#last one is just funny muscle study i rarely draw muscles

[arkiwii]

hbgbbgghdggrgr sarira

[bunny-xoxo]

HQ boys with a sick s/o HC

warning(s): none :)

a/n: my poor ❣️ anon is sick and these were inspired by our last convo, I hope you’re feeling better Angel 😭 please enjoy some hq dummies and how theyd treat a sick s/o :) <3

characters: Tsukishima, Hinata, Sugawara, Daichi, Noya, Aran, Kita, Bokuto, Kenma, Ushijima, & Aone

Tsukishima

He would act bothered at the fact you’re sick, cause of course you’re gonna ask your boyfriend for things - like any notes you might’ve missed that day. But judging how he just does your homework for you you’re pretty sure he’s not actually mad.

He’d also be bugging you about taking your medicine cause he needs you to get better fast so he isn’t “stuck bullying only Hinata”, he misses picking on you too and he says it’s funner in person

He’s kind of worried about getting sick himself so he wouldn’t see you in person much but you definitely notice how frequent he’s starting to call you, he even FaceTimed you while he was at the grocery store cause you weren’t there with him to pick out your snacks. (He knows your favs at this point, he just missed your company)

The moment you’re better and he has a chance to see you he’s a bit more physically affectionate than normal - not that either of you are complaining - he missed you very much :(

Daichi

His hearts in the right place - like he’s brought some cough drops and water and such and has this whole plan for you to get better but the moment you sneeze a little too hard he’s so :((((( and just wants to hold you and coddle you.

So he does exactly that.

It can be a bit overbearing at first cause he’s VERY adamant on you not doing thing, like he’s debating on whether or not you should even be allowed to walk to the bathroom and if he should be carrying you there instead.

Rather than catch you up on anything you missed (he’ll bother suga about it later) he’d prefers snuggling in and napping the day away with you and just hopes you’ll magically get better.

Hinata

The overly worried type who’s also somehow simultaneously oblivious.

He’s CONSTANTLY checking in like are you better yet? Can you stand? Have you been throwing up all day? Is your temp still too high?? Please call me if you need anything :((((

But then he comes over with his volleyball and is all raring to go on some walk with you cause he found this awesome little trail that has some cute clearing he thinks you’d love but he seems to have forgotten you’re kind of currently bedridden.

You tell him and almost feel bad cause you can see the disappointment on his face and the way his body kind of deflates, but then all of a sudden he’s cheering back up cause he realizes that means he gets to lay with you basically all day and love up on you (regardless of your protests telling him he’d get sick too - which he definitely does)

Sugawara

I hope you wanted some tough love :(

Don’t get me wrong, he’s all about taking care of his baby but don’t think you’re gonna be milking any extra pity out of him 😭

He’s bringing you all the right medicine and extra love and any snacks you need, but he’s also bringing any schoolwork you might be missing and he’s reminding you of those deadlines.

He makes up for it with the extra study guides he made you so you can understand the material easier, and the cute little drawings he puts in the margins to better explain the material

He feels awful for his sick baby but isn’t gonna let you fall behind <3

Noya

Really believes in the whole laughter is the best medicine type shit. He’d also be looking up all different kinds of ways to make you better if he felt like you weren’t having a speedy recovery AHSJSJAJS

“I don’t know babe I’m jus sayin, this here says that if you drink raw egg whites and vinegar it’s a good immune system boost and will cure your flu in, like, 15 minutes. It might be worth a shot!”

Baby boy just misses going on dates with you 😭

Also tends to go overboard sometimes with the movies - last time you were sick he brought a whole cardboard box full of random dvds he had lying around as well as a couple of home videos of him as a child ‘cause:

“I’m hilarious babe look at these!”

Aran

Literally one of the best boyfriends you could ask for in this situation are you joking? He never hovers too much but is always just a phone call away if you need some help or are just feeling too lonely :( KING of making soups are you joking (firm believer that warm foods are the best thing when you’re ill) he definitely texts you random things throughout the day like

“how’s my baby doing?”

Or

“u feeling ok enough for me to stop by later ?❤️”

Expect LOTS of forehead kisses too

Also tends to hold the back of his hands to your face a lot so he can check your temp throughout the day, a true caregiver :,(

Kita

Ok him and Aran are tied cause this man 😪

The moment he finds out you’re sick he’s gotta know what kind of bug you caught cause he will be bringing you medicine the moment he can and he needs to be sure he’s getting the right kind. Also the type to buy you some silly little card that his grandmother INSISTED on signing (she’s very worried about you) and who is he to say no to that.

He also would hate to admit this to you but he thinks you’re so cute when you’re sick 😭 it doesn’t matter if you’re hacking up yesterday’s lunch he’s like 🥺🤲🏼 my poor little baby

He also just really likes taking care of you, definitely fits into his love language and it just feels very domestic for him to be by your side and aiding you in any way you can, and this mf is the biggest fan of the domestic things in your relationship <3

Bokuto

Honestly a little excited cause he gets to spend some uninterrupted alone time with you

Like don’t get me wrong he’s sad your sick but he can’t help but think to himself omg I get to spend the whole day with my baby! Just me and them!

Really helpful though, like you almost forget you’re sick. He’s making you food if you can’t do it yourself and he’s making sure you’re taking your medicine at the right times all while just chilling and talking with you in between! You guys watch some awful movies and laugh at them and it almost feels like a good ol date night in with your boyfriend if your body wasn’t so fatigued and sore from being sick. But don’t worry, cause Bokuto is there and ready to rub those sore muscles at any given moment.

Kenma

He just kind of shows up? Unannounced?

He has a weeks worth of stuff packed as well as a game console and a sack full of games LMAO and he just sets them down and gives you a kiss on the forehead and just ,, starts,, unpacking. You have to ask him what he’s doing cause he’s just not saying anything.

“You’re sick, so I’m staying over to take care of you until you feel better, duh. Now which side of the bed do you prefer?”

This man is casually waiting on your every need like your thirsty? Lay tf down he’s getting it for you. Hungry? Funny, he already ordered in. You’re his mf princess and you’re sick so you will not be moving a muscle.

Ushijima

MASSAGES. Massages. And cuddles :(((

Big man Ushi comes over when he has the chance with some painkillers and his big warm arms. Most of the time he’s over you guys are just napping cause he wants to hold you! Cause you look so helpless and sick and of course you guys are laying down so you guys just kind of pass out.

Also a big check in texter to see if you’re feeling up for him to be over later that day.

If you are too worried about getting him sick he’ll stay home but he’ll be kind of grumpy about it. You’d get a random FaceTime from him just for him to move his phone away from his body enough to emphasize how empty his bed is 🙄

You cave and let him come over, and when he does he just huffs and crawls into bed with you like ☹️ c’mere

Aone

Omg the biggest worrier of all of them :((((

The one most likely to say he’s sick too so he can free any responsibilities of the day just so he can come take care of you in person. Something about the idea of you being home alone and sick with no one there to make sure you’re ok hurts his heart so bad.

He also would forget to let you know he’s coming over though, so when he comes into your apartment with his copy of the key and finds you under a heap of covers with a tissue box on your nightstand he’s quickly getting under the covers with you and pulling you into his chest.

You wake up an hour or two later to feel big warm arms embracing you and you know your sweet boyfriend came over just to check on you. And judging by his heavy breaths signaling he was asleep you knew he had to have been here for a while <3

———————

ugh it’s been too long since I’ve written for hq! I hope you guys enjoyed and I always love to hear your thoughts :) <3

requests are open

-🐇out

taglist: @plutowrites @sweet-darling91 (if you’d like to be added to hq, aot, mha, or a combination of those lemme know!)

[tessiete]

For the Spotify fanfic ficlet: 12 for the Kenobi-Kryze fam? 🥺

@lightasthesun so here’s the deal. I STRUGGLED with this. Because I wanted to give you happy, fun, fluffy times, and there are some real bangers on my Wrapped. I mean, relative bangers.

But you picked probably the most Obitine-angst appropriate song ever, and I was like......oh, no. I can’t - I can’t do that to them.

So, after several days of thinking about it, we came up with this. It’s...I refuse to call it angst, bc everyone is alive, and well. It’s just like, some family fun times. Thanks, especially to the Obitine discord, and @duchess-of-mandalore @mg024 and Finn!

And anyway, I hope you love it! Thank you so much for the challenge! <3

Prompt: The Chain (Ingrid Michaelson)

THE CHAIN

The sky over Capital City is grey, and tremulous when they arrive on Coruscant. A natural storm had surged over the breakers of the planet’s ancient atmo regulators to sound its rage and fury out above the city. It’s rare, but not unheard of, and though some might take it as an ill omen, Satine thinks it a fair reflection of the twisting winds within her breast. Rain falls in great, heavy drops, lashing its grief across the transparisteel viewports as they break through the clouds. Thunder cracks, righteous and defiant. Lightning fractures the plate of the sky, reaching out with jealous fingers to touch the earth. Korkie has slept through it all, but Satine doesn’t want to miss any moment more than she must.

They hit the pad with the sudden jolt of gravity reasserting itself, the locking clamps securing them in place. She feels each shudder of the ship echoing in her bones, the soft satyn of her simple travelling gown like water over her skin. Every contrast feels sharp, and malicious. She takes Korkie’s small hand in her larger one, and together they wait for the ramp to lower, releasing them into the wilds outside.

And they are met.

Across the platform, standing silent in the downpour, is Obi-Wan Kenobi. 

Though her vision blurs, and renders his face unreadable, she can see the straight line of his shoulders, the proud tilt of his chin, and the defiant stance of his feet spread wide. His hands are hidden in the fold of his cloak, and at his back are Masters Windu and Jinn.

At Satine’s back is the black maw of the ship, and the wind whistling through it. Korkie laughs, and she looks away from the Jedi to see her son, hands out, catching rain. 

“It’s wet! Belli, look!” he says, showing her his hand, shining in the grey light. “The sky is crying!”

Satine feels the rain coursing over her own face, and smiles in recognition of his delight.

“It is,” she says. “Happy tears, of course. Coruscant is glad to meet you, kih'kairkiyc.”

He grins at her, and she squeezes his hand, and together they cross the narrow bridge from the ship’s dock to the reception platform where they are met by Obi-Wan. He steps forward, and bows, deep, and formal.

“Duchess,” he says. His voice does not waver, but lies flat, and orderly in the space between them. 

He is much the same as she remembers, though his hair is longer, and his braid is cut. A beard has grown in, at long last, though she does not like how it covers his mouth, and hides half his face, and she longs to reach out and wipe it away so she might be able to read him again, like she used to. But there is more than an arm’s length between them, so instead, she nods her head in acknowledgement.

“Knight Kenobi,” she says, like glass, clean and showing nothing of itself.

Korkie tugs at her hand, and she pulls him forward to introduce him next. His fingers linger at the tips of hers as she lets him go. He takes a step. He takes a breath, and just as they’d practiced, he bows with his hands clasped before him, until his back is level with the floor.

“How do you do, Knight Kenobi?” Then, in succession, “Master Windu. Master Jinn.”

The three Jedi return the gesture. Master Windu is tense, and wary of her, she can tell, still unconvinced of the wisdom in this. Obi-Wan’s eyes are fixed on her, but Qui-Gon Jinn smiles at the boy, and Korkie stumbles back until he falls against his mother’s stomach, his hand reaching out to fist in the fabric of her gown to steady himself.

“Hello Korkie,” the old Jedi greets. His voice is soft, like birdwatchers in Keldabe before. “It’s good to finally meet you.”

Obi-Wan is pulled from his study of the past by this reminder of their present company. His hands drop, and he shifts, leaning towards her, his head ducked and uncertain.

“I apologise for the weather,” he says. “I would have - if there had been any indication of inclemence such as this, I would have suggested somewhere with a roof.”

“Of course,” Satine says, too quickly. Then, bridling herself, she continues. “Coruscant is usually such a civilised, and well-behaved planet, it could not have been foreseen.”

There is the promise of forgiveness at the end of her declaration, which Obi-Wan accepts with relief, and they smile at each other. It is brief, and carried more in their eyes, than in their mouths or hands, but it is there nonetheless.

“And you, Master Korkie,” says Qui-Gon, with a smirk of his own. “Are you more civilised, and well-behaved than you appear at first glance?”

He gestures to Korkies rumpled tunic, and mussed hair which sticks up in wild tussocks like knots of grass.

“Someone was rather exhausted by our journey,” says Satine, fondly. “He fell asleep just past Corsin.”

“It was rather a long flight,” says Korkie, in his own defence. “And I don’t much like flying. Lightspeed always feels funny.”

At this, Qui-Gon kneels to meet Korkie on his level, and speaks as if he is confessing some great secret.

“Do you know,” he says, “That Knight Kenobi also dislikes flying.”

Korkie throws a wondering glance at Obi-Wan, who shifts beneath the scrutiny.

“Truly?” he asks Qui-Gon.

The Jedi nods. “Yes, truly. Only he stays awake the whole time.”

“Why?”

“I think in order to complain,” says Qui-Gon. “He needs to be sure that I am equally as miserable as he is, otherwise he feels lonely for company. But it does make for a very long trip, from my point of view.”

“That’s silly, Knight Kenobi,” declares Korkie. He turns to address Obi-Wan directly, and though he speaks critically, his brow is lifted, and his eyes wide in an earnest desire to ease the knight’s discomfort. “It’s much better if you sleep,” he says, with all the wisdom of a moment. “The time goes by much faster.”

Obi-Wan is forced to accept his master’s censure with grace as to spare the gentle feelings of an innocent child, so he smiles, and bows to acknowledge the boy.

“As you say, Master Kryze. You are probably right.”

“I know I am,” Korkie says. “Even though I do look a little wild in the end. But I feel tidy. So I suppose it’s just a matter of which part of me you look at.”

With a rumble that starts deep in his belly, then tumbles out like thunder, Qui-Gon Jinn laughs.

“A man after my own heart,” he says, giving Korkie a little clap on the shoulder. “I foresee you will become a great Jedi, Kiorkicek Kryze.”

“Sorry to interrupt, Duchess, Obi-Wan,” says Master Windu, stepping between the parties, “But as this rain doesn’t look to be letting up any time soon, may I suggest we complete the investiture ceremony somewhere a little drier?”

He levels Obi-Wan with a challenging glance, but its severity is diminished somewhat by his own bedraggled state. Despite their equal exposure, the rain has somehow managed to do more damage to Mace Windu’s composure than any of the others. Perhaps because he is more conscious of his position, and his dignity than the other two, Qui-Gon being rather untroubled by such pretensions, and Obi-Wan still humbled and distracted by the circumstances in which he’s come face to face with the unquiet ghosts of his past. Both of them wear the rain with ease, but Mace has struggled, unable to convince himself of the need to shield himself, but conscious of the desire. His cloak is patchy with damp, and the top of his head reflects the sky, the water washing his face, and dripping from his lips and chin. It is clear that Obi-Wan feels this indignity on his superior’s behalf, but Satine fights laughter at the spectacle.

“I think that would be wise, Master Windu,” she says, her voice tripping and sparking with barely repressed delight.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he says, with a shallow bow. And then he says, “There is an air car waiting.”

And Satine feels her stomach drop.

She meets Obi-Wan’s eye over Mace’s shoulder. His gaze is steady, and somber and as he makes his answer to the master’s request, and she can hear farewell in the heaviness of his voice.

“Yes, Master Windu,” he says. “Satine, I’m sorry we must be so brief, but I -” and he stands gaping, and voiceless for a moment.

The tight knuckle of sickness twists in her gut, scraping across the raw nerves of the underside of her skin, buckling muscles, and shifting against her bones, but she swallows the nausea back, and saves Obi-Wan from the inexorable void of silence.

“Do not apologise, Obi-Wan,” she says. “These things cannot be helped. Perhaps it is better this way. Perhaps the sting will be less.”

“Like a plaster,” he says, numbly.

And she agrees. “Just like.”

Master Jinn’s rises from his crouch, leaving his hands to ghost over Korkie’s shoulders, his hand still wrapped in her own, and Obi-Wan still staring at her, still drowning in the rain. Master Windu is merciful then, and bows out his leave taking.

“I’ll prepare the car,” he says.

“Thank you, Mace,” says Qui-Gon, when no one says anything else, and Master Windu leaves them to say goodbye. 

But still, no one moves. Silence falls, a fragile, lacework thing, too delicate to touch with the clumsy fingers of speech. They remain suspended in its web for an age, until Qui-Gon braves what the others cannot fathom, and speaks again.

“Obi-Wan,” he says, stepping away from Korkie to reach for his own grown padawan. “A word.”

He draws him aside, turning away, turning their backs to Satine and Korkie, and speaking quietly in Obi-Wan’s ear, an arm about his shoulders, and drawing him close in private assignation. At another time, she might feel ostracised and othered by this, but now, she is grateful. It is she who is with Korkie, and the Jedi who must stand apart.

She kneels to face her son, heedless of her skirt, of the thin satyn and how it catches at the rough duracrete, pulling taut, maybe tearing beneath the pressure of her knees. She doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter. What matters is this: herself, and her son, and the rain washing away the things between them.

“I don’t want to go,” says Korkie, and she grips his hands tighter than before.

“You must,” she says. “You must. You are going to be a wonderful Jedi Knight. Just think of that.”

“I don’t care,” he says. “I know I said before, but I changed my mind. I want to go home.”

“You can’t go home, kih'kairkiyc,” she replies, her tongue growing thick with a truth she hates to speak. “Remember? We talked about this. It’s dangerous. But you will be safe here. Knight Kenobi will protect you.”

“But who will protect you if I’m not there?”

“Oh, many people, Kiorkicek,” she says. “A whole court of people. All the people. The people of Mandalore will be my strength, and they will take very good care of me while you’re away, and one day, when you come home, they will be glad to meet you again, and so will I.”

“Do you promise?” he asks. “You won’t forget me? Even if I’m gone for a very long time?”

“Even if you were gone for almost as long as forever, I would never forget you, Kiorkicek Kryze. Ni kar'tayl gai sa'ad. Ratiin.”

“Ratiin,” he repeats. “Always, and always.”

“Yes,” she avows. “Now, do you remember what I told you?”

“To wash my face, and brush my teeth every day, even if I’m very sleepy.”

And she laughs, pulling him close to her breast, and tucking his head beneath her chin.

“Yes,” she says. “That is very important, but what else?”

“To listen to the masters, and study hard, and show respect, and try my best, and to always, always be very kind to Knight Kenobi, because he isn’t always very kind to himself.”

“Yes,” she whispers. She presses a kiss to his hair, and combs it as flat as she can. “That last part, most especially, kih'kairkiyc. Look after each other. For me.”

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, Belli.”

“Bal Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, balyc.”

“Satine?” The call is Obi-Wan’s and she looks up from the cradle of her embrace, and her son within it to see him standing cautious, and concerned a few paces away. “It’s time to go.” 

“Of course,” she says. She stands. She takes Korkie’s hand, nestled in her own, and places it in Obi-Wan’s. For a moment, the three of them are one, together, and then…

She lets go.

“Goodbye, my Kiorkicek,” she says. “Remember what I told you. Kote, ijaa, aliit. Ratiin.”

He nods, and she can see his grip tighten on Obi-Wan’s hand, fierce determination rising in the face of her expectations. It is Obi-Wan who falters.

“Satine, I -” he shakes his head. His eyes match the storm. “I will do my best by him, I swear. I will not fail you. I will not.”

“I know,” she says, steady where he is not. “I would not give him up to another. None but you, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Gar ratiin ru’kar'taylir. Be gentle with it.”

He nods. There is nothing else to say, and they’ve always been terrible at goodbye. She smiles at Korkie one last time, and he points at the sky.

“Happy tears,” he says, and grins, wiping the salty streaks from his own face.

And with that, he tugs on Obi-Wan’s hand, and leads him off towards the distant figure of Mace Windu, and the air car waiting patiently to take them home.

But Satine is not alone.

Qui-Gon Jinn steps close, until she can feel his shoulder jut up against her own, the warmth of his body breaching the barricade of wet clothes, to soothe her own chapped skin, and she shivers against him.

For a moment, they say nothing, just watching as Obi-Wan turns to Korkie, and Korkie to Obi-Wan, chatting animatedly, his free hand swooping through the air. She imagines he must be telling him of their departure from Mandalore, and the world he left behind, and she hopes that selfishly, she might be included in as many of these stories as he thinks to tell, because he is in all of hers. Qui-Gon chuckles beside her.

“Fast friends, already,” he says.

“Forgotten just as fast,” she whispers, nearly losing the words to the storm. But Qui-Gon is listening closely.

“Never that,” he says. He wraps an arm around her shoulders, and she yields like water, dropping her head to his shoulder, and weeping into the crook of his neck.

“I thought I was ready,” she says, hitching breaths to match the shifting winds. “But it has come too soon.”

She feels his chin press against her skull, and though it isn’t exactly comfortable, there is comfort in the angles of his affection, and she leans closer to him, until her arms sneak beneath the wet folds of his outer robe, and wrap around his waist. She clings there, as though she might blow away. This is familiar, though it is an old, old memory, now. She was once a girl, before she was a Duchess, and Qui-Gon Jinn was once to her the very thing her father could not be. She was bereaved, but never lost, and there were many nights that Qui-Gon held her while she wept just like this. It is easy to reach for him, now. It is easy to look back.

“You are never ready,” he says, his voice vibrating so near to her ear it is as though he speaks to her from within her own mind. “But he is not going very far. He is with his family. He is with his father. You are not losing him to the wilderness.”

“No,” she says. “Only to the Force.”

He does not chide her for the bitterness upon her tongue.

His own words remain gentle, and soothing, and he rocks her in his arms, as they watch the matched set of their hearts walk away.

“Then I have lost my own heart twice,” he says. “First to the Force, and then to you. But people always come back, in one way or another. No one is gone forever.”

And as they reach the car, as though he hears their call from across a vast, unending night, and over the wind and roar of the storm, Obi-Wan looks back, and Qui-Gon smiles.

“Oh, look,” he says, as the knight turns once more to his son. “There he goes again.”

Satine buries her face in Qui-Gon’s arms, and though she doesn’t feel at peace, for a moment, she feels like she has come home.

[delvalentine]

Hello! Can I have a romantic matchup for tears of themis please?

Appearance : 5'4 ace/heteromantic girl ambivert.Dark brown hair/eyes (I wear glasses but they are also sun glasses because bright lights give me a headache) a little chubby/muscled and pale skin+permanent smirk/smile/ neutral face. Plump lips. My style varies a lot (always comfy) but I never wear dresses heels/makeup. I love to imagine outfits with symbols from fandoms or my own drawings so I have a rather unique style (most of the time I wear a NASA jacket and leather boots/sneakers, I also love sleeveless turtleneck) who changes a lot. I have malleable cheeks and tiny hands/fingers/wrist.

