than he had moments prior. Any little bits of knowledge pried from memories would need to not start an avalanche of recalling, not here, not now.

The word that stuck with him so much was "purity". There was so much emphasis put on purity of one's heritage, on being a trueblooded Garlean and anything else was undeserving of dignity. (And despite the fact that they treated mixed race offspring with little more regard than they did their mothers, they seemed ill-inclined to avoid such things during their occupation.) That status was a coveted trait…as if there was anything pure about it to maintain.

And yet, these lot claimed that anything was better than allowing their magics or their ways to taint them, that it was an act so fundamentally wrong that any proper Garlean would sooner die. They seemed very determined to have their way on that one. The two missing sisters didn't bode…very well.

He wasn't yet at the point of saying that those who seemed so determed to die should be left to it – but for gods' sake, what was even going to happen when they found the girls? What then?

S'ria was hesitant to leave Alphinaud behind to heal himself and the others – the attempts to heal them via magical means may just provoke more violence rather than allowing him to help – but he could handle himself now that they'd lost the element of surprise. The sisters certainly wouldn't benefit from S'ria loitering around at Victor's Spoils.

(To the Victor go the damn Spoils, indeed – and the prize was nothing kind.)

If it wasn't so damn far below freezing, the tracks leading across the ice would've put terrifying images in S'ria's head. Drowning in a frozen lake seemed a horrific way to go. The ice seemed frozen for at least a fulm down at least and was fully solid under his feet. He was glad that neither his last moments nor Licinia's would be spent in water so cold that your lungs refused to draw air even if you found the surface again.

On some level, S'ria had known that it was hopeless even before they'd started to search. Perhaps it was better that it wasn't a near miss. There was no "just a minute faster" to question here, these bodies were ice cold – even in this temperature, it wouldn't be so quick. It hurt, but not as badly as it could've. It'd been… a humane enough death, all things considered. Just entirely unnecessary. It was a brief punch in the gut and then he could breathe again – maybe it helped that he'd never really expected this search to go well.

S'ria wished the same could be said of the twins. They seemed devastated, and S'ria would've taken some of that turmoil off their shoulders if he could've. The gods knew they'd blame themselves for this. From the moment their postures had changed upon processing the scene, S'ria had wanted to draw them close – but who knew if that would go over well, with both of them in a state that rivaled the worst he'd seen either of them in. The closest he could compare to was Tesleen and the Crystal Braves for each of them, and S'ria did not want to make either of them feel worse.

Alphinaud wanted the bodies properly taken care of. S'ria wasn't sure that was for the best, to return carrying bodies, but Alphinaud was not likely to walk away without trying to do what little was left. S'ria could honor that.

Licinia would not have liked to have been buried with the aid of magic. It was more for the twins than for her that S'ria labored to drive a shovel through permafrost, but neither did he wish his last action here to be one of disrespect. He felt eyes on the back of his neck the entire time. Did they even bury their dead in Garlemald? Perhaps they did something else entirely, like cremation or the like, and this was only another misstep.

So be it.

It was a painfully cold walk back. What had Lucia promised him for his search efforts? Warm soup upon his return? S'ria hardly had an appetite, but he'd take the warmth all the same. After this many hours, he felt near frozen through.

It felt odd. During this trip so far, S'ria been (to put it bluntly) the psychological weak link of the group. He was very aware of the fact that he was somehow doing better than Alphinaud and Alisaie in this exact moment, and that was…alarming. For all of Alisaie's boldness and Alphinaud's pragmatism, somehow they'd both refused to explain to Lucia what had happened. S'ria would not begrudge them this one, it was an easy enough burden to accept, telling her in their stead.

He tried his best to stay objective, even if his ability to do so wavered throughout his report. Lucia was never easy to read, as meticulously stoic as she could be at times, but there was something in her expression that S'ria didn't know how to interpret by the time he was done explaining.

They all needed food and rest.

What they did not need was Jullus. It felt as though they were having two damn conversations – one where they offered to let him leave with supplies and a separate one where Jullus felt that there were negotiations occurring. S'ria couldn't help but feel immensely frustrated every time he opened his mouth.

S'ria knew the twins were going to volunteer and insist on it. He would never let them go alone, of course, but… it was a trap. Just three people only, leaving to an unknown location with a man who so clearly hated them? It was a terrible idea. It was such a terrible idea that Fray clamored over it, seething in the back of his mind with the vague threat to wrench control and let none of the three of them follow through with this. S'ria couldn't blame them, only to hope that they'd let it happen regardless. Even if it was a truly terrible idea that seemed hardly worth it even in the best case scenario.

Perhaps the only thing that made Fray stay their hand was the fact that Jullus seemed to have no idea who any of them were, even S'ria. "A sellsword and two children", indeed.

As they traveled, S'ria once again got the sense that Jullus lived in a reality just adjacent to the one where the rest of them resided, hearing whatever he wanted to hear. S'ria could understand his doubt over any cure for tempering, even if the stance taken was somewhat callous. It was just frustrating, for him to take Alphinaud's admission that they knew not how to fix those whose bodies had been corrupted as proof that no talk of the cure was warranted. S'ria felt they'd been rather clear about the limitations, but no matter – at least the annoyance served to keep his blood pumping a little warmer. And maybe serve as a distraction to his nerves.

His body was quick to reminder him, after all, that he'd hardly had the chance to warm up before heading back out here.

The legatus could've been worse, S'ria supposed, but that wasn't high praise. Quintus was everything S'ria had expected – calmly arrogant and utterly assured of being right. Would they have walked into such as obvious trap if they did not bear good intentions? More importantly, surely the world not ending was enough of an explanation of the Alliance's motivations that foul play need not be immediately suspected? It quickly became clear that nothing would come of this.

Any possibility of common ground being found crashed and burned when Quintus asked Alphinaud – if he cared for peace so much, why would he not advocate for Eorzea submitting to the Empire's rule? If Quintus truly, truly could not comprehend the answer to that question, then there was no point in speaking to each other at all.

Quintus clearly agreed, declaring negotiations over. At least the sound of a dozen soldiers readying their weapons meant that S'ria could stop waiting for things to go wrong. Hostages, that was what had come of whatever this was meant to be – perhaps meant to barter for food and supplies that had already been offered in the first place. They seemed to have no concrete plans yet aside from not allowed them to leave.

If anyone suggested that S'ria should speak to another Garlean faction and try to provide aid or seek common ground, he thought he might just say no next time. He hadn't even been paying very close enough attention to Quintus speaking any longer. He was more concerned with regretfully considered whether Fray intervening back at Camp Broken Glass might've been for the best, so the next words shattering through his mind were met with no preparation.

"Collar them."

S'ria would be hard-pressed to explain what his mind and body felt like for those next few seconds. Time felt very slow as his blood turned to ice in his veins and the adrenaline rush to his head was enough for half his vision to go spotty. The scars on his neck burned with phantom pain of something that blessedly lay just outside of his memories.

No. No. No, this wasn't going to happen. Alisaie and Alphinaud briefly dropped entirely from the equation, with him fully ready to leave them behind to cut his way out of here before a single person could lay a hand on him – or if escape was impossible, at least die before letting someone clamp anything around his neck.

Quintus waved off the soldiers, warning them off from approaching S'ria and he could breathe just faintly easier as he realized they weren't going to try it. Good for their sake, he supposed – the result would not have been bloodless. He could feel the pressure in his skull subside as the frantic attempts of others to wrench control away and engage fight or flight ceased. S'ria wasn't sure which would've stepped in... but allegedly he'd gone completely meek and pliant way back during the Crystal Brave's betrayal, and that seemed the worst possible response in any given situation going forward. That was safely avoided, this time, it was all right.

His lungs tightened anew as he realized they'd considered abandoning Alphinaud and Alisaie while in that blind panic. How could he even think that?

It was clearly obvious to Quintus how much S'ria cared for those two. In the same relief-inducing statement in which he suggested trying to put a collar on S'ria was impractical, he also clarified that their only leash on him would be psychological. And he was entirely correct – S'ria had no desire to see what happened when the shock function was activated, and even less desire to see it demonstrated on someone he cared about.

S'ria wondered how obvious his full body trembling was. He hoped it'd be misinterpreted as rage, or else his mind and flesh were betraying far too many weaknesses to those who likely had no aversion to exploiting them. The dregs of terror along with the rush of relief were a potent cocktail that left him unsteady on his feet and less present than he'd like.

S'ria took back any concessions he had made while taking on this entire mission – tempered or not, there was something deeply wrong with the people that still remained in this country.

----------

Menphina was unsure if S'ria meant for this, which of them had been the catalyst, but perhaps she was brought out by S'ria's concern for the twins. Jullus seemed aware of the change on some level – the Warrior of Light softening around his previously raw edges into a sort of soft worry, S'ria's accent giving way to Menphina's (to say nothing of the noticeable pitch change.)

She wondered what he may think of all this and whether he thought his confusion was well-concealed or not. He'd seemed a touch intimidated to learn who this "sellsword" actually was, so it was surely just more fuel for the fire to hear S'ria's "Limsa-Lominsan-enough-ish" accent slip back into hers, fully unaltered since the last time they were in this country.

She was sure it was not lost on Jullus that she sounded… distinctly more like an upper class Garlean citizen than like those without good lineage or gil. In fact, she spoke not unlike Jullus himself. Of course, no miqo'te would ever have been allowed in that part of their society, so let him make of that what he will.

She'd never explain, if he decided to ask. S'ria was safest if no one who meant them harm knew too much.

Never mind the fact that Zenos already did know to some unknown extent, which was deeply and truly regrettable – though less dangerous than it sounded. What would be a fair more alarming problem was if any of that had found its way to Fandaniel.

Zenos, with their rematch not yet taken, would not intentionally toy with S'ria's triggers in any way that would dull S'ria's edge during the fight – she was reasonably certain at least. If Zenos was to win, he would not want it to feel like he only bested S'ria via the path of least resistance. Killing S'ria while his will to fight was broken seemed just distinctly unsatisfying for his wishes. (Menphina hoped fervently that she was right about that much.) Fandaniel, on the other hand… held no such concerns.

No, Menphina should not be spending so much time worrying about what-ifs while they were in a situation that warranted her full attention.

Perhaps, actually, it would be better if she was left to handle it actually. The words and threats hurt, but she could bear them (better her than S'ria, repeated like a mantra) – it was the fact that she was quite perilously close to being struck that concerned her. She was scared of the pain, yes, that'd never been her burden to bear, but she feared more for what may happen if anyone dared to lash out. Fray would hardly let that go.

If push came to shove, Menphina hoped that someone else would step in if things escalated into violence. She had never learned how to fight. (Maybe that was a mistake. Or maybe it was a mistake to think she could bear to hurt someone.)

Alphinaud's request that they help the ill and wounded was very welcome, a task that she knew how to do and would gladly assist in. She'd been considering it before he even asked… except there was scant little they could do. The unit refused any attempts to secure outside aid, even to keep the weakest of their people alive, supplies were few, and Menphina feared that exercising even her meager amount of white magic would prove… disastrous, the moment her patient realized what was being done. Besides, many of them might never consent to treatment via magical means, and that was not a line she wanted to cross while the wounded remained conscious enough to object.

----------

Ah, while Menphina did want very badly to assist the sick and wounded in whatever way she could, this particular option was… unfortunate. The body already fared so poorly in this climate, so Alisaie's suggestion that they both wade waist-deep into icy waters was borderline horrifying. Despite already shivering while dry, she took off G'raha's scarf and placed it somewhere relatively dry – while G'raha's scent had faded from the fabric by now, Menphina was sure S'ria would be none too pleased if the fabric got dunked in frigid pond sludge.

And sweet hells was it cold. The water was numbingly painful, but being out of it was even worse, with it feeling like any dampness would freeze over instantly. As glad as Menphina was that they'd found something decent to help the people there, she still huddled so close to the fire afterwards that she risked accidentally touching it.

It was always interesting to experience things, with her own past actions having been so limited in scope – interesting but often unpleasant and very strange. If Menphina had an allagan tin piece for every time she'd spoken to Garlean soldiers around a base in S'ria's stead… well, it was just an odd coincidence that it'd happened more than once now.

It wasn't all terrible, once she started to become less frozen through. Jullus wasn't so bad, not nearly as much as S'ria had made him out to be. He was just a kid, really (in her eyes, at least), and training hadn't driven all of the compassion out of him. He was clearly both concerned and grateful for their somewhat hazardous efforts to find ceruleum – even if he might phrase it in ways that sound more pragmatic than that. Jullus was just another grieving young one that wanted his family and home back, same as everyone else in the war, and as long as he didn't take that desire far enough to go to dark places, then Menphina could be okay with that.

While searching for more ceruleum, as startling as it was to hear his voice, Menphina was glad that Thancred and the others were trying to keep an eye on them. (Glad and terrified. She didn't doubt their skills, but Jullus had been very clear that catching anyone following them would have been considered an act of hostility and knowing that Thancred had actually done so was… well, Jullus hadn't noticed him then or now, so it was fine.)

She wasn't sure if there was a plan, or just to sit tight and see. Menphina agreed that their safety and well-being was the most important thing they could maintain – the twins most importantly, in her opinion. Just… she didn't like the situation much. "Whatever demands the Garleans make, indulge them." Menphina knew Thancred didn't mean anything by it, but his choice of phrasing made her stomach twist. It wasn't like that, she had to remind herself – if nothing else, with Jullus as their keeper, he still seemed too principled to condone senseless cruelty (an admirable trait, in wartimes, she'd give that much.)

----------

Shivering in the bunker, S'ria slid back into place with a jolt, nearly bumping into Alphinaud in his brief disorientation. He laughed tiredly.

"I would've hoped to have been warmer by now, but no such luck."

"Oh, S'ria! We'd been concerned. Are you well?" Alisaie seemed genuinely glad to have him back. That was sweet, as long as Menphina hopefully didn't feel any sadness over that reverse side of that idea. It was still... odd for this to be considered a somewhat normal thing, with both himself and others knowing and being okay with these strange moments.

"Yes – just a bit tired and out of it. I remember enough, no need to be concerned." S'ria wrapped his scarf a little more securely around himself. "And damned cold, but you already knew that."

Alphinaud and Alisaie both nodded very resignedly. Yes, with the heaters all but running dry now, it was awful.

S'ria just wished, more than anything else, that being reunited with the twins was not so brief. He'd suspected it would come to this from the first – while Jullus only now changed the twins' status from envoy to prisoner, they'd had the damned collars on the entire time regardless. And the cruelty of everything was just so… why accept freely offered charity for fear of owing anything when one could just take it all by force. As if Alphinaud had not already all but begged the legatus to allow for supplies to be sent for their sick and wounded.

S'ria wasn't sure Jullus could even go through with pressing the button to set off the shock collars, the way his face froze and hands shook. He didn't want to find out, though. For one moment he considered it – lunging to rip the control out of his hands in the hope that it was the only one for this set of collars, removing any chance of them being hurt. But if he was wrong, oh, they would pay the price. S'ria hated to let them out of his sight, alone with only men who hated them, the only protection afforded to them the dubious rights of a hostage. Jullus had guiltily insisted that no harm would come to them if they were compliant, and S'ria wanted so badly to be able to trust those words.

Perhaps, with the twins separated from S'ria, the next person to accuse him of offering an olive branch with ulterior motives would get a different and far clearer answer – that his goodwill had rather run dry, and the only thing that now maintained his willingness to help was honoring the wishes of the kindest among the Scions.

[joyaphoria]

the five chances you give him (5)

pairing: suna x f!reader

note: this is the last chapter! i hope you all enjoyed :)

summary: suna knew that he was doing something wrong, but he refused to acknowledge it. therefore, you slowly dropped five major hints for him, hoping that he would notice them and take action to fix your broken relationship. suna really did notice them, he just didn’t figure out in time that you were actually going to leave.

series masterlist | directory

© 𝘫𝘰𝘺𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘢

part five: rin became rintaro; then it became suna

"oh baby... nobody said that it was going to be easy." mei cooed, her voice softer than usual. she repeatedly kissed the top of your head as you cried into her lap.

"i k-know but.." you spoke through your sobs, snot along your sleeves. "i-i really hoped t-that he would ch-change.."

it's been just over two months since you've started changing your behaviour around rin, but he didn't seem to react to it—no, he may have changed, but only a bit. it wasn't enough.

you knew that this was unavoidable, and that it had to be done. the longer it takes for you to get this over with, the longer it will take for you to get over it.

so when mei sent you home that night, she reassured you that it will all be worth it in the end, and that you will find someone better.

but the fact that he was waiting for you at the same table that you used to wait at, every single night, didn't help at all.

"where were you?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

you stood there for a second with your shoes still on, and folded over with laughter.

his heart flutters. whens the last time you laughed in front of him?

"sorry," you sniffled through the laughter, the aftermath from crying earlier doing you no justice. "it's just that i used to sit in that same chair, waiting for you to come home, you know?"

hesitating for a moment, he decided on getting up and walking over to you, although he didn't know what to do.

"y/n." he's looking down at you now, resisting the urge to reach out and take hold of your hands.

"rintarou."

now that caught both of you off guard.

it slipped out without a second thought on your end, and you were visibly shocked.

as was suna, except he was more afraid than anything else. he knew what this meant—he was no longer rin to you, but rintarou.

he should be grateful though, because he knew what eventually might come next. he knew that it wouldn't be rintarou for long, and that as soon as it changes, it would be over; everything would be over.

"were you crying?" he whispers, reaching out to wipe at your tear stained cheeks. except you wouldn't let him, grabbing his wrist in time. God—mei would be so proud; as would that kind lady from the cafe.

"why should you care?" you spat, letting go of his wrist to remove your shoes.

"because im your boyfriend." he said, although you didn't miss the quiver in his voice from that last word, as if he wasn't so sure anymore.

you move past him and head straight for the bathroom; but suna didn't miss it. he heard what you mumbled on your way out—and it had him slumped against the wall (when you were out of sight, that is)

his fists are clenched and his heart is beating a little too fast, but he can't get his mind off of what you said.

"yea, well not for long"

five words, and yet they seemed to foreshadow his future.

-

there were two possible reasons that you could be waking him up at 10 in the morning.

you were either waking him up to tell him that it was over, and that you were leaving, or that it was over, and that he had to leave.

turns out there was a third reason.

"do you have practice today?" you asked, your voice a whisper.

"yeah.. why?" he got up into a sitting position, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. its been a while since you last entered this room, moving all your things to the guest room.

"oh. nevermind." you make a gesture to leave but he panics and grabs your arm. this could be an opportunity, and he wasn't about to lose it.

"i could um.. take the day off." he nods his head.

"are you sure?" when he nods his head yet again, your features soften.

"okay, well get dressed. i feel like going to a theme park."

you leave the room before he has a chance to answer, but he complies anyways.

his mind wanders to the picture that he broke in the heat of the moment awhile back—the one where you were both smiling at an amusement park, kids laughing in the bakground.

-

"let's go on that one!" you exclaim, pointing at the rollercoaster.

a soft grin takes over your face—and while it may not be your typical energetic one, at least it was still there.

now, suna wasn't a big fan of rollercoasters. he prefered to have you go on them, while he took the photos, but today's been the first time in a while that he's actually seen you happy, and he wanted to keep it that way.

you've been here all day, and it was already pretty dark, so they might be closing soon anyways.

when the cart had finally come back around, you and rin got on, with a guy slipping in on your side.

"you guys here together?" he asked, looking over you to make eye contact with suna.

you nodded, and he chuckled.

"im here with my girlfriend, but she doesn't like roller coasters as much as i do."

now you and him are making small talk, and suna is resisting the urge to tell the guy to shut up, and to go back to his own girlfriend.

when the ride finally starts, he feels relieved, even slipping his hand into your own.

your hand tenses, and he looks up to find a look of guilt soaked into your features.

he quickly unravels his hand from yours, settling it into his lap and looking away. he got too carried away to remember that a day of rides and fun wasnt enough to fix his mistakes.

as the ride starts climbing upwards, fear pumps through his veins.

he shuts his eyes, dreading the fall.

when it finally came, he opened his eyes and hugged himself to keep from screaming.

he looks over to you, and his heart does that thing again—it flutters.

with your hands in the air, your screams adorning his ears, he fell in love. all over again.

the moonlight caressed your pretty features as your eyes shut in pure bliss, and suna found tears falling out of his own.

the tears fell but he didn't sob—not once. you didn't look his way either—not once.

instead he looked away, quickly wiping the tears before someone could catch him. he missed this; he missed you.

when you two got off the ride later, he wonders if you would ever go to another theme park with him.

-

when you decide to leave, suna finds an employee walking around the park with a polaroid camera.

he asks him to take a picture of you, and places it in his wallet. he can't break it this time.

suna misses the look of guilt that slips past your face, as if it were never there.

-

when the car pulls into the parking lot, and you both get out, suna realizes that you weren't walking beside him.

he panics and turns around, where he finds you smiling. tears in your eyes.

"thank you for today, suna."

he freezes. he can't move anymore. he can't think.

"don't be silly. let's go inside." he's walking again, but when he doesn't hear a second set of footsteps, the tears wash over him.

"why aren't you coming?" his voice cracks as the tears stream down his face.

"i'm going to mei's. it's-it's over." you smile, wiping continuously at your eyes.

"y/n please, we can talk about this." he's running over to you, taking hold of your shoulders as he bends down to make eye contact. "we're fixable, okay? i promise we are." he doesn't make move to wipe away the tears that are falling.

you wipe away his tears, pulling him into a hug. "i'm so sorry."

he wraps his arms around you and holds you tight, afraid of having you slip out of his grasp. "please, don't leave me. i'll do anything, just give me another chance. i need you."

you wriggle out of his arms, and his fists clench at his sides.

"i gave you chances. i gave you too many. i have to go."

you're running now, and he can't decide if he should run after you or not. has he not caused you enough pain?

instead, he falls to his knees and cries.

that was it. he lost you—he lost everything.

the polaroid picture was burning a hole through his wallet.

-

when he finally musters up the courage to check the guest room a few days later, he sees all your things packed up in boxes.

you had it all planned out, didn't you?

-

when mei comes later that day to pick up your things, she finds suna curled into a ball on the guest room floor.

"suna. wake up."

his eyes open slowly, and she finds them red, his eyebags puffy and cheeks tear-stained.

"is y/n gonna come back?" he asks, his voice nothing more than a whisper.

mei shakes her head, and suna cries again.

she looks away, thanking the heavens that she wasn't in a relationship. she couldn't help but pity him as she collected her best friend's things, suna's sobs as a sort of background noise.

she couldn't be surprised—the lost of your entire world was enough to make any grown man cry.

-

heartbreak isn’t easy, but suna’s heart hurts without you. where he sleeps, where he bathes, it all reeks of your touch.

you’re everywhere here, all memories playing back to him like a movie. he’s reminded of you, and recovering addicts don’t test themselves; they dont stay around said addiction to see if they can restrain themselves.

and so suna moves out, running from the place that you’ve drenched in your presence.

he leaves the polaroid picture on the table.

[endless-symphonia]

Noriaki Kakyoin Analysis + Appreciation Post

Warning: Unmarked spoilers ahead, read at your own risk!

Heya, it’s your girl here. Kakyoin’s been my favourite JJBA character for a while and I was thinking about him this morning, so I figured I should write something on him to spread my love and complete admiration for this man. This might be a pretty long post since I plan to write a detailed breakdown on him and how he was portrayed in the story but either way I hope you Kakyoin kinnies enjoy this one. :)

Appearance

Kakyoin is definitely one of the most attractive men I have ever seen. His features are absolutely dazzling and don’t fail to amaze me. My favourite is probably his lustrous purple eyes and cherry red locks, both of which are natural. His looks are absolutely stunning and add more reason as to why I fell for this man.

His overall bodily structure is generally more feminine then masculine, having a slim waistline, large chest and hips and slender legs. I often like imagining an alternate universe where Kakyoin is portrayed as female.

The way he communicates is also generally more effeminate then masculine. It has been said that Kakyoin utilises ‘gendered language’ and utilises a softer Japanese dialect and speech patterns more typically associated with women, which is commonly referred to as ‘onna kotoba’ (女言葉, “women’s words”).

Analysis

Kakyoin was a quiet, introverted individual who usually kept to himself, though this is obviously prior to him meeting Jotaro and the rest of the Crusaders, which is when he began opening up to others after experiencing love and friendship for the first time. Kakyoin generally maintains a polite and formal behavior, which fits his status as an honor student.

Kakyoin believed only respectable individuals were able to become friends of him, with the Crusaders being the only group he attached himself to. Having distanced himself from people his whole life for being ‘different,’ Kakyoin was truly able to experience true joy with the Crusaders, and those 50 days proved to be the happiest days of his life.

Despite being in isolation his whole life, Kakyoin was able to build a strong bond with the Crusaders, most particularly Jotaro. We are able to see that friendship is something that Kakyoin values very much. Having looked back on his past actions, Kakyoin vowed to change into someone who could protect the people he cared for and become someone who people could look up to.

Kakyoin was a kind soul, willing to put others before himself. He was willing to do all he could to protect his friends whom he loved so dearly. In Chapter 55 of Stardust Crusaders (episode 19 in the anime), Kakyoin was faced with Death 13, and from there we were able to see that Kakyoin was willing to go as far as make a fool of himself just to protect his friends from harm.

Later on, in Chapter 254 of SC (episode 46 in the anime), Kakyoin loses his life at the hands of DIO, and during his final moments, he chose to use the last embers of his strength to inform his friends of DIO’s stand ability to prevent them from being killed, with him eventually dying due to blood loss, not knowing whether or not his friends would survive. Personally I believe that though his death was heartbreaking, Kakyoin had really played his part as a member of the Crusaders well. Throughout the duration of the series he remained a strong and confident figure even in moments of despair.

It has always amazed me how much Kakyoin grew as a character as the story progressed. He was such an important part of the Crusaders and I can’t imagine the group without him. Kakyoin deserved so much more then what he was given, and he definitely deserved to see another day instead of spending his last few breaths dying at the hands of DIO.

When Kakyoin first appears, he is under control by DIO’s flesh bud, and after being saved from death by Jotaro, he begins to see everything in a new light, after which he joins the Crusaders on their journey to Egypt, remaining a loyal, kind and compassionate friend throughout the journey.

During his first fight with Tower of Grey, we already see that Kakyoin is a confident and merciless fighter. Kakyoin is shown to be violent and ruthless when faced with enemy Stand users, shown when he remorselessly kills all of his opponents (with the exception of Mannish Boy), his reasoning being that they are evil beyond redemption. We also see that he is the most quick-thinking out of the entire group, shown when he effectively takes out both Tower of Grey and later on, Death 13. 

Kakyoin is a righteous though blunt individual, being extremely loyal to his companions and ruthless to his opponents. Kakyoin has also displayed himself to be manipulatively charismatic around opponents, shown with his fight with Jotaro. He can also be quite cold and prideful, and is also noted to be stern and blunt. 

Kakyoin states his reasons for joining the Crusaders is due to fighting evil, but also as a way of thanking Jotaro for saving his life. From this we see Kakyoin is a fearless individual, being able to stand strong even in the most dire of situations, even when DIO’s stand, The World had willingly punched through his abdomen.

Appreciation Post

Kakyoin is definitely a character that deserved way more than what he was given. I would have loved to see what Araki would do with him if he had survived his fight with DIO. A fair amount of people I’ve met appreciate Kakyoin, but personally I think that appreciation isn’t enough. Part 3 really wouldn’t be the same without him, and Kakyoin deserves to be more widely recognised for his actions.

A lot of people have claimed that they see themselves in Kakyoin, and I have to admit that I myself do too. A lot of aspects surrounding Kakyoin are things I have personally experienced and relate to, and that’s one of the many reasons why I love him and think he’s amazing.

Kakyoin is the kindest soul I have ever come across. He was willing to throw his life away just to protect someone he barely even knew, and went on that journey to Egypt with the people he loved the most. With the people who truly accepted him for who he was. He died without any regrets, and during those last moments he didn’t think of himself, or about his life back at home. Instead, he thought about the people he went on this journey with and swore to protect, and that’s something I truly find respectable and admirable.

Kakyoin spent so many years wondering the meaning of his life. He spent so long refusing to reach out to anyone, living his life in isolation. It’s satisfying to think that during his final days he finally found the meaning to his life, and it melts my heart to know that along with that discovery he found happiness.

All he ever wanted was to make his friends happy. All he ever wanted was to make them proud, and he did. He fought with all he had, not knowing whether or not he would survive. But he knew that important people were waiting for him to return, and that’s what pushed him forward. He fought for his friends harder than anyone would have ever fought for anything. 

17 years of loneliness and 50 days of friendship. And if you were to ask him, ‘Was it worth it?’

I'm pretty sure he’d say yes.

- izzy

[yourfangirlfriend]

It’s Nothing Serious - Chapter Six

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Five and a Half

A/N: idk if this is good but I’ve been putting off writing it and perfect is the enemy of done so here you go, I had fun

It’s not not serious.

At least, this seems to be the mutual conclusion you have both silently reached after that weirdly intimate night you never talked about, either.

And yes, you’re aware of how childish that is.

For two people voluntarily living in one of the more dangerous cities on the continent, it turns out you’re both pretty cowardly. But why put yourselves through the agony of all that when you could both instead play a game of emotional chicken to test where the boundaries are?

You go first the morning the two of you wake up in your bed. You both woke up in a tangle of limbs and slid out of bed after the second snooze alarm went off. He had just pulled on his jeans when he reached for the shirt you had folded the night before.

“Wait,” you said. You walked to the closet and pulled a crisp black shirt off its hanger, continuing to brush your teeth and you walked up and deposited it in his hand. “I washed this after you let me wear it home.”

That night we made pasta and I spilled sauce on my shirt and you took it off and fucked me in your kitchen until the chicken burnt-

He looks up at you, his eyebrows raised.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head before pulling it over his shoulders. “Thank you.”

You give him a look before dipping into the bathroom to spit.

