#Also for my sake pretend he still has silver hair a year down the line lol

[demoiselledefortune]

Post canon sangcheng fic recs for @runespoor7

(wooohoo that’s only 25 fics haha)

Silence by inberin

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17441771

a conversation in the snow.

Wonderfully nuanced characterisation. It hints at whole relationship and dynamic with a lot of delicacy.

Windrose by offlight

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18997546

Nie Huaisang is forced into a coma to stop his qi deviation. Jiang Cheng is tasked with waking him up.

There’s a lot of intriguing dreamscapes in this one, and I love Jiang Cheng (and in the background Wei Wuxian)’s desperation and obstinacy.

All the innocence we give by shamiran

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18864910

Learning to renavigate the ground between them is easier than Nie HuaiSang expects. It's also harder than he could have imagined.

Just a sweet story.

Taste the wine off your lips by ExNihiIo

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20129245

A light pat lands against his back, and a cup of water is pushed in front of his face. “Not even Zi Shi, and you’re already tipsy?,” asks a teasing voice, while a thin hand puts down the cup. Jiang Cheng coughs a little more, shaking his head, and sends a dirty look at his host. “I am not tipsy.” “Hm, and yet your cheeks are all red. What would your disciples think, if they saw you in this state?” “They’d think about running away while they can. I can break legs more easily than I can drink alcohol.” A smile curves the edges of Nie Huaisang’s mouth, and he closes his fan with a curt jerk, sitting across the table. He’s wearing lighter clothes, Jiang Cheng notices, compared to the ones he had during the Discussion Conference. Where those had been tight and rigid against his body, these now fall softly on him, the large sleeves sweeping delicately as Nie Huaisang moves to pour himself a cup.

I like the melancholy tone of this one.

The light of autumn: you will not be spared by crooows

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19901467/chapters/47138221

Nie Huaisang arrives a week early for the conference which will be held in Yunmeng to discuss the position of chief cultivator.

[Title is from a poem called "October" by Louise Glück!]

A bit funny, a bit melancholy

You can run but you can’t hide by ThirtySixSaveFiles

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21119297

Nie Huaisang has noticed something about the way Jiang Cheng takes compliments; Nie Huaisang has a theory, and he intends to test it out.

Just Huaisang figuring out Jiang Cheng has a praise kink. Established pairing.

Evening Bloom by dragonofeternal

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20958518

Jiang Cheng is spry and lithe well into his twilight years, living well off Wei Wuxian's stolen youth; Nie Huaisang's golden core, on the other hand, has always been poor- he blacks his hair with ink and dyes, hides the pudge of indolence and the wrinkles of age behind the latest fashions and the finest fans. Perhaps for their peers, finding the space to be vulnerable came easy, but for them it's taken this long to maybe think of letting someone in.

I have a big weakness for stories about old people falling in love and this is one delivers very sweetly.

Four Days in Lanling by Halotolerant

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21722695/chapters/51817036

Nie Huaisang looks at him. ‘You are confusing me, Clan Leader Jiang, perhaps I misunderstand, but…’

‘You didn’t misunderstand. You don’t misunderstand. You understand all of it.’ For six months Jiang Cheng has been mulling this over, and now with Nie Huaisang in front of him he can’t figure out if he most wants to knock him down or kneel at his feet. What he does is try and breathe. Clench his hands at his sides. ‘And now I am going to ask you to do something for me. You have to do something for me. You have to help Jin Ling.’

Ok so perhaps it’s misrepresentating to call this a post canon fic  since most of the action is mid-13-years-of-WWX-death but the fairly important framing part is post canon. Also it’s one of the best sangcheng fic out there and a must read.

Shadow eternal by rynleaf

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23162944/chapters/55439032

“You want me to distract the Chief Cultivator from the Annual Cultivation Conference, so you and other sect leaders can… what. Sign contracts without adult supervision?”

“If Jiang-zongzhu is amenable,” Sect Leader Ouyang repeats with a nod.

Jiang Cheng pinches the bridge of his nose. The pressure he felt building behind his eyes all morning is swiftly coalescing into a bitch of a headache. “Just what do you all think I’m capable of?”

Sect Leader Ouyang bows with a cheerful smile. “We have utmost faith in Sandu Shengshou’s abilities.”

-

In which a night hunt ends in disaster, Jiang Cheng catches a glimpse of Nie Huaisang's heart, and feelings are discussed after a certain fashion.

One that’s between sweet and angsty.

The way is shut, and we cannot go back by saltedpin

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23592523

One month since Guanyin Temple, and some people are coping better than others (or not).

This one is a mostly sad and bitter take on Jiang Cheng reacting to Nie Huaisang’s plot (and being very drunk).

Living memory by ghosthouses

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24827980

Once Jin Guangyao has left, he gives himself two indulgences. The first, a day to scream in his rooms made soundproof with a talisman. The second, a physical list written in code, to keep his older self, who will have let the pain dull with time, accountable for what must be done.

It has only two commandments:

He will die.  

and 

He will know.

Nie Huaisang puts it in his sleeve with the intention of keeping it with him at all times, to be added to but never reduced, a living memory of his task.

This and its prequel which you should also read is quite short but probably one of my favorite depictions of their dynamic (and probably one I find most plausible).

What’s Left of us by cangse-sanren

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24979081

“Well,” Huaisang tries hesitantly, “both of us seem to have a rather fraught relationship with things like older brothers and the concept of betrayal. And regret,” he adds as an afterthought. "Perhaps you just understand me more than most."

Yet another that dwells into Jiang Cheng reacting to Nie Huaisang’s plan. I really like that take although it’s barely shippy (and quite short).

Descending by lightningwaltz

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25296595

“I want to… to not be embarrassed.”

“To not be embarrassed during what?”

“During sex.” There. Jiang Cheng can say it. “In general. Also with you right now.”

“Very good.”

“When did you become so authoritative?” Jiang Cheng wants to sound irked, but can’t quite manage anything beyond nervous curiosity.

Very interesting fic and in many ways unusual. I’d say it’s hypnosis kink, but it’s much more character driven than that. With a context of established FWB arrangement between Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang.

Tell him that I miss our little talks by xiaolongbaobei

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25232023

the post-canon fic where Jiang Cheng becomes the Chief Cultivator, realizes that it's not too late to fall in love and learns to ask for what he wants

Longish fic exploring Jiang Cheng as Chief cultivator working with Nie Huaisang and slowly falling in love with him. I adore this one, and not only because I love fics that explore the idea of Jiang Cheng as chief cultivator.

Blind for Love by manamune

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25760272

Jiang Cheng is poisoned with an aphrodisiac and needs to orgasm repeatedly in order to flush it from his system.

The first person he thinks of going to for help is Nie Huaisang, who does what any good friend would do: he shoves his three decades worth of feelings for Jiang Cheng deep into the recesses of his mind, locks them up so he can pretend they don’t exist, and then fucks him so hard that he passes out.

Mostly a long smutty piece, but with a lot of fun character bits along the way.

A Tight-Knit Family by aldalin

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25500481/chapters/61862899

“Jing Ling, we need to talk.”

Jin Ling has too many uncles, and he’s about to get another.

Sect Leader Jiang announces his marriage to Sect Leader Nie.

A fairly different take, more focused on Jin Ling and Wei Wuxian reacting to Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang’s relationship.

A trip to Qinghe by Scorpiwriting

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26974741

An unexpected hunt forces Jiang Cheng to leave the Lotus Pier a bit earlier than he had anticipated, so he decides to send Jin Ling to Qinghe, for the sake of not sending him back to Lanling so soon: it turns into a learning experience for the young sect leader, who gets to peek into the life of the Headshaker.

or.

Jin Ling learns that not everything people say is true and that perhaps there is some merit to art. He also learns that loneliness is a dark beast and that his uncle should definitely do something about it.

Another one more focused on Jin Ling’s reaction to it. Honestly more of a gen piece about Jin Ling and Nie Huaisang, but an interesting one.

Silver bracelets on their wrists by mercurious

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25797715

“Can’t I find excuses to visit an old friend?”

Ok so this one is a bit fucked up in interesting ways. It combines Chief Cultivator Jiang Cheng and explicit longing about Wei Wuxian, and BDSM as catharsis. It’s a fascinating piece.

Welcome to love by amphigoric

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22412866/chapters/53549794

Desire, Jiang Cheng learned, flourished even in love’s absence. It surged hot and fast through his veins at the sight of Nie Huaisang’s spread thighs, marks still lingering from the last rendezvous they had. He felt it burning through his chest as Huaisang raked lines down his back, breaths coming in short, desperate gasps: “Jiang Wanyin, Jiang Wanyin, please, please.”

It’s a little bit clumsy at times, but also very passionate and intense in a way I still find compelling. Featuring a lot of self sabotaging Jiang Cheng.

When your stitch comes loose by heyninja

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27868454/chapters/68234434

Sometimes people see you for who you really are. Sometimes because you let them. Sometimes whether you like it or not.

A triptych of collisions between Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng.

Only the last part is post canon but it’s the most important part, isn’t it?

Peel your heart like a pomegranate by Izumi_silverleaf

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29458974

"It's an extraordinary feeling when parts of your body are touched for the first time. I'm thinking of the sensations from sex and surgery."

Sometimes you just need to read a very hot guro fic. It’s a weird fic but it’s a cool one.

If you give a Nie a cushion by LesbianLazerOwl

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29470236

Prompt: Long enough After Canon that everyone's mostly okay these days, Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang get drunk and wind up comparing masturbation habits; each is aghast at how the other spends their personal time.

Funny and hot

To Distraction by isozyme

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27763816

It’s the third night of Yunmeng’s kite festival celebrations. Nie Huaisang has come visiting, eager to partake in the food, the arts, and Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng wants to forget. Nie Huaisang has some new lube and wants to see if he can put his whole fist in somebody’s ass.

Established pairing in which Nie Huaisang fists Jiang Cheng. It’s hot.

Safe in Your arms by Dragon_scribe

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30070503/chapters/74058315

In the aftermath of a night hunt gone (very) wrong, Jiang Cheng wakes up to find himself in the Unclean Realm. As he recovers from his injuries, he and Nie Huaisang grow closer and as time passes, their friendship begins to shift to something more.

Very sweet/sappy and hurt/comfort orientated, with a small bit of reconciliation dimension too.

[reytaliation]

「 waste of a lovely night. — bakugou katsuki 」

‣ genre — fluff, hogwarts au

‣ w.c — 1,5k

‣ warning — explicit language

‣ synopsis — katsuki hates you for the long time feud between your families. he hates you more now that you didn’t dance with him at the yule ball. 

‣ note — this piece has been modified from one of my writings on my main blog; if you find it familiar, this is probably why. 

only the celestial bodies above can know how melancholy katsuki is. but he’s met with a sky without stars tonight. 

with his head on his elbows, lips pressed into a straight, his gaze falls from the endless canvas of darkness to the hustle and bustle of students leaving the great hall to head back to their designated dormitories. an irritated sigh. he definitely doesn’t need to know what they’re going to do for the after-party. denki used to show him an article on this peculiar machine called ‘a laptop’ that the more you sigh, the faster you age. if you keep doing shit like this to him, he’s gonna be all old and wrinkly by the time you come here. 

if you’re going to show up at all that is. 

the moment he peels his eyes away from the overcrowded main gate, a figure is shuffling themselves through their drunk quidditch teammates, sloppy couples, and burnt out professors. they dash through the empty hallways to reach the spiral staircase, skipping three steps at a time, risking the chances of falling on their face just to get to him. 

pulling yourself to a halt at the last step, you see katsuki all curled up against the balcony railings and feel a pang of guilt wash over his innards like a wave. he’s pulling your legs toward his chest, defeated eyes gazing into the space ahead while his hair falls to his face messily. like he’s gone through the depths of the fourth dimension, struggling through dark matters and a rite of divinity at the end of the line. all for you. 

he’s beautiful. 

and the amount of affection that’s piling upon your rib cage? astronomical. 

his gaze is averted away; even with a slight scowl, sloppy clothes and messed up hair, katsuki still flares radiance. you think that if a meteor shower is happening right now, he can still outshine it. “you fucking came,” he mentions coldly. 

shit. he’s a lot less scary when he’s shouting and cursing at me. 

for once, you find yourself at a loss for words. “y-yeah,” you manage to swallow. yeah? what the fuck, y/n? is that all you’ve got to say?

“i-i’m sorry, katsuki. shoto accidentally mistook one of momo’s potions for his allergy medicine so i had to take care of that before coming,” you scratch your forearm awkwardly, head hung low with guilt. “i didn’t know it would take that long…”

katsuki pushes himself up, eyes rolling to the moon. “you were too busy taking care of icy hot that you forgot about your dance partner? the champions of the tournament were supposed to be there for the first dance, you dumbass.” 

wow, jealousy stinks, he chuckles internally. how old is he? three? 

“oh don’t even pretend that you wanted to be there for the first dance,” you huff in disbelief. 

he tilts his head, smirking. “and you couldn’t find yourself a proper partner.”

“i did, and i’m afraid he owes me something.” a slow smile begins to outstretch upon your facial muscles. “a dance, i believe,” you make a thinking face while striding toward him. 

coldly, katsuki yanks his tie loose. “i fucking beg to differ.” he’s not having it, you can tell. but will you ever give up? 

“a bet is a bet, katsuki.”

your hand fishes inside the pocket of your trench coat to take out your wand. your hand delicately gives it a swift flick; once, and twice followed by a low mumble from your lips. immediately, light pulses from the tip of the wand before shooting upward, disintegrating into a million bits as though a starry night is embracing the both of you. you repeat the same action again to cast a different spell. music laces through every fiber of air without effort, like honey being poured into your ears. 

“it’s just one bet,” you pout with a hand fully extended toward him. 

you should have realized how good katsuki looks tonight. a black dress shirt that’s buttoned below appropriate, matching trench coat, silver accessories lining his fingers and ears with naturally tousled hair. he looks so gorgeous that it almost suffocates you, that it almost makes you want to hiss ‘fucking unfair’ out loud. 

enchanted by his poise and grace, your body reacts without the consent of your mind. you seize up when you unknowingly place your hand on top of his, the touch sending electricity down his spine. a simple response has become all too complicated for his brain to process. 

you grow breathless the moment he grabs you by the waist and pulls you flush against him. “let’s get this shit over with, i’m tired,” katsuki remarks sarcastically to ease his nerves. 

“look, it’s not my fault that the goblet of fire chose me to participate in the tournament,” you chuckle lowly, eyes crinkling into crescent moon shapes while he sways you to the soft melody. dots of light continue to float around weightlessly, reflecting the golden flecks in his eyes. he’s ethereal in the worst way—the way that isn’t healthy for your heart. 

katsuki soon slaps on another scowl when he realizes you just reminded him of why he’s even here in the first place. if only he weren’t so salty about slytherin winning his team over at the final quidditch match before the holiday occurs. let’s just say he wasn’t exactly in the best state of mind after getting his ass kicked in his favorite sport. 

and you wasted no time to slip in between the line of comical humor and his ultimate torment. which results in—if katsuki gets to attend the triwizard tournament , you will leave him alone for the rest of his life; but if you are the chosen one, you get a dance with him at the yule ball. 

it’s really not all that bad if you think twice about it. dancing with bakugou katsuki, the gryffindor’s quidditch team captain, the student with perfect academics and (almost perfect) conduct for six years straight.

music threads through the atmosphere and lifts away gravity. you can’t count how many times you have stepped on his toes due to nervousness because you’re too much of a coward to look him in the eye. but he’s the only thing you can seem to focus on right now. 

“also, don’t you think this is a good opportunity to get rid of the tension between us?” you ask honestly, and this causes him to perk up. 

“what the fuck are you going on about?”

lights are twinkling with every step as katsuki spins you around gently, your dress billowing out prettily as your heels click against the cold concrete. after that, he swiftly pulls you back into his arms and you exhale in relief like you were meant to be there all this time. 

“don’t play dumb, you’re terrible at it. i know the only reason why you’ve been avoiding me since first year was because of our families’ stupid grudge. ”

his eyes are cast downward for a moment, his tone grows serious. “either way, my old geezers wouldn’t like to see me talking to you. and look at what we’re doing. we’re both fucked if they found out.”

“well, they can’t just magically appear now, can they?” you lean a little closer to lock your eyes with his. 

and katsuki breaks it seconds later. “we’re attending a magic school for fuck’s sake. anything is possible.”

“did they even tell you what the actual problem was in the first place?” you huff out in faint annoyance. 

he snorts audibly. “let me humor you. i don’t think they’d even remember.”

“then would you stop giving me that look as if i just shooed your owl way every time i said ‘hi’ on my way to class? have you ever thought about my feelings? about us being civil for once? like friends? or even more so?”

“fucking hell-“ 

his heart becomes all erratic at your words. it’s nothing like those fully-fledged, tear-jerking nor cheesyass confessions that he’s gawked at one too many times, but it makes his heart flutter and stirs up those cliché butterflies inside his stomach. this can’t be compared to the yule ball—it’s even better than that. because it feels as though you and him are the only presences that graze the surface of this land. there’s no one to judge, no fingers to point, no gossip spreading like wildfire. 

it’s perfect. almost. 

“whatever you’re planning for us, it’s not gonna fucking happen. it’s not supposed to happen. it’s not possible, y/n.”

wordlessly, you stop, move both of his hands to your torso, and wrap your arms around his neck. the sound of your heartbeat against his is so in sync they just drown out the music completely. time is frozen in place, leaving him to hang on the edge with you, hanging onto this single moment as thin as the red string of fate. he’s waiting for you to do something, say something. 

just then, you crack a wry smile and pull him closer by the nape of his neck, resting your forehead comfortably on his. 

“we’re attending a magic school. anything is possible.”

[nadiaportia]

Tarántula

Summary: The new Devil receives a visit from someone from a life that feels like it ended an eternity ago.

Word count: ~4,5k

Because I am a sucker for the reversed routes, of course Lucio’s reversed ending gave me fuel to write down something that could happen at the end of my (still-ongoing) route rewrite. As if this part of a reversed route, it will featured a Devil!MC so if that’s not up your alley, keep on scrolling.

To all others, enjoy 💓

The Devil, or rather the part of the Devil deep down that was still Ximena Rubalcaba y Saavedra, felt the presence of a familiar spirit before being alerted by one of the Wayward Souls of a foreign - a human - soul in its mistress’ realm. 

She turned her attention from her pondering on how to proceed with the Prakran resistance led by former Countess, now again Princess, Nadia Satrinava and her sisters when she remembered a face, slender, unblemished light brown skin, a charming smile with impeccable white teeth, shimmering dark eyes, framed by wavy dark reddish-brown hair.

An impulse was sent to her from the guardian of her Gate.

Step aside, sentinel. Let our guest enter.

As you desire, Mistress.

It didn’t take much for the sound of footsteps to echo through the corridors of the otherwise silent Devil’s Castle, where no mortal soul but one dared to walk through. 

The clicking of heels on the floor came closer and when the door to the throne room opened, a slender figure entered, dressed in a red so dark a human would have probably mistaken it for black. Silver adorned their neck and shoulders and they took a good look at their surroundings before slowly walking closer to the throne.

“I don’t know what I expected… but it wasn’t this.”

It has been a very long time, or at least felt like one, since she last heard someone speak Calpacian, even as it was the lingua franca of the West, few of its native speakers travelled far these days and those that did were of too little importance to be worth watching.

“What are you doing here?”

Heloisa de Rubalcaba stopped as if it was the first time she had heard the voice; in a certain way, it had to be a novelty to her. Lucio had told the Devil that her voice sounded different than before - back when she had only been a weak and feeble mortal. Now it was steely, sharp and commanding. It wasn’t the voice of someone who could simply be disobeyed.

The glint in her visitor’s brown eyes was something that recalled vague emotions, of evenings spent in houses made of glass, of drinking wine in silver halls and sharp jokes at the expense of the unfortunate souls that hadn’t earned any respect yet.

“Is visiting my little sister a crime these days? Are these the rules of the Vesuvian Empire or of the Devil’s Realm?”

“Answer my question.”

The Devil observed Heloisa with a cool gaze.

She hadn’t changed much in the last three years since the Devil had last seen her, age barely left a mark on her as the years - or what was more likely, she was just exceptionally good at hiding it. Upon looking closely the crow’s feet around her eyes had spread a little further, and the lines on her face were concealed well… but not well enough for the Devil’s eyes. 

The Devil didn’t age; she still looked exactly the same as she did on the day the mortal that was before had been so very close to dying, had it not been for the Cold Heart that was now beating in her chest. 

There had been some modifications on her, yes, such as the grey patches of her hair that had turned a stark white and the light grey streaks were among her black curls. Then there were the cloven hooves, the horns that were now spouting from her head and what was surprisingly enough the most unsettling: the golden eyes with a black sclera. 

After some time of getting used to it the part of her that still clung onto her humanity as fiercely as a frightened child to its mother had accepted the changes as something natural that couldn’t be reversed anymore.

“It is very much the truth. How could I possibly have ulterior motives than simply stopping by for a simple ‘Hello’.”

“I mustn’t remind you how our last encounter ended.”

Heloisa pursed her lips.

“And here I thought your ascension to godhood would make you any less prone to bearing grudges! Some things never change. If you want an apology from me, you can have it, but I’m genuinely surprised to see you still care about that little stunt. After all, shouldn’t you be long above that? Above all mortal affairs from back then?”

The Devil gave her a bored look and put her arms on the rests to each side of her throne.

“You’re correct - I don’t have it within me to care about the past. Who showed you the way to my realm?”

Heloisa stepped closer, pretending to casually watch her long nails as she did so.

“A little bird came to me and chirped in front of my window, of ways to enter the magical realms. Now, that little bird had less than good intentions and probably believes I won’t return from my journey, but I intend on disappointing them. If they wouldn’t be a cold-hearted bastard who cares for none other than themselves, one might say they resent you for turning their relatively laissez-faire boss into minced goat meat.”

“Valdemar. A surprise that one such as you who prides herself on her cunning, would make a deal with a Demon.” There was a hint of amusement in the Devil’s voice. Heloisa scoffed.

“Oh please, of course I didn’t. They gave me what I wanted for free; it wouldn’t surprise me if they’re lurking somewhere here and hoping for some chaos to be unleashed.”

“Surely not. I would’ve noticed a presence like that once it enters my borders.”

Heloisa grinned. “Running a tight ship I see. I have a lot of respect for that. You really turned that shithole Vesuvia into a respectable city-state, even Nadia couldn’t accomplish this.” She paused. “Talking about Vesuvia… where’s whatshisname? Y’know, your guy… your personal warmonger? Plaything? Roué?”

“My husband is—” The Devil began but Heloisa broke into roaring laughter that pearled off the walls and rang through her ears. 

She had never liked that laugh a lot but now she felt as if it had desecrated something in her Castle.

“Your husband?” She said in between laughs. “Oh, you have got to be joking! Really, him? And you guys had a ceremony here? Who were your witnesses, the sentinel that led me to the castle?” She wiped a non-existent tear from the corner of her eye but was still grinning broadly. “Oh, how I wish you were lying but I can tell by your face it’s the sad truth. Well, not a surprise but still unwelcome.”

The Devil drummed onto the armrest of her throne with her long dark clawed fingers. Her voice was so sharp it could’ve cut through marble and she had an unamused quirk in her brow.

“...As I was saying, my husband is currently in Firent negotiating with the Papess about her terms of surrender. After that he will return to Prakra to finish this senseless siege. And his name is Lucio — treat him with the respect deserving of a powerful monarch.”

Heloisa scoffed. “What do you want to do, force me to like him?”

“Remember, you are only a guest because I’m allowing it.”

For a few heartbeats there was silence in the throne room. Then Heloisa clapped her hands.

“Anyway, my most earnest congratulations. I hope he makes you happy in whichever way, assuming you still are capable of such mortal emotions,” She shook her head, still smiling. “For fuck’s sake, first Bela, now you, I really am the eternal bachelorette among us. I don’t understand the sentiment of wanting to tie yourself to a person, especially if that person is — just stating a fact here — not on your level. Y’know, Ippolita tried to convince me a couple of times, especially during my house arrest, that we could run off together, take a ship at the port, sailing away into the sunset and never look ba—”

“Don’t waste my time with your personal affairs.” She remembered Ippolita — a skilled warrior, loyal servant to Grand General Esmerelda Rubalcaba and the only one among Heloisa’s many lovers who had remained by her side after years, but their relationship never something out in the open; a high-born noble and a simple foreign commoner who survived in the pits by becoming an assassin was simply not the ideal relationship to be in for someone of Heloisa’s status. “You’re not here just to chat, so get to the point.”

Heloisa regarded the Devil of whom she still thought wholly as her sister and cleared her throat.

“Fine. Since you mentioned Prakra and I happen to have,”, the corners of her mouth twitched, “heard of the difficulties your, ah, ‘husband’ has with securing a victory over the Satrinavas and their remaining hosts… I have a proposal to make.” 

The Devil leaned forward on steepled fingers. She had a suspicion as to where this could be going.

“Go on. I am listening.”

“Alright, so we know that dearest Nadia and her sisters are still holding the territory around and of the Star Lakes. The capital of Prakra not only is quite beautiful but also one of the strongest fortresses due to its location, which at the same time could become its undoing. But this isn’t about breaking through their defenses, with the Prakran Royal Fleet scourging the waters an attack from your troops is virtually impossible unless you happen to bring ships or heavy artillery with you… or are currently building them.”

The Devil scoffed in annoyance. Of course she knew why exactly the situation at the Star Lakes was so bothersome, easy on the surface, nasty underneath it. 

Whenever Lucio returned from Prakra to her, he was particularly agitated and prone to irritation, at times ranting to her extensively about everything that was going wrong in this particular campaign. 

Her own frustration came mostly from having actual trouble with getting past the magical and alchemical defenses, and she knew exactly why. The amount of times the Devil had cursed the name of Sayelle bint Zahir were too many to be counted at this point, and what stung even deeper that this came from someone who had been more than a simple ally to her in a previous life — a friend, maybe one of her best.

“It’s about breaking their spirits, their composure, y’know, engaging in a little bit of my preferred form of warfare: the psychological type,” Heloisa gave her a confident grin. “Your beau cannot get to the capital, but you need someone behind enemy lines who is able to get you insider knowledge or even,” her grin grew wider, “gain the Satrinavas’ trust.”

The Devil stared at Heloisa, then she chuckled. “Nadia will kill you on sight.” 

It was a futile plan, soaked in Heloisa’s hubris and plagued by underestimating how smart the Satrinavas were, how powerful a magician Sayelle was, how united the Prakrans as a whole were in their opposition to the Vesuvians.