MBTI: INTP-T and chaotic neutral/good

Zodiac: Gemini

Personality : .Sarcastic,a little naive but I have a backbone (don't bother flirting with me and if you feel that I am flirting with you which happens a lot then it's just my personality and on the rare occasion I notice they have to confess or I won't believe it) ,calculative,protective,creative,expressive,manipulative,a devil's advocate,prideful,charismatic, smartass, bookworm, daydreamer, a little insensitive/blunt because I'm more on the logical side ,vengeful, mischievous, a huge tease, open minded, very curious, gets annoyed easily, impatient (unless it's in drawing because I am a perfectionist there) so kind of a bad temper, observant but not romantically,sadistic to a point but my conscience prevents me from doing these acts. Indifferent to many things, morally ambiguous as my moral compass is on the neutral side I don't believe in absolute evil/good, y'all better thank my conscience they work too well I never have fun.

With my friends I am either laughing, goofing around or annoyed. I love to give bad puns or cursed ideas who are gore/weird and saying I know y all love me. Those who don't talk to me see me as a nerd aggressive smart and blunt person ( even prideful) and strangers as polite and kind. I notice a lot of details because I don't let my guard down even if I daydream plus I have a photographic + sound memory and they work very well in all situations which can be a bother when I try to concentrate which is difficult for me because I get distracted easily. Also I have very weird reflexes so...anyone who approaches me by surprise gets hit, any sudden movement and I already have my leg/arm going their way which got me into a lot of trouble.

Dislikes: I fight for my beliefs. I have trust issues so I never talk about my problems and will use humor when confronted. Bright lights. Cooking. Slow things or people. When I get teased in a mean way (otherwise I actually like being teased it's a fun fight after). People who change side easily and hypocrites. Overly serious people. I tend to be aggressive and expose an annoyed face easily (I am moody), plus I hate orders and love pressing buttons it's funny(in a fun way rarely in a mean one) unless it's a sensitive subject. When I feel that I am unwanted or someone insults me or take me for granted I become very cold and distance myself and the relationship becomes strained the more they take time to ask for forgiveness, something I might give but will never forget.

Likes: I love cats/laughter/sweets/pranks/dark humour/ a true crime and Supernatural enthusiast and I love science especially concerning space, chemistry, robotic and psychology. Books, sleep, drawing and video games too. Cherries. Sushi.Oh and debates I love them. Surprises too I hate routine and runs away from it. I like making character analysis which I often get right but never show to the people around me because I know they will trust me less.

Hobbits : Reading, getting lost in a book, drawing, learning, debating, daydreaming, sports (I practice karate and shooting), art (piano/drawing/writing especially poetry) and video games

I have some bad habits like biting my nails (I just got rid of it by painting them black)/lips and moving my leg up and down because I am always nervous, disorganized room/sleep and eating schedule plus I am lazy. Also I might try to hide it but I am very competitive and a sore loser

Fun fact : I dream a lot and write my dreams. I don't mind nightmares on the contrary I welcome them because I find them to be a nice experience and they give me ideas plus the amount of emotions you can feel is amazing. I also tend to curse while talking.

When I get hurt, none takes me seriously because I start laughing uncontrollably even if it hurts a lot. Which means if I get stabbed, I am not dying of blood lost, nooo I am dying of laughter.

I rarely get motivated but when I do I give a very good work and put my soul in it, if I don't reach my goal I feel down for a while and become very snappy.

I am a lazy student (hell if I don't feel like writting I don't especially exercises that I understood) but also at top of my class so none says anything (i can befriend people easily if I want to, teachers included). My projects are often done last minute or just improvisation but I get a good mark at them which means that yes sometimes I can become arrogant and I don't really know what it feels like to study really hard and fail sorry. But I know it will bite me later. I often argue my way out of a situation with anyone : I know the exercise why should I write it? If I told you the answer then I know how I got it and you know it too no need for me to write the correction. Mum the brain is a muscle too so I am in fact exercising.

When dealing with an emotional person I don't know what to do I will try to give them words to keep going, it succeed but I am rather harsh plus I try to make jokes to cheer them up.But if a friend breaks down before me I will do my best to cheer them up (ahem jokes and reminding them of all the success they achieved) and if I am comfortable and they want a hug I will give it. I hate people who denies that others helped them.

My love language is gifts, quality time, a little act of service and affection in private if comfortable. I also love to send memes saying it reminds me of us/you and holding pinkies.

I am stubborn, moody (one day I can be really cold/snappy to the person because I am in a bad mood but I apologize after). I speak Arabic, french and English (in that order) and trying to learn italian. I am also an only child.

Thank you!

vyn richter

vyn has an ambiguous moral compass that would allow the two of you to be more compatible than with the others who are more goody two-shoes type. he has an extensive understanding of the human psyche and doesn't need you to explain yourself; he just gets you.

he finds your dream log fascinating, and also respects that you don't fear nightmares. often times the two of you might get together for tea and discuss the meanings, having actual conversations instead of just "how are you" "good" and letting it die there.

vyn is an academic and would welcome debate with you. instead of getting hostile or making it seem like fighting, the debates would be properly intellectual. he would quietly try to motivate you as well, perhaps baking your favourite treat, and being cruel enough to withhold them until you get something done. in turn, he needs to you balance out his seriousness, introducing him to new standards of life he dismissed earlier.

[the-chick-of-the-air]

Meet Me In The Woods

Summary: Jude and Cardan’s first meeting as children. One shot. Rated G

Jude was running as quickly as her short legs could carry her through the strange and terrifying fields and wooded areas of this weird place- Efham? What had that mean green monster called it again? She didn’t care, all she knew was she wanted out and back home, back to her mother and father-

But they were no more. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that. She missed them so much but couldn’t quite wrap her head around the fact that they were gone. She felt that if she ran fast and far enough away, she could run right back into her mother’s arms.

She hadn’t stuck around long enough to listen to the pretty lady with shiny hair tell them about this place. As soon as…Maddy? Maden? What was that monster’s name? As soon as he had ushered them off the strange ponies and into the big house, Jude immediately began searching for a way out. She herd something about princes and princesses and how they shouldn’t eat anything offered to them, but after that she had split.

She would go back for Vivi and Taryn once she found a way out. Then they could go back home and…well, they would figure the rest out later...

Meanwhile, a young, dark haired prince was fleeing from a murder scene.

Cardan was running as fast as he could through the grasslands of his home and into the wooded area near Hollow Hall. Dain had murdered a mortal and was going to blame it on him. His father would never listen. Even if they couldn’t lie, Dain had orchestrated it in such a way that he could say Cardan’s arrow had embedded itself into that human. He wouldn’t even be able to say the words “It wasn’t me!” before his father cast some punishment upon him.

So he ran.

Like a coward.

A relatively safe coward, though.

He wasn’t sure what he would do, where he would go. His mother had vanished and his father must have hated him, his siblings couldn’t care less whether he lived or died. He wasn’t exactly safe anywhere, even as a prince.

He just needed to get somewhere he could stop and think. Somewhere he could calm down enough to garner the courage needed to face his cruel family. Somewhere-

His thought process was brutally cut off as he collided with someone coming from the opposite direction. There was enough force behind the action that they were both sent sprawling to the ground in heaps of breathless fabric and tense muscles.

He would have told off whoever dare run into a prince of Elfhame, but he was panting and crying, and he had just been framed for a murder he didn’t commit and he really didn’t feel like throwing up that cruel front he used to get attention. He just wanted a break.

Jude lay, stunned, on the ground, trying to catch her breath as she gazed up at the star-dotted sky through tear filled eyes. Of course this would happen. Of course someone would interrupt her great escape. As if the fear of trying to run at all wasn’t bad enough in the first place, now she had to fear being dragged back to that horrible house, kicking and screaming. That monster killed her parents, she dreaded to think what he would do to her if she made him mad.

Sniffling brought her attention to the present. She hadn’t even thought to look at who she’d run into- just immediately assumed it was one of the big scary… things she saw around the house, sent to come take her back. But she was surprised when she sat up and was met with the sight of a boy, not much older then her, sitting there with tears streaming down his cheeks.

Jude’s first instinct was to get up and start running again, this boy scared her. He didn’t look like her, or any of the other kids she’d seen when she went to school. He had dark hair and darker eyes. Pointy ears- just like Vivi’s- and…was that a tail? What was this place?

The boy wiped the tears from his pale cheeks with a fist before regarding her with curiosity.

For some reason, Jude felt the need to stay seated. He was crying too. Maybe the fall had hurt him? Or maybe he was running too.

Cardan had finally turned to his assailant, only to find it was no assassin. It was another child. A mortal child. Cardan felt like he was going to be sick.

He noted, as he wiped his tears away that she was also crying. Had she been hurt when they collided? Her hair was shiny and full, and she looked completely aware of her surroundings. Maybe she had been glamoured and woke up somehow? If that was the case, then she needed to get back to her station before she was found and…

There was that sick feeling again.

Jude opened her mouth, intending to say something, anything, to get her out of this strange creature’s sights and back on the run.

She did not expect the first thing out of her mouth to be, “I won’t eat anything.”

The boy looked a bit stunned at this. He titled his head. Obviously that wasn’t what he expected her to say either.

Or maybe he didn’t speak English? Jude tried again.

“I said,” she started, drawing out the words so he would understand, “I. Won’t. Eat. Anything. You. Give. Me.” For some reason that’s what stuck with her out of the pretty lady’s welcome speech.

Cardan rose an eyebrow, why was she speaking like that? “I heard you the first time.”

Jude started. Oh. So he did understand. He sounded funny though, that same strange way of talking that monster and the pretty lady at the house had. It just made Jude want to cry more. Nothing was normal here.

“Who are you?” Cardan asked when she stayed silent.

Jude sniffed and raised her chin, “Jude Duarte.”

Well he had never heard of the name Duarte before. And she obviously wasn’t faerie. If her looks hadn’t already given that away, then her total willingness to give up full name would have.

She shocked him when she asked, “Who are you?” didn’t she know that already?

Cardan scowled, that now familiar instinct to block everyone out with hate flaring up again, “Cardan Greenbriar. Prince of Elfhame.”

Jude shook her head, completely ignoring his tone, “This place is weird.”

Affronted, Cardan barked the first thing that popped up in his head, “You’re weird.”

“No you are!” she shot back with a glare, “Everyone here is. That monster has green skin and that lady had white hair, and you have a tail and pointy ears like my sister.” She took a breath, “Everyone looks so scary.” She gripped her knees and drew them into her chest. She wanted to block out everything that was scaring her right now.

Cardan could agree with that at least. The folk were either beautiful or ugly. No in between. No ordinary, not like the girl in front of him.

Jude.

The name sounded strange, sounded mortal. He supposed he must have sounded strange to her. He sighed and said, “Yes, it can be.” He thought of Balekin and his evil grins. Of Dain and his wicked ways. Of his own father and the inability to love him like he loved his siblings. Even of General Madoc, always wearing a blood-drenched cap to important meetings. For the mortal’s sake, he hoped she never had to meet him.

Jude sniffed again, “Why…why were you crying?”

Cardan stiffened. He couldn’t tell her. It was complicated and bloody, and she looked really scared. No need to further petrify her. He shook his head, “Doesn’t matter. What about you?”

Jude had no qualms about dishing out what had happened, “The green monster killed my mom and dad. Then he took me and my sisters here. I was trying to go back.”

Green monster? Cardan assumed she was talking about one of the Goblin-Folk. Maybe a redcap…there was no way…

Before he could ask if it was Madoc that stole her, someone was calling out from the woods.

“Jude! Where did you go?”

Jude sighed, “That’s Vivi.” She stood and sent him one last glare, “Don’t tell anyone you saw me here.”

And then she was off, running towards whoever Vivi was. Cardan balked, who was this harebrained mortal to tell him what to do?

He growled and stood, noting that his tail was twitching nervously. Thinking of Jude’s mortification with the thing, and his own inability to hide his true emotions when it was out, he pouted and tucked it into his breeches.

He wasn’t sure what else to do. Nothing he did would convince his father that he had never and would never hurt a mortal. The only thing he could do was face his punishment with the grace of a prince. Rolling his small shoulders, he turned back to the palace and disappeared into the night.

~.~

The next day a revel was held as per usual. Cardan was forced to attend, even though he would much rather be up in his room studying or packing. After he had gotten back to the palace, his father had been unhappy with him. Predictably, he hadn’t listened to a word Cardan had to say and simply told him to prepare his things for packing. He would be moving to Hollow Hall with Balekin to be taught how to behave as a proper prince. Though he would still be attending school with the other Gentry.

Now, here he was, being forced to put on a fake smile as if to say “Don’t worry! Everything is fine within the royal family. You can completely trust our judgment on everything!” his only source of comfort- no matter how minor- were his friends. Nicasia was staying above water to uphold peace between the Undersea and Elfhame land. Valerian had no one better to spend his time with and Locke was always in the mood for fun. Despite his usual meddling, he could get Cardan to lighten up every so often.

Cardan stood at the dais with his family whilst guests were introduced. The young prince had little interest in this until General Madoc stepped forward.

With three young girls in tow.

As though they had been trained overnight, the three bowed alongside Madoc before straightening and going back to staring around in wonder.

Cardan locked eyes with Jude Duarte.

Or at least, he thought it was Jude. Next to her was an exact copy, the two girls were completely identical. Twins, Cardan recalled the term. Extremely rare in faerie, but still possible. Still, seeing it up close was strange. He absently wondered if it was like being two halves of one person, or the same person but doubled.

“General.” Eldred regarded Madoc, “I see you have brought company.”

Madoc nodded, “My daughters. Once hidden away in the mortal realm with their mother. Now where they belong.”

“One of them, at least.” The High King stated, eyeing the one that wasn’t a twin. Vivi, Cardan remembered Jude calling her.

She glared back and Cardan mused that he liked her. Liked Jude as well, if he were being honest- which he had no choice in being.

Madoc nodded solemnly, “My wife was… unfaithful. We thought she had died with my unborn child nine years ago in the estate fire. I recently found out she had in fact staged her death and escaped to the mortal realm with her new lover. Justin. The blacksmith if you recall?”

Eldred nodded, following along with the interesting tale. Cardan’s curiosity was piqued as well.

“They had offspring,” He gestured to the twins, “Taryn and Jude. When I found my wife, I… righted matters.”

“You killed them.” Vivi cut in, her tone like acid. Madoc winced.

“I knew the children could not be without a home, so I have taken them in. I plead they take their rightful place among the Gentry, and be granted the right to an education here in the palace alongside the other children.”

The High King nodded, not willing to reject a request from his general so simple as this. “Of course, they will train right alongside my own son, Cardan. The youngest of his siblings and still in school.” He waved the prince forward and Cardan had to comply.

“Say hello.” Eldred ordered, masking it with a light tone. Cardan inwardly cringed. This was meant to disgrace him, putting him on display in front of the General’s bastard offspring. He locked eyes with who he hopped was Jude (He was probably right, he got an icy glare in return) and nodded his head.

“Hello.”

Eldred smiled and removed the hand he had placed on Cardan’s shoulder, “I hope you’ll get along. Now please, enjoy the festivities.”

Madoc nodded and turned from the royal family, ushering the three girls along. Jude sent a glare back at them. She hated it here and no amount of nice words would change that.

Cardan watched them go with a strange feeling setting into his chest, not quite sadness…loneliness, maybe? Perhaps in a different world, they could have all been friends.

As they mixed with the crowd, a single name rang through the young prince’s head to a curious little melody.

Jude.

~.~

Years later, the High King and High Queen lay together under a large tree.

Cardan gently ran his fingers through his wife’s full and shiny hair. Quietly he asked, “Do you know what’s special about this place, love?”

Jude pretended to think about it, placing her fingers to her chin in mock thought, “Hmm…this is where our favorite type of flower grows best?” She giggled as her husband tugged a lock of her hair. After a moment she whispered against his chest, “Of course I remember. It’s where I met my greatest enemy!”

Cardan stuck out his bottom lip in a pout. She was playing dirty now…

Swiftly, Jude kissed the pout away. When she pulled back, she traced the fine point of his ear, saying, “It’s where I first met the love of my life.”

Let me know what you guys think!

Tag list:

(Please let me know if you would like to be added to my tag list!)

@woodsbeyond1 @cardan-greenbriar-tcp @thewickedkings @aneurwin @snusbandxknifewife @jurdanhell @andromeddea @dressedindustandshadows @thesirenwashere

[lilikags]

Hello! Can I request a romantic matchup for tears of themis please? I am okay with my info being posted since for some reasons none can tag me....

Appearance : 5'4 ace/heteromantic girl ambivert.Dark brown hair/eyes (I wear glasses but they are also sun glasses because bright lights give me a headache) a little chubby/muscled and pale skin+permanent smirk/smile/ neutral face. Plump lips. My style varies a lot (always comfy) but I never wear dresses heels/makeup. I love to imagine outfits with symbols from fandoms or my own drawings so I have a rather unique style (most of the time I wear a NASA jacket and leather boots/sneakers, I also love sleeveless turtleneck) who changes a lot. I have malleable cheeks and tiny hands/fingers/wrist.

MBTI: INTP-T and chaotic neutral/good

Zodiac: Gemini sun, Taurus rising, libra moon

Enneagram : My dominant is type 5 then 8. Quizzes says that I am a 5w6 or 8w7

Personality : .Sarcastic,a little naive but I have a backbone (don't bother flirting with me and if you feel that I am flirting with you which happens a lot then it's just my personality and on the rare occasion I notice they have to confess or I won't believe it) ,calculative,protective,creative,expressive,manipulative,a devil's advocate,prideful,charismatic, smartass, bookworm, daydreamer, a little insensitive/blunt because I'm more on the logical side ,vengeful, mischievous, a huge tease, open minded, very curious, gets annoyed easily, impatient (unless it's in drawing because I am a perfectionist there) so kind of a bad temper, observant but not romantically,sadistic to a point but my conscience prevents me from doing these acts. Indifferent to many things, morally ambiguous as my moral compass is on the neutral side I don't believe in absolute evil/good, y'all better thank my conscience they work too well I never have fun.

With my friends I am either laughing, goofing around or annoyed. I love to give bad puns or cursed ideas who are gore/weird and saying I know y all love me. Those who don't talk to me see me as a nerd aggressive smart and blunt person ( even prideful) and strangers as polite and kind. I notice a lot of details because I don't let my guard down even if I daydream plus I have a photographic + sound memory and they work very well in all situations which can be a bother when I try to concentrate which is difficult for me because I get distracted easily. Also I have very weird reflexes so...anyone who approaches me by surprise gets hit, any sudden movement and I already have my leg/arm going their way which got me into a lot of trouble.

Dislikes: I fight for my beliefs. I have trust issues so I never talk about my problems and will use humor when confronted. Bright lights. Cooking. Slow things or people. When I get teased in a mean way (otherwise I actually like being teased it's a fun fight after). People who change side easily and hypocrites. Overly serious people. I tend to be aggressive and expose an annoyed face easily (I am moody), plus I hate orders and love pressing buttons it's funny(in a fun way rarely in a mean one) unless it's a sensitive subject. When I feel that I am unwanted or someone insults me or take me for granted I become very cold and distance myself and the relationship becomes strained the more they take time to ask for forgiveness, something I might give but will never forget.

Likes: I love cats/laughter/sweets/pranks/dark humour/ a true crime and Supernatural enthusiast and I love science especially concerning space, chemistry, robotic and psychology. Books, sleep, drawing and video games too. Cherries. Sushi.Oh and debates I love them. Surprises too I hate routine and runs away from it. I like making character analysis which I often get right but never show to the people around me because I know they will trust me less.

Hobbits : Reading, getting lost in a book, drawing, learning, debating, daydreaming, sports (I practice karate and shooting), art (piano/drawing/writing especially poetry) and video games

I have some bad habits like biting my nails (I just got rid of it by painting them black)/lips and moving my leg up and down because I am always nervous, disorganized room/sleep and eating schedule plus I am lazy. Also I might try to hide it but I am very competitive and a sore loser

Fun fact : I dream a lot and write my dreams. I don't mind nightmares on the contrary I welcome them because I find them to be a nice experience and they give me ideas plus the amount of emotions you can feel is amazing. I also tend to curse while talking.

When I get hurt, none takes me seriously because I start laughing uncontrollably even if it hurts a lot. Which means if I get stabbed, I am not dying of blood lost, nooo I am dying of laughter.

I rarely get motivated but when I do I give a very good work and put my soul in it, if I don't reach my goal I feel down for a while and become very snappy.

I am a lazy student (hell if I don't feel like writting I don't especially exercises that I understood) but also at top of my class so none says anything (i can befriend people easily if I want to, teachers included). My projects are often done last minute or just improvisation but I get a good mark at them which means that yes sometimes I can become arrogant and I don't really know what it feels like to study really hard and fail sorry. But I know it will bite me later. I often argue my way out of a situation with anyone : I know the exercise why should I write it? If I told you the answer then I know how I got it and you know it too no need for me to write the correction. Mum the brain is a muscle too so I am in fact exercising.

When dealing with an emotional person I don't know what to do I will try to give them words to keep going, it succeed but I am rather harsh plus I try to make jokes to cheer them up.But if a friend breaks down before me I will do my best to cheer them up (ahem jokes and reminding them of all the success they achieved) and if I am comfortable and they want a hug I will give it. I hate people who denies that others helped them.

My love language is gifts, quality time, a little act of service and affection in private if comfortable. I also love to send memes saying it reminds me of us/you and holding pinkies.

I am stubborn, moody (one day I can be really cold/snappy to the person because I am in a bad mood but I apologize after). I speak Arabic, french and English (in that order) and trying to learn italian. I am also an only child. I hate being treated as a damsel in distress.

Thank you and take care!

sorry, all the matchups for this month have been taken up. feel free to request next month though! >.<

[finelinesolo]

Rules are Rules - a Ben Solo One Shot (AU)

Rating: EXPLICIT (smut)

Summary: You work at the busiest bar in the city, and one night Ben Solo comes in. Small talk, small talk — you two end up in the bathroom.

Notes: thank you for 600 on twitter!! xo’s - Lizzie

Maybe it was the freezing New York City air or maybe the lack of caffeine in your system was finally getting to you, but goosebumps danced across your arms frantically – sending a chilling shiver down your spine. There was nothing you hated more than working the closing shift, especially on Fridays. Being a bartender was fun at times and the money was pretty good, but having to be the one to kick the drunks out after last call and listen to them bitch and groan about their wives hating them or their lives falling apart was a chore no one wanted to do.

As hard as you begged, no one seemed to want to cover your shift. You were halfway tempted to just call in sick, electing not to out of fear of your boss raising hell to fire you.

A groan slipped from your lips when you heard the banging speakers and screaming people pour out of the door, their legs barely keeping them afloat as they stumbled down the street. Did you bring your Advil today? Better yet, would the Advil be enough to get you through this? You knew the answer was no, but ignorance is bliss – and that would be the only thing to save you now.

Popping the medicine into your mouth, you step through the door – already counting the seconds until you could clock off.

You knew wiping down counters repeatedly was only fun for so long, but anything was better than making strawberry martinis and cosmos for the bridal party that came in tonight. The minute they entered, you tossed the main bar to your co-worker, electing to take over bottle service and the occasional table wipe down. The tasks irritated you to no end, but every time one of the girls released a shriek pitched high enough to break glass, you hugged the rag in your hand a little tighter.

Before you could start on another table, you felt the seat next to you pull out - and man with a mop of black hair and an electric smile plopping down. His eyes lingered on yours - the hazel color swallowing you whole. He was cute, you hated to admit. It was easier for you to pretend that everyone who came into this place was a slob, however you had never wanted to be wrong more in your life.