After a quick cup of coffee, you’re both striding towards your door when you stop short. He turns and looks at you, waiting for you to take another step and flick the deadbolt. Instead, you ask

“Are you going to be okay? Today, I mean. With...”

His face falls a little, like he was expecting to get out of this without you mentioning it. It makes your heart hurt.

“I’m fine,” he says, curtly. He drops his head to look at his shoes. You swallow.

“So...drinks tonight? Still?” You reach out and bop his hand with yours.

“Not if you don’t open the door.”

You roll your eyes, walking forward and flicking the bolt. You pull the door open and he catches it, holding it back for you as you take the first step out.

“...yeah. I’ll be back around 6,” he says as you finish locking the door. You drop the keys in your purse, straightening up as the two of you walk towards and out the doors.

“Bar or your place?”

“Mine.”

“You sure? It’s my turn to buy,” you say.

“No, it’s not,” he says as he opens the passenger door for you, gesturing that you climb in. You do and watch as he walks around the front to his side. “Besides, mines quieter.”

You nod, staring forward as he starts the car and pulls into the street. Like every morning, his hand falls to your knee and you feel content with his answer.

You can’t help yourself, though, when he pulls up in front of the school and parks, waiting for you to climb out. Usually, it’s a pretty quick, platonic affair- a quick “thanks, Javi” before you open the door and swing your legs out. This morning, though,

“You know,” he says when you reach for the handle. “You...you don’t have to take care of me.”

You drop your hand before turning back to face him. And maybe it’s the coffee you drank took quickly, or maybe it’s the way last night is still lingering in your head, but

“I like taking care of you.”

You reach out and pull his face to yours, letting the kiss linger before pulling away.

“See you tonight,” you said, flashing him a quick smile. If you’re not mistaken, you see the corner of his mouth twitch up before he remembers himself, and gives you a cool masculine nod. You climb out and watch as he drives away before you hear behind you:

“¿Es tu novio?”

You turn around and see three little girls from your class huddled together and giggling that they just caught the teacher doing something naughty. Despite yourself, you smile through your teacher's voice.

“Entrad, niñas. La clase está a punto de empezar.”

He makes the next move when he shows up outside the school, waiting against his car when you walk out that afternoon and he flags you down.

“Hey,” he says when you approach his car.

“Hey,” you say. “What’s up?”

“Was told to go home early,” he says. “Figured...” he waves his hand up, gesturing to you. “You got plans?”

“Was just going to swing by the liquor store. For tonight.”

“It’s not your turn to buy,” he says, moving out of the way so you can open the door. You send him a look.

“It’s the 90s. Let a girl buy you a drink, Javi.”

He smiles, and over his shoulder, you see one of the girls from this morning- Cara - sending you a shit-eating grin.

Despite yourself, you give her a little wave as Javi drives the two of you out of the parking lot.

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

It becomes a game after that. He picks you up from school. You ask him to stay the night again, and he does. The next morning, he kisses you goodbye in front of Steve, whose eyebrows you see pop up from the corner of your eye. That night, you stay over at his and leave the spare toothbrush you brought next to his in the bathroom. The next day, he comes to your house with take-out and a tape and the two of you fall asleep on the couch, drunk and full. Soon, you don’t remember a night where you aren’t sleeping in the same bed or whose turn it is to initiate a sleepover. You just meet at your smoking spot and then, inevitably, one of you will lead the other to their door for the night, and inevitably, the other one will stay.

The small reminders of each other begin to pile up in your respective apartments. A mystery toothbrush appears in your bathroom. Then there’s a jacket and two of his shirts hanging in your closet. A drawer in his bathroom slowly begins to fill with evidence of your presence- hair ties, bobby pins, the odd bit of makeup. During one of your drunk nights, when you are once again lamenting the lack of decoration, you draw a stick-figure portrait of the apartment - you, Javi, Steve, and the creepy silent man who you only ever see leave his place to buy fish - and tape it to his fridge. He tells you you hang around kids too much, but every time you come back, it’s still up.

Then the bigger things happen. You go to dinner with him and Steve. You bring him on a double date with Alessa and Frankie. He kisses you goodbye in front of the school every morning, and you reach out and hold his hand whenever the two of you walk outside- which you do now, by the way. You walk to the grocery store, you walk to the liquor store, you walk to the corner store to buy pre and post-coital smokes, and every time his hand finds yours. You’re still having sex, you still fuck, but now, sometimes, to what would once be your disgust, it’s slower. Softer. There’s eye contact and prolonged kisses and caressing and very little hair pulling.

And god. Now there’s cuddling.

You no longer sit across the sofa to hanger a drink. No, now your legs are in his lap or his arm is around your shoulder or some other horribly intimate design the two of you just naturally find yourself falling into whenever you’re in proximity. Now, after sex, he’s pulling you to him or you’re pulling him to you or you just both mutually descend towards each other. And when you’re all wrapped around each other, the worst thing of all happens. He talks.

It’s not like you hadn’t talked before. You were friends, after all. He already knew about your kids you taught, your parents, and some random, funny stories about your life. In turn, he had told you some stories about his mom, about the ranch, and about the people in his life. But now it’s different. Now, whenever you two are alone in the dark, bodies pressed against each other under the sheet with such softness it’s grotesque, the walls come down. He tells you about his mom's death, and how he didn’t cry for months. He tells you how afraid he is of himself, and how he worries she would hate the person he is. He tells you he doesn’t think he’s a good person, because of the women he’s hurt ( -“The DAY of?” “I’m not proud of it”-) and the people he failed (“-supposed to get her out, keep her safe, and I couldn’t-“) and how, though he won’t go into detail about it, he’s worried how numb he’s become to things, and that he’s only going to get number (“-you see so many people die, there’s got to be a point you just stop feeling that, like self-preservation, and that’s fucking scary-“). You listen. You think you may be the first person who has listened in a while. When he tries to apologize, that he shouldn’t have said that or that he’s a mopey sad sack or you don’t want to hear this, you kiss his hands.

“Javi,” you tell him. “I like listening to you. Anything you have to say.”

Looking back, you think the look he gives you the first time you said that was when you really knew. But now, you’re still playing dumb. You both are.

What’d he call it? Self-preservation?

To pay him back, you tell him about you. You try to match his scars, telling him about growing up in a loud, weird house you’d only learn at the age of fifteen was a commune. You tell him about all the times you caught your parents tripping out naked on drugs and having to drag them to bed, or how you had to watch your sister for days on end as a kid whenever they decided to go out on ‘spirit walks’, and how you eventually enrolled yourself in school after your mothers homeschooling attempts fell to the wayside. That one time when you were six and accidentally took a tab of acid your mother and father’s sometime lover, Sunshine, left on top of your peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  You try and tell him the good things, too- how you speak five languages (��what?” “English, Spanish, German, Russian, and some Chinese.” “...what?” “My parents were communists!”), how you used to be really good at gymnastics (“is that why you can’t do a handstand?” “I can do a handstand-“ ), and the things in yourself that you’re afraid of- your denial, your anxiety, your bad habit of never calling your sister back and how that actually reveals you’re a sociopath. And in turn, he listens. He squeezes your hand. He asks you questions when you know he wants to and lets it be silent when you can’t bring yourself to answer.

About three months into this, you find yourself lying on your side one night, staring at his beautiful, stupid, snoring face as he drools against your pillow, and for the first time, you finally, finally, finally let yourself admit it.

It is serious.

---

“Well no shit.”

You scowl at Lisa over your glass.

“What? Like we all didn’t already know? For months?”

“Leave her alone,” Alessa elbows her. “I think it’s sweet.”

“You think everything’s sweet.” Lisa rolls her eyes. “You tell him yet?”

You bite the inside of your lip and look down at your drink. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Timing?”

“You spend all your time together.”

You shake your head, taking a swig.

“Coward.”

“What!”

“I said you’re a coward,” Lisa says as Maritza deposits the tray of shots between the two of you.

“Who’s a coward?” she asks sweetly.

“Eloise.”

“Yeah, I am,” you reach forward and take two of the shot glasses, snatching the one in front of Lisa before downing it.

“Hey!” She yelps.

You flip her off and down the second.

She huffs. “Bitch.”

You shake your head and march towards the bar to order another tray.

----------

To be fair, he knew it would be like this.

He had to. It’s you. It’s both of you. Two weirdly cagey people who don’t like having their guard down and never, ever want to be the one person who sticks themselves out for ridicule. The little dares over the past few months have been one thing, like you’re placing pebbles on a scale, seeing how long it takes until it collapses under the weight. Nightly sleepovers? Pebble. Toothbrushes? Pebbles. Sharing childhood trauma after a round of particularly kinky sex where you had your hands tied to the headboard and it inadvertently reminded you of the time you got your hands stuck in some old handcuffs your sister and you had found and you had to spend three hours with your hands looped around a bed frame because Tanya was seven and when she found your mom they were high on peyote and it turns out it takes five drugged-out hippies to find a tiny pair of keys to free a small girl in the woods after it’s already gotten dark and then he told you about the time his uncle had drunk too much shiner and tried to shoot an apple off his cousins head with a BB gun but missed and now the cousin has one eye kind of like Lorenzo and then you both chain-smoked cigarettes and wondered what a glass eye feels like - alright. Maybe five pebbles.

But...actually saying it?

Stones. Big, ugly stones. The kind that fall on cars.

No wonder you got shit-faced.

“Javvvvvvvi,” you sang through his door. You pounded out the melody that only made sense in your head. “Heyyyyy,”

You hear footsteps approaching from the other side and you stand up straight, ready to drunkenly seduce him with your pose when the door swings open and-

“Can I help you?” She asks, annoyed.

You take the woman in front of you in. She’s tall, with long honey blonde hair that falls across her shoulders. Her waist is bared under the halter top she wears, and you’re only a little jealous of the toned plane of her stomach and the long legs that stretch out from her short shorts.

“I...” you start.

“What are you doing? Get away from the door!” Javi appears from behind her, reaching out to take her arm and pull her back. His eyes fall on you, though, and he drops his hand.

“El- hey- I thought you were-?”

“I was...what uh,” you raise your hand to the woman. “What the fuck?”

“Who the fuck are you?” The woman hisses back. Javi reaches up and takes her arm, pulling her back gently.

“I told you not to answer the door-“

“No, I think I’ll leave-“ you toss your hands up. “Enjoy your night.”

“She’s not- it’s not like that-”

“OH PLEASE, I wasn’t born yester-“

The door behind you opens, and the two or you swivel you hear to see Steve enter holding two bags of food. He looks between you and Javier, then to the door.

“Hey,” he says finally.

You give him a pathetic wave. He waves back before turning to Javi.

“Is she-“

“Yeah,” Javier says. He points to his apartment “Could you actually-?”

“Yeah,” Steve nods a bit too quickly, moving behind him and disappearing into the apartment, closing the door behind him.

Javier turns back to you.

“She needs a place to stay before we move her. I was going to tell you when you got back.”

“Ohhhhhhh,” you draw out. You grimace, before looking back to him. “...Sorry.”

“You really think I’d do that?”

You open your mouth to answer before he cuts in again.

“Are you drunk?”

“I-“ you start before huffing. Fucking cop. “Yes! Of course I’m drunk! It’s tequila night! I even, kindly, I might add,” you reach in your bag and pull out the bottle you picked up on the way home. “Got some for you, too!”

“Who did you think she was?”

“Javi-“ you groan, squeezing your eyes shut. This wasn’t supposed to be your night. Tonight was supposed to be about getting drunk with your friends, then getting drunk with Javi, then having drunk sex on your couch loud enough the upstairs fish guy would have to bury his head in what you only assumed was a pile of rotting fish carcasses in his trash to drown out your moans.

Now it’s this.

You shake your head and nod to your door, beckoning him to follow. It’s tense, and he watches over your shoulder as your hands shake trying to pull the right key. Once you manage to unlock the door, you hurry inside and deposit your things on the table, before turning back and facing him.

You open your mouth to say something-

-and then shut it again. You sigh.

“You thought I was sleeping with her.”

You snap your head back up to see him, cross-armed in front of you. You shake your head.

“This isn’t fair, I’m drunk. You’re not.”

He walks over to the bag you threw on the couch and unscrews the bottle you brought home. He takes a swig, holding eye contact as he gulps a third of the small bottle down, all while you watch flabbergasted.

“Say it,” he says, screwing the cap back on.

“You’re going to be sick-“

“Eloise.”

“Well, it’s not like we’ve talked about it!” You snap. “We never- said! What we’re doing!” You drop your hands to your side and turn, walking to the kitchen and leaning forward onto the counter. Javi follows you up, eying you.

“You thought I was, though?”

“Yes! No? I don’t know!” You bring a hand to your face. “I don’t know. Maybe. I just got scared. I guess...I’ve been scared? Lisa thinks so, the bitch-“

“Scared of what? Me sleeping with someone else?”

“No! Not- necessarily-“

“You really think- Jesus, it’s like we never-“

“Hey, don’t!” You spin to face him. “Don’t turn this around on me. You never brought this up. We haven’t talked about this. We talked about everything else and are doing everything else like dinner dates and sweet sex and fucking movie nights but we haven’t...said anything! Saying things matters!”

He stares at you.

“I didn’t think it did! I thought I was fine with just...letting...ugh!” You bring the heels of your palms to your eyes. “I shouldn’t have done that last shot.”

“Eloise, what are you-“

“I’m not a coward!” You point at him. “I’m not! I’m just- it’s just-“

“No one said you were!”

“Lisa did!”

“Why?”

“Because I haven’t...Ugh! They really make strong drinks at that bar! Because I haven’t said-“

“Jesus Christ, WHAT.”

Ooh, you wish you could just fall apart and have him see what’s running through your mind right now. You feel the anger in your stomach bubble. He’s really annoyed with you for thinking the worst of him, and maybe he has a right, but you two haven’t talked about it. You had just assumed- assumed he felt the same way, assumed the little intimacies have built up in such a way that you had something real and concrete, and especially that you both weren’t fucking other people. But the second she opened the door it felt like your worst fear had come true: you were the idiot who had let their guard down first and got hurt, because they were too stupid to realize what this was, and you couldn’t even be mad. Because you hadn’t talked about it. Because he never technically said he was with you.

But now he’s looking like he’s feeling the exact same way, only he’s the idiot. He’s the idiot for confiding in you and crying on your tits and telling you all those fears and worries and believing you when you kissed his hands and told him you thought he was a good man. He’s worried that you’ve always seen him this way- as the guy who would cut and run and betray you, and maybe if you think that, then it’s true. Maybe he was kidding himself into thinking someone like you could believe in his goodness, after all he’s done.

Fuck, you may be drunk but it does make you insightful.

It may be too late though. Because he’s dropped his hands from his hips, tired of waiting for an explanation. He’s making towards the door, murmuring something about having to work and it all just seems like it’s slipping out of your fingers like you can see he’s building up the wall again and this time you’re not going to be able to tear it down-

“Javi,” you say, your voice strained. He stops and turns to you, and you know you only have a few seconds to do it. You try and form the words, but your tongue isn’t working and maybe Lisa was right, maybe you are a coward, but you have to try.

“I like taking care of you.” You say, pathetically, dropping your hands to your sides.

A beat passes. He brings his hands to his hips, waiting for a further explanation. You sigh and walk down to stand in front of him. “I like having you take care of me...and...I haven’t wanted to tell you, because I don’t want to scare you but maybe that’s just me ‘projecting’ or whatever Alessa said. She’s really annoying now that she’s doing that psychology class-“

“El.” He says, not without softness. You feel his fingers come under your chin, gesturing for you to look up at him.

This wasn’t the plan. This was supposed to be a hookup. Then a friendship. You don’t want to lose that.

But now he’s staring down at you like that, and your drunk brain is turning over itself as you think maybe that train has already left. Maybe it left a long fucking time ago, and the two of you have just been hanging onto the back, waiting for the other person to let go first.

But you don’t want to let go. You never really did. You were just waiting for him to give you a sign so you could make it look like you were jumping off together instead of you pathetically holding on as he disappears behind you.

But from the way his thumb traces your jaw and his other hand reaches forward to take your hand in his, you think maybe he’s been utilizing the same strategy, and he’s been just as scared as you.

Well, now you can either let go or try to pull yourself up.

So.

Are you a coward or not?

He wets his lips before his eyes drop. He looks defeated. And at that moment you decide – fuck it.

Between the gymnastics and dragging your high parents to bed and all this fucking holding you’ve been doing inside of you, you’ve got strong enough arms.

So.

Fuck it.

“El, I don’t-“

“I love you,” you say without thinking. “And yes I’m tequila drunk, but I don’t think that takes away from-“

You’re stopped as he leans forward and presses his lips to yours, cutting you off. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him in closer and deepening the kiss. You feel him pulling at your top and you shimmy it off and over your head, tossing it to the side before dipping your hands down and unbuckling his belt as he unbuttons his shirt before you. You drop your hand down the front of his pants, jerking him softly as he moans into your mouth. You feel him guiding you to the couch, and when the back of your knees hit the arm you drop down and begin to pull his pants down for him as he rids himself of his shirt. You’re about to take him in your mouth when he pushes you down, your back hitting the cheap leather as he crawls over you, pulling your skirt up to your hips. He pauses.

“You always skip the underwear in girls' night?”

“Only when I’m coming back to you.”

That gets him, because a second later he’s between your legs, thrusting inside of you. You let out a cry and drop your head back, exposing your neck to him as he continues to pump into, his hands reaching behind and you and grabbing a fistful of your hair.

“Say it again,” he says.

“I don’t wear underwear-“

“No,” he growls, dropping his hand down between your legs to play with you. You let out another little cry.

“I love you,” you say. “I-I’ve loved you for a long time- ahhh!” The next thrust hits a little too well. “Ah, fuck, Javi- right there-“

“Keep going-“

“YOU keep going- fuck, has your dick gotten bigger?”

“El-“ he lets out a moan. Taking advantage of the moment, you slip out from under him and switch positions, pressing him back onto the couch and climbing atop of him. His hands settle on your hips as you ride him, pulling sounds from him that echo around your living room. When you cum he’s not long after, and the two of you collapse onto each other, breathing heavily as you come down with his hand holding the back of your neck.

“Hey,” he says finally. You lift your head and sit up, looking down at him. His eyes are glassy, and the look on his face makes you giggle.

“Are you drunk?”

“Yes,” he says. “But a wise woman once said that doesn’t take away from what I have to say.”

“She sounds smart, you should fuck her,” you say, moving to stand. He catches your wrist, pulling you back down onto his lap with a bounce.

“Give a girl a few minutes before round two-“

He cuts you off with a kiss. It’s slow and soft and you melt into it. The way you always melt into him.

When he pulls away, you chase after his grinning lips. He brings a hand to the side of your face, tracing his fingers down the side of your cheek.

“I love you, too.” He says. “I don’t know what that’s worth…but I do.”

You lean in, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck.

"Baby," you say "It's worth everything."

In the morning, you’ll have to contend with the knowing look Steve gives the two of you before asking “Good night?”, a joke that earns him a look from Javi and a deep blush and muttered apology from you. You’ll have to put up with the squeals from Maritza, Lisa, and Alessa when you tell them in the staff room during lunch. You’ll even get a look from your upstairs neighbor when you pass him and his fresh fish that next afternoon.  Most of all, you’ll have to consider what the fuck this means for you and Javi and this scary, exhilarating little life you’re leading.  

But.

Right now, you’re naked and smoking a cigarette on the couch with the man you love who loves you back, and you’re both laughing, and that's more than enough.

taglist: @fuckoffbard

[pomegranates-and-blood]

νοσταλγία (Chapter 40)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: The usual, alcohol abuse (sort of)

A/N: Second part of today’s update! It was originally just one chapter, but it fit to put them apart.

You can find the other part of today’s update, Chapter 39, right here

When you go into the main hall later that night, a call of your name in a voice you know by heart diverts your attention from anything else.

You answer Ivar’s call and stand next to him, nodding distractedly at the thrall that offers you wine. She scurries off to fetch you some, and a memory you long since believed lost comes to the front of your mind.

“Drink,” Sieghild tells you, offering you a cup. You take it between shaking fingers, and the shieldmaiden looks back ahead, in the direction of the grave. “That is how we mourn. We drink.”

You cannot keep the snide tone from your voice as you sit next to her, “Ah, you Vikings and your celebration of death.”

“You worship the Gods of the Underworld, little one,” She states without missing a beat, lifting the goblet of wine to her lips. She looks at you out of the corner of her eye, a silent command you do the same. You sip from the sweet drink, but your throat still feels tight, and your hands still shake. Sieghild clears her throat, “We rejoice when someone sups in Valhalla even if that means they aren’t with us, true. But we are people just like yours, little one, we all suffer at the loss of someone we love,” She takes another sip of the wine, green eyes stuck on the hill that now bears the grave of a mother and her child. “Drinking the way we do for those who are gone from our side, it isn’t as a celebration, it is coated in despair, in pain, as much as your own rituals. We drink because we want to…to be…”

“Numb?”

Your mother chuckles, “Maybe, but we are too proud to call it that.”

Still, you don’t feel like mourning, you don’t feel like this is grief. It feels like death, like a descent, like rebirth; but to you none of that means grief.

Ivar distracts you from your morose thoughts with hands on your hips. He looks up at you with a smile that is a tad more vibrant than usual.

“Tell Ubbe about the…the…” His brows furrow in a gesture you cannot help but find utterly adorable. “C-Chi-la…”

Ivar’s eyes search your as if you are supposed to know what he is trying to say.

Your eyes narrow, but you think you know what he means, and try, “Chiliarchiai?”

Ivar nods, smiling up at you as his hand on your waist moves further down and back, almost groping your ass before you stop him with your hand over his and a silent glare of reprimand that he only grins at.

“Tell him about them.” He insists, a liveliness in his voice you heard only scarce times before. Ivar motions with his head towards his brother, making your eyes slowly leave him to focus on Ubbe.

The eldest prince already has eyes on the both of you, and when you look at him, he lingers on looking between you and his brother before giving you his attention, leaning back on his seat.

Taking a seat next to Ivar and hoping you are subtle in the way you press close to him to dispel the cold, you start explaining, gesturing with your hands as you point out the different parts of the Byzantine army, and how they fight back in the Mediterranean.

Ubbe’s eyes stay on yours, and he leans his weight forward, blue eyes piercing as he tries taking in what you are saying. Eventually, he clears his throat to stop you.

“You are using a lot of words, and I don’t know the meaning to most of them.” Ubbe interrupts, a slight apology behind his tone. You nod, eyes searching the nothing ahead as you try putting a definition behind the words in your own tongue.

“The Skoutatoi are…warriors.”

“They all are, love.” Ivar interrupts, a mocking smile that he hides behind the rim of his cup when you turn to glare at him.

Ignoring his words, you explain further, “They carry shields and use either spears or longswords.”

Ubbe lifts a hand to point at you, as if to indicate he’s figured something out.

“Yes, we saw them. You formed a shield wall with warriors with spears in Dublin.”

“Yes, that was a phalanx, but we could never be as efficient as the Byzantines. For the Empire’s armies it is easy to lead and to hold on to plans, but for us…if we didn’t have Narses it wasn’t so easy to hold formations.”

“The commander?” You nod your head, wondering when you stopped feeling the weight of grief and guilt when thinking or talking about him. “They all fight like him in your homeland?”

You chuckle with a shake of your head, noting the awe and wonder in Ubbe’s tone, “No, he is-…he was one of the best.”

“Was he famous?”

“Something like that. It is said he was a descendant of Theseus, one of the greatest heroes in our history.”

“That’s the bride stealer, is it not?” Hvitserk questions, to which you frown. He makes a vague gesture with his hand, and insists, “You told me about him, he stole from one of your Gods.”

“He didn’t steal, he tried to,” You correct, your chest oddly warm at the fact that he remembers. “He tried stealing Lord Hades’ wife, and thus was punished. But no man, not even Theseus, could steal from a God, least of all the King of the Underworld.”

Shortly after the conversation goes on to other topics, topics that do not feel any less yours than those of your Gods and heroes, even if these are of the realms neighboring Kattegat or their plans across the sea.

And as he talks and argues with his brothers, you take to watching the man you married.

He always was an expressive man. With his hands, with his gestures, with his voice. When you first met you were endlessly enthralled by the movements of his hands and the tells of the furrow of his brow or the narrowing of his eyes; and in the months that came after you learned to listen for the cues in the cadence of his voice that gave as much away as his gestures did.

But when Ivar…overindulges, it is much more apparent, and you find yourself unable to look away. His hands gesture much more wildly, every inch of his face gives away more emotion and more expression, and even his voice is much livelier.

And, more than anything, you notice the way he touches you isn’t so laced by the need to show or display something, by the intent to keep up a façade or an act. Instead, it feels much softer, much more honest, much more him; the way he lays a hand on your leg -though you find yourself having to lay yours over it to stop him from trailing too high up-, the way he grasps your hand and plays with your fingers, the way when he talks to you he leans closer than he needs to -and maybe trails his cold nose up the side of your neck, chuckling devilishly when he makes you shiver-.

The night goes on, and you cling to each of these new discoveries you make, to each of these little figments you are allowed to be a witness to.

Later, in the relative privacy you can earn as Hvitserk dozes off against Thora’s shoulder and Ubbe watches raptly as two men partake in that strange game you never had the chance to ask about, where they each have a rope around their heads and tug; Ivar demands your attention with a press of his lips on the fingers of the hand he holds in his.

When you turn to him, his serious expression startles you a bit.

“The Greeks, you said they came here. Why?”

“I don’t know,” You tell him, and at the instinctual way he tenses up, as if ready to accuse you of something he knows you won’t do, you look into his eyes and offer a low murmur of, “I don’t lie to you, Ivar.”

His eyes search yours, earning a defeated edge you thought the drinks had successfully chased away.

“I-…a smart thing to do would be to kill them.”

Your heart feels struck by a pang of cold, and you shake your head, “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” He doesn’t hesitate to say, “What if they come back here? What if they call for you again?”

“They have called for me, and I am still here.”

“Because Stithulf is alive.”

“No, bec-…” You start, but Ivar interrupts you, stealing your breath with simple words.

“I let him go.”

And gone is cruelty, gone is the mask. And gone is your softness, gone is the resolve.

You can only look back at him with wide eyes, feeling your breath quicken because there’s a part of you desperate to understand why you are, while surprised, not bothered by the revelation.

Relief and guilt clog your throat, and makes your next words a gasp.

“You what?”

“We captured him. And I let him go.” He explains, as if this is what you were asking for.

“W-Why?”

The smile he offers is a little bit mad, a little bit broken, a little bit helpless.

It’s looking back at the manic resolve in the blue eyes of the man that told you the reward for a lifetime of pain was you, it’s looking back at the defeated slump of his shoulders as he replied ‘Who could?’ when you asked him if he believed you couldn’t love him, it’s looking back at the lost and stunned look in his face as you told him the Greeks were alive.

“Why did you stay?” Ivar asks back, an answer in itself.

You want to step back, you want to accuse him of trying to rob you of your choice, but…you had the chance to make your choice, and you made it. Stithulf’s survival didn’t matter, Ivar letting him go doesn’t matter.

It irks you, and he will definitely hear your thoughts on him trying to cheat his way out of the deal you made, when his eyes are less glossy and your chest less tight with the weight of the choice you made.

First you will tell him of your choice, you know you have to.

But for now, with the taste of mead still heavy on his lips and the feel of guilt still heavy on your heart, you will offer the truths that you can.

“I stayed because I love you,” You tell him, “You said it yourself, Ivar, Stithulf-…it was never the deal we made.”

He searches your gaze, giving away more clearly than he usually does how unmoored he is by your reaction, whether because he expected anger or because of your words, you don’t know.

Still a little lost, he mumbles, “I know.”

____

Later that night, alone in the room you share and ready to sleep off the day that has at the same time been familiar and completely new, you walk up to Ivar where he sits on your bed and after he undoes the laces of your dress work the jacket off his shoulders.

“Did you know my whole family is descended from the All-Father?” He asks you, and you only answer with a thoughtful sound as you then focus on the brace of his broken leg, choosing to take it off yourself, certain you’ll be at least partially more careful than him. Ivar continues, “That’s not just my brothers, that’s me too. I am a descendant of Odin.”

You have no idea what brought this on, and so you only offer a noncommittal answer, not really sure about what to say. You don’t doubt it, your mother always spoke of both Ragnar Lothbrok and the Princess that was a daughter to heroes; spoke of them in such manner, as did the travelers that could recount what was happening in Scandinavia, that you don’t doubt they were something more than just humans.

“That’s better than Theseus.” He comments petulantly, and you cannot help but smile.

“It is,” You confirm, when you move back up to be face to face with him not being able to stop yourself from stealing a kiss. It was intended to be soft, but there’s a biting edge to the way you press your lips to his that surprises you. Voice low, you promise, “Even if it weren’t, you are countless times the man Narses ever was.”

“Hm, am I?”

He is blatantly asking for praise, and if you’re honest with yourself you don’t have the slightest problem indulging him.

“No one compares to you in my eyes, you know that. Do you believe I would have let any other man get away with what you have?”

“Get away? Y-…”

You tug lightly on his hair to silence him, and Ivar complies with a breathed laugh.

“I’m not done,” You chastise, before your voice earns a softer tone as you search his gaze, “You are unlike anyone I ever met, you-…Sometimes I wonder if you were right, after all. When you said the Gods intervened so this could happen, so we could meet.”

“So you admit I was right.”

“No. Because if anything, the Gods sent you to me, not the other way around.”

Maybe he intended for his smile to be a grin, for his expression to drip mirth and the teasing edge you have come to know and love; but all that is left behind is this almost-startled softness, this open stance and vulnerable expression as Ivar gazes into your eyes.

And the smile he offers is lovesick and as lost as yours, making you wonder not for the first time if whatever the Gods made you out of is the same that they made him out of, even if the Gods and the realms and even the two of you are so different from one another.

When Ivar brings you closer and claims your mouth in his, you let him, surrendering and answering his call for you to be closer, pressing close to him as he drops on his back on the bed.