“No, she won’t. We have a history.”

“Yes, the history of you wanting to merge the mortal and magical realms so the Devil could help you with getting rid of Esmerelda. That is exactly why she would not hear you out.” The Devil’s lips curved into a deep frown. It was near certain suicide.

“I mean, yes, that obviously happened as well but it’s basically common knowledge that they’re sitting ducks and as such desperately in need of help. I have aided Nadia once already, back when the Plague was running amok through Vesuvia. Even when I was helping the previous Devil I told her I would put in a good word for her. She is aware of that and my immense dislike for Lucio,” she paused and sneered, “... who by all means is my brother-in-law and family now. By the way, do you want me to tell that to the others, or would you rather be the bearer of good news at some point?”

The Devil ignored the last statement and sighed deeply. “They would take any help that is offered to them, that’s what you think. Even if this helping hand is attached to your body.”

“Of course. I am known for my generosity after all, and of course for my lack of interest in war — you can thank me for building that reputation for the last fourteen years after you made everything go tits up.” Her tone was joking but the edge to it spoke differently. There was a fire smoldering deep within Heloisa, and the Devil made sure to not forget about its existence.

“Besides… I wasn't the Information Minister for nothing — I know what people respond most easily, and given their situation this will be more than easy pickings. Give me a handful of people who hand out flyers, have someone convince the Prakrans that if they surrender the bloodshed will stop, and you have basically won. ‘Thank you so much for your wisdom, Heloisa, most beloved of my sisters!’ ‘You’re more than welcome, Ximena.’” 

The Devil didn’t reply like this. Instead she said, “I will stop the bloodshed as soon as Queen Nasrin surrenders. I wish to have Nafizah and especially Nadia as allies, not enemies. It is a shame indeed things came to be this way but there is a future for the Vesuvian-Prakran relations.”

Heloisa’s eyebrows shot upwards. “Even after you led an unprovoked war against them? I don’t mean to rain on that parade you have surely already planned all the way through, but if Nadia intends to fight until the very end… I don’t think a surrender is an option. Better to install a new Prakran ruler, one who is sympathetic to Vesuvia.”

The Devil considered her words and found herself agreeing with them begrudgingly. It was probably true; Nadia’s hatred for her, the perceived betrayal and the losses on her side weighed heavily but it was rather that she didn’t wish to take extreme measures against her. She was smart, politically adept, brave and a genuinely caring ruler - useful qualities to have in a human ally.

“No. Nadia will see reason, she has to.”

Heloisa rubbed her temples. “Do you want to her to adopt your way of seeing the world with a sword at her throat? Word of advice: that rarely works ever.”

The Devil scoffed. 

“But if you have a better strategy of how to beat the Satrinavas, I am all ears. If you’re worried about my safety,”, she put a hand over her heart, “which I would consider quite heartwarming, I wouldn’t even need to go by myself but for the sake of authenticity, it’d be for the worst — but don’t worry,” Heloisa winked, “I know how to take care of myself.”

There was something about blood relations that had always dimmed her perceptiveness as a mortal; it worked well enough on people in general given they had a rudimentary knowledge in magic, could be difficult if the subject had enough magical affinity and was near impossible on trained magicians and of course on residents of the magical realms. 

Now that she was more powerful, looking into the hearts and minds of the residents of the mortal realms came as easy to her as breathing came to them. That powerful magicians such as Sayelle or even Asra were able to hide themselves without great troubles was bothersome but barely a surprise. 

But Heloisa, who was about as magically adept as a houseplant, was a complete blank slate to her — she could sense her life force, her aura fitting for someone with a strong personality and much subdued her feelings, but what really mattered to her, the notion of her true intentions… It was like standing in front of a polished mirror.

It was forcing her to act according to knowledge of their time as sisters… something she would’ve preferred to avoid completely. 

The only person she allowed her humanity to resurface with was Lucio… and he was who he was.

“Hm. I will give the matter thought.” She leaned forwards. “Something tells me that this still isn’t all you’re here for.”

Heloisa let out a defeated dramatic sigh. “You caught me red-handed. That was only the first matter why I am here. Consider it an olive branch, a token of forgiveness and potential allyship between us, Ximenita.”

The nickname out of her mouth made the Devil frown. Not only was she the first human besides Lucio to laugh here but also the one to address her as… something so much lesser. He was allowed to do that, and no one else. 

For a moment, the Devil considered reminding Heloisa who exactly she was talking to, but she halted before she acted rashly. 

She had always been vindictive and resentful, never forgetting injury to her person of any sort. It would… be an easy way to let grievances fester, and at this very moment that was more than counterproductive.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Speak.”

“What are your plans for Calpacia, specifically? I wonder why the Army of the Vesuvian Empire isn’t already at our borders, demanding our surrender. Hjalle and Nevivon were the first to fall, then Zadith and Venterre and yet there are none of your men - because they are your men, I know that - are to be seen near Calpacia, or Karnassos for that matter because you know that if you attack Karnassos you will feel Calpacia’s wrath.”

Heloisa tilted her head and regarded her with an inquisitive look. The quirk in her eyebrow betrayed her though, it was meant to be a dig.

“Are you afraid of facing your past or simply too nostalgic to see us being destroyed?”

The Devil’s eyes widened but she bit down her fury. I have no reason to be scared of you.

“I do know that our magical defenses are strong, you know better than I how exactly the Guild worked but ever since it was overtaken by these zealots, the Court is counting themselves very lucky it is strong enough a pillar to not be swept to the side by them, in no small part due to our strengthening influence. If we weren’t there, you might have a very unpredictable enemy at your hands. But that doesn’t explain your lack of interest in us.”

Heloisa laughed, and the light sound pierced through the Devil’s ears. 

“Unless all of this hard work is meant for us. Is that the case?”

The Devil raised herself from her throne and looked at Heloisa down her nose. She let her take a look at the new ruler of this realm and how much she has changed.

“You give yourself too much credit. My vision is greater than seeing Cartagenth together with its repulsive ruling body and the Zaan burn to the ground.”

“Do tell me though what exactly your vision consists of; uniting the entire world under your Vesuvian Empire so no one steps out of line ever? This reminds me of the plan someone once wanted to hatch, I can’t for the life of me remember who had that idea but I remember a certain young woman being so utterly displeased with that she preferred exile to being around her vicious family.”

Heloisa’s smile was more a baring of teeth now than anything else.

“Where is she now? Does she still have the moral high ground? Does she still feel like a good person who is so much better than her sisters?”

The Devil ground her teeth. She felt her face and ears heat up and could only hope that the red lighting of the throne room worked in her benefit.

“If I had known that one day you’d be exactly what you tried to oppose back then, I would’ve laughed right in your face and told you to get fucked,” she sneered and gave her a look of pure contempt. “You got some nerve to throw us, your family, to the wolves without a second thought, and not twelve years later you are doing the exact same shit you hated us for ever since. How does it feel, knowing that at the end of the day, you’re just like us?”

The Devil closed her eyes. She wouldn’t let herself be provoked by Heloisa, after all she was so very wrong with everything she was saying.

“All of this business with the previous Devil happened because the construction of the realms was fundamentally flawed. I intend on setting things right for once and all under one ruler so that it will not happen again. How I go about that is not of importance to you.”

“It sure as hell is, after all I have a place in this world as well!,” Heloisa exclaimed. In her agitation she stood only ten feet away from her, too close of the Devil’s liking. 

 “You replaced the Devil after allegedly saving the world from certain destruction and now that you settled, you decide to do just continue his work — except that you think of yourself in the right, as some sort of god-empress or whatever the fuck. But I will tell what you are: you’re just as rotten, self-serving and power-hungry as us,” She laughed, humourless and cold. “No, you’re even worse because you’re also a self-righteous hypocritical piece of shit. You might be even worse than Esmé.”

“Don’t you ever compare me to Esmé!” 

The Devil’s voice cracked like a whip and rumbled louder than ever before. Her face was a furious grimace so terrifying Heloisa had to advert her eyes, eyes glowing, long hair billowing and floating around her, and feeling its mistress’ fury, the realm let lightning flash and thunder roar. 

And yet, Heloisa did little more than keep her eyes shut, her face away from the demonstration of absolute arcane power and stand planted on the spot, her delicate hands balled into tight fists and her body trembling, either out of fury or fear. 

The Devil took a deep breath through her nose, taking in the sulphur-stained air of her realm. As she continued breathing, her fury left her body and she felt the Cold Heart within her slow down its enraged pace.

“It’d be for the best if you leave right now. Don’t test my patience and don’t think of coming back. You’re not welcome in this Realm for as long as I have the say in here.”

Heloisa turned to look at the Devil, tears dwelling in her eyes and a very faint but visible enough drop of blood trailing out of her nose. She dabbed at it, grimaced at its sight and wiped it off with the back of her hand. 

“Before I forcibly make you leave.”

“Give me two more minutes of your time; you haven’t listened to my actual proposal. Then I’m gone, unless you want me to come back afterwards.” She cleared her throat and tried to regain her composure.

There was nothing more the Devil wanted to do than throw her back into the mortal realms and hopefully into the deepest and darkest pit that could be found there. But she gave Heloisa de Rubalcaba a small nod. Two minutes, nothing more.

“I sympathize with your course of actions, I really do. If I were you, I personally would have rained fire, brimstone and bloody vengeance on Calpacia, everyone who had wronged me and especially Tía Esmé, both out of spite and to rid the world of her, and in the aftermath leave nothing behind but scorched and salted earth. But this is my nature, not yours. That’s why I’m giving you an alternative course of action.”

She hesitated but then approached the throne over the steps. 

“I have many allies at the Court, I’m in the Zaan Saturnino’s favour, Cibela has been just a few steps away from open rebellion against Tía Esmé and to be frank, everyone is tired of the current situation. On paper you are disowned and exiled but in reality and despite everything, you are still Ximena de Rubalcaba, third in the line of succession of the title, and the Court knows that. There are people who would give you actual loyalty for who you are, not because they were forced to kiss the ring on a foreign conqueror’s hand.” With each step Heloisa seemed to gain confidence, until she stood just three feet in front of the throne.

Ximena had almost forgotten how small she was able to look.

“Let me be your agent in Cartagenth and I will give you our home as a gift of reconciliation and a token of my loyalty for you.”

She sighed. The Devil didn’t react, and was careful not to. This is a trick.

“What about the part of me being a ‘self-righteous hypocritical piece of shit’? Are these the words of a loyal vassal?”

Heloisa scoffed and a nervous smile played around her lips. “Of course not; they’re sisterly advice. If you can’t stomach honesty, then that’s your business. If you want to pay me back, come up with an insult on your own though.”

“Why reconciliation?”

Heloisa blinked at the question. “Because,” she began slowly. “I was hoping…” She fidgeted with her fingers, something she never did because a Rubalcaba never showed uncertainty to anyone.

“I thought it would be nice if there was a chance that we could be… sisters once again.”

Something within the Devil stirred and she frowned.

“That is a bridge burned a long time ago,” she stated quietly. It had been for the best, for her own best.

“It doesn’t need to. I can only imagine how lonely you are - because I have been too. Don’t you think I missed having you around? Someone in this pit of vipers that is Cartagenth I can trust in, not solely bound by blood but by genuine familial love and despite our differences.”

The Devil tried to find any hint of a lie in Heloisa’s eyes, eyes that looked so much like hers back when she was a mortal, and there was… nothing. No deception, no falsehoods, but a definite truth.

“I wish to help you, dearest Xime. I understand why you might seek havoc and destruction, the gods know that lashing out at this world and all its obstacles is something I have always done in my own way, but I want to make things easier for you. I know you wish to convince your enemies to become allies before anything and that waging a war of conquest is not your ideal vision… so I’m sparing you any guilt you might have over more shed blood that didn’t need to be spilled.”

She sighed. “I will be leaving for Prakra within the next few days, whether you want me to or not, with a small entourage. I will find a way to contact the Vesuvians or you once I am in the Satrinava castle.”

“I have not yet accepted your proposal.”

“Oh, I don’t need you to. Consider it a show of good faith.” She reached out, with her brows furrowed and gently touched her shoulder. The Devil remained where she was, showing no reaction to the first skin contact with another human who wasn’t her lover in years.

“Until then, sweet sister.” Heloisa leaned forwards, her perfume smelt of almond, bergamot, coffee and lemon. She pressed a gentle kiss on her cheek and the moment her soft lips made contact, it was as if a small shock of magic burned her skin. 

She was the Devil and this burning fire within her that was the yearning for a humanity that had once been bothered her. It could make her vulnerable, allow others to deceive her.

It was not something she could allow to persist within her. 

[my-soul-sings]

This Is Everything I Never Wanted: Chapter 1

Fandom: Wannabe Challenge Characters: Everyone! Mainly Taehee VS. Yooha (but not TaeheexYooha) because I’m here for the drama and tea  👀☕️ 

Summary: An alternative account of events in which Taehee was the one who summoned Yooha from the scroll instead of MC.

A/N: I live for Taehee and Yooha's brawling in the game. This idea popped into my head last night and I went ham on it, enjoy this crack-fic, I hope it makes you smile/laugh. :)

Now up on AO3!

***

It all started the day Biho came home with a scroll painting. Frankly, it looked weird. There was a man with long, silver hair on it, and Taehee didn’t like the weird aura coming from the scroll. Or maybe it was just the man’s face he didn’t like. Something about it pissed him off—probably that annoying, arrogant smirk on his face. 

But Taehee couldn’t object to Biho hanging it up on the wall in the living room, especially not when he looked so mesmerised by the picture of the sea in the background. The younger man had always been fascinated by the sea, so Taehee decided to leave it alone. MC also seemed to like it too, and if the house owner herself had no complaints, who was he to protest? 

On hindsight, he should have said something. Insisted on his way—something he rarely did and would probably be easily forgiven for.

At first, Taehee kept noticing the painting, unnerved by the feeling that the man’s eyes were following him, watching his every move. He swore it wasn’t his own imagination, and he felt goosebumps rise on his skin whenever he walked past it. He couldn’t ask Biho to put it in his own room though; the wall in their room already looked messy enough because of Hansol, who had a compulsive need to buy posters of his favourite musicians. 

With little options at his disposal, Taehee tried to brush it off. Ignore it, pretend it wasn’t there. 

It took a few days, but soon enough he practically forgot that the painting even existed, for the most part. And life went on, as per normal.

That is, until Cleaning Day.

It was his favourite day of the year, as excruciating as it could get at times. No matter how clear or detailed his instructions were, his housemates never seemed to understand how to clean properly. That, or they simply didn’t care, which Taehee didn’t understand. 

It was easy enough to be patient when it came to MC. After all, she was probably just tired. He could manage doing part of her share of the work.

But Biho and Hansol? Those two hardly ever performed up to par. Hansol would say that he had finished wiping the shelves, and Taehee would swipe a finger on the underside of the wood, and there would be a sheet of dust coating the pad of his finger.

Biho was no better. After making a towering stack of his books and simply leaving them in the corner of the room, he would find a place to sleep, even if it meant hiding under the bed to avoid Taehee’s attention. Or wrath. 

After a full three hours of back-breaking work that day, Taehee had neared his limit. The breaking point came when he just finished washing the toilets, and he arrived in the living room to the sight of all three of his housemates knocked out blissfully on the couch.

“You... haa...” He had no words. He was exhausted too, but the kitchen had yet to be touched. And yet the three of them were already resting as if they had accomplished a lot over the past three hours compared to him. 

In his mind, the list of chores still unfinished gnawed away at the remaining strands of his sanity. That wasn’t even including the things that he’d probably have to re-do, courtesy of his housemates’ terrible cleaning standards. 

The thought of the work left undone was enough to draw another long sigh from him as he deflated a little, a frown appearing on his face. Taking care of his house was a huge weight on his shoulders. In fact, it started getting a little too heavy for his shoulders to bear.

It took Taehee a hot minute to realise that the weight was no longer metaphorical.

“Ew. I’m finally out of the damn scroll after so long and the first thing I see is a guy’s sweaty back? What the hell?”

He heard a foreign voice in his ear. A man’s voice. And then he realised there were arms wrapped around him, as well as a pair of legs and unfamiliar shoes behind him.

Shoes. In the house. That he just mopped. Twice.

Taehee turned around, about to let loose a string of curses at whoever it was, when he realised just what exactly he was looking at. 

It was a man he didn’t know, dressed in some traditional cosplay, his curious grey eyes scanning the house around him. 

Instinctively he jumped back, confused and alarmed by the presence of a stranger whom he didn’t recall letting in. Where could he have come from? The doors had been locked and the windows were open but they certainly weren’t big enough for a man this size to crawl through easily.  

But wait... there was something familiar about him. Taehee couldn’t quite place his finger on it just yet, but he didn’t like the feeling of deja vu washing over him. Or the sense that this guy wasn’t just an ordinary man—if he was even human at all. 

“Hey.” Taehee’s attention snapped to the man who was now looking at him. He bristled, for some reason already disliking the guy and his narrow eyes. 

“Were you the one who summoned me?” the stranger questioned.

“What?” Taehee had to be dreaming. Or hallucinating. Or both. It was probably from being overworked, which he blamed his housemates wholeheartedly for (except for MC). 

"Do you not speak Korean?” the stranger prodded when Taehee went silent for a tad too long.

“O-Of course I do,” he replied, not sure why he felt the need to be polite with this intruder. 

Wait. He didn’t. 

“How did you get in the house? I can call the police on you, this is trespassing.” 

“You’re asking me?” the strange man sputtered, raising his hands. “You’re the one who summoned me! You called my name!” 

He could at least come up with a more reasonable-sounding excuse. Taehee didn’t know who he was, let alone his name, for goodness’ sake. 

“I didn’t call your name. I don’t know who the hell you are, but explain yourself. Who are you and how did you get in here? I’m not joking when I said I will call the police,” Taehee warned, holding up the used toilet brush in his hand as a makeshift weapon. Even if it didn’t do much physical damage it would at least disgust the guy enough to make him go far away.

“Hey, hey, I think there’s been a bit of a misunderstanding here. I, need you, to explain to me where the hell I am. What year is it anyway? You guys have some interesting clothes,” he said, his eyes trailing over to the three sleeping housemates. How they were sleeping through this was beyond Taehee, but he felt alarm bells go off in his head when he noticed the man’s gaze lingering on MC’s sleeping form.

Before he could attack with the toilet brush though, suddenly a blinding white light engulfed the man, and Taehee had to squeeze his eyes shit. 

When he opened them again, the light had vanished and the man now sported a shorter haircut, his silver wavy locks styled in a more modern way. His costume had also disappeared, now replaced by a blue silk shirt, a silver necklace hanging around his neck and a pair of long black slacks. Thankfully, the shoes were gone. 

“There. Much better.” He walked casually over to the television to check out his appearance reflected on the blank screen. “Not bad,” the narcissist muttered to himself.

“What did you just do?”

“Changed into something more appropriate. You sure your brain is alright?”

Taehee ignored the insult. “You still haven’t explained yourself properly.” 

“I told you. You summoned me here by calling my name.”

He was quite persistent with this ridiculous story. Deciding to play along in case he could get more information out of him, Taehee asked, “What’s your name?”

The stranger stared at him like he was stupid, but Taehee maintained his frown long enough that the intruder finally relented begrudgingly with a dragged-out sigh. “It’s Yooha.”

Yoo-ha. Yooha? Taehee didn’t know anyone by that weird name, much less said it out loud for no reason.

Unless...

“You... haa....” 

Could it be... it was all because of that resigned sigh that had escaped his lips when he stepped into the living room just now? 

The realisation struck Taehee like a bucket of ice cold water being poured no him. That counted? Seriously? 

“What’s your name?" Yooha asked. 

“Taehee,” he replied thoughtlessly, before biting down on his tongue. This was hardly the time for introductions. “Now tell me, what are you? Where did you come from?”

In response, Yooha gestured casually to the wall by the television. More specifically, the painting that Biho had bought the other day, except now it looked ostensibly different: 

The man in it was no longer there.

“I was trapped in that painting, but you called my name so I was finally released,” he explained, the nonchalance in his drawl grating on Taehee’s nerves. Was this a joke to him? 

But... the more Taehee thought about it, the more he realised there was no other way to make sense of this bizarre situation. Yooha’s explanation seemed to be the only logical one, even if impossible. Unless, of course, he was dreaming. But a quick pinch to his arm and the sting that followed indicated that he wasn’t, quite unfortunately.

There was a groan, and Taehee glanced in Yooha’s direction. “What.”

“It’s just...” he scratched his head, his face contorting with a perplexed expression. “I’m not happy about this... but since you’re the one who summoned me out of the scroll, I’m now bound to you as a servant.”

“Come again?” Taehee gawked, which earned him an exasperated sigh.

“Of all things, I had to be bound to a mere goblin...” he grumbled to himself. Then, raising his head, he gave Taehee a hard look. “You’re not very smart, are you?”

“I’m a doctor. And wait- are you by any chance... a seon-ho?”

“Finally saying something sensible, are we?” the man scoffed with an eye roll. Taehee had to purse his lips into a thin line to keep from making a sharp remark. There was no need to prove himself to this complete stranger who was now calling him his... servant? The hell?

“So what,” Taehee began, “I’m your... master now?”

“Ugh, it sucks when you say it out loud, but yes. That’s right.” Yooha plopped onto an empty chair, stretching his limbs and settling into a comfortable position. He sort of resembled a cat.

“And who are they?” Yooha jabbed a finger at the pile of sloths as well as MC on the couch, who were still asleep. 

“The people I live with,” Taehee replied, eyes narrowing at him. 

“Three guys and a girl? What’s up with that?” 

“None of your business.”

“Ooh. Master is feisty.” He paused, a devious smirk playing on his lips. “Is it because of the girl?” 

“Shut up,” Taehee snapped quite uncharacteristically. It had been less than fifteen minutes and already this guy was seriously wearing his patience thin. “And stop calling me ‘Master’. It’s gross.”

"Yeah, I will. I almost threw up after saying that.” 

A moment of silence passed, neither knowing what to say. This was a weird situation, to say the least, and Taehee wasn’t sure if he had fully processed it yet. A lot had happened today and he just wanted to take a nice, hot shower and go to bed. Screw dinner, he was too tired to cook. Maybe when he woke up, this would all go away, including this pesky nuisance, and everything would go back to normal. 

“So...” Yooha spoke up, unceremoniously interrupting Taehee’s attempt to comfort himself. “What now?”

Taehee shrugged, but before he could say anything, he heard a voice. 

“Taehee...” MC mumbled. Her sweet voice usually made his heart flutter, but right then, it made his entire body go rigid. 

“Who’s that?” 

[cruecifymesixx]

Love and Leather /part sixxty sixx/

Word Count: 7.7k

A/N: Enjoy! a soft and emotional chapter that is well needed in the saga of Van and Nikki!

Warnings: nothing. maybe a little smuttish?

Taglist: @brideofdraculana , @xstarryeyesx , @aryssav , @miserablecunt , @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol , @fandomshit6000, @anntheboneless@venus-calum​, @justjodeye,  @hi-my-name-is-riley​, @extremesadnerding, @thatbandchick39, @awkwrdcait, @countrygirlswonderland, @awesomealmostdopestudent @romanticvengeance , @tashy-bear, @krazykatkay456, @terror-triplet, @shouttatthedevill @beachystars, @rodriguez025, @kickstart-myheart-sixx, @s-outhie, @anxious-diabetic, @awkwardblackgirls, @rockersbox, @brooklyn-antiques, @shamelessobsessions, @jerseytaint, @lilytalebi, @criminalyetminimal, @motley-queen, @trapt-in-a-dream, @lunamadhatter99, @broke-n-bitchy @thanks2pete, @slowandangry, @lovesick-heart0, @keepcalm-and-beyou, @miriampraez, @teenwolflover28, @lilyhw1 @motherloovebone, @random-internet-user-4471, @falcon-arrows, @talranocchia2001, @wheresmyvodkabitch, @waywardprincess666, @iluvmesomemarvelndc, @zoenicoles, @vamprlestat, @supersoldierballerina, @primal-screamer @electradestiny, @marshbev, @n0-sh0rtage-0f-faults, @cruebaby, @ggorehorror, @valentines-in-london, @miss2001babe, @nassauartist , @cmft-jr-winchester, @bokkie92, @notworthyofyou1120 @xrosegoldwolfx, @lauravic, @mgkobsessed, @chaoticvybe @kellysimagines @thoughtsoftheantagonist @marvelismylifffe,  @sleepyjunhong @lovemythsworld @meetthesixxter @sparxx27 @gingerspicetalks @kaitieskidmore1 @unknownoblivion @siliwanoel @nevergoodenuffbutokaaayyy @sublimeprincesswasteland @kylieinwonderland @haileynicoleseavey17 @lavendersoundbarrier @ijustwanttokiss70srogertaylor, @duffshairdye, @xpoisonousrosesx, @m0rnlngstar, @cranberrirolls, @oskea93, @love-struck-aries, @idumpyourgrass, @minxtruck, @i-want-to-shoot-myself, @cruesixxlover1991​, @arianareirg,, @fentitrbl, @dogmom2014, @sinningsixx, @motleycrueprincess

-June 27th, 1995-

The sound of dings and pings of carnival games, the laughter from children and adults alike surrounded the dysfunctional family. The sweet delicious smells of freshly dipped caramel apples, kettle corn and cotton candy flew through the air. It was a whole other world that was found completely within the confines of the city that never sleeps.

The anti hero and sometimes hero of this story walked side by side of our princess. They watched as Arianna ran around in front of them, but she knew better and still stuck close to both of her parents. It was the last family outing for a few weeks while Nikki returned back home to California to tie up a few loose strings. He had suggested a day spent at Coney Island even if Arianna wasn’t tall enough to ride most of the rides. For the first time in a long time, the two actually agreed on something.

Nikki glanced over at Vanity, who had a smile on her face as Arianna dragged her over to every game stand in an attempt to win a giant stuffed animal. She seemed happy to him.

Of course, being the man he is, his eyes wandered down the contour of Vanity’s body. She was wearing a cute little red sun dress with yellow flowers on it, it hugged her so god damn well. He prayed that a gust of wind would just magically sweep through and cause the flowy fabric to lift up to see if she was wearing panties or not. His guess was that she wasn’t. He hoped that didn’t change. He laughed at himself silently with that thought in his mind. Her hair was in loose curls as it laid on her left shoulder naturally. Her eyes were covered by jet black sunglasses as she was wearing a tiny gold nose ring. Vanity turned to look at him, completely ripping him from his pleasant thoughts.