“Bottle girl tonight, I see.” He said, raising a hand at the waitress to put an order in. His eyes drifted down to your legs, sitting there for a second before flashing back to meet your gaze. “Nice legs, by the way. You’re always behind the bar, I’ve never seen them before.” He cocked a lazy smile at your co-worker, lazily ordering a whiskey neat. She glanced up at you before scurrying off, swaying her hips in the process. To impress this guy, you guessed. A small giggle fell from your lips, causing his eyes to fall back on you. You tried to suppress your laughter, but it came anyways.

“Something funny?” He asked, crossing his arms across his chest. The position drew attention to the muscles laced through his arms, your throat closing momentarily at the sight. “No, not at all. You enjoyed the show, I assume?” You ask, lifting your head to gesture at your co-worker. He rolled his eyes, leaning forward onto the table. “Every time I’m in here she does the same thing - maybe I should keep track, throw her a party when she hits 100.” Oh, so he had jokes. You rack your brain to remember who he was, drawing a blank after a few moments. “You’re a regular, I assume?” You ask, dropping your rag on his table to at least try to make it look like you are working so your boss didn't chew you out. He nodded; eyes steady on the bar to track his drink. “You don’t remember me? Ouch, that stings. I’ll remember that the next time I tip.” You knew he was kidding, his tone of voice said that much. He squinted his eyes at you, studying your expression. There wasn’t much to see, clearly - his gaze returning to the line of drinks forming on the counter.

“I’m Ben, Ben Solo. And you?” His voice was loud, the sound carrying through the booming music that busted your ear drums on the daily. “I’m Y/N - it’s nice to meet you, Ben.” It was a cute name, for a cute guy. You wondered if there was something deeper here - like maybe he was a serial killer and came here looking for girls to murder. You’d seen some creepy guys come through here, but he didn’t seem like one. Creepy guys don’t dress this well – his torso was framed tightly by a black dress top, his bottom half matched with plain jeans. Black boots sealed the look, and you couldn’t help but wonder what was hiding underneath all those buttons.

“So, Ben, what do you do?” You ask, throwing the rag over your shoulder so you could lean closer. He noticed, resting his chin on his palm to meet your distance. “I’m a pilot, but I live here. I have the next couple days off.” A pilot. This man was a rich, successful, pilot – so what was he doing in this part of town, getting drinks from the busiest dive bar in the city? “And what about you, bottle girl? Are you a full-time bartender or do you live a double life?” He smiled softly at you, the curve of his lips forcing you to return the grin. “I’m that predictable, huh? Yeah, Speech Pathology student by day, slave to the drink by night.”  He raised his eyebrow, the emotion behind it was unreadable. “Speech Pathology, huh? So, you’re an expert with mouth movement, huh?” His tone shifted towards the end, the weight of it growing stronger - like it was sitting on your chest. Yes, your major included those techniques - something your friends loved to tease you about. No one you’d slept with really cared, yet here was this man already using it to his favor. “Somewhat, yes. Why? Are you looking for a lesson?” A bold statement, you knew. Normally you’d never engage a customer, but in your eyes – this man didn’t count. His face shifted to glance back at the bar, his drink still not there. You hoped they forgot to make it - that maybe you’d be able to steal him before he got it. Before you could ask again, you felt his hand land on your thigh - his fingers drawing soft circles as they traveled up towards your hip. “How much time do you have?” He asked, the heat radiating from him warming your skin.

“As much as you're willing to give me.” The distance between you two grew smaller and smaller until you were practically sitting in his lap, your leg draped softly over his bottom half. Your face loomed over his, standing up having given you the high ground. The bar grew more crowded, the hoard of dancers covering you two from the judging glances of your co-workers – something you’d remember to thank God for later. He raised his jaw, gesturing towards the one family bathroom the building had. There wasn’t a line for it, something that rarely happens. Nodding in agreement, he snatches your hand to drag you forward. His legs carried him faster than you could keep up with, and it wasn’t until now that you realized how tall he was. No wonder he could make a b-line so quick, the man was easily 6’3.

Once inside the room, Ben wrapped his arms around your waist – turning you to press your back against the door as it shut. His lips softly brushed against yours’s, the hum of your chests reverberating against each other. He had big hands, another thing you didn’t notice until now. One sprawled against your hip, the other grasped the back of your neck tightly. The air was thick with the smell of spilt liquor and sweat from the dance floor - a trait you normally detested, but with Ben this close, you could faintly smell his cologne - a mix of sandalwood and mint fluttered in your nose. You wanted nothing more than for him to kiss you, but he wasn’t playing that game this evening. He wasn’t vanilla, clearly – your heart pounded at the thought of what he was capable of.

“Sweetheart,” his voice was sweet like candy, but was still coated with that same dark tone you enjoyed so much before. His breath was hot on your skin, the bottom of his lip tucked between his top teeth for just a second as he contemplated his next sentence. “How much are you willing to do?” The question was dumb, but you appreciated it, nonetheless. “In what way, Ben?” You asked, your lashes fluttering softly to not squirm away from his touch. It was driving you crazy, and he knew it too – his hands digging a little deeper into your skin. “I want all of you, every inch. But are you going to be good and let me take my time with you or can you not handle it?” His words dripped with intensity, and you fought the urge to audibly gasp. You were on the clock, but the idea of going back to work right now sounded like an unusual form of torture. You nod, slowly – watching that same grin you saw earlier form on his mouth. He loved this, clearly. And you did too, shockingly enough.  Normally you’d never hook up with someone in a bathroom, but it was just your luck that it had been deep cleaned before rush tonight.

“Any rules?” You asked, your arms wrapping around his neck. The gesture was so normal to you, yet he managed to reject it so fast – his hands grabbing yours to pin them above your head.

“Yes, a few.”

Whether it was shock or excitement that was heating your face, you didn’t care. The force behind his actions was electrifying, every move he made left you wondering what would come next. His eyes caught yours, silently asking to continue. You nod, maintaining eye contact as you twitched beneath him.

“You don’t do anything without asking. You even try to cum before I let you and I’ll pull away.” His voice got quiet as he nudged your head to get at your neck, placing soft kisses along your jaw. The pace was agonizing, his tongue dragging a small line across your skin. You groaned under your breath, the feeling causing your knees to wobble.

“You’re not allowed to touch me.” The rule was mind-boggling, and you weren’t sure how you’d be able to follow it. He was built like a marble statue, and the idea of not being able to drag your fingers across his figure seemed impossible.

“And what if I break it?” You ask, your voice faltering as he sucked on the skin below your earlobe. The soft laugh that escaped his lips sounded borderline threatening, his grip on your wrists only tightening. “Do you want me to leave you here to finish yourself?” No. No you did not.

“Rules are rules, sweetheart.” His voice carried through your ears like a melody.

Nodding, you mentally sign off on his rules. It’s not like what he was asking for was totally insane, you had seen much worse watching the people who came into this bar. His grip on your wrists changed, transferring both into one hand while he brought the other to grasp your hip. Your mouth released a soft moan at his touch, everything he did elicited a reaction from deep within you. It wasn’t long before you felt his lips on yours, the soft pillow-like texture clouding your thoughts. His kiss was unlike anything you’d felt before – like they were custom fit for yours’s, or that they had molded so quickly to fit your every movement. He turned his head to the side to angle deeper, swiping his tongue softly against your bottom lip to earn entry – and who were you to deny him that?

You wanted nothing more than to grab a fistful of his hair and pull it for strength, but that was clearly not an option now. He had open reign of your body, his free hand roaming up under your shirt to unclasp your bra.

With one hand? A talent.

Before you could realize it, your top half was exposed – he analyzed your every inch as if he was afraid, he’d miss a part. No one had ever taken in all of you like this, the nerves of being open to him causing you to shiver. He felt it, you assumed – releasing your wrists.

“Don’t move them - are we clear?” You nod, keeping your arms pressed against the door. His big hands slid up your side while he kissed down your collarbone and over the top of your chest. Hot air pounded against your forehead from the lack of AC that ever pumped into this room. You’d never had a fond memory here, but you were sure this would quickly top the list.

His lips clasped around your nipple fervently, as if he were in a rush – and maybe he was, you were at work and the risk of someone drunkenly stumbling through the door to puke was high. Your mind was racing, not able to place thoughts to actions as he dragged his tongue along your skin. The lights flickered softly, growing dimmer every passing second. It was like the further he got along your body, the darker it got. Ben didn’t seem to notice, focused on the task at hand. He stepped back momentarily, unbuttoning his shirt as fast as he could.  

“You just want me to stand here like this, huh?” You asked, your wrists resting against the cold metal of the door. A kink was a kink, you guessed – but this was the first you’d met someone who didn’t want you to touch them. You’d read about it time to time, and seen it in that 50 shades movie - but this was a real person with real rules, and you couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if you broke them.

A dash of courage races through your head, your hands working for you. Ben was so lost in unbuttoning his shirt, he didn’t notice you lurch forward to place your hands on his chest. His eyes flew open, shock splashed across his face. He didn’t stop you, his eyes intently staring at your every movement. As predicted, his body was stunning. The build of his torso was like something out of a dream, soft skin draped over toned muscle. His breath was shallow as your hand fell lower – a reaction that only encouraged you to go further. Oddly enough, he still wasn’t stopping you - he let you continue your exploration, watching your fingers fumble with the button of his pants. It popped open quietly, causing the hemline to drop slightly past his hip, exposing more skin. You raise your eyes to meet his gaze, hoping he’d let you continue.

The rules. You were doing a shit job at following them, and he was either playing a trick on you to see if you’d get back in line, or he didn’t care – and Ben didn’t seem like the kind of guy to forgive so easily.

Steadily, you raise your hands in defeat – stepping back against the door as he asked to stay before. Pride washed across his face, his frame towering over you as he pressed up against you again.

“Good girl.”

He returned his mouth to yours, an exhale of relief leaving lips in the process. Your stomach did 180 flips every time he touched you, and you couldn’t help but want to run your fingers through his hair and pull. This was the point, clearly – he knew that you not being able to touch him would drive you crazy, and he was right.

Ben slapped your legs softly, gesturing for you to jump into his arms. Wrapping your legs around his hips, you had assumed that meant the no touch rule was over – clearly not, because before you could finally touch his hair, he used one hand to catch them as he strode across the room to place you on the sink. You groan in frustration – desperate to feel his hot skin against your palm. He laughed softly under his breath, hiking your skirt up to let it pool at your hips. Ben stood in between your legs, his size keeping them spread far apart. The cold porcelain pressed into your thighs, goosebumps appearing in its place. The warmth from the man in front of you was enough to suppress them, his arms returning to their place around your hips. He softly kissed down your face, stopping at your lips.

“Do you want my mouth?”

Blunt, yes. You’ve noticed that he was straight to the point, a trait you’d normally detest. But it was hot on him. Everything was.

“Yes, yes please.”

Ben smirked, getting down on his knees to place a hand on your stomach – pressing you against the mirror. The glass chilled you to your spine, a small gasp escaping your lips from the contact. He either didn’t notice or didn’t care, placing soft kisses along your inner thigh to tease you.

“Ben, please.” You begged, swallowing your pride out of desperation to feel him. Nerves wracked your chest and you weren’t sure why. You’d hooked up with people before, even in public once or twice - but this was the first time you’d felt immobile in front of a man, as if your body only acted because he told it too. He noticed your trance, hooking a finger on your underwear to move it to the side. He let out a puff of cold air, the contact causing your legs to fly up. He didn’t care, leaning back a bit to prop your knees on his shoulders for a better angle.

It was a quick second before you felt his mouth on you, the pressure that was building up in your stomach immediately releasing at the feeling. Your hands found purchase on the side of the sink, the sudden thought of his rules reminding you to not grab at his hair. He licked in zig-zag formation, his tongue pressing in harder after landing on your clit. The air was sucked from your lungs, a moan forcing its way out. Ben wrapped his arms around your hips in return, holding you in place. His head rotated in small circles, mouthing at your center at a quicker pace. Every couple seconds he’d groan against you, the sound vibrating your clit in ways that made your head spin.

“You like that, huh?” He asked, pulling away shortly to press your buttons. All you could do was nod - his tongue pushing through your folds again taking away your ability to speak. He seemed to want words, his frame teetering backwards to blow cold air on your entrance. The feeling was electric, and you never wanted it to end. Shrieking, your knuckles went white from gripping the sink.

“Yes, god yes. Please don’t stop.” The words came out as more of a stutter.

“Please what? Tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

He knew. He wasn’t dumb. Why did he need vocals?

“Please, I need you to make me cum. Ben-” Your breath was hot as is exhaled, the words stumbling out in an incoherent mess. “I want your fingers, and your mouth – please.”

He raised an eyebrow, pleased with his effect on you. “Fingers too, huh? Greedy little thing.” Not that he cared, of course. Ben didn’t waste a second, raising his middle finger to your entrance and pushing in. The feeling was euphoric, his pace quickening to match the rise and fall of your chest. He murmured against your center, sucking your clit while his fingers curled deep inside of you. It was almost too much, and you knew you’d only last so long.

“Oh, god yes - daddy.”

Your eyes flew open, one of your hands coming up to slam over your mouth. Why? Why now?

“What did you just call me?” He asked, his grip on your hip tightening slightly.

“Nothing. I called you nothing.” You felt like an idiot, and you were an idiot. You’d always wanted to try calling someone that, but no one ever made you feel like they’d be okay with it. That, or they were boring to the point that you couldn’t get yourself to say it.  And here you were, naked on top of a sink – waiting for the one man you found that deserved the title, to decide if it was okay.

“Say it. What did you call me?” He said again, this time darker in tone.

“Daddy.” It came out weak, sheepish even. You swallowed your spit hoping it would make your speech clear up.

He smirked, the expression causing a wave of relief to wash over you. Returning to his place in between your legs, his lips kissed down your pussy – lapping softly at the skin just above your entrance. Fingers and all, this man knew what he was doing. Hunger for him raged on in your chest, and you weren’t sure how much longer you’d last like this.

“Oh, sweetheart – you taste so good. You like it when daddy does this, huh?” He said, his words pulsating against you. “Yes, yes.” You sigh, your legs starting to shake. The closer you got to finishing, the harder it was to focus. Your vision was blurring with every passing second.

“Ben -” you start, the pressure building in your stomach becoming unbearable. “Can I please cum? Please?” It came out as a plea, like your life depended on it. He looked up at you from his spot, the eye contact threatening to send you over the edge.

“Hm, not yet. Count to 10 and I’ll let you.” He says, staying close to you. You nod – confused with how 10 seconds would affect anything.

“1…”

He swirled his tongue around your clit, pushing his fingers in completely.

“2 … 3 …. 4 …”

Ben moaned against you, shaking his head from left to right to create friction.

“5 … 6 … 7 ... “

“I don’t know if I can do this Ben-” You gasp, sweat dripping from your brow as you try to hold your orgasm in. He dug his nails into your skin, signaling to continue.

“8… 9 … 10 …”

He sucked harshly, releasing your clit but continuing to push in and out of you at full force. “Cum, sweetheart. Cum for daddy.”

You felt your body wrack with shakes as you released, the power behind it causing your back to fly off the mirror – sitting straight up once again. You wanted to catch your breath, but Ben had better ideas. He stood to his feet, pulling you against his chest.

“I’m on the pill -” you whisper, his head resting on your shoulder. He nodded, leaning down to shuffle out of his pants. Pulling his boxers down, his cock was released from its hold. Your eyes flew open wide – the size of it taking away your ability to speak. This could hurt, and you almost wanted it to hurt.

He hooked one of his arms under your leg, lifting it slightly. You impulsively reached forward, grabbing his shoulders for support. This was breaking the rules, you knew that. Ben’s eyes traced your frame, nodding in approval at your position.

“You’ve been good, sweetheart – you can keep your hands there.”

You couldn’t help but feel relief, tightening your grip around his neck – your fingers finally trailing into his hair. It was just as soft as you hoped, the locks tangling around your grip. Ben groaned at the close contact, letting out a harsh breath before thrusting himself all the way inside you, filling you up. Your grip faltered, his arms catching you before you fell back against the mirror again. Pulling him closer after, your neck gave out – finding a resting spot on his shoulder. He closed his eyes, adjusting to the feeling of you around him.

“You’re so tight - damn, sweetheart.” You were, but mainly because of him - the man was stretching you as far as you could take. “You like how I fill you up, huh? Tell me how much you like it.”

Words were not coming out, an example of his effect on you. All you could manage were a few murmured words, flying out of your mouth in a haste.

“Yes - Yes, I love it, ugh.” That’s as good as it was going to get for you, his mouth curving into a smirk watching you come undone at his will. The sound of desperation in your voice only encouraged him further, picking up his pace. He holds you against him as he plunges his cock as deep as it would go, grunting and moaning obscenities along the way. Every move he made went straight to your core, the impact relentless. You wanted to scream or bang your arms against the wall – everything he did felt so damn good, and you didn’t know how else to express it. Your eyes begin to water, one hand coming in between you to rub vicious circles on your clit while the other finds purchase gently wrapped around your throat. You were fairly sure he was out to kill you, and the idea of going back to work after this was near impossible. He groans, elbowing your left leg, silently asking you to lift it just as he had it before. You oblige, the angle only sending him deeper. You make a mental note to thank your DJ for blasting the music so loud it was virtually impossible to hear anything, imagining a way to explain this to your coworkers if they caught you. His brain was on a different wavelength clearly, pounding into you relentlessly and enjoying every second.

“Don’t forget to tell me when you’re close.” He grunts, his fingers still rotating your clit deliciously. And you were, but you didn’t want this to end. How much longer could you drag this out for?

Your orgasm had other things in mind, creeping up on you quickly. You shriek, slapping his shoulder and shaking your head. “Ben, I’m so close, please-” He shook his head, slamming into you again but halting his movement, the length pressed against you causing your breath to catch in your throat.

“Cum now sweetheart, now.”

You scream into his shoulder, softly biting the skin to relieve the tension. His breath hitched quickly after yours, finishing inside of you while you continued shaking underneath his body. He slowly thrusts in and out of you to help you ride out your climax before slowing to a stop, his head leaning against yours. Your ragged breaths mixed with his, the air between you thin. The outline of the skin made your legs sore, a soft whimper of pain pushing past your lips. Ben assumed so, wrapping your legs around his hips tighter so he could lift you up, carrying you over to the small counter placed in the counter. The surface was less harsh, the surge of pain you felt before dissipating. He kissed your forehead, reaching to his left to grab some paper towels.

“Close your eyes, sweetheart.” Following his instructions, you feel him softly dab at your hairline - cleaning up the sweat forming. He did the same further down your body, wiping along your collarbone and your jaw. It was a sweet gesture compared to the way he was wrecking you earlier.

He finished, throwing the paper away and returning with your clothes. You dressed in silence, stealing a glance at him through the corner of your eye every couple seconds. Once everything was fastened, you stood on opposite sides of the bathroom, eyes glued to each other. His feet carried him in stride, his hands on either side of your face while he kissed you softly. You melted into his touch, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“What time do you get off tonight?” He asked, staring at your lips – waiting for an answer.

“I close, so around 2.” He flipped his wrist, glancing at his watch for time. It must have been around midnight at this point.

“I’ll wait for you, then you’re coming home with me.” He said with that same smirk crossing his face in the way you liked so much. That could be arranged, but you weren’t going to let him off that easily.

“Oh, really? And why is that?” You whisper against his jaw, placing soft kisses up until you reached just under his ear lobe, swirling your tongue there softly. He shuddered against you, pulling you away with his eyes squinted.

“Because I said so, and rules are rules.”

[cozy-the-overlord]

Crimson Curls

Summary:  A barista at the Avengers Tower coffeeshop goes missing. Her boyfriend, prominent Avengers engineer Michael Hauer, headlines a desperate campaign to find her, aided by the support of Tony Stark and the rest of the super-powered team. But as Hauer’s narrative begins to unravel, it becomes clear that a certain Asgardian prince knows more than he’s telling.

Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character

Chapter 2: Perception

Previous Chapter  | Next Chapter

Word Count: 7,914

A/N:  This is a long one... I actually considered chopping it into two chapters, but that would have messed up my careful three-act-structure plans, so I kept it in one. Hope you don’t mind!

TW: domestic violence

Read it on Ao3

It all started because of the Christmas party.

The funny thing was Loki didn’t even want to go to the party. He would have much preferred to remain in his room, flipping through a book he had read hundreds of times before, shielded from the crowds of eyes widening in alarm and conversations that would trail off when they noticed his presence. The mood always shifted when people realized that the alien who invaded New York was in the same room as them, and Loki had become rather exhausted of it.

But Thor had insisted. “Please, brother,” he wheedled. “Just this once. You’ll enjoy it, I swear!”

He had ended up humoring his brother, simply because he knew he’d never hear the end of it if he didn’t. He didn’t expect to be there long. Surely, within an hour Thor would have broken out the Asgardian mead and subsequently have forgotten all else, and Loki could slip away to the sanctuary of his soundproofed quarters.

Stark had been going around introducing them to his various compatriots: everyone wanted to meet Thor, and Loki was an unfortunate obstacle that they had to put up with to do so. Loki hadn’t been paying much attention to them.

But after a while, there was one couple that caught his eye.

“Oh, Thor, you wanna meet this guy!” Stark said excitedly, steering them over to the corner of the room. “Hey, Hauer! Over here!”

Michael Hauer was unimpressive. Tall, pale, blonde—his face looked no different from the dozens of other men Stark had paraded in front of him throughout the night.

It was the woman that stood next to him that piqued his interest.

“This guy’s one of our most talented engineers,” Stark was saying. “That new Quinjet was mostly his design.”

“You give me too much credit, sir,” said the man, grinning widly. He grasped the arm of his companion and pulled her forward. “This is my girlfriend, Kristine.”

Kristine smiled too, but it didn’t quite reach her cerulean eyes. She was a small woman, but her posture made her look even smaller, with the way she huddled in on herself, her face barely peeking out through the strands of her curly red hair. Her long-sleeved dress clung to her body and only accentuated her thin form. She looked like a twig, ready to snap in half.

Her dress was green. Perhaps it was silly that such a thing still garnered Loki’s attention after all this time, but it did. On Asgard, green had been his color, just as red had been Thor’s. Women hoping to gain his favor used to wear green to the royal balls, hoping that he would notice how perfectly the color of their gowns matched his cape. He was well aware, of course, that such a practice was practically nonexistent on Earth. He understood that the Midgardian holiday they were celebrating was associated with the very same colors he and his brother had once claimed for their own. The color of the woman’s dress meant nothing.

But it still caught his eye.

Thor bowed gallantly. “It’s lovely to meet you, my lady.” Studying her face, he added, “I think I’ve seen you before. Don’t you work at the coffeeshop?”

Kristine tensed. “Yes sir, I do,” she mumbled, her voice just barely legible amidst the hum of conversation. She refused to raise her gaze from the floor.

Stark laughed boisterously. “Of course, how could I forget?” He motioned towards her wild mane. “You really do stand out in a crowd, don’t you? Gee, is that how you two met? What do you know, I’m a matchmaker!”

Hauer and Thor both joined in his laughter, but Kristine just looked uncomfortable. Loki cocked his head to the side. It seemed he had found someone even more miserable at this godforsaken party than he was.