His kiss is hungry, reverent in a way you know by now but still makes a pang of heat travel through you, and his hands are insistent and leaving behind a trail of fire wherever they touch.

It doesn’t help that he has long since discarded his shirt, and the feel of his skin against yours, the feel of him under your hands, leaves you drunk and dazed, much more so than if you had been the one to drink the whole night.

Still, when impatient hands insist you lift the nightgown over your head, you pull away, breaths heavy as your brow presses against his.

“No?”

“No,” You confirm, trying your hardest not to betray a fond smile. “You’re drunk, love. Not tonight.”

His brow furrows, “I’m not drunk.”

Moving to settle against him, your body against his and your mouth unable to resist pressing a few kisses over the ink on his chest, you question idly, “What are you, then?”

His smile softens, so much so and so quickly that it takes you by surprise. Ivar chuckles, hand trailing over your loose hair.

“Last time I asked you that you told me-…do you remember what you told me?”

You nod, leaning more of your weight against him and resting your chin on one of your arms that is draped over his broad chest.

“I told you I was happy.”

His eyes fall closed, but you know he’s still alert. He always is, really.

“And you’re still happy, here with me.”

“I am,” You state, fingers tracing the familiar contour of his face, stopping -as they always do- on the scar on his cheekbone before they continue a trail down, exploring leisurely. Your voice is low, almost a whisper, “I love you, Ivar.”

The only answer he offers is a low hum. He does that a lot more when he’s had plenty to drink, you’ve noticed, but not for the life of you would you ever tell him, mostly out of fear of losing those little content sounds he lets out and probably isn’t even aware of.

“You should tell me that more often,” He states without any preamble, startling you into silence. Ivar opens one eye to look at you, “You once told me if you say things you make them real. You should say you love me more often.”

“You don’t believe it’s real?” You ask, a tug of something that makes your chest feel a little tighter.

“I do. I just…” He offers a shrug, lips quirking up in the beginning of a smile.

Your voice earns a teasing edge when you lean closer, lips almost against the skin of his jaw, and ask, “Don’t I make you feel loved?”

And your heart skips a beat at the way you make him shiver.

“Y-You do.” He replies, and it sounds the question surprised him. Or maybe his answer did.

You feel your intent to tease him ebb away, leaving softness and barely anything else behind, and you smile, lips pressing one last kiss against his skin before moving to capture his mouth.

As always, Ivar easily surrenders to the touch of your lips on his, leans into your touch and your kiss with a willingness that sometimes feels jagged with edges of need and desperation.

“I love you,” You promise for good measure, offering a smile and another quick kiss, “Now sleep.”

When you turn around to lay on your side, you feel Ivar do the same, and when you hear him shuffle behind you, you find yourself almost expecting the embrace, or at least the touch of his hand on yours. But no, instead you feel rough fingers running through your hair.

“What are you doing?”

“You should wear braids all the time,” He muses, to himself more than to you, probably. You notice he is parting your hair in three sections, and clumsily braiding it as he lays on his side. Ivar continues, “They make you look like…like you belong here, like you’re mine.”

“I am yours.” You promise, the closest you can get to admitting the truth behind the choice that was never a choice at all, for tonight. When the dust settles you will tell him, but for now, for as long as he is willing to forget spring was ever a possibility, you will indulge, and speak of the passing of the cruel season on another day.

The braid is forgotten for a moment, as Ivar’s hand trails down your side, inching forward at your waist. His fingers stop just shy of between your legs.

“Since you’re mine, I should be allowed to have you.” He teases.

“But you’re also mine.”

His eyes travel to your lips, giving away desire before he even speaks, “Am I?”

“Mhm,” You turn around, seeking his warmth when you nestle closer. You look up at him with a smile that makes his eyes travel to your lips with a want you know well by now, but that still makes your heart quicken. “So, are you saying I too should be allowed to do as I please with you?” You seal your words with a kiss at the place where his collarbones dip, and you barely even have to put any pressure to make Ivar roll on his back once again. Your body pressed against him lets you feel the slight stutter of his breath in each rise and fall of his chest, and it never ceases to make you feel powerful. Keeping your eyes on his, you continue, “Are you saying I too should be allowed to claim what is mine?”

His lips part, eyes widened just slightly, and it is an answer in itself, an answer that makes heat pool low in your belly.

“I am yours.” Is the answer Ivar gives, and you bite your lip to hold back a sound that you are certain would be something between a sigh and a whimper.

“I’ll remember that.” You promise, to which he nods, maybe a little quickly, a little shakily. Settling back against his chest, you close your eyes, and if in your dreams you hear the cry of a hawk, it is quickly chased off by the soothing thrum of his heart under your ear.

____ ____ ____

Thank you so much for reading! Would love to hear your thoughts on this!

Also, I have two things in this chapter that I want to point out: one, the Reader remembers Vikings overindulge in drinking when they mourn, yet she says she doesn’t feel like she lost someone, but the flashback is still there, I wonder why lol (I promise he’ll be less sulky soon); and two, when Ivar replies ‘Why did you stay?’ it could be that she stayed because Stithulf was alive thus his choice to let him go was the right one bc he got to keep her for the winter (which is obviously what he believes), or that his motivation in letting him go was the same as her motivation to tell the Greeks she wouldn’t leave with them, as in, she loves him and wants a life with him (though he has no way of knowing that). There you go, two useless pieces of trivia that aren’t that interesting (or that much of trivia really).

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou @xbellaxcarolinax @pieces-by-me @angelofthorr @samsationalwilson @peachyboneless @1950schick @punkrocknpearls @ietss   @itsmysticalmystery @revolution-starter @chibisgotovalhalla @the-a-word-2214​ @fae-sedai​ @crazybunnyladysworld​   @funmadnessandbadassvikings @stupiddarkkside​  

[logically-asexual]

Hold me like you mean it

summary:

Logan’s feelings for Virgil and the fact that now Virgil barely notices him are stopping him from getting any work done. Janus offers a way for Logan to cope, by disguising himself into Anxiety. but is this really what Logan needs? and what’s in it for Janus, anyway?

alternatively, an angsty story about rejection, denial, and manipulation.

note: this fic is completely written with a total of 9 chapters and 9k words, but I will be posting the chapters every couple days in hopes to build up hype. this is my first time writing something longer than ~1k and also my first time writing in A While. but I tried really hard and I’m very proud of it so I hope you like it.

note 2: please don’t take this as a guide to learn about unhealthy relationships, it's a theme in the story but it’s not meant to be educational in any way.

warnings: (for the whole fic) unrequited love, rejection, manipulation, unhealthy relationships, gaslighting, dependency, dubious consent and non consent for kissing, sad ending, depression (vaguely described), angst in general, nightmares. let me know what else i should add.

Read on AO3

Chapter 1

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words: 1,217

Logan sighed as he tossed another paper ball into the bin. His eyes were starting to burn from the strain, but he was determined to have the plan finished by tomorrow. He had started typing his ideas into his computer, but the light began to hurt as the sky became dark, and he couldn’t risk anyone seeing his room’s light on from the hall, so he had turned on a small lamp and tried again with pen and paper.

He pulled another blank paper sheet and started over. It was kind of ridiculous, when he thought about it long enough, to spend this much time trying to figure out the best way to talk to Virgil in the following days, but he had identified his lack of communication with Anxiety as the most important and urgent issue to resolve in his table of priorities. After all, Thomas had become more anxious in the past weeks. So, in order to be heard, he needed to be able to collaborate with Virgil, which would also keep Thomas’ mind clear and stop him from procrastinating so much.

Another list of ideas had almost filled the page when Logan was startled by a knock on his door, followed by the sound of his pencil dropping to the floor. He hurriedly turned the paper over, stood up, and went to open the door, hoping to end whatever interaction that was about to happen as soon as possible. He was surprised to find Janus standing on the other side. At least it wasn’t Virgil, but Logan knew either of them could easily detect the smallest sign of nervousness, and Logan was definitely nervous. It was late and he shouldn’t be working.

“Good evening Janus, is there anything I can do for you?” Logan greeted from where he stood, poking his head out of the barely open door. The sooner this conversation ends, the better, he repeated to himself. His hand tightened around the doorknob as he waited for Deceit to say something, while the other was staring at him with a slightly amused look on his face.

Just when Logan was about to tell the other to stop wasting his time, Janus spoke. “I came here to ask for your opinion on an idea I had, but I can tell you’re trying to hide something,” he said as he crossed his arms and looked into what was visible of Logan’s room, before turning his gaze back into Logan’s eyes. “So spit it out already.”

Logan glanced quickly towards the papers on his desk and back at Janus with an expression as neutral as he could manage. “I am trying to hide the fact that I am working late at night, because I must be an example to the rest of the Sides and keep a strict, healthy schedule to encourage them to do the same. Happy?”

“Of course.” Janus said, apparently satisfied, but he only gave Logan a second to feel relieved before he pushed past him into his room. He walked directly towards his desk and, out of all the objects laying on it, he picked up the one Logan dreaded the most.

Janus looked the paper sheet over as a wide grin formed on his face. Then, he held it high and began reading out loud. “Strategic Plan to Communicate Effectively with Anxiety. Updated version 5.2. Step one: approach Virgil (gently) after our next discussion and point out the arguments he made that were helpful. Step tw-”

“That’s enough.” Logan interrupted, as he snatched away the paper. “What do you want?”

“Oh you know me, I just love it when you all insist on hurting yourselves and Thomas in the name of irrelevant lies.” Janus said with a sarcastic tone, increasing Logan’s discomfort. He continued, with a mocking smile. “If you’re going to hide things, I’d prefer you do it for something useful instead of some crush.”

Logan blinked rapidly and felt heat rising to his face. “What? What are you talking about?” He took a moment to look at Janus’ unimpressed expression, while he pieced together what the other Side was implying. “You think I have a crush on Virgil? No, no. See, I have a table of problems that hinder my productivity and therefore Thomas’ that I need to address and lately Virgil hasn’t been listening or interacting at all with me, which has stopped any of my other projects from being considered, so the most logical solution is to fix that as soon as possible through effective communication with him.” He had to take air in once he finished his explanation, realizing he had uttered it all in one breath. He watched expectantly as Janus raised an eyebrow.

“Right...” Janus said, as he once more took the paper from Logan’s hand. “And what role exactly do Step six, “partake in movie nights when Virgil chooses the film,” and Step eight, “stand closer to his position on the stairs when the twins are making him uneasy” play into this… productivity thing?” Before Logan could defend his reasoning, Janus went on, now with a slightly softer expression. “Listen, Logan. I know you have a selfish motive behind this, you don’t have to hide that from me. I’m not Patton. I won’t judge you.”

Logan swallowed, embarrassed to admit this feeling, both to himself and to Janus, and replied with a whisper. “I just… miss him, and I want us to be friends again.”

“Is that all?”

Logan nodded, looking down at his shoes. After a moment, he added “we used to understand each other well, and I had an easier time working then, with him, with the rest of the Sides, and by myself.”

“Very well. If that’s the case, I think I can help.”

With the intention to ask what kind of help he meant, Logan turned his gaze back up, only to be shocked by the sight of Virgil standing in front of him. He inhaled sharply and took a step back, not moving his eyes from Virgil’s tilted smile. Once his mind caught up with what happened and what was being offered to him, he immediately refused. “No, Janus.” (Saying the name out loud helped him remind himself who really was in front of him) “I want to make things right with the real Virgil. Staying in denial and pretending things are fine won’t help anyone.”

“But it will help you, L.” He heard in Virgil’s low voice, but with Janus’ usual intonation, it didn’t match well. “You said yourself that you can’t get any work done because your mind is occupied with missing me. This way you can work on our relationship while taking the edge off.” Janus took a step towards him and put his hand on Logan’s shoulder.

Logan considered it for a second, before settling on the same answer. “No. I’m sorry, Deceit, I’ll follow my own strategy.”

Janus’ expression fell, and he shifted back into his usual appearance, but he kept his posture straight and his head high. “Fine, but my offer is still open for whenever you are ready to accept it.” With that last statement, he gave Logan his notes back. Then he walked out of Logan’s room, shutting the door behind him, leaving Logan alone in the dark.

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notes: (yes, i just talk a lot, sorry) welcome to the journey! hope you enjoy :D and if you like it pls leave a comment.

also the title is from Four Tequilas Down by dodie, (which is a big mood for the story)

[theincuhusbands]

The Jealous Cold Shoulder - (James x Reader)

Summary – James has been acting cold and distant towards Y/N and their sick of it. He was their best friend. The one they always wanted to talk to and their determined to get to the bottom of this, Will things get worse if they call him out on it?

Warnings – Strong Language, Fighting, Kissing, Long, Stressed Reader

Word Count – 1963

I smiled as I snuggled into my new fluffy blanket, relishing in its warmth. I had been so stressed out about school lately, I’d barely had a moment to think. Matthew created this blanket for me while I was at school so now, I get to snuggle up in the library and read my favourite book for the billionth time.

When I mentioned that I was going to go read in the library I had hoped that someone would join me… but he didn’t seem interested. Usually, James and I could spend hours in the library by the fire talking about our favourite books or my favourite TV shows, that’s what made me fall head over heels for him. The way he said my name, like sweet honey dripping off his lips, could make me buckle at the knees. His laugh echoing throughout the room filling it beautifully, but recently, it’s as if he’s put off by the thought of spending time with me.

I understand that I might not be the best to be around when I’m stressed but I guess he must be quite stressed too, with the company and all. With all my feelings aside, I miss spending time with him.

I sigh as I flick through the chapters of my book trying to find my favourite one. Today it doesn’t seem to be bringing the usual joy. I eventually find the page and start reading but it doesn’t take long for me to put the book back on the shelf.

I guess just not today…

My attention is quickly drawn to the hall as I see the blurs of Matthew running away from Sam. I giggle as I start to run after them, sliding around corners in my socks to catch up. I eventually catch Sam and lunge for him, jumping onto his back. All three of us laugh as I gently hit Sam on the back.

We snap out of it though as soon as we hear a very annoyed “Ahem.”

I look up to see James standing with a spilt coffee all over his grey jumper. I hear Sam snicker and look to see Matthew trying to hide his smile. I walk over to James and try to take his cup but he yanks it away from me, just spilling more tea onto the floor and himself. “You three should watch where you’re going.” His voice was stern and powerful.

I was used to him telling Matthew and Sam off but he had NEVER spoke to me like that. “Em, what?” James looks down at me with disgust in his eyes. The look shoots right through me making my stomach drop to the floor. That one look made me feel worse than anything anyone’s ever said to me, well maybe besides my father.

“I expected better from you.”

I cross my arms and snort back. “Yeah, well this is my house. I’ll do what I want asshole.”

James looks at me for a second studying my face. I don’t think he was expecting me to say anything back, least of all that. “Your behaving like a little girl. Y/N. What would your grandfather say if he could see you right now?”

I felt blood rush to my face as I took a step back lowering my face to the floor. The venom dripping from his voices cut through me like a knife. The name he used to say so sweetly, now used against me. I felt utterly humiliated. I look to the side to see Sam and Matthew’s faces. Their twisted in anger or mortification… to be honest it could be either. Sam’s fists were balled up. “That’s too far James.”

In that moment something in James’s eyes snapped. His face fell as the realisation sunk in of what he had just said. I felt my eyes start to well with tears and my vision become blurry. I furiously wiped my tears with my sleeve.

“Y/N I-“

“Get away from me!” I lashed out screaming. James tried to step forward to say something but before the words could come out, I cut him off. “Don’t talk to me you bastard!” I quickly turned on my heal, running out of the room as more and more tears fell from my eyes.

I ran to my bedroom and slammed the door shut, sliding down it I sob harder and harder into my hands. What did I do to him?! I hear loud knocking on the door as someone tries the knob. “Your highness? Can I come in?”

There’s no point in punishing Erik… He didn’t do anything wrong. I stand up and open the door, standing back into the middle of my room. Erik comes in quietly and locks the door. When he sees me his face melts. “Highness...”

He sweeps me up into a bear hug, wrapping me tightly in his arms as I sob into his chest. Erik sighs leaning his head on top of mine. “Highness… if your grandfather saw you now… he’d be proud beyond compare! Think of all the things you’ve accomplished!” I sniffle and look up at Erik.

“It’s not even that that bothers me… he knows that stings and he said it anyway… why would he say that though?”

Erik smiles weakly. “Because as smart as my brother likes to think he is. He really isn’t, especially not when it comes to- …”

I look up at Erik puzzled waiting for him to finish his sentence but he never does. “When it comes to?” Erik goes a slight shade of pink probably realising he’s said too much. “You… Highness” I pull back from Erik slightly moving over to sit on my bed. “Me?”

Erik nods as he makes his way over to my nightstand. He picks up a small framed photo of all the boys, Diana, Saero and I at the beach. We’re all laughing and having fun. It’s definitely one of my favourites! And not just because James has his arm around me. “When it comes to you Highness… although it may not seem like it right now… James cares a great deal about you. More than I’ve seen him care about anyone who isn’t one of us…”

“Then why would he-“

“He’s confused. He’s not good at this sort of stuff. I know it’s horrible but just let him work himself out.” Erik sits beside me gently pressing the frame into my hands. I gently run my fingers over James’s face. I nod slowly and Erik leans in to hug me.

-------

By the time seven o’clock rolls around, Sam, Damien and Matthew have all asked me to come down and join them for dinner. Each time I declined though. I have decided to plunge myself back into school work, working on a 5,000-word scripted essay due for next month.

I sit with my headphones on, listening to the new album I bought. I was about half way through it when I felt a gently tap on my shoulder. I turned around taking my headphones off and jumped in surprise to see James.

His face was torn in guilt. His eyebrows were glued together and his eyes were filled with sadness. His hair was slightly messy and ruffled, a really odd thing for the perfectionist. The sight of him almost made me forget all the anger and sadness. Almost.

“What are you doing in here?”

“I knocked but you didn’t answer…”

“Ever think that was because I didn’t want to talk to you?”

It was a lie of course. I had been hoping all afternoon that he would come upstairs so we could get over this. I had been looking over my shoulder every few minutes hoping to see him standing there however, he seemed to have believed me. He sighs and runs his hands through his messy hair. “I… deserved that…”

He walks over to the side of my desk, perching himself on it. “I’m sorry Y/N… I really am… I just got so… angry…”

“but why?” I stood up from my chair looking at his face, hoping for any sign, any hint of an answer. His gaze dropped from my face to the ground at my feet. “Y/N please come down stairs and eat… you shouldn’t have to-“

“Don’t tell me what to do James.” I warn him. Not viciously but with enough warning in there that he knew I was serious. He nods, still refusing to make eye contact with me. This was too strange. I had to know.

“James tell me why you were angry.”

My voice sounded more like a plea than I would have wish but it finally got James to lift his eyes, if only for a moment. “I… if I say- you must promise to eat.” I nod to him sitting on my bed, getting comfortable and preparing for whatever he is about to say. “I was jealous… you were spending time with Sam and Matthew…” I look at him, dumbfounded in shock. He was jealous of Matthew and Sam? I couldn’t help but let out a shocked simple laugh. James looked at me, his face still covered in guilt.

“But you’ve been avoiding-“

And it suddenly clicked. It was a clear as day to me. I could hear Erik’s words ringing in my ears.

James cares a great deal about you, He’s not good at this sort of stuff. 

and now he’s jealous of Sam and Matthew.

Suddenly I became determined. I had to make him say it. Out loud. “And why were you jealous?” He says nothing. He doesn’t move. He’s silent. I look up at him, I can feel my face burning and my fists ball up as I stand on my knees.

“Why?”

“…”

“Say it!”

“I’m in love with you Y/N…”

I sit back down, in stunned silence. He actually said it. I stare at him saying nothing, almost in a hazy daze. He stares back at me, looking almost terrified. “Y/N say something… please…”

“Why?” It’s nothing more than a whisper but it’s all I can manage. I feel tears start to form in my eyes. “Why ignore me? Why say what you did? Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

James shakes his head looking to the ground. “Because I love you and it scares me… Y/N I don’t know what to do. I’ve never felt like this before…”

“Well, me neither.” The tears start to overflow as a couple spill out my cheeks. James looks at me shocked. He walks over to me and kneels in front of my bed to be at my level. He gently lifts his hand to wipe a couple of stray tears. “What did you just-“

I cut him off by grabbing his shirt and pulling him in for a kiss. The kiss is needy and passionate and he responds almost immediately. My hands wonder to his chest as his hands roam up my body and tangle themselves into my hair. I pull him closer to me and toss him onto the bed, climbing on top of him. “I love you too… I don’t know what I’d do without you… please don’t shut me out.”

James shakes his head as he cups my face with his hands. “Not anymore love…” He kisses me again except this time it’s softer, more tender. I lean into it, wanting to be as close to James as possible. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him even closer to me. After a while we pull apart to catch our breath and James’s half-smile makes my heart skip a beat. He’s utterly gorgeous.

“Will you join me for dinner now, Y/N?

My face flushes red as I nod, grinning ear to ear. “I’d love to.”

[bobathirstaccount]

Hard to Find Someone Like You

Boba x fem!reader, slow burn to smut, some romance, fair amount of plot, Post-Mando 2 Boba

You are a merc serving under Fennec at Fett’s Palace. It’s business as usual until a certain helmet starts tilting in your direction...

Translations - Mando’a

Cyar’ika - sweetheart/ darling

Riduur - spouse

Transalation - Twi’lek

keella - sweetheart

TW: unprotected sex

— 2 more chapters —

***

CHAPTER SEVEN

Getting used to your new position at the palace was an ongoing process. The more time you spent standing to Boba’s left, the more people bothered you, looking for favors. Some of the dancers even started to treat you differently. This made you upset; you talked it over with Ayy. “You can’t blame them. You’re a direct line to Boba Fett. And by far the least scary, between you and Fennec.” You considered that. “But I’m a merc in my own right!”

“Not nearly as infamous as Fennec Shand and Boba Fett. You’re the friendly, safe face of the Great Fett.” You glared at her. Dammit. “You can just start giving them ‘the eyes,’ like Fennec does.” You considered, and tried it on Ayy. She smiled, “Keep working on it, keella.” You huffed. “Aside from you pouting over your growing influence, how are things?” She leaned forward, licking her lips. “Girl talk me, keella.” You smiled. She was the only one you tolerated being questioned by. “Good. He... said he was fond of me.”

Ayy spit her drink all over you. You raised both eyebrows, ”Bitch.” She dabbed you with some napkins, “Well don’t do that to me. He’s ‘fond’ of you? I told you he had feelings for you. Can I be at your wedding?”

“Not funny.”

“Just saying... he is pussy whipped,” she pinched your cheeks. “Guess the tales of my escapades came in handy.” You blushed, “Honestly yes. Glad I was half paying attention.” She pinched you. “Well, I should get back to it.” She retreated back to her stage, leaving you with your thoughts.

***

“We’re leaving in 15 minutes, be on the Slave 1,” Fett had burst into the throne room and cornered you and Fennec off to the side. “Din is in trouble.” Fennec’s eyes lit up in recognition. So did yours; you remembered your conversation with the ruler of Mandalore. “I’ll be there.” Fennec dashed off to get ready. You looked up into Boba’s visor. “Is it bad?” He tilted his head towards you and said in a low voice, “Bo-Katan is making a move for power. We will be there to back him up.” You nodded, “I’ll get my supplies off Daesha.” Boba shook his head. “I’m leaving you here, in charge. You are my left hand; if Fennec is with me then you are on the throne.”

Your mouth hung open. Then your eyes narrowed, “Leave her here and take me. She’s better suited to take over for you in your absence.” He shook his head, “You have to learn, ad’ika. It will be fine.” You stared up at him in horror, letting it show plainly on your face. He laughed softly under his helmet, “We will be gone for less than a week. Nothing is scheduled to be going on. All you have to do is sit up there and represent me.” You gulped, “That’s what worries me.” He shrugged, “Your reputation will do more than you think. You are my number 2. No one will question you, as no one questions Fennec. And if they do,” he shifted his weight, “they will have to deal with me directly.” He seemed to grow in size. You smiled, but then became serious again.


He turned towards the throne, indicating you should follow him. He led you to the throne, and watched you step up and turn around. You sat down very slowly, disbelief flowing through you. Your ass touched the seat. You widened your stance a bit, trying to fill up the throne like Boba and Fennec. “Good,” Boba said, looking up at you. “I’m leaving now. You will rule in my stead,” he said this slightly more loudly so everyone in the room heard. With that he turned and left. You faced your court and swallowed.

***

One day turned into two. Three. There was no communication from Slave 1. This was expected; the only time you would hear something was if they were in trouble. But still you wanted to hear from Boba. You stayed in his suites in his absence, and occupied the throne room during the day. You settled some small disputes you thought were straight forward, hoping Boba would be proud of you. In the evenings you held a different type of court in the third floor club. More people started coming to the club because they knew that Fett’s Second would be there. The club was popping by the fourth night of Fett’s absence. You wondered what he’d think about it.

The dancers acted as a wall, and would pull off people who were trying to get to you. Ayy bossed them around for you. You were thankful.

On the sixth day, you received a transmission in the middle of the night. It was Fennec. Your heart sank a bit, but you pressed play.

“Y/N, there was treachery here. We’re on the run back to the Palace. Strengthen defenses immediately and wait for more instructions.”

You shot out of Fett’s suites in a panic, raising your head of security and several others. You carried out Fennec’s orders, and sat on the throne, anxiously waiting for word. Midmorning word came that Slave 1 had landed. You wanted to bound to the hanger, but knew your place. You sent Ayy instead.

Ayy returned shortly, “There’s a lot of people with Fett’s armor. They went to a conference room.” “Fett told me,” she gulped, “he actually spoke to me and told me to tell you to meet them at the conference room.” You jumped up at this, startling her. You ran out of the room without saying anything.

You caught your breath before you entered the conference room. No need to look like a fool. You stepped inside. Seven Mandalorians turned to face you, hands on their weapons.

“This is Y/N, “Fennec said, and they relaxed. She nodded at you, “Fett and Din are having a private meeting.” You nodded and took a relaxed stance. Warning klaxons went off. “Kriff, they’re here!” One of the Mandalorians yelled out.

“To the Daesha, Y/N!” Fennec yelled. Without a second thought you took off, racing towards your ship, the klaxons urging you on.

***

You slammed the take off sequence into Daesha, seeing the ships entering the atmosphere. You took off towards them, incensed. No one would come for Boba.

You were good in a dog fight, and you knew it. You prepared your weapons and increased your speed, intending to engage them as far away from the palace as possible.

Suddenly your comms came to life, “Daesha, wait for us.” It was Boba. Not a chance in hell, you thought. You engaged the enemy Mandalorians, guns blazing. Daesha took a few hits, but you knew she could take it. You targeted one of the ships and merilessly went after it. You quickly overtook it with Daesha’s speed. You targeted. It exploded just in time, Daesha flying through the debris. Your comms crackled to life again, something about pulling back. You turned them off.

You chased the larger ship that had come with the small group of invading ships. Firing at it, you took damage to one of Daesha’s engines. Black smoke trailed behind you. You grit your teeth; she would hold together. Suddenly Slave 1 filled your view screen. You had been cut off. Missiles flew and the invading ship exploded. Other ships from your side were now swarming the area, mopping up the remaining ships. Some fled, but most were destroyed. You started to chase one out of the atmosphere. “Daesha, return to the hanger,” someone was pinging you on the emergency channel. It sounded like Fennec. “I can get it,” you retorted, finally responding to someone.

“Fett says to turn around.” You snorted angrily, watching the ship grow larger in your view screen. There was no way it could outrun you. It was already dead. Frustrated, you pulled back and headed towards home.

***

You had gone to the throne room upon your return to find it empty. You then checked the conference room. There were some Mandalorians, but Fennec had just left for the throne room and Din and Boba were missing. You sighed and headed back to the throne room, where you met up with Fennec.


“He’s pissed at you,” she calmly stated, fixing your hair. You rolled your eyes.

“Daesha and I were fine.”

“I don’t think he saw it that way. In fact, most of us didn’t. You are too aggressive.”

You shrugged, annoyance growing in you.

“He wants you to meet him in his suites in a little while,” she drawled on. “In the meantime, catch me up to speed.”

***

You had caught Fennec up quickly, anxious to get to Boba’s rooms. You wanted to be there before him. Finally you were dismissed. You tried to casually jog to your destination, feeling vaguely idiotic.

He was already waiting, looking out a window. His back was to you. You ran up to him happily. When he didn’t turn around immediately, you stopped next to him, uncertain.

“You could have died today.”

“I was fine,” you shot back.

“I already have the report on Daesha. She barely held together.”

You shrugged, “I knew she would. She’s tough.”

Suddenly you were being shaken by two strong hands. “You could have died!” He roared. You were shocked; in all the time you had known him he had never raised his voice. In fact, when he became angry it usually got softer. You looked at him wide eyed. He gave you a nasty glare. “You are to stay behind the next time something like this happens.” You tried to object, but he squeezed your arms tightly. “Cyar’ika, you are forbidden.” You stared, stunned. “You can’t do that,” you quietly said. “I can, and I did,” he seethed, staring you down. You stared him down right back. “I’m not your pet! You can’t keep me locked up.”

He blinked, surprise showing on his face. His hands dropped. “Cyar’ika, I.. can’t have anything happen to you.” His eyes had changed, from sharp and dangerous to soft and pleading. You stared at each other. His eyes were soft and open. You reached up, putting your hands on either side of his face. You slowly reached up to kiss him. He allowed you, drawing you closer with two hands around your waist. You tried to deepen the kiss, both wondering if you could and just wanting to be devoured by him. Your tongue slipped past his lips and teeth to explore his mouth. He reciprocated, pulling you into a crushing kiss. You didn’t want to come up for air, but eventually you had to. He looked at you darkly. “You’re right, but I can’t reconcile that with my desire to protect you.”

You smiled, “Just let me fight with the boys.”

He dropped his gaze, “But you aren’t.”