“We should grab something to eat before the fun starts. She’s yet to have lunch.” Vanity spoke, his eyes staying glued to her lips.

Nikki nodded, “Yeah, Maybe after we’ll start giving Ari a sugar rush.” He chuckled a little bit, as he knew She was rolling her eyes under those shades.

“You’ll be dealing with her when she doesn’t listen then.” Her lips pulled into a teasing smirk as she ran her black painted nails through her hair, “There’s a cafe over there.” She says, pointing to a carnival decorated shack as she glances over to him.

Vanity watched as Arianna went over to Nikki and held his hand before he scooped her up into his arms, making her erupt into a fit of giggles.

Vanity was happy this whole co-parenting thing was working in her favor. Because we know when it involves one Nikki Sixx and one Vanity Blackwood, it’s as if the universe has stacked the cards against them.

It was quite a site to see when it came to Arianna and Nikki. Arianna had Nikki wrapped around her little finger. Pig tails, a vibrant yellow shirt and light up shoes was a huge contrast compared to the silver chain hanging out of the pocket of his black jeans which was paired nicely with a half buttoned red and black plaid shirt. Vanity noticed he was wearing the same bulky chain and padlock necklace she had gifted him years ago for his birthday.

A young waitress guided them to a booth as Arianna and Nikki slid into one side while Vanity slid into the other. The waitress brings them water and menus to hold them over before rushing off to someone else.

Nikki looked down at Arianna, “You can get whatever you want Princess.” He spoke, kissing the top of her head.

Her eyes went wide as she stared up at Nikki, “Can I have a ice cream sundae!?” She was overly excited as Nikki mentally face palmed himself.

“Lunch first, then maybe you can have a sundae after.” Nikki attempted to bargain, but Arianna had perfected the pouty look that was a spitting image of Vanity, and boy, did he fucking hate it.

Arianna’s eyebrows scrunched together as she stared at him with her big brown eyes, “I want ice cream.” Vanity tsk’d, shaking her head as she looked over her own menu.

“Well-“ Nikki scratched the top of his head as he glanced over at Vanity for guidance. She in return, gave him a look, practically saying to figure it out yourself. He needed to learn when it was the right time to be the bad guy and when he could be the good guy.

It applied to both the relationship with his daughter and with Vanity.

“...Would auntie Clem let you? No. I doubt that.” Nikki quickly came up with a solution, knowing Arianna absolutely adored her aunt. Even if he despised her.

By the expression on her face, Nikki noticed she was attempting to think of how she could get what she wanted, “Daddy, Auntie Clem isn’t here and, and I think she would let me.” Vanity let out a laugh as she watched the two interact. It was amusing.

Nikki doesn’t budge, “Lunch first Princess, then you can rot your teeth with a sundae.” Arianna quickly became frustrated with him. So she went to the next best thing. Mom.

Vanity saw the tiny wheels turning inside of Ari’s head. She raises an eyebrow and gives her a stern look, “You pick something or I will pick it for you. And it might be one big bowl of peas.” Vanity said, showing her the kids menu. Arianna’s eyes wandered to the picture of a kid sized menu, pointing at it as she smiles at her mom.

“Arianna.” Vanity said her name sternly as she was finally defeated, slumping back into the booth as she picked up a crayon and started coloring in the little art book the waitress had gave her, “Chicken strips.”

Vanity looked over at Nikki, “And that’s how it’s done, Sixx. Take some lessons.”

Nikki pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head by using his middle finger. Vanity smiled at him before flicking the trash from the straw wrapper at him. Vanity continued glancing over the menu as Nikki picked up a crayon and started coloring with Arianna.

“No daddy, you’re making it ugly.” Ari spoke as she snatched the crayon out of his hand. Nikki rolled his eyes, “Well excuse me. Was just trying to help.” He chuckled a bit before he picked up the rolled up piece of paper Vanity had flicked at him prior, just for him to throw it down her cleavage.

“Goal!” He mimics a crowds cheers as Vanity glares at him and digs it out from between her tits. Vanity shook her head and picked at her nails before she decided to have some fun with him, for old times sake, or something like that.

She took off her sandal and propped her foot up between Nikki’s legs. She pretended to look at the menu that was just so interesting as she felt him glaring at her. She was humming along to Mariah Carey’s ‘Always Be My Baby’ as it played at a low level throughout the cafe. Vanity moved her foot long the inner seam line of his jeans, inching closer and closer until Nikki jumped in the booth and grasped her ankle tightly. She finally looked at him, a shit eating grin on her lips as Nikki warned her with a head shake.

He let go of her ankle as he tried to focus on finding himself something to eat. Vanity glanced around at the cafe, seeing guitars hanging on the wall with pink wallpaper laying behind them. She made a funny face towards Ari when she caught her looking at her. She looked over at Nikki, eyes narrowing when she felt his hand moving up her leg and then back down to her foot. She smirked, running her nails through her hair as she pressed down on the zipper of his jeans before running her sparkly pink toes down the outline of-

“Hi folks! Do we know what we’re having?” The over exuberant waitress questioned. Vanity nodded, smiling at her as she took her foot away from Nikki’s crotch.

“I think I’m going to have the chicken tacos with rice and extra guacamole please and she’s going to have the kids chicken strip meal.” Vanity handed over her menu. She looked at Nikki, who looked like he needed a cool rag over his head.

“Um, can I uh...Um. Just a turkey club with fries. Is it hot in here to you?” The waitress gave Nikki a strange look as she wrote down the orders before walking away.

“Are you okay Nikki?” Vanity asked, voice sickly sweet as she sipped on her drink.

“Never been better V, you okay?” Nikki choked out.

“I’m okay too.” Arianna butted in, giggling as Vanity reached across the table and colored on the page she was working on.

“Well, how come mom can help you color but I can’t?” Nikki questioned, trying to pick up another crayon but Arianna grabbed it again before moving all the crayons away from him, “Cause mommy knows how to color.”

“I was thinking we just let her pick the rides she wants to go on. Not force her on anything that might terrify her. I don’t need her having any nightmares.” Vanity suggested as Nikki agreed with a head nod. Wow. Two things they agree on in less than in an hour? Wow.

Nikki noticed as Vanity chomped on her gum and looked around the joint again. He also noticed how she watched some brown headed guy walk past them, giving him a smile when they made eye contact. Nikki had a sour look on his face before he smirked and kicked Vanity in the leg.

“Ow.” Vanity mumbled as she finally looked at Nikki, “Don’t kick me.”

“Sorry, long legs.” He smiled at her as she rolled her eyes and looked away from him. He sighed before he brushed his hand over Arianna’s braids.

Please just look at me for longer than two seconds. You use to spend all day and night looking at me.

Nikki tapped his fingers against the leather booth, his eyes falling on a middle aged dude wearing board shorts and a black wife beater.

“Oh no.” He mumbled as the guy had a disposable camera in hand as he came towards their booth. Vanity eyed the guy as he stood at the edge of the table.

“Dude! You’re Nikki Sixx! Can I get a picture?!”

Dude, I’m going to fucking rip you limb from limb if you don’t get away from me and my girls.

Nikki forced a smile, “Yeah man, not a problem. Van could you...” He glanced over at her, seeing she was visibly irritated with the fan.

Princess, you know this stuff happens. You know I can’t control it.

Vanity nodded, taking the guys camera with a smile, “I saw your show in New York last time the band was here. It was gnarly bro.”

Nikki nodded, “Thanks man. Glad you liked the show. Let’s uh, be quick. I’m here with my family.” Vanity raised an eyebrow as she looked through the camera and snapped a picture for the fan before handing it back to him. The fan thanked Nikki before he left to go back to his own table.

Family? Vanity tried wrapping her head around that simple little word. On one hand, it confused the ever living hell out of her. Were they a family? A weird, dysfunctional family? On the other hand, it made her heart skip a beat and made her insides turn to complete mush with the idea of the three of them being one little cute happy family.

See! And then you do stuff like this that confuses me! !Vanity huffed as she tapped her nails against the table. She noticed Arianna kept glancing at Nikki and then back over to that fan across the way.

“Daddy, you have a lot of friends.” She spoke softly.

Nikki laughed, “Well, your dad is important.” Vanity let out an amused grunt before rolling her eyes, Nikki glaring at her as she did so.

“Daddy just makes a lot of people happy with his music. That’s all babe.” Van explained softly as Arianna nodded and continued coloring for a moment before lunch was served to them.

“You’ll come to one of my concerts one day.” Nikki reassured as he stole one of Arianna’s french fries.

Vanity looked over at Nikki, “Don’t you think a Mötley Crüe concert is a little inappropriate for a small child?”

Confusion riddled Nikki’s expression, “I’ve seen fans bring their kids? Why couldn’t Arianna come? I think she’d enjoy it a lot.” Nikki mumbled before taking a bit of his food.

“Because she’s my kid. That’s too loud of music and too provocative.” Vanity expressed her concerns as Nikki glared.

“She’s our kid.” Vanity rolled her eyes, “Jeez, you sound like the same people who tried censoring us. Rock n Roll builds character. I want her growing up around the music and the band.”

“She’ll never have a normal life, Nikki.” Vanity mumbled but shook it off, “We’ll talk about it more when the concert thing comes.” Vanity continued eating her lunch, glancing over at Arianna who went back and forth between eating and coloring.

“Maybe you need a little Rock n Roll in you too, doll.” Nikki smirked, raising his eyebrows in a titillating manner. Vanity only smiled before stealing a piece of his steak.

After lunch, Arianna was already bouncing off the walls. She finally got that sundae she wanted and absolutely demolished it. Arianna was giggling and screaming as Nikki chased after her before scooping her up and putting her on his shoulders.

Vanity watches them as she tries to keep up with Nikki’s long strides as they head in the direction of the carousel, “Daddy I want the rainbow one!” Arianna yelled as Nikki handed over a few tickets and placed Arianna on top of the horse she pointed out.

Vanity held her sundress down while carefully trying to get on the one besides Arianna. What? It was laundry day and she didn’t put on any underwear and she was not about to put on a show for Nikki or any other guy for that matter. She watched as Nikki stepped off the ride, “What? Too heavy metal to ride a fake sparkly horse with your daughter?”

Nikki felt his face heat up, “No, it’s too small for me and I don’t want to squish her.”

She rolled her eyes and called him out, “Then ride your own horse or stand by her. Don’t be lame.”

“I’ll give you something to ride.” He mumbled under his breath before he opted for standing between the girls as they spun around.

After the ride, Arianna looked back and forth between all the games as Vanity and Nikki strolled behind her. Nikki quickly wrapped his arms around Vanity, resting his chin on her shoulder, “You know, I didn’t appreciate that little stunt back at the cafe.” He whispered in her ear as Vanity attempted to pry his arms off her body.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She smiled before giving up and resting her hands on top of his, “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Nikki smirked, “Remember all the times you’d tease me and what I’d do about it? You know how I am with these stupid games you like to play with me.” He moved away but left one of his arms wrapped around her waist.

Vanity stopped walking and stood in front of him. She placed her hands on his hips before standing on her tip toes and whispering in his ear, “I don’t remember, would you like to remind me?”

“Maybe later. I think our daughter found a game.” Nikki pointed as Vanity looked over her shoulder and saw Arianna standing by a booth. Nikki propped Ari up on the barstool as Vanity sat beside them and handed the carny some cash.

It’s a moving target game that you have to shoot with an air rifle full of metal beads. Nikki crouches down behind Arianna to show her how to play and she quickly gets it down and hits all the targets. Vanity on the other hand, is having a bit difficulty as her targets are moving in a circular motion. She quickly drains the clip before shaking her head, “Stupid rigged game.” She mumbles under her breath as Arianna gets awarded a small little plush toy.

“Mom! Look!” Arianna cheered as she showed off her toy. Vanity forced a smile before getting off the barstool, “How about we go to the darts and balloon one?” She pointed across the walkway, “It’s easier...”

“No! I want the big bear!” Arianna points at the humongous white bear hanging from the top of the booth. Vanity groans before she sits back down on the barstool, she reaches to give the guy more money until Nikki hands over his own cash for all of them to play again.

Nikki leaned over her, putting his hands on hers and his mouth near her ear, “Just point and relax.” He speaks softly as Vanity stiffens up as he wraps his hand around her wrists and has her hold the toy gun.

“Ye-yeah, Okay..”

Nikki moved one of his hands down to her hip as he rested against her back more, “Don’t listen to the noises. Those are meant to distract you from aiming, just block everything out.” Vanity breathed out heavily, how could she focus when his cologne hit her like a brick wall and the feeling of his warm, minty breath invaded every pore in her body, “Find the center of the target and just pull the trigger.”

She nods, attempting to relax against his touch as she pretended to miss some more. Her lips pulled into a sly smirk, “Maybe I need more help, Nikki.”

He laughed in her ear before his lips pressed a gentle kiss to the side of her jaw, “You’re teasing me again.”

She leaned back into his chest, “And if I am?” She chuckled a bit before taking his hands away from her and sitting up straight. She glanced over to the guy running the game. She bats her eyelashes and gives him a sinful smile while reaching across and traces her nails over his hand, “Can I just buy the bear?”

“Watch it.” Nikki growled in her ear before stepping away from Vanity.

If she wanted to play this game, he could do it better, “Look man, I’ll give you an autograph plus some money for the bear.”

Vanity narrowed her eyes at Nikki, glaring before she turned to the guy again, “I’ll buy the bear for whatever amount, plus give you a couple hundred bucks. Name your price.” Vanity then leaned over a tad bit more, showing off her tits as Nikki let out a scoff, “And if you’re lucky, maybe I’ll even give you my number.” She eyes the guy, tilting her head to the side in an almost innocent way before sending him a wink.

He smiled at her, “Alright, the big bear goes to the lady.” Nikki groaned loudly as Vanity stuck her tongue out at him, rubbing it in even more. She handed over a hundred bucks to the guy before giving the bear to Arianna.

“You’re the best mommy!!” She chimed with glee as she attempted to drag it away.

“Nice try.” She smiled at at Nikki’s scowl, patting him on the face before getting off the chair.

“Hey! What about your number?”

Nikki turned back to the guy, “Not that lucky pal!” He laughed before he threw his arm over Vanity’s shoulders, pulling her to his side.

After a few more kiddie rides, more rigged games with countless amount of money spent between the two of them, Arianna was finally crashing out as the three of them sat on a bench overlooking the ocean sunset. Arianna sat between the two, giant cloud of pink cotton candy in her hand as she nodded off before waking up in a jolt to eat again. Vanity chuckled a bit as she took a bite of her own caramel apple covered in rainbow sprinkles.

“Thank you Nikki.”

Nikki glanced over and smiled at her, “Anything for you and Arianna, I think she’s out for the count..” He mumbled as Arianna was leaning on Vanity sound asleep but still holding on to the cotton candy with a death grip.

As the three of them arrived back to Vanity’s place, Nikki held Arianna in his arms as she slept soundly against his shoulder. Vanity unlocked the front door, letting them in first before she took her from him, “C’mon angel, we gotta wake up and get ready for bed.” She spoke softly as Arianna sleepily reached out for her mom. Vanity took her to her bedroom, quickly getting her pjs on and wiping off the remaining coating of cotton candy from her lips and cheeks. She kissed her forehead before tucking her in and turning on her little fairy lights. She closed her door as quietly as she could before walking to the living room, seeing Nikki sitting down with his black boots propped up on the coffee table.

“Did you still want to stay the night?” She questioned him since his bags were already packed and the rental car was ready to be returned to the airport come the next day.

He gave her a weak smile, “Yeah, I can sleep out here. Just give me a pillow and blanket.”

You dumb idiot. I ask you to spend the night, do you really think I want you to sleep on the couch?

Vanity forced a smile, “Yeah, I’ll get you some.” She quickly turned around, walking to her bedroom as she grabbed one of her own pillows and a blanket from the closet before heading back out to him. She stopped walking, staring at him throwing a black shirt over his head. He smiled at her and took the blanket and pillow from her hands.

“Thanks. The couch is pretty comfortable so I think I’ll be good.” He reassured as she nodded and looked away from him.

“I’m gonna take a quick shower.” She mumbled as Nikki nodded and sat down on the couch and flipped on the tv.

Nikki sighed heavily when she walked away from him. The thought alone of her in the shower made all of his fantasies he’s already acted out with her spur to life with in the confines of his jeans. Nikki would like to think today was successful in that department, there was plenty of flirting and teasing that came natural, just like it use to. He hated himself and Brandi for having to leave all of a sudden. He was ready to have his shit moved out here and buy a penthouse at the top of a sky riser, or so he thought. It was only going to be a few weeks away from the girls, but he’d already spent so much time away from them. Nikki didn’t want to miss a single second.

Maybe he could convince Vanity to move back to California. He enjoyed New York, but his home was in Los Angeles, that’s where his work was, the band, the music. He sighed as he got off the couch and raided her fridge and grabbed a bottle of whiskey. He unscrewed the cap and took a long swig of it before putting it back. He twiddled his thumbs, glancing down the hallway towards Vanity’s bedroom when he saw her sitting on her bed with wearing a shirt and her hair wrapped up in a towel.

Since when do you take that quick of a shower?

Nikki walked down the hallway with light footsteps. He tapped on her door quietly before going into her room. He looked around at the pictures on the wall, the black metal bed frame and the dark red sheets and Vanity, who was lathering up her legs with lotion.

“Still like to play dress up I see.” Nikki laughed as he motioned to the clothes thrown all over the floor. He checked out the matching dresser to the bed frame, Seeing hair ties, clips, jewelry and loose money. He smiled a bit when he saw a picture of the two. That same one he threw at her years ago...

“That’s my favorite picture of us.” Vanity told him as she sat criss cross on her bed and watched him hold the frame in his hands.

“I was higher then a kite and so were you.” Nikki retorted as he put the picture down and sat on the bed with her.

“Yes, but we were happy and we had so much fun together..”

He smiled, “Yeah, we did.” He yawned as he laid back on her bed, “Kids are exhausting. I give you props for doing this by yourself for so long.”

Vanity turned her cheek to look down at him, “Welcome to my life for the last five years. She’s a constant ball of energy and it’s always different with her everyday. It’s never the same thing.”

Nikki ran a hand over his face before sitting back up, “You’ve done a great job raising her, Vanity. I’m serious, I couldn’t have picked a better woman to be the mother of my kid.”

Vanity laughed as she playfully punched his shoulder, “You’re such a kiss ass. What time is your flight in the morning?”

Nikki frowned, “Seven.” He much would’ve rather picked a later flight, but he had a meeting with his lawyers in the early afternoon.

“Oh. That’s really early. Arianna doesn’t wake up till about nine.” Vanity explained as her bottom lip stuck out in a pout.

“I’ll sneak into her room in the morning and say bye to her.”

Vanity nodded as she let out a deep breath, “I’ve had fun with you the last few weeks or whatever.”

Nikki smiles and placed his hand on her bare thigh, giving it a slight squeeze “I’ve been the happiest in years being here with you and her. It’s like my life has a new purpose in being a good father and a better man to you, or for you, or whatever.” Nikki cleared his throat, cursing mentally at himself.

Vanity shook her head, putting some distance between them as she put her lotion back on the dresser, “You’ve been a great father and I know you’ll continue to do so even if you have to go back home for a little bit. Ive been trying to prepare her the last few days for it anyways.”

Preparing her. Preparing myself.

Nikki scratched the top of his head, looking over at the clock on her nightstand, “I guess I should get to bed. So I’m not grouchy with TSA and the flight attendants in the morning.”

Either one of two things was going to happen.

“Do you want to sleep in my bed? The couch might feel comfortable but I promise you it isn’t.”

And that was one of them.

“I think I’ll stick with the couch.”

And that was the other.

“O-oh Okay, well goodnight Sixx.” Vanity mumbled, avoiding eye contact at all cost as she pulled the blankets down. Nikki watches her a moment as he takes note of the cheeks reddened with embarrassment she was currently sporting.

“Goodnight doll.” He was quick to leave the bedroom, physically palming himself in the face as he walked back to the living room and plopped down face first into the pillow. It smelt like her light floral perfume mixed with laundry detergent.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” Vanity muttered to herself as she turned off the side lamp and got in bed. She couldn’t believe she put herself out there just for him to turn her down. She didn’t actually think he’d say no to sleeping in a bed with her, but yet here she was all alone in her king sized bed. She attempted to get comfortable, pulling the blankets over her head. She personally wasn’t ready for Nikki to leave. Vanity honestly had fun with him. She chalked it up to her getting comfortable again and now he’s off. She was sad about it but she knew from the get go he’d eventually have to go back to California. What more could she expect? He’s Nikki Sixx for Christ sake.

Vanity closed her eyes and tried falling asleep until she heard shuffling around her room, thinking Arianna had woken up and wanted to sleep in bed with her. She peeped her head out from under the blankets, “What are you doing?” She questioned, seeing the perfect smirk even in the dark with only city lights barely illuminating the room through her window.

Nikki slipped out of his pants and he got in bed beside her, “The couch is actually really uncomfortable.” He muttered as he fluffed up the pillows before laying on his back and staring up at the ceiling.

It was quiet for a few moments between them. It wasn’t awkward or anything, it was a peaceful type of quiet.

Vanity turned on her side to face him, thinking of something to say until he glanced over at her, “Yes?” He questioned, hands behind his head as the natural smirk never left his lips. Vanity took a leap of faith, scooting closer to him and resting her head against his chest while she forced his arm to wrap around her waist.

His laughter rumbled through his chest as he pulled her tighter against his body, “If you wanted me to hold you, you could’ve just asked.”

“Well, if you wanted to hold me, you could’ve just asked.” She copied, adding a laugh as his fingers pinched her hip lightly. Vanity sighed in contempt as she relaxed in his arms, tracing over the ink on his chest as she saw goosebumps rise.

“Thanks for letting meet my daughter.” He mumbled, putting his hand under her shirt and letting his knuckles run up and down her spine slowly.

Vanity breathed in the scent of a woodsy cologne and cigarette smoke, “Don’t mention it. I’m sorry I kept her from you, I was just angry.”

“Rightfully so, I do understand why you did it though. I just wish you told me. I wanted to be there for you regardless if we were together or not. But that’s all on me and my fault, I am sorry doll.” Nikkis voice was soft as he adjusted their position and turned on his side, smiling when she draped her leg over his thigh.

Vanity studied his face as there was only mere inches separating them. “You don’t know how sorry I am Vanity. I’ll do anything, whatever it takes to prove it. I want my girl back, I want both of my girls.” His voice was almost a whisper as he brushed his finger against her cheek. There was just enough light coming into the room for them to see one another.

”I was just, I don’t know. I don’t know why I cheated on you. You’re everything I didn’t know I wanted, Brandi isn’t. She’s just every groupie I’ve ever met rolled into one.” He continued his monologue, rough finger tips dancing along her back as he talked. It was the most comfortable Vanity felt in a very long time.

Vanity stared at him, mumbling “Do you love her?”

Nikki nodded, “In a way, yes I do or I did. It was a slow burn but I did fall for her. But I fell for her because I was scared, depressed and highly emotional. The love I felt for her is nothing like the love I feel for you. I will never love another woman the way I love you.”

Vanity shook her head, trying to pull away from their embrace but Nikki gripped her hips to keep her from moving. He was tired of her running from him.

“...And you can hate it all you want, hate that I’m making you listen to me for once. But I do love you, I still love you. I haven’t stopped loving you since the day you drove out of those fucking gates. But what’s funny is, I was doing fine. Yeah, you’d pop into my head sometimes and I’d think of you and us but then eventually it stopped. And the night I walked into that strip club you were all I could think of. All I could think about was what you were doing, if you were with someone else. If you still wear the same perfume, and you do.”

Vanity furrowed her eyebrows as she listened to him. This was the first time in a long time she had heard him express something so deep. She thinks the last time he was this vulnerable, expressing everything was the night of Tommy’s wedding and he was a strung out, crying mess as he listened to Deanna’s voicemail on a never ending loop.

“And, if you hair was the same…it s not, but it still smells the same. Like coconuts or some tropical shit. And if you had outgrown your temper, but you haven’t.” Nikki laughed as she tried pulling away from him again but he held her in place.

“And if you’d still look at me with pouty eyes and you do. Your lips still form into a smirk that drives me fuckin nuts. And if you still sleep on the left side of the bed. I thought about all of that, and there you were. Standing behind the bar, staring at me with those big golden pouty eyes of yours and that signature deep red lipstick you always wore and left prints on my skin with. It was like the universe was listening to me. I think it’s our second chance.”

Vanity shook her head, chewing on her bottom lip as she felt tears at the brim of her eyes the longer she looked at him, “We were suppose to end up together.” She cried as Nikki wrapped his arms around her, hand brushing over the loose braid she had done and kissed the top of her head.

“I know darling, I know. But look, we made a beautiful little girl and we’re here together now. That should count for something. I am so sorry for everything. I sound like a broken record at this point but Van, I am so fucking sorry for ruining our relationship.”

Vanity trembled in his embrace as the tears kept falling, only for him to hold her closer to his body, “Shhh, Princess please stop crying. Fuck. I’m so sorry Vanity.”

“I-I needed you Nikki. I wanted you. You fucking had me, you had every part of me and you still went out and cheated on me.” She choked out, moving away from his embrace finally as she covered her face with her hands, sobbing into them as she tried to catch her breath.

Nikki felt his heart lurch out of his chest as he watched her hyperventilate, “Vanity, look at me.” His voice was stern as he wrapped an arm around her waist, “No!” She shouted, pushing his hands off her body.

“After all we’ve been through, I forgave you for everything! I stayed and I was there for you and I loved you, even without knowing I loved you. I stayed when I shouldn’t have but I did because I wanted you!” Vanity croaked as she shoved blankets off of her and wiped her face, “We were going to get married. We had a life together. I went through every scenario in my head over and over again! Was she prettier than me? Was he bored of me? Was he having cold feet? Was I too much for him and he finally had enough of it?! All of that, Nikki! On top of being pregnant with our kid, giving birth and raising her while you were off marrying her because you loved her so much. That possibly, just maybe, you loved her more than you ever loved me.”

Nikki sighed, beating himself up as he rested his forehead against her shoulder, letting his lips brush over her skin. Vanity gasped for a sharp intake of breath, feeling everything hit her at once. There was no bottle of booze and no blow to block it out and it fucking hurt.

“Doll look at me, please look at me.” Nikki spoke in almost a whisper as he removed her hands from her face. Her eyes watered more as his thumb brushed across her cheek to wipe them away, “Just…just tell me you love me.”