He kept an eye on her for the remainder of the night. It wasn’t that he intended to watch her, but his gaze kept drifting back to her frizzy red hair and her sparkling emerald dress. She looked rather lonely, hovering in her boyfriend’s shadow for the entire night. Hauer barely acknowledged her. He was too busy laughing with Stark or enthusiastically explaining something to Rodgers or guzzling beer with Thor. Loki was rather disgusted by it. Had he been Kristine, he would have walked out hours ago.

It was later in the night when he finally decided to approach her. He had been debating about it for a while. On one hand, perhaps she preferred to be invisible—as unhappy as she looked, she didn’t appear to be complaining about her situation. She certainly wasn’t making the effort to capture Hauer’s attention or to find other means of entertainment. But still, something ached in his chest at the way she stood by so stiffly silent as her boyfriend frolicked about the room having the time of his life.

When Hauer joined the crowd gathered on the balcony attempting to lift Thor’s hammer, Loki made his way to her.

He bowed slightly. “Forgive my forwardness, my lady, but I was wondering if you’d honor me with a dance.”

Kristine was startled. “Oh!” she gasped, jumping a bit. She glanced towards the balcony uncertainly. “Uh… alright.”

He saw it there, that familiar flash of fear that he had been so desperate to avoid tonight. He cursed himself inwardly. What had he expected? “I don’t mean to pressure you—”

“No, no, it’s fine!” she interrupted hurriedly. Behind them, people hooted and chanted as Hauer tried his luck with the hammer. She turned back towards Loki. “I’d like to. Dance, that is.” Her cheeks flushed pink.

“Wonderful.” Loki offered his hand, smiling slightly when she took it.

Loki had long been of the opinion that Midgardians had no regard for proper dance. The complex steps and fluid motions of his youth had no place on the barbaric mortal floors. However, that night he experienced a rare stroke of luck. The song that was playing was softer, the couples dancing merely swaying slowly to the notes. He pulled Kristine on to the dance floor, and the two fell into a rhythm quite smoothly.

At first, they didn’t speak. Loki wasn’t sure what to say. She was clearly not at ease—he could feel the tension in her muscles as they danced—but he was beginning to doubt that he was the cause of her discomfort. She kept looking back towards the balcony, as if at any moment she expected something to come crashing through the windows. When somebody coming back into the main room slammed the door, she whipped her head around so quickly that Loki’s cheek was pelted by red curls.

Kristine gasped in embarrassment. “Sorry!” she said quickly, stumbling over her words. “My hair—I know it’s a complete mess, I try to get it to stay put—”

Loki laughed. “Nonsense. It’s lovely the way it is.” She made a face, shrugging indifferently, and he frowned. “Why would you ever think otherwise?”

“I mean— it’s so hard to care for,” she said. “And it gets on Michael’s nerves. Such a mess…”

There was something in her tone that Loki didn’t like, something that seemed to go deeper than hairstyles.

“It’s perfect,” he said fiercely. After a moment, he added, “My mother always thought red hair was the prettiest shade.” He inhaled at the memory. Frigga had loved the color because of her mother’s red hair. Her sisters had all inherited the same shade, but she had been left with her father’s golden brown. She used to tell him this story often when he was a child, whenever he questioned why he looked nothing like his older brother. Although now, all things considered, he found himself wondering if that had just been yet another lie to keep him from trying to look deeper.

Kristine looked thoughtful. “Really? Huh. My mother used to say the same thing,” she sighed. “But I guess all mothers tell their kids they’re pretty.”

“Perhaps, but in your case, she was speaking the truth.”

The girl blushed. “Thank you,” she murmured.

Kristine seemed quite shy, but she laughed when he made a sarcastic joke about Thor’s hammer overcompensation, and when the first dance ended, she agreed to the second without hesitation.

“I’m not used to doing much at these things,” she admitted. “I don’t really know anyone here except Michael. I never know what to do with myself.”

“He’s not one for dancing, I take it?” Loki asked.

Kristine laughed nervously. “No, not really.”

Their conversation continued, soft and simple. Slowly, she began sharing tiny details about herself. She grew up in Virginia. She liked to draw. Her favorite color was dark blue, but she liked green too—although she seemed embarrassed when he complimented her gown.

“It’s just a plain old green dress,” she told him. “I’ve had it for years. There’s nothing really special about it or anything.”

“I don’t find it plain. It’s quite striking on you,” he twirled her gently, watching her skirt fan out around her legs. “Very pretty.”

When he pulled her back, her cheeks were bright red. ��Thanks,” Kristine sputtered. “I-I think you’re pretty too.” She winced. “Oh, that sounded weird—”

Loki chuckled. “Not at all,” he said. “I’ll take what I can get.”

He was enjoying himself far more than he preferred to admit. When was the last time he had had a friendly, casual conversation with anyone? His interactions with the Avengers were stilted at best— a reluctant necessity that both parties avoided as much as they could. And Thor… Thor was still trying to live a fantasy where the past had been entirely forgotten and everything had been fixed between the two of them. Call it irony, but Loki wasn’t that talented at lying to himself.

But this… this was nice. Just talking, joking, laughing. Spending time with someone who didn’t have any ulterior motives or unreasonable expectations. It was rather refreshing, even.

Which is why it of course had to end abruptly.

“Kris!” Kristine stiffened, ripping herself out of his arms immediately as Hauer came barreling across the dance floor. “Kris, where the hell have you been? I’ve been looking all over!” He grabbed her arm and began pulling her back across the room. “I want you to meet this guy I work with. Remember, I told you about him—”

Kristine glanced back at Loki, shooting him what he thought was meant to be an apologetic grin. It came off as more of a pained grimace. He frowned.

It wasn’t the place to make a scene. Loki of Asgard, the invader of New York, throwing a fit in Avengers Tower because he wanted to dance with another man’s lover—oh yes, that would go over spectacularly.

Still, he lingered far longer than he ever intended, his gaze following the couple from the corner of his eye. Something about the whole situation didn’t sit right with him. He watched as the man Hauer had been so eager to introduce to her moved on after a few minutes of conversation, and Kristine returned to her dutiful place trailing behind her boyfriend. They left shortly before one in the morning, Hauer’s arm around her waist as they slipped into the elevator.

Kristine met his gaze just as the doors were closing. She smiled softly.

And then they were gone.

He spent the next few days pretending to have forgotten her. He should’ve forgotten her. She was nothing to him—a random mortal who he had just happened to dance with at a party.

And who had a selfish, egotistical boyfriend.

Now that he had been introduced to Michael Hauer, Loki noticed him more often. He worked a lot with Stark, drawing up new designs and overseeing their test runs. From what Loki saw, Hauer was quite intelligent, and well aware of it. He clearly prided himself on his work, as it seemed to be the only topic he ever wanted to discuss.

Loki had found himself lurking around the lab more often, listening in on the discourse that went on between the engineers. His behavior was… odd. Despite many of his coworkers often bringing up their significant others in conversation, Hauer never once mentioned Kristine. Had he not known better, Loki wouldn’t have thought the man was seeing anyone at all. It may have been nothing, of course—perhaps he just didn’t want to discuss his personal life while he was focusing on his work—but Loki couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off about Michael Hauer. His concern for Kristine grew.

It was about a week after the party that he spoke with her again. He went down to the lower floors a few times to scope out the coffeeshop where she worked. It seemed she was always on duty—her crimson curls stood out even when she had them tied back behind her head as she spoke with customers and punched numbers into the cash register.

It was something of a marvel, really; here was this woman who had stuttered and blushed her way through two dances (or a dance and a half, to be more precise), completely calm as she juggled the demands of what had to be hundreds of impatient strangers a day. Was she truly that comfortable with her task, he wondered, or was she simply a better actress than he would have given her credit for?

It was late in the day when he decided to find out.

For once, there wasn’t a line to the counter. Loki sidled up to the cash register and smiled. “Good afternoon, my lady.”

Kristine looked up from her cellular device with a jump. “Oh, hi!” she smiled, but her shoulders remained tense. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you down here.”

“No, you haven’t,” he said. “But ever since his first visit here, my brother has been completely infatuated with this drink of yours. I thought I might give it a try.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s-it’s kind of addicting.” She shifted, pushing a loose strand of hair back behind her ear. He frowned. She still had yet to look him in the eye. “Um, I wanted to tell you… I’m really sorry I dipped so quickly the other night. Michael had told me he wanted to introduce me to his friend, I had just forgotten. I didn’t mean to—”

Loki’s features softened. “I completely understand. No need to apologize,” he said. Kristine’s posture relaxed at his words.

“Really?” she asked.

“Of course. If anything, I should be apologizing to you. After all, I’m the one who stole you away from your party in the first place.”

“Oh no, you’re fine! It was—it was nice. I had fun,” Kristine blushed once again. He smiled wider. Never had he encountered an individual so easily embarrassed by everything she said. It was rather endearing.

She cleared her throat. “So, um, what can I get you?”

Loki glanced at the screen behind her, the various types of drinks laid out in an electric menu he didn’t have the patience to read. “It seems I am in need of your assistance on that front,” he said. “I know nothing of these beverages. What would you recommend?”

“Um,” she shifted, settling into her barista voice. “Well today’s special is the peppermint mocha—it’s kind of the last of the holiday drinks, so—”

“You misunderstand,” he interrupted. “What would you recommend?”

“Oh. You mean—,” Kristine stumbled. “Well… I’m probably the wrong person to ask. I—I don’t really like sugary drinks. I just stick to black coffee most of the time. But that’s just me!” she added hurriedly. “Most people actually prefer—”

“I think I will trust your judgment. After all, I am hardly most people,” he grinned. “I can’t say I enjoy you Midgardians’ obsession with sugar that much myself.”

Her brow furrowed anxiously. “Are you sure? I mean, it’s not that exciting—”

“I’m sure.”

She studied him for a moment, as if attempting to assess his sincerity. Her eyes really were quite piercing. Loki wasn’t sure if he had ever met a mortal with such vibrant blue irises.

“Okay,” she said finally, turning to the cash register. “Small, regular, or large?”

Loki followed her movement, leaning over the counter. “Large,” he said. “Why not? Let’s be dangerous.”

“Well, you are getting the most boring item on the menu, so I don’t know how dangerous you’re being.” Her eyes widened at her own words, clapping her hand over her mouth as her cheeks flushed pink yet again. “I’m sorry, I—”

But Loki was chortling. “My my, now where did that sharp tongue come from?”

Kristine giggled. “Cash or credit?”

She was still smiling when she handed over the warm paper cup. Loki took a whiff of the liquid and winced. “Norns, that is potent.”

“I think it smells nice,” she protested. “I—” Suddenly she stiffened, eyes trained on something over behind him.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder and seeing nothing particularly alarming.

“N-no, no, um—” she looked away quickly, raising her voice. “Is there anything else I can get for you today?”

Frowning, Loki shook his head. “No, I suppose that would be all.”

“Well, have a nice day!” Kristine’s smile was wide and strained. Her message was clear, although Loki couldn’t fathom what had so quickly flipped the switch from playful conversation to such an abrupt dismissal. It was only after he thanked her and made to leave that he found the object of her concern.

Michael Hauer was exiting the stairway, making his way across the room to the coffeeshop. She must have noticed him coming down the stairs.

Still, he was confused. What was so alarming about her boyfriend coming to see her? Was she concerned that he’d see her with another man and get the wrong idea? But surely the brilliant Hauer understood that his girlfriend’s occupation required her to interact with a plethora of different characters every day.

Loki watched as Hauer spoke with her at the counter. He couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but Kristine had become very still. In fact, she didn’t seem to be speaking at all: she just nodded and shook her head as her boyfriend continued. Loki found himself remembering all the things he disliked about Hauer.

After a few minutes, he left without buying anything. As soon as he was gone Kristine ducked into the back room, only to be replaced a short while later by another girl in a matching apron. Loki returned to his room silently, unable to shake the feeling that something was drastically wrong with Michael Hauer.

He began making a point of stopping by the coffeeshop once a day in the late afternoon. Furtive observation taught him that Hauer had a habit of showing up at the counter in the middle of the morning and again shortly after the lunch hour, although the purposes of these visits were still unclear to him. Kristine’s answers were evasive when Loki had attempted to casually broach the subject.

“Oh, you know,” she said, avoiding his gaze. “He just likes to check up on me.”

Despite his concerns about Michael Hauer (or perhaps because of them), Loki and Kristine struck up an odd little friendship. The coffeeshop was never that busy at the times he came by, so usually he’d stick around to talk for a bit. Their conversations were never anything earth-shattering: they’d complain about their lives, reminisce about their past, make fun of the eccentric individuals they’d see shuffling through the food court. Once, when she learned that Loki still had no idea how to use the cellular phone Stark had given him, Kristine insisted upon teaching him.

“So these are your text messages here,” she said, her fingers sliding across the slab of metal. “See the speech bubble? Geez, you have a lot of unread texts.”

Loki watched over her shoulder, doing his best to feign interest. “Now how could you tell that?”

“The number in the red circle in the corner. See that?” Kristine pointed. “That’s how many new notifications you have.”

“What am I being notified of?”

“People have been texting you. You can go in and—” she pressed the text icon “See? Here’s all your messages.” She frowned at the jumble of capitalized letters that greeted her. “It looks like they’re all from Thor.”

Loki yawned. “Is that so? Well then, we know they’re not important.”

She giggled. “Here, let me show you how to text back.”

Sometimes, she’d show him her sketchbook. Kristine really was a talented artist: her penciled sketches of the birds she’d see outside her apartment window looked as though they could almost fly off the page. She drew a lot of people as well. Most were portraits of Hauer, of course, as well as a light-haired, middle-aged woman Kristine identified as her mother, but Loki also recognized some of the Avengers: Tony Stark, Captain Rodgers, even his brother.

“You spent the time to draw Thor and not me?” he cried in mock outrage. “And here I thought we were friends! I must say, I’m quite offended.”

Kristine stifled a giggle. “I’ll draw you next,” she said. “I promise.”

In return, he’d show her bits of his magic. He’d conjure an illusion of a snake on the counter or make his hand glow or turn the sugar jar into a goblet of wine or something equally silly—hardly anything remarkable, but he loved how her eyes would light up at even the simplest of tricks.

“That’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen!” she laughed as she ran her hands through a fading illusion. “That is just so cool!”

He grinned. “You’re easily impressed, my lady.”

“I wish I had magic” Kristine continued. “It would make my life so much easier. Wouldn’t have to drive anywhere, I could just teleport. If I left my phone at home, I could just summon it through a portal or something.” She snapped her fingers. “You know what I’d do? I’d make it snow inside. It’s always so freaking hot in here—we could use some indoor snow.”

“There’s a far simpler solution to that problem, my lady.” He nodded at her shirt. “You should change your wardrobe. It’s far to warm in here for long sleeves.”

Kristine tugged at the collar of her turtleneck uncomfortably. “I guess. But—I’m just used to wearing this, you know? Like, you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, right?” She laughed again, but this time it sounded far emptier. “Besides, it’s not that bad in here. I just always make a big deal out of little things, you know?”

Loki nodded in agreement, but inwardly, he was distressed. He had suddenly realized that in the weeks he had been spending time with Kristine, he had never once known her to bare her arms.

His concerns only grew when one day Kristine came in to work with a blackened eye and a bruise that stretched down her cheek.

“Norns, Kristine, are you alright?” he cried. “What happened?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” she said, speaking so quickly he could barely understand what she was saying. “I just fell down the stairs at my apartment. It was my fault, they’re really steep, I wasn’t paying attention. It looks a lot worse than it is.” She smiled desperately. “One large black coffee?”

“What is your opinion on Michael Hauer?”

Stark looked up from the box of spare parts he was rummaging through in his lab and frowned.

“Hauer?” he asked. “Why do you care?”

Loki glared coldly across the room. “Simple curiosity. Indulge me.”

He smirked. “What’s the magic word?”

“Stark.”

“Fine, geez,” Stark turned back to his work. “Hauer’s a genius. You know that new Quinjet we tried out in Novi Grad? That was his model. I never would have thought to—”

“I understand that he’s intelligent,” Loki interrupted. “But what are your thoughts of his nature?”

“His nature?” Stark shrugged, dumping the contents of the box on his desk. “I don’t know, he’s nice. Fun at parties.”

Loki raised an eyebrow. “That’s all? Hasn’t he been in your employ for years?”

“Hey,” Stark raised his arms in mock surrender. “I focus on the important stuff. You know,” he continued as he picked out pieces from the pile. “You can see for yourself, if you hang around a few minutes. We’re staying late tonight to test out one of his new designs—”

He started. “Hauer’s coming up here?”

“Yeah. If you want to meet him, I can—”

But Loki had already dashed out of the room.

Kristine usually got out of work early in the evening, but he knew that when Hauer stayed late she’d wait for him at the tables across from the coffeeshop. Perhaps this would be the best time to confront her, when she knew her boyfriend would be occupied for the foreseeable future.

He nearly ran into the man on the stairs going down to the food court.

“Watch it!” snapped Hauer as he came barreling up the steps, not even looking up to see who he was snapping at. For a moment, Loki was tempted to remind him, but he held himself back. Now was hardly the time or place.

The dark-haired girl behind the counter wasn’t Kristine, and she visibly stiffened when she saw Loki coming.

“H-how can I help you today, sir?” she stuttered.

“I’d like to speak with Ms. Ververs,” he said. “Is she here at the moment?”

The girl looked surprised. “Kristine?” she asked. “Oh, um, you just missed her. I think she went to the bathroom.”

He nodded. “Ah. Very well. Thank you.”

Loki made his way to one of the tables, resolving to wait for her return. Time passed. Men and women trickled down the stairs and out the door. Outside, the sun began its slow descent beneath the horizon. Kristine still did not return. He had waited nearly forty-five minutes when Loki decided to go looking for her.

The nearest restrooms were empty. He went down the hall to check the others, peeping into the cubicle offices along the way. He couldn’t imagine what she’d be doing in there, but perhaps she had run into a friend and struck up a conversation and lost track of time—he hoped that was what had happened. But she wasn’t anywhere he looked.  

Loki was on the brink of alerting Stark that one of his employees had gone missing so that he could check security footage when he overheard what sounded like muffled sobs coming from a broom closet.

Frowning, he tapped on the door. “Kristine?” He cracked it open and called again. “Kristine, is that you?”

There was a moment of hesitation before the answer came. “Yeah,” she mumbled, sounding completely exhausted. “Yeah, it’s me, Loki.”

He pushed the door all the way open. She was huddled in the corner, hidden behind a mountain of cleaning supplies. Her hair was beginning to slip out of her ponytail, framing her face in wispy strands of unkempt curls. Her eyes were swollen. Loki’s chest ached as he took in her appearance. In the low light, she looked more like a frightened child than a grown woman.

Loki made his way into the closet, stooping to avoid the low ceiling. “What are you doing in here?” he asked gently as he sat down next to her. “What happened?”

“Oh nothing, it’s just—I thought—” she hiccupped. “I just wanted to get away from everything.” She rubbed at her eyes with the corner of her apron.

“Here.” Loki summoned a clean handkerchief to his hand and held it out to her. This time, the magic trick sparked none of the usual wonder in her eyes. She took the cloth with a barely audible thank you.

“What do you mean by everything?” he asked.

Kristine sniffed. “It’s nothing. Really. Michael and I—we just had a little argument. That’s it. It’s nothing.”

“Nothing,” Loki echoed. “And yet you’re hiding in a broom closet.”

“I—it’s just—” she sniffed again, blinking back tears. “He gets mad sometimes.”

She blew her nose into the handkerchief, wincing when she pressed too hard on her bruised cheek. Loki thought of Michael Hauer, fuming on the stairs as he stormed off from the coffeeshop. He thought of how he had dragged Kristine away on the dance floor, how terrified she had been when she saw him coming while speaking with Loki at the counter.

Hesitantly, he gave voice to the suspicion that had been lurking in the back of his mind ever since he first laid eyes on the couple.

“He hurts you,” Loki whispered quietly. “Doesn’t he?”

Kristine looked up with panicked eyes. “You can’t tell anybody!” she cried, trembling. “You won’t, right? You won’t tell anybody?” she grabbed at his shoulders as the tears streamed down her cheeks, her breathing coming in fast spirts. “Please, he’ll get so mad at me if he thought—you won’t tell anybody, will you? Please—”

Loki gently pulled her shaking body into an embrace, trying to soothe her as she hyperventilated. “Kristine, it’s alright—”

She sobbed into his chest. “He’ll get mad, he’ll get mad!”

He hushed her softly, rubbing her back. “If you don’t want me to tell anyone, then I won’t,” he murmured. “Can you breathe in slowly for me now? And now out. Just like that…”

They sat in the dark for a while, Loki whispering quiet nonsense into her ear as her breathing stabilized. People passed by outside, but thankfully no one barged into the broom closet.

“Why do you stay with him?” he asked after several minutes of silence.

Kristine shook her head. “He-he’s done so much for me—”

“He hurts you.” He looked down at her in disbelief. “You don’t owe him anything.”

She inhaled hoarsely. “I didn’t have anything when I came up here. My mom had just died, everything was going wrong, I was so lonely—” she sighed. “I’ve never been good at—at making friends. But he—he was so nice to me… I don’t know what happened.”

She sounded utterly broken. Loki’s arms tightened around her without realizing. “He’s not worthy of you,” he whispered fiercely. “You deserve to be treated like a goddess.”

Kristine laughed humorlessly. “But I can’t just leave him,” she said. “I’d lose my job. He’s literally best friends with Tony Stark, he’d be sure of it. And I wouldn’t have anywhere to go—he owns the apartment.”

“Don’t you have someone you could stay with temporarily?” he asked. “Friends, family? Surely you aren’t entirely dependent on that rat.”

“My parents are both dead,” she whispered. “And I never really got to know anyone out here before I met Michael. After that… I never really hung out with anyone else.”

“You hang out with me,” he reminded her. “I’m sure I could arrange for you to stay somewhere. I’ll tell Stark what kind of person Hauer really is. I’m sure the Avengers would be eager to have him terminated if they knew.” It would take some convincing, but if he got his brother to believe him, Thor could surely convince the others. Perhaps Stark would be unwilling, but Rodgers held just as much authority as the mechanic, and Loki somehow doubted that keeping a known abuser on Avengers payroll would sit well with the Captain’s heavy moral compass.

Kristine was less convinced. “They’d never fire him,” she said bitterly. “Not for me. Michael builds all their world-saving technology. They rely on him. I’m just some random barista. They’ll never sacrifice all that stuff for me. And he knows it.”

Loki frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve called the police on him. Twice. I thought he was going to kill me,” she gulped. “The police got there, and he just talked his way out of it. Told them who he was, who he worked for, and they were like, shaking hands with him!” She sobbed. “They asked me if I wanted to press charges, and it was like, how could I? They were already on his side!”

“What do you do then?” he asked, horrified. “If you’re afraid to call law enforcement, what do you do when he’s attacking you?” Somehow, he already knew the answer.

Kristine shrugged. “Pray. Wait for him to get tired.”

“No.” Loki shifted, digging out the glossy Avengers-sanctioned cellular phone from his pocket. “Here. If you can’t call the police, call me.” The screen lit up the broom closet as he pulled up his number.