“Yes I am. We just also fuck.” You smiled wryly at your snappy comment. He didn’t meet your gaze. Silence stretched. You began to realize you had said the wrong thing. You wrapped your arms around his neck. “I mean... you know what I mean...” He remained silent, looking out the window. “I just wanted to kill all of them, coming for you,” you whispered softly. His eyes flicked back to you, “Technically, they were coming for Din.” You snorted, “And his allies. I wasn’t going to let that happen.”

“Do you know what it did to me to see your ship taking damage?” He said quietly, hugging you to himself.

Your breath caught for a moment, “No.”

“I would go back to the Sarlacc before I let anything happen to you.”

Tears sprung to your eyes, surprising you. You sniffled. “Please don’t say that.”


“It’s true.” He put his forehead against yours and closed his eyes, “Let me take care of you.”

Your inhale caught in your lungs, “You do.”

”I mean really take care of you. I want you to be mine.”

“I am yours already,” you slid your hands around to hold his face. The two of you looked at each other. The air held something electrical in it. He drew you into a deep kiss. His hands started to move over your body. “You’re mine,” he breathed, coming up for air before kissing you again. You moaned softly; he was making you melt into a puddle of desire.

“I am yours, but I’m also my own person,” you whimpered into his mouth. He kissed you again. “You’re mine,” he reaffirmed. He was intoxicating. You didn’t argue anymore. He started to disrobe you, and you worked on his clothes frantically. The two of you fell into bed, a tangle of half-disrobed clothing and limbs. He lifted you up and tossed you into the center of the bed.

“Let me eat that pussy. Let me show you how much I missed you,” he said, pulling at your clothing. You smiled naughtily and finished pulling off your pants. He crawled up to you, an animalistic look on his face. You watched him, anticipating. He roughly spread your legs and grabbed one ass cheek with each hand. He licked from the back of your pussy all the way up to your clit, applying pressure. He rubbed his tongue back and forth on your clit. You threw your head back, moaning.

Two fingers slipped into your pussy as he continued to work your clit with his tongue. You started to see stars already, and grabbing his head you let out a loud, high pitched noise. He laughed into your pussy, and removed his fingers, replacing them with his tongue. He swirled it at your entrance and through your slick folds. You squirmed under him, and he held you still. “Baby I want you inside of me,” you panted. “Which part of me?” He slipped two fingers in and out of your pussy, and returned his tongue to your clit. You writhed, “Your cock. I want your cock.”


“Hmmm,” he considered, mmmming into your clit. You almost screamed. “How bad you want it though? I’m having fun tasting you.”

“Please, please I want your cock so badly. I missed you,” you looked down at him. “I missed your cock in my pussy, baby.” He looked up at you. “Well, if that’s the case.” He crawled up your body until you were making eye contact. He let his cock drag against the inside of your thigh. “Baby, please,” you said. He eyed you darkly, then kissed you softly, penetrating you simultaneously. You moaned into his mouth. He lightly bit your upper lip, then licked up your neck. You wrapped your legs around him, wanting all of him. He fucked you savagely, gripping you tightly. With each stroke he stretched you deliciously. You held on to him and moaned his name to him like a sacred chant. He panted into your ear, “You are all that matters to me, riduur.” You didn’t know what that meant, but took it as a term of endearment you would ask Ayy about later.

You ran your hands down his spine, crying out as you came, pussy clutching around him. “Mmmmm Boba,” you sighed. He gave a few more thrusts and came in you, cock spasming pleasantly. He stilled, then rolled off you. You snuggled into his side, sighing happily. He sighed deeply, and a silence fell over the room. Sleep overtook you

[redstarling]

My little take on Shuichi’s character

(or things that I see different)

[Warning that this post might include spoilers about the latest chapters and also about the length. This thing here is really, really, really long.]

In the past weeks and months, I’ve been watching some old DC episodes and re-read the manga files just to realize some things. Often I see Shuichi being considered and characterized as being someone who doesn’t know how to treat the people around him (not to mention that he is always considered to be a jerk when it is about the way he treats Jodie from people who dislike Jodie or who hate Red Starling). But there’s just a lot of material out there, about him being cold, and rude and how he seen as the guy who doesn’t know how to handle children. 

But the more we get to know about him, the more I’m convinced that he’s actually a good-natured man with a soft core. He knows how to treat people and while he seems full of himself quite some times, he is never too proud to own his own mistakes.

He doesn’t spare anyone’s feelings when they mess up, but he also doesn’t spare himself either. He is by far not too full of himself to not say when he made a mistake and more than that even, he owns everyone else’s mistakes as well. He never blames anyone, even if it puts his own life in danger.

1. He takes part of the blame every time

On the same page, in the second panel after this panel above, he says “We couldn’t even think of such a method, including me.” (The panel is too big for this post, so I thought I’d better leave it out). 

Even in the latest BO case he took the blame, even when none of the other agents did. 

And here again. Of course this panel has the purpose of making Masumi notice his catch phrase, but he doesn’t just say that without meaning it. He does realize when he said something that offended/hurt/irritated someone and he is very capable of just voicing that as well. This maybe is as close to an apology as it can get. But he is by no means too proud to own his mistakes.

2. He's in fact empathetic

Here he is lying to Jodie. He never spares her feelings when he speaks about her driving skills, but he doesn’t tell her anything that might worry her more than is needed either. Even if his purpose is not to not make her worry, but to avoid her to think bad of some colleagues (namely Camel who she is about to rescue from the police) he still is empathetic enough to think about the consequences of telling her. If he didn’t care or couldn’t anticipate a negative reaction, he would have just told her.

3. He’s not just empathetic but his motivation is his family

I have seen posts around, saying that he is selfish and doesn’t care about his family’s feelings. However the truth is, he does all this because he loves his family. His motivation is his family. He loves mysteries, he said that ten years ago, but he also wants to find out what happened to his father and who did something to him.

He lied to Mary about his reasons to study abroad in the US, because he knew she wouldn’t have 15 y/o him go there if he had told her his motivation that early. He got into a physical fight with her when she found out and she refused to pay him an allowance even when he was of age.

(Also a side note: I don’t see Mary as being a violent mother - see Chapter 902 and 1037; in the first one she’s overly joyful as she watched Shuukichi win his 7th shogi title, even to a degree that creeps Masumi. And in the second one she is so excited for her third baby and tells her teenage boys that their dad will come back soon, because of their “cute sons”. She was and still is very affectionate. Her usual harsh and strict behavior is caused by both her fear of the BO/not knowing who to trust and, ten years ago, the fear of losing her son. She had lost her husband before and as a mother, she makes very clear that she doesn’t want to lose any of her kids either. And last to the same people who (maybe) killed her husband. She might have been a tough mom, but she is not a bad mom by any means. Just scared to lose her children too.)

Now, Shuichi does hurt Mary with his disappearing act, but he does all this for his family in the first place.

He is a little bit too confident here, but he knows that his mother acts this way because she is worried. And he tries to calm her by telling her that nothing will happen to him and their family. 

4. He wasn’t exactly a jerk to Masumi

A lot of people call Shuichi a jerk for his behavior towards Masumi when he first met her ten years ago. To be fair, he didn’t seem too interested and calling Masumi a brat wasn’t nice either. (But then again, he called Conan a brat in a stressful situation too). And considering that he got into a physical fight with his mom, he was probably not in his best mood either. (More about this later). He doesn’t even say hello to Shukichi, but “It’s been a while...” My ass, Shuichi! At least he noticed that his little brother had grown in the past seven years and asked him in what High School class he is now in.

But now, let’s look at little Masumi trying to make him smile. At first she tries to archive her goal by climbing on the parasol. Shuichi doesn’t laugh about it (come on, what should be funny about it anyway?) but merely tells Shukichi that it is dangerous and he shouldn’t let her do that. He doesn’t blame Masumi for her (childish) behavior but tells his brother that it’s his job to watch and stop her from doing things that could hurt her. He just voices his concern.

The second thing Masumi tries then, is doing some failed cartwheels. Shuichi watches her, but regards her with an exaggerated yawn, as if to say “try harder”. He is aware that she tries to get his attention (maybe not aware that she wants to make him smile) but it looks rather like he’s challenging her. And third, she goes over and sticks the fries where they don’t belong. Now see both Shuichi’s and Mary’s reaction to it:

While Shuichi is all relaxed and tells her to not play with her food, Mary is upset about it, if not angry. He isn’t wrong with the things he says and he does it still nicer than their mom. 

And we should maybe also not forget that Shuichi is probably not in his best mood after fighting with his mom, and being bored. Mary wanted him to come back to Japan and be around his family to let go of his plans  in America (even before she knew about his intention to join the FBI). But he didn’t let her change her mind.

5. He’s good with kids

Camel was surprised to see Shuichi (as Subaru) with the Detective Boys, and even thought that Shuichi didn’t have it easy (to which Shuichi was surprised and asked “You think so?”  as if he never considered it hard). I don’t want to mention Subaru though, because some like to argue that everything Subaru does is an act and none of Subaru’s behavior is the “real” Shuichi. 

So we stay at the beach, ten years ago since we saw him a lot around kids. Most of the times when he talks to Shinichi, Ran and Masumi, he shows affectionated gestures (like placing his hand on their heads) or crouches down to get as on eye-level with them. 

(I put them all here on imgur to not make this post bigger than needed. Just check these panels out if you want.)

I don’t think it’s a natural behavior to always kneel down and speak on eye-level with them, instead of just speaking down to them. However, I think for kids this makes a huge difference (though, I really don’t know about it, I could just imagine). 

And, something a friend of mine noticed, is that he always asks the people around him if they could do the thing he instructs them to do. He always gives them the chance to opt out of it. He does that with the kids, and he does that with adults as well. He doesn’t force anyone to do anything they don’t feel okay with, but especially kids.

He also protected Shinichi and asked him and Ran to play with his sister, probably thinking that she’d enjoy kids her age more than him (or even Shukichi for that matter).

6. He’s a good and proud big brother and he loves his family

Just like Mary, he follows his brother’s shogi matches and he looks all proud of his younger brother when he wins his 7th title. Also he does actually risk his mission to save his family (Shukichi, chapter 1045/1046). If it comes down to his endangered family, he’d probably risk a lot to save his family.

I don’t even think there’s anything else that needs to be said. This is his raw expression when he thinks about his little sister being all grown up now. He also told Conan that he doesn’t tell Masumi about him in an attempt to keep her safe. He says he wants to keep her out of this as much as possible.

And also Mary. He gets worried when he hears Masumi talk about their mother in past tense, so he tries to get information about it and even shows a relieved smile when Masumi tells her that Mary is still alive. 

He is a family guy. He might need his space at times, but overall, it shows that he loves his family and that he wants them to live a life without fear - and he wants himself to not worry about their well-being in these dangerous times. 

The thing with him is just, that his life hasn’t been easy. He has gone through a lot of dangerous and traumatic things for sure. And these things left traces on him, but he’s still motivated by his loved ones and he does know how to be gentle and nice to both kids and adults. He’s acts matter-of-factly and strict when needed, he does his own things as well, but at the end of the day, he still cares and also shows his softer side, is gentle and affectionate when the situation lets him. 

[nikki-writes-stuff]

Beauty In the Blood - Part Four

Summary: One day your friend convinces you to join a dating website that matches people based on their search histories, and when you match with Loki Odinson, a handsome, intelligent coroner who’s a fan of your murder mysteries, you’re absolutely thrilled. But there’s something off about Loki, and as your relationship progresses, you discover that his dark side is even darker than you could ever have imagined…

Pairing: Serial Killer!Loki x Writer!Reader

Read part three here! 

A/N: This story is based off of this post! I hope you guys enjoy; this is my first time writing Loki, and this will probably be the darkest thing I’ve ever written. Please let me know what you think as the story progresses!

A/N: Warning! This chapter contains light smut at the beginning and heavy gore in the middle. If that kind of thing bothers you, then try skipping down to Natasha’s point of view. It’ll summarize what basically happened while sparing the nasty details. (Also, I’ll have you know that a lot of morbid Google searches went into the making of this chapter, lol.) Enjoy!

Your eyes flew open with a gasp, and your fingers twisted and dug into the sheets; a ragged, breathless moan tore itself out of your throat, and for a moment, you couldn’t tell whether or not you were still asleep.  You’d just been dreaming a second ago, though you couldn’t remember what about, but now, there was something hot and wet lapping at your already-drenched pussy.

Blearily, you looked down, making out the form of something moving beneath the blankets. Or, rather, someone. The events of the last night came back to you just as another moan escaped from your parted lips, and you threw back the covers to see a familiar head of black hair nestled between your spread thighs.

“L-loki,” you sputtered, voice still rough from sleeping. “Wh-what are you- oh, fuck-!”

His chuckle was muffled as he wrapped his lips around your clit and started sucking, and your back arched up as your hands flew to his hair. You fought to keep your eyes open, wanting to savor the sight of his aquamarine eyes staring up at you while he gently grazed his teeth over your sensitive bud. The sensation sent shockwaves up and down your spine, and your hands moved to his hair as your hips started rolling upwards of their own accord.

You only lasted for an embarrassingly-short amount of time; you had no way of knowing how long Loki had been playing with your cunt while you slept, but within just a few minutes of waking up, you felt your toes curl as your orgasm washed over you. Your eyes never left his, taking in the proud, almost smug, gleam in them as he greedily tasted your cum.

His tongue kept lazily exploring your pussy, grazing over your clit as you jolted from the oversensitivity. Biting your lip, you tugged on his dark tresses, watching as he reluctantly pulled his head up to fully face you.

“Good morning,” he smirked, his lips swollen and slick with your juices.

“I… Good morning,” you stammered. “That was…one hell of a way to wake up.”

Both of you chuckled as he crawled up your body, wrapping an arm around your waist before pulling you into a kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and you couldn’t help the tiny groan that came out of your mouth at the lewdness it.

Loki pulled away, licking his lips as he looked down at you. For a moment, the two of you were silent, taking in the other person as sunlight drifted in from behind your closed blinds. His hair fell in thick, frizzy waves, no doubt rumpled from how you’d been manhandling it both last night and this morning, and his face seemed to be almost…softer than usual. Despite how he’d woken you up, you could see a faint gleam of sleepiness still lingering in his expression, and it made him look younger; with a smile, you traced one of his cheekbones with a finger, trailing it down the line of his jaw and sweeping it across his lower lip.

“You’re beautiful, Loki,” you whispered. You hadn’t meant to speak those words out loud, but there was no denying the truth in them.

A wide, close-lipped smile came to his face, and he pressed one more peck to your cheek before pulling away to sit beside you on the bed.

“I think,” he mused, “that we both need a big breakfast with even bigger cups of coffee after last night.” His voice was just a touch gravelly, but there was no denying the affection in it as he looked down at you, lazily playing with a strand of your hair.

“Don’t tell me I wore you out,” you chuckled, reluctantly pulling yourself to sit up. Loki gave you a tired, almost sheepish smile, before he pulled himself to his feet.

“I must be slowing down in my old age,” he joked, eyes scanning the floor to see where his underwear had ended up.

Propped up on your elbows, you watched the lean muscles of his body contract and bend as he stooped to retrieve them, and you were once more reminded of a statue carved from the purest white marble. The corded muscles of his thighs flexed with every movement as he stalked over to your en suite bathroom, and it was only when he’d closed the door behind him that you decided it was time to get up.

“I was thinking,” you called out, making your way to your closet, “that we could get some breakfast together at a café down the street. My treat.”

You pulled on a nude bra with matching panties, not hearing the bathroom door as it swung open. It was only when you felt cold hands descend upon your waist that you jolted and turned to face Loki again, not missing the way his eyes skimmed over your breasts.

“I’d say that you treated me to more than enough last night,” he purred. “Between your amazing cooking, your beautiful writing, and your absolutely sinful body, well…” His hands trailed up your sides, tickling over your ribs before slipping under the cups of your bra.

“A man can get spoiled quite easily.”

Needless to say, it was a while before either of you got properly dressed.

______________

Loki sipped his black coffee as you consumed the café’s specialty drink of the day, his hand resting over yours as you both finished off your breakfasts. The two of you had been sitting in companionable silence for a while, giving you an opportunity to think of what you would right next in your newest work in progress.

“I can practically see the gears turning in your head, love,” he chuckled after a while, shaking you from your thoughts. “Care to share?”

You smiled, setting down your fork[NL1] .

“Just about the book,” you told him. “I think I’m going to write another killing scene soon.”

Your boyfriend’s eyes leapt up, his interest obviously piqued.

“Oh? How will our coroner do it this time?”

You winced unconsciously, your thoughts turning red for the briefest of moments as you considered whether or not to share your twisted ideas with him.

“I’m…not sure if it’s the right thing to discuss over breakfast,” you admitted weakly. “Wouldn’t want your breakfast to, uh, disagree with you.”

“Love? Need I remind you of what I do for a living?” was his deadpanned response. “I play with corpses for a paycheck; I promise that not only will it not bother me to hear, but that I want to.”

As strange of a response as it was, you couldn’t help but feel warmth bloom in your chest; you’d nearly forgotten that Loki wasn’t like other people. You didn’t have to filter your morbid, macabre thoughts around him. If anything, his dry and sardonic sense of humor encouraged the darker turn your conversations often ended up taking.

“Well… I’m considering having her…” You trailed off, searching for the right word. “Disembowel someone, I suppose. Her victim is one of the rare few she takes to satisfy a personal agenda; typically, she’ll just pick a random innocent, but this time it’s semi-personal. So I was considering a more passionate murder for them.”

Loki’s eyes were shining with a mischievous sort of joy, and you found yourself thinking, not for the first time, that if he wasn’t so directly involved with death on a daily basis, his love of such things would be concerning, to say the least. But you supposed that the same could be said of you, and so you trudged on with your brainstorming.

“I was thinking about having her cut them open and use their intestines to strangle them, but I’m not even sure if that would even work in real life,” you mused, tracing the edge of your coffee cup with a finger. “I imagine that a person would die from being cut open before they could die from asphyxiation.”

He nodded his head solemnly, turning over your words. You were relieved to find no disgust within his features – only mild interest as he pondered.

“Off the top of my head, I can think of a few issues that one would have if they were to attempt such a thing,” he considered. “For one, there’s the bleeding to contend with. And I would think someone could go into shock and lose consciousness if they’re awake and conscious during the ordeal.

“Which, of course, they would have to be. Otherwise, what fun would it be?”

A surprised bark of laughter escaped your lips, and your hand flew up to cover your mouth as Loki’s spread into a wide, toothy grin.

“You’re bad,” you chided, shooting him a look of mock-reproach.

“Oh, I’m well aware. But so are you, darling. It would appear we’re two sides of the same unconventional coin.”

Your smile softened, and you gave his hand a squeeze before tipping your head back and draining the rest of your coffee, not catching the spark in his eyes as watched your throat.

“But I will think about your idea while I’m at work; maybe I’ll come up with a way for our favorite coroner to pull off such an interesting kill.”

“Thank you, love. But I have to say, Olivia is still only my second favorite coroner.”

__________________

Loki hummed to himself, listening to the way the sound echoed throughout the cavernous theater. Typically, he preferred to bring his victims back to his home so as to ensure more privacy, but he was feeling festive this evening; why not celebrate the occasion with a bit of a change in scenery?

And what scenery it was. He’d first discovered the abandoned theater about a year after moving to New York. It was located on the outskirts of Manhattan, tucked away into a quiet, crumbling corner of the city that few ventured into. Not even the homeless dared take up residence in the old building; Loki had already nearly fallen through the worn, creaking hardwood of the stage once, and the ceiling was dotted with holes that hinted at the establishment’s imminent collapse. It was only a matter of time before man or nature razed the theater to concrete and crushed brick, but he doubted such a thing would happen tonight.

He’d always been remarkably lucky, all things considered.

The plastic of his hazmat suit crumbled and squeaked with his every movement, and it was becoming quite muggy and humid with his own sweat, but he’d been doing this for too long to risk getting caught now. He’d been meticulous, making sure that no trace of himself would be left behind – just his work.

His head perked up when he heard movement from behind him, and he glanced sideways at the evening’s entertainment. He hadn’t cared to learn his name; all he knew was that the man currently encased in duct tape and rope had cut him off in traffic, and that had been enough justification for Loki to follow him home. The poor sap hadn’t made it to his front door, though; no, he had a greater purpose to serve.  

He turned fully to watch as the man’s eyes blinked open, sluggishly roving about the room as he recovered from the blow Loki had landed to the back of his head. Once their eyes met, though, he watched as realization washed over his countenance, and in the wake of realization, terror. A deep, guttural groan was muffled by duct tape, and the sound bounced along the high-vaulted ceiling and peeling walls.

“Oh, my apologies,” Loki smirked. “Here, let me…”

He crossed to the man and knelt down, ripping the tape off in one quick, harsh movement.

“Please, I have a family-“ the man started to plead, but the coroner only rolled his eyes before standing up once again.

“I was hoping for something more original,” he sighed disappointedly. “If I had a dollar for every time I heard those words, I would probably be able to afford a second home in Malibu.”

He chuckled at his own joke, tuning out the man’s pitiful wailing as he dragged his toolkit closer. Squatting down, he lined up the three syringes he’d brought with him, just in case, before drawing out his beloved pocketknife. Its ebony handle shone in the dim lighting, reflecting a distorted image of the smile he was currently wearing.

“I-I-I can pay you, too,” he heard from behind him. “Anything you want! I work on Wall Street; I can-“

“Let me ask you something,” he interrupted once again. After lovingly setting the knife down next to the syringes, he brought himself up to his feet.

The man was now visibly trembling, trying to squirm his way out of the rope binding his arms and legs. Loki inhaled deeply through his nose; he could swear that he smelled the fear radiating off of his victim, could taste it on his tongue - metallic and salty and intoxicating.

“What is your name?” he inquired, tilting his head.

“Larry. L-Larry Farmer.”

“Larry Farmer?” He tilted his head back, shoulders shaking with laughter. “That… I’m sorry; I’m being terribly rude, laughing at your name like this. It’s just that you look like a Larry Farmer, if I’ve ever seen one.”

Larry seemed to be too frightened to be offended, though he couldn’t care less about what this soon-to-be-corpse thought of his manners. He reserved them only for those who deserved courtesy, after all.

“Well, Larry,” he continued on. “I’m sure you have at least some semblance of an idea as to why I’ve brought you here.”

“Please, don’t- don’t kill me, I-I’ll do anything-“

“If it’s any consolation, your death is, in a way, for posterity’s sake. You’re going to be famous, Larry. Probably in both the news and my lover’s latest masterpiece.”

He crossed the floor to the hook he’d set up earlier that day, hoping that it would work for its intended purpose. The hook was large and rusted, and connected to it was a long length of rope that he’d slung over one of the exposed beams above the stage. He’d tested his own weight on it, satisfied that it was still sturdy despite the state of the rest of the theater, but now he was starting to have his doubts. Mr. Farmer wasn’t as muscular as him, but he was quite rotund. And while Loki typically didn’t judge such a thing, he was worried that the man would either snap the rope or send the roof tumbling down onto them.

With one final tug to make sure the hook was secured, he started marching back towards the sobbing man sprawled out on the floor, delighting in the way his eyes widened and his feet skittered in their bonds, trying to push himself away from the killer as he approached. With a grunt, he grabbed Larry’s suit jacket and dragged him back to the contraption, his breath ragged by the time he managed to attach the hook to the rope twined around the quivering fool’s hands.

“Well, at least I can skip cardio tomorrow,” he grunted to himself through clenched teeth. His shoes clicked as he made his way to the other end of the hook’s rope, but their sound was almost drowned out by Larry’s screams.

“HELP ME,” he was shouting, his body writhing on the ground in a way that reminded Loki of worms once the rain washed them onto a sidewalk. “PLEASE, SOMEONE, HE’S GONNA KILL ME-“

“He sure is.”

Gripping the rope in both hands, Loki planted his feet and pulled, watching Mr. Farmer’s body as first his arms were raised up, followed by his torso, until, after a lot of panting and heaving on Loki’s part, he was suspended in the air. His feet were kicking as much as they could with tape twined around his ankles, trying to make contact with the ground, but he remained hovering just above it by a few inches.

After tying off the rope to a nearby post, Loki sauntered over to the hanging man, hands folded behind his back as he caught his breath from the excursion.

“There, now. Much better.”

His eyes followed the length of rope upwards, pleased that it looked to be holding fast. Finally, everything was ready for his little experiment. Stooping down, he retrieved his knife, admiring it for a moment before turning back to Larry.

“No, no, no, please, please-“

“Hushhhh, no one can hear you,” he purred, coming to stand before the man who was still persisting in begging for his life.

He rested one of his hands on Larry’s shoulder, gripping tight as he plunged the knife into his gut. The blade wasn’t terribly long – maybe four or five inches – but it cut deep enough that, when Loki flicked his wrist to make a long, clean slash along the lower abdomen, the intestines fell out with a wet, satisfying squish. Or, rather, part of them did.

“O-oh my god…”

Larry’s voice was a low moan of pain, and Loki took a second to bask in it as blood dripped steadily to the floor. His screams had morphed into anguished grunts and groans, which were infinitely more pleasing to Loki’s ear. A quick upwards glance showed that his face had gone unnaturally pale, and his eyes were half-lidded as he threatened to pass out.

“Oh, no, not yet-“

Loki stooped down, grabbing one of the syringes and stabbing it into the man’s chest, injecting it with his thumb pushing down on the plunger. Larry’s body jolted, a gasp parting his pale lips as his eyes once more snapped open.

“There, we go,” the killer purred, tucking the syringe into one of Mr. Farmer’s pockets. “A little bit of adrenaline goes a long way, hm? Now.”

He reached down, holding a length of slippery small intestines between his hands.

“Stay with me for just a little longer more, Larry. Then you can go to sleep; I promise.”

With gentle tugs and steady movements, Loki brought the length of the gut up and around Larry’s neck, drinking in the horror on his expression. A series of disbelieving, shocked gurgles escaped the man’s throat as Loki wrapped each hand firmly in the intestines.

“Wh-y,” he wheezed, surprising Loki with his ability to still speak despite the amount of his insides which were, currently, on his outside. “A-a-re y-ou do- doing thi-s-s-s…”

He chuckled in response, his eyebrows jumping up as he met Mr. Farmer’s eyes.

“Why are all the best crimes committed?” he countered as he started to pull on the length of intestine. The man’s eyes bugged out as he began to choke, and a crease formed between Loki’s eyebrows as he focused on not losing his grip on the slippery material.

He brought his face close to the man now struggling for breath, admiring the way his skin had started to turn from pale to purple. His voice was barely above a whisper as he answered his own question, keeping his fingers tight around the gut gripped in them.

“For love.”

Only seconds later, Larry Farmer’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, and all too soon, he went limp.

Later on, once Loki was showered and resting in his bed, he called you, holding the phone to his ear and waiting impatiently for you to pick up.

“…Hello?”

A smile came over his face upon hearing your voice, and he closed his eyes, replaying the look in Larry’s eyes just before he’d succumbed to death.

“Hello, love. I’ve been thinking about what you said over breakfast yesterday; I think I have a few ideas about how Olivia would be able to pull it off…”

_____________________

There wasn’t enough caffeine in the world for days like this, but the large tumbler of iced coffee in Natasha’s hand would have to do. A matching one was in Steve’s as the two detectives marched into the theater, and she couldn’t help but sigh at the small herd of reporters that had already started to form outside the condemned building.

“I don’t know whether to be impressed or annoyed that they always manage to get here before we do,” her partner mused, casting a disapproving glance towards the news vans and flashing cameras.

Detective Romanoff’s eyes flashed as she followed his gaze, and her full lips twisted into a grimace before taking a sip of her drink.

“I’m gonna go with annoyed,” she sighed. “Vultures, the lot of them.”

“You won’t hear me disagree.”

He lifted the line of caution tape barricading the door for her, and she muttered a thank you before ducking under it and walking into the aged, dingey lobby within. The crushed velvet lining the walls had to be filled with decades’ worth of pollen and dust, and she was already fighting down the urge to sneeze. Officers were dotted here and there, trying to lift a print off of any possible surface, but she’d already been informed that they had yet to find anything useful.

“Detective Romanoff, Detective Rogers.”

The two turned to see Officer Coulson walking up to them, his hands hooked into his belt as he approached. Natasha’s lips twitched upwards; Phil was a gifted officer, a kind man, and a good friend, and seeing him managed to slightly lessen the painful headache starting to form behind her eyes.

“Coulson,” she greeted. “Heard you have quite a doozy waiting for us.”

“That’s one way of putting it. Just wanted to give you a heads up before you go in there. Let’s just say that we’ve already had an officer lose his breakfast at the sight of it.”

One of her manicured eyebrows arched up, and she and Steve shared a look before turning towards the doors that led to the auditorium.

“Is it that bad?” Steve asked, a node of trepidation in his voice.

“It ain’t good.”

With that, Coulson turned and walked out the building, bringing his phone out of his pocket to no doubt give Sergeant Fury a call. Natasha didn’t know what she was dreading more – walking into the auditorium, or having her superior breathing down her neck until they caught whoever had left behind the body.

Without further preamble, she squared her shoulders and pushed past the doors, eyes immediately widening as she saw what was waiting for them. A portly, middle-aged man was dangling from the ceiling by his own bound hands, and as she walked closer, she saw that his own intestines were looped around his neck like some kind of morbid scarf. Steve cursed under his breath, and Natasha nodded her head in silent agreement with the sentiment.

Fuck, indeed.

Doctor Banner, a forensic specialist who’d been working with the police since before Natasha had come to America, turned towards them as they climbed the steps to the stage. His salt and pepper curls were messy and wild, and stubble was thick on his cheeks, signifying that he’d probably left home that morning in a hurry.

“Oh, hey,” he greeted them, though his eyes were on Natasha alone. “You made it; we were about to get the party started without you.”

“I don’t see how that’s a party,” she fired back, nodding towards the corpse.

Banner nodded, glancing back at the body as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Yeah, I see your point…”

Steve smiled, glancing between the two before clearing his throat.

“What can you tell us about all of this, Dr. Banner?” he asked, drawing the scientist’s attention back to the matter at hand.