Vanity closed her eyes, trying to turn her head to the side but Nikki caught her jaw and forced her to maintain eye contact, “Tell me you love me still-“ He cooed, “And if you do, great. If you don’t, that’s fine too. Just tell me.”

Vanity held his hand that cupped her jaw not to pull it away, but to keep it there “You’re leaving.”

Nikki smiled just a bit, “Yes, but I’ll be back. You know I’ll be back. I’ll be gone for maybe two or three weeks, that’s it. I’ll come straight here after my flight lands.”

Vanity still needed more, “And what if you don’t come back?” She felt like a fucking idiot for feeling this insecure around him, but in reality, it was all because of him.

“You worry too much princess. I will be back, I have a family now. I have you and Arianna. I know it might be hard for her to understand why I have to leave now and in the future when I leave to be on the road, but she will be fine.” Nikki reassured as Vanity reached up and ran her nails through his hair

“I just got you back.” Vanity whispered, almost incoherently but she knew he still heard her regardless.

His thumb brushed across her bottom lip, “And you’ll always have me from now on. I’m not going anywhere, Vanity. You’re my home.”

Vanity’s eyes fluttered closed when she felt his lips on hers. Feeling every rush he’s ever caused to run through her veins. Every memory, both good and bad played inside her head every single god damn emotion Nikki Sixx has ever made her feel: anger, happiness, sadness, lust, love, excitement. Just one simple little kiss brought everything back to the surface.

He deepens the kiss, forcing her mouth to open with his tongue as she tasted every ounce of love he has to for her. She wrapped her arm around his shoulder, bringing him closer and feeling his weight shift on top of her, but not all of it at the same time.

Vanity opened her legs up, to accompany the body between hers as she put her hands under his shirt, attempting to pull it off of him. Nikki took the hint and did it himself before quickly coming back to her lips, cupping her jaw as he did so.

“I love you.” She whispered against his lips, feeling them form into a smile, “I love you. I haven’t stopped.” She muttered as she felt a low, needy moan fall off of Nikki’s tongue and on to her own.

Nikki’s lips moved to her neck, letting his hands travel up and down her body. Fingertips running over every curve like he memorized them and never even forgot how her body felt underneath his. He forced a quiet moan to fall from her lips as his teeth dug into that little sweet spot that laid under her ear lobe. The arrogance that dripped from him showed in that natural smirk she felt across her skin.

One hand reached down between her legs but Vanity quickly grabbed his wrist and held his hand at her her side, “Nikki…” His name rolled off her tongue in a breathy, lustful moan as Nikki’s lips trailed down to meet her clavicle. Nikki adjusted his weight, now laying between her welcoming thighs as his hands entangled themselves in her hair. His growing desire pressing against her, letting her feel exactly what she’s been missing.

Nikki’s hand reached between her legs again, his fingers curling into the waist band of her panties as she reached for his hand again, only for him to intertwine their fingers together and pin her hand to the bed.

“N-no, Nikki. S-stop.” Vanity put up a weak protest the exact moment she felt his lips abuse the skin of her neck and leaving a deep red mark in their path.

“Baby, please. I need you.” Nikki whined, bunching her shirt up in his fist as he kissed her abdomen.

”I-I don’t want too.” Vanity declared, giving his chest a slight push away from her own. She stared at him, both of their chests heaving up and down as they stared at one another. Vanity moved pieces of hair from her face, licking her bruised and swollen lips as she pulled her shirt back down.

Nikki closed his eyes, trying to control his breathing as he nodded before moving from between her legs and taking the spot next to her on the bed, “I’m sorry…” Vanity mumbled as Nikki lazily slung his arm over her waist.

“Don’t apologize darling. It’s-it’s too early and I got caught up in the moment.” He exhaled deeply as Vanity pulled the blankets up over them. She relaxed into the bed, resting her hands on his arm.

“You’re my home too, Nikki.”

*Nikki’s POV*

I woke up to my phone buzzing by my ear, “Yeah?” I rubbed my face, glancing down as Vanity was laying on my chest with her arm wrapped around me.

“Mr. Sixx, I am downstairs waiting to take you to the airport.”

I sighed heavily, “I’ll be down shortly.”

I hung up as I closed my eyes and laid in her bed for a few more moments. I quietly got out of bed, leaving her in the middle as I sat on the edge and looked out the window, the sun was barely rising. A small smile formed on my face as I felt nails running down my bare back.

I stood up, joints cracking as I turned around and leaned over the bed, chuckling when Vanity sleepily ran her hand across my face, “It’s early.” She mumbled as I kissed her temple.

“Go back to sleep, Van. I’ll let you know when I’m leaving.” I whispered to her, running my knuckle over her cheekbone as she closed her eyes and relaxed into the bed.

I put my clothes back on before slipping out of Vans bedroom and going to Arianna’s. I slowly crept into her room, trying to avoid the toys that were scattered on her floor. She had kicked the blanket off of her as I put it back on her. I knelt down beside her bed, running my hand over her mess of brown hair as her nose scrunched up.

“Arianna…” I whispered quietly but she only pulled the blankets to her chin. I quietly laughed as my heart felt like it was breaking for leaving her, “I gotta go, but I’ll be back okay? I love you.” I mumbled before kissing the top of her forehead.

I headed to the bathroom to splash some water on my face, my teeth would just have to wait until I’m on the plane. I went back to Vanity’s room, seeing she was sitting up in the bed with the blankets wrapped around her, she frowned when I reached for my jacket and put it on.

“Time to go?” She muttered as I weakly nodded.

Vanity followed me throughout the house as my heart, again felt like it was breaking into pieces for leaving.

“Call me when your plane lands, okay?” She spoke softly, resting her head against the door as I nodded.

“Of course, doll.” I gave her a smile as I reached for her hand and pulled her towards me. I held her hand in mine, letting my thumb brush against the back of her palm.

“Do you really have to leave? Can’t you stay for a little bit longer?” Vanity’s voice was riddled into a begging tone as I tried forcing a smile.

“We both know I won’t ever leave if I don’t go now. I’ll be back, okay? I promise. I’ll call you every day and think of last night when I’m alone in the bed.” I chuckled as Vanity rolled her eyes and took her hand from mine.

“Tell me you love me.”

I quirked an eyebrow, “Tell me you love me.”

She smiled and shook her head, “I love you, rockstar.” Vanity took a step forward, closing the distance between us as she gave me a sweet parting kiss.

“I love you princess.” I whispered as I pulled away from her, seeing a single tear fall from the corner of her eye. I pressed my lips to the top of her head, eyes tightly screwing shut. Don’t start crying now, Sixx.

“I’ll be seeing you, sweets.”

[beautifulterriblequeen]

[Mu Shu “I live” gif goes here]

SO. TDP posted this today and now I have LIFE. Go read it if you haven’t! I’mma break down all the moonfam goodness I’m seeing peeking around the edges of this very very Moonshadow happysad birthday information.

Runaan and Ethari both like books now. Can you imagine them just sitting together under a tree, casually touching with feet or shoulders, each engrossed in their own book, being delightfully introverted together? Maybe reading each other the most interesting parts of their books as they come across them? Aahhh. It’s so soft.

Rayla is the one who insists on the adoraburr meadow picnics! She’s decided that her stabby dad needs these picnics! I love this so much. Ethari pretends he’s helpless in the wake of Rayla’s picknicky juggernaut, but I gotta ask you: who makes the picnic food? It’s definitely Ethari.

Also! Why does Rayla think picnics are birthday-worthy? I wonder if Lain and Tiadrin did this with her before they left for the Storm Spire. Whose birthday got a picnic? Was it each of them? A family tradition that Rayla adored and insisted on continuing with her new dads! Ohmygod it’s the sweetest thing!

And I’m so soft for the fact that Rayla believes Runaan deserves this birthday celebration ritual even though he’s quiet and stabby. She doesn’t care that he’s a natural loner. He’s family, and she’s going to care about him whether he likes it or not. ohgodmyheart

These big strong dads getting foiled--repeatedly--by a tiny elfling with pockets full of adoraburrs though. Halp.

Okay the moscato detail is sending me, guys. Before Rayla came to live with them, Runaan’s birthday probably consisted of reading under trees and then moscato and a quiet night in. Moscato is a sweet wine, and it’s not very high in alcohol content. Runaan doesn’t really do sweet, so I think he drinks this particular wine for Ethari. But if he’s a lightweight, it could get him tipsy anyway. This page started by telling us that Runaan has a hard time relaxing, so maybe the moscato is his way of uhhh letting down his hair, just for Ethari? holy shnikes it’s my mdzs headcanon

Ethari’s gifts have a whole bunch of little details tucked in there though! Ethari knew Runaan for what seems to be many years before they married. He knew him as a “young assassin.” Awww man, I need all kinds of details there! And of course he spent many hours working on a joke gift for Runaan. A sweet, cute tasteful jeweled mouse. That’s just... I can’t, Ethari is too pure! But I bet he loved to practice his craft and made fun gifts for all his friends. What dedication, though. A true jeweler at heart.

And he’s observant, watching Runaan when Runaan thinks he isn’t being watched. He does that, with Runaan and with Callum in the show. He just likes to watch everyone around him, to know them. Part of his friendly charm! 

Can we get an awww for young Runaan petting an itty bitty Moonstrider? Because awww. Did he pick that one? Is that his mount? Did he insta bond with her and need to take her home that day? I think he might’ve! Runaan seems to make heartfelt decisions in a snap, despite his stoic exterior.

It’s literally a heartbloom flower, that’s its name, I hoped it was. I wanna know all the traditions around those flowers now. They seem very Moonshadow, tied so strongly with life and all its good things.

I’m angsty over the shift in Ethari’s gift choices though. When they were young, he made Runaan a mouse, because he thought the assassin was so quiet. Last year, his gift was supposed to be a three-eyed nightfox, a stabby hunter. Because he thought Runaan would like it. Runaan’s changed so much since they were young, and it makes me have feels. I mean, all the adults have changed. All three dads got harder. But this... ow my feels. Ethari’s just a craftsman in love, trying to make his handsome husband’s stabbiness beautiful. And he does. He looks at Runaan and he sees sleek efficient lines, an apex predator, perfectly suited for his job. He sees Runaan with an artist’s eye, and a lover’s eye. Every move Runaan makes is lovely to Ethari, the epitome of deadly grace. So he crafts his husband a dramatic, lovely fox while Runaan’s in Katolis.

Angst warning!

Runaan had his birthday in Katolis after all. He left home before his birthday, and Ethari took that time to craft the nightfox, to have it ready in time for Runaan’s birthday. But Runaan never came home. Whether he was in the dungeon or the coin, Runaan missed out on sharing that special day with Ethari and Rayla in the meadow. He missed out on those glasses of moscato, on letting Ethari surprise him with yet another jeweled trinket.

Runaan missed his birthday. If you have a birthday in the in-between space of the coin, do you really have a birthday at all? Maybe Aaravos knows the answer to that question.

Okay, more angst, but then a silver lining, okay? I promise.

When Runaan’s lotus sank and Ethari had to ghost Rayla with the rest of the village, he lost the last two members of his family, the two closest to him. In the last five months, Ethari lost every member of the moonfam, and he was completely alone. Three of them ghosted for cowardice, and one dead. Of course his husband remained honorable. But he still died. He still isn’t coming home. He still missed his birthday.

Moonshadows are tightly knit introverts. They need each other very deeply, even though they don’t go around expressing it with every breath. They spend time together and give each other gifts to show their love and affection, instead of blurting their feels with words. Runaan, Ethari, and Rayla were deeply rocked when Lain and Tiadrin supposedly ran away and abandoned their duty. They were each a different kind of mess as a result, but they clung together all the harder. And then, Ethari lost them both. And he was the only one left. 

This is Very Not Good Tee Emm for a Moonshadow. They literally need other Moonshadows to be in their lives. And Ethari is so open with his feels, and they’re so strong for his sweet family, and especially for Runaan, that he was actually dying of his grief. Just like Zubeia, who’d been married to Avizandum for how many elven lifetimes. It’s impossible to live without your heart. You just can’t. And so, Ethari crafted a different trinket. Not one for Runaan. Not anymore. But a trinket in memory of Runaan. A dying weeping-tree leaf. Ethari was going to die of grief for all his lost family, for his lost husband. That trinket? That was for everyone else, after he’d gone. To tell them why he died. He spent hours on it, making it with all his usual focus and dedication. Because it was going to be his very last piece. He wanted it to be just right.

Okay now I’ll make it a little better, yeah?

First of all, obviously, Rayla came back! Ethari isn’t going to die. He’s living for Rayla, helping her out, supporting her with everything he’s got, fighting to get her un-ghosted. She’s the only family he has. She’s his world now, and he’s never going to stop loving and supporting her, ever again.

But secondly, *hands you tissues* surely Runaan knew his husband deep down, after all their years together. He may have been a stabby nightfox on the outside, but his heart was attuned to Ethari’s. When he saved Rayla, he did it for love of her. But when he told her to go home...

...He knew, guys. He knew how terribly Ethari would suffer if he lost literally everyone in such a short span. He knew it would be the end of Ethari, that he couldn’t take such a devastating blow on top of the one they’d already suffered.

Runaan didn’t just save Rayla for her own sake. He saved her so Ethari would still have someone to love and care for. So his husband would still have family.

Runaan’s mission was a disaster, and his whole team was lost. But he didn’t just save one life with his last sacifice. He saved two. Runaan saved the rest of his family by sending Rayla home to Ethari. He saved them both. The stabby dark nightfox is more than just a hunter. He’s a husband and a father, and he’ll do whatever he must for his family. 

Ethari won’t need that dying weeping-tree trinket. And he’s already made something since: his lighthawk, that carries a message of life. Ethari only needed to know that Rayla was alive and well and needed his help, and he found his purpose again. The moonfam’s going to be okay, because Runaan sent Rayla home to save Ethari’s life. And sooner or later, they’ll save his in return.

[theartofbeinganeldar]

The Art of Being an Eldar: Legolas x Reader Prologue

Summary: You're a fantasy-loving, LARPing human from this world, who's the black sheep of society because of your obsession for the unreal and alienation of what's real. When you're in the middle of a LARP battle with some pretty phony boars, you fall out of a tree and bust your head. You wake up, alone, and are suddenly attacked by some very pissed-off, very real wargs. Without any idea of how you got there, you got dropped into Middle-Earth, with only bits and pieces of memories of Tolkien's masterpiece, though your recollection of everything else is perfectly clear. And of all places in Middle-Earth, you got dropped into Mirkwood, with some suspicious, potentially hostile, Woodland Elves...

Chapter No.: Prologue

Key: [Y/N]=Your Name [F/N]= Friend's Name [B/N]= Bro's Name [S/N]= Sis's Name [M/N]= Mom's Name [e/c]= eye color [h/c]= hair color [s/c]= skin color

Notes: So, this is my first fanfiction on tumblr, and I'd thought I'd try it since I have very little time for DeviantArt's chaos. It's much different from my Legolas x Reader on there. I added a small loving family to make the emotions relatable-- even if you don't have siblings, or have more than what I added, it's just fanfiction! Also, I tried to make my pronouns for said reader gender-nuetral so that everybody can enjoy it! The reason your character is so wild is for the sake of not fitting in to this world, yet you're used to it, so that later points in the plot can become more... Well, you'll see. And yes, I made Elves pansexual because I don't think they'd care much about gender or age at that point. LARPing plays a big role in the prologue, because your character is really into it for personal reasons. If this isn't your cup of tea, don't drink it. I hope you like it! Feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Warnings: Fluff, angst, graphic depictions of gore and violence (Cuz of orc battles y'know?), more angst, slow burn, some light depression in the first few chapters, some amnesia about Middle-Earth because the Valar say you're not supposed to have foresight, hard-core language, feels, lots and lots of feels, mentions of NSFW content, maybe some eventual NSFW content, LGTBQ+ characters, Thranduil being a jackass at first because he's fabulous, Legolas being a hot edgy prince that nobody can handle, Kili being an innocent bean, Hobbits being smol innocent beans, except for Bilbo 'cause he's been through some tough shit, Bard being dad of the year, Thorin being one dumbass boi, awesome dragons, awesome Nazgul, awesome scenery, awesome stuff in general, Elrond isn't listened to by anybody, confused Aragorn is confused,  Denethor's a bitch as always, brace yourself for creepy as fuck Cream of Wormtongue Grima Wormtongue, Boromir lives, Gandalf. (yes these are all legit warnings don't judge me.)

Pairings/Ships: Legolas x Reader, Legolas x you, Aragorn x Arwen, Faramir x Eowyn, Thranduil x Elvenqueen, Galadriel x Celery Celeborn, Boromir x OC, Thorin x OC, Fili x OC, etc. general LoTR standard shippings plus some of my own cuz I can't stand my boys being lonely

Word Count: I try to keep my chapters short, under 2000 words.

Rating: Teen (14+) for now

You'd never been considered normal by anyone. You enjoyed LARP instead of reality. Your "job" was just staying at home and captioning videos all day every day you weren't LARPing instead of interacting with society at a normal job. Your home? A tiny studio apartment that only cost $450 a month without bills, and you did without cell phone, car, and electric for the sake of being your weird self. You hadn't been to college yet, despite the fact that everyone told you to go once your gap year was over, and it almost was. What would you even study? Acting was all that got you close to who you were, so, ok, guess that's fine, but nobody else thought of that as a career. Maybe you could write fiction-- you were good at that much.

You weren't always like this. There was a time when you were just a normal kid, living a normal life. But somewhere around ten, you started to change, and by sixteen you'd become who you were today. If the Old You could see the New You, you weren't sure if they'd think you were weird too, or if they'd stare up at you in awe.

Hopefully it was the latter, which made you feel good.

I mean, come on, were you born in the wrong timeframe or what?! That's what you thought, anyway. There's no way that this world was for you. The fact that nearly all people were heartless jackasses that enjoyed destroying the planet, the fact that everybody had to be the same or were considered freaks, prejudice and injustice were key factors of life and the rich got handed everything on a silver platter while the poor had to scavenge... Just, everything of this reality made you hate it. If only you'd been born five hundred years earlier, or, y'know, in Game of Thrones or Lord of the Rings...

You'd really liked to have been born in Middle-Earth. You had so many books about it, you knew practically everything there was to know, even the confusing shit about Faramir being in the Fall of Gondolin. You'd practically memorized Elvish, and dwarvish, and you knew the whole six movies by heart, every line. And of course, like most Lord of the Rings fans, you had a massive crush on a certain Elvish princeling who was too pretty for his own good. In fact, Legolas was who inspired you to learn archery; maybe one day you'd be as good as he was.

Despite your wishes, you were stuck in reality, however much you hated it

. Even amongst your LARP groups, you were considered outlandish.

Everybody else had normal lives outside of their games, whereas you pretended this was your life. You didn't have any job aside from the small caption jobs you did when you weren't LARPing, no social life, nothing. The only people you had was your mother, brother, sister, and your only friend, [F/N]. They accepted you and your strange fantasies, even if they thought you'd one day regret acting in a way when you could've been beginning a normal life and being productive.

So excuse you if you decided to invite them to a LARP event and let them borrow some of your costumes. It wasn't the end of the world. But your LARP group apparently didn't get that memo.

"You invited your mom?!" A royal asshole sneered, yet you took satisfaction in the fact that his knight costume looked like it was made of cardboard painted silver, whereas your sci-fi Elf getup was actual leather and cloth. His name was Jacob Brent; you'd never really liked him. He'd always had it out for you because your costumes were so much more fabulous than his. Plus you may or may not have actually known swordplay and archery and dagger throwing and martial arts... Kinda. You were still in the process of learning kickboxing.

You cocked a sky blue-- yes, sky blue-- eyebrow to your equally bright blue hairline, spiked up in a short faux hawk. This was your first sci-fi Elf, and you'd wanted to go all out. A cocky grin split its way across your face. "Yeah, so? It doesn't effect you on any level, Tin Can."

He sniggered with his cronies. "I can't believe you don't have anyone else to come with you." He mimicked rubbing his eyes like he was four. "'Oh Mommy, I need somebody to come with me!'" His whole group burst into laughter.

You surprised them by joining in, actually appluading. "Oh, wow! Wonderful, just wonderful! Hey, should I tell Mindy that I seen you feeling up Roxie behind your fort last week?" He paled, and almost everybody in his group of crappy cosplay got 'o' faces. You put your hands on your hips. "Guess what, asshole, just 'cause I'm close with my family and you're not with yours doesn't make it a crime to hang out with them. It's my life, my decision, and I enjoy spending time with them." You hefted up a disappointingly fake spear, turning to walk away. "Oh, and by the way, your paint's chippin' off."

Reason for Hating Reality Number 6, 965: Immaturity levels are almost incomprehensibly high.

Your mom glared daggers at Jacob's Immaturity Harem. She'd always been a tough gal, always sticking up for you when you got bullied when you were younger, but now that you were an adult, she had to let you kick ass yourself; you were pretty good at it. "I don't like him." She stated casually, and you chuckled.

"'Course you don't. He looks like a cheesy robot costume you'd get from Wal-Mart with a too-big crotch protector that's not impressing anyone but himself, and he has the face of a roasting pig. Too tanned, too grubby, and always with something in his mouth."

She smiled slightly. "Has he always been giving you trouble?"

You swung your gear pack off of your shoulder, letting it yank itself down to earth. "Since the day he tried kissing my ass 'cause he didn't know me." [F/N] must've overheard that last sentence, because he burst into laughter when he approached with your brother, [B/N], and your sister, [S/N]. "You talking about Jacob?"

"Sure as hell."

You'd first met [F/N] a year ago, when you'd joined extra-curricular activites for your last year of high school. He thought your personality was incredibly brave, especially in this modern world, but even still... He was just a friend, not a best friend. You'd never had that luxury outside of your tiny family. You just didn't trust him after the life you'd had.

Unfortunately, it seems they didn't like the getups. "Do I have to wear this?" [B/N] asked dramatically, slumping over. He didn't look right in the pauldrons and leather breastplate.

"It's too heavy!" [S/N] complained.

You sighed theatrically. "My piteous children, deal with thy armor, for it must be worn despite thou complaints."

[B/N] pressed his palms together and bowed down. "Screweth thou, false companion."

You mimicked his bow. "Off to hell with thee."

"Hey! You guys! It's starting!" [F/N] cried, and ran off, his pack of weapons and magic bags trembling dangerously on his back. The rest of you followed more slowly, as you explained to your family how exactly LARPing worked. Battles weren't actually bloody, magic was just colored powder, you get points for a hit, and so on and so forth. [B/N] and [S/N] got it immediately, but your poor mom, who hadn't even ever played Skyrim, had no idea how the point system and leveling up worked. You had to explain it six times over before you'd reached the massive gathering of LARPing cosplayers. [F/N] returned to you as you reached it, carrying a map. "We were in Larsgyushter Prairie last, right?"

"Duh," You shrugged, at the same time [S/N] asked with a grimace, "Luckyestire Prairie?"

[F/N] inclined his head. "Well, I made some arrangements because your family joined us. We made for Glewnburg, where we picked up their characters, and then headed into the Elder Woods."

You took the map. "Sounds fair enough."

[S/N] frowned. "What exactly were you guys doing last time?"

[F/N] blushed; he must've liked her, which made you feel proud and like pummeling him all at once. "A quest to defeat a horde of wildebors in order to get a good amount of gold."

"How much?"

"Four hundred."

Your mom seemed confused. "Is that a lot?"

"For the land of Sisgremor," You retorted, "Not much. But it's enough for us. We hunt for food, and sleep in the woods. It's summertime, so we don't have much need for shelter unless it storms, and we know where to find caves. The coin is for some new bits of armor, and some weapon upgrades and a couple of magic books for [F/N]."

"Oh," Your mom said, and you took the lead, getting into your Elven character with a huge grin on your face.

"Come, my children! We must meet the bors by midday!" You ran off, but you didn't miss the looks over half of the LARP community gave you.

~le time skip~

The one thing you didn't like about LARPing was the enemies. They weren't believable and were crappily dressed, at least in your community. They were crappy actors and their dying acts were unrealistic. Unless they were orcs that had good makeup skills and good cosplay, they weren't worth fighting, but you had an imagination to kick them up a notch.

As always, the wildebors were just some guys in black outfits decorated with needles, and wearing pig masks with an underbite bearing tusks. Your imagination knocked them to eight-feet long beasts with bloodstained tusks, wild red eyes, and porcupine-like needles that shot out of their near-impenetrable hides if provoked.

You'd only fought these beasts once. They had three separate healthbars, each a different strength: eight hundred, four hundred, and one hundred. Your spear-- the only weapon you could afford after your bow snapped (Poor prop craftsmanship.), had a damage rate of ten health per hit, thirty if you could make a three-combo move (The highest combo move allowed.).  [F/N]'s magic bombs, bolts of energy, and other magic stuff only varied from ten to fifty health damage per hit, except for his Fyrering, which was a once-a-day power that was ninety health damage, plus a three minute window of burning which took ten damage every thirty seconds.

The boars were also viscious; one hit from them took around fifty health, and at level nine, you and [F/N]'s health bars were only at two hundred and fifty, plus your armor rating of fifty and his of twenty. Your family, however, were only at level one, with a one hundred strength health bar each and armor ratings varying between ten and fifteen.

In short: that meant a hell of a lot of hits, very little openings, and there were always numbers to consider. There were six of them, and five of you. If you had your bow, this would be easy. You'd climb a tree, avoid their needles, and fire your twenty-five damage arrows relentlessly (With the thirty plus bonus from your actual bow.) while [F/N] pelted them with magic. You could take down two, maybe three that way before retreating, waiting for your strength to regenerate and your undamaged arrows to "respawn" before coming back for more battling (The arrows don't actually exist, for safety reasons. You had to wait for ten minutes before an approximated number of arrows, determined previously by the quest-giver, "reappeared" in your "inventory.").

But you had to think of a new plan. A brand new plan. You had three level one novices, two level nine intermediates, and six angry-as-hell wildebors that were level twenty. This was an impossible quest. You should never have accepted it knowing your family was coming.

You were hiding behind a huge oak, and glanced around it; for a split moment, you saw the crappy actors, but your mind quickly fixed that. Above and to your immediate right, [F/N] hid behind a mound of boulders up on a hill, and you'd positioned your family similarly. You just couldn't see them. [F/N]'s hand waving caught your attention. Frantically, he pointed above you. You whipped your head up, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. You gave him a look like WTF dude, and he rolled his eyes. He picked up a rock as an example and pointed back up into the branches, but still, you didn't see anything. He gestured again, almost forcefully, and this time, you seen it: brightnuts, a specialized kind of walnut bred specifically to explode into a bright white light on impact, with dangerous shrapnel and poisonous fumes that had one hundred and fifty health damage.