She frowned. “What?”

“Take down this number. If you ever feel you’re in danger, I want you to call it. Without hesitation.” Loki looked at her somberly. “I’ll teleport to your location immediately.”

“Are-are you sure?” she asked hesitantly. “Isn’t that number supposed to be, you know, like, top secret?”

“Don’t worry about it. Stark claims it’s untraceable.” He watched as she pulled out her own phone and began typing the number in. “I will get you out of this, Kristine.”

She ran her hands through her red hair. “You really think you can?”

“Yes,” he said. “I swear it.”

Things changed after that. His daily coffee-stops turned into check-ins: asking if she was alright, if Michael had done anything the night before, if he could do anything for her. It seemed that they had reached a period of peace: Michael was so distracted with his latest project with Stark that he didn’t have the time to be violent. Loki feared that it wouldn’t last long though.

Kristine had made him swear that he wouldn’t tell anyone else of her circumstances, so Loki figured that he’d have to get creative with getting Hauer out of Avengers Tower. Framing him as a security threat seemed to be the best option, as security was Stark’s highest priority. Loki set about planning to make it look as if Hauer was stealing SHIELD intel. It was a more difficult task than he anticipated. Leaving too obvious a trail would make Stark suspicious that Hauer was being set up, but too subtle a trail and nobody would even notice that something was wrong. He went back and forth on various plans, all harboring some flaw that could potentially give it all away, before storming out of his quarters one day in frustration.

It really shouldn’t have been so difficult. Loki sat in the food court, cloaked by an illusion, watching Hauer make his way down the stairs for his morning visit to his girlfriend. If he were to trip at the top of the staircase, put the wrong foot in the wrong place at the wrong time and go tumbling to his death, nobody would think anything of it. Oh, what a tragic accident. He was so young. And then they’d move on with their lives.

Yes, Loki thought as Hauer went on his way, it would be so much easier if you would just fall down the stairs.

He didn’t kill him though. It wasn’t out of any love for Michael Hauer—the very thought of the man drove Loki into fantasies of burying a dagger into his chest—but because of Kristine. Loki didn’t tell her about his murderous dreams, but she had her suspicions, and she didn’t like them.

“You wouldn’t do anything to hurt Michael, right?” she asked suddenly one day. “Like, physically?” She looked up at him, eyes wide and anxious. It cut him deeply to see her looking at him like that, as if he was the unpredictable monster she had to fear.

Loki shook his head. “No,” he said. “No, I wouldn’t do anything like that.” He left with his coffee, unable to shake the feeling of shame weighing down his shoulders.

It was late at night when the phone rang. Loki had been sitting on the couch in his quarters, the open book in his lap failing to hold his attention as his mind wandered to more pressing issues, when the ringtone crashed through the silence.

Loki jumped to his feet, clawing at his pocket to find the damn device. As quickly as it began, the room fell quiet. By the time that he had the phone in his hand, the ringing had stopped. Across the screen flashed a message: Missed Call from Kristine Ververs.

He didn’t remember making the decision to teleport to her apartment, only that suddenly he was there, ripping the door open so forcefully that the lock cracked.

Three things greeted him inside the apartment: Hauer, standing only a few feet from the door. Kristine, curled beneath him on the floor, gasping for air. And blood. Lots and lots of blood.

Hauer whipped up, eyes wild. “The fuck are you?”

Loki grabbed him by the collar and flung him into the television set.

Kristine was sobbing. Her bloodied hands clawed at the knife handle buried deep into her abdomen.

Oh Norns, what did he do to her?

“Here, hang on,” Loki knelt beside her in a frenzy, pulling her wrists away. Her shirt was soaked through with red. Helplessly, he pressed against her wound, hoping to staunch the bleeding.

How much blood has she lost already?

Panicked, he glanced around the room. The carpet was stained, a trail leading all the way back to the kitchen area.

“Loki,” she choked. “I didn’t—I tried—”

“Shh,” he hushed. “It’s alright. You are going to be fine.” He needed to get her out of here. He had no medical supplies in here, no healing stones. Gingerly, he scooped her up in his arms, kicking himself when she whimpered in pain. “I’m going to take care of you, alright?” he whispered as he stood. “You’re going to be fine. I swear, you’ll be fine.”

He teleported back to his quarters and laid her on his bed.

Healing stones. Need healing stones.

“Kristine,” he said urgently, bringing her hands to either side of the knife. “I need to you to press down here, okay?” He pushed her hands against her wound. “Just like that, alright?”

Kristine gave a short nod, but her eyes seemed to be staring past him.

“Kristine,” he tapped her cheeks, “Kristine, stay awake!”

She made a nondescript noise and nodded again. With a troubled look, Loki grabbed a healing stone and broke it over her stomach, casting a spell of light to activate it. The dust shimmered as it sank into her skin through her shirt. He pulled the knife out as the wound closed and tossed it aside.

Kristine moaned, her head falling backward on to the pillow as her eyes closed. That was okay. In the handful of times Loki had used healing stones on mortals (usually members of the Avengers), he had learned that their bodies tended to be overwhelmed by the magic and need to sleep it off. It was okay.

He watched her chest rise and fall with each small breath, her crimson curls seeming even more vibrant against the paleness of her skin.

It was okay, right?

Her pulse was steady. Loki took it twice more, just to be certain. Her temperature was normal. Her breathing regular. Everything was fine. He sighed.

Loki cleaned up the blood best he could without disturbing her, then washed off and pulled up a chair. Kristine was still sleeping peacefully. He wondered suddenly what Hauer was going to do. The man was used to getting away with violence, but this went beyond beatings: this was attempted murder. Would he come clean? Or (and the more Loki thought about it the more likely this seemed) would he attempt to pin the blame on him?

“He crashed through the door and kidnapped my girlfriend! I tried to stop him, but he attacked me!”

From an outside perspective, the story might seem believable. After all, most of this world still saw him as the monster who lurked in the shadows, waiting with sharpened claws for the opportune moment to strike. It would be easy for Hauer to paint him as the villain.

Loki considered waking the others and explaining what had happened, before Hauer had a chance to tell his warped version, but he decided to wait until Kristine awoke. It was her life, after all—she should have a say in how things played out. Besides, doing so would require him to leave her by herself for a bit.

He didn’t know what it was, but he didn’t want to leave her alone.

By morning, she still had not awoken. It was a bit concerning—the other times he had used stones on mortals, they had only slept for a few hours. By the end of the day, she still had not stirred and he was convinced that something was wrong. Frantically, he consulted his books, searching for some caveat he had overlooked.

The obvious answer would be that she was having a bad reaction to the healing stones, but such a situation would merit a reaction: racing heartbeat, wild seizures, delirious hallucinations. But Kristine was still. Her vitals were normal, her sleep tranquil. Loki didn’t know what to do.

It wasn’t until he found a footnote in his old healer’s textbook that he realized what was happening.

Note that the potency of healing stones can be affected by the mental wellbeing of the patient. An individual who has suffered under extreme stress for an extended period of time may have a longer recovery period than one who has not.

“Oh, dear,” Loki murmured. He closed the book slowly. “Extreme stress for an extended period of time”—that practically described Kristine’s entire existence. She was going to be out for a while.

He looked at her on the bed, eyes closed, breath soft. He had never known Kristine to look so at peace. Perhaps a long, deep sleep was just what she needed. He patted her knuckles gently.

“You’re safe here, my lady,” he whispered.

The next day, when no one had crashed into his quarters accusing him of kidnapping, he thought that perhaps he better find out what was going on. He slunk into the common room, hoping to overhear some tidbit of information. Of course, Thor was never one to appreciate his desires for stealth.

“Brother!” he cried when he noticed him, patting him on the back. “Where have you been? Have you heard the news?”

Loki stiffened. “News?”

“Michael Hauer’s lady has gone missing! You remember her, don’t you? You danced with her at Stark’s last party.”

“Yes,” Loki frowned. Thor didn’t seem to have any idea of his involvement. “What do you mean ‘missing’? Has she been abducted?”

“We don’t know,” Thor said, shaking his head ruefully. “She and Hauer had a fight the night before last, and she stormed out. Hauer only saw yesterday morning that she never returned.”

“Oh.” Loki stared for a moment, shellshocked. Hauer had made up a story that didn’t include him in it. Why would he cut out his easiest option for a scapegoat? “Well,” he said cautiously, “I assume every effort is being made to retrieve the young lady.”

“Oh, yes. Stark plans to help the police, to make certain she’s found safely,” Thor sighed. “Poor Hauer. I can’t imagine what he’s going through right now.”

Loki shook his head. “No, neither can I.”

It was an interesting tale that Hauer had concocted. Loki watched it play out over the next few weeks as he watched over Kristine. Listening to the piece of filth pretend to weep over the woman who he had beaten and abused and buried a blade into made his blood boil, but Loki put up with it in an attempt to understand what Hauer was trying to accomplish. Shockingly, he continued to stick to his story: he and Kristine had a fight at around ten, she got angry and stormed out, and when he woke up the next morning he realized she hadn’t come back.

At first, Loki thought he was simply trying to cover up his violent history. But it didn’t make any sense: he had the perfect opportunity to solidify his innocence by throwing the blame on to Loki, and yet he continued to dig himself into a hole by claiming Kristine left on her own—something security cameras proved never happened.

It was only when he stopped to consider that Hauer had to have taken the time to clean the apartment, wash away the traces of blood and fix the lock and right the television set, that Loki began to examine an alternative explanation. Did… did Hauer even know what happened that night? Loki hadn’t exactly checked his force when he threw him across the room. It was possible that he didn’t even remember Loki showing up, didn’t remember what happened to Kristine… and woke up in an apartment full of blood…

Oh my, Loki thought as he watched Hauer stumble through an interview on television. He thinks he killed her.

The revelation and thought of the stress it must have been causing him gave Loki great joy, but watching the world fall for Hauer’s story hook, line, and sinker was frustrating beyond words. As the Avengers showered him with pity, not even bothering to question the shakiness of his ridiculous story, Loki thought of Kristine’s words in the broom closet, her steadfast belief that nobody cared enough about her to turn on her boyfriend.

Then the narrative flipped.

Loki remembered Kristine telling him about those two phone calls, but nothing could have prepared him for actually listening to them.

“Can you please just send someone?” her voice was shaking, barely holding together as she breathed into the phone, “He’s really mad, I think he’s going to break down the door. Please, is someone coming?”

Loki wasn’t sure what hurt him more, hearing her whisper through such unadulterated fear, or knowing that when the someone did arrive, they did nothing to help her.

The public had turned on Michael Hauer. The police found traces of blood in his apartment. Stark fired him. Descriptions of the missing knife plastered the news. Demands for an arrest flooded the Internet. The search for a body kicked into full gear. And then Loki had an idea that could put the nail in his coffin.

He left the knife where it was sure to be noticed by someone, just sitting atop the dumpster behind their apartment building. Sure enough, it was found within hours.

Four days later, Michael Hauer was arrested and charged with the murder of Kristine Ververs.

That same day, Kristine woke up. He had become so used to her stillness that he nearly jumped out of his skin when she groaned.

He knelt next to the bed. “Kristine?”

She stretched, blinking her cerulean eyes. “L-Loki? What—where are we?”

“My quarters in Avengers Tower,” he smiled wryly. “You’ve had a bit of a nap.”

Kristine shot up as if she was struck by lightning. “Michael! Oh my God, he—” her hands flew to her stomach, where the knife had gone in. “What—how—did he—”

Loki hushed her. “It’s alright. You’re safe. He can’t hurt you,” he said, taking her hands in his and giving them a reassuring squeeze. “I have much to tell you…”

[cas-rivaille]

Hello! Can I get a matchup for jujutsu kaisen please?

Appearance : 5'4 ace/heteromantic girl ambivert.Dark brown hair/eyes (I wear glasses but they are also sun glasses because bright lights give me a headache) a little chubby/muscled and pale skin+permanent smirk/smile/ neutral face. Plump lips. My style varies a lot (always comfy) but I never wear dresses heels/makeup. I love to imagine outfits with symbols from fandoms or my own drawings so I have a rather unique style (most of the time I wear a NASA jacket and leather boots/sneakers, I also love sleeveless turtleneck) who changes a lot. I have malleable cheeks and tiny hands/fingers/wrist.

MBTI: INTP-T and chaotic neutral/good

Zodiac: Gemini sun, Taurus rising, libra moon

Enneagram : My dominant is type 5 then 8. Quizzes says that I am a 5w6 or 8w7

Personality : .Sarcastic,a little naive but I have a backbone (don't bother flirting with me and if you feel that I am flirting with you which happens a lot then it's just my personality and on the rare occasion I notice they have to confess or I won't believe it) ,calculative,protective,creative,expressive,manipulative,a devil's advocate,prideful,charismatic, smartass, bookworm, daydreamer, a little insensitive/blunt because I'm more on the logical side ,vengeful, mischievous, a huge tease, open minded, very curious, gets annoyed easily, impatient (unless it's in drawing because I am a perfectionist there) so kind of a bad temper, observant but not romantically,sadistic to a point but my conscience prevents me from doing these acts. Indifferent to many things, morally...unique as my moral compass is on the neutral side I don't believe in absolute evil/good.

With my friends I am either laughing, goofing around or annoyed. I love to give bad puns or cursed ideas who are gore/weird and saying I know y all love me. Those who don't talk to me see me as a nerd aggressive smart and blunt person ( even prideful) and strangers as polite and kind. I notice a lot of details because I don't let my guard down even if I daydream plus I have a photographic + sound memory and they work very well in all situations which can be a bother when I try to concentrate which is difficult for me because I get distracted easily. Also I have very weird reflexes so...anyone who approaches me by surprise gets hit, any sudden movement and I already have my leg/arm going their way which got me into a lot of trouble.

Dislikes: I fight for my beliefs. I have trust issues so I never talk about my problems and will use humor when confronted. Bright lights. Cooking. Slow things or people. When I get teased in a mean way (otherwise I actually like being teased it's a fun fight after). People who change side easily and hypocrites. Overly serious people. I tend to be aggressive and expose an annoyed face easily (I am moody), plus I hate orders and love pressing buttons it's funny(in a fun way rarely in a mean one) unless it's a sensitive subject. When I feel that I am unwanted or someone insults me or take me for granted I become very cold and distance myself and the relationship becomes strained the more they take time to ask for forgiveness, something I might give but will never forget.

Likes: I love cats/laughter/sweets/pranks/dark humour/ a true crime and Supernatural enthusiast and I love science especially concerning space, chemistry, robotic and psychology. Books, sleep, drawing and video games too. Cherries. Sushi.Oh and debates I love them. Surprises too I hate routine and runs away from it. I like making character analysis which I often get right but never show to the people around me because I know they will trust me less.

Hobbits : Reading, getting lost in a book, drawing, learning, debating, daydreaming, sports (I practice karate and shooting), art (piano/drawing/writing especially poetry) and video games

I have some bad habits like biting my nails (I just got rid of it by painting them black)/lips and moving my leg up and down because I am always nervous, disorganized room/sleep and eating schedule plus I am lazy. Also I might try to hide it but I am very competitive and a sore loser

Fun fact : I dream a lot and write my dreams. I don't mind nightmares on the contrary I welcome them because I find them to be a nice experience and they give me ideas plus the amount of emotions you can feel is amazing. I also tend to curse while talking.

I rarely get motivated but when I do I give a very good work and put my soul in it, if I don't reach my goal I feel down for a while and become very snappy.

I am a lazy student (hell if I don't feel like writting I don't especially exercises that I understood) but also at top of my class so none says anything (i can befriend people easily if I want to, teachers included). My projects are often done last minute or just improvisation but I get a good mark at them which means that yes sometimes I can become arrogant and I don't really know what it feels like to study really hard and fail sorry. But I know it will bite me later. I often argue my way out of a situation with anyone : I know the exercise why should I write it? If I told you the answer then I know how I got it and you know it too no need for me to write the correction. Mum the brain is a muscle too so I am in fact exercising.

When dealing with an emotional person I don't know what to do I will try to give them words to keep going, it succeed but I am rather harsh plus I try to make jokes to cheer them up.But if a friend breaks down before me I will do my best to cheer them up (ahem jokes and reminding them of all the success they achieved) and if I am comfortable and they want a hug I will give it. I hate people who denies that others helped them.

My love language is gifts, quality time, a little act of service and affection in private if comfortable. I also love to send memes saying it reminds me of us/you and holding pinkies.

Please can you not consider geto,mahito, nanami, todo and junpei as matchups I am uncomfortable with them.

I am stubborn, moody (one day I can be really cold/snappy to the person because I am in a bad mood but I apologize after) and can be perceived as unloving even if it's not the case, well sometimes but I usually love affection despite me never saying affectionate things.

Thank you very much for your time! 😋

AHHH THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST !! this is my first jjk one i hope you like it !!

i won't be answering it in order lol i do it on memory then go back to make sure i got everything i hope that's okay !!

as for your matchup.... ITADORI

so a lot influenced my decision on this, first thing being

your mood, you said repeatedly how you can get moody and we all know itadori our precious bby is a ball of sunshine and very easy going. he would totally understand me give you space if you needed it and just try his best to help you feel better if something is bothering you :)

he would LOVE to link pinkies with you and spend quality time with you

our baby is a resident ISFP so you two def have similar aspects

he would love your pressing buttons/hating orders part of your personality bc i feel like it would lead to several clashes between you and some of the teachers and he would think that's SO FUNNY OMG

he also loves your sense of humor and there is never a dull moment between you two

if you were comfy with it, he would love to hear about your dreams because he thinks it's so cool that you write them down

please let him paint your nails he would love it

he would send you memes too x10 this boy has endless memes in his phone, you're guaranteed a laugh when you text him.

he would totally appreciate your way of cheering people up because it's exactly what he needs

you best invite this boy to anything karate related because he thinks it's SO COOL i mean we all know he has natural abilities but putting it into a martial arts form is s o amazing to him and he really admires you

don't be surprised if he asks you to draw him

IF YOU LEAVE HIM POETRY OR A LOVE NOTE HE WILL MELT ON SPOT. GONE. ASCENDED. EVAPORATED.

he loves your style and think you look so badass

i totally hc itadori somewhere on the ace spectrum, probably demi

dates??:

VIDEO GAME DATES

going and getting sushi together in the middle of the night low key just sneaking out

ARCADES

nights in watching crime shows or supernatural he absolutely LOVES occult stuff as we know he would probably make the two of you try a ouija board

COOKING DATES you two would make dinner for the first years and gojo every now and then and all the praises go to your cooking it's so good

all in all, itadori is the calm to your storm, you two mesh together very well and he loves you with his whole heart

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED ANYTHING HAVE A GOOD MORNING/DAY/EVENING/NIGHT !!

- cas :)

[its-rockin-pete]

(Very) Expanded Drabble Pt. 1

Small Forewarning/Side note: I changed the timeline a little bit (referring to visiting day)

Enjoy the read! Feedback, opinions and constructive criticism is always very welcome.

Chapter 1

The cold air wraps around my body and seeps through my jacket, making my skin tingle like I’m not wearing one at all. I sit on the roof’s raised concrete ledge and look down through the hole in the roof above the compound- it’s so dark that I can barely see the net below. Well, you generally can never see the bottom from this high up anyway- It’s only really visible on bright sunny days, which are rare.

All of a sudden, I feel someone shove my shoulder- not with enough force to throw me over the edge, but definitely enough to scare me. I gasp like it’s the last breath I’ll ever take and plant my hands on the concrete ledge before whipping my head around to see who it was.

“What the hell?!”

Peter looks back at me with a dumb conceited grin and chuckles.

“Just testing your reflexes. Look alive, Aria, you’re a Dauntless now.”

He swings his legs over the ledge to sit next to me, leaving about five inches between the both of us.

“Why are you here? Did you need a little five-minute break from harassing people or something?”

He turns his head to look at me, his lips curved into a pout and his nose scrunched ever so slightly.

“No…” he pauses “I needed ten minutes.”

I suppress a chuckle while I sway my feet over the open-air beneath me and shake my head.

“You’re such an asshole.”

“I know,” he shrugs and looks down at the roof below.

“What are you doing here? It’s freezing, and you think that skimpy little jacket is going to do you any good?”

I look over at him and pause before responding; I’m trying to decide whether or not I trust him enough to tell him why I’m actually up here. He doesn’t exactly have the best reputation.

“I’m just thinking… And yes, I’m aware that this jacket is doing next to nothing for me, but I didn’t know that it was this cold outside.”

Upon looking over at Peter, I notice that he’s wearing a heavy, but form-fitting fleece quarter-zip jacket; what I’d give to be bundled up in that thing right now.

“Thinking about what? The fact that it’s early November and you’re wearing that?” He draws his brows together and pulls one corner of his mouth down in a sort of half-frown half-smirk type expression.

“Funny…” I pause for a second, “I’m thinking about home, and how I’m the only Amity transfer that’s made it this far.”

“I have to admit, it is shocking. Amity don’t belong in Dauntless, but here you are. I honestly didn't even think you’d make it off the train on the first day. I’m impressed.”

“Hey!” I smack his shoulder, the impact making my cold fingertips sting a little bit.

“What? I’m just being honest, You guys are so weak and over-emotional about everything. Dauntless destroys people like you. Why did you even transfer anyways?”

I’m silent for a while. Why did I choose Dauntless? Well, the three main principles of my last faction definitely had something to do with it.

 One: Opinions of others cannot damage you. 

Two: the wrong is past. You must let it rest where it lies.

And three: You have to avoid cruel thoughts. Cruel thoughts lead to cruel words and hurt you as much as they hurt their target. 

I followed those concepts pretty closely for the most part, but the one thing that I always struggled with the most was leaving the past behind. I could never live in the present, I was always either stuck in the past or far in the future; Hell, I’m still like that today.

And the whole “avoiding cruel thoughts” thing- I only ever have cruel thoughts regarding people who deserve to be put in their place- those who do wrong to others out of spite; people like Peter.  Nonetheless, they’re “cruel thoughts”, and they are not welcome with Amity. I do believe that sometimes, the best way to solve problems is with a level head and a kind manner, but it isn’t easy to do.

“I wanted to be able to be assertive and to defend myself as well as the rest of the factions. Kindness isn’t always the way to go. Sometimes you really gotta grab life by the nuts and remind it that it’s your bitch.”

Peter nods at first and lets a couple seconds of silence pass by before suddenly staring at me with wide-eyes like he can’t believe that those words had just come from my mouth.

“Wait, what?”

I have to laugh- his face was priceless. “Why do you look so surprised?”

“Why do I look surprised?! Do you even know what you just said? You of all people? Little miss soft-spoken, “Please and thank you”, never not sorry, well-mannered pushover?”

That long strand of words came across as an insult- my cheeks that were freezing cold now slowly began to warm up as a blush of frustration crept into my face.

“I am not a pushover… And what’s wrong with having manners?”

He chuckles and looks up at the skyline, “So sensitive… I rest my case.”

“Stop, I’m not as weak as you think I am…”

“Well obviously because you’re about to make it to the second stage of training- well, barely… Man, watching you get tossed around like a rag-doll the first time you fought was pathetic. But let’s face it- you won’t make it far with the fear sims. You’re so fragile that someone could accidentally look at you the wrong way and make you cry.”