“Oh, right. Yeah, so this is Larry Farmer, age 49. Time of death looks to be about 12 hours ago; we’re lucky that we found him at all. If the local kids hadn’t decided to try and practice their graffiti here, who knows when he would’ve been found?”

He pulled a pen out of his breast pocket, using it to point along the length of intestine twined around Mr. Farmer’s neck.

“He lost a lot of blood, but the burst capillaries in his eyes and face suggests that he died from strangulation, not blood loss. Now, we found an empty syringe in his pocket, and we’ll have to do a few tests on it to see-“

“Wait a minute,” Steve interrupted, holding up a hand. “You’re telling me that this guy was strangled with his own-“

“Intestines, yeah,” the doctor finished for him with a wince. “Pretty fucked up, isn’t it?”

“To put it mildly,” Natasha stated, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Now what was this about a syringe?”

“Right; we don’t know for sure what it is, but I’m willing to bet it was either something to clot the blood or something to keep him awake. We’ll know in a few hours. The medical examiner will be able to test his blood, too, to see if there’s any other kind of chemical in it that shouldn’t be there.”

“Sounds good,” Natasha nodded. “Do we know which hospital he’s gonna be brought to?”

Hours later, she felt her heart sinking as Steve pulled up to Bellevue Hospital, its familiar shape looming over her as she thought about the man who was, most likely, puttering away in the morgue. Something in her chest ached at the idea, and her displeasure must have shown on her face, because Steve turned to her with a sympathetic glance one the care was put into park.

“He might not even be working today,” he offered, fake optimism dripping from his voice. “Besides, he’s not the only medical examiner here. Farmer might have been brought to Dr. Lyons, or Dr. Stewart, or-“

“The universe would never be so kind,” Natasha snarked before stepping out of the police car, pulling her leather jacket on over her sweater as the cold nipped at her skin.

Her breath turned to fog as she and Steve walked in side by side, shoulders brushing every now and then as she unconsciously leaned towards her friend for support. He didn’t know the whole story – no one but her and Dr. Odinson did – but he knew that there was history between the two of them. Everyone who knew of her prickly feelings for Loki assumed that they’d dated at one point in time, and she let them think that, not wanting to look on the past long enough to recall the twisted web of memories waiting there for her.

The morgue was always kept about ten degrees cooler than the rest of the hospital, and an icy finger trailed down her spine as she made her way to the familiar observation room. And, belatedly, the familiar man working inside.

Dr. Odinson was hunched over the body, sewing Larry Farmer shut with a precise, skillful hand; a small, absentminded smile had settled over his lips, and Natasha felt herself shudder at the sight. She would try to rationalize that he must be thinking about something pleasant, but she’d seen that same smile on his face countless of times before, all while he worked on the corpses laid out on his steel observation table.

Loki liked what he did, for reasons that she frankly didn’t care to learn.

“Dr. Odinson,” Steve called out, prompting the doctor’s head to turn promptly towards them.

“Ah. Hello, detectives,” he greeted, straightening up. He delicately placed the suture onto Mr. Farmer’s bare chest before stepping away and shucking off his examination gloves. “I wasn’t expecting you so soon.”

“We wanted to pick up the toxicology report on our way back to the station,” Steve explained. “Did you find anything that could be useful?”

“I found a few things that might be useful to you,” he informed them.

His long legs carried him to his desk in powerful, confident strides, and he retrieved a manilla envelope from the stack of neat papers situation on its surface.

“After running some tests, I-“

He was interrupted by the loud, tinny sound of a phone going off, and Steve’s hand flew into his pocket, pulling his device out and glancing at the caller ID.

“It’s Bucky,” he said, glancing up at Natasha. “Is it ok if I…?”

He trailed off, and a spike of anxiety pierced through her at the thought of being left alone with Loki. But she masked her unease with a tight, forced smile before nodding her head.

“Yeah! Yeah, go ahead; I’ll fill you in on whatever you miss.”

Steve nodded his thanks and walked out, accepting the call and bringing the phone up to his ear.

“Hey, babe, what’s up?”

His voice faded as he stepped out of the room, and no other words were discernable as he spoke to his husband in the hallway.

“…As I was saying,” Loki continued on, turning his full attention to Natasha. “After running some tests, I found an unusually large amount of adrenaline in his blood; Dr. Banner mentioned something about finding a syringe in his pocket?”

Natasha nodded, and Loki handed her the envelope, his fingers long and pale against its surface.

“Well, the exact numbers are in the report, but it was enough adrenaline to keep him conscious throughout the process,” he pushed on, a surprising lack of teasing in his voice. “He was, indeed, killed by asphyxiation, though I suspect that, if he hadn’t have been strangled, he would have bled out within a matter of minutes.

“There was a blow to the back of his head, too, that likely wouldn’t have caused any permanent damage, but it’s worth noting.”

“Well, that would confirm that he was knocked out and then taken to the theater,” she mused, biting her lower lip in thought.

“Either that, or he went to the theater with someone who then decided to knock him out. He was, however, fully awake at the time of strangulation.”

Natasha nodded, tucking the envelope under her arm.

“…Thank you, Dr. Odinson,” she finally stated. “I’ll give you a call if I have any questions about your report.”

Aside from the cynical jump in his eyebrows upon hearing her refer to him by this professional title, Loki offered none of his usual sly remarks or glances before turning on his heel and making his way back to the body.

“Any time, Officer Romanoff.”

She grit her teeth in annoyance, glaring at him as he pulled on another set of gloves.

“It’s detective, Loki. And you know it.”

His movements slowed to a stop, and once more his eyes met hers. She forced herself not to look away, staring back at him coolly until he resumed pulling on the gloves.

“My mistake,” he muttered. “Force of habit. Detective Romanoff.”

The redhead nodded, her curls bouncing in her peripheral vision, and hesitated for a second longer before turning back to the doors. Something in her made her stop, though, and she glanced back at the doctor as he picked up the suture once more, his hemostats clicking as he locked them in place.

“…Hey. You doing anything later?”

She hated the tremble in her voice, hated the sick part of her that wanted him to say yes. God knows she didn’t care for the man; his very presence set her teeth on edge.

But she was weak, and he had always been very skilled at relieving the tension she managed to accumulate during the days like this one.

Loki glanced up at her from under his lashes, but his hands didn’t still in their movements as he answered.

“I’m planning on cooking dinner for my girlfriend, actually.”

Silence stretched out between them, and Natasha did nothing to hide the shock on her features. Something cold wrapped around her lungs and squeezed, and she fought down a tide of embarrassment as she thought back to the woman she’d seen Loki talking to several days before.

“…Oh. I’m sorry, I… I didn’t know-“

“It’s quite alright,” he assured her in a, surprisingly, kind tone. “I always did say that conventional relationships weren’t my forte.”

She nodded, recalling the first time he’d said those very same words to her.

“She must be special, then,” Natasha offered, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides. “To have changed your mind like that.”

A fond smile came to his lips, very similar to the one he wore when focused on his work, and though she didn’t feel even a shred of jealousy, it was still unnerving to see.

“She’s very special, Detective. Very special indeed.”

On the other side of the doors behind her, Natasha heard Steve say his goodbyes to Bucky, and she turned to walk out before he could join her in the operatory.

Once Loki was left alone in the room, he turned back to Larry Farmer, a bemused smile on his face.

“…It’s complicated,” he said to the corpse, staring down into his cloudy, sightless eyes.

He didn’t expect an answer as he finished sewing up the wound he himself had inflicted, but the smile on his lips didn’t falter.

[the-sunshine-dims]

life sucks when there's no cuddles (chapter 2)

 okay so i have made a dumb decision to make a third part as well and then the series shall be completed (hopefully)

words: 2535 

chapter 1 | chapter 3

ao3 link

contents and warnings: touch starved Janus, Patton wants to receive and give all the affection, platonic moceit, being overly on guard, miscommunications, hurt/comfort, crying, yearning mention, virgil/roman/remus/logan mention, 

___

Patton rubbed his eyes tiredly as he woke up, his head was lazily resting on his arms which ended up resting on his desk due to an impromptu nap. he was happy and proud he had been very productive for Thomas, But he was still pretty tired because pro tip falling asleep on you desk sucks, especially after working (in his opinion) quite a lot so his limbs already were tired from writing stuff down, and he intended to ask someone if he could have a cuddle pile and potentially watch a movie with them because he wanted to rest somewhere and with someone comfortably, he didn't want to just fall asleep on his bed, he was happier being around people he liked, and also, his room felt all stiff and boring right now, and while it was probably since he had been working seriously, he still didn't like it and didn't want to remain in it.

He paused his thoughts before trying to decide who he was gonna ask for affection, wanting to decide before standing up. maybe Virgil? Virgil was nice and especially after the stressing week he needed to rest- but he was touch adverse a lot of the time after stress inducing things.

Logan? He was nice and just kinda let Patton lounge on him and he was comfy and allowed Patton to play with his hair sometimes as long as it was quiet enough for him to read as Patton did so, but.. same with Virgil he was rather touch adverse a lot of the time after stressful stuff.

Roman was left, he loved roman, he was nice and Patton got to hear him talk about his projects and Disney stuff and just stuff he was excited about and it was so nice and he got to lay in Roman’s lap.. but of course Roman most of the time goes on quests after a stressful time or if he just had to stay in the same place too long and he wants to stretch, so definitely not free since he wouldn’t even be in his room and he’s out in the imagination.

And he doesn’t really want to ask Remus because In the nicest way possible he’s not the most comfortable with him, at least not yet, and he doesn’t want to bother Janus- but oh wait Janus might be free! And he hasn't seen him in a while, so maybe Janus would be willing to hang out with him?

He cheers up instantaneously from the disappointment of not being able to ask the others before realizing that Janus always seemed really stiff in hugs and he seemed he might've been a little uncomfortable when sleepy Patton made grabby hands for him to cuddle, so maybe he doesn’t like physical affection- but! He could still.. possibly ask him if he wanted to watch a movie and hang out with him, and that way he won’t feel uncomfortable in a hug or anything and Patton still gets company from the people he enjoys, and later once Logan and the others are all rested up maybe he can plan a proper movie night for everyone! And he could hang out with Janus again and his other friends and he could get all the love, at least if they're comfortable with that.

He happily stands up before sinking out to the outside of Janus’s room, after a moment he knocked happily and after another moment or two, a kind of tired, apprehensive looking Janus opened the door.

Patton smiled, if tiredly, but he made sure to muster up all his energy before speaking, “heyo kiddo! would you want to watch a movie with me? You can choose which movie we watch!” He told him. fighting back a yawn, he had a vague suspicion that he wouldn’t make it through the whole movie before falling asleep.

Janus seemed to be thinking about it before he went “what about the others?” in his honeyed but for some reason tiniest bit nervous voice,

Patton shrugged “I don’t think they’d be able to, but it doesn't really matter, I like hanging out with you and it gives me an opportunity to, so I’m happy!” Patton grinned again.

Janus nodded “..okay, if you want me to, I’ll come.” He told him, and normally Janus didn’t seem this nervous, did something happen while they were all holed away? He hoped Janus wasn’t sad!

Patton smiled though at Janus's response and resisted grabbing Janus's hand, after all Janus appeared to possibly be uncomfortable with the little gestures and he didn’t want to overwhelm or upset him, so he just offered him a smile before going “okay! I’ll go get the TV set up and grab some snacks, come to the living room when you're ready!” and waving and then promptly sinking out, which he’s gotta say is exhausting and he should not be doing it in his already exhausted state, but it was whatever and if he was actually going to stop for a time was anybody’s guess.

He quickly grabbed some snacks for them from the kitchen once he rose up into the living room and grabbed a couple blankets and just got set up in general, though he didn’t make any move to find a movie yet, he waited for Janus to say what movie he wanted to watch since Patton did say he could choose because honestly Patton might end up falling asleep and Janus shouldn’t have to watch a movie he doesn’t like while Patton's asleep.

After a couple minutes of waiting after getting everything ready, Janus emerged, shifting uncomfortably as he stood around, kind of like Virgil did before Thomas and the others accepted him, that comparison kind of actually scared Patton. after another moment Patton motioned to the couch in silent invitation, which Janus took up and sat down on the other end of the couch, honestly Janus seemed to of devolved from his usual façade, even as he sat down he was holding himself nervously and was- well he was reminding Patton so much of old Virgil it was concerning, he didn’t want to intrude on asking if something happened though, they weren't really close as friends yet, but he did want to let Janus know he was there for him somehow.. he took a small unnoticeable breath before turning to Janus and asking “which movie would you Like?”

Janus thought about it for a moment “what about the greatest showman? It has good songs, though the showman is an awful person,” He said, the first bit hesitantly, and while he himself knew the reason why he was being like this (though he thought it wasn’t as noticeable) was because he was making sure to be on guard as to not blurt out anything or accidentally say something that would either beckon questions from Patton or make him concerned, though he was failing at not making Patton concerned,

Because, Patton though, Patton didn’t know, he didn’t know one bit, and he was worried for Janus, he had never seen Janus act like this and he just seemed constantly nervous and he didn’t really know what to do, after all, Janus may not even want to talk to Patton about it. 

Patton gave Janus a small smile as he turned the movie on, getting comfy and offering Janus a blanket and he didn’t know why but as Janus accepted it from Patton’s hand he seemed to give a small longing look, and Patton didn’t know if he had misread the look or something else because what could he be yearning for?

He didn’t know, and he doubted thinking about it would come any good so he just discontinued thinking about it, but one of the things he instead thought of was that Janus was so comfy and Patton wanted cuddles- but then he had to internally scold himself once again because he didn’t want Janus to be uncomfortable with Patton because he didn’t like cuddles or hugs, Janus deserved to have his boundaries respected after all.

After a moment he just began cozying up into the couch, and, deciding that Janus’s presence really was comforting, even just having him there, as the seconds went by he started getting sleepy and his eyelids grew heavier, though he kept his eyes on the screen, and honestly yeah he had to admit just being in the same room with Janus made him happy and content.

And honestly no one could blame him for when he just.. rested his eyes for a minute, and then promptly fell asleep.

Janus noticed and after carefully checking to make sure Patton's back wouldn’t hurt when he woke up and he wasn’t cold, Janus just quickly began paying full attention to the movie that was playing again, semi-contently sitting back into the couch, happy to listen to the beautiful songs and choreography. 

—-

It was maybe a half hour or so Later when Patton woke up, though he didn't know, it could’ve been a full hour, but Patton knew some time had indeed passed as he woke up placed to lean back on the couch and not slouch forward on the couch arm,

He also knew some time had passed because Janus was crying.

And from the look of it he was unaware of it, just zoned out and seemingly captivated by the screen with tears running down his cheeks, and after a paralyzed moment of just.. staring at Janus, he lurched forward, “what happened? Is something wrong? Do you need anything?” He asked in abrupt, sleepy concern, though he felt himself waking up more at just the sight of poor Janus crying.

Janus just pointed shakily to the screen (in which one of the scenes where charity and Barnum were hugging and just being happy before Barnum was a trash human being) and just shakily mumbled out “I want that” And while even Janus himself doesn’t seem to really realize he’s crying or even saying these things, maybe he hasn’t slept in a while either- but regardless, even if Janus can’t seem to notice, Patton can, and Patton does, Patton notices how Janus’s voice is filled with sorrow and just nothing short of pain and how it becomes cracked from tears.

And Patton's vision flickers to the tv, which he notices is paused, but he doesn’t seem to really get it just yet, just asking again, softer, “what do you need, hun?” He said, trying to coax out Janus because it seemed if it was enough to make him cry then it wasn’t something he wanted but rather something he indeed very much needed and he wanted to see if he could help out the scaled side.

Janus just seemed to sob a tiny bit louder, which in turn shocked himself for a second because he didn’t realize he was being as loud as he was (though the others fortunately couldn’t hear) and after another second he seemed to finally process he had both been crying and that Patton caught him crying and wanted to help.

Which part surprised him more was anybody’s guess, but after a moment though he just started sobbing more, now incredibly embarrassed but also just not knowing how to stop in the moment and he tried to speak and communicate with Patton nonetheless despite his nose and eyes being red and despite him being miserable from the sobs racking his body “I- i want- I’m sorry I just I want- I haven’t had a hug in so long-“ he stammered out after a lot more effort than he would’ve liked to admit.

and despite Patton's growing confusion he didn’t waste a second in lunging forward and wrapping up Janus in his arms, feeling as Janus went stiff but ultimately ended up melting into a puddle against Patton, hiding his face in Patton’s shirt as he tried to stop crying, he didn’t know why but he couldn’t get himself to stop crying, he didn’t know if something in him had just broke and never wanted to be put away again or what, because while Patton's soft murmurs of “it'll be alright i know it might not feel like it but i promise it will,” did help it definitely didn’t stop it completely like Janus would’ve wanted.

After maybe five minute Patton pulls away slightly- and after seeing how instantly more distraught Janus is once he does he makes sure to still have a grasp on Janus for Janus’s comfort before he sat down against the couch more comfortably, because unfortunately while Patton would want to sit with Janus and give him all the affection the way they were hugging hurt his knees and they were slowly going numb so he settled into the cushions contently, so after getting his legs from under him and making sure they wouldn’t cramp he gently pulled Janus back into his arms and just let Janus melt all over again as Patton held him securely. 

And then, Janus continued to just sob into Patton's shirt, and Patton still doesn’t know why necessarily, having only gotten pretty vague small hints and explanations by a tearful too-upset-to-really-communicate-effectively Janus, but regardless he holds him and after a moment of realizing Janus needs to get this out he just makes sure Janus feels safe as he cries and once the tears finally seem to end Patton quickly summons a bottle of water and opens it for Janus so if Janus’s limbs did feel strained from the exhaustion of those emotions all he had to do was hold it, which he did, and he quickly took a big couple gulps before just laying back in Patton's arms again, obviously utterly exhausted, and Patton decided that they both needed a nap so he took the water and set it down before setting up pillows and grabbing blankets and just, getting ready to rest while also making sure Janus was comfortable, 

It took a couple minutes but Patton was able to get comfortable on the couch with Janus curled into his chest, and the two were able to rest, and luckily Janus didn’t seem to be too opposed to the idea of a cuddly nap.

and when they both woke up if Janus was up for it they would talk, and Patton would make sure Janus was okay, or at least better then before, and hopefully get Janus to go to either Patton or someone else for comfort or just cuddles, so he had moral support and care because Patton was really concerned for his newer friend.

And with that semi-planned plan in mind he closed his eyes and allowed himself to fall asleep once again, happily giving Janus cuddles as he indeed fell asleep and within minutes Janus followed in suit, practically using Patton as a pillow as he fell asleep on Patton's Chest, content and warm, honestly Janus didn’t really expect this to be the result when Patton asked him to watch a movie with him but he was fine with it regardless, he may not have loved the crying bit but it turned out more alright then he really expected it would’ve and he was content.

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Guardian of creatures; AU! Queen x oc female x reader Chap. 11

*Author’s note*

Well this got done within a night shift of writing lol but now we discover the TRUE mythology of the Wizards in this story. I also hope you all enjoy the face cast I’ve picked out for you all, I know some of you are gonna FLIP OUT!! So enjoy this chapter folks and until the next update :)

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@queendeakyy​

@queensdivas​

@queen-paladin​

@geek-and-proud​

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@ixchel-9275​

@simonedk​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@kinole009x​

@wormzteef​

@glitter-at-the-panic​

Chapter 11,

The Truth

__________________________________________________________-

*3rd Person POV*

Serafina and Balthazar walked side by side along the desert as the rain continued to softly pour down on top of them.

“Why didn’t you tell us that you were—the Balthazar when you first met us?”

“I don’t usually give out that information freely.” He answered using the Egyptian’s actual voice.  It was more softer compared to his original voice but it still held a commanding tone to it.

“Also this body……this clearly isn’t your human body. Are you possessing this poor man?”

“He volunteered it freely all those centuries ago when I went to find you and John. Plus I have to keep my true self hidden. As I’m sure you remember that the Sorcerer Supreme can sense every living creature on Earth. And ghosts give out the strongest power force known to our realm. If Grindelwald saw me freely moving about in the world, all hell would break loose.”

“That is true.” She muttered.

“We’ve arrived.” Balthazar soon said as he stopped. Serafina stopped beside him and the two of them stood on top of a semi-high (around 3-4ft) rock wall which stood over more desert.

“You woke me up in the middle of the night just to bring me out further into the desert?” Serafina sassed at the great Wizard.  He softly chuckled and said with a sigh.

“Oh you even have his sarcastic nature.”

“Whose sarcastic nature?”

“Close your eyes dear one.” Serafina closed her eyes before feeling 2 fingers press against each side of her temples and soon Balthazar’s real voice spoke in her head.

‘Over a thousand years ago the world of Sorcerers was a very different place. Instead of one Wizard ruling over all others, all of us lived and helped serve under the 3 great apprentices of Merlin.’

“This was the story we were taught on our first day of school. The history of Wizards.”

‘Indeed. While each wizard and witch lived in their own countries, all Sorcerers were considered equals and called a special sacred place known as the Garden of Merlin, home. Now—open your eyes.’ Serafina opened her eyes and she was greeted with an amazing sight.

Nothing but pure green surrounded her, the sky was just shining it’s dawning colors of pink and blue as the sun continued to rise higher into the sky.  She stood up on a hill and saw wildflowers growing as far as she could see in all various colors and types, trees so big she’d swore they’d brush against the clouds in the sky.

“Did we just time travel?” she turned and saw Balthazar as his true self.  He now stood roughly about John’s height, maybe a couple inches taller.  His ghostly eyes stared at Serafina as he told her.

“There’s too much to see and so little time. Try not to ask too many questions.” With that he walked deeper into the forest.  Serafina ran behind him and when she caught up to him, she looked around the forest.  

Listening to the frogs and birds bring the forest to life, squirrels scampering around the tree branches and deer along with other forest creatures doing whatever it was they do.

“This is where your family was born. Behold.” Balthazar pushed back a shrub and soon they saw a group of wizards all talking amongst one another, children playing games with either one another or with their parents.

“But won’t you disrupt the time stream by being here?”

“No. Because this is just a vision. No one can see nor hear us.” Serafina looked out watching everyone all happy and smiling at one another. Nothing like she had seen before with sorcerers of different nationalities and skin colors truly living like brothers and sisters.

“Hang on you said this is where my story began? That’s not true at all. My family didn’t come around till after the fall of the 3 apprentices.”

“Not true.” He immediately said to her.  She looked at him confused. “You see that little girl over there? Who does she remind you of?” he pointed towards a young girl with long brown hair and blue eyes.

Playing alongside her was a Hispanic man with brown hair, warm brown eyes and a mustache over his upper lip while at his jaw a stubble of a beard was forming.  He wore an elegant golden wizard robe and watched with pride and a warm smile as he saw this young girl practicing her magic.

“She…..she almost looks like me.”

“That’s because she is your ancestor. Wanda Arya Black. And that man she’s with is my brother Archimedes.” Serafina’s eyes widened as her jaw dropped.

“Archi—Archimedes?! As in Archimedes the Wise?! That Archimedes?” she turned to Balthazar.

“Yes is there an echo in here?” wow he was definitely John’s ancestor.  He cleared his throat and said, “He was the only one out of the three of us to take on an apprentice. As the first muggle-born witch she showed prose and potential, so Archimedes took her in as his ward as well as her teacher.”

“But there was never an apprentice in the legend. Balthazar no offense but I’ve been taught your story throughout my entire life. Why did you bring me here?”

“Because you don’t know our story. Come with me.” He walked away leaving Serafina to stare at her ancestorial grandmother as well as the 3rd great apprentice of Merlin.  As she watched the two of them walk away, Serafina turned and followed in the direction Balthazar went.

Day soon turned to night as they kept walking to another part of the garden.  As they stopped, they spotted 3 figures sitting at a clearing looking up at the moon and the stares in the night sky.  Serafina obviously recognized the two men because she was standing right next to him now.

The two men were Archimedes and Balthazar (back when he was alive).  A woman was also with them.  She wore a long, short-sleeved black dress and had long wavy brown hair.  She was around their age and she was sitting upon a rock beside inbetween the two men.

“It’s you guys. And that woman, is that—”

“Shh! Pay attention now.” Balthazar told her.  They turned back towards the three young apprentices and soon they heard Archimedes speak up.

“I know that I was chosen to be his wisdom and destined to teach future young ones of our ways but I—don’t think I’m ready just yet.”

“There’s no way we could ever feel ready for this. I mean how do you think I feel about being the next Sorcerer Supreme?” asked Balthazar.

“Some help you are.” Archimedes scoffed out a laugh.

“I’m not finished!” Balthazar stated.

“I think what cheekbones is trying to say is, is that we’ll be fine. Merlin has never steered us wrong before my brothers. We are all ready for this. And we’ll always have each other for when things get hard, right?” Morgana said as she got off the rock and placed her hands on each of her brother’s shoulders.

“Right.” Balthazar agreed with a strong nod.

“Right.” Archimedes however had a slight hesitant tone to his voice but the smile on his face fooled the other two.  Morgana let out a yawn and Balthazar said.

“I think we’ll go ahead and retire for the evening.”

“Goodnight. I’ll see you both tomorrow.” Archimedes said. As Balthazar and Morgana flew off, together (Balthazar using his magic to fly while Morgana summoned her broom).

“Cheekbones? Really Morgana?” Balthazar asked offensively.

“C’mon Balthazar, you’ve got to admit you have sharper cheekbones than even our Master.” Morgana teased back.  The two of them continued to banter with each other till they were out of sight.

Archimedes softly chuckled and shook his head before growing solemn again and looked back up at the moon.

“You see…….at the time I didn’t realize that while Archimedes was ready to take his place as the Wisdom of Merlin, he wasn’t happy.” Balthazar explained to Serafina.

“You guys have the most famous story in all of Wizard lore, what was it that could make him happy?”

“A friend of yours.” They turned back around and after a little while a female voice spoke up.

“Are they gone master?”

“They’re gone.” He said.  Soon coming out of the shrubs was Wanda.  She was older, now the same age as Serafina and she could see for herself that she looked almost identical to her ancestral grandmother.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t keep him away much longer.” She suddenly shrieked as someone lifted her up and spun her around.

“Well then don’t make me stay away so long next time!” Soon coming into the light of the full moon was none other than Roger Taylor himself.

Serafina couldn’t believe it!  She knew Roger had been around since the creation of the seas but he actually was there before the fall of the 3 apprentices of Merlin? He knew Archimedes the wise personally as well as her ancestral grandmother?! Was that why he seemed to flirt with her cause she reminded him of Wanda? And why didn’t he ever mention it before?

“How can I survive without my favorite witch and wizard?” Roger said as he nuzzled into Wanda’s neck affectionately.

“We’re sorry my friend, we just don’t……don’t want Morgana and Balthazar to—” Archimedes said as he pulled Roger away from his apprentice and gave the Nokken a brotherly embrace.  Roger separated from Archimedes and looked at him confused.

“You—you mean to tell me that Roger. My Roger knew Archimedes as well as my infinite great grandmother!? So what were he and Wanda friends like we are? Or—”

“Archimedes and Wanda both cared for their brother and sister wizards. But the beings they both could be truly happy with, were the Magical creatures.” Balthazar explained to Serafina.

“I just don’t understand why you won’t tell them you don’t want to do this anymore? What will you do tomorrow when Merlin crowns you the Wise?” Roger asked.

“I’ll go through with it. It’s been destined that I become his Wisdom after he passes on so—I will.”

“And then what you’ll forget about all the creatures we’ve helped? Forget about me?” Wanda said.

“No! That will never happen! Querida you know I’ll always love you.” Archimedes said as he cupped Wanda’s cheeks in his hand, stroking her cheekbones with his thumbs.

“Right. You say you love her, but you don’t want your fellow wizards to know what you both have been building! Sure we get it!” Roger huffed as he took Wanda back into his arms.

“This duty was chosen for me at birth what else am I supposed to do?! I don’t have a choice Roger.”

“You weren’t born to serve a purpose. You were born to live your life. You always have a choice.” Roger said.

“He’s right Master. Think of what we’ve worked so hard to build. Do you really want that to go down in flames? I don’t have the power to convince the Wizard council to keep what we’re trying to do secure. I need you. They need you.” Archimedes brushed a strand of Wanda’s hair out of her face and placed a hand onto Roger’s shoulder.

“Come on. This way now.” Balthazar guided Serafina away from the three of them and the two of them walked to another part of the garden.

The sun slowly started to rise but already in Serafina’s mind, dozens of questions were buzzing around her head.  She soon saw Balthazar stop beside a tree and she ran up to catch up to him.

“Where is he?!” Morgana’s voice snapped.  “Sorcerers from across the world are out there waiting for our coronation!”

“We’ve searched everywhere. But no one’s seen him ma’am.” Said a young blonde wizard.

“Well look again! He could’ve been captured or-or killed!” Morgana snapped.

“Lady Morgana! Lady Morgana!” soon a young witch with ginger hair came running up.  She had freckles decorated all over her face and bright green eyes. “I have news about Lord Archimedes.”

“Thank Paracelsus. Where is he?”

“He and his apprentice Wanda left with a creature known as a Nokken. He said to tell you that he and Wanda are safe and not to worry.”

“Left with a Nokken? For what?”

“It seems that he—” she went quiet.  She cleared her throat and continued hesitantly. “He said he had a greater calling. Than staying here, ma’am.” At hearing this, Morgana went silent.  Slowly her face contorted to anger as she sneered softly.

“You said a Nokken right? They’re like sirens yes? It tricked them both and then kidnapped them.”

“No. My Lord Arch—”

“I AM MORGANA LE FEY! MERLIN’S CHOSEN LAWKEEPER!! I DECIDE WHAT’S TRUE!! Where did it take them!?” she snapped with pure rage at the young witch.

“He—they didn’t say.” She said fearfully.

“No matter. I’ll find them one way or another.” Morgana growled lowly.

Balthazar sighed heavily with solemn.  He then turned to Serafina and warned her.

“This next scene won’t be pretty.” He walked ahead.  As Serafina passed over the tree, she was greeted with a gruesome sight.  Hundreds upon thousands of sea creature corpses lay across the land.