Of course, in reality, they were just blue and white beanbags hanging in nets rigged all over the branches, but you pretended they weren't.

But still, perfect.

You'd start calling out orders as soon as you started throwing them. [F/N] knew how to improvise to a plan already, but your family didn't. You propped your spear up on the tree, and started climbing, wincing when the bark scraped your palms; you were wearing what'd used to be white bridal gloves, but you'd tinkered with them to match your costume, sewing sky blue patterns into the gloves.

You personally didn't make a sound, but a couple of leaf-covered branches fell; luckily, wildebors were mostly deaf and blind, so you should make it to the top of the tree without any consequences.

You flashed [F/N] a triumphant smile when you reached the topmost branches, snatching a bag of brightnuts and holding them high above your head. He shot you a double thumbs-up, then made a wheel-like gesture to get you to move on. You stuck your tongue out at him, then readjusted yourself on the branch to get a good aim.

A few seconds of struggling against the knot, and you'd gotten the net open. With barely a minute of hesitation, you drew your arm back, and fired. Your aim was almost perfect. You hit one of the wildebors in the side, and you seen the actor as he started the most over-acted reaction you'd seen yet: a violent jump, then what sounded like a deranged "Guuuugh!" You rolled your eyes. So dramatic.

Either way, [F/N] whooped behind you. "Hit! A hit!"

Before you could give any orders whatsoever, [B/N] charged down the hill with his realistic-looking wooden battleaxe bellowing a war cry. You slumped over. "Aw, shit."

In the blink of an eye, [B/N] was officially dead but still pummeling the poor actors, your mom didn't know what to do, [F/N] didn't realize what was happening from behind his rock, and [S/N] was dodging air like a boss. You waited on the branch until the coach of the actors stood, took off his mask, and blew his whistle.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! You with the axe! You died already! Come on everybody, regroup, come on..." Your mom and [S/N] were laughing it off with a couple of the actors, but [B/N] was having a heated argument with the rest of them, and they were starting to shove each other around; he'd always been a sore loser. The coach separated them, and [F/N] called to you from below. "Guess we failed this quest, huh?"

You shrugged. "It's all good. There are other, less dangerous quests."

He perked up. "Yeah, so hurry up and get down here! We've gotta get back to Glewnburg!"

You tossed the beanbag you'd had in your hand back into the net. "Comin'." Unfortunately for you, you were a bit of a show-off. You stood, stretching your arms out for balance, walking quickly and carefully across the bough. A loud snap that echoed through the forest silenced everyone: your sudden movements had weakened the branch down the middle, where a split was slowly cracking open.

"Oh shit." Did I have to choose the top branch?

Everything seemed to be in slow motion as you fell. Your ribs exploded with pain as you slammed into a slightly lower branch full-force. Your ankle snapped. Your arms were whipped and bruised. Your head cracked painfully across the thick, unmoveable base of one branch, and white and yellow dots burst in your vision. Your sight started to fade, as did the pain, until you met the ground with a dull thud.

I should've went to college.

~time skip~

When you woke up, the first thing you realized was, Hey, I woke up! I'm alive! which was immediately followed by, Holy fucking shit what the fucking hell did I break, then a much more painful thought of Why the fuck am I still in the goddamn forest? 

And you were. You were laying on your side, in a couple of very small but still immensely terrifying pools of drying blood, one of which came from the corner of your mouth. Your entire body throbbed painfully. Every breath you took caused sharp, white-hot pains to spiderweb across your entire torso. Your ankle was burning up, and you couldn't move it or your left arm. Your head felt like you'd been hit by a truck. A truck made of solid wood...

Why were you still in the forest? You knew your mother well enough to know that she've panicked. She'd've screamed your name and ran to you and called 911 immediately. [F/N] would've done the same. In fact, there was no reason why they wouldn't have called for a medic. You fell from the equivalent of a three-story building with poles sticking out of it.

By all accounts, you should be near death.

So why were you still in the forest, exactly where you'd fell?

With immense effort, you rolled onto your back, panting heavily and wincing against the pain. Your vision swam, and things were blurry. The trees were different; the tree where you'd fallen from was tall and branchless for most of the way up, and definitely not an oak. To boot, there weren't any nets full of beanbags, and your spear was gone. Behind you was  a cliff with an outcropping of rock that looked similar-- but not the same-- to the one [F/N] had been behind. There were roots and underbrush and bushes and walls of thorny branches surrounding you, and in between the ground was filled of orange and gold fallen leaves; up in the canopy, which hadn't been as thick before, the leaves were all dressed for Fall. You stared at it in confusion. "What the hell?" Shit. Even that hurt.

Where were you? Why weren't you in an ambulance with the sirens blaring? You were pretty positive you'd broken quite a few bones, and from that fall, you couldn't not have internal bleeding. So where were you?

You waited, but no one came. When the sky started to darken and the pain began to worsen, you were forced to move, slowly getting up, inch by inch, until you'd managed to be in a sitting position. It felt like all the blood rushed from your head and torso, making you cold in the evening chill. You hugged your right arm to your chest, really wishing you'd've worn arm cuffs or something; your short, high-collared, sleeveless, sky-blue leather jacket over a thin white crop top and a black corset-style belt really weren't meant for chilly weather.

"Hello?" You called out. Your voice carried on, but you got no return call. Blood trickled down your chin from where your lips had rebusted; you were lucky you hadn't bit your tongue off or shattered teeth. "Hey! Help!" Still, nothing. "Hey!"

After a twenty-minute bout of screaming for help, you gave up. You were confused-- so, so, confused. Where were you and why were you here? Where was your family? Where was [F/N]? Where was the coach, and those shitty actors? Hell, where was the rest of the LARP group? You'd even be relieved if Jacob appeared out of nowhere.

The moon had risen by the time you’d made it to your feet. Your ankle wasn't as bad as it was earlier; you could put some weight on it now, even if it wasn't a lot. You must've only sprained it. You tried calling for help a few more times, but only the crickets replied.

Then, they went silent.

You frowned. In books and movies, that was usually a bad sign. What'd caused them to shut up so abruptly? Not aliens, you hoped, like in Signs.

A low growl from behind you-- behind you, dammit-- made your skin crawl. A chill ran down your spine. You turned, slowly, hoping you wouldn't aggravate the wolf or coywolf or whatever it was; it wasn't either of those.

It stood on top of the small cliff, and it was at least the size of a horse. A boar-like coat, dull brown, covered its entire body, spotted in places. Its head was broad and massive, bearing an underbite of fangs and small beady eyes. Drool fell from its jaws as it snarled at you. You were half tempted to try the "Nice doggie" before you seen the rider.

Damn, it was ugly as hell. Small, malformed, with dark green skin and a crooked nose. Greasy, thin hair hung from its wrinkled scalp. Nasty claws protruded from its wart-covered fingers and dug into the horn of some kind of saddle. It sneered with an evil grin, and a mouthful of sharp teeth.

You didn't know what else to do; you took off running at full speed, ignoring the pains shooting up your leg from your sprained ankle. Branches and weeds whipped your skin, trailing blood. You glanced back once. The monster-- which you knew was an orc-- and the giant dog that you couldn't place the name of watched you for a couple of moments more before the orc gave a sharp order in a language you didn't understand, but it felt familiar. Two more of the giant dogs burst from the bushes on either side of the first, and they did give chase. Shit, were they what'd happened to your family? Some whackjob dressed as an orc riding a pitbull on steroids mauled everybody?!

You pushed yourself to run faster. Your heart pounded in your ears. Adrenaline rushed through your veins. Each step jarred your aching body, but you couldn't stop. The dogs were enjoying the chase, keeping their strides slow enough to still be on your heels, but not close enough to get you yet. A new sound-- a river, maybe-- gave you hope, and you tried to move even faster, your lungs burning from the strain.

It was a river you'd heard, but it was down a steep hill filled of arching roots and thorny bushes. You didn't have time to stop; you barreled forward, tripped, and rolled the rest of the way, hurting your body even further. By the time you reached the pebbly shore (With all of the sharp edges of the rocks jabbing into you unnecessarily.), the dogs were halfway down, the orcs riding them laughing like hyenas.

You couldn't swim, but you'd rather take your chances with the river than with the giant pitbulls. You waded in, and were immediately swept off your feet by the strong current. It dragged you under, and you were bashed into some boulders, getting cut up badly. One slammed into your hip, nearly causing you to suck in. Another rammed into your already-broken ribs, and this time, you did scream, getting a huge gulp of water. A crimson cloud engulfed you as something long and sharp burst through your calf. You were pushed up against another boulder, and you grabbed on, hauling yourself out of the water and hanging on for dear life, hacking and coughing out the water that'd filled your lungs.

The dogs had chased you up the shoreline, and the orcs carried shortbows with arrows of dark wood. A glance down and, sure as fuck, they'd hit you with one in the calf, dammit. You looked ahead of you: rapids, a slow and drawn-out death. Ahead of you, probably a very painful death, but hopefully it'd go faster than drowning while being battered to a lifeless corpse.

I should've gone to college.

You squeezed your eyes shut tight and braced yourself for the next arrow, but you were pretty much forced to open them again when you heard the sound of dogs yelping and orcs wailing. One of the dogs was dead, neck slashed open and pouring blood onto the rocks. It had landed on its rider, who struggled beneath its weight. The other dog had taken off, but its rider had an arrow jutting out of its face.

A troop of warriors, clad in forest-colored tunics of dark browns, greens, and grays had appeared in the second you'd closed your eyes. Every one of them had long, straight hair, braided away from their faces. Most had a quiver of arrows and a longbow, but some, like the one who'd killed the dog, had a curved longsword. Others still had long knives. Compared to the dark orcs, these people seemed to almost be made of light...

Oh shit.

Elves. These were Elves.You could see it clearly now, in the way they carried themselves: regal, majestic, every move perfectly balanced and smooth. Their ears were pointed, but not drastically like the ones from Zelda, and they were taller than most average men. You were in awe.

These were some damn good actors.

No, they couldn't be actors. That clicked, finally. Especially when you were able to see the one that'd killed the dog slice off the struggling orc's head cleanly and deftly before kicking it into the river. Thankfully, it didn't come near you.

Shit. These were real orcs, real giant bloodthirsty dogs, real Elves... This was all real. But how...?

You heard the sound of a bowstring being pulled taut, much closer to you. You couldn't exactly whip around in your current state, but you still moved as fast as you could. Another Elf, standing on the flat rocks halfway across the river, no less than thirty feet away. How the hell did he get there?!

After the initial shock passed, you realized there was an arrow nocked in the bow. You'd already felt one once in the last ten minutes, you didn't need to feel it again, so you stayed still. He watched you with eyes so blue you could see them from where you were. He was illuminated from the side by the moon, giving him an almost ethereal appearance. His hair was somewhere between platinum and very light blonde, and a quiver of orange-feathered arrows hung over two identical sheaths for ivory-handled long knives. His bow was almost as gorgeous as he was: dark wood engraved with golden leaf designs. His tunic was dark green, and you admired his fancy Elven belts and buckles and bracers for a second before your eyes were drawn back to his face, the profile of which was almost... Dished, in a way, like an Arabian horse's. Your eyes locked, and you felt as if you'd seen him somewhere before...

An Elf on the shoreline spoke, breaking the trance. You couldn't understand what exactly he said; you could've swore you knew some Elvish...

The Elf staring you down watched you for a minute longer, then jerked his bow toward you in gesture, shouting an order to one of his comrades. His voice sounded so familiar... It was on the tip of your brain... It was deep and soft and gentle and commanding all at once. You couldn't explain it. Two Elves followed his order, nimbly leaping from tiny rock to tiny rock to get to where he was, then past him, coming to you. Their weapons were sheathed, so you hoped they were going to help you instead of kicking you into the water or something.

Carefully, noticing how banged up you were, they grabbed you underneath of the arms and lifted you onto the flat rocks the blue-eyed Elf stood on, still ready to fire, and stepped back as you coughed up some water in a delayed reaction to nearly drowning.

When you finished, your eyes felt like they wanted to close on their own. You felt too tired, too weak, too pained... Despite that, you sat up, shivering in the chilly evening air. "Th-thank you..." With a start, you realized they might not even understand English.

"Who are you?" The blue-eyed Elf demanded. "Answer me quickly; do not think we cannot throw you back to the river."

Shit. Pressure. Suddenly you forgot your name for a split second. "I-I'm [Y/N]."

"What are you doing in these lands?"

"I was chased," You looked pointedly at the dog and orc.

The Elf watched you for a minute, judging you... He signaled. "Throw them back into the river." Suddenly, you were being dragged.

Aw, fuck. You struggled against the Elf's strong grips. "W-wait! I don't even know where I am! The last thing I knew I was playing a game with my family and I fell out of a tree! All of a sudden I'm being chased by giant dogs and being manhandled by a couple of Elvish pri--!" You were cut off by a bought of coughing that wracked your body so hard that you doubled in on yourself, pulling the Elves down with you. Your eyes widened when blood trickled out of your mouth, leaving crimson droplets on the rocks. Shit.

The blue-eyed Elf ordered something in their tongue, and the two dragging you halted on a dime. He finally decided to lower his bow a little, inspecting you. "Are there more of you?"

You shook your head; you were getting dizzy, and your vision was blacking out. "I-I don't know... I was alone when I woke up."

The Elves conversed in their own language for a few minutes, and the blue-eyed Elf finally came to the conclusion that you weren't much of a threat in your current state. He looked to the Elves on the shoreline, and gestured at one of the ones holding you, who then scooped you up bridal style, but like you were the ugliest bride he'd ever seen. "Und win'doheim!" Shouted the blue-eyed Elf, obviously the one in charge, and lead the progression back to the forest.

I should never have gotten out of bed today...

Despite the crazy situation, you managed to doze off a few times on the Elf that carried you, until a coughing fit or pain would wake you up. A fever spiked up as you crossed a bridge, and you were half out of it as you entered some kind of woody building surrounded by trees and rivers that you couldn't comprehend very well in your feverish state. You were panting and wheezing, and couldn't see straight. It all seemed so surreal, like you were viewing this from somebody else's perspective. This had to be a dream... A very vivid, very painful dream...

The last thing you remembered was Elvish chanting, golden and white lights surrounding you, and the silhouettes of the Elves. Your pain faded, and you fell into a forced sleep.

When you woke up, a breath of relief whooshed out of your lungs. It was a dream! It was all a dream! It was night, and your nighlight had gone out, but your hall light was still on. You turned over to see what time it was, but your nightstand was gone. So was your window, and shelves and desk and computer and all of your things. Your bed was different. Your relief dissipated to terror.

Fuck. It wasn't a dream.

You were in a small room. An orange-hued light came through the low doorway, and the dark walls were ridged, as if carved from the earth itself. You felt the remains of your injuries from earlier-- or days ago, you couldn't tell how much time had passed-- as throbbing remains. Your clothes were still ripped and bloodstained, and as you stood up, it felt like you were just coming off of the flu.

Wobbly, you staggered over to the doorway, hoping to find somebody that definitely wasn't an orc or Elf.

You slammed face-first into elaborately crafted iron bars.

Outside of them, fully-armored Elves patrolled on small ledges beside the spiraling rows upon rows of cells like yours. This was a dungeon.

...Well shit.

Tag List: @tesserphantom​ @thedragonghostofmordor​ @taurlel @hauntedsiriel

[recurring-polynya]

Hey, we made it through another week! Because I am your friend and I love you and @diademchiofthetripod​ told me that all RenRuki fans deserve nice things, here is a short and sweet little fanfic about Renji proposing very badly. Please enjoy. I have included AO3 and ff.net links for those who enjoy leaving comments, or you can just read it under the cut like an animal.

Any Proposal You Can Walk Away From | AO3 | ff.net |

Summary: Renji pops the question a day early... or possibly 40 years late.

Rating: The AO3 version is T for cussing. The ff.net version is cuss-free.

Rukia usually took Renji up to the hill on the Thirteenth Division that overlooked the training grounds whenever they wanted to do some chill outdoor boozing. Tonight, though, she had gone to the trouble of staking claim on the other hill, the one that had a romantic view of Ugendou Pond. It was especially romantic tonight, with the moon bright and full, reflecting silver in the pond's surface. A bit of fall chill had crept into the air, just perfect for snuggling up close to someone else (assuming you were bothered by cold, which Rukia was not, although she was not above pretending when snuggles were at stake).

They weren't snuggled together though, or groping each other, or engaging in an extremely competitive match of tonsil futsal, as they usually did these days whenever that could find a spare moment and a place that offered even the most tenuous veneer of privacy.

Instead, they sat side-by-side, silent, gazing out at the ripples of the lake, a little bit unsure of what to say to each other. They had already blasted through two bottles of sake, and were paused in a foggy, peaceful haze. Rukia reached out, and started groping around without looking down. Renji thought she was getting ready to crack open the third bottle, but instead, her hand found his, and settled gently atop it, her sword-roughened fingertips brushing gently over his own scarred knuckles. He looked down at their hands for a moment, thinking about how much he liked the way they looked together. His gaze traveled upward, only to find that she had turned her head and was looking at him now, eyes shiny with drunken affection.

Renji wasn't sure his heart had ever felt so full.

"How are you feeling about tomorrow?" Rukia asked gently.

Renji rolled out some of the stiffness in his neck. "Fine. I'm sure it will go fine."

Rukia, who had never fallen for his bullshit, not even once, quirked a smile at him. "Oh, yeah? Gonna go home and get a restful, full night's sleep after this?"

With that, Renji tackled her, rolling through the grass until they both lay on their sides, faces so close that they could each tell how terribly the other smelled like booze. "Who cares?" Renji declared. I'm gonna sleep so good when I have you in my arms again every night."

"Yeah," Rukia agreed, "I'm the one who's gonna be up all night listening to you snoring."

Renji buried his face in the join of her neck and shoulder, nipping at her collarbone. "I am not the one who snores and also, that's not what's gonna be keeping you up all night."

"Mmm," Rukia agreed, threading her fingers into his hair. "I can tell by the way you are trying to distract me that you are not fine about tomorrow."

"Is it working?" Renji mumbled.

Rukia disentangled her fingers from his hair and bopped him on the head. "It's a big fucking deal, you dummy, it's okay to be nervous about it."

Renji pushed himself up onto one elbow. "I'm not nervous . Your nervous-ass brother made me practice with him all afternoon, I can do my lines in my sleep."

"Buuuuuut?"

Renji sighed. "It's stupid."

Rukia lifted her head up to kiss his nose. "So what? Stupid or not, I'm your best friend, tell me."

Renji smiled fondly at her. "You are my best friend, so I guess I gotta." He sighed. "I dunno, I've been thinking about this moment for a long time. A really long time, actually. And I had sort of a plan, y'know, and some stuff I was gonna say, except that now there's a script and a bunch of people I don't even know are gonna be there…" He trailed off. "It's fine. It'll be nice. We'll be all dressed up and I'm much less likely to make a bonehead of myself, and of course, your brother will be there, as he somehow manages to be at all the important moments in our relationship--"

"Renji."

"--and if we get real lucky, there could be some drama, one of the Gotous flippin' their shit and throwing a vase at me or something--"

"Renji!" Rukia tried again to cut him off, although she was having trouble not laughing. "I get it. So why not just do it, y'know, now?"

Renji stared at her. "You want me to propose to you right here? Right now?"

"Sure, why not?" She gestured around. “We got, like… the moon. The lake. Very romantic, thank you, Rukia, you’re welcome, Renji.”

Renji ignored this. "Why not? 'Cause I'm utterly pasted, f'r one, and f'r two, if I ask you now, what am s'posed to do tomorrow when it's time to ask your brother for your hand all formally and shit?"

F'r one," Rukia shot back, "I think we've made some of our best relationship decisions while sauced. And f'r two, you can ask me again, you moron. No one has to know you've already scandalously elicited a promise from me before formally petitioning my Honored Brother."

"Wow, you made that sound kinda hot. Okay, okay, you've convinced me. Let's do this. You better say yes, or it's gonna break my heart, okay?"

"I told you weeks ago I would say yes! Get on with it!"

With a great deal of grunting and groaning, Renji heaved himself to his feet. He swayed for a few moments until the world stopped spinning, and then glared down at Rukia, still stretched out languorously on her side.

"Would you mind at least sittin' up for this, your Majesty?" he grumbled.

Rukia stretched as she sat up. "Would you rather I stood? You're kinda far away. I'm not sure I can hear you from down here."

Renji rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, if you don't mind. That's always the way it was in my head."

"I don't mind," Rukia replied kindly, and held out her hands, wiggling her fingers, so he could help her to her feet.

Renji paused, a thoughtful expression on his face. He seemed to have become distracted by the pleasant sensation of holding her hands in his.

"Everything all right?" Rukia nudged.

"Ah, uh, yeah. I just realized that, well, I wrote this with a certain game plan in mind, and then it got boogered up, and I didn't really… I mean, I wasn't sure when… or even if I was ever gonna get to do this, and it seemed like bad luck to be updatin' it all the time and,  well… it's kinda outta date."

"I am stupid drunk right now and I don't care," Rukia announced firmly. "Just hit me with it."

Renji nodded slowly, working himself up to it. "Okay. Okay. So, first of all imagine I'm dressed nice and I've just loaded you down with an inconveniently large bundle of flowers."

"Like your dress uniform?" Rukia asked hopefully. She was a great fan of Renji in his dress uniform.

"Oh, no, way shittier than that. We're talking back before I met Yumichika, I didn't have any taste then." He sucked his teeth. "Imagine I'm wearing something I borrowed from Kira."

"What, like, with your ankles and wrists hanging out?"

"Yes. Precisely." Gently, he placed her hands back at her sides before boldly putting his own on his hips and puffing out his chest. "Inuzuri Rukia!" he began.

"Oh, no," Rukia giggled.

"Inuzuri Rukia," Renji started again, furrowing his brows in mock crossness. "As of…" he thought for a moment, "Thirty-nine years and five months ago, I have passed the last of my exams, therefore completing the requirements for graduating with honors from Shin'oureijutsuin. Furthermore, I have been offered a position in the Fifth Division of the Gotei 13, under Captain Aizen Sousuke (I hear he's very nice.)"

Rukia clapped her hands over her mouth delightedly.

"I will be getting a salary of 50,000 kan per year," Renji continued, affecting a bit of nervousness. "It's not a lot, I know, and this dumb city is so expensive, but that doesn't count bounties for killing Hollows, and after a year, I'll be able to try for a seat, which pays a lot better."

"What do I care about your paycheck, you fool?" Rukia interrupted, her voice bristling with the defensive thorniness of her youth. "I'm gonna get a position in the Gotei, too, y'know. I can take care of myself."

Renji's eyes softened, and Rukia could tell it was real emotion, not just part of the act. "I know that. And it's not because you need it, it's just that I want to. The fact is, I've never had anything worth having before, but if I did, I would give it to you. All this work, I did it for you, Ru, because the only thing I want is to be able to give you the life you deserve." He took a deep breath and screwed up his face like he was about to do a terrible job casting a kidou. "I love you more than anything, Inuzuri Rukia, and I'm asking you if you'll marry me." Renji stood there for a moment, blinking, as if surprised that he had managed to get it out. Belatedly, he dropped to one knee and smiled hopefully at her. "Don't forget, you promised to say 'yes'," he muttered out of the side of his mouth.

Rukia rubbed her chin. "So, in this scenario, as envisioned, had you already told me at some point that you loved me? Or am I getting this all at once?"

"Oh, no," Renji clarified. "No lead-up. Going in cold. This is for the whole ball of wax, here."

"Ah, I see," Rukia grinned. "Well, on one hand, Abarai Renji, that proposal would probably work on the Rukia it was intended for. She would have beaten you about the head and shoulders before accepting, of course, but the fact is, you had her at 'an inconveniently large bundle of flowers.' "

Renji regarded her suspiciously. "Buuuuut…?"

"Buuuuuut," Rukia continued, "I'm an Acting Captain, now, partner. You're pretty cute, but I need someone who's going to be able to keep up with me."

"Well," Renji hedged. "Like I said, it's a little out of date. You wanna hear some of my more recent achievements? Would that help?"

"It's worth a try," Rukia shrugged. 

Renji pondered. "I did eventually get promoted to Sixteen Seat."

"Okay…" Rukia drew out. "Was that better or worse than that weenie Kira?"

"Ah, he was Seventeenth at the time!"

"And my archnemesis, Hinamori Momo?" Ruki raised an eyebrow.

Rukia and Momo had recently struck up an affected and extremely melodramatic rivalry. Renji was personally in favor of this, felt it did both of them good, very much enjoyed listening to Momo attempting to trashtalk the most foul-mouthed woman he knew, and did not, under any circumstances, want to be caught within 100 spirit miles of it. His eyes darted to the side nervously. "Er, uh… moving right along, when I transferred to the Eleventh, I made Twelfth Seat right away, much less prejudice against people who are balls at kidou over at the Eleventh."

"Did that entail a raise? Rukia asked archly.

"It did not," Renji replied, "The Eleventh pays garbage. But! I did get used to withstanding nauseating maelstroms of reiatsu without getting nosebleeds (very handy for hanging out with you) and also I learned the secrets of growing just really killer sideburns."

Rukia nodded along. "I am not gonna lie, I am way horny for your sideburns."

"Does that mean you'll marry me?" Renji asked hopefully. He wiggled his knee around a bit. "Gettin' kinda uncomfortable down here."

"Eh, you might want to switch knees. The thing is, I also have this brother… 

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. And mostly, his opinions are bad, just like, the worst opinions you've ever heard, but I do care that he likes the person I marry."

"Okay," Renji agreed amiably. "I'm very likeable, y'know. What kinda stuff is he into? Sunglasses? Futsal? Siiidebuuurns?" 

Rukia pursed her lips. "Mmm… more like… poetry? Reciting the provenance of furniture he owns? Lecturing people? Orchids, of course, but who doesn't?"

"What about…" Renji paused for dramatic effect, "devotion to Squad Six, excruciating attention to detail with regards to Gotei paperwork, and bankai?"

"You know, you really could've led with 'bankai' when I asked you to list your accomplishments."

Renji raised his eyebrows hopefully. "Is that a yes?"

"It's a yes to the question of does my brother love all those things. To be honest, you're very close on the other yes, almost there, but there's one more thing." Rukia rifled around in her sleeve and pulled out her phone.

"Rukia, may I remind you that it's eleven at night and also, you are stupid drunk?"

Rukia flapped her hand at him. "No, no, it's cool. It's probably daytime in the World of the Living."