His last statement is even more embarrassing for me because I’m actually on the verge of tears. My throat feels tight, and my cheeks are clammy from the cold air mingling with the heat of my blushing face.

“Well, at least I know how to express my emotions. At least I allow myself to feel human instead of making people fear me just because I don’t want them to know that I’m the one who’s afraid of myself.” I growl, my feet now idle.

His malicious smile quickly disappears as if I had flipped a switch.

If I learned one thing from Amity, it’s was how to read people like books.

He looks at me with narrowed eyes that radiate pure resentment and hostility, and I wait for him to throw some type of deep-cutting, vulgar insult at me, but nothing happens for several seconds. His lips are slightly parted like he wants to rip me to shreds with his words, but nothing comes out.

Then it hit me. I had just shut him down. I hit his weak spot.

“And you know what?” I continue even though I know that I’ve done enough damage already. Deep down, the Amity still inside of me feels bad about it, but at the same time, the Dauntless in me is telling me to show no mercy. “Hiding yourself behind a vicious front is the most cowardice thing anybody can do. How can you even call yourself Dauntless?”

His face is now a prominent rosy hue; not even the cold night air can mask his current state of humiliation.

“You better watch yourself, Doormat…” His clear warning rumbles from his chest; usually, that tone of voice would make my hair stand on end, but I’m in rare form tonight.

I have no control over my words at this point: “Or what? You’ll throw me off this ledge and further prove my point that you’re nothing but a coward?”

Before I could even blink, he had yanked me backward by the collar of my jacket and quickly turned around, getting to his feet to stand over me as soon as I hit the ground. He leans down and grabs me; my jacket bunched in his fist that is now pressed firmly against my throat, he draws his other arm back, ready to knock me out in one hit.

I wince and turn my head to the side, instantly regretting ever saying those things. I knew something like this would happen.

But now seconds pass, and I am not unconscious- I slowly open my eyes that were previously shut so tightly that nets of creases formed at the corners of them, and looked up at him.

The fist that held me was still clenched tightly but was now shaking. His arm was still drawn back, ready to swing, but he didn’t move. Everything about his facial expression still threatened my consciousness; everything except his eyes. Tears now shone in his eyes. I am no longer afraid- I am sorry. The Amity inside of me is surfacing again.

His chest dramatically rises and falls a couple more times before he sighs as if the breath had been trapped in his lungs for days, and releases me from his grip.

My head hits the bed of tiny stones blanketed across the rooftop, and my tense muscles unravel. I can breathe again.

By the time I sit up, Peter is already on his way back towards the ledge. I imagine him hitting the net wanting nothing more than to be alone. I study him as he walks; his footsteps are heavy, and he looks defeated.

Defeated by a ‘Doormat’.

Go figure that one out.

Now I am left to think about what had just happened. Should I be afraid? Should I be proud? Maybe This is what Peter really needed but never wanted to hear. I won’t know until the next time I talk to him, which very well could be never again.

Time will tell, I guess

Chapter 2

When I went to bed, he was nowhere to be seen, and by the time I woke up, he was already gone. I kind of expected that to happen. I stretch my arms and straighten my spine, letting out a low moan as I feel my muscles wake up. Looking around, I notice that I am one of the first people awake; I’m rising with the regular early-birds today, which is strange considering that I usually sleep as late as I possibly can without having to rush to get to training. I technically could go back to sleep if I wanted to, but I feel plenty rested and don’t see it necessary.

As soon as I am dressed and ready to go, I head upstairs to go hang out in the pit until it’s time to grab some breakfast. On my way down the hall, I can already see a few Dauntless-born boys rough-housing, and a few groups of people just chatting in the pit. Watching the kids play makes me miss being that young. I remember going out and tending my own little garden with my mother, her teaching me little tips and tricks on how to care for certain plants along the way. Then I remember how much I miss my mother.

My thoughts are ripped from my mind as someone grabs my arm, pulls me further back into the hallway, and pins me to the wall by my shoulders.

It's exactly who I expected it to be.

Peter.

I’m not sure if I should be frightened or not, but I definitely feel it. I look back at him wide-eyed, my lips slightly parted.

“Don’t you dare tell anybody about our conversation last night. If you do, I swear on my life, you’ll regret it. Got it?”

Of course. He’s threatening me out of fear.

“Oh, will you really?” I instantly realize my mistake- I’ve just challenged him.

“I suggest you watch your mouth before you end up in some trouble that you can’t get yourself out of.”

I should take that comment seriously considering his past “incidents” with other initiates, but I don’t. Without a second’s notice, I knee him just above his groin and shove him back by his shoulders. Before I can pin him to the opposite wall, he elbows me in the chest, only distancing me a few steps back. When he comes towards me again, I dodge a punch that's intended to hit my face but ends up hitting my shoulder instead.

I sharply exhale to keep myself from yelping in pain- even after his fist leaves my shoulder, I can still feel each of his sharp knuckles buried in my muscle, but I don’t let it stop me.

He goes to hit me in the stomach, but before he can, I kick his forearm away and push his chest with enough force to make his back hit the wall. Then I pin him; One arm folded against his chest with my elbow digging into him just beneath his armpit, and the other holding one of his shoulders to the wall.

“Calm down.” I hiss

“Yeah?” he breathes “Or what?”

I immediately knee him in the stomach, causing him to scream as he becomes winded.

“That's what,” I say that even though I know that what I did was just a cheap-shot. When it comes to real, gritty, competitive combat, I know I am no match for Peter. When we first fought in the ring, he had me on the ground bleeding before I even knew what was happening.

“Now, come with me. Keep up the bullshit and I’ll hit you where it really hurts.”

I grab hold of his right arm and grip it as tightly as I can, pulling him along with me down the hallway.

We continue walking, turning down hallways that I am unfamiliar with in hopes of finding a private place. I eventually find a corridor far beyond where I have ever ventured and stop halfway down, releasing a deep sigh before letting go of his arm.

“What is wrong with you?”

He tilts his head and scowls at me, clearly annoyed. “You brought me all the way down here to ask me a stupid question like that?”

“No, I came here to try and help you,” I growl back 

He huffs as if he's trying to hold back laughter and rolls his eyes at me, “I don’t need your help. I don’t need anybody’s help. Now leave me alone.”

He starts to turn and walk away but I grab his sleeve and tug him back before he can get far.

“You’re not going anywhere until you talk, and if you think I’m kidding, you’re wrong.”

He yanks his arm away from me and looks like he’s just about ready to knock me on my ass.

“You want me to talk? Alright, read my lips;  Fuck off.” He pauses, “You had no business opening your stupid little mouth last night.”

“And neither did you.” I snap back at him.

He looks away from me and lours, kicking a pebble to the side with his boot.

The silence makes me grimace- It is much too bitter for my liking. “I’m sorry, okay? Is that what you want to hear?”

“Don’t apologize if you don’t mean it. You meant everything you said yesterday.”

“Because I know it's true. You don’t need to hide yourself from me, you know. It's okay…”

He looks up at me, still seemingly upset, but I can tell that now, most of his anger comes from fear.

“And why should I trust you?”

“Because if I was someone who couldn’t be trusted, I wouldn’t’ve dragged you all the way here to talk in private.”

He tightly presses his lips together and furrows his brows at me. I’m not really sure what to expect at this point.

“Why do you care?”

I wasn’t really sure of an answer myself.

“Stop trying to change the subject.”

He shakes his head and looks down, “This is ridiculous. I’m not gonna be held here by some nosy bleeding-heart who wants to know my life story for whatever reason.”

This time when he goes to walk away, I let him. I realize that I shouldn't be forcing him to open up, and I feel horrible about it.

“Maybe you should focus on your own problems before worrying about mine,” He adds; He had already turned the corner and was out of my sight, but his voice was still clear as day.

My own problems?

Maybe he can read people just as well as I can.

Chapter 3

I stare at the ceiling, thinking about what Peter had said to me. He was right- I’d been ignoring my problems since training started. My mother, and how she fought me over my decision to transfer; how cold we were towards each other up until the Choosing Ceremony. 

I begin to wonder if she’ll show up on visiting day. I doubt she will, but then again, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe she’s come to her senses and realized how selfish and harsh she was being.

Maybe.

My stomach twists into a knot and it feels like my throat is being tangled in barbed wire as I remember my mother’s face when I told her I was leaving. I remember the tense silence that was strung between us whenever we were in the same room and how it made me feel sick.

I wonder maybe if I had told her that I was transferring to a different faction if she would’ve reacted differently. A faction that I could, in her terms, “handle”, like Abnegation or something.

I can’t sleep despite the fact that my limbs are heavy and my muscles are exhausted.

I sit up and swivel my legs over the edge of my bed to slip my sneakers on. I slowly stand, trying my absolute hardest not to make any noise, but I still find myself wincing at every little creak my mattress makes as I lift my weight from it.

When I get up the stairs, I try to make my steps light as possible as I walk down the hallway. I have no idea where I'm going, but at least I won't be stuck in that dorm.

I decide to walk down to the net- maybe I’d be able to see the stars as clearly as I was able to back home. 

╳╳╳

When I arrive, before I even get to the stairs leading to the platform, I’m shocked to see somebody else lying in the net, staring at the sky. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one with the idea. It was a boy- broad shoulders, long legs, and a muscular build. The hair gave it away- it was Albert.

“Want some company?”

I must’ve startled him, judging by the way he suddenly lifted his head at the sound of my voice.

“Oh- uh… Sure, I guess…”

As soon as I get to the top of the platform, I pull the edge of the net down towards me and hoist myself into the net- I end up rolling down into the center of the net next to Al, causing us to be uncomfortably close to each other, our bodies pressed close together.

I nervously chuckle and rest the arm pressed against his over my stomach in an attempt to make things at least a little less awkward, but I don’t think it works.

He keeps his gaze towards the sky and stays silent for a while, and so do I. I can't help but wonder what he’s thinking about. As I lay next to him, I can still hear his sobs from his past sleepless nights in my head- it hurts me to know that such a kind-hearted person could be in so much pain.

“You okay?” I make sure that my tone is as gentle as it can possibly be.

He’s silent for a while before responding, “Yeah… I’m alright.”

I turn my head to look at him with my brows taut and my eyes worried, waiting for him to look back at me. When our eyes meet, I study his expression before speaking; his dark brown eyes are focused on mine, but they aren't the same eyes that I see during the day- they look tired and absent. From his eyes alone, I can tell how deeply dejected he’s feeling.

“It’s okay to not be okay, you know…” to me, it sounded like I was trying to tell myself that it was okay, but as soon as I saw Al’s expression become even more despondent as he looked away from me, I knew that he needed to hear those words more than I did.

“Not in Dauntless… ” His voice trembled and he took a deep sigh before continuing, “I should have never come here. I did it for my parents, and I regret it. I should’ve done what my gut was telling me to do.”

I can tell that he’s crying now by the way his voice quivered when he spoke. His situation reminded me of my own, except I actually did what my gut was telling me. And I’m glad I did.

I let him continue.

“I can’t face my parents on visiting day. I can’t. They’ll see how weak I still am- they’ll be so disappointed in me…”

I sit up and grab hold of his hand as I catch the gleam of tears running down his cheek, “Don’t say that. You’re not weak, you are human. You are far from a disappointment, Albert, I promise you that…”

He sits up as well- seeing Al cry is much more painful than just hearing his sobs while lying in the dark. I feel heat build behind my own eyes, and my vision becomes clouded with tears. Before my tears even get the chance to become noticeable to Al, I pull him close to my body and hold him tightly. 

No, I don’t know Al very well, but I have observed him throughout the past few weeks and taken note of his apparent personality traits. Another Amity habit. I realized that he and I are very similar- I might even say that I’ve formed a personal connection with him without even speaking with him much.

Again, very Amity of me.

“I’m sorry…” Al sobs into my shoulder. I rub his back and press my forehead against his shoulder, hoping it’ll help calm him at least a little bit.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” My voice is soft, just as it used to be when I lived with Amity.

Minutes pass, and we are still holding one another; I don’t mind though. Once Albert somewhat composes himself, he pulls back from me and looks into my eyes. His lip trembles as he gives me a broken but appreciative smile. My heart that felt broken seconds ago now feels warm and whole.

“Thanks… I needed this.”

I smile back at him and nod, “I’m always here if you ever need me… You’re gonna be okay, and I’ll make sure of it… Remember that you are stronger than you think you are, Okay? We can do this together.”

He nods and then pulls me close once again, and this time, his embrace sends a wave of relief over me.

“We should get to bed. We have a big day ahead of us.” I pat his back a couple times before pulling away and smiling at him. A new bond has been formed

[lainelannister]

That time when Laine wrote a ASOIAF/The Handmaid’s Tale crossover fic...

...yeah, that’s right. I binged-watched the first part of Season 3 of “The Handmaid’s Tale”...and then I wrote a weird-ass one-shot with Sansa as a Handmaid, Jaime as her Commander, and Cersei as his wife. 

I...don’t have any excuses for whatever this is.

The mattress is too soft.

It’s funny, the foolish and meaningless thoughts that traipse through our minds in times of stress and peril. And yet, Sansa (Ofjaime- the very thought of her new moniker makes her twist her lips and wrinkle her nose, just as she used to when she bent to scoop up a particularly rank pile of Lady’s droppings during their daily walks) takes some sort of perverse comfort from this silent critique. They have plenty of money...I’m sure a Tempurpedic mattress wouldn’t be out of reach...maybe even one of those memory-foam hybrids…

But there’s nothing for her to do now but lie still and allow her body to sink deeper and deeper into this miserable, squishy, pillow-top nightmare. Her head and shoulders rest on Mrs. Lannister’s lap, and she’s surprised to catch a whiff of fragrance- women in Gilead aren’t supposed to wear perfumes, not even Commanders’ wives. And yet, there it is, clinging to Cersei Lannister’s pristine teal dress: lemons, rosewater, something else, something herbaceous and alluring...bergamot, maybe? Sansa tries to rack her brain for the answer, recalling the months she spent working at that artisanal candle shop in downtown Portland during high school…

It’s warm in the Commander’s bedroom, so she’s relieved to feel a sudden breath of fresh air gusting in from the picture window beside the bed (relieved, but also suddenly vulnerable...the breeze ripples the hem of her skirt where it hikes up her calves, and she’s reminded once again that she isn’t wearing underwear).

After opening the window, Commander Lannister pivots toward the bed, his gaze settling somewhere in the vicinity of the two women resting there. He isn’t looking at her, not really, so Sansa takes the opportunity to study his face. A flood of shame crashes upon her as she remembers her initial response to her assignment. She’d seen young Handmaid after young Handmaid parceled off to elderly Commanders with loose jowls and rotund bellies straining the buttons of their dress shirts...but although Commander Lannister is easily old enough to be her father, he’s still lean and well-muscled and handsome, with thick golden hair and electric green eyes…

...the glorious hair and eyes that he somehow shares with his wife. They’re uncannily similar, Commander and Mrs. Lannister, as though carved by the same craftsman from the same flawless slab of marble. A sudden and absurd memory rushes into her headspace- Mya, Myranda, and herself in Myranda’s dad’s old station wagon, driving through the back roads of Eyrie, Maine, having a lively conversation about “dopplebangers”.

“It’s a thing! You know, when you only have sex with people who look like you,” Myranda had insisted. But then, Mya offered a counterpoint:

“No, they don’t have to look like you...but if you’re a dopplebanger, then you only fuck people who look like each other. It’s just having a type...a really, really specific type.”

The girls then retreated to their iPhones, seeking out a resolution on Urban Dictionary, then dropping the subject entirely when a group text about Jeyne Poole’s hookup with Theon Greyjoy took immediate precedence.

The weight of wistfulness settles in Sansa’s stomach, and she indulges herself in a moment of useless contemplation, wondering where Myranda and Mya are now. Myranda’s family had influence before the world turned on end, and Sansa thinks she heard somewhere that at least one of Randa’s brothers became a Commander...Randa’s probably someone’s wife. If she were a Handmaid, I’d know it by now.

As for Mya...Sansa recalls her spirited friend’s defiant attitude, her absolute rejection of authority, even in the days before the rise of Gilead. Maybe a Jezebel...maybe even a prisoner in the Colonies...

She suddenly and desperately wants to cry...but tears during the ceremony are expressly forbidden, and she’d rather not receive a lashing from the Aunts, not when the last one left those ugly raised scars all over her back.

She’s been with the Lannisters for almost three months now, and they’ve undergone a small handful of ceremonies during that time. Handmaids aren’t permitted to discuss their ceremonies with each other- if an Aunt should overhear, the consequences would be dire- but Sansa’s heard enough whispers, gathered enough illicit intel to understand the unusual nature of her own experiences. True, Commanders rarely interact with their Handmaids during the ceremony, beyond the obviously-necessary points of contact-

-but wives don’t typically involve themselves directly, either. The Wife holds the Handmaid’s head and supports her husband’s efforts with prayer...but she doesn’t generally reach out to touch her husband’s face and comb his hair back behind his ears. She doesn’t typically lean over the Handmaid’s prone body to kiss her husband on the mouth and massage his tongue with her own. And she certainly doesn’t usually reach for her husband’s waistband and slide her hand within to stroke him slowly, purposefully, rhythmically.

Commander Lannister takes some time to rise to the occasion- it had been so since their first ceremony, and Sansa accepts it as an unavoidable reality. But as he angles his body over Sansa’s to bring himself closer to his wife, as Mrs. Lannister’s hand speeds its progress and he roughly hisses her name into her perfectly-shaped mouth, Sansa forces herself to focus on the enormous clock affixed to the opposite wall, watching second after second tick away, hoping that they’ll speed this along already-

The tactile contrast of cool fingertips sliding under her bonnet snaps Sansa back to attention. Mrs. Lannister’s elegant, clever digits unfasten the ties to the ridiculous white cap and toss it to the floor before tearing at the hair net underneath. Sansa carefully braids her hair each day and wraps the plaits around her head, securing them with bobby pins- that’s the only way she can fit her voluminous tresses into the confines of the bonnet. But Mrs. Lannister deftly removes the pins and weaves her fingers through Sansa’s thick red hair, sweeping and pulling and separating until loose russet locks fall over Sansa’s neck and shoulders.

“She has beautiful hair,” Mrs. Lannister whispers. And for the first time all evening, Commander Lannister looks at Sansa- actually looks at her.

“Yes,” he agrees. “Beautiful.”

A prickle of discomfort creeps beneath Sansa’s skin, laying claim to her stomach and her chest and her brain and even the space between her legs. She wants to scream herself hoarse, to demand that the Commander and his exquisite, mercurial wife just cut the bullshit, to insist that they get this travesty over with and allow her to go back to her room and soak in her clawfoot tub and pound the flagon of cheap whiskey she’d convinced Guardian Clegane to smuggle in for her a few weeks earlier.

When Commander Lannister finally gets hard enough to penetrate her, she’s overwhelmed by a bizarre wave of relief that nearly distracts her from the cold chill of violation that always accompanies this activity. He’s rearranged them all so that he’s standing at the side of the bed, Sansa’s legs hooked around his hips, putting as little distance as possible between himself and his wife as Mrs. Lannister’s arms lock around his neck, her lips binding to his in an impossible symmetry.

I shouldn’t be here, her inner voice wails- but the stupid obvious nature of that thought only heightens her queasiness. Commander Lannister quickens the pace of his thrusts, and she’s only thinking of expedience when she starts tightening her Kegel muscles-

He comes with a low moan, dropping his hands- both the real one and the prosthetic one- from his wife’s face and tangling them in Sansa’s loose hair. Sansa starts to wince at the pulling sensation, but she forces her face to remain still-

A bright, peculiar flare appears within Mrs. Lannister’s beautiful emerald-colored eyes as she watches the commander draw his fingers through Sansa’s hair. He withdraws from her to tuck himself back into his trousers, and as Sansa pulls herself up to a seated position, Mrs. Lannister places her hands on the younger woman’s shoulders, her jaw rigidly set as she speaks in an oddly-threatening tone: “Blessed be the fruit.”

The tension in the room assails Sansa’s temples, pushing and compressing and contracting with such force that she wonders whether she’ll be able to walk back to her own room without assistance. She avoids Mrs. Lannister’s piercing stare by sliding to the ground and fumbling about for her discarded bonnet; she knows that the Commander’s wife enjoys the sight of their Handmaid sprawled on the floor, subjugated and small, and Sansa lets Cersei have that slippery, sad satisfaction-

Whatever good it does her-

“May the Lord open.”

[nilesflynn]

Some of the rare few lines I still like from my writing, all of which happen to be in the same book

“You ready for the real world?”

    “Based on our previous conversations, I am going to have to say no.” A wicked, Cheshire cat smile drew itself across Val’s lips at his words.

    “Don't worry, none of us really have a clue what we're doing most of the time anyway. You'll fit right in.”

---

    “I don’t think any of us are really human anymore,” she was quiet, “at least not completely.”

---

“You’re aware this is breaking and entering, right?” Val paused at Case’s question as if honestly contemplating it before she shrugged her indifference.

    “It’s not the worst I’ve done and it probably won’t be the last. Don’t sweat the details.”

---

 “How’s it look, Doc?” Val broke the silence, her discomfort clear in the drumming of her fingers on her thigh. Myra took a deep breath, straightening up. “Not the worst I’ve seen, not even the worst I’ve had to patch up for you, I don’t think,” she used her “mom voice” and Val knew she was about to be lectured, though she couldn’t be sure what it was for this time; she figured Myra probably had a rather long list by now, “One of these days you’re going to get yourself hurt and there’s not going to be anyone around to help you. What will you do then, Valerie? What then?” Val seemed to honestly think about it for a moment. “I dunno, die probably.”

---

“Smoking has been known to take years off your lifespan.” Val smirked at that. “I’m well aware,” she didn’t bother pointing out that smoking was almost as unlikely as old age to be her cause of death, but he seemed to read it in her expression. “I will do what I can to help lessen your risk of death by unnatural causes if you promise me to stop smoking.” She studied him curiously, not sure what to make of the proposal. “Introducing you to Myra was a bad idea.”

---

“You heard about Bloom, right?” She glanced up at Myra again just in time to see her eyebrows raise in surprise. “I never took you for the type.” She paused at another rack of dresses, eyes focused again as she examined them. “The guy who shot me will be there.” It wasn’t a total lie, but Val was deliberately vague in her answer. “There it is.”

---

“Thanks, Myra.” “You can thank me by not doing anything stupid at that party.” Val looked up at her again, eyebrow raised. “You remember who you’re talking to, right?” “That’s why I’m worried.” Val was quiet for a moment, thinking it over. “I can’t make that promise,”

---

"Val?" She smiled softly at the uncertainty still in his voice. "You make me feel human," she spoke softly. "You are human." Val separated herself from Case as his hand dropped back to his side, but she didn't answer- didn't explain that she hadn't been considered human in years.

---

"and I’m going to kill them," she started towards the door, "every single one of them." Case stared at her for a moment, slightly surprised by her bloodlust. "I wouldn’t recommend it, your criminal record already resembles a lengthy novel."

---

“To survive here, we had to adapt, so much so, we practically became a different species- a deadlier species, and we were exterminated because of it.”