From mermaids, to sirens, Nokks to Kelpies.  Every sea creature known to mankind could be seen. Their bodies pale and their eyes soulless with death.

“Morgana declared war between us and the sea creatures. Accusing Roger of seducing both Archimedes and his apprentice and demanding retribution. It resulted in a massacre on a scale never seen before in Wizard history until two other occasions.” Balthazar explained as he and Serafina slowly walked over the corpses of the poor sea creatures.

“Me and Freddie.” Balthazar nodded solemnly.  They arrived at seemed to be the end of the garden. “Heartbroken at his apprentices fall into darkness; with his final breath, Merlin arranged the meeting between the four of them to meet at the sacred, neutral ground known to all creatures.” Balthazar once again pushed the shrubs away and Serafina soon saw Roger, Wanda, Archimedes, and Morgana standing in a landscape that she knew all too well.

“It’s—my home.” She whispered in awe as well as shock.

“I’ve come as Merlin decreed. Now give them back, and all of this can be over.” Morgana took a step when Roger, who was now in his full Nokken form guarding Archimedes and Wanda, snarled as his gills flared angrily.

“Stay back! They came here to talk! That’s all!”

“Please sister stop this. I can’t give you what you want.” Archimedes pleaded.

“That’s not true. You’re our brother!” Morgana tried to reason with him.

“Yes. You and Balthazar have been my brother and sister. You both will always be my brother and sister. But our journey together has come to an end.”

“You’re—abandoning us? For what purpose? What purpose is greater than being with your own family?” Archimedes swallowed his tears and said as he looked directly at Morgana.

“The protection and safe security of all Magical creatures. So please, let them live in peace.”

“There is no peace without you Archimedes! You belong with your own kind. With Sorcerers. With us.” Morgana pleaded.  Archimedes turned his head and refused to look Morgana in the eye.  She took another step before looking towards Wanda now.  “Wanda, you know this is the way. Please child come with me.” Roger’s claws dug deeper into the ground as his fangs grew longer.

“I said….STAY BACK!!” then like the animal he truly was, he launched himself at Morgana, pinning her down and snarled down at her.

Morgana’s gagging echoed in the night as Roger began to choke her to death before he felt ready to deliver the final blow.  He wasn’t just doing this for his Sorcerer friends but he also lost all his best friends and family to this witch.

She cause in a complete genocide against the sea and now he was going to have his revenge.

“Roger stop it what are you doing!?” Wanda exclaimed.

“SHE’S A MONSTER WANDA!! She’ll keep hunting you both. Just like she hunted my people! I. Have. To end this!” Morgana continued to choke as she tried to get Roger off of her but he was too strong for her.

“Roger please listen to me! I know she’s slaughtered your people but—” Archimedes started off.  “If you kill her now, you will be no better than she was. We—we can’t bear to see you……”

“Please Roger let Lady Morgana go! For us.” Wanda pleaded as tears formed in her eyes.  Roger looked at his friends with helpless eyes but when he looked down at Morgana, his eye grew hard and filled with hatred.

But he knew they were right.  If he killed the high witch now, he’d not only have to go into hiding but he’d also be consumed by revenge.  Soon enough what would stop him from killed all other sorcerers? Including Wanda and Archimedes who have shown him nothing but kindness and love. Something his kind never truly understood, until he met them.  He turned back towards them and said softly.

“Only for you both.” He released Morgana and crawled over towards them.  Morgana let out a series of coughs as she slowly raised herself off the ground. Archimedes pressed his forehead against Roger’s and whispered.

“Thank you my friend.” Roger then turned to Wanda who immediately hugged him and kissed his blue/grey scale cheek.  “Sister Morgana I—”

“SANGUINE MALICE!!” Morgana cried out.  Wanda pushed Roger away and took the spell head on. She stumbled backwards as she clenched her stomach with one arm and held her hand to her mouth.  Wanda grunted and groaned before she suddenly vomited out blood.

Serafina watched with horror as she was experiencing déjà vu. For that spell was the very same spell that was used on her by John’s own mother.

“WANDA!!” Both Roger and Archimedes exclaimed fearfully. Roger quickly phased back into his human disguise and caught Wanda as she collapsed and proceeded to keep coughing and vomiting out blood.  Her eyes dripping out bloody tears as they slowly went red.  Her coughs and gagging now pierced the air.

Archimedes joined alongside Roger and took the young witch’s face in between his hands.

“She-she wasn’t the target. It was for the Nokk. But if a witch is willing to die for a monster, then she’s no different!”

“No. No, no, Wanda. Wanda, Wanda hey, hey, hey querida por favor. Por favor, stay with us. Stay with me.” Wanda slowly lifted her bloody hand towards Archimedes’ face and tried to speak, but all that came out were haunting gurgles.  “Shhh, shhh, shhh. Save your strength my darling girl. Shhhh, shhh.”

“Please Wanda just hold on. Archimedes will heal you just hang on we’ll get you help. Just please hold on for us. I love you so much my soulmate.” Roger pleaded as he stroked through her hair.

Slowly her head became limp as her gurgling ceased and her arm fell to the ground, leaving a bloody sweep across Archimedes’ right cheek.

“No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no! No!” Roger pleaded and begged but it was too late.  Wanda Arya Black was gone.  “NOOOOO!!!!” Roger roared out in heartbroken agony and wept over her corpse. Archimedes too couldn’t hold his tears back as he pressed his forehead to Wanda’s and his tears fell upon her face.

When Roger slowly turned his head towards Morgana, his blood boiled with more rage than ever.

“You’ve killed one of your own!” He went to charge towards Morgana but a hand stopped him from moving any further.  Roger looked down and saw that Archimedes had stopped him. Before he could snap, Roger’s anger suddenly turned to fear as he sensed a sudden spike of power rising within Archimedes.

The wizard slowly stood up and Morgana stared at her brother in fear.

“Archimedes?” she softly spoke his name.  Suddenly she felt something beginning to choke her.  She dropped her wand as her hands went up to neck, trying to feel what it was that was choking her but she felt nothing but her own skin.  The sky grew dark, the wind softly picked up and even the moon went dark.  It was then Archimedes spoke in a low, haunting chant.

By the Guardian of all creatures

I give my voice to the Seers.

Soon even the moon itself grew black till it practically seemed to have disappeared completely.  Archimedes began to glow a bright white color as his lower half changed and morphed into a long snake-like tail.  

It soon came towards Morgana as it now revealed that a tail was now choking her.  Coils also formed around Wanda’s body protectively while Roger fell to the ground and submitted in fear, for he knew just what was coming.  

Suddenly from Archimedes’ lips not only did he speak but a thousand other voices both male and female came out of him.

“FOR YOUR CRIMES ON THESE SACRED GROUNDS, YOUR SOUL WILL KNOW NO PEACE! NOT FOR YOU OR YOUR DESCENDANTS!!” Soon Archimedes’ upper-half grew and grew till he stood well over the trees themselves.

His eyes now glowed pure gold with a white slit as the voices continued to speak through Archimedes.

“EVERY DESCENDANT YOU GIVE BIRTH WILL BE MARKED WITH SUFFERING. AND WE, SHALL BE YOUR DEATH IN EACH AND EVERY ONE OF THEM. SO SAYS THE NAGA, THE SEERS OF ALL. THE GUARDIAN OF CREATURES CONDEMNS YOU. MORGANA THE TRAITORUS!”

Morgana had never in her life felt such fear surge through her body.  Her brother had surrendered his very being to the most powerful and dangerous creatures known to the supernatural world.  The eyes closed and with a bright light, all three of them disappeared, leaving her cowering on the ground as the wind blew her hair around her face.

Her expression frozen in pure terror.

From the bushes Balthazar looked down solemnly while Serafina was just in shock.

“None of this—was taught to us at school.”

“That’s because Morgana obliviated the entire Wizard community of what really happened that night, told her own version of the tale. And from there she made Morgana’s law, the execution and hunting of all magical creatures, out of her hate and fear. Years after I became Sorcerer Supreme, and saw for myself what happened that night thanks to the help of Freddie Mercury himself, I exposed her for the coward she really was. But when you obliviate an entire community, there is only so much you can do to rewrite certain parts of history without dire consequences. And her laws and teachings would soon make their way to my bloodline and the massacre of the Naga soon commence.”

Soon the forest changed to the very day the Naga genocide happened with Thomas Riddle Deacon was Sorcerer Supreme.  All of the Nagas surrounded them before the vision went black as Balthazar choked out sadly.

“I did my best to warn him, but—it wasn’t enough.” Soon the two of them were back in the real world.  Balthazar in his vessel’s body, a broken expression on his face as his head lowered in sorrow.  “Archimedes has been missing since that night and Morgana’s law continues to be enforced. That’s why at the end of every Sorcerer Supreme reign they plan, target and exterminate every living creature.”

“You mean Archimedes—is alive?” Balthazar nodded sadly. “This whole time?! So why hasn’t he been protecting these creatures?”

“He renounced his claim to it. So their only hope is for the next chosen one to take the mantel. That’s why Freddie also chose you along with John.”

“What?”

“You are Wanda’s descendant. You are destined to be the next Guardian of Creatures. If you don’t, the cycle will only continue. Archimedes will stay hidden, Morgana’s law will remain, and Sorcerers will continue to kill till only they are the supreme beings. That’s why we want you to help us end it.”

“I’m—sorry Balthazar. That’s too much even for me.” Serafina sat down along the wall and said as she held her legs to her chest. “I’m not a Guardian or a descendant of anyone connected to the 3 apprentices, I’m just……me.”

“You can believe in that and forget what I’ve told you or can continue to help fix a broken world. Your choice.”

For years she had been following in what Freddie has foreseen her and John to do but never did she imagine that she’d have to also lead all Magical creatures into peace.  Not to mention that she now suddenly got a whiplash of the fact that her family line was connected to the 3 apprentices of Merlin through apprenticeship.

But she had come too far now.  If she fled now then all this work would have been for nothing. She’d be abandoning her family yet again and that was something she couldn’t do.  Not when she finally started to rebuild it once again with the return of her adopted sons.

“Okay. What do you need us to do now?”

“Find Archimedes. He’s in his Motherland of what is now known as Chile. He has got to crown a Guardian of Creatures.”

“But Chile has one of the most powerful magical barriers. We wouldn’t even know where to start looking once we got there.”

“He’ll come to you dear one. He’ll trust his apprentice’s bloodline. But uhh… Archimedes won’t train you if you bring forth my descendant let alone know that you’re married to him. Best if you go find him alone.”

“You want me too—abandon my family?”

“You’re not abandoning them. Your destiny lies on a different path than theirs right now. You and Archimedes both need this.”

“I don’t know if I can do this on my own.” Balthazar placed his vessel’s hand on Serafina’s shoulder and both the vessel and Balthazar’s real voice spoke to her.

“When the time comes, I know you will do the right thing.” Their voices echoed in her head.

Back at camp Serafina’s eyes suddenly shot open and she panted heavily as a cold sweat stuck to her entire body.

“Melda?” John’s voice groaned beside her.  She looked down and rested her hand against John’s temple and used her magic to put him back to sleep.

“I’m alright my love. Go back to sleep.” He cleared his throat tiredly before letting out a moan and immediately fell right asleep. Serafina stared outside of the tent and thought to herself, ‘A descendant of Archimedes’ apprentice.’

She turned her night dress into traveling clothes and looked down at her husband and sons one last time.

“I’ll be back my loves. Please don’t worry.” She sent three red auras of magic into the minds of her boys who all smiled in their sleep and let out tired moans.

Serafina got out of the tent and she got on top of her horse and proceeded to race off into the desert.

[aoiaoimm]

Iwaizumi Hajime & Oikawa Tooru: character- couple analysis: who wore the galaxies, who lightened up the stars?

• Written by me.

• Personal thoughts.

• Ao3 link here

"What I am saying then is just because you don’t know how you manage to be conscious, how you manage to grow and shape your body, doesn’t mean that you’re not doing it. Equally, if you don’t know how the universe shines the stars, constellates the constellations, or galactifies the galaxies – you don’t know but that doesn’t mean that you aren’t doing it just the same way as you are breathing without knowing how you breathe."

----Alan Watts from the book The Essence of Alan Watts Vol. 4: Death (1975)

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

On Facebook, there is a topic that came up like this: Can you guys try to list out how many rival pairs are there in Haikyuu?

Someone suggested Hinata and Kageyama. Others said it’s obviously like the relationship between Nekoma and Karasuno, or the equal of Nishinoya and Yaku's abilities. Speaking of the barrier, there's Aone, there's Tendou, there's Matsukawa. Although a bit skewed, there are people who think that this is Bokuto, Kuroo.

At that time, I thought like this: You know, Iwaizumi and Oikawa are also rivals.

The beginning of their story begins with a few small images: Oikawa with the passion for volleyball from an early age, and Iwaizumi who was drawn to his fanciful hobby even when his full attention had been put into the racquet he used to catch insects and forests. Starting from that prologue, Oikawa Tooru's world only had volleyball, and Iwaizumi Hajime's world only had Oikawa Tooru. Although I was very hesitant in writing all the above, but I don’t think that is wrong. If everyone has carefully watched the anime and even read the manga, people will see almost any frame, when Furudate-sensei describes Oikawa's growth, Iwaizumi is always there for him. Supporting him, looking at him, staying behind him. Never once did Iwaizumi exploit anything other than volleyball and Oikawa, perhaps the world for Iwaizumi is just Oikawa, to go to school in the morning, to study, play volleyball together. Perhaps not just a friend, Iwaizumi to Oikawa is a quiet walk after a late workout, a light from a window in a dark night, a clenched fist that adds more warmth. Surely, even when Iwaizumi was just a child, his thoughts were like this: He is simple-minded, he is very stubborn, a crybaby, and he doesn’t know how to take care of himself. I have to look after him, I have to be here. I should be the support he needs, I should take care of him.

Because Iwaizumi Hajime has always been like this: hot-tempered but easy-going, grumpy but firm with his own gentle tenderness. He doesn't ask for anything, because maybe for Iwaizumi, just as long as Oikawa is okay, he is fine either. Oikawa is his best friend, the person he cares about the most, rather than the fact that he didn't start with a love for volleyball like Oikawa, more than an insect cage and racket. Iwa-chan, Iwa-chan, look, this serve is great, let's play volleyball. It’s okay, Oikawa. I choose you.

And then what?

Oikawa collapses in front of him, doesn’t even have even a bit of joy for playing volleyball. This is not just a painful pain for Oikawa, but it is snatching what Iwaizumi wants most- which he has always tried hard to collect and preserve- and shatter to pieces. Iwaizumi was there when Oikawa started his passion for volleyball and watched the way it sprouted around him, unable to stop Oikawa from his own guilt. Iwaizumi was there when they entered the middle school together, became captain and ace, and lost at the hands of Shiratorizawa. Yet it's still not that he can save Oikawa from that painful black hole in the end, until Oikawa explodes in front of him, until Iwaizumi almost couldn’t stop from gung further, before he can do anything with the younger setter that year.

On many forums, websites, media types, in fact, there are many people who have different opinions: think about it, Iwaizumi can choose a softer and less violent way to wake Oikawa up isn't it? Why does he always have to be so violent like that? Are they really friends? They're teammates, aren't they?

The answer is: only because they’re teammates, that they can treat each other as so.

Because they’re friends, Iwaizumi can bring all the anger in him down on Oikawa with a hit on the head. Listen carefully, the sounds from the invisible story page, the sounds that literary minds bring you. The frown on Iwaizumi's face, the way his fists tighten around Oikawa's collar before he gives him a bump on the forehead, they're saying it too.

If they were a normal friends, would it be possible to one of them to immediately hit the other person? If they were only normal friends, would you not hesitate, not be afraid of anything, not feel upset and do something like that?

I'm not promoting violence, I'm trying to understand the emotions that are cornered into muscular movement, in a person who has always been familiar with the watching position, with the role of a supporter.

The blow that Iwaizumi gave to Oikawa, is exactly the same as the punch Oikawa was almost swung towards Kageyama without thinking. If Iwaizumi wasn’t there, what would happen after? But of course, we have no chance to discuss that subject, because Iwaizumi was there, sliding right where he needed to be as if the universe was always, always watching them. Certainly a part of him wanted to scream: look! Feel it! This is what you intend to do with Kageyama! Think it through, what are you thinking? You are a fool! You really have no cure!

But he didn’t. Instead, he said:

“Among us, no one has the ability to win against Ushiwaka in a one-on-one match. But damn, volleyball has six people on the court and that must have a reason! Even if the person on the other side of the net is a first-year genius or Ushiwaka, six who are stronger are stronger!”

Maybe that's what Oikawa wants to hear the most. Perhaps Oikawa doesn't want to hear people call him the best setter, doesn't want to hear people praise him anymore. Perhaps what Oikawa wants is someone to come over and tell him that no one can win against Ushijima alone, that he has already tried his best, that he doesn't need to worry anymore, just rest. Now it's everyone's turn. The people on the same side of the net are all his allies, Oikawa had Kitagawa Daiichi by then, just that he didn't realize they were what he needed until Iwaizumi told him that. He had been rolling around in those hellish years, hurting himself, pressing himself on the involuntary burden like Atlas with the eternal punishment of carrying the earth on his shoulders. Oikawa has never wondered then, what about the other thing?

The joy he craved when playing volleyball.

"Suddenly, I feel invincible."

Feeling that there's nothing that could win over him right then, it's because Oikawa Tooru suddenly realized he was with such a person.

Instead of advising Oikawa Tooru to remove the burden of this planet from his shoulders, Iwaizumi Hajime suggested them to do it together until they couldn't anymore, until the world crumbled on their shoulders.

Instead of smooth and sad goodbye words, Iwaizumi Hajime said that you are the partner I can boast, an excellent setter. No matter which team you join, that fact will never change.

You know, Iwaizumi Hajime is a guy with a lot of "didn't", with a lot of "instead", only for Oikawa Tooru.

Oikawa Tooru is a proud and arrogant jerk, enjoying jokes and compliments about himself. Think, when you are being called "excellent setter", what kind of face would you have? In each match, when you look at the opponent, what kind of face would you have? A smirk, probably. Brown eyes quickly become sharp but a little arrogant, it's also right to say that Oikawa Tooru is a complacent, but it is not wrong to think that he knows his ability, aware of what he is, what he should do to keep it up, how he is better than others, how people look up on him.

However, after watching the anime, I felt like the kind of looks Oikawa gave Iwaizumi when he finished their challenge, was something stranger. I mean, Oikawa has been praised a thousand times before, right? Surely he must not be too surprised anymore? Yet he is. The pupils opened their eyes wide with every single of Iwaizumi's words, he probably couldn't believe this was the person three years ago who slammed his forehead into Oikawa’s face. When Iwaizumi ends his impromptu speech and Oikawa turns around to face Iwaizumi, there is a kind of emotion in his eyes that is usually not there when Oikawa receives a compliment. It is called warmth. It is called pride. It is called a tender emotion, the noble respect between two friends that not everyone can have, when both find themselves stopping by the familiar park, under the moonlight.

"..... But when we confront each other, I will definitely defeat you"

“I have no intention of losing either."

For everyone, this is simply Iwaizumi's fight with Oikawa, or a hint about what will happen in the future, for example, that they will meet again even if they choose two different schools. For me, this is Iwaizumi's last respect for Oikawa when their high school volleyball career is over, as the two prepare to turn to a new chapter of their lives without the other person.

Do you know? Considering someone as a peer competitor is a kind of gentle respect.

Talking about personal issues again, for a while I was very determined to complete the literature test my school took in order to be able to be in the excellent students team. There was this girl in the same class as me who attended the test with me, and when it came to the exam day, she jokingly asked me that because we are in the same class, that can I go easy on her. I also just smiled back then, but actually in my head, I kept thinking. I didn't tell her, but I wanted to say no, I won't need to hold back on you. I will do my best if we compete with each other, because I respect you, because I know you are amazing and powerful enough to me to do that.

So, I think Iwaizumi means the same thing. The fact that he seriously considers Oikawa to be his opponent is kinda odd, because we've always been used to look at him as someone who silently looks after Oikawa, walking behind him, taking care of him. As Ushijima said, almost everyone tried to assert that without Oikawa, Aoba Johsai would be just a mediocre team. But no, after all, Iwaizumi was there, facing Oikawa, on equal position with Oikawa, forcing Oikawa to seriously accept himself as an opponent. Everyone knows this, but to me, I still want to say that Iwaizumi Hajime is really, really strong.

He doesn’t want to stay in the back anymore. He didn't want to be overshadowed by Oikawa, he didn't want to be silent, he wanted to stop watching. He wanted to take a step forward. He wants to be a rival to Oikawa.

Yesterday, while rewatching "Seijou after match", I was surprised to realize Oikawa's eyes were so soft, to realize Iwaizumi was always in his own way, steadfast and thorny until the last minute.

Perhaps Iwaizumi's wish at that time was more than just facing Oikawa on the court. It was his own way of expressing- apart from his deep respect- that he wants to see Oikawa again. He wants to be with Oikawa again, with anything related to volleyball. Perhaps all the little things that Iwaizumi Hajime wants is just to once again feel his connection with Oikawa, once again meet him when the two have became adults,

Once again,

Can be able to play volleyball together.

Oikawa Tooru is covered by the whole galaxy, but Iwaizumi Hajime is the one who lights up the stars.

[greydesertmagic]

Chapter 1 (Part 1)

Eight Hooves stomped into the dusty ground below. From above, A hungry crow observes the two riders as it soars through the clouds. It hoped they would be dead, but much to the crow's disappointment, the two people and their horses are very much alive. Not only are they alive, but they look as if they'll be alive for much longer than the crow cared to stick around and wait for. Those people don't look nearly as hungry as the crow feels, and it would have to find her meal elsewhere. A decent meal is not an easy thing to find in these parts. Or any parts, really. This world reeks of death, yet so much has died so long ago there isn't enough of the living left for a sufficient amount of corpses for the crow to ever feel well fed. The corpses it did find died just as hungry and empty as she likely will. She squawked at the riders in jealousy of the meat they were able to keep on their bones. Granted the meat they have beneath their skin isn't much either. it was still more than what she and most creatures left had. With her feelings vented, she flies far away from them. As she flies, she momentarily casts a shadow over the hat of the older of the two riders. In doing so, she stole from him a precious moment of sunlight. The summer sun of this land shines weakly for roughly four hours a day, from nine in the morning, to one in the afternoon. It never rises very high in the sky, and the heat that the sun emitted is hot and sickly and its light is always an ugly orange hue. The night was as cold as the day was hot. The abrupt shifting in temperatures was not unlike the heat and the chill of a child fighting a fever.

The smaller of the two riders rubs the sweat away from his brow and adjusts his hat nervously. He's riding a small painted mare. The mare was meant to be tall and proud, but malnourishment in her early development made her slender and week. Her rider is just a boy of ten years of age. His name is Alma, and he lovingly refers to his horse as Meadow. A meadow, to his understanding, was a mythical patch of land with so much green grass that it completely covered the dirt. There were flowers that would take home there too. The most amazing of it all was it was surrounded by a forests with big trees all with green leaves as full as a cloud. He read it in a book once and he knew it was true because he sees the meadow every night in his dreams. the sun always shined there, but not like the sun shined when he was awake. Oh no. The sun here was wrong. He couldn't quite describe why, he just knew that his sun was better. Brighter. Not to mention, the sun in his dreams was rarely as hot as the sun currently burning down on him. Every so often, Alma steals a glance at the other rider, his older brother, who was further ahead to lead the way. "Alonzo?" Alonzo is an odd figure. By all means, no person should look at him and find him intimidating. He was only 15. He had long braided black hair and has facial features landed somewhere between soft and angular. His jaw is both defined and thin, and his nose has a slight curve at a downward angle. There was nothing about his appearance that made him intimidating in the least. No. It's the hardened look in Alonzo's brown eyes. It is the same color as Alma's, but Alonzo's eyes are the eyes of someone who has killed, and will not hesitate to kill again. Alma remembered a time where they were much softer, and he missed who his brother used to be. So focused on the path ahead, Alonzo merely replied with a short "mm." To indicate that he was listening. Alma has a theory about that short "mm". Because when Alma is speaking with Alonzo, his reply is also usually a short "mm". Alma had once come to the conclusion that his older brother was not, in fact, listening when he said "mm". One day, Alma gave up and asked Alonzo what his opinion was on their very one sided discussion, not expecting him to answer at all. But without missing a beat, Alonzo gave him a very detailed and thoughtful response. It was so detailed that Alma was sure that that was the most Alonzo spoke to him that month. But when he tried it again the next day with a new topic, Alonzo replied with "mm.", leaving much to be desired. It was very hard for Alma to figure out whether or not his brother was ever listening to him.

The ten year old held this question in for the whole four days they've been traveling. He had to know. "Why do you hate me?" Alonzo stopped his gray horse in his tracks so that when Alma's horse continued forward they were side-by-side. The wide-eyed shocked and concern stare that Alonzo was directing at Alma was the most expression Alma had seen on him in a few years. (The death glare doesn't count.) It took him aback. and he almost wished he hadn't asked if only Alonzo would put that out-of-place expression back where he found it. "What makes you think I hate you?"

Alma inspected the reigns in his hands and rubbed his thumb over the worn leather. He couldn't really look Alonzo in the eyes anymore.

"Well... I mean... ever since you got enlisted and left, you came back different. You don't want to have fun with me anymore. You don't talk to me much either. I thought maybe when I got enlisted too, you'd be proud of me and you'd like me again but now its even worse. You weren't happy to see me at all. You don't want me here." Alma had bowed his head, but now found the courage to look at Alonzo, who's expression has hardly changed. Alma continued. "Why do you hate me? did I do something wrong?" Alonzo's eyes darted over Alma's face, searching through his mind for something to say. He never got the chance. Alonzo's head whipped around at the sound of an incoming horse the rider that was calling out his name. Even Alma forgot what they were talking about when he too, heard the ruckus that was catching up to them. There was a man with a familiar face riding to them at full speed. the force of the hooves on the dirt created a fog of dust trailing behind them. Alma had seen him before. He remembered he once stopped him and Alonzo to talk about something, but he wasn't allowed to hear what about. He never got his name. The Nameless man's face was white and there was old blood on his shirt. Sweat dripped from the hair that poked from his hat. His eyes were wild with urgency and he was out of breath as if he ran here on his own two legs. "Alonzo! There's been an attack!" Alonzo's eyes went wide, darting from Elma and the messenger.

"Where?"

"The East side of the mountain. The witches... There's so many of them... it isn't looking good, we need you! We have to hurry before it's too late!"

Alonzo's horse bolted forward towards the man, but he abruptly stopped her with an almost panicked look to his little brother. Alma moves towards the messenger, ready to take the long journey back home, and into battle. Alonzo shouted out a firm "No!", Stopping Alma in his tracks. He was shocked at first, but he scrunched his nose and said, "But I can help!"

Alonzo quickly jumps off of his horse and grabs Almas arm, shaking it and demanding that he be looked in his eyes.

"Listen to me, little brother. You turn your horse's ass around and you finish that journey to that little town. You show them your badge and the papers and you get a room and you wait for me. You can ask them questions if you want to but... Don't Do. A thing. You hear me, Alma? Don't follow me. I'm coming back for you."

"But-"

Alonzo gave Alma's arm another firm and frustrated shake.

"Do you understand me?"

Alma hangs his head and nods slowly. Alonzo breaths out a sigh and nods his own head, satisfied. He returns to his own saddle and adjusts his hat as his stern look is replaced by something more unsure. Alonzo looks back to Alma, trying to meet his eyes. He hesitates, but then quietly he says to him, "I don't hate you."

Then he turns his horse and rides down the dusty road with the man covered in blood.

[kattegat-kittycat]

Fates Entwined, part VI: Safe In A Dream

After your former clan was brutally murdered, you agree to an arranged marriage with Ivar to keep your social status. You may not always see eye to eye and sometimes even find yourself on different sides of one war or the other, but somehow you can never escape each other no matter how much you try to forget, deny and run. Somehow you always end up in each other’s faces. Sometimes quite literally.

A/N:  As the fact checking goes, there actually was the possibility of mills and flour during the Viking age. I doubt that the mills in Ribe/Ripa actually date back that far, but well...

Don’t get me into the physical locations of all the Viking towns and stuff. It is incorrect in Vikings, so I don’t try to fix it now. Took me around seven hours from the German border to Ribe by bike, so I guess it would be about a day’s worth of travelling by horse. Anyhow. 

There is a little teeny tiny bit of smut in the end, slightly dubcon, little fingering, little oral, nothing in the grand scheme of things, seeing that in Vikings there are people having sex and being raped all the time. I am not that comfortable with that, so, well, it is pretty vanilla. 

As I will have to go back and rewatch a few episode to make sure I get the story woven into the series’ context at least a little sensibly, it might take a couple days (read: might be weeks) for me to update again. Just a heads up. I had this planned out a little differently first, but now I will probably have to wait for the series to end, so I know how to end this story. 

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

On the edge of life.

After all these days are gone. The endless haze will rise. I close my eyes. I'm safe from all harm. I'm safe in a dream.I want you to stay. I want you to be there for me. 'Cause I need your love. I need your touch. I long for your embrace.

Entwined - Safe In A Dream

The people of Ripa had gladly accepted me back in their town and as head of the earldom. Many of them had stories to tell of my uncle ruling them with a hand harder than necessary. I was happy to be back in my hometown at the bank of the river leading through the marshes to the sea. It was beautiful and so much calmer than the hustle and bustle in Kattegat. It was softer than the fjord-environment; there were endless marshes and fields to be farmed and the sunrises were the most beautiful I had ever seen, I was sure of that. I also loved hearing the watermills at Neder-, Mellem- and Overdammen in the inner city, producing all the flour we could wish for.

My family’s estate had been ransacked, but with the support of a few helpful hands, we were able to rebuild it pretty quickly. I knew I would have to return to Kattegat in time to be back when Ivar came home, but I also had to think of my earldom now. Ripa was the oldest town in the north, and I was proud to be its earl.