"The time difference is nonlinear, you have no idea what ti--"

"Oi, Kurosaki! It’s Kuchiki Rukia. I need to talk to Inoue, but she doesn't have a spirit phone! Can you, like, call her on your pathetic human phone and hold your two phones up next to each other so that-- oh? Oh, she is? Yes, that would be great! Thank yoooouu, Ichigoooooo!" Rukia covered the mouthpiece with one hand. "Apparently, she's right there. Wait, why is she right there?" She removed her hand again. "Orihime! Hi! Yes, I'm great! Yes, also drunk! Look, I need to ask you something! Mm-hmm. Right. Look, you remember Abarai, right?" She leered at him.

Renji frowned back, offended.

"Yeah, yeah. Anyway, he's over here asking me to marry him, d'you think I should?"

A very loud, very high pitched noise came out of the phone's speaker, followed by a rapid stream of excited talking.

"Mm-hmm," Rukia would agree from time to time. "True, true."

"Be a pal and help a guy out!" Renji shouted, hoping Orihime could hear him. "I'll let y'ride on my bankai next time you're in town!"

Rukia scowled. "You fool," she hissed. "Orihime is incorruptible."

The words "-- ride on Zabimaru!! " very clearly echoed out of Rukia's phone.

Renji waggled his eyebrows triumphantly.

Rukia listened for several minutes more, and finally said, "Okay. Okay, I will. Look, do me a solid, will you, 'Hime? It's not official until tomorrow, y'know, Kuchiki bullshit and all, so don't tell anyone yet, okay? Nope, not even Ichigo. He can think what he likes, just deny everything. I'll see if I can scam some daypasses and we'll come visit this weekend, okay? Tell everyone all official-like? Yup, love you, too, thanks for the advice!" Rukia flipped her phone shut. "Well," she said firmly.

"Yee-essss?" Renji sighed, raising his eyebrows hopefully.

"Apparently the most perfect person in all planes of existence thinks you are 'the best' and says if that if I turn you down, I am a 'huge dumbo.'" 

"Ouch," Renji sympathized.

Rukia took a step closer to him, and took his face in her hands. "Fortunately, there is no danger of that. Yes. Yes, I will marry you, Abarai Renji, because you are the best and I love you with all of my heart. I don't care how many bankais you have or which squad you're in and I would marry you even if we had to move back to Inuzuri and get good at stealing water again."

Renji jumped to his feet, scooping Rukia into his arms on the way by. “No backsies,” he murmured before kissing her soundly.

“No backsies,” she agreed, ruffling his hair. “Feel better now? Was it everything you hoped and dreamed?”

“It went so good,” he grinned. “Wow, that went so much better than it ever went in my head.”

“I am suddenly no longer comforted by your confidence in tomorrow,” Rukia replied dryly.

“Tomorrow’s gonna go great,” Renji assured her. “I mean, what’s the worst that can happen? We cause a huge rift in the most powerful family in Soul Society? My Third Seat, who derives all of his power from petty spite, discovers his bankai? The rest of us go to bankai, we destroy a bunch of buildings, get banished from the Seireitei? We have to teach your brother how to survive on the outskirts of the Rukon?” He pressed his nose against hers. “Who cares? You just said ‘no backsies’, what else could possibly matter?”

“You’re the worst,” Rukia mumbled, having lost interest in everything that wasn’t kissing him.

“And now you’re stuck with me,” he confirmed, and gave her what she wanted.

~end

[frxggi]

Late Night Confessions

Sighs this didn’t turn out how I wanted it to  Tbh if i see chan getting into this sort of situation, mature and calm is like the exact opposite of how i think he’d behave He’s still young and so full of life so i feel like he’d let his emotions get in the way of handling this sort of thing so i kind of tried to have him act a bit more cooly but also still kind of ????? like how he usually is   srry if this isn’t exactly what u asked for but i did my best lol  Genre: Fluff i guess? Maybe angst not really actually  Word count: 2898  As always constructive criticism is always welcome thank u and goodnight  Also I wrote this on mobile so sorry if it’s kind of fucky ill edit later when im on my computer 

Sneakers squeak against laminate floors, heavy pants of exhaustion accompany loud music as you twist and turn and move your body to the song that’s been on loop for hours. The choreography that’s been drilled into your brain is now muscle memory as you finish out the song, your hair falling in your face. You raise your arms triumphantly, a shout of excitement leaving you as you bounce on your heels. This is the first time you’ve performed the song without messing up. Your other members groan and whine, their legs like jelly as they clamber over to sit down on the couch the company had only just put in the practice room. “Y/N, come sit next to me!” Hana, your rapper counterpart waves you over. You squeeze into the small space next to her and she casually drapes her arm around you, her phone held in front of her as she excitedly presses play on a new video she’s been wanting to show you. The visuals are beautiful, but the murmurs from the other girls overpower the volume emitted from the phone’s speaker. The video is nearly over when the door to to the practice room is kicked open. You and the other girls immediately get off the couch. The seven of you must have collectively forgotten that Victon, your seniors by a year, was scheduled for practice directly after your group. Subin announces his presence with a loud yawn as he stomps into the room. His hair is disheveled and there’s slight bags under his eyes. You guess he must have just woken up from a nap. The girls began to apologize for overstaying after they all give a quick greeting and file out of the practice room one by one. You, being the leader, have to stay behind and make sure everything was left as it was before you and the rest of the girls had arrived hours earlier.

Seungwoo enters last, his newly dyed gray hair pushed back haphazardly into a beanie. He’s dressed in black jeans and a white t-shirt that’s maybe a few sizes too big so it hangs lower on his shoulders and you can see a peek of his collar bone. He greets you with a wave and a warm smile. You return the gesture and then return to the task of cleaning your things.

“Y/N,” A cheerful voice begins. It’s Chan, rocking on his toes and a devilish grin on his face.

“Oh, hi. Am I in your way?” You ask, motioning to lift your bag but finding it stuck on the leg of a chair.

“No. I was just wondering what your schedule is like for next week.”

“We have a fanmeet on Tuesday, and tons of other stuff. I think I’m all booked.” You reply, bending down to free the strap of your bag.

“Ah, how unfair.” Chan juts his lower lip out in a pout, sniffing in an attempt to mimic crying before he’s back to his normal attitude. You laugh at his gesture.

Seungwoo watches the two of you casually out of the corner of his eye.

“We’re going to dinner to celebrate our first win. You and the rest of the girls are invited! Pleeeeeaaaassseee try to come?” Chan has his palms pressed together, held against his lips as if praying as he fixes you with a gaze you’re positive no girl can resist. You grumble.

“It’s not up to me to rearrange our schedule, but I’ll ask our manager if it’s possible.” His face lights up, and you wag a scolding finger in front of him before he can speak up. “BUT, no promises.”

Chan takes it in stride, and he’s waving a fist triumphantly as Subin beckons him away from you. Seungwoo takes this opportunity to speak next, catching you as you make your way out the door. “Stay safe out there, Y/N. The weather has been really unpredictable lately.”

“Ah, the dorms aren’t far from here. I should be fine; you don’t need to worry.” Throughout the course of your training, Seungwoo found himself taking you under his wing, so to speak. He’s helped a lot with your debut, even composing a song off of your album. It’s your favorite song. That being said, you and a few of your other members became fast friends with the boys; Seungwoo especially, so it’s no surprise that he worries about you.

You bid your goodbye as you zip up your coat, and Seungwoo stops you yet again. “Oh! Good luck at your fanmeet! You’ll have to tell me about it next time we see each other.” You nod, returning the smile he gives you before slipping out the door. You don’t catch that he’s staring at you as you leave. He doesn’t catch that Chan watches the interaction with a hint of distaste.

Tuesday morning rolls around and you’re the first one awake. Were it any other occasion, you’d take every opportunity to sleep while you can; your group had debuted not too long ago, and you’re busy with promotions, so you don’t get much time to rest. You’re showered and dressed before any of the other girls even wake up. Cooking would make too much noise, so you opt for eating a few boiled eggs from the fridge and a yogurt drink. Hana is the next one to wake, and she stumbles out into the kitchen of the large dorm (more like apartment) you share with the rest of your group. She’s lazily rubbing the sleep from her eyes and does a double take when she sees you leaned against the counter, chewing on your breakfast.

“You’re up early,” She observes. “Like, really early.” Hana has been dubbed the early bird of the group since you were trainees, so it’s to be expected that she rouses before everyone else.

“I had a restless night.” You respond through a bite of egg whites.

Hana sets out to grabbing dishes from the cupboards, presumably to get started on making breakfast. She’s younger than you by three years, but she admittedly has leagues more experience than you in the kitchen. You chalk it up to her being the only girl among her family; two younger brothers couldn’t possibly cook for themselves.

“Are you nervous for today?” She asks as if reading your mind.

“Not nervous, just excited.”

She fixes you with a knowing look.

“Maybe a little nervous.” You admit sheepishly. You can hear the soft patter of bare feet against hardwood flooring, but the footsteps never make it to the kitchen. A few moments later you hear running water; the youngest must be awake and taking her shower. You offer to help Hana with preparing a meal for everyone, and she accepts your generosity, but doesn’t have you do much as far as handling the food is concerned.

By now the rest of your members are awake and three of them are settled on the sectional, watching the morning news. The food is finished, and Hana encourages everyone to help themselves. You only eat a small portion, sitting cross legged on the chair at the kitchen table and Hana sits across from you, stuffing a spoonful of rice into her mouth. You finish off your food and it’s only a few hours before the rest of the members are ready. Before long, you and the others are stacked into a large van, headed to your destination.

Voices of hundreds of people talk amongst and above one another, and your smile stretches from ear to ear as you greet your fans. You hadn’t expected such a large turnout, given that this is your first fanmeet, but you were pleasantly surprised when you walked onto the stage to see the place was packed full of excited fans. You receive a number of gifts and pout when a staff member shews each fan away after only a few brief moments. You’re having fun and you’re happy and laughing and shining and before you know it the fanmeet is nearly over. Your nerves begin to act up again. The reason why you’d been so nervous to begin with is because at your first fanmeet you’re going to perform your first self composed song, especially for your fans. You announce that you have a song to perform as a thank you to everyone who showed up, and a staff member hands you a guitar. It’s your first time doing something like this, and you begin to second guess the quality of lyrics to a song you were so confident about in the days prior. Your fingers shake lightly and it takes you a beat then two to gain your composure. You begin to strum and pick at the guitar strings softly, your voice echoing out in the room that had gone silent. You sing a simple but sweet story, telling the tale of a girl who’s fallen in love with a boy but can’t bring herself to tell him out of fear of rejection. Instead she opts for a friendship, preferring that rather than having the boy disappear from her life completely. It’s a story that strikes all too close to home, and as you sing you think of warm brown eyes and a bright smile and your heart skips a beat. The song ends and the fans erupt into cheers and applause. You politely bow and offer them thanks before you’re being ushered off the stage.

You’re buzzing with energy as you file into the car, now on your way to practice. The fans love your song, and it boosts your self confidence and you’re excited to write more in the future. You’re cheerfully chatting away when you feel a tap on your shoulder. You look behind you to see Hana handing her phone to you.

“Chan wants to talk to you.” She informs, and you take the phone from her, holding it up to your ear. “Hey! Your phone is off, so I couldn’t get a hold of you.” Chan chirps.

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t charge it last night so it died.” “That’s fine, that’s not why I’m calling.” He says. You say nothing, which prompts him to continue.

“Did you talk to your manager yet? Can you come to dinner with us?” He questions hopefully. “Ah, yeah, I asked about it this morning. We aren’t busy on Friday. I don’t know when you plan to go out but-” “Friday works! If you’re free Friday then we’ll do it Friday.” Chan interrupts, adamant on your group coming to dinner with them. “Okay, I’ll tell the girls.” “Okay, cool! I have to get back to practice now, bye Y/N!” The call ends before you can get in a response.

It’s Saturday evening, and you’re dressed in your casual attire. It’s still cold out this time of year, so you grab a jacket and shrug it over your shoulders before heading out. When you arrive to the restaurant Chan envelopes you in a hug, ignoring the staff members protests. You return the gesture and make your way over to Seungwoo, where he greets you with a hug of his own. You tell him that you wore a jacket specifically for him, knowing that he’d have complained otherwise. He laughs and allows you to lead the way into the building. The party takes up four tables, all pushed together to seat 14 people. Hana sits on your right with Seungwoo to your left. Heochan sits across from you, between Subin and Sejun while Byungchan, Hanse, and Seungsik all gather at the opposite end of the table. Your peers all talk and laugh among themselves and you’re listening to a childhood story of Sejun’s. Hana sits idly scrolling through her phone as you all wait for the food to be served. It’s when you’re all speaking about everything and nothing at the same time when Hana interrupts. “Oh! Check this out! Someone at the fanmeet recorded your performance, Y/N!” She excitedly shoves the phone in your face, and you take it from her, holding it out over the table so the others can see. Chan leans over the table, trying to get a better view. The video finishes and you hear ooh’s and ahh’s from the boys, your cheeks heating up a degree at the praise.

“That was really good, Y/N. You wrote it yourself?” Seungwoo questions, impressed by your work.

“She wrote it about the boy she likes.” Your youngest member interjects from besides Subin. This peaks the interest of both Chan and Seungwoo. “Oh?” Chan pipes in quizzically, his lips turning up into a smirk. “Does Y/N have a crush?” He teases from across the table. You kick him in the shin. “Why, it’s not like it’d be about any of you guys.” You scoff, sticking your tongue out to mock him. “Don’t say that, Y/N, y’know Chan’s practically in love with you.” Hanse pipes up. It’s true. From the moment you met Chan took a particular liking to you. At first, his affection started out as a joke, brought on by Subin, poking fun at how he always seemed to gravitate towards you whenever you were around. Eventually, Chan had told you that he actually had feelings for you. Of course, you couldn’t return them, much to his chagrin, but he didn’t seem to let your rejection get in the way of your friendship. “Yeah,” Chan starts, playing into the humor of the situation. “Y/N, you don’t have to hide that the song is about me.” “What if it’s about me?” Seungwoo takes his turn to speak, a smile playing on his lips but it looks unnatural on him, forced. No one else seems to notice. Your cheeks are red from embarrassment, the boys unrelenting in their antics. “Why would it matter if it’s about you? You don’t even like her.” Chan defends, shooting a halfhearted glare to his leader.

“You don’t know that! I like Y/N plenty. I might even say I have a crush on her.” Seungwoo counters, and you groan.

“Will you two stop, oh my God!” The words fall on deaf ears though, and they don’t pay you any mind. “Doesn’t matter, she totally likes me!” Chan argues. “Yeah? What if she likes me more?” Says Seungwoo.

“Looks like you two are going to have to fight to the death.” Subin says, feigning awe. “Or, you could just do rock paper scissors!” Hana adds. “Great idea!” Says Chan, and Seungwoo holds out his closed fist, ready for a match. The two duke it out, and on the first round, Chan loses. “Best two out of three!” He exclaims, refusing to back down. A fire in his spirit, Chan and Seungwoo throw their hands out once more, and this time, Chan is victorious. He wins the final round too, and points a finger in Seungwoo’s face while laughing. “Hell yes! I win! Now she’s my girl!” You shake your head. “I’m not anyone’s girl! The song isn’t about either of you guys, so shut it before I explode!” You shout, crossing your arms indignantly. The action seems to settle the two boys. Thankfully, that’s the last you hear of the topic throughout the night. Dinner goes on as if the two hadn’t been involved in a rock paper scissors death battle. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. It’s late, well after midnight when you finally make the journey  back to the dorms. You’re exhausted as you wash your face of your makeup, after the other girls have all gone to sleep. You quickly change into some sleepwear and crawl into bed. As you’re plugging your phone onto its charger you get a message. 12:26 Seungwoo: Hey, are you up? 12:26 You: I’m just about to head to bed. Why, what do you need? 12:27 Seungwoo: I just wanted to apologize for earlier. I think Chan and I sort of stepped out of line.

12:28 You: Don’t worry about it. Chan has been trying to sweep me off my feet for ages now.

12:36 Seungwoo: Can I tell you a secret?

12:36

You: I’m just about to fall asleep, but go ahead.

12:37

Seungwoo: I wasn’t joking.

12:37

Seungwoo: When I said I liked you.

Your eyes widen and you do a double take. You can’t believe what you’re seeing. Your heart soars but almost immediately you begin to question the legitimacy of his words.

12:38

You: Really?

12:38

Seungwoo: Yes, really. You don’t have to do anything about it. I just wanted you to know.

12:38

Seungwoo: I hope this doesn’t ruin our friendship.

You beam at the screen, the light from your phone illuminating your dusty pink cheeks.

12:39

You: Don’t worry, it won’t ruin anything.

12:39

You: Now can I tell you a secret?

12:40

Seungwoo: What is it?

You take a few minutes to type out a response, giggling to yourself as you roll back in your bed. You type out a message and throw your phone to the end of your bed to stop yourself from staying awake all night. Though, given the information you just learned you’re positive you’ll have yet another restless night.

12:40

You: The song really was about you.

[maximoffvizh]

fic: the sun is too bright for me (but your smile is brighter)

he’s imagined how he’ll tell people this story. ‘i grabbed her scarf when it blew out of her hands in the wind’ said in a dreamy voice. absolutely no mention of the vampire reflexes that allowed him to do that | scarletvision au: vision is a vampire trying very hard to pretend to be human for the sake of his new girlfriend. don’t ask him why he doesn’t want her to know

He tugs anxiously at the tight collar of his turtleneck, wondering whether he should drop down to an even lighter shade of blue. Maybe this rich colour is too much of a contrast to his pallor, maybe it shows that his eyes shine a brighter colour than they should, maybe it means that this magical woman will take one look at him and realise that he wears high necklines to hide the two distinct round scars on his neck.

Vision forces himself to step away from his wardrobe, smoothing his sweater down with anxious fingers. She won’t know. She has no reason to suspect that he’s a vampire, that there are bright white marks on his neck showing where the venom flowed into his blood and changed him that late fateful night. He isn’t like those who lean heavily into this part of their identity, dressed all in black with silk-lined capes around their shoulders, haunting the vampire bars and living in apartments filled with expensive furniture and black marble.

He lives as a normal twenty-seven year old, in a cosy apartment decorated in pops of warm yellow, attending night classes for his third degree and holding down a job as a copy-editor. He speaks French, Italian and Sokovian, he knits and crochets and paints, he plays violin and piano and all of those are accomplishments he’s sure anyone who puts their mind to it would have achieved at twenty-seven. It just happens that he was bitten and made into a vampire in the seventies, and has been aging at a snail’s pace ever since. It allows for plenty of time to master the skills of a child prodigy.

He wishes he could check his reflection as he leaves the apartment, but at least it just so happened that her shift today meant she wouldn’t be free until after dusk. No prickle of sunlight will touch his skin, and he intends to treat her at the wine bar and be able to take a walk with her in the moonlight. They can talk about their lives, and he’ll let her do most of the talking - hearing about her life will be far more interesting than telling the lies of his for the hundredth time.

Wanda is waiting outside the bar for him, and he pauses for a moment to admire her, the dark red dress that hugs her figure and her hair tumbling in gentle waves around her shoulders. A black coat skims around her, and she’s examining her nails as he crosses the street and says a soft, “Hi.”

She starts, almost dropping her purse, then smiles, colour flooding her cheeks. “You scared me!”

“I’m sorry,” he says, immediately horrified. Not even thirty seconds into the first date he’s had in almost fifteen years, and he’s messed it up.

“No, no, it’s okay,” she says, seemingly collecting herself. “It’s impressive, being that silent. How’d you learn that?”

“Master of hide and seek in school,” he lies quickly, and she giggles. It’s better than telling her he’s so silent because he’s a predator and she, with her blushing cheeks and beating heart, is technically prey. ‘I am, biologically speaking, supposed to eat you’ is not a sentence to say on a first date. Or ever.

Luckily, she talks enough for both of them through their date. Telling him about her cat and her friends and her job and her childhood, talking about the country he saw before war devastated it, stood on its hills and watch dawn stripe the sky pale lavender. He’s content to listen, to hear her accent emerge more the longer she talks, to take in all of her. He can see the myriad shades of green in her eyes, the dark spread of her eyelashes, the faint freckles scattered across her nose breaking through the thin layer of make-up. Every twitch of her fingers draws his eyes, and he can smell the musk of her perfume, and beneath that the sweetness of her skin, his eyes tracing over the web of veins crisscrossing her wrist.

He takes a deep breath to clear his head, and instead takes a long sip of wine. Wanda giggles and says, “Slow down, handsome, I don’t think I’m strong enough to carry you home.” She reaches across the table and brushes a stain away from the corner of his mouth, her finger so warm against his skin, and he stares at her for a long moment before he ducks his head.

Their walk through the park takes them to a stream, a picturesque curved bridge, and he grins helplessly when she tangles their gloved hands together, tossing her hair back over one shoulder and smiling at him. She pauses at the arch of the bridge, and he looks down at the colours caught in the water, at the trembling reflection of the moon.

Then her lips are on his, scalding hot, and he leans into this first romantic contact in so long, the first real human contact in years. Her hand touches his cheek and doesn’t jerk back at the cool of his skin, but cradles him closer. His arms wrap around her and he’s sure that he wouldn’t even notice if the bridge collapsed beneath them.

He does, however, notice when it starts to rain. But Wanda just beams at him and pulls her umbrella from her bag, raising it above them and continuing to kiss him. It feels like a scene from one of the movies he loved so much in the eighties, still watches despite Sam insisting that he has to get a more modern taste in his media, and he smiles against her mouth.

Being in a relationship - that’s what this is, a relationship, a beautiful woman who cheerfully and casually calls him her boyfriend and brings him coffee and buys him novelty socks just because - is somewhat difficult when he’s keeping such a huge secret from her. But he can’t bring himself to tell her. She thinks he’s just a normal guy, admires his cosy apartment and beams when he answers her questions in her language, gushes over the painting and scarf he gifts her for her birthday and lingers in his arms even when he makes excuses about poor circulation and not being able to warm her up.

She’s also shrewd, and clever, and it’s difficult to fool her. He can put her off kissing him after she’s eaten Italian by lying that he’s allergic to garlic, but he ruins that by kissing her when she leaves and having to quickly backtrack and claim the allergy isn’t so severe that it will affect him if he doesn’t ingest garlic. She wears a silver necklace one night that makes his nose itch and his eyes water, and the first excuse that comes to mind is that he just got very emotional over the sight of an old man pushing his equally old dog in a red wagon. He tries to put her off taking photos again and again, until she thinks he’s ashamed of her and that turns into a three-day silence before he turns up at her door with an armful of flowers and a mouthful of apologies, and she kisses him and promises she won’t do anything he isn’t ready for.

She falls out his lap, rumpled and panting and wanting, after they’ve been carefully and slowly making out for minutes at a time, her skirt tugged up high on her thighs and her shirt riding up, and he feebly lies that he has a migraine and leaves her apartment. He’s thrumming with desire, shaking with it, and his fangs are dropped and he runs his tongue over their points with a shudder of horrors. If she’d felt them...if they’d gone further...if he’d hurt her...he has to break up with her.

“Or you could just tell her the truth,” Sam says. He’s lounging on his couch, playing MarioKart, and Vision is fretting on the gaudy rug he’s always hated that Sam bought. For someone who was born in the eighties and turned in the early noughties, Sam really has a thing for the garish seventies aesthetic. “Vampires are common knowledge, she’s not gonna run away screaming.”

“You don’t know that,” Vision says, miserably picking at the seal of a blood pouch. He can still see Wanda’s eyes dark with desire, feel the press of her hips into his, and he can imagine how he looks after dinner. Fangs dropped and stained crimson at the tips. She’d be horrified to see him like this. “I really like her, and-”

“And the last time you really liked somebody you ended up hiding from the crazy father that thought you were a demon and tried to shoot you, I know,” Sam says, and Vision shivers at the memory. Virginia’s father screaming about the devil and his monsters, the bullet that passed harmlessly through him, diving into a river and letting the current carry him away, emerging hours later with nothing to show for it but the filth that caked him, the silvery scar in his chest and the knowledge that getting too close to humans is dangerous. “But times have changed, my friend. We’re an acknowledged species. And this girl doesn’t have a father to chase you with a shotgun, anyway.”

Vision throws the blood pouch at his head. Sam catches it, tears the corner off with a quick flick of his head, and drains it without losing first place in his game. And Vision mopes to bed, lying awake as the sun rises.

He doesn’t see Wanda for a week, avoids her calls and answering her texts. He paints sad dark paintings, works harder, and spends his nights reading long rambling stories about love and crying while Sam makes fun of him. He stares down the barrel of eternity and no more time with her, and he pretends that he isn’t upset. Pretends that he knew that an ending was inevitable, because a relationship between a vampire and a human can’t work out.

He pretends that even when Ian proposes to Sam, and he realises that maybe it can.

To: Wanda

Hey. I’m really sorry. Can we talk?

The knock on his door comes three hours after the fateful text, and Wanda is in his apartment. She’s wearing an enormous grey hoodie and leggings, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, and carrying a coffee cup. And she stares at him witheringly, arching an eyebrow, and says, “So you ghosted me for a week, and you wanna talk?”

“I’m so sorry,” he says weakly. “I...I didn’t know what else to do.”

“If you didn’t wanna have sex with me, all you had to do was say so,” she says, and the defiance is fading into hurt, and guilt is pouring hot and gnawing into his chest and he wishes he was human. That he could take her in his arms and show her all the things he wants to do without being paralysingly afraid of hurting her. “If you want to break up-”

“No!” he insists, and she looks up, her eyes narrowed. “No, the last thing I want to do is end this. I...Wanda, you make me feel human-”

“But you are...” She trails off, and her eyes drop to his neck, deliberately bared. “You’re a vampire, aren’t you?”

“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you.” He slumps back on the couch, and she’s still standing, moving closer. “I...the last relationship I had ended in her father chasing me off the property with a gun, before people really understood vampires, and I couldn’t...I can’t bear to think about losing you because of this.” He pushes a hand through his hair, and says, “But if you want to leave...if this is all too much for you...I won’t begrudge you your decision. It would be for your safety-”

“Vizh.” Her voice is soft, sweet, and she cups his face between her hands before she cradles his head to her stomach, and he closes his eyes and breathes her in. “You make me feel safe. It doesn’t matter to me what you are, you’re clearly in control of yourself. And now it makes sense why we only meet at night, and why you don’t wanna take photos, and why you don’t like when I eat Italian, and why you flinched every time I touched you when I was wearing silver jewellery...” She trails off, and he lifts his head to see her frowning adorably. “But why wouldn’t you have sex with me?”