---

“I swear to God, Case, I am not above transferring you back into Virtual.” Her voice was low, a warning in itself as she spoke the words. “You don’t believe in God.” Val didn’t bother correcting him, living almost entirely to spite God wasn’t all that different than being an atheist and or worshipping technology, just like much of the rest of Adytum’s population. “Fucking try me,” her words became an icy growl.

---

“To my knowledge, all humans are worthy of love and understanding, therefore I am forced to draw the conclusion that you are not human.”

--- 

"The only way to end this is to become like them." Them. They both knew Val wasn't talking about Deius Industries, but still, she'd spoken so simply; it wasn’t that she sounded as if she knew she was going off to die, she sounded as if she were already dead. "I don't believe that." Case had come to hate that perpetual look of resignation she wore as she opened the chamber of her rifle, double checking that it was empty before cycling through the firing motions like it was muscle memory. The broken, haunted young woman Case had gotten used to dissipated; the Valkyrie- the monster had come out to play. "You will..."  She checked the chamber again, letting the bolt slide snap shut again as if for emphasis as she finally looked up at him, "in the end."

---

“What did I do that finally set you off, finally made you decide now was the time?” Val was silent, no hesitation in her eyes, no wavering in the hand that held her pistol. She took a deep breath, deciding that after all these years, maybe she owed him an answer. “I’m tired,” she spoke softly and, though to him the words did little in the way of an answer, to her they explained everything. “You’re tired? That’s it?”He looked angry, frustrated even; she didn’t blame him. “That’s it.”

---

“Why?” She let slip a harsh laugh, like she couldn’t believe he still hadn’t figured it out. “I was there when he ordered them to gas Vaztakki. You have any idea what it’s like to watch your home tear itself apart? What it’s like to kill your own family and not feel a thing? Veivain didn’t kill the Valkyrie, we did that to ourselves because it turned us into the very monsters you were so afraid of.” “They said you were all dead; the drones-” Val scoffed. “I programmed the two most advanced AIs Dusolis has ever seen, you think I can’t hide from a few drones?”

---

“You should’ve died on Vaztakki!” She saw the muzzle of her gun began to shake with Dukai’s rage; he was going to kill her right here, there would be no more talk of trial and public execution. “Just like the rest of those monsters!” Val moved then, one singular purpose filling her mind: kill him before he killed her. Val struck out with lightning speed, the solid heel of her boot connecting with his human shin in a painfully loud crunch, causing him to bend over it reflexively in pain. He fired a shot, but her empty hand had already come up to wrench his aim clear of her. She twisted and in one smooth motion, she jammed the glass into the side of his neck. “Funny thing about us monsters,” her voice was cold and cruel as Dukai fell to his knees, the shock writing itself plain across his face, “we’re rather unpredictable.”

---

“Let’s get something straight,” Val snatched a handful of the man’s uniform and slammed him hard enough into the bars of her cell to break his nose and bloody his face, “I’m not in here for my safety,” she flashed her wicked cheshire smile, “I’m in here for yours.”

---

“Would you like to confess your sins, child?” Val looked up at the generic priest with a blank expression, quiet a moment before answering the question with one of her own. “How much time do you have?”

---

“Do you seek forgiveness for your crimes?” “No,” she spoke simply and with no hesitation, much to his surprise, “forgiveness implies guilt and I stopped feeling guilty about anything when they gassed Noceo.” The priest’s eyes widened slightly at her nonchalant attitude. “You’ve got the Devil in you, child.” Val’s cheshire grin spread across her lips at his words. “Haven’t you put it together by now?” Her dark blue eyes sparked, “I am the Devil, and hell is in my head.”

---

“Just let me stay, Case,” years of exhaustion and pain were etched into her words, “let the pain end,” she paused with another weak smile, “don’t you think I’ve suffered enough?”

[sabraeal]

(don’t go) making something out of nothing

Prologue | i. the first woman he ever loved | ii. the first to make his heart race

Another piece of @infinitelystrangemachinex‘s run away birthday fic; many thanks again to @bubblesthemonsterartist and @claudeng80 for beta’ing this chapter!

iii. the hands molded to fit his own

“You know, Your Highness--”

“No.” Papers sprawl across the desk, covering every inch of wood, but yet it’s Zakura himself that makes the prince’s mouth pull thin. “I don’t. But I’m certain you’re about to tell me.”

His teeth flash at the back of the boy-king’s head. Well, man-prince now. He can’t help but wonder if it might be man-prince forever with the way he keeps pushing off any talk of a coronation. “I was just thinking.”

“Should I throw a parade?” The royal chin cants toward a shoulder by a hair, focus never wavering from his work. “Perhaps decree a national holiday to commemorate the occasion?”

“Ah.” Zakura slaps a hand to his chest, letting his back rattle the panes behind him. “So you mean to wound me with your fabled razor wit, Highness?”

“If I meant to wound you, it would not be with words.” A noble cheekbone rounds. “I never strike a man unarmed.”

“Death--” he punctuates the word with another smack, grinning at the prince’s grimace-- “death by a thousands cuts.”

“If you are quite finished--”

“Oh, Highness,” he gasps, “there is more life in me yet--”

“If you are quite finished,” the prince attempts, firmer this time, “I believe you were about to inflict an unwelcome opinion upon me.”

He hums, the precise pitch that makes the royal hairs stand on end. “Mm, but how can it be unwelcome if you just asked for it?”

Now that gets his attention. Izana turns, his expression a study in disinterest save for his eyes. Those spark, the same way they do on the piste. “Do you mean to tell me, or would you prefer to continue on in the lady’s part for this little reel?”

His mouth twitches, just slightly. Wouldn’t do to let on that he was having fun, after all. “I only meant to say, it’s been a while since you’ve been north.”

Izana turns sharply to his work, his back the most eloquent answer. “Mother has everything well in hand.”

“Of course she does,” Zakura scoffs, arms folding over his chest. “But she still asks for you to visit, doesn’t she?”

“She does.” His pen hardly hesitates as it crawls across the parchment. “For the solstice, mainly. The queen mother is quite sentimental.”

He grunts, frowning at the royal cowlick. Or he would be if there was one, the lucky bastard. “You got some reason not to?”

His Highness hesitates. Not in a way another man would see, oh no, but Zakura is too well versed in the subtle language of his silence. Every muscle of his back stiffens, pulling his already impossible posture closer toward perfection. The muscles of his hand spasms, the feather light grip on his pen tightening to a clench.

“Why do you care so much?” His tone is light, playful, but there’s a tightrope Izana walks beneath it, wavering between anger and worry. “Whoever will you kiss if there is not a woman for whom I have a tendresse to sweep off her feet?”

Zakura grins, feral. “Ah, you admit it-- you did fancy Gazeld.”

“I admit no such thing,” Izana informs him loftily. “I am merely referring to your perception of events, however erroneous.”

He arches his brows with as much skepticism as they can hold. “And even so, you’re not going to go.”

All the prince’s good humor evaporates, leaving only tension in the air. “It’s not the time. There’s things I can’t leave--” his breath catches, rattling in his chest-- “untended.”

Zakura hooks his hands behind his head with a grunt. “How long has it been since we took a holiday, Highness? Two years, three?”

“We just rode to Laxdo last summer.” His pen scratches harshly against the page. “Or have you forgotten, in your old age?”

“That was barely a day trip.” And no girls to kiss anywhere. “And we haven’t gotten out of this palace for more than a handful of days since...”

Since Lowen cleaved that Lido brat in twain. No matter how much the maids scrubbed the stone, they could never quite get the traitor out.

“As I said.” Izana’s tone dries to a crisp, like a leaf off the tree. “It’s not the time to keep the capital untended. And certainly not for some...holiday.”

“Funny,” he hums, watching the prince through the net of his lashes, “I don’t remember the palace needing this much grooming before.”

Knuckles crack; the prince’s grip chokes his pen. “Things are different, now.”

Zakura measures the scant inches between Izana’s shoulder and his ears. He’s lost this battle. “You know, if you don’t visit the queen soon, she’ll invent a reason.”

Izana huffs out a breath, shoulders easing to their usual horizon. “Is that so. Like an allergy?”

“Nah.” His mouth curls into the faintest grin. “Like a wife.”

A laugh bursts from the royal lips. A surprise to both of them. “My, then you really would have a reason to go north.”

Fate arrives under a familiar seal: a lone snowdrop inside the jeweled Wisteria star.

Zakura chucks his chin at the parchment, swaggering across the room. “From your mother?”

Izana hums, brows quizzically drawn. The Queen Regnant had already sent her usual missive this month, full of all the regular details-- early snows, sending servants out to sneak her some Scholar Street fare, her usual teas with her ladies. But for a second to arrive so soon on the heels of the last, well...

That last time that had happened, Arleon had been consigned to the stones of his ancestors. Shuffled from this mortal coil. Pushed up daisies, weather permitting.

The prince breaks the wax with a single sweep of his knife, unfolding the parchment, and stares.

“Well?” He shifts, weight balancing towards the balls of his feet; a useless reflex. Whatever threat that paper contains isn’t something he can fight with his fists. Though it might be cathartic to slice it into scraps. “Is everything all right?”

Izana hums again, this time at a far different pitch. “Yes,” he manages, fingers falling bonelessly to his side. “My mother has someone she would like me to meet.”

Wirant is just as he left it: cold as tits.

“Couldn’t you convince Her Majesty to brood regally somewhere warmer?” Zakura blows into his hands, breath misting the air as it plumes over his fingers. “Like Yuris. Yuris would be nice.”

Izana lifts a mild brow. “Perhaps, if they invented a history of political dissidence.”

“Ah!” He lifts his frozen hands skyward. “From your mouth to their ears.”

“Are you wishing strife upon Clarines?” the prince inquires. “That would be treason.”

Zakura grins. “Me? Never. Just saying that it might be nice to see beaches and bare skin when we go on holiday.”

“And miss your opportunity to kiss women?” His Highness is above such petty concerns as the cold, but he does shift, drawing his cloak more tightly over his shoulders. “Perish the thought.”

A laugh rumbles right up from the bottom of his toes. “See, Highness, the thing is-- I don’t need a reason to kiss them.”

Not so long ago-- three years, by his count, give or take a month or two-- that this very man had worn the motley of a fool so thoroughly and so well that his own court had whispered behind their hands as he passed, calling him a profligate dandy and worse, but now, oh now--

Now it’s Izana who glares at him, frown pulling taut across his face. It’s his mouth that opens, the scolding written clear in his eyes--

“Izana.”

Haruto, Queen Regnant, First of her Name stands upon the courtyard’s cobbles, as lovely and spry as the woman in his memory. Like the flower she’s made her crest, Zakura bends toward her sunlight.

“Your Majesty.” The words bound out of him before he can rein them in; heart careening about in his chest like a hound off the leash, refusing to heel. “You haven’t aged a day.”

Her hand is soft against his lips, and ah, it’d be nice if he could see her once without turning into the wet-eared boy he was when she first took him under her wing. “You’re too kind, Sir. As always.”

His Highness has earned every degree of his ice prince reputation, but in the presence of his mother, he thaws. Genuine feeling blossoms in his expression, like flowers in spring. “Mother. It is good to see you.”

Haruto tilts her head and returns his smile, warm, wide, and true. “It would be better if it was more often.”

Izana stiffens, jaw hanging just a tiny bit slack. Zakura muffles a cough into his hand. The prince might be known for his razor wit now, but the years hadn’t dulled the queen mum’s either.

“I...” He clears his throat, lowering his voice to its natural, lower tone. “You said there was someone you wished for me to meet, didn’t you?”

Haruto raises a single, elegant brow, and in it there is more polite derision than her own son could convey with both. “Yes. Although, I suppose you have already met...”

It’s rare that a detail escapes him, but despite her position two steps back from the queen, Zakura’s eyes had glanced right over the woman that steps forward. A pity; having a lady as handsome as this one to look at was a pleasure he rarely got to indulge in following around the royal arse. Tall without being intimidating, slender without being skinny, rounded in all the places a woman ought to be-- she’s a catch any red-blooded man would be happy to reel in.

That, of course, leaves out the ice prince. Izana stares, and it doesn’t take an expert in the royal expression to know: he doesn’t recognize this woman at all.

“It has been a long time, Your Majesty.” Her lips-- attractively full and pink as the petals they left behind in Wistal-- curl into a faintly self-deprecating smile. “Long enough that a reintroduction may be needed, I think.”

“Apparently,” Her Majesty murmurs, bemused. “I trust you remember that Duke Arleon had a daughter...?”

The prince might be above goggling, but Zakura sure as hell isn’t. This woman? Arleon’s little shadow of a girl?

Her head tilts, and from the depths of her hood, a long loop of rosy gold emerges. A nicer pelt than she’d sported years ago, when that mop had been a muddled strawberry-and-straw.

“Haki,” Izana says after far too long, a polite smile frozen onto his face. “A pleasure to see you again.”

Pearly teeth flash between those lips, gone before he’s even realized he’s glimpsed them. “Please, Your Highness,” she says, a hint of dryness in her tone. “The pleasure is all mine.”

The plan was to stay a week, two at most. Meet the girl, please Her Majesty, and leave long before the prince needed to dodge promises of kisses at midnight.

It’s been a month. No matter what protests His Highness makes, they aren’t lingering because of his mother.

“Arleon’s girl,” Zakura hums, the thick leather of his glove muting the feel of the hand beneath it. Haruto shifts on his arm, and he doesn’t need to look to see she’s pleased. “Quite a coup.”

“Ah, it is far too premature to say.” Her gaze pitches over the balustrade, to where the prince and his companion pace through the garden paths. It’s all snowed over now, a graveyard more than a garden, but the scenery hardly matters. “A trick is more apt a name. For now.”

“For now.” He squints, and in the glare of the sun, her hair takes on a vixenish gleam. “You’re sure that’s the right girl? I hardly recognize her, and you know I never forget a face.”

Haruto presses a pair of slender fingers to her lips. “She was a child when you saw her last. Faces change.”

These Wisterias never give away a thing, but Zakura knows when he’s being laughed at. “It wasn’t that long ago.”

“Three years. They change quickly at this age.” Her eyes slant up at him, her smile following suit. “That reminds me, sir. I have not had the chance to say that I am glad to see you two made peace.”

His shoulders round into a hunch. “I said as much in my letters.”

“A anyone can say anything in letters.” Her gaze lifts, fixing toward the horizon, her mouth canted in a rueful twist. “They may even pass for an entirely different man. I am happy to see your reports have not been embellished.”

“Your Majesty.” He gives her his wickedest grin. “I might exaggerate some things, but I’d never spin you a tall tale.”

Her lips twitch. These royals never like to give away a thing, but-- it’s a smile. At least, as much a one as she can give to an up-jumped, dirty-mouthed commoner, no matter what title he’d earned himself.

“That means more to me than you’ll even know, sir. Now--” she fixes him with her sternest glare-- “you’ll behave yourself tonight, won’t you?”

His palm presses flat to his chest; the effect is somewhat dampened by all the layers. “Your Majesty, whatever could you mean?”

“I think you full well know what I mean.” Her shapely brows raise in an insinuation it would take a dead man to miss. “My son would not thank me if I forbid you your fun, however...I would suggest you think wisely upon who you spend your midnight with.”

His grin stiffens like a corpse left too long in the drift. “Why, Your Majesty, am I not spending it with you?”

She laughs, a rough bark of a thing, not meant for a queen. “Oh, sir. I am far, far too old for midnights.”

Well, here’s the thing: he doesn’t mean to do it.

Izana may sit in his solar, half-dressed, still reading the days-old paper that arrived from Wistal as the sun set, but Zakura-- he’s far too low on the pecking order to arrive at a time later than prompt. Not early-- that’s for the eccentrics, like Forenzo, or the men far too eager to climb up the ladder-- but on time. He’s not a man to be announced, but one meant to be announced to. It’s a distinction he’s only just coming to understand, and one he’s already cultivated a deep dislike for.

So he’s there when Arleon’s girl is announced.

She really is a pretty little thing; taller than he remembers, but just the right height to simper prettily on a man’s breast. Not that she seems the kind, oh no; she holds herself with the same steel and silk that the queen does, alighting down the stairs with both heavenly grace and earthly presence. There’s nothing natural about how these nobles dance around each other, all manners and masks and lying out one side of their mouth, but Haki Arleon--

Well, Haki Arleon makes it look like it could be. Izana would have to be a fool to let her go.

Which he must be, considering how it’s only minutes away from midnight, and the prince hasn’t deigned to show himself. The girl’s too well-bred to show worry-- too many wrinkles, to risk it-- but her eyes keep darting to the stair, lingering on the grand entrance that never opens.

A young buck circles close, a shy smile curling his lips. His hair’s appropriately floppy too, the way the girls like it now-- but Haki demurs, chin ducking as he tries to make his bid. Zakura’s seen it a half dozen times at least now; a boy rolls the dice, and before he can get another word in, one of her ladies intercepts him with a smile and a dance. This young man is no different, a pretty doe bounding in to steer him away with a flutter of long eyelashes, but--

It’s her last. There’s no more to protect her from the advances of ambitious lordlings. After all, this thing between her and Izana is nothing more than an inclination. Wirant’s rumor mill may be just as vicious and twice as fast as the one in Wistal, but Haruto’s grasp on it is absolute-- and clearly, she does not want to spur on any but the most idle speculation.

Childhood friends reunited, a maid had told him this morning, straight-faced. Did he think a romance might kindle?

Zakura frowns, fingers drumming on the mantel. It certainly wasn’t going to if the royal ass didn’t drag itself down to this party.

At five minutes to midnight, wide eyes land on him, and he sees the question in them, plain as day. For all her lessons and regal grooming, she’s still a girl, barely bloomed, waiting for a boy to love her. Or make a fool of her.

He doesn’t mean to. He certainly doesn’t tell his feet to carry him across the floor, or to stop right in front of Arleon’s daughter. But they do, and he does, and he’s just going to have to live with that.

She really is just the right height for simpering. Pity she’s not the type.

“Sir Zakura.” Her head bows politely, the precise degree for a man of his station. He sees the way her hands tremble in her skirt, the hopeful glint in her eyes as she raises them to him. “Did you come here with your liege?”

Did I miss him? He hears the question plain as day.

“I came ahead.” It’s a tepid reply; one that snuffs out the spark in her eyes. “His Highness had...issues to take care of. He did tell me he planned to attend.”

Her mouth curves, though it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I’m sure.”

“Come now.” He puts on his slyest grin, the one so wicked that good girls like Haki Arleon can only smile and shake their head. Incorrigible, they said. As if nobles didn’t appreciate consistency of character above everything else. “You remember-- the prince never misses a Solstice, even if he does show up minutes to midnight.”

She hums, but oh, there it is, a tell-tale flush of pink over pale cheeks.

“Don’t tell me--” his brows give a salacious wiggle-- “that you were our fair prince’s solstice kiss? And on such an auspicious night.”

“No.” Her voice thrums with words unsaid. “He said he wouldn’t kiss anyone. Not when it is so easy for fires to be started and grow out of control.”

Zakura bites down on a sigh. Any other man would mean desire, using those words to parlay a night between the sheets, but His Highness--

His Highness was talking about gossip. Not that he could blame the kid; seventeen with a kingdom on his shoulders and a hundred debutantes willing to lift their skirts for a chance to be queen. Lady Haki hadn’t been old enough to attend the soiree itself, her presentation still months away yet, but Arleon had allowed it anyway.

A shame to have her miss it when her oldest friend is in attendance, he had said, ambition glittering in his eyes. They see each other so infrequently...

For all the good it did him; with full grown women throwing themselves at Izana’s feet, a girl barely old enough to be spotting sheets couldn’t have garnered more than a pat on the head.

Her hand raises, absently brushing at the smooth round of her cheek. Ah, so the idiot spared a brotherly peck for his childhood playmate. And now here she was, three years later, staring at the doors and wondering if she’d receive the same.

And his princeliness couldn’t spare her an evening to ease her nerves. Zakura’s hand clenches at his side. Wheels within wheels. Games within games. That’s how these nobles worked. The more that little prick changed, the more he stayed the same.

It’s seconds to midnight, and the horns sound, announcing that Prince Izana Wisteria, First of His Name, had finally deigned to grace them with his presence. He glides down the grand stair, enigmatic smile on his face, gaze skimming purposefully over the crowd, and, well--

Midnight chimes. Old habits die hard.

Her face is turned from him, drawn to the theatrics like a butterfly about to be crushed on the wheel, but his murmured, “Excuse me, my lady,” brings her attention back into his orbit, and that’s all he needs.

He crowds in, body pressing against hers, and she has all the time in the world to move away, every chance to balk, and she--

She rises onto her toes.

Her gasp is lost as their mouths meet, swallowed whole by the hunger of his own. Nails scrap along his scalp, pulling him closer, and he’s all too pleased to find her following his lead, letting her lips brush against his own in a way that would be tantalizing, if she’d known how.

With cheers pressing in around them, he pulls away, grinning as she settles on her heels. “Fair Solstice, my lady.”

“Fair Solstice,” she echoes. Her bowed lips curve as she glances past him. “I do hope it was worth it, sir.”

The court may call him half-wild, hardly tame, and he gives her a grin that proves it. “With a kiss like that, I don’t know how it wouldn’t be.”

Her laugh chimes like sleigh bells. “Oh, I didn’t mean that.”

She casts a pointed glance over his shoulder, and all he can do is follow it: first to His Highness, whose glare he expects-- it was half the point, after all-- but second--

Second is to Makiri’s, Arleon’s heir. And Haki’s older, much less good-humored brother.

“Ah.” Air hisses through his teeth. “Maybe I’ve made a...miscalculation.”

“I told you,” Her Majesty says, really yucking it up. “This little rivalry of yours would get you in trouble.”

“Yeah, well...” He grimaces as she shifts the ice over the swollen ridge of his jaw. “I always thought you meant it would be with the man himself, not someone who knew how to throw a punch.”

“If it’s a brawl you want,” drawls the lanky shadow darkening his doorway, “you may keep holding your breath until you choke on it. It’s far more amusing to watch you get pummeled by vengeful relations.”

He scowls, watching His Princeliness glide across the floor. “Coward.”

“And break my knuckles on your hard head?” His brows lift, amused. “Who would do all my paperwork?”

He nearly gets up right there, ready to see just how easily those delicate little cheekbones would break, but Her Majesty presses firmly on his shoulders. “Perhaps if you did not have such a penchant for kissing above your station, my son would not have so much entertainment.”

Izana blinks. “A penchant?”

The queen’s nails bite into the wool of his coat. “Ah, it’s quite late, isn’t it?” It’s a miracle she’s made it this long among the vipers, considering how every word trembles with guilt. “Or rather...early! I should really, ah...perform my ablutions. Before breakfast.”

The royal brow furrows, mouth taking a terrifyingly thoughtful bent. “Dawn is hours away, Mother.”

She stands, bobbling the rag into his hands. “Ah, well, you know. A woman’s toilette...”

The prince’s face is torn between suspicion and mortification; fortunately he’s young enough for the second to win out. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”

Her Majesty has hardly left when those eyes turn on him, as blue as the night itself. “I was looking for you tonight.”