I talked with my old teacher, Ole, about setting up a council to decide over all important matters in my absence and I trusted Ole to be its head. I was more than happy when he agreed to my suggestion. He had been my teacher when I was younger, so I knew I could place the fate of my home and my people in his hands. After a couple of weeks in Ripa, when I was sure peace could and would be held up even if I went away, I gathered the shield maidens Lagertha had sent with me and we made our way back to Hedeby.

But there were no signs of Lagertha or most of the inhabitants here. The town was uncharacteristically quiet considering the amount of warriors and shield maidens that usually roamed the streets and went about their daily businesses. As we drew closer, we realised that except for a few men guarding the town and the traders, villagers and farmers, the city was empty. We rode up to the Ting house, where I expected to find Lagertha or at least someone who could tell us, what had happened. As I had thought, all we found was her secondary, a woman called Ragnheiđur. She came toward us as we neared the house and greeted us calmly.

She was an imposing woman, broad shoulders and long blond hair, even for a viking warrior she was really muscular. She was as strong as most men and you could see the silent confidence in her every move. She had grown up in Hedeby and had been taken under Lagertha’s wing when Lagertha came here. As I trusted Ole with Ripa, Lagertha trusted Ragnheiđur with Hedeby, because she knew that she wanted the best for her hometown. Astrid was the person Lagertha trusted most, but Ragnheiđur was a close second. I also had to admit that it was a compliment to Lagertha’s tactical thinking that she had left some of her best fighters in Hedeby. Firstly, they could keep foreign forces at bay and second of all, it led people to underestimate Lagertha’s real military power. I made a mental note and then frowned. It only left one question:

“Where is Lagertha?” I asked Ragnheiđur, as soon as I was within earshot.

“Well, hello to you, too. I hear you had a successful journey to your hometown, Earl of Ripa.” Even though she had just shoved my nose into my own impoliteness, she was easy to laugh and did just that.

“I am sorry, there was a lot on my mind. Hello and greetings to you, Ragnheiđur. How come you are here to greet me and not Lagertha? I wanted to thank her personally for her help.”

Ragnheiđur shook her head, but smiled. She was young, but pretty unimpressed by my impatience. She herself was not the most patient person, so she knew how to take my blunt question.

“Haven’t you heard? Lagertha is now the reigning Queen of Kattegat. She overthrew Queen Aslaug who renounced her claim on the throne.”

I was about to just turn my horse around, but Ragnheiđur stopped me.

“It is about to get dark and you probably haven’t eaten. Please come in and sit with me before you leave for Kattegat. You won’t be able to change anything anymore. What has been done, is done.”

I gave her a stern look. “What has she done?”

Ragnheiđur’s face turned sad. “You know what happened. You know why she took the opportunity while you were away. You might not have been Aslaug’s greatest fan, but Lagertha knew you would try to stop her, when she wanted to kill the Queen.” She grabbed my horse’s reigns and petted its nose. “Come in and eat. You won’t change the past by endangering yourself. Don’t forget, you are important now.” She grinned at me as she spoke those words. She was so open and easy to listen to, I didn’t think twice and followed her advice.

I got off my horse and she gave its reigns to her servant girl, who brought it into the direction of the stables. I followed her into the Ting house and the shield maidens who had followed me to Ripa entered just behind us. It would probably be the last quiet evening for a while. The last evening I would not have to talk and act politics, because Ragnheiđur already started asking me about my hometown and if it still looked like I remembered it. As dinner was served, she suddenly turned a little quieter.

“Would you mind taking the princes with you to Kattegat when you are leaving?” she then asked.

“The princes?” I asked, a little confused.

“Yes, trust me, it is a long story.” And with that she started to recount the happenings of the last weeks, clearly marking her distaste in some of the events, but who was she to question her earl? I could see how I would have to treat around Lagertha in the future, because I, too, had sworn her allegiance, just like Ragnheiđur had. When I asked her if it caused her any problems, she smiled again.

“Of course we are not always of the same opinion, but in the end, I find it easier to follow Lagertha than any other earl or queen. I know who she is, I know what she wants, she doesn’t play unnecessary games. She is a just ruler. I am also in a unique position to learn a lot from her, about leadership, about life, about making hard decisions.”

I considered her words and felt relief wash through me. Maybe I had made the right decision, even if it hurt.

*

Ragnheiđur came to wake me up the next morning. “Y/N, you want to wake up. Margarete just freed the princes and they are getting ready to leave.”

I sat up in an instant, looking straight into her dark brown eyes, as I opened mine. “Gods, Ragnheiđur, you scared me.”

She just chuckled and grinned. “Haha, sleepy head, get dressed and get yourself ready, I’ll tell the princes to wait.” She gave me another look, then she left the house.

When I got out into the broad daylight, Ubbe and Sigurd stood beside their horses, obviously frustrated by the delayed departure, but waiting for me. Or at least Ubbe was, Sigurd was flirting with Ragnheiđur as best he could. She smiled at his jokes, but I could see that she wasn’t impressed. When Ubbe saw me, his face turned darker than before.

“Oh, nice, the traitor makes her entry.”

Ragnheiđur suddenly turned to him and gave him a shove. “Hey, you don’t get to talk about her that way! She is worth more than the two of you.”

I smiled ruefully. “Thank you Ragnheiđur, but he is kind of right. I did betray my promise to his brother.”

Ubbe threw me a dark look. “You know as well as I do, that I am talking about you turning your back on my mother and leaving her defenseless.”

I snorted. “You mean like you did when you came here? Don’t try blaming that on me.”

We stared each other down for a moment, until Ragnheiđur had enough. “You wanted to leave, Ubbe, now you are free to go. Don’t make a scene, just go.”

I expressed my gratitude to Ragnheiđur and then got on my horse, waiting for the princes to do the same. When I heard the sound of their horses following me, I could feel myself relax a little. We rode in silence for the first part of the journey, until Ubbe rode up next to me. Sigurd was still behind us and he didn’t make any attempts at riding up either. He seemed to be content where he was. Ubbe on the other hand had something to say.

“So, you made a pact with Lagertha to gain her support in your attempt at overthrowing your uncle. How did that go for you?” he asked way too sweetly. I wanted to slap him.

“Fairly well for the second part. Turns out, she didn’t really want my help though, but rather to get me out of the way.”

Ubbe’s eyes fixated on me. “So, you were not a part in the battle for Kattegat?”

“No, I got injured claiming Ripa and I only came back yesterday. And that was what Lagertha had hoped for. She knew I had no trouble leaving Kattegat to her, but I would not have let her kill your mother.”

“Why would she…”

“We are pretty similar. She did not only want her home back. She wanted revenge on the woman who took it from her.”

Ubbe objected: “Our mother has not stolen anything…”

Sigurd gave a humorless laugh from behind us. “My dear brother, you of all should know that our mother is far from perfect, she is manipulative and used to getting what she wants, whatever she needs to do for it. I mean, she came back to Kattegat, pregnant with you, driving Lagertha out of her own home. She used the trouble of a girl without a family to get her crippled son married. I am more confused that Y/N would have defended her than by the fact that Lagertha would want to kill her.”

It was the first time, I actually appreciated something Sigurd had said and I looked at him with surprise. “I was indebted to her. And while it might seem unlikely, I did like her. Not very much, but more than a little.” He threw me a sceptical look.

“You do realise she only used you, do you?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I cannot claim that I have been at a disadvantage because of that. I did not like the way she went about it, but I do think that she believed herself to be kind in helping me, even if it served her own ends.”

Sigurd snorted. “You really do like our brother. How very odd.”

We rode in silence again, until Ubbe said:

“So, I hear you’re an earl now.”

I snorted. “I guess I am. But don’t tell Ivar that I am more important than him.”

Ubbe burst into laughter. And Sigurd shook his head in amusement.

“So, I guess congratulations are in order?” Sigurd said from behind us.

I shrugged. “I only claimed my rightful title. And I got my revenge.”

“Like Lagertha?” Sigurd asked again.

“No. I killed all his heirs and loyal followers as well. You don’t want to keep around people who hold a grudge against you. Look where it brought my uncle. Or your mother.”

“That is cold blooded.” Ubbe remarked and I shrugged.

“It is war. There is no place for feelings in a war.”

Sigurd frowned. “Why do I still keep on being surprised by how similarly you and Ivar are thinking?”

“Thank you.” I smirked at Sigurd.

His frown went deeper. “That was not a compliment.”

Ubbe and Sigurd turned uncharacteristically quiet. Until Sigurd piped up:

“Should I feel guilty for not really feeling grief about the loss of my mother?”

Ubbe’s face turned dark. “We do not know that Lagertha killed her! Maybe she is still alive. All we have are speculations.”

I gave a nod. “I cannot see your mother any more. But then again, I could only see her future when I touched her.”

“So, what can you see, if you cannot see what is going on in Kattegat or with our mother?” Ubbe asked.

“Your brother. I can see your brother.” I answered solemnly.

“He is sitting in a dark room somewhere in England. Your father is still with him, but Ivar is sure that they are going to kill him. He is ready to die with your father. He cannot really understand their language, so he doesn’t know what is going on and Ragnar won’t tell him much. He is afraid of losing him, now that he spent some time with him.”

Sigurd rolled his eyes. “Precious little Ivar was probably a big help for father.”

“He was. Ragnar had to carry him through the woods, yes, but Ivar helped him kill the traitors in their midst who were ready to sell them out to the English.”

“How do we know you don’t just make that up?” Ubbe asked. It was not a vicious question, just a curious one.

“You don’t. I don’t even know how I know this. But I can tell you one thing, your brother will not come back the same person after this. I am a little afraid of what the news of your mother’s death might do to him. He will need his brothers after that.”

Sigurd’s voice turned bitter. “We don’t even know if Ivar comes back and if our mother is dead. But I am quite sure that our little momma’s boy could use some harsh reality to wake up and realise the world does not revolve around him.”

“That, Sigurd, is the problem.” My voice had turned sharp. “He is aware of that and that is why he will want to create a world that revolves around him.”

“Should you be speaking about your husband in that manner?” Ubbe asked more amused than actually affronted.

I cocked an eyebrow. “Ubbe, I will do anything to prevent my husband from going on an insane quest to prove his worth to the Gods. But to keep him safe, I have to face the harsh reality of who he is and who he could turn into.”

Ubbe’s piercing blue eyes met mine. “Is he your husband or your quest?”

I shrugged. “A little bit of both. But before all else, he is my life.”

“Well, good luck with that.” I heard Sigurd whisper.

 *

 When we arrived back in Kattegat, I found my fears proven right. Lagertha had crowned herself queen and killed Aslaug. But there was nothing, I could do or could have done. Even if I had been in Kattegat, there would have been no chance for me or the princes to help. The people of Kattegat remembered their former leader and Ragnar’s first wife and they supported her. Nobody had liked the etheral and distant Aslaug much, whereas most people still remembered how Lagertha had helped built the foundations for Kattegat to become what it was now. I looked at Ubbe and Sigurd and I could see in their faces that they understood as well. I wondered about Margarete, but Sigurd quickly explained to me that she would be coming back to Kattegat the next morning, at least that was what Ragnheiđur had told them.

I entered the longhouse behind the two princes and watched on as they witnessed what we already had suspected; there was no way to fight Lagertha. Ubbe tried to avenge the death of his mother in a fit of rage when he saw my visions had turned reality and became even angrier when he heard that they had been quick to burn her body as well.

I had held myself in the background, because I had no reason to fight Lagertha, but after the commotion had settled and Ubbe and Sigurd had left the longhouse, Lagertha stood up and came over to me. It was no leisurely stroll, it was a prowl, she was ready to pounce and rip my throat out, if I did anything wrong.

I took a knee and bowed before her. “My queen.” I addressed her and left no doubt where my loyalties lay.

“Y/N, for a moment there, I was confused as to what to think about you appearing with the sons of Ragnar.” She remarked, making sure beyond the shadow of a doubt that I was hers.

I stood and looked at her calmly. “We had the same road to travel, so Ragnheiđur suggested we travel together. Greetings from her and Hedeby, they extend you their congratulations.”

She gave an appreciating little nod. “Thank you. So, tell me, how did your voyage out west go?”

“The earldom of Ripa also extends its congratulations and is at your service should our help be needed.” I said and beamed at her proudly. She took my shoulder and drew me into a tight hug. Even though she touched my shoulder only lightly, I cringed a little in pain. The wound had healed up well, but it still gave me some pain and aches. Lagertha’s eyes followed her hand and noted the reaction.

“I am sorry my queen, I got injured in the battle.”

“That’s a small price to pay to restore the world as it should have been in the first place. We just followed our fates. So you were able to overcome the usurper and kill him?”

“Him and his whole kin. I do not believe in misguided clemency. He tried to erase my family from the world and so I erased his.”

“You probably don’t think it wise of me to keep the sons of Aslaug around?”

I smiled at her wearily. “I am in no position to question your judgement on the matter. And I am thankful as my husband is one of them.”

She gave a nod. “I know. So be assured that unless provoked, I could never kill any son of Ragnar. Also, I know them to act before they think and that makes them less of a threat. The only one not lacking their father’s vision is Ivar, but as long as you can convince him to refrain from going after me, you must fear no harm.”

“It will be hard work, but I will do my best.”

“Surely he will listen to you.” Lagertha said and left no doubt that he better do as she said.

“You haven’t really met my husband until now, have you?” I asked her, slightly amused.

She frowned. “Well, you better find a way to appease him, because I will not spare him if he makes an attempt on my life.” There was a definitive edge to her voice that told me how serious she was.

I bowed my head and gave a nod. “I am aware of that, my queen. I am, however, also aware of the fact that he can be very impulsive and please consider that he is the youngest of the sons and had a close bond with his late mother.”

Lagertha looked at me for a long time, then she gave a nod. “I will take that into consideration”, then she smiled, more to herself than at me, “Ragnar was impulsive as well, when he was young. But well, we don’t even know if they will come back. And then Ragnar will have to…”

“Ragnar will not be coming back to Kattegat.” I told her.

Her eyes narrowed. “And how would you know that?”

“I saw it. I am not as gifted a seer as Aslaug, but Ragnar will be handed to King Aelle. And you know that there is no love lost between those two.”

“And what makes you think your husband will survive if even Ragnar had to surrender?”

I smiled at that. “You really don’t know my husband.” There was a sense of pride that came with these words. Ivar was sly. He was cunning and he was stronger than people gave him credit for. But the less she knew, the better.

She gave me a pitiful smile, but I knew, I was right.

 *

 I found Margarete in the kitchen the next day, preparing food for the night. She seemed slightly scared, but mostly angry. There had been no love lost between her and Queen Aslaug, but at least Aslaug hadn’t played her for a fool and used her to her own ends. She resented Lagertha for playing her.

“Can you not free me from Lagertha? I do not wish to serve her, she tricked me into deceiving Ubbe and Sigurd.”

I shook my head with a sad smile. “I am afraid not. I have yet to prove my worth to Lagertha, also, I do not have the money or the means to buy you from her.”

Margarete made an impatient gesture. “What good was your becoming an Earl, when you don’t have any power?”

I lost my patience with the girl. “Margarete! You know how to get out of this! You were already on your way to convince Ubbe to marry you.”

Margarete looked at me with wide eyes. “How do you…?”

“I know these games. A lot of slaves have slept their way to freedom. I don’t judge you for it, people have to do what they can to be free.”

“Like marry Ivar the Boneless, gain military power and overthrow their uncle?”

It sounded almost as bad as sleeping your way to freedom. Well, to be honest, had Ivar not been Ivar, it would have been exactly the same. I still smiled at her.

“And this is why I like you. We are very similar in some regards.”

Margarete took a deep breath and looked at me levelheaded.

“But Ubbe has nothing to say in whatever Lagertha does. She might very well just kill him.”

I shook my head. “He is still a son of Ragnar and that means something to the people in Kattegat. She could never kill one of them, least of them Ubbe. He looks too much like his father. So go on, take your chance. You deserve more than this. But be careful, Margarete. I cannot save you, I hold no power in this town.”

Her head bobbed in understanding. As I was about to go, she grabbed my wrist.

“Thank you. For not judging me based on what I have to do. If you ever need my help…you know where to find me.”

I smiled at her. “Just promise me to be careful.”

 *

 I could feel the mood change in Ivar, when Ragnar was handed to Aelle. I mostly felt it through the flare of anger being lit in Ivar’s mind. I could feel the slow burn of hatred consume most of his thoughts and cloud his mind, as he set sail to Kattegat.

I wasn’t there when Ivar’s boat landed at the harbour and when he confronted and challenged Lagertha, I had been to Hedeby for the day and as I returned, I heard people talk and chatter. And then I felt his presence in the town. It was not only his own anger that seeped through the streets, but also the people’s apprehension as they all knew that Ivar coming home to the news of his mother being dead at the hands of Lagertha did not bode well. I heard from somebody that Ivar had been escorted out of the longhouse back to his old dwellings. So, I entered our home, unsure if this even was our home anymore. I took a deep breath and pulled aside the curtain dividing his space from the main room of the house. He was sitting on the bed and his head shot up, as soon as I entered the space. An unreadable grin spread across his face, splitting it in two, making it look like a horrible grimace.

“My wife. My beautiful moon… Tell me, how is your shoulder, love?”

I quickly touched my fingers to the scar on my left shoulder and knew from the calculating look in his eyes that he knew. I closed my eyes.

“How do you know?” I asked calmly.

He snorted and tilted his head. “It’s kind of a funny story…” And with that he took the helm of his shirt and pulled it over his head, revealing a scar that looked exactly like the one I sported and that had not been there before he had left for England. “I had a dream. I got hit by an arrow while conquering Ripa, a town that I had never seen before, but now know better than I care for. I woke up screaming in agony. So… if this is true, you probably went to Ripa.”

I gave a nod. Why did I feel my cheeks burst up in red hot shame, when I had nothing to be ashamed of? “Yes, I did.” I said in a little voice that didn’t even sound like me.

“Even though you promised me to stay in Kattegat.” And there was the accusational tone, I had been waiting for.

“Well, I am here now, am I not?” I countered and felt more like myself again.

His eyes glared at me like blue flames. “But you went to Ripa and endangered yourself.” He pressed at me through clenched teeth.

“I did what I needed to do. And now I am back here for you.”

“You could have been killed!” He screamed at me, which took me aback. I knew his low growling, his mocking, his sardonic undertones, his playful threats, but never had I heard him scream like this. He sounded more like a wounded animal than angry. That surprised me the most. Ivar wasn’t only angry, Ivar was afraid.

“But I wasn’t killed, that’s what matters.” I tried to soothe him.

“No, it is not! I cannot have you traipsing around getting yourself in danger!”

He had pushed me over the edge of my empathy. “And what is it to you?! You were in England trying to get yourself killed!”

“It matters because I don’t want to spend the rest of my life alone! I cannot lose you!”

“But I am supposed to lose you and be fine with it? I know you are planning to go back to England!”

That took him by surprise. “I…They killed my father! I have to go back to avenge his death!”

“Exactly!!!” I screamed at him. “As did I! I also had to avenge my father’s death! So what is the big difference?”

Ivar looked at me for a moment, before he growled. “You are mine!” As an afterthought he added: “Also, it seems like I get injured if you get hurt. So, you die, I die.”

I raised my eyebrows. “But that probably works the other way around as well!”

Ivar had become quieter and quieter. Now he looked at me, eyes wide with simple fear. “So…you don’t know what is happening to us?”

I calmed down instantly. Shook my head. Looked him in the eyes. “I don’t. Your mother was the only one who might have known.”

His face fell and he shook his head. “I cannot believe that my mother and father are both dead.”

I took a step toward him, still hesitant, still not sure how he would react. He looked up to me, his eyes glinting with moisture. When I was close enough, he took my wrist. His grip was painfully hard on my skin, as he tugged me toward him. His other hand took hold of my upper arm and he pulled me down onto the bed with him. His lips found mine before I could say or do anything, the kiss forceful and possessive. He pushed me down beneath him and shoved my dress and underskirt up to my hips, pushing it further up, until he had me pinned beneath him, dress up around my waist. I felt exposed until he kissed my stomach, his hands gliding beneath the folds of the fabric to my breasts. I wanted to protest, but I couldn’t find the words.

“Ivar…”

He growled as he bit into the flesh just beneath my right breast, then kissed it.

“You are mine, Y/N, you will always be mine.”

I sighed, my hand gripping his hair that had become longer and a little shaggy. I liked it and gave it a tug.

“And you are mine, but you cannot just do with me as you please!”

Ivar looked up at me, across my upper body, his eyes like those of a feral animal.

“Then tell me you don’t want this!” he growled.

For a moment, we stared at each other, Ivar motionless above my naked lower body.

I made a frustrated sound and wriggled out of my dress all the way just to unceremoniously drop it over the edge of the bed. Ivar looked up and down my exposed body, then his eyes caught on the scar on my shoulder. He touched its twin on his own body and compared the two with wonder. I was just as fascinated by the scar he should not have, so I sat up and asked him to turn around. It really went through. Just like my shoulder, his had been pierced through, he had the same identical scar on the back of his shoulder that I had. I swallowed hard and looked into his eyes.

“Ivar…”, he looked back with concern, “I am scared.”

At that, he took me into his arms, his skin feeling comforting on mine.

“I am as well. Do you understand now why I cannot have you getting yourself in danger? I don’t want us to die. It is bad enough that I have to fight the English and risk your life.” He placed a kiss on the spot where my neck met my shoulder and I sighed.

“Let us not argue about this any more. I have missed you, my husband.”

“Well, you kept yourself busy, that much is clear.” He chuckled. “If you hadn’t broken your promise, I would be immensely proud of you, my earl.”

I kissed his jaw. “Tell me about your vision, how was it?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“If I am being honest, it scared me. Seeing you, seeing you in danger, it was bad. Father threw an empty cup at me, because I did not stop screaming.” He smiled, almost fondly.

I kissed the side of his cheek, gently tracing his cheek with my fingers, then placed a kiss on his pulse point. I could feel the life humming through his veins, the life he shared with me, and suddenly, I felt possessive, too. I nudged him down onto the furs and almost jumped him, kissing his jaw, his throat, his collarbone. Ivar dragged me onto him and was only happy when I straddled his waist. He looked up at me and his hands reached for my breasts. He kneaded them, then sat up to put his mouth around one of my nipples that already stood at attention. He softly bit down, sucked, making me moan as a shiver ran down my spine. He had talked about women with his father and he was all too eager to try his hand at some of the things his father had mentioned.

As he sucked my nipple, his hand massaged my other breast, pinched the other nipple. I took in a sharp breath.

His brothers were sleeping in the adjoining rooms, only divided from us by a curtain. I had heard Ubbe and Margarete often enough to know what positions Ubbe favoured, but I did not want the same notoriety. As I thought about that, I missed Ivars second hand drifting down and slipping in between my legs. Only when he touched me in my most sensitive spot, I gasped. He rubbed a little, moved his fingers back and forth, always gauging my reaction. He smiled when I bucked my hips forward as he touched me, before he quickly turned us around, lying above me, hand still between my legs. He kissed my lips shortly, then kissed down my midline, until he was just below my belly button. He looked up to me, as if asking permission, and when I gave a slight nod, he slipped further down, parting my legs and suddenly sucking on my clit. I almost squealed at the sensation, but bit my lip instead, my hip pressing upwards. I could feel Ivar hum appreciatively against my skin and the vibration almost drove me wild. His slight attempt at a beard didn’t look like much, but it teased me even further, when his lips explored a little further and he found my entrance. His tongue darted in and out of me a few times, making me grab at his hair. He took that as the right direction and inserted one of his fingers into me, as his lips found their way back to my clit. He pressed his tongue up against it, then licked along all the while moving his finger in me. He added a second finger, which was enough for now. He went back to sucking and his fingers fucked me faster than before, my hips meeting his pace. As his tongue once again lapped at me, my hips stuttered and in spite of my former promise to myself, I loudly moaned his name and tugged on his hair as I came.

My eyes fell closed for a moment, but when he came to rest beside me, I looked into his eyes. He beamed with pride and licked his lips. Then he kissed me with the fervour, I had missed. I could taste myself on his tongue and sighed into the kiss, making him chuckle.

“Did that feel good?” he asked mischievously.

I beamed at him and let him have the glory. “No, not good. Amazing.”

I had never seen the joy that spread across his face before, not on Ivar, and it made my heart jump a little.

“Gods, Ivar, I do love you.”

He chuckled and nuzzled his nose in the crook of my neck. But I was more interested in something else. I slowly let my hands wander across his body, felt his abdominal muscles contract beneath my fingers, until I reached the helm of his pants. I heard his breath catch, but he did not stop me, as my hand dipped into the front of his pants and touched his almost totally hardened member. My hands closed around his shaft and started to move gently back and forth and I could hear the change in Ivar’s breathing. He did feel something. His hips started to move in time with my slow strokes, became a little more demanding after a while, as I felt his prick harden a little more. He moved with me and after a while I let my finger swipe over the tip and then pump him a little faster. Ivar’s breathing became eratic until the movement of his hips stopped and he gave it one violent snap of his hips and shuddered. There was only a few driplets, but Ivar still seemed content and happy. It wasn’t much in the way of a climax, but it was more than nothing. I looked at his face a little worried.

“Did I make you feel something?” I asked him, shyly.

He smiled back at me. “You always make me feel something.” He gave me a kiss.

“No, I mean… did that… did that feel good for you?”

He sighed, then hummed contently. “Yes, yes, that felt very good. One could even say…amazing.” A cheeky grin spread across his face, when I looked at him a little outraged, and his eyes only sparkled with humour, before he kissed me again.

“Y/N, I will never have sex like other people do, but this? This was enough. For once, pain has not been the predominant thing I have felt and that means a lot.”

I smiled a little smile. “Yes?”

“Yes.” He chuckled in my ear. It was one of the most beautiful sounds in the world. It was a pity that I would not hear it for years to come.

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

The Whole Truth - 6

(This chapter is another long one, so use this AO3 link to read more comfortably, or catch up on any you missed! Aziraphale and Crowley find a solution to the curse problem...)

Friday

“Good morning, dear,” Aziraphale said, soft and gentle, when Crowley finally started to stir. He kissed the demon’s forehead, then his nose. “You’re so lovely when you sleep. So warm. So—”

“Knock it off,” Crowley mumbled with a sleep-heavy smile. “Ruin my reputation.”

“You’re a very heavy sleeper, you know,” Aziraphale continued, feeling perfectly content. Some time ago, he’d sat up against the headboard and Crowley had immediately shifted, curling up to lay in his lap. It made for a stunning contrast, the black clothes and red hair against the white duvet.

Aziraphale leaned down and pressed his lips against Crowley again, the temple, then the cheek, the jaw. “I’m going to kiss you today, my love,” he said calmly, though Crowley’s eyes opened in alarm. “I won’t be able to stop myself.”

“Do you…still want me to stop you?” The back of his fingers brushed Aziraphale’s cheek.

“No. I don’t want that at all. But I still think it’s the best idea. Also, I needed a distraction, so your hair is ruined. I’m not sorry, though, and I’m sure you told me bed hair is popular. This probably isn’t what it means, but you could start a new trend.”

Crowley pressed a finger to Aziraphale’s lips, but he was smiling, and his eyes were gentle. “I have things to tell you. But we should get up first.” Crowley sat up, causing his hair to shift. It flared out in every direction, in spikes and waves that defied gravity. Aziraphale’s fingers had been very busy for nearly an hour. Crowley patted at the hopeless mess. “I need to fix this. Then we talk.”

 --

Crowley entered the kitchen just as Aziraphale was setting his omelet on the table. “Sorry, dearest, I know I didn’t ask to use your stove, but as I said…distractions.” He glanced up and, oh dear, Crowley had changed his hair into loose waves and curls again. Aziraphale’s fingers ached to reach for it, to see how much softer it was without all that product in it to keep it in place…

He quickly sat down and started eating.

“How are you feeling? You know, aside from…”

“Aside from the need to constantly assure you of the depth of my love? It is truly fathomless. Do you remember, back in Rome—”

“Yes, besides that.” Crowley still hovered back by the counter, looking nervous.

“I feel…anxious. Defenseless. I’m very much afraid every time I begin to speak, not knowing quite what I’ll say or do. And when I remember this isn’t some random chance, that it was a deliberate attack by a demon, even if directed at another angel, I feel…” he tapped his fork against the plate. “I feel violated.” A weak smile. “And yet, so very glad you’re here, my dear.”

“Angel, I don’t…” Crowley sank into a chair facing Aziraphale, clearing his throat nervously. “You’re not going to like what I say next.”

“Well, I’m already disappointed in this conversation.” He said breezily, watching with horror as his mind hopped to another subject. “I was hoping you would sit in my lap. Next time I’ll have to hide the other chairs.” Oh, not again. He resumed eating with frantic speed.

Long fingers moved across the table and grasped his free hand. “Aziraphale…there isn’t a demonic curse on that book.”

“I beg your pardon?” Aziraphale put his fork down, very nearly pulled his hand away. But then Crowley squeezed his fingers and he decided he would never let go for the rest of eternity. “Yesterday, I cornered someone outside a coffee shop and told them in exquisite detail about the time you and I met Christopher Marlowe. I told a customer on Tuesday that he couldn’t purchase a book because I didn’t like the way he smelled. And just now I have the overwhelming urge to tell you I once spent a century trying to teach myself to draw just so I could have an image of you, but I could never quite get the nose right; but now the lighting in this room is absolutely perfect and I want to try again with you in front of me and – Crowley, how can you say this isn’t a curse?”

The demon calmly waited for the words to subside, then inched his chair closer, closer, until their knees brushed under the table, until he could reach around the plate and take Aziraphale’s other hand as well.