“Oh...um...” If he could blush, he certainly would with her curious expression and her bright eyes. “See...it’s hard for us...vampires, I mean...to control ourselves with human...lovers. And I’m scared that I...I might get carried away and hurt you. Because I...we’d be so close. I’d hear your heart so loudly, and we’d be...naked. And things. I don’t...I don’t want you to get hurt. Not by me.”

“Oh sweetie.” She lifts his chin and plants a simple, sweet kiss on his lips. “You could never hurt me.” Then she smirks, slides into his lap, and breathes, “And make no mistake - I’ll always be the one in control.”

She kisses him, long and hard and dirty, and his breath rasps into her mouth. Her kisses trace a path from the corner of his mouth to his ear, and she whispers, “By the way, you’re a terrible liar. I’ve known from the start.” A tug of her teeth on his earlobe, and she breathes, “Fucking a vampire is on my bucket list. But only if I top.”

If a dead heart could come pounding back to life, that would be the sentence that does it.

[a-midnight-luna]

Forever, You Say

A Victuuri Vampire AU by Midnight Luna

The time had finally come. He had found and trapped the infamous vampire and now was time to slay him once and for all.

The only problem: he didn't want to do it.

When Yuuri was given the task to hunt and kill the most dangerous vampire in all Transylvania, he didn't expect to find a rather attractive and kind person instead of the ugly monster the villagers described. And he certainly did not expect falling in love in the process.

In hindsight, he should've foreseen it happen, given the fact that he'd found the Nikiforov castle pretty easily, and was let in with no restraints. He'd also been captured, but not tortured, and he didn't even have to threaten the owner to let him out.

In fact, he was the one who wanted to stay for a little while longer.

He met and bonded with Vik (as the vampire used to call himself) rather easily, getting to know him more than he'd intended to and even coming to understand the reasons why he'd been plundering the villagers' stores and stealing people's chickens for the past months.

In the end, as Yuuri found out, he'd done it to save his little cousin's life.

Yuuri had also met this kid, little Yurio, as Vik liked to call him, he was a grumpy little boy who didn't really liked human visitors and only had eyes for his cat. Turned out he was sick because he was also a vampire who'd drank the blood of a sick old woman, and got so intoxicated that he now could only drink chicken blood and vegetable soups to recover. In the end, Yuuri offered to help him, as he wasn't called a Doctor for nothing.

Still, even when he'd made friends really easily with the two vampires, he couldn't help but feel that nagging feeling on his back that he had to make something horrible at the end. He had promised the villagers to end the vampire, after all; and he was known for having slayed the majority of the Nikiforov vampire family in his earlier years, when they were nothing but fugitives running away from the freezing Russia.

He haven't told Vik about this yet; he didn't want to ruin what little friendship they'd established in the short time they had shared so far. Even less when his feelings were getting in the way.

He found himself more than once pacing in his room (on a tall tower of the castle), with darkness surrounding him as he debated whether to keep his promise to the villagers and end the vampires, or to follow his own feelings and stay in the castle, doomed to never go out again, watching his life slowly pass in front of his eyes until he died and the Nikiforovs outlived him, causing troubles again within the village and getting into a loop that someday, someone would have the courage to put an end to. Maybe in an even more cruel way than what he usually did.

He really couldn't let the villagers keep on suffering the way they'd been until now.

He had to do something now that he had found and trapped the vampires.

The only problem: he didn't want to do it.

He didn't want to do it, and yet he still found himself sneaking into Vik's chamber and into his coffin, holding a stake behind his back ready to end the vampire's life and all his own feelings with him.

It was a sacrifice he had to do for the sake of the villagers. And the sake of himself.

He slid silently into the chamber at dawn, knowing he had little time to fulfill his task before the night came and the vampire woke up; and firmly held the stake in his fist, so hard his knuckles were white and his fingertips quivered. Using only one hand he opened the heavy coffin, revealing the beautiful, almost prince-like looking of the vampire, and he swallowed hard. He trembled all over, and as he lifted his hand with the stake, he could feel the cold fear running down his spine and enveloping him whole, threatening to stop him, to make him drop everything and run away like a damned coward to never come back again.

This was the first time he was terrified in front of a vampire.

And a very good looking one, as well.

Knowing that soon everything would be covered in blood, he took a moment to save the vampire's looks into his mind: from the thin line of his silver hair, to the perfect bridge of his nose, to those gorgeous red lips he wanted nothing but to kiss them... He stared at them and wondered if he could get a taste before he got his mission done.

He also wanted one last look at those cerulean eyes; the same ones that used to gaze at him with such adoration whenever Yuuri was near them... It was a shame he had to deprive the world from such a view. That was another reason why he didn't want to slay the vampire and let him liv⎯

He knew he'd taken too much time contemplating him, because as if on cue Vik opened his eyes and stared at him for what felt like the longest second of his life, to then realize he was still holding the stake up in the air, ready to drive it right into the vampire's heart.

Vik's face, however, looked unfazed as he stared at Yuuri, until a shadow of disappointment covered his beautiful face as he muttered "So this is why you really came here for. This has been your mission all along..."

Yuuri didn't have words to explain himself. He could only feel a thick lump getting stuck in his throat as he saw all his hopes for the future crumble down and fall away. He froze in place as he realized that, no matter what he'd do next, nothing would go as planned and he'd lose not only Vik and his friendship with the two vampires, but also the villager's trust and even his own reputation as Doctor Katsuki, the Vampire Slayer.

"You⎯ you don't understand" he spat as he felt tears collecting behind his eyes "I have to do this. I can't let my people down!"

"I know" Vik said, his voice flat, "but that's not an excuse for tricking us and make us think you were different. For making me believe you had changed..."

"W-what?" Yuuri choked out, forcing back his tears and lowering his hand with the stake just a little "I⎯ I didn't⎯"

"I know who you are" Vik said, turning his head to look at the ceiling "You are Doctor Katsuki, the Vampire Slayer from Transylvania. You killed my mother when we were hiding in a forest when I was only 5 years old. You saw me and since my fangs hadn't come out yet, you thought I was just a lost kid and took me to the village instead of killing me as well. You didn't even think that I was scared for having lost my mother and the rest of my family in that journey from Russia. You only wanted to 'purge the world from those monsters', as you so pointedly said that night" he sighed "And apparently you still want to. You still think we are nothing but monsters..."

Yuuri froze once more as he recalled everything Vik had just said. He did slay a female vampire in a forest when he was younger, but only because he thought she was going after that little boy and he wanted to save him. He didn't consider that the vampire was related to the boy, and definitely didn't think he had traumatized the kid with his actions. He only wanted to do good and save the poor boy's life; not leave him an orphan and traumatized by killing his mother.

And to think she was the first vampire he'd ever slayed. He started his career thanks to her.

But he had left a little boy without his mother at the same time.

Yuuri stepped back and slumped against the wall next to the coffin, barely registering the stake falling to the floor and Vik's body leaving his deathbed. Everything fell at once: he had spent his entire life hunting and killing vampires with no mercy to save the villager's lives and families, but hadn't stopped for a moment to think that the vampires must have families, too, and that they suffer as much as a human does when they lose a dear member.

He'd spent all his life trying to save people's lives from the "blood-sucking monsters", not knowing that he himself was the monster.

In the end, he realized he wasn't a Vampire Slayer. He was just a heartless murderer.

"I'm so sorry" he breathed as realization struck him hard, feeling tears running down his cheeks and his gaze lost in the floor "I didn't mean to do all that. I'm sorry..."

"Well, your sorry won't bring my mother back" Vik said, sounding more distant than Yuuri had registered, "or the rest of my family"

Yuuri then looked up at him and even through his tears he could recognize the sinister vampire smile he'd chased all his life: the crimson lips curved slightly upwards, the snowy fangs showing and the eyes glistening with a red sparkle that no one could ever explain...

He knew Vik was scheming something.

And he didn't know how to feel about it.

"...But I know something that can make up for it" Vik rasped, his fangs softly brushing his lips as he spoke. Yuuri swallowed thickly as he forced his tears to stop.

He then asked, "You're going to turn me into a vampire like you?"

Vik just shrugged as if it were the most common thing to do "It's a fair exchange for killing my mother and the rest of my family. And that way you can stay with me forever, so I can watch every move you make and can stop you from killing another one of us"

Yuuri straightened himself and wiped the remaining tears from his cheeks, looking intently at Vik "Forever, you say?"

The vampire smiled for a brief second and, in the blink of an eye, he appeared behind Yuuri, sneaking one arm around his waist as his other hand softly held the human's chin upwards "Yes", he murmured in his ear "It is a contract that cannot be undone"

"But... I won't be able to slay more vampires and save villagers" Yuuri said to himself, suddenly realizing what he was getting into

Vik slowly licked Yuuri's neck, tasting him, savoring him as the most delicious meal he'd ever had "They will be left alone. With their most famous slayer... gone... " he pouted, pretending pity.

"All this will stop..." Yuuri breathed weakly, remaining still even when the vampire's fangs were dangerously close to his pulse point, ready to bite down and end his life

"You will have an endless life" Vik whispered, brushing Yuuri's neck with his tongue "Filled with pain, regrets and loneliness. Just like the rest of us..."

It was then that Yuuri became acutely aware of his situation: Vik's body hovering over him, holding him strongly with an arm and preventing him from making any movement; his cold breath running down his spine and sending shivers all through him; with those pointy fangs wanting to sink painfully into his neck until his heart stopped...

In any other day he'd be terrified and would've done anything to get out of the vampire's grip. He would have gathered all his forces to save himself and slay him then. But now...

Now he had made up his mind.

He relaxed into Vik's inhumanly strong arm "Alright" he murmured, turning his head to watch intently at the vampire, and said "Turn me, then".

[inkyardpress]

Excerpt: CROWN OF CORAL AND PEARL by Mara Rutherford

Chapter One

Sometimes I wonder if it was our names that determined our fates, or the other way around. Nor and Zadie: coral and pearl. Both precious to our people, both beautiful enough to adorn the necks of queens. But whereas a pearl is prized for its luster, its shape, its lack of imperfections, coral is different. It grows twisted. In its natural form, it can hardly be considered beautiful at all.

Still, Zadie and I were born as equals in beauty, grace, and wit. We were, the elders declared, the loveliest babies ever born in Varenia. Mother proudly rowed us around in our family’s wooden boat, where Zadie and I would spend much of our childhood. She shaded our olive skin with wide-brimmed hats to prevent sunburn; she forced Father to sand down the sharp edges on our furniture; not a single dark hair on our heads was sacrificed to a pair of scissors. She inspected us every night for scratches or scrapes, then applied oils and salves while she scolded us to be more cautious.

After all, though Varenian women were blessed with hair as varied as the fish in our waters—from straight to ringlets, flaxen to ebony—and our skin was smooth and healthy in every shade from gold to burnished copper, beauty in our village was held to a higher standard. A girl’s features must be symmetrical and well proportioned, her complexion clear, her gaze bright and curious, though never too direct. Her presentation should always be impeccable, no matter the time or place. To truly stand out, a girl could be nothing short of perfect.

Because in Varenia, being a beautiful girl wasn’t just lucky. Once every generation, it determined which one of us would become a princess.

*

“Nor!” Zadie cried, pulling me back from the edge of the boat where I balanced on one foot. “What are you thinking? You can’t risk an injury now.”

I scratched at my scalp, tender from where Mother had plaited my hair extra tight as punishment for forgetting my hat yesterday. She was forever fretting that the sun would turn our silken hair brittle or—gods forbid—summon forth a freckle, but these days, the angry grumblings from my empty belly were loud enough to drown out Mother’s shrill voice in my head. We’d been looking for oysters for hours, to no avail.

Zadie, ever the dutiful daughter, batted my hand away. “Please, for Mother’s sake, behave. You know how nervous she is about the ceremony.” The ceremony. When hadn’t Mother been nervous about it? Every cloudless day spent in the shade of our stilt-legged wooden house, every missed pearl-diving opportunity because the sea was too rough… I owed them all to the ceremony and to our mother’s obsession with it.

“Ours is a kingdom without borders,” Father liked to say as he stood on the narrow balcony outside our house, shading his eyes with one hand as he scanned the horizon. Maybe that was true for him, but our life was a constant reminder that one day, the Crown Prince of Ilara would come of marrying age. And as it had been for hundreds of years, so would it be in three days—the elders would finally choose the most beautiful girl in Varenia to be his bride. The last girl had left us twenty years ago, when the present king was still a prince and the shoals hadn’t yet been plucked bare, but Mother assured us that she wasn’t half as beautiful as Zadie and me. Before the incident, she teased the elders that they would have to send both of us to marry the prince and let him decide for himself, because we were as indistinguishable as two silver featherfish.

Now, of course, it was clear who would be sent. The small pink scar on my right cheekbone was all that stood between the crown and me. Anywhere else on my body, an imperfection smaller than a Varenian pearl might have been overlooked, but compared to Zadie’s flawless skin, the jagged mark was impossible to ignore. Fortunately, I’d had the seven years since the incident to prepare for this, and seven years of relative freedom from our mother’s constant fussing—at least compared to Zadie.

I flopped back onto the cushions in the bottom of our boat and turned my face up to the cloud-dappled sky. “Are you ready for it?” I asked.

“For what?” Zadie feigned ignorance while she pulled her skirts over her exposed ankles.

“To leave Varenia. To leave Mother and Samiel.” To leave me.

“You don’t know they’re going to choose me. You’re just as beautiful as I am, and you never get sick. And I’ve heard rumors that Alys is being considered as well.”

I arched a skeptical brow. “Mother says that even with my scar, I’m prettier than Alys will ever be. How did she put it? ‘Alys has only to smile, and that snaggletooth will send the prince running for his nursemaid.’”

Zadie frowned. “Mother shouldn’t say such things. Alys can’t help it.”

“Neither can Mother,” I said with a wry look.

Zadie pulled on one of the lines hanging over the side of the boat, frowning at the tiny fish dangling from the end. Our waters had been overfished for years, though no one seemed to want to admit it. Zadie carefully laid the shimmering creature in the palm of her hand, removed the hook, and dropped it back into the sea. The fish was too small to eat, though we might have used it for bait, had there been anything larger to catch.

“I know Mother can be difficult, but she only wants what’s best for us,” Zadie said after a moment. “What she herself couldn’t have.”

Half a dozen snide comments popped into my head, but I held my tongue. 

“Perhaps you’re right.”

Though I’d never told her, I knew for a fact Zadie would be the chosen one; the only one of us who would ever set foot on land—something I’d wished for since childhood. Because scar or no scar, Zadie was beautiful in a way I would never be. In Varenia, we were constantly searching for imperfections, whether in pearls or people, but Zadie only ever saw the good. Just last week, while I lamented the damage to our house from a passing storm, Zadie watched the sky, searching for rainbows. 

So even when our mother was at her worst, Zadie could find something kind to say in return.

I would never be that good, that pure of heart. And that was a harder sort of pain to bear.

“I’m going swimming,” I said, wishing I could shed my thoughts as easily as my skirts.

Zadie glanced around anxiously. As young women of marrying age, we should never be seen barelegged in public, but diving in a skirt wasn’t just difficult—it was dangerous. Before, when oysters were plentiful, young men did most of the diving. But these days, girls and women helped out whenever possible. And in our family, with Father fishing every day and no brothers to share the burden, there was no other choice. Even Mother couldn’t complain too much—she knew how badly we needed the extra money.

“Are you coming?” I asked.

“The salt will dry out our skin. Mother will know.”

I placed my hands on my hips and grinned. “Last one to find an oyster has to make dinner tonight.” The truth was, we couldn’t afford to go home empty-handed. Not if we wanted to eat next week. But it was easier to pretend this was all a game, one in which the stakes weren’t life or death. “Ready?” She shook her head, but her fingers were already busy untying her skirt and tugging down her tunic to cover her thighs. “You’re wicked,” she said, then launched herself out of the boat into the clear water.

I dived in after her, letting the pressure build in my ears as I surged past Zadie toward the bottom, drowning out the little voice in my head that said, I know.

*

Several hours later, I was stirring a pot of watery fish stew over the fire when Samiel entered our house, his body still glistening with seawater from his swim over. Sami was our best friend, and the only boy in the village who had dared play with us as children. Not only was our mother strict beyond reason, our father was also the governor’s best friend. Sami was exempt from Mother’s scolding, however, seeing as his father was the governor.

“Don’t tell me Zadie found an oyster before you did,” he teased. Sami was as competitive as I was, but Zadie had gotten lucky today. The oyster lay on a small driftwood table nearby, already shucked and sadly lacking a pearl.

Our primary currency, the rare pink pearls that were only found in our waters, had also become scarce of late, as the Ilarean appetite for them continued to increase. The pearls were used to make jewelry for the nobility, but they could also be ground up and added to skin creams and cosmetics. Most Varenian families had a small jar of healing ointment made from the pearls, but that was to be saved for emergencies, since many of us were naturally healthy from spending so much time in the waters that were said to make the pearls special in the first place. After the incident, Mother had used the ointment daily on my scar in hopes of minimizing its appearance, but stopped once she realized it would never heal completely. 

Sami dropped a tarnished brass button onto the table next to the empty oyster shell. “Look what I got for Zadie.”

I tsked in disapproval. By law, Ilara was our sole trade partner for all the things the sea couldn’t provide: clothing, fruits and vegetables, tools, books, barrels of fresh water. Even our firewood came from Ilara. But Sami was the exception to the rule. He often traded secretly—and illegally—with our cousins, the Galethians. Over a hundred years ago, a small population of Varenians had risked their lives to set foot on land, then quickly fled north on a herd of stolen Ilarean horses. Those horses became the foundation of the Galethian culture, just as the waves had formed ours.

“Wave children,” the Ilareans called us. And that was exactly how they treated us: like children.

Masters of both land and sea, the Ilareans had access to resources we could only dream of—not just fresh water and food, but also sophisticated weapons and thousands of men. Occasionally a desperate Varenian would attempt to land on Ilarean soil, in search of an easier life away from the whims of the sea, but they were usually dealt with swiftly and decidedly by the soldiers who patrolled the shoreline. It was possible a few got away with it, but any violation of Ilarean law wouldn’t just end in death for the defector in question—Ilara could eradicate our people swiftly and with little effort. They’d made that clear in all their dealings with us.

I poked at the button with feigned indifference, though in truth, anything from land fascinated me. “And what will Zadie do with a button? Use it to fasten the trousers she doesn’t wear?” “I’m making her a cloak to take with her when she leaves. She’ll be cold in Ilara.”

Sami knew as well as I did that Zadie was going to be chosen at the ceremony. It was as hard for him as it was for me, in some ways, because he loved her, too. He always had. I suspected that Zadie returned his love, but they both knew she would leave to marry the prince some day, so their relationship could never be more than friendship.

“That’s so thoughtful,” I said. “But you shouldn’t be trading with the Galethians. If you’re caught, they’ll hang you.”

“Then I guess I can’t get caught.” He smiled, revealing teeth as white as shells against his tanned skin. Boys didn’t carry the same burden as Varenian girls, at least not when it came to scars and sunburns. They had to provide for their families, however, and that was becoming harder and harder. Last year, two pearls had been enough to feed a family for a month. Now it took twice that many, yet somehow the quality of the goods they fetched was poorer. I had learned a long time ago not to ask questions about our trade relationship with Ilara—it was the elders’ place to worry about such things, not mine. And according to Mother, I had far more important things to worry about, like the sheen of my hair or the length of my eyelashes.

But that had never stopped me from wondering about the world beyond Varenia.

“Any news from Galeth?” I asked.

“There’s talk of an uprising in Southern Ilara.”

“That’s nothing new.”

He shook his head. “It’s getting worse. King Xyrus refuses to grant safe passage to the refugees heading north, even though the Galethians would welcome them with open arms.”

“Anything to bolster their army.”

“It’s more than that. The Galethians were refugees once, too.”

I turned the button over in my hand. It was engraved with a small, many-petaled flower. I’d heard of roses, though I’d never seen one before. I tried to imagine a world in which something as small as a button was deemed worthy of this level of craftsmanship.

“It’s beautiful,” I said, before dropping the button into the empty oyster shell. 

“Just like Zadie.”

Sami’s hand closed around my shoulder, and I leaned my cheek against it. “What will we do without her?” I whispered.

There was a pause, then a cough. “I suppose we’ll just have to marry each other.”

I rapped his knuckles with the wooden spoon I held, and he pulled his hand away. “I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last boy in Varenia.”

He placed his hand on his chest, feigning offense. “And why not?”

“Because you’re my best friend. And worse, you’re the future governor.”

“You’re right. You’d make a terrible governor’s wife, anyway.” He snatched a dried date off the table and darted out of my reach.

“Do that again, and I swear I won’t marry you. You’ll be stuck with Alys.” He grimaced. “Imagine our little shark-toothed children. My mother would weep.”

Zadie poked her head around the door and frowned. “You’re both wicked, do you know that? Alys is kind and loyal. You’d be lucky to marry her.” 

“You’re right,” I said, chastened. I knew better than most what it was like to be judged by one’s appearance.

Zadie twisted her wet hair at the side of her head, letting the fresh water from her bath drip into the bucket we used to rinse our dishes. Zadie never slept with seawater in her hair at Mother’s behest, though fresh water from Ilara was expensive and meant to be saved for drinking and cooking.

“Would a wicked man bring you this?” Sami asked, proffering the brass button in its mother-of-pearl serving tray.

She gasped, then folded her arms across her chest. “I suppose he would, since an honest man could never have come by this.”

He glanced at me over his shoulder, then moved closer to Zadie. “You like it, don’t you? Please say you do. I wanted to make you a cloak, to take with you to Ilara. It will be cold in the mountains.”

“You don’t know I’m going yet,” she said, though her posture softened. 

“Besides, where would you get cloth for a cloak?”

“An honest man would never betray his source.”

“An honest man wouldn’t have a source to begin with.”

I pretended to stir the stew—even watered down, it was barely enough for the four of us—while I watched them from beneath my lashes. I was grateful Zadie hadn’t chided him for wasting money that could have gone toward food, but they should be distancing themselves from each other, if they knew what was good for them. If not for my scar, perhaps I would be the one going to Ilara. Then Sami and Zadie could marry as they pleased, and I would get to see more than an engraving of a rose on a silly brass button for another girl. 

Maybe in another life, I thought bitterly. But not in this one.

“What’s that wonderful smell?” Father asked as he entered the house behind Zadie, sending Sami stumbling away from her. Father had just come back from fishing in deeper waters, judging by the sea salt crust on his brow and his wind-chapped cheeks.

“The same thing we eat every night,” I said. “Unless you caught something today?”

He gave a small, sad shake of his head, and my stomach grumbled in response. 

I tapped the spoon on the side of the pot to cover the sound. “That’s all right, Father. The last time Zadie cooked fish, the house stunk for a week.” Sami laughed, and Zadie pretended to be offended, gently pushing Sami aside. Even my father allowed himself a small smile at my attempt to lighten the mood. My parents had noticed the way Sami and Zadie acted around each other—it was impossible not to—but Father was a little more tolerant than Mother, who wanted nothing to distract Zadie from fulfilling her ultimate purpose in life: becoming queen, since Mother herself had not. Twenty years ago, that honor had gone to another young woman, and Mother wasn’t about to let history repeat itself. I was her safeguard, though in the past year or so, when it became more and more clear Zadie would make it to the ceremony unscathed, she’d focused the bulk of her attention on my poor sister.

Father cleared his throat and turned to Sami, who quickly hid the button behind his back. “I believe your father is looking for you. Something about you being missing earlier today, when you were supposed to be delivering firewood to your aunts?” He arched an eyebrow, but I could hear the amusement in his voice.

“Yes, sir. I was just leaving.” Sami turned to give Zadie a kiss on the cheek, then me. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Not tomorrow,” Father reminded him. “The girls will be preparing for the ceremony, remember?”

He wasn’t a particularly imposing man, at least not to me, but Sami flushed. “Of course. At the ceremony, then.” I wished Father would leave and give Sami a chance to say a proper goodbye. The next time he saw Zadie, she would be as good as betrothed to the Prince of Ilara.

“Goodbye,” Zadie and I said in unison as Sami ducked out onto the balcony, where a rope ladder led down to the water. Our house, like all the houses in Varenia, was made from the wood of a sunken ship, but every few years we painted it an orangey-pink, a shade Mother favored that was also easy to see on the horizon, guiding us home during the daytime when a lantern would be of little use.

Father settled down onto a low stool carved from driftwood. “I see Nor is cooking tonight. Does that mean Zadie found the oyster?” He gestured to the shiny gray glob of flesh I’d laid in one of our cracked porcelain bowls. Some of our possessions were traded for, but others had been pulled up from shipwrecks. Mother never asked how I came by such items, particularly if I found her something that appealed to her vanity, like a hand mirror or a tortoiseshell comb.

Zadie and I shared a glance. To admit Zadie found the oyster meant admitting that she had been swimming today, against Mother’s orders. She was counting on the impressive bride price the prince would send to the chosen girl’s family once they married, but we had to eat in the meantime. And who knew how many oysters there would be tomorrow, or next week? Sami had overheard his father speaking to the elders at night in hushed whispers, so we knew things were worse than our parents let on.

“I found it,” I said. “But I bet her there would be a pearl in it, and there wasn’t.” “That’s a shame. Well, as long as I get to eat the oyster, I suppose it doesn’t matter who found it.” Father winked at Zadie as she handed him the bowl. “You’re good girls, both of you.”

As he tipped back the bowl and let the oyster slide into his mouth, Zadie and I came to stand on either side of him. “I’ll miss whichever one of you is taken from me,” he said. “But I always knew this day would come. That’s what I get for marrying the most beautiful girl in Varenia.”

Mother stepped into the house from the balcony, twisting her own freshly washed hair into a braid. She had never dived deep enough to burst her eardrums—something many of the older villagers did to help with the pressure—and her hearing was some of the sharpest in the village. Only a few fine lines pulled at the corners of her eyes and lips, a testament to the benefits of wearing a sun hat (and of rarely smiling).

“Our beauty is a reflection of the favor Thalos has bestowed upon this family,” she said, gazing out the window at the darkening waves, as if the ocean god himself were watching. A sudden burst of sea spray shot up through the cracks in our wooden floorboards, and Mother’s eyes blazed with satisfaction. “We will honor him with our sacrifice,” Father added.

I squeezed Zadie’s hand behind his back and wished the sun would never set. The ocean never gave gifts without expecting something in return, it was said, and Thalos was a hungry god.