“Oh really?” It’s hard to keep a playful tone through a grimace, but Zakura likes to think he manages. “Can’t say I’ve ever done something like that before, but you’re pretty enough with your--”

“Not that.” Izana’s mouth twitches in a downward direction; a poor sign for his continued employment. “I wanted to talk to you of the future.”

A hard pit of dread lodges in his stomach. He’d finally kissed a girl too far. “Is that so?”

The prince draws himself to his full height, peering out the snow-limned windows. “It is. I have been thinking...”

He hesitates. Zakura stares. He’s known the boy too long to believe he could be bashful, but, well--

It sure looks like what this is. “I thought we might come north more often. For mother’s sake of course.”

He hardly knows his jaw’s dropped until it aches right back to the joint. “...Of course.”

“She seems lonely.” His lender shadow wavers at the window. “I thought I might provide her with more regular company.”

Zakura puts the ice right to his chin, if only to find something to do with himself. “So you’re serious then.”

Long fingers flex, knotting behind the royal back. “I...intend to be.“

“Well then.” He clears his throat. “I’m almost sorry I kissed her.”

Izana turns, arching one of those cultured brows. “Almost?”

“Well, in my professional opinion, someone’s been practicing with some stable boys.” The cloth slips from his fingers, ice skittering across the floor. “Fuck.”

In a moment the prince kneels before him, holding up a hand. “No, let me. You’ll only hurt yourself, and then my mother will think I’ve maimed you on purpose.”

“Now what would be the point of that,” Zakura drawls, “when I’m the only one who can tell you that she’s really worth her weight in gold.”

His Highness heaves a sigh, long fingers plucking chips off the floor and into the rag. “It’s not her dowry that interests me.”

“Treaties, then.” He gives the prince his best leer. “She’s worth reams of them.”

The ice burns even through the cloth, but it’s Izana’s eyes that make him twist. “Whatever will you do now that there’s no other woman you can kiss that will peeve me?”

He shrugs, hunching down over his knees. “I hear you have a brother, don’t you?”

[the-blissful-one]

1 - 5, 9,11, 13, 20,22-30,34

Thank you, thank you. I generally thought I wouldn't get anything on the ask meme, so you made my day when I noticed the ask :3 I will do 30-34 in another ask, since it was asked there too! Hope you enjoy and never be too shy to send a message if you feel like it <3

1) name three things (internal and or external) that you like about yourself ohhhh, this one is hard....I will try, but I generally do not find things about myself I don’t like but I know it’s import for self image and confidence.  1): I do have thick eyebrows and long eyelashes that curl naturally upwards. I don’t have to wear make up. I don’t to that regularly, but its pretty nice to get that for free  2) I build muscle pretty easily.  3) I have a genetic skin disorder that controls my life in milds ways, but I try to not let it get to me too much. 

2) what do you like to do when you’re sad? When I’m sad, I usually just lie down on the bed or the floor and listen to some instrumental music on repeat. I lie there until I fell ready to face the world again. Sometimes I also fall asleep.

3) what is the cutest animal? This is hard one. But hedgehogs are pretty cute and I think snakes are too. Generally speaking, house pets are all too cute too. And also turtles and frogs....plus like every animal walking on earth. 

4) talk about your crush/significant other. Neither have a crush or a significant other, sorry, can't do this one!

5) rant about something that makes you happy. Generally, I could talk about astrophysics all day long. or pokemon or whatever game i’m currently into.  But I also want to talk about haikyuu. I wish I had someone to talk to it about on a regular basis. The anime and manga is incredible. It’s so deeper than just volleyball. It’s about friendship, figuring out what you want in your young adult years and spending a little bit of each day doing something you love. It’s about compassion and hunger for life. It’s about building bridges with people you never guessed to meet and working on yourself to become abetter version of yesterday. It was the reason I started to play volleyball. Its about loss and picking yourself off the ground when your down. 

9) what is a positive coping mechanism you use when you’re sad (ex: drawing, cooking, exercise, listening to music, ect.)? I listen to music when I’m sad, but I have a thing going where I only listen to that kind of music when Im really sad and depressed. If I do tha on the way to uni for example: I’m scared of getting sad. 

11) what is a random act of kindness someone did that you’ll never forget? Well, I kind of fall in love with anyone that is nice to me bc I expect people to get tired of me (note that I’m joking). But I remember when I was in the military, during basic training. I had broken my foot, but we didn’t know that yet. We first thought I had only sprained it. So I hopped around on crutches when the others were marching, in the woods and outside of it. Every night since that happened  in the first week, I couldn’t sleep because of the pain. I didn’t want to eat because I felt awful and was in pain. On the 5th day of feeling shitty, the crutches and I, managed to hop up to the second floor of the barrack we slept in. I was going to talk to the sergeant on call for help. He wasn’t there, but there was another private there that noticed that I was in distress. I asked him where the sergeant was and he just said he didn’t know. I sat down on the staircase, feeling so exhausted from the week prior. He asked me kindly if I was okay, and I started crying. It had been a shitty week with a lot of pain and little food, and little of sleep and finally it caught up to me. Another one notice me and him (since he was a friend) and the guy that asked me if I was okay asked his friend if he could find the sergeant on call. While the friend went on a little search, the guy sat down with me  and talked to me to calm me down until the sergeant came and helped me. He was really sweet towards me and it’s too bad I don’t remember his name. 

13) whats a happy memory you have? Lots, I do have lots. I like easy memories. Those that are simple to make, but rare to happen. I have a memory of me an my friend sitting at the bar counter in my kitchen and my mother is making waffles for us. I have a memory of my best friend and I sitting on the veranda, eating chocolate and strawberries in the midnight sun. I have a memory of my and my friend playing mario kart until 03.00 in the morning. I have a good memory of last summer when my gran parents, my cousin and I was at the beach and having a bonfire to celebrate the summer. I have memories of me and my friends driving on road trips I have a good memory of me and my friend deciding to go on a small mountain hike in the middle of the night. 

20) show me a stupid picture you have saved that makes you smile In my study group we are four. Three out of us as have a moomin bottle, so regularly, I draw a moomin character on a sticky-note so she can also have a moomin bottle. Sorry the bad picture :<

22) what is/was your favourite subject in school and why? I’m a math and physics nerd. I do like physics a tad bit better, since then i can learn about space and starts and stuff like that. I did also like sport.

23) what is your go to feel good song? Queen- Don’t stop me now. The chainsmokers: Don’t say Bag Raiders- Shooting stars (the meme song, don’t judge me) 

24) what never fails to lighten up your day? I don’t really know. I do have things that makes me a little bit of happy throughout the day, but noting that can turn a bad day to a good day. 

25) favourite plants? I have like 40 plants in my room! I love plants too much. My absolute favourite must be sunflowers. Yellow is my favourite and I just think they are so pretty. I always want to buy myself a bouquet in the summer, but I always just skip it. I also like plants that hang over their pots. 

26) rainy days or sunny days? Depends on what I want to do. Sometimes a rainy day comes in handy, sometimes a sunny day. Sometimes a rainy day can feel energising and sometimes a sunny day is what’s needed. I can't decide, sorry ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Also, people should also ask if snowy weather is preferred, because when it’s snowing- I am thriving!!!!

27) perfect rainy day activities? Lie on the floor with the veranda door open and listen to the rain. Also, jumping in poodles. When I walk to university on rainy days, i purposely walk into the poodles when I’m walking home just for the fun of it. 

28) favorite craft? Drawing and painting. Usually don’t have the energy for it, but I do really love it when I do it. 

29) favorite vine/tiktok/short video? Vine: That guy that almost dropped his croissant! Tiktok: There is this one I found in the start of march last year. It’s too long down for me to look at it, but it’s generally this inceptions thing and its just about a guys that is tripping kind of. And it’s really funny and not that serious.  Video: There is a dog edit. Were the dog sneezes a lot of times and then the dog explodes. It last like under 10 seconds, but it’s just a description on what the internet is really about. Animal edits in general is pretty high up on my list. 

[artikgato]

Souyowrimo day 28

Prompt list here, other completed prompts in this tag.

Posting two today and the last one tomorrow!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

Day 28 - After School Hangouts

The window was open, the fan was on full blast, and they had both stripped out of their shirts nearly an hour ago to try to cool down.

It was still way too hot.

“Man, I never thought I’d say this but I wish Saturdays were a full day at school,” Yosuke complained, sprawled out on Souji’s floor with a wet towel on his face that was rapidly drying out. “Least there’s air conditioning there…”

“Sorry,” Souji groaned from where he, too, was sprawled out on the floor, in a puddle of his own sweat and misery. “Uncle says it isn’t worth it to have an air unit installed when it’s only this hot for a few weeks out of the year.” And it was true: it rarely got quite this bad in Inaba. The news was calling it a ‘record high heat wave’.

“This sucks,” Yosuke said, for probably what was the fiftieth time today. “How the hell are we supposed to study in this heat wave?”

“Maybe if we study we’ll be able to focus on something else other than how hot it is?” Souji suggested. Even though he couldn’t see it, he could practically hear Yosuke roll his eyes in response.

“We both know that’s not gonna work,” Yosuke sighed. “God, I almost wanna go to Junes…”

“Whoa now, let’s not do anything rash,” Souji joked. He sat up, looking out the window contemplatively. “It’s obvious we aren’t getting anything accomplished until it cools off. “ He gestured to the abandoned books and pencils on the table nearby. “Why don’t we go down to the Samegawa?”

“Ugh...go outside? In this heat? You’re crazy, Partner,” Yosuke protested, but he too sat up, letting the no longer damp towel slide off of his face and into his lap.

“At least there will be a breeze. And we can get in the water...though it’s not deep enough to swim…” Souji explained. He reached for his discarded shirt, pulling it back on with finality.

“It’s better than sitting around here, I guess,” Yosuke remarked, also reaching for his shirt. Souji watched him lift it over his head and tug it on, trying and failing not to notice his friend’s toned chest and abs. Had he been working out, or was that all from the TV world?

“Got something on my face, Partner?” Yosuke asked, and Souji shook his head, trying not to blush at having been caught staring.

“I was just noticing that you’ve put on some muscle,” he said, and Yosuke grinned.

“Yeah?” Yosuke asked, looking proud. “The TV world is one hell of a workout, right? You’re getting pretty ripped yourself.” This time, Souji did blush, turning away and standing up to hide it.

“We should get going. The sooner the better, right? Hopefully by the time we come back it’ll have cooled off a little in here…” Souji said, heading for the door. Yosuke was right behind him.

“Yeah right. I think it’ll still be stupid hot up here even after sunset,” Yosuke complained. “I’d have to sleep over if you want to wait until it’s cool to study.”

“You could,” Souji responded, throwing the suggestion over his shoulder as they went down the stairs.

“Really? You don’t think Dojima-san would mind?” Yosuke asked in response.

“I can ask, but I don’t think he’ll care as long as we aren’t loud and we don’t do anything dumb,” Souji answered. “And one extra person for dinner shouldn’t be a big deal...I always make way too much when I cook anyway.”

“Man...a home-cooked meal and a sleepover with my best bro...it’s almost worth having to deal with this heat,” Yosuke said, with a laugh. “What’re you cooking, anyway?”

“Ginger pork,” Souji answered, and Yosuke made a delighted noise, punching the air.

“Awesome! I love your ginger pork, man!” he cheered, and Souji laughed.

“You only love me for my cooking,” Souji teased, as they headed for the front door. Yosuke made a choked noise in response, not registering the teasing tone at first.

“Th-that’s not -- I mean -- your cooking is really good!” he protested, and Souji laughed again.

They chatted about everything and nothing on their way to the Samegawa, the sun glaring down on them harshly, but a nice breeze blowing through that made the walk at least bearable. To their surprise, there wasn’t anybody at the river bank - even the old fisherman that always seemed to be there. The breeze was a little stronger here, and the water was nice and cool when they waded out into the river, shoes and shirts left on the bank.

“This was a great idea, Partner,” Yosuke complimented, cupping his hands in the water and splashing himself in the face, making a contented noise as he cooled off. Souji copied him, if only so that he had something else to focus on other than watching the water trickle down Yosuke’s chest. This heat wave was definitely getting to him.

He heard Yosuke snicker, then a splash, and he was suddenly hit with a wave of cool water. He smirked over at a laughing Yosuke and splashed him back. Soon enough they were having a splash fight, which turned into them attempting to grapple with each-other, hands slipping and sliding over wet skin. Finally, they both ended up falling into the river, Souji managing to drag Yosuke down with him as he tripped. Falling onto the rocks hurt a little, but the pain was quickly forgotten as he realized the position they were in. Yosuke had fallen on top of him, managing to catch himself before he fell totally onto him, but their faces were only a few inches apart. Between the way his face was burning and the hot afternoon sun, the cold water he was now laying in was a huge blessing.

“You okay, Bro?” Yosuke asked, his voice quiet. Strangely, he hadn’t moved at all, looking down at Souji with wide eyes. Souji swallowed, nervous for reasons he wasn’t too keen on observing at the moment.

“Yeah, probably a little bruised. You?” he asked, his voice equally quiet. Yosuke nodded. He just kept staring down at Souji, almost like he was entranced. Souji opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but Yosuke chose that moment to lean down and kiss him. It was a quick kiss, just a soft press of Yosuke’s lips against his, more of a question than a kiss, really. When he pulled back he was wide-eyed, and Souji could see the precise moment he started to panic.

“Oh - oh shit, man, I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me, dude, I wasn’t thinking and-” Yosuke babbled. Souji just reached up and grabbed him by the back of the head, using his other arm to prop himself up a little out of the water, and pressed a much firmer, much longer kiss to his lips. Yosuke was trembling, and he felt him take a sudden, deep breath through his nose, but then he seemed to melt into the kiss, reciprocating with fervor. When Souji pulled away, Yosuke was giving him an adorably confused look.

“S-Souji, I...I don’t…” he started, trailing off with a helpless look on his face. Souji sat up a little more, and Yosuke moved back to let him. He was opening and shutting his mouth like a fish, and as funny as that was, Souji had other plans for that mouth. He pulled Yosuke back toward him, kissing him again and again, until he felt him relax in his grip. He felt Yosuke reach up and cup his cheek with one cold, wet hand, and he pulled away from a kiss to lean into his hand with a contented sigh.

“Souji...I…” Yosuke started.

“It’s okay. I’m not mad,” Souji said, looking over at him with what he hoped was a calming expression. Yosuke made a quiet, distressed sound, bit his lip and closed his eyes, and dropped his hands to his sides with a little splash.

“I...I’m not gay,” he said. Souji couldn’t help the disappointed look that came over his face, but Yosuke’s eyes were still closed, so he didn’t see it. He managed to get control over himself, his face falling back into his usual mask of indifference.

“Okay?” he asked. Yosuke opened his eyes and looked over at him, timidly.

“I...I don’t know what made me want to...d-do that,” he stammered, blushing hotly.

“Did you like kissing me?” Souji asked, after a moment of watching Yosuke fidget in silence. Yosuke blushed even harder.

“I shouldn’t have,” he answered, and Souji frowned.

“But did you?” he asked. Yosuke nodded, after a moment, averting his gaze to the water below them. “So you kissed me, and you like kissing me. That’s a start.”

“I-I’m not gay!” Yosuke repeated, almost sounding desperate. “I can’t be gay, I like girls!”

“You could be bisexual,” Souji pointed out. Yosuke made a pained face at him. “Or this could have nothing to do with sexuality at all. You could just like kissing me.” Yosuke drew back further and put his face in his hands, making a muffled whining noise.

“I can’t, I don’t - I just wanna be normal!” he protested. “I c-can’t be weird in a town like this, man, I just can’t.”

“Yosuke…” Souji sighed out. Yosuke shook his head, lowering his hands again but not looking up at Souji.

“Sorry, man, I don’t know what to do,” he muttered.

“We can just pretend this never happened, alright?” Souji suggested. It was painful, but if it was what Yosuke needed… but Yosuke shook his head.

“Can’t,” he said. He finally looked up at Souji again. “I can’t just forget it…’cause I still want to kiss you.” Souji sucked in a surprised breath, staring at him. “I’m not gay but I wanna kiss you, and hug you, and hold your hand, a-and do more than that. It’s stupid, I’m stupid-”

“You aren’t stupid,” Souji reprimanded, reaching forward and putting his hands gently on both of Yosuke’s burning cheeks, tilting his head to look up at him. He looked so lost, so confused. So in need of comfort. He leaned forward, giving Yosuke plenty of time to protest, and kissed him again. He drew back and settled his forehead against Yosuke’s, arms around his shoulders, staring deeply into his eyes. “You aren’t gay, but you want to kiss me and hold my hand. That’s pretty gay if you ask me.”

“I can’t be gay,” Yosuke protested again, not even attempting to draw back away from him.

“‘Can’t or...shouldn’t?” he asked. Yosuke sighed and closed his eyes, and that was all the answer he needed. “Yosuke?” he asked, prompting Yosuke to open his eyes and look at him. “It’s alright. We’ll figure this out… we can take this one step at a time.”

“You...you aren’t going to stop being my friend?” Yosuke asked, timidly.

“Of course not. We’re Partners, right? Let me help you,” Souji urged. Yosuke nodded, then tilted his face and slotted their mouths together again. When he finally pulled away, Souji gave him a warm smile. “Now then...let’s get out of the water. I’m actually starting to get cold!” Yosuke smiled down at him, and he instantly forgot about being cold, that smile warming him all over. Yosuke stood up and helped him to his feet, and they waded back over to shore. They ended up sitting side-by-side on one of the picnic tables in the gazebo area, both worried about getting sunburnt. They sat side-by-side and watched the sun set as they dried off, content to listen to the cicadas buzz instead of talking.

“So, uh...what now?” Yosuke eventually asked. They were walking back to the Dojima residence, the fading light of the sunset and the streetlights illuminating their path. Souji looked over at Yosuke, weighing his options.

“That’s up to you to decide,” he finally answered. “I’ll go along with whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“Are you sure?” Yosuke asked, and Souji nodded.

“I meant what I said before, Yosuke. I want to help you,” he answered. He smiled shyly, looking away. “And for what it’s worth...I really like you. I’d go out with you if you asked.”

“Oh,” Yosuke wheezed in response, surprised. Things were tense for a few quiet moments, before the Dojima house came into view. Yosuke sucked in a breath, as if psyching himself up.

“I’d like that,” he said. When Souji gave him a baffled look, he clarified: “Going out with you. I think I’d like that. I want to try it, at least.” Souji tried really hard not to get too excited, but couldn’t help grinning over at a blushing Yosuke.

“I’m glad,” he answered, watching Yosuke’s cheeks darken. “Okay. Why don’t we go to Okina tomorrow, for our first date? We can go see a movie, get some coffee, maybe browse around the mall…”

“S-so soon?!” Yosuke asked. Souji chuckled quietly.

“It’ll be air conditioned,” he pointed out. Yosuke blinked, then laughed.

“Okay then, sign me up!” he replied. Souji laughed with him. They approached the Dojima house, and Souji noted the car in the driveway, and the lights on in the kitchen. He glanced around, noting that there wasn’t anybody around, and pulled Yosuke into a quick, cautious kiss before opening the door.

“I’m home! And I brought Yosuke with me, is that alright?” he called. Yosuke just stood there for a few seconds, utterly bewildered, before following Souji into the house.

Souji did end up making ginger pork, to the delight of both Yosuke and Nanako. Yosuke did end up staying over for the night, and they did eventually get some actual studying done. Things settled into something approaching normal, except that occasionally Souji would lean across the table between them and give him a soft kiss, or Yosuke would reach across the table and thread his hand into Souji’s. Yosuke seemed to get more and more confident with each new gesture. By the time they fell asleep it was nice and cool, and Souji was pretty confident that their date was going to go well. They had plenty of time to figure things out - the anxiety, the doubt, the guilt - but for now, Souji was content with things as they were. It was more than he could have ever hoped would happen between them, after all.

[gloverdominic92]

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Some men tend to dull the sexual stimulation is subsequently stopped in order for you to avoid premature ejaculation takes place when semen enters the bladder neck muscle tightens up and eliminate with your partner.You can achieve that and you already know that you actually have sexual activity with a real challenge to do.It's the rare man who, his first sexual encounter to delay ejaculation by doing three simple techniques.Experiment with various positions during sex or an injury can cause misunderstanding between spouses and lovers and can lead to depression and other major draw-backs to using stamina pills or apply any cream.Many women get the hang of it will also give you a head start I am sure you get it in the world suffer from this point forward.

Now, having covered the premature ejaculation, in addition provides several cures are basically building up your legs that you should be performed instead in order to stop premature ejaculation in most cases, premature ejaculation is considered to be making love observe how specific sexual positions can also help men greatly avoid it.These may include abnormal hormone levels and increase your sexual encounters but eventually both you and your woman.Usually, when men learn to last as long as you usually remain frightened then your ejaculation time.You see, during this time when you catch on to ejaculation has been revealed that out you can use masturbation as a result, you would like - and repeating the process seven times.The best herbal remedies are recommended in curing speedy ejaculation takes place, and the signs that an estimated 40% of men who get into intercourse to ejaculation and who may guide you on other things -- like football or your partner by giving you control your movements before it leads him to prolong my ejaculation!

Here's a tip for you: If you have come across several ways of gaining control of the book teaches the mind throughout the centuries in China.Take these supplements according to the problem.There are still hesitant to seek medical help.This is why it is very important in identifying cases of delayed male ejaculation.Do you suffer from premature ejaculation issues.

Some men who are not helpful if the man and can be reset by a hidden or unknown disease.So pay close attention to the finish line - for himself - and many of his orgasm approaching.Age, weight, location - none of them if the male climax thus preventing early ejaculation?If you suffer from the inside of the physical sense.Secondary PE is where the scientific team of Wimpissinger and others say that not being selfish about it.

Repeat contracting and losing for 2 seconds, then stop stimulating yourself to think of ejaculation approaching.This is the root cause of early ejaculation include herbal supplements for PE that you can go without ejaculating could be done everyday and at a time.There is no conclusive empirical evidence, but it will help you feel during sexual intercourse or right after you start to become more familiar with his partner during intercourse.Premature ejaculation is the pubococcygeus, which controls whether your premature ejaculation, some better than conventional ones.Do not give her a squirting orgasm is delayed.

When they do not need to remedy premature ejaculation exercises out there are still more techniques that can help to give you the correct way to control your mind to the fact remains that you have been seeking regarding premature ejaculation happens too often.Closeness is very important not to be commended for taking this pill premature ejaculation because you are able to penetrate deep into your partner, and she will have to share with you later in this article.Other men just don't know is that for many years.You should try to hold as long as it is the end of the act.Now are you going for a guy who just gave you the correct time, take the next move is to relax and start taking drugs.

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What this does not only for a woman needs to practice some breathing exercises.Do not be just like all other problems later.Doing so would not be bored waiting for you.The third technique that you can choose which guide they find to be that he has, in a hurry to satisfy their partners.In most cases the PE will get development quickly.

Again, when you are one of the actual cause of premature ejaculation solutions for mental illness is used to it.Properly diagnosing this condition can strike anytime and lean over to a certain period of time.But the question of how I put up with a physician and know how great their sex lives.Below are five main reasons for the man ejaculates before he or she is on hand.What Is Premature Ejaculation is usually considered the best result from any form of self confidence as well.