“I said it’s not a demonic curse. And it’s…a human curse wouldn’t affect you. Which leaves…”

“Angels? No, we don’t – angels don’t make cursed objects.” He tried to pick up his fork, to indicate that the matter was closed, but his mouth refused to play along. “I suppose we could. I mean, what’s really the difference between a cursed item and a blessed one?” The horrifying thoughts rose in his mind, one after the next. “I’ve – I’ve certainly done my share of curses, covering for you. They aren’t structurally all that different. And I’ve seen angels create objects that heal, or deliver inspiration…ones that can be used to locate and identify wicked or deceitful beings…oh, Lord.”

His hands convulsed, and Crowley held them, tighter. “I know, Angel, I know…”

“It forces you to tell the truth. To confront secrets you hide from yourself.” His stomach twisted. “That’s not demonic at all. How did I…I’m so stupid. How could I miss something like that?”

“No, come here—” With a tug, he guided Aziraphale over to him, pulled the angel into his lap, wrapped arms around him. “You were looking at the book, not the magic. Like you said last night – it was the perfect trap. For you. A mystery you couldn’t quite solve. How were you supposed to resist? And the longer you touched it, the stronger the compulsion.”

“I’m…the target?” His mind whirled, even worse than before he’d slept. “But who…why…no, the raid…”

“There was never any raid, Angel. Everything’s been quiet on our end for months. It was all a lie.”

“A…another angel…did this to me? On purpose?”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Don’t cry, Aziraphale, please.”

“I’m…” Aziraphale sniffed, and realized his cheeks were drenched with tears. When had that started? He wasn’t upset, or angry. He felt strangely calm inside.

No, not calm. Numb.

Crowley held him closer, rocked him, pushed Aziraphale’s head down to rest on his shoulder.

“Have to tell Gabriel. He’ll help me. Always so…so kind. Gives me…so many chances…when I fail, or…or…” He shut his eyes. “He’ll help me…”

“Angel. He gave you the book.”

“No, he…he can’t know. He’s an Archangel, they…they watch over us…care for us…”

Crowley’s lips against his forehead. “I’m sorry. The – the blessing…it’s too strong. One of the Archangels created it.”

“He said if – if I tried to remove the curse, I’d be incinerated. Never even checked for myself.” Stupid, stupid angel. “If it were true…I’d…I’d have felt it immediately, wouldn’t I? Like you did?”

“Yes, but – you’re not – you’re not experienced with these things. You didn’t know you were supposed to feel anything.”

“Gabriel called me an expert. Asked me for a favor. I was so proud. I want…wanted to prove myself…”

“I know. I know.”

Crowley held him, and Aziraphale cried, quietly, his heart breaking into pieces.

--

“So, what do we do?” Aziraphale and Crowley sat on the sofa, an hour later. Aziraphale tried very hard to watch Crowley’s eyes, but his own gaze kept drifting down, just a few inches.

It wasn’t that unusual. He often watched Crowley’s lips when he spoke; with his eyes usually hidden, the best way to catch what the demon was thinking was by those tiny quirks of the lip, the little smirks and frowns at the edges of his usual scowl.

And if Aziraphale wanted to press his lips to the corner of that mouth now…

“Well,” Crowley was saying, and Aziraphale pulled his gaze back up, trying to focus. “I can’t take the blessing off the book. Gabriel might have exaggerated, but it’s still more than either of us can handle.”

“What if we worked together? Combined our powers somehow?”

“Probably make it worse.” Crowley’s lips twitched just a bit, a hint of a smile. “These things are delicate, and combining angel and demon powers…”

“I suppose you’re right.” The tip of Crowley’s tongue appeared, just for a fraction of a second, wetting his lips, and Aziraphale’s own tongue moved in sympathy. Just a little quick kiss, right there at the side of the mouth, what would it hurt? He loved Crowley so much he was about to burst—

“Oh, come here,” Aziraphale snapped, pulling Crowley down to lay across his lap, gliding his fingers through that hair. It was even softer than he’d imagined, strands separating and flowing like water. “Sorry. I hope you don’t mind, but I can’t focus on anything right now, apart from making sure you know how very much I love you. And on how, ironically, that thought is going to get us both killed.”

“I don’t mind,” Crowley sighed, settling against his thighs. “Do your worst, that’s what it’s there for.”

Aziraphale sank both hands into those thick red tresses, running through them from root to tip. “Oh, God, I love you.” He closed his eyes, absorbed in the luxuriant feel. “So, if we can’t take the curse – blessing, I mean – off the book, can we take it off me?”

“That’s easier, generally,” Crowley agreed. “Not even that complicated, it’s like…untying a knot. But this one’s stronger than anything I’ve seen. It’d take years. Decades, maybe.”

“Well, we have six hours. Possibly a bit more, Gabriel always runs late when I’m expecting him.” He tilted his head back to look at the corner, where brilliant white wall met brilliant white ceiling, and ran his fingers through Crowley’s hair again. “Which I’m now realizing is probably not just an unfortunate coincidence, is it? It makes me feel like I’m some – some irritation, like I have to state my business as quickly as possible so he can go back to more important things, apologize for taking up his time, and of course that’s what he wants. Why did I never realize? Why am I so naïve?”

“You’re an angel. You trust the people you’re supposed to trust.” His fingers reached up to brush Aziraphale’s chin, and the angel immediately turned to kiss them, reveling in their slightly salty taste. “Sorry.” Crowley pulled away. “Any idea why he would do this now?”

“Well…I have been avoiding work rather thoroughly lately.” He smiled down at Crowley. “Ever since we reconnected, almost thirty years ago, I’ve been finding every excuse to spend time with you.”

“I thought as much.” Crowley’s fingers traced across his waistcoat, and even through all the layers, it made him shiver. “I mean oh, Crowley, I’m not going to be at the bookshop tonight, I have a reservation at my favorite sushi restaurant. So if you’re planning to bother me, don’t come here. Not exactly subtle.”

“It worked, though, and you showed up in that lovely dress, which I wasn’t expecting at all, black with the embroidered red flowers, your hair all up in a knot. You were beautiful, darling, don’t even try to deny it, I could hardly take my eyes off you all evening and…” Aziraphale bit off the rest of his words. “Yes, well. I have avoided at least…eight assignments that would have taken me outside of London for considerable lengths of time. I couldn’t bear to be apart from you. I suppose my excuses have been rather transparent of late – I told Gabriel I couldn’t go to America because the London sewers were…er…on fire.”

Crowley tipped his head back and laughed, sliding across Aziraphale’s thighs. “He might have started to catch on at that point. But it’s still just a few missed jobs.”

“It’s disobedience.” One finger scratched near Crowley’s ear, and the demon purred. “He doesn’t really need more than that, does he?”

“Nnnnh. Is there more?”

“Oh, Crowley.” Aziraphale’s fingers brushed through his hair again. “Centuries of it. Long before the Arrangement. I’ve had doubts. I’ve avoided assignments. I…never questioned, but I’ve come close, skirted the line, pushed the boundaries.” Anxious hands twitched. “Has it finally become too much? Has he been trying to catch me out for centuries, and I’ve just been too stupid to notice?”

“Stop saying that, Angel. We both know how clever you are. If he’s trying this on you now, it must mean that in six thousand years, he’s never had anything to go on. That’s good.”

“Whatever he’s looking for, Gabriel’s going to uncover a great deal more tonight than he ever expected.” The panic began climbing its way up his throat again. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m going to betray you, Crowley. I can feel it. I’m going to tell him everything.”

“Look, even if you can’t lie, you can twist it around. Make it sound like all those restaurants and bars and wine tastings and movies and walks in the park were just by yourself?” His thumb caught one of the buttons and rolled across it. “I don’t know how much trouble you’ll be in, but…if they don’t know about me, it won’t be as bad.”

“Impossible.” Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand and raised it to his lips again, kissing each knuckle. “Two days ago, I could resist, perhaps, but not anymore. And what if it keeps getting worse? Imagine what I’ll be like in a week…I’ll happily confess to everything.” He thought Crowley’s fingers were trembling, but no – it was his own hand, holding them. “Do you…do you think I’ll Fall? No, that would just send me to you, and I’m starting to believe Gabriel isn’t even that kind. He’ll…he’ll destroy me. No, he’ll destroy you, in front of me, so I can—”

“Angel, shhh, it’s not going to come to that.”

“I won’t let him, Crowley. I told you, I’ll never let them hurt you, I meant it.”

“Shhh.” Crowley tugged his hand, pulling Aziraphale’s towards him, pressing it open to lay kisses on his palm. “There is…one other option. But you’re going to hate it.”

A choked laugh. “Crowley, I’ve hated every one of your ideas for the past six thousand years, and yet I’ve always gone along with them.”

“Because I’m usually right?”

“No, because I’m in love with an idiot.” He bent over with a smile, kissing Crowley’s forehead, then kept going, a line of kisses – the brow, that perfect nose, and…

Crowley put a hand on Aziraphale’s chest, stopping him, holding him back as their breath caressed each other’s lips. “You said you shouldn’t,” Crowley reminded him.

“I know. I shouldn’t. But I want to, my darling, dearest Crowley. I want to kiss you right now, and kiss you until you can’t breathe, and – and – and – I haven’t actually considered what comes next, but we have six hours until we die, we can figure it out. Let’s go back to bed, stay there to the end. Let me groom your wings, let me touch you, I need to tell you, to show you—”

A thumb gently brushed across his lips, though Crowley’s face had gone quite red. Aziraphale was sure his own matched. “Angel,” and his voice sounded a little strained now. “We aren’t going to die.”

“No, you won’t. I’ll find a way to keep you safe. If you return to Hell, you should be…no, the rumors will reach them soon enough. You must leave. What’s that star system you always talk about? Alpha Centauri? Start there, and—”

“A-zir-a-phale,” Crowley drew the name out. “I’m not going anywhere. You said you’d let me be there for you.” The angel nodded weakly. “Neither of us is going to die, because I know how to stop this. I have a plan. But you’ll have to trust me. And stop squeezing me like that.”

Aziraphale realized his arms were clutching at Crowley protectively. He let go, and the demon sat up, resettling on the sofa next to him. Crowley picked up the angel’s hand, pressing it between both of his. “Alright. The blessing has infected your mind. I can’t untangle it fast enough. But I can isolate it, I can pull it out. You’ll go back to the way you’ve always been.”

“Just…like that? It seems too easy.”

“Well, there are a few problems. I’ll need to put it somewhere…so I’ll take it on myself.”

“What? No!” Aziraphale jerked back, but Crowley still held his hand. “That’s – that’s absurd, Crowley, it’s far too dangerous and furthermore, it won’t work at all, as you’d just – just go around babbling to everyone, and your superiors will find out anyway. No, I forbid it.”

Crowley shook his head. “This blessing was designed for you, fed by the time you spent bent over that book, handling it, breathing it in. I barely touched the thing, it’ll be weaker for me. I won’t be able to lie to you, but that should be the only effect.” He smiled. “Won’t even notice the difference. I’ve never lied to you.”

Aziraphale felt his smile return. “Not ever? Even when you said – no, no it’s not important. I’ll concede, it might work, but we obviously can’t stay that way.” He leaned forward eagerly, squeezing Crowley’s hand. “I’ll find a way to undo it. You said years, decades, but I have hundreds of reference tomes in the shop. Surely I can find a way to—”

Crowley lifted Aziraphale’s hand and kissed it. “It’s, um, more an art than a science. You leave that to me. Especially because…because when I take the curse, I’m going to remove all the memories connected to it.”

“No.” This time Aziraphale pulled away, sliding back across the sofa, trying to escape Crowley’s words. “Take my memories? All this last week?” What was his heart doing? His breath? Lord, he was dying right now, every muscle in his body tense and straining. “All those things you said – everything we – you told me you love me. I won’t…you can’t take this from me, Crowley. I won’t allow it.”

“It’s the only way.” Crowley inched towards him, and Aziraphale felt his panic rising. He shrank back, hiding behind his hands, pushing the truth away. “You said – Angel, you said you’d die to keep me safe. But this way no one has to die, or get hurt, or…”

“Dying would be easier! Crowley, I can’t go back to – to not knowing!”

“Look, I can – I can say it again, Angel. Tell you properly this time, take you out for dinner—”

“No, no, I won’t want to hear it, I’ll just – I’ll reject you,” he realized with horror. “Oh, Crowley, I’m sorry, I swear, I’ll think I’m doing it to protect you. You must understand that I – I won’t mean it, but I will...”

“So, I can…I can explain. Tell you about the book and Gabriel and—”

“And I won’t believe you. Oh, Lord, Crowley, I’m going to trust him again. After everything he did…” Aziraphale hunched over himself, arms pressed to his chest, heart palpitating. “I can’t…can’t go back to that…” He could picture himself, following Gabriel around like a puppy, not even aware of how many times he’d been kicked. Had the Archangel ever liked him?

“There’s got to be something we can do. Write yourself a letter, make a video, tell me something only you would know…”

“And then what? Once I’m convinced, I’ll – can you return the memories? That’s what I’ll ask.”

“Yes. I'm not - they won't be destroyed, I'll just be holding them for a while.” Aziraphale felt himself begin to relax. Put that way, it sounded...not good, but at least not terrifying. “But until I’ve removed the blessing you’ll just…wind up like this again. Back where we started.”

“And how long will that take? You said decades…”

“Twenty years,” Crowley shrugged. “Maybe thirty. As I said, untying a knot – if you rush it, it gets worse.”

“That isn’t…so bad,” Aziraphale admitted, rubbing a hand across his face. “But that means…oh, Lord, we’re going to do this, aren’t we?” He moved back across the sofa, set his head on Crowley’s shoulder. “It means you can’t tell me. Not until the memories are ready, because I’ll just insist you return them immediately. And round and round we’ll go. So, you can’t tell me about the curse, or about Gabriel, or…or even…”

“That I love you,” Crowley half-swallowed the word, as if it hurt. He slid his arm around Aziraphale’s waist and pressed his lips to the angel’s temple. “And I’ll have to stand by while you try to please that – that – that—”

“That arrogant sod? That self-righteous pus stain? That condescending, pusillanimous, egotistical, cold-hearted—”

“I was going to say ‘bastard.’ Or maybe ‘wank-wings.’ Where did you even learn that sort of language?”

“I read, darling.” Aziraphale sighed, leaning into his embrace. “We’ve waited six thousand years. What’s twenty more?” He picked up Crowley’s hand and studied it. “Can you restore them as soon as they’re ready?”

“Technically, yes. But even with the blessing removed, you’ll probably be unable to lie for a day or two. Residue. I’ll have to wait until we’re somewhere we won’t be disturbed. And you can be very stubborn about going off the grid.”

“Then try not make it sound like some – some illicit activity and maybe I’ll come along.” He kissed Crowley’s cheek. “And do be sure there’s at least a double bed. Oh, don’t blush so. I don’t plan to let go of you for two days, it’ll need to be big enough for me to hold you while you sleep.” He remembered the way Crowley had looked, in the dawn light, nestled in his arms, and he would happily have lived in that moment for eternity.

They sat together for a few minutes, not talking, just feeling the love flow between them. It was the most honest Aziraphale had ever been.

“So,” he finally broke the silence. “How long will this take?”

“Extracting the blessing and memories – maybe an hour? And you’ll need to rest at least an hour more while your mind recovers.”

“That leaves us…four hours.” He rested his hand on Crowley’s knee. “Closer to three and a half. And I think I’d rather make the most of that time.”

Crowley swallowed, fingers twitching nervously. “Anything you want, Angel.”

“Anything?” He tilted his head up to meet those golden eyes and grinned wickedly. “Anything at all?”

--

Eliza looked at the earrings in the glass counter of the pawn shop. “I mean, they look nice,” she grumbled, “but I still think mom would rather have a watch for her birthday.”

“Would she?” her sister smirked. “Or are you just saying that because the earrings cost more, and you want to go see that band? You know, with that cute drummer from your Uni? What’s their name…?”

“Not everything is about romance, Rebecca,” she said, blushing. “They’re just – it’s a good band, ok? And, yeah, tickets are fifty quid, and the bakery doesn’t pay that well, so—”

The door of the pawn shop flew open and two men walked in – the pale figure Eliza recognized from the bakery, and a tall, lanky bloke with red hair.

“Attention everyone!” The bookseller called cheerfully. “I am Aziraphale, owner and proprietor of A.Z. Fell’s in Soho, which is a perfectly wonderful pseudonym, despite all complaints I have received. This exquisite creature is Anthony J. Crowley, my best friend, the love of my life, and the most darling being in the entire world. We are here to celebrate a love that is entwined into the whole of human history, and anyone who wishes to join us is invited to meet at the duck pond in St James’s Park in half an hour. Anyone who does not approve is invited to go sit on an egg!” He beamed proudly at the man beside him, whose face was almost as red as his hair.

“Yeah, I still don’t think you have that last part right, Angel.”

“Nonsense, what could be more unpleasant than sitting on an egg? You, good sir!” He pointed to the owner of the shop. “We are here to look at jewelry!”

Eliza sighed and turned back to the argument with her sister, but froze at the familiar gleam in Rebecca’s eyes. “No. No we are not going to the park! There’s probably nothing going on! Yesterday that man told me he controls the weather!”

“But they’re in love!” Rebecca squealed. “And whatever’s going on it’ll probably be a riot.” She gasped, grabbing Eliza’s arm. “We should bring cake!”

“No, we’re not – you can’t use my bakery discount for…whatever this is!”

“Oi. Humans.” They looked up to see the man with the dark suit and red hair. His eyes were brilliant gold with slit pupils, like a cat, focused on the case behind them. “You’re standing in front of the rings.” His tone was harsh, but his face was still flushed pink.

“Congratulations,” Rebecca giggled, even as Eliza pushed her out of the way. “There’s a really nice gold one in the back!”

“That’s it,” Eliza groaned. “We can – just – buy mom that dress we saw. Let’s go.”

“Aw, you’re no fun. Look, I’ll pay for your half of the gift, and buy you those concert tickets. Please can we go?”

Eliza rubbed her eye. “What kind of cake?”

--

Half an hour later, Aziraphale stood beside the duck pond, hand tapping excitedly against the fence. The weather was perfect, almost a dozen people had gathered, and most importantly…Crowley was there, pinning a red rosebud to Aziraphale’s lapel.

“You have to stop looking at me like that,” Crowley complained. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Well, anything else would be a lie.” Aziraphale reached up and straightened the white daisy in Crowley’s buttonhole.

“Are you sure you want to do this here? Where we…had our fight?” His eyes tightened just at the mention of it.

“Where better? If we hadn’t fought, I wouldn’t have tried to stop that spy ring, and you wouldn’t have had to save me – and I wouldn’t have realized I love you more than all the wine in France.” He gazed out over the water, and noticed the black swan was there again. "Besides. It was always one of my favorite spots. And when we...weren't speaking...I would come here to remember you."

“Nnh.” Crowley leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together for just a second. “Fine. But…” he turned his head, stealing a glance toward the spectators. “I didn’t think so many would come.”

“You can put your glasses back on, you know. I only mind a little, but your comfort is far more important to me than having this moment be completed by the sight of your gorgeous eyes.”

“No.” He straightened up, and the smile that hovered at the corner of his lips was more brilliant than the light of Heaven. “I told you, while you don’t have your defenses, I don’t have mine.” His eyes darted to their audience again. “Just…why? I thought you didn’t want anyone to see you like this.”

“Because, my dearest love, if I’m not going to remember this moment, at least all of them will.”

“Ngk. If you want. Just.” Another anxious look. “Don’t make me talk to anyone.”

“Just me, I promise.”

Aziraphale pulled out a silver chain from his pocket, and draped it around Crowley’s neck. None of the rings had looked right but this…somehow…was perfect.

“Anthony J. Crowley,” he began, loud enough for his voice to carry. “My darling. My love. I trust you with everything that I am, as I always have, as I always will, forever and ever. You have cared for me, when no one else did, kept me close when I pushed you away, came to my aid when I thought all was lost, with never a moment’s hesitation. You are my best friend, have been for centuries, and I want nothing more than to be by your side for centuries to come. For eternity, if we can have it.” He smiled and ran his fingers across Crowley's new chain. Yes. Perfect.

Crowley glared at his feet, biting his lip. “For Satan’s sake, Angel…” his eyes drifted up, filled with tears. “How am I supposed to follow that?”

Aziraphale took his hand. “However you wish, my Crowley. My love for you isn’t going to change because of a few words.”

“I hope not.” With one last glare towards the crowd – which was perhaps meant to be intimidating, but utterly ruined by the way he blushed – Crowley leaned forward and whispered in Aziraphale’s ear.

“Yes, dear. That…that will do nicely.”

Aziraphale held out his hand and Crowley produced a golden signet ring. He slid it onto Aziraphale’s pinky, where no one would suspect it meant a thing, least of all Aziraphale and twined their fingers together. Both their hands trembled.

“Well,” Aziraphale said,  blinking his eyes clear. “I – thank you all for coming. I suppose that’s…”

“Kiss!” A young woman’s voice called from the crowd. “It’s not official until you kiss!”

“Rebecca, shut up,” another voice cut in.

Aziraphale took both of Crowley’s hands in his. “Well. You heard the excitable young lady.”

“I don’t think there’s anything official about any of this,” Crowley said dryly, but he leaned closer, hesitating. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m sure.”

The first brush of Crowley’s lips stole his breath away.

The second destroyed him, tore him apart, left him hollow and raw.

The third breathed new life, filled him with a love and hope beyond anything he’d ever experienced.

After that, his tongue brushed Crowley’s bottom lip, and he rather lost track of things.

--

“Wow,” Rebecca said, eyebrows vanishing into her hair. “I did not know old men kissed like that.”

“Why are you so weird?” Eliza sighed. “Are you happy now? We saw their…semi-wedding. Can we go?”

“Eliza, you can’t leave the wedding before the cake.” She held the box up. “Oi! Anyone want cake?”

--

Aziraphale broke off the kiss, turning so suddenly Crowley lost his balance and would have fallen in the pond had the fence not stopped him. The demon gasped for breath, trying to think through the brilliant, golden sparks that filled his mind, trying to feel anything beyond that wonderful, eternal glow of—

“Darling, did you hear that? Someone brought cake!”

--

They sat together, one last time, on the shop sofa, watching the seconds tick away.

“It’s…it’s only twenty years, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, head resting on his shoulder, twisting the new ring on his pinky. It had little wings. Utterly perfect. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

“Nh,” his husband grunted, running a thumb along the silver chain. “Long as something doesn’t go wrong.”

“What would go wrong? The blessing? You’re sure you can unravel it? It might be different from a curse—”

“No,” Crowley interrupted, resting a hand on Aziraphale’s temple. “I can see it clearly now. Twenty…maybe twenty-one years. But what if Gabriel tries something else? You won’t even know to look out for it.”

“Yes, I’m afraid I’ll have to trust you to keep an eye on…well, me.” He carefully unpinned the rosebud from his jacket, spinning it between his fingers. “Don’t let me take any foolish risks, either. I…I’m going to think protecting us both is my job. I’m used to taking care of these things. Be patient with me, and know that I love you.”

Crowley kissed the top of his head. “How will I know when you’re thinking about me?”

“Oh, my dear. I always am.” He sat up to meet those golden eyes. “If I’m talking, I’m trying not to say I love you. If I’m silent, I’m trying to hold it in. If I smile, I’m remembering how much I love you. If I get annoyed, it’s because I can’t believe I love such an idiot. There is no moment that my heart isn’t full of you.” He looked at the clock. Two minutes to go.

Crowley’s fingers landed on his chin, turning him back.

“I – I – I suppose I’ll see you in twenty years?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Crowley smiled. “Movie night.”

“Oh, yes. Something with a wedding at the end, I think, regardless of what I say.” His eyes darted to the clock. “Crowley. Kiss me again.”

It was just as soft – as tender – as passionate – as glorious as the first.

Crowley’s fingers pressed to his temples.

“I love you,” Aziraphale whispered, one last time.

--

An hour later, Crowley stood up, arranging his husband – his best friend – his angel on the sofa.

One last kiss on the forehead. It would have to hold him over for a few decades, and he had a feeling the 2000s were going to be rough.

“Goodnight, Angel,” he said, softly, pulling his glasses out of his pocket, sliding them on his nose. His defense against the world back in place.

Crowley walked out of the bookshop, and began to pick at the edges of the blessing in his mind.

--

The Archangel Gabriel appeared in the dusty collection of records Aziraphale was so fond of. He arrived two hours later than scheduled, knowing it would make the Principality anxious and eager to please.

He had waited thousands of years for this moment.

Ever since Eden, really – since the Guardian of the Eastern Gate had questioned the decision to throw the humans out. It had been a small question – are you sure? – but these things always started small.

He’d been watching for signs of rebellion, signs of doubt. He had his suspicions. Some angels flaunted their disobedience, others carefully hid it, walking the line, pretending to believe while harboring wicked, deceitful thoughts. Well. They all slipped up eventually.

All except Aziraphale.

There he was now, wandering out from a dark corner, eyes stuck on another of those – those books. He glanced up, then jumped, startled. “Oh! Oh, Gabriel. Oh, my. What brings you here?”

“I’ve come for your update.” He folded his hands and waited.

It was the perfect trap. Aziraphale would have spent the last five days touching the blessing, breathing it in, rolling it through his mind and weaving it in his thoughts as he tried to decipher the infinitely-changing text. It should have a complete hold on him now, compelling him to express his deepest secrets. Finally, finally, Gabriel would have the confession he needed to prove Aziraphale was a corrupt, worthless angel.

The Principality blinked his over-bright, nervous eyes.

“Update? On…? I’m sorry, I’ve been terribly busy this week.”

“The book,” Gabriel prompted. Aziraphale shook his head. “The cursed book?”

“Oh, the book! Oh, oh, no, I forgot entirely!” Aziraphale spun, searching the room, hesitating for just a second on a vase full of flowers. “I’m sure I have it around here somewhere. I put it on my desk, thinking this should be quite interesting. Yes! There.” He crossed the floor and picked it up, holding it out to Gabriel with a bland, sheepish grin.

Gabriel waited again, but still no compulsion seemed to loosen Aziraphale’s tongue. “Well? What did you find out?”

“Nothing. I’m sorry, as I said, I’ve been quite busy. Only had a chance to glance at it two, maybe three times.” He tipped up the book to look sadly at the cover. “Fascinating stuff. Pity it has to be destroyed.”

“Yes,” Gabriel said, jaw tight, pulling the tome from his hands. “Pity.” It had taken seven years to create that book, and another three to perfect the blessing. How, how could it have failed? “What have you been up to this week?”

“Oh, this and that. Various concerns of London. Minor healing here, bit of good luck there. Nothing to concern you with, but sadly it kept me out of my shop for days on end.”

That was all. The same blathering, unconfirmable nothing as ever, hidden behind that simpering, smirking face. The lying, treacherous bastard was about to get away with it again. Whatever it was. Gabriel had to fight not to lose his temper, throw the book, smite the disrespectful Principality where he stood.

“Well.” He dropped the book onto a chair. “Sorry to hear that. Perhaps we can get an extension—”

“Oh, no,” Aziraphale frowned. “No, this all sounds quite dangerous. I’m afraid the best thing is to get rid of it as soon as possible. I’ve had a bit of time to think, and mystery aside, there’s not likely anything to be learned from it. After all, the demons associated with it were all killed, correct?”

“Yes,” Gabriel grunted. “I did – I told you I was counting on you for this, didn’t I?”

Aziraphale’s face crumpled into guilt. At least that still worked. “Yes…you did say something to that effect. I’m – I am sorry to disappoint, but—”

“Disappoint? I ordered you to get answers. You know what this means?”

“I – I – I—”

It was almost enough to make Gabriel smile. But that panic wouldn’t do him much good – this job hadn’t been sanctioned by anyone in Heaven, so the worst Gabriel could do was berate the Principality in private, and make a show of forgiving him. That might buy a few years of quiet obedience, but it didn’t solve the core problem, that defective knot that he knew lived in Aziraphale’s soul.

“I – I don’t believe you did.”

“Excuse me?”

“No, I’m sorry, Gabriel, but when you came here on Monday, you said you wanted to consult with me on a cursed book. I…that is, you said this was a favor, not an – an actual order as such. So, while I am sorry to disappoint you, truly I am…”

The Archangel clapped his hands, squeezing them, imagining the core of Aziraphale’s true form was being crushed between them. “No! You’re right. This – this was a favor and…well…” He floundered.

And that absolute bastard smiled at him. “Jolly good. Glad that’s sorted. But, please, Gabriel. Anything you need in future. I would very much like another chance to assist you.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll find something.” He picked up the book and prepared to depart, then hesitated. There was a suspicion that had lurked in his mind for nearly a thousand years. “By the way, was that demon…what’s his name…Crowley? Was he involved in any of this…this business of yours?”

That stupid, nervous smile flashed across Aziraphale’s face, but he was almost entirely calm when he replied: “No, I haven’t seen Crowley all week.”

“Well. See you soon.”

The next instant, Gabriel was back in Heaven, in his private office. He tossed the book aside. So much wasted effort.

Still. There was one big project on the horizon. Something Aziraphale couldn’t help but fail at.

He pressed a button on his desk phone. “Get me an update on the Armageddon plans.”

--

Gabriel left, and Aziraphale felt the knot of worry untie in his stomach. The whole situation with that cursed book had entirely slipped his mind while he…

While he…

What had he been up to this week?

He remembered bits and pieces. Wandering the streets, talking to people, the usual. He’d picked up this lovely golden ring somewhere, and had already grown quite fond of it. But the week had flown by in a rather extraordinary way, and he couldn’t quite account for it.

Well, be that as it may. He was quite glad to spend the rest of the evening in his favorite chair, perhaps reread Hamlet or one of Georgette Heyer’s novels. Yes, he was very much in the mood for a happy ending tonight, though he wasn’t sure why.

On his way to the shelves, he noticed the vase full of daisies again. He couldn’t recall where they came from, but they did brighten up the room wonderfully.

--

(Thank you! Notes for this chapter can be found on AO3, but especial thanks to @under-a-linden-tree for help writing Aziraphale’s wedding vows, because it was just a bit sappier than I usually go! The final two chapters are quick epilogues, which I will have up as soon as possible.)

@black-velvet-roses-tea @witchingwhovian