Click here to continue reading Crown of Coral and Pearl or to learn more about the book!

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Only For A Moment Ch. 5

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: For most of your life you’d been able to keep your abilities a secret, that is until Hydra got wind of you. After years of being in their clutches, you break out when The Avengers expose SHIELD/Hydra. Since then, you’ve been on the run. Things are going as well as you could hope when you see a familiar face… Could the Winter Soldier really be in Bucharest too?

Warnings: PTSD, imprisonment, references to past physical violence.

A/N: Like I said last time. Getting into (aka only scratching the surface) of the Bucky feels that are coming. Tbh it’s Bucky/Reader feels because, this character... woo. I hope y’all love her/love reading yourself as her as much as I love her/love writing her.  Also 5 chapters in a week... who does that? I’m going to try to space them out more (1 or 2 a week prob) but... I’m just eager af because I’m having a blast writing this. 

Word Count: 1461

Tags are open!

@l0kisbitch @disagreetoagree

You take a deep breath and pluck the Glock out of the air, the knives clatter to the floor released from your hold. Part of you suspects he’ll rush for them but he just sits there, hands up eyes shining and glued to the books on the bed. You de-cock the gun and tuck it in your waistband. Not wanting to take your eyes off him you lift the bag and its contents from behind you and dump them in his lap.

Immediately he begins to look through them, checking each, mouthing the title. “There was another boo-“ the spine of Silent Heroes slams into his temple, admittedly a little harder than you intended, he flinches but as soon as he sees it’s ok he visibly relaxes.

“Who the fuck are you,” your voice is low without an ounce of softness. Your gut may be telling you he’s not an immediate threat but that does not mean you trust this man.

His mouth opens to answer and snaps shut. His eyes look to the books, to the bed, the wall. Anywhere but at you. “I… I don’t really know.” He appears small to you suddenly. Like a kid that’s lost at night with no clue where to go.

The fight drains from you and you plop heavily onto the bed. He’s just staring at the book, at his photo from so long ago. Suddenly you feel guilty for going through his bag, a ridiculous emotion given the situation but it rankles all the same. “Do you really think Lombardi’s is shit?”

He lights up. A raspy chuckle escapes. “Yeah.” Your eyes meet and again he’s a different man. “Everyone thought because it was first it was best but man, Totonno’s, that was pizza.” His tongue flicks over his bottom lip and he looks ravenous, you can relate.

“The sauce,” you both longingly groan at the same time and laugh despite everything.

“Wait…” he sounds excited, like a kid on Christmas, “Is it still there?! I mean you’re not… I was… it was…” He takes a moment, “a long time ago…” with that a cloud befalls him again.

“As of 2007 it was still there slinging the best pies in Brooklyn.” You pull your phone from your pocket to check.

“So you’re not…”

You look up, “Not what?”

“Like me…” you stare confused and he says with a small dark laugh, “A relic.”

“I don’t know how alike we are but no, I’m not a relic. I’m…” honestly you hadn’t thought about it in a while, how old you were. “Fuck I guess I’m about 30.”

Your age was always an awkward subject. You’d ran away at 15 and landed in New Orleans, where you met Nix. He was a few years older but was just like you, a kid alone. He helped you get fake documents, a new birth certificate, social, everything. A new date of birth made you 18, a new last name made you someone else, and a high school diploma complete with transcripts made college an option. You can’t help but sigh, you had already killed one version of yourself before Hydra had even found you.

Google has graciously saved you from this line of thought and informed you that Totonno’s is in fact still in business. “Yup, Totonno’s is still there to this day. Thankfully all the aliens seem to be destroying is Manhattan. They’re smart enough to leave the best borough alone.”

His face breaks into a breathtaking smile that genuinely surprises you. “I guess that’s a bit of silver lining in this mess of a world.” His voice is rich and melodious. At this point you’re honestly wondering how there are so many different sides to one person.

The silence hangs for a moment. His hand runs over the cover of one of the composition books that has ‘Home’ scrawled in a shaky hand. “So…” he trails off. “Are, uh, you from there, Brooklyn I mean.”

You scoff, “No. I’m from nowhere.” That’s always been your answer. Ghost girl.

“Everyone’s from somewhere.”

You stare at him a moment, his face is open and, frustratingly kind… dammit. You slump a little, “Yeah well most people have a hometown, someplace they grew up, but I never really stayed anywhere long enough for that.” He remains quiet, giving you space to form your thoughts. “But,” your voice cracks and you clear your throat to reel in your emotions, “Brooklyn, was the first place I made a home.” The only place.

“It’s a good place.”

“It was.” And you could never go back. You stared at your phone. The little red dot marking a place that may as well have been on Mars. When the screen turned black you kept staring into it, your reflection warped in the shattered screen. When you looked up he was flipping through pages in that composition book looking so serene it almost made you want to throw something at him.

“Ferdinando’s?” he whispers. Then again, “Ferdinando’s,” as though he’s answered a question and scrambles for one of the pens on the floor. You watch him quickly jot something down.

“Ferdinando’s?”

“Oh!” It was like he had forgotten you were there. “I… just something I remembered. Sorry.”

You smile despite yourself. “You’re talking about that old Italian place in Cobble Hill?” His head shoots up. “Yes, that’s still there too last I knew. And they made a damn good cannoli.”

A small chuckle skips past his lips and he stares into the middle distance for a moment. “I,” another little laugh, “used to take dates there.” He runs a hand absently through his hair and writes something down.

His pen freezes, his eyes don’t leave the paper, “To make Him they had to kill me…” He’s so quiet you have to strain to hear, “this,” he gestures lazily to the books, “is my attempt at raising the dead.”

Mournful eyes, more grey than blue meet yours. “But I can’t pretend the bad didn’t happen too… that He, I, didn’t do horrible things.” He pulls a three subject spiral from the pile, thicker than all the others. There’s no title here. “I’m not sure what book you belong in… but if it’s this one,” he lays his palm flat on the cover, “and I think it is. I…” his voice breaks and you think he’s going to sob, “I’m truly sorry.” No tears fall but you swear you could drown in his eyes, in his grief.

A very strong part of you doesn’t want to give him anything, push him away, make him leave. Wants to shut him out. But if you’re being honest with yourself your loneliness is far stronger. And his loneliness… I mean for fuck's sake he just opened up to a woman who he only thinks he knows, who knocked him unconscious and chained him, however ineffectively, to a wall a few hours ago.

Fuck it. 

“No…” You stare at your hands, unable, unwilling to hold his gaze any longer. “I don’t really think that’s where I belong in your story.” You hear him let out a breath. “How do you know me, or think you know me, Mr… Sargent-“

“Bucky,” that crooked smile again.

“Mr. Sargent Bucky, then.” It’s a shitty joke, hardly even a joke, but he gives you a little laugh all the same.

The slight humor isn't enough to lighten his next words, “When I saw you nine days ago-“

“Nine?!” You can’t help but be alarmed. Nine days, nine fucking days he had been following you and you didn’t notice a goddamn thing.

“… Yeah.”

It hits you, “You wanted me to see you today… You wanted to see how I’d react.” He just nods. Small again despite his size, shoulders slumping. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

“If it’s any consolation you’re doing a great job laying low.” You snort. “No really,” he says insistent, “I mean you did pick the same city as The Winter Soldier, that says you know how to disappear.” There’s an awkward beat, “I don’t know that anyone else would notice you.” You don’t say someone already had, in Berlin.

“But… yeah…” He picks up again. “I saw you, your face, and I saw.” He stops suddenly his eyes  staring at his hands, balled into fists sitting on his knees, “I thought I remembered…” He just can’t get it out and his eyes find yours begging you silently to tell him he’s wrong.

You feel for him, you do, but you won’t sugar coat this. “You remembered,” your hand wanders to your right cheekbone where a thin scar runs up from there up around your eye socket, “beating me.”

[elane-in-the-shadows]

Red Queen Fan Fiction - Paradise Refracted Chapter 5

Warning! Contains War Storm Spoilers! Warning!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 6

Find this on AO3 and on wattpad

Evangeline POV

Three weeks of preparations, meetings, and discussions passed. Elane went to every one of them while I attended two or three. I still had to improve my magnetron flight, after all. I visited the raider I’d taken prisoner, Matías DeLeon, more often than those meetings.

General Farley vanished for her trip to Norta and left a sully Barrow behind who turned to challenge me in training, but wouldn’t react to prying. Maybe she already missed that moody eletricon, who did travel back to Norta. A part of me that drowned in lethargy, sometimes urged me storm at her and file away her every word, to analyze and assess their implications for Norta, for Montfort, for me. It was the scheming side of me, groomed for politics my whole life and needed much around Maven and Iris and, to be honest, every Silver. Now it was curious about what they’d left of Norta, while the rest of me was content to know that Norta was rotting.

I had no idea of the purpose of the trip, apart from the anniversary of Elara Merandus’s death, but whatever was happening there, it made things easier for me, as it did for my brother. His every step was lighter when he didn’t have to fear General Farley looming in his back.

But she came back too soon, wearing a strange confusion on her face I glimpsed when she greeted Mare upon returning. The moody white-haired electricon wasn’t with her.

Elane was reluctant to accept me pull away again from from Gisa Barrow and her girlfriend Vanessa, whom Elane had befriended. But I preferred not to meet with the rest of the family aprt from her or Mare, especially not to have the General witness me in any proximity to her daughter. So I’d refrained, yet soon I started to miss those afternoons filled with unknown recreation and the subtle diligence of creating beauty, and took part again. Gisa, Elane and I mostly worked on some design ideas for clothing while Vanessa, being a goldsmith, woke another interest in me. It was odd to watch her melt, mould, hammer and ply those tiny pieces of jewellery when I could do the same with a turn of my hand or just a thought. Did it humble her to see me in effortless metal clothing or in fights, I wondered, when in truth, I was the one feeling humble to watch her work. Vanessa was 16, dark-skinned and chubby with her hair half braided on her head, half left to curl beneath her chin. And she was also a Silver, a bloodhealer. Yet she spent her time and apprenticed to earn her living – although in a specialized field – with manual labour and perfecting skills whose necessity was dubious.

I hoped Gisa Barrow appreciated that devotion.

It was out of question that I also eschewed the ball taking place mid-November. It was the perfect occasion for Elane to wear her golden dress, finished just in time, and she was set upon preparing me as well. I was in for big surprises. Not only did she leave me oblivious about my make-up, Elane also produced one of my “old” dresses out of nowhere, the white one embroidered with small metal plates and sequins for an ombré effect that I’d already worn in Montfort on a former visit.

How?” I breathed, my fingers already gliding over the silk.

She winked. “I have to maintain my secrets, but you know, I came to Montfort with very well-assorted baggage.”

My grin widened. “And you’ll never tell me how much of my wardrobe you brought here?”

Her nonchalant expression gave nothing away. “Not that you can’t restore most of it yourself, if you desire.”

“Maybe I will, but while trying out new colours, as you do.”

“Oh?”

“I think of violet.”

“Purple.”

“What?” I frowned.

Elane’s brown eyes gleamed. “Love, you should wear a more vibrant shade than violet.”

I hmphed. “If you mean no one looks good in violet, I still want to try and prove them wrong.”

Elane‘s laughter sounded like a bell of brass. “I’ve learned that Wren and Tolly chose blue for tonight,” she said. “And rumour has it even the General will wear a dress and I have to see that.”

“Tsk. Are you aware of everyone’s outfit?”

She gasped, then bended forward to brush back my hair. “I know that every important Silver in Montfort will attend.” She was very careful to catch every hair of mine as she knew how much I despised stray ones, and placed a cap-like net over my head, fixing my hair in a way I could accept it falling free down my shoulders, but out of my face.

“Officially, this is a national holiday but its meaning is a little obscure,” Elane said. “It’s the anniversary of the battle that took the life of Greta Radis, the last Silver ruler in the north, and it resulted in her son and heir giving up his claim to their throne.

“Greta was the aunt of the current ‘lord’ Radis. For him and most important Silvers, it’s quasi mandatory to appear in Ascendant, it’s almost like an act of fealty.” Elane might retell this lightly, like news that didn’t concern us, but it was obvious it did. We, whether called exiled Nortans or new Montfortans, were expected to comply with these customs too.

“What about the cousin?” I asked after Elane’d finally lined my eyes in black and blue. I stood up and turned to the mirror, grabbing Elane at the waist and pulling her closer.

“Complementary,” she judged, as I beheld myself in cold silver and white and Elane in shining, warm gold, her red curls falling from a high ponytail, her skin shimmering, her rose pendant on display on her collarbones.

Indeed,” I agreed.

Elane sighed. “Well, the cousin. I confess, I’m not sure. He died a few years ago, apparently. There were … other family members involved with the raiders and many of them opposed the government and their former lord, to die in the subsequent years.” She swallowed, suddenly in a grave mood.

“Unsurprising,” I said, harsher than intended.

She shrugged. “Well, we’re still at war, aren’t we? As we were trained for.” I nodded grimly, I knew that too well. “However,” Elane added, “of course we’ll met Lord Radis himself tonight, to discuss the coming campaigns and our defenses.”

“You’ll have a delightful conversation, I’m sure.”

“I’m also excited to meet this wife and daughter,” Elane said. “The lord married another high-standing Monfortan Silver, a lady from the western region. And the people talk of their daughter like she was some kind of princess, which gives me the oddest impressions.”

I spun my head to her. “Am I not your only princess?” I asked coyly.

She kissed me swiftly in reply, not noticing how I balled my fists, wrinkling my dress. I didn’t know this “princess” and already I felt sorry for her, and her parents. It had been more than 20 years and Silvers like my family, like me, couldn’t stop, wouldn’t change the way we lived. Still playing for power, keeping up the façade, backstabbing and intermarrying among each other. And like in Norta, it made me sick, but also gave me a faint feeling of belonging, of a familiar ground telling me where I stood and who I was.

I wondered if my prisoner had felt the same among the raiders. He hadn’t been a raider by choice, but did he despise or long for what they pretended to preserve for our “sake”?

@clarafarleybarrow  @mareshmallow @redqueenfandom @inopinion @hannaharies @samanthaslytherin @lilyharvord @moikorolrezni @eurydicel @elliemarchetti @gisabarrovv @kihlorn @scarletguardsource @wrenskonos @silverasthedawn @maremollytitanos

[straynctextokids]

Altschmerz

Idol: Byun Baekhyun ( EXO )

Genre: Angst, Fluff, High School Au, Smut (Maybe if you guys want?)

Warning: None (For this chapter there aren’t any, but it will get a bit graphic in a few chapters. I won’t go into any details for the sake of the plot, but I will be labeling anything that requires any reader’s discretion) 

Synopsis: We’ve all seen that one person in the group that hates anything to do with romance and gag at anything related to love. That hatred doesn’t just appear one day- no- it’s something that accumulates as time goes on. Byun Baekhyun who is the school’s class clown who can befriend anyone within a second and can swoon any girl faster is fascinated by the new girl. She keeps to herself and refuses to bend over to Baekhyun’s usual flirtatious antics that usually have any other girl melting in front of him. What started off as curiosity lands Baekhyun into the new girl's crazy life. 

Altschmerz, not Alzheimer's. Altschmerz: (n)  weariness with the same old issues that you’ve always had—the same boring flaws and anxieties you’ve been gnawing on for years, which leaves them soggy and tasteless and inert, with nothing interesting left to think about, nothing left to do but spit them out and wander off to the backyard, ready to dig up some fresher pain you might have buried long ago.

Chapter: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10

‘All happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in their own way’ Tolstoy hit jackpot with just the first line of one of his greatest works, Anna Karenina. In my opinion, this also applies to individuals as well. Everybody has their own story, their own unique sadness that is crippling to only them. My own sadness is derived from the same source for most of my life. Without any hesitation, it hits me like waves hitting the rocky shore. With each splash, it takes a fragment of the rock with it to the depths of the ocean never to be seen again. The constant slaps of the water become unnoticeable after awhile. Pain is felt by someone because of its short lifespan. For example, getting a paper cut will result in a few hisses but it will eventually become barely noticeable and you will return back to your original state. For me, pain is all I feel to the point it has become numb. That numbing pain is my original state because that’s all that I’ve known.

“Babe I’ll see you after first period I promise.” Smack! The brunette says after giving a loud peck to her girlfriend.

Ugghhh… That sound itself makes me gag.

The brunette’s girlfriend wrapped her arms around her neck, “Awww… but I don’t want to go to class without you. I’m going to miss you.”

My chest begins to feel warm as I roll my eyes trying to pass the diabetes-inducing couple. I try to hold back the sigh, but it escapes anyway. I can’t stand these high school couples that think they’re in their own rom-com without any discretion towards the human beings that are trying to live their lives normally.

The sooner I find the main office the sooner I can get out of this orgy of teenagers.

Just as I was about to enter the second building, I bumped into tall, scrawny blonde beanpole. “Ow! Can you not see through those balls on your eyes, or are you trying to get your lipstick on my new white sweater? I swear every time I buy something new someone decides it’s a good idea to ruin it. That it! I will never buy any more new clothes. It’s the thrift shop from now on. Did you know tha-”

“I am so sorry, but I need to find the main office so my ears won’t run down from your blabbing.” Wow… this guy I have no doubt could have gone off for the whole evening if I didn’t say something.

He looked down at me with a raised eyebrow and swung his palm in front of my face waiting for a high five. “I love you. Your sarcastic nature along with that attitude… I can see us being best frie- Are you just going to leave me hanging or…”

I just slipped around him having no time to indulge in any of shit. Still, with no clue as to how to get to the main office, I walked around for at least ditching this beanpole kid. Unfortunately, my neck swung forwards from his arm around my shoulders. “Did me leaving you not give you the hint of me not wanting to talk to you?”

Beanpole just waved his hand around, “Oh please, that whiny voice of yours is begging for affection, and I am here to give just that. I’ve never seen you before which makes your aimlessly wandering around complete sense.” He forced me to walk back towards where I was coming from, “You were going the wrong way Sassy. That my friend is the main office.” He dramatically extended his arm towards the door.

I wriggled out of his grasp and went straight inside in hopes to lose this guy. “Hey, a ‘thank you Jae’ would have been nice… Oh! I just realized I don’t know your name.”

“Yeah, cause I don’t want you to know it.”

“Ok,” he nodded his head, “but know that you will from now and forever will be known as Sassander the first- Sassy for short.”

I just about had it with this guy, “We’re doing nicknames-fine. Ok, Beanpole I don’t know if my hints for you to get lost aren’t reaching to your head up there, but can you please just leave me the alone so I can figure where the hell I need to go?!”

I turned to the secretary and got my schedule. Unfazed by my outburst Beanpole replied, “I will be your tour guide for this hell ride. Where do you need to go Sassy?” He grabbed the schedule from my hands and scanned its contents.

“Ohhhh…. You’re smarty aren’t ya. Calculus, chemistry, physics, math and THAT’S ONLY THE FIRST SEMESTER!”

Before he could announce the rest of my schedule to our immediate surroundings, I snatched it back. I sighed in defeat. This guy is not going leave so might as well use him. “If we’re going to do this, you’re going to have to drop the sassy and call me by my name. Y/N. got it?”

“Y/N…” He said it as if he’s getting used to the taste of the name. He smiled at me brightly and said, “Ok Y/N, let’s get going. Fortunately for you, I take chemistry with you so you can tag along.”

Before he could push me out of the office I asked, “You didn’t tell me your name. You ok with Beanpole for the rest of the year?” He replied with a snort.

“Park Jaehyung, but the sake of the hundreds of other Jaehyungs in the school, just call me Jae.” He just continued to drag me to a hallway lined with classrooms until he pushed me into one.

There were students already sitting on top of tables claiming them as theirs. Groups of friends that have been already established since elementary made it hard for me find an unclaimed seat.

Jae walked passed me as he waved at a guy with silver purplish hair. He waved for me to follow him and I did. As much as I hate to admit it, Jae is the only person I know from this whole school and the only one I can call a friend at the moment.

Jae sat next to the Silver purplish hair guy and nodded towards the seat in front of him for me. I accepted his proposal without complaint. The groups of people chatting away intimidated me. The fear of not fitting in hit me suddenly. I scoffed at myself. For a person who moves around as much s I do with my family, you’d expect me to be more comfortable with approaching others, but my current anxious state will prove you otherwise.

“Brian, this is Y/N. Y/N this is Brian.” Jae adjusted his glasses as he spoke.

Before I could say anything Brian hit Jae from behind. “It’s YoungK, not Brian. How many time do I have to tell you guys that it’s YoungK!”

Jae just laughed and leaned forward, “This guy has been trying to get everyone to call him YoungK since we started a band a few years ago.” Jae continued to laugh as YoungK kicked him.

“You guys have a band? You and Brian?” I’ve always loved small bands. They have the sincerity to them that most popular artists fail to have. I wanted to join one so bad for years.

YoungK groaned. Jae’s laughter got louder. “Brian…. Oh man… Did I tell you that…I love you?” He tried to speak as he was laughing.

“Anyways can you tell me about your band?” YoungK glared at me while Jae was still laughing his head off.

I knew I wouldn’t be getting any answer anytime soon so I turned around waiting for the teacher to arrive and finally start this day already. With still 10 minutes until class starts, I grabbed my earbuds and closed my eyes as I listened to the traditional Chinese instrumental music.

The instruments were drowning the world around effortlessly. My fingers followed along with the tune.

My relaxation was interrupted my knock on my desk. At first, I ignored it and pretended to not acknowledge the presence in front of me. I could all of a sudden feel someone inching towards my face. The stranger's breath was fanning on to my face by the time I opened my eyes.

A boy with soft dark chocolate eyes was staring at me. The front of his black bangs was fluttering softly against my forehead. His slightly pink tinted lips lifted upwards to a hint of a smile. The way he was looking at me could have melted me without a second thought if it weren’t for the fact that he stopped my little relaxation session. “I’ll give you to a count of three for you to get you large head out of my field of vision.”

Thump! I slammed my forehead against the guy. To be fair I did give him three seconds. The class that was minding to their own social groups had their full attention on the boy on the floor holding his head groaning in pain.

Another guy-presuming this boy’s friend- stepped forward towards me, but was immediately stopped by a shorter boy with a buzzcut. His large eyes were staring at as a warning to not pull any more stunts and I just turned the volume of my phone.

The boy on the floor rose up and plucked my earbuds from my ears and placed his face in front of my face once more. I started learning towards his face and just as I was about few centimeters away from his plump lips, I was pulled back by a hand. “Sassy I need you to hold in any remarks you have about this guy unless you want to be public enemy number 1,” Jae whispered against my ear. It took everything in me to not punch his perfectly sculptured nose, thinking about how I should at least be civil with the people I’m going to graduate with this year. My voice reflected my seething emotions, “Could you please give them back to me.”

The dark haired boy gave me no reply and just kept his hint of a smile on his face- mocking me. I turned my head sidewards towards Jae, “Who the hell is he?”

“Byun Baekhyun, just the most beloved person in school. I’ll tell you everything later, just don’t do anything stupid.”

I reached out towards the dangling earbuds, but he pulled them back. Now I had just about enough with this guy.

Three loud thuds echoed through the room. The sound came from the stick held by a middle-aged man in front of the teacher’s table. The students bolted to their seats without any objections. Baekhyun kept dangling my earbuds playfully knowing I was watching him as he took his seat.

The teacher began introductions about senior year and important information for students, but all I could zone in on was Baekhyun staring back at me with his small smile turned into a smirk. I knew I was playing right into his tricks with me being annoyed and giving him the attention he craves, but I couldn’t resist. There was a part of me that just wants to grab him to give him a sucker punch and at the same time stare into those soft chocolate eyes.

(A/N: I don’t know why but I couldn’t get this gif out of my head when I was writing this part :D)

Determined to not give into his mind games I returned my attention back to the teacher in front of the class. Even though I wasn’t staring at Baekhyun anymore, I couldn’t help but replay the way he was staring at me and the way his breath was fanning across my face. One thing is for sure, this boy Byun Baekhyun is going to get a piece of my mind sooner or later.

A/N: Hey guys, this series has been in my drafts for a long time (along with my other series rotting in there). After some time, I decided to post this up cause why not? If people read this and like it, fine, but if they don’t, that’s fine as well. I just decided this to be my way of doing at least of the things I love again. Thank you so much to anybody who decided to read this. Even a little tap to like this would mean the whole world to me, and if you don’t want to flood your likes list with this crap, maybe message me or something? (Just so I know some like this?” 

I was wondering if I should write some parts of the story in Beakhyun’s point of view. Although this series itself is centered on Y/N, I also wanted to bring out some of Barkhyun’s thoughts into some of the situations throughout the story. If you guys have any thoughts on this, give me a message or an ask. 

[avengemebuckyy]

Tipsy🍺

Summary: You’re just ‘one of the guys’ aka: “not considered an option by the guys”. And it hurts. Especially when it comes to your friend and crush Steve Rogers.

Or, Where a drunk Steve tries to break into your room at an ungodly time of night.

Author’s note: I know this has been long overdue😭,

also thank you so so so much for all the support and feedback you guys have been giving me on my imagines, it means a lot.❤❤❤As always feedback is much appreciated!

Warnings: insecurities, language, Steve being a hot ass mess

Steve rogers is a ladies man.

Well kind of a ladies man…The ladies came to him, he didn’t come to the ladies.

Two years ago you helped put the Avengers team back together and then joined it.

Three months after joining the team you realized you had a crush on Steve Rogers.

Nine months later you were in love with him.

A year ago Steve dated Sharon Carter for four months. And has been a ladies man  ever since.

“Damn he’s making a second round already?” Sam mutters under his breath. Bucky muffles a snort. You’re sitting at the kitchen countertop on a tall stool with Bucky and Sam on either side of you. The three of you are currently watching Candice “just call me Candy” Martin run her glossy pink nails up and down Steve’s arm. Steve’s blushing, but he doesn’t stop her. That’s the thing about Steve. He never makes the first move. The girls come on to him and he just blushes in that adorable Steve Rogers way of his and allows it to happen. Then he asks them out and of course they accept- he’s Captain America. You never knew women to be so forward until you had met Steve. They competed with each other for his attention and seemed to relish it.

First there was Candice Martin, the pretty pale and freckled redheaded agent.

Then Freja Hosk, the tall intimidatingly beautiful, Swedish ice blond medic.

Then Paisley Fisk, the gorgeous SHEILD scientist, blessed with flawless dark skin, deep dimples, plush full lips, and waist length braids.

After her there was Biyu Zhou the stunning Chinese agent, graced with an amazing body and a pretty face that always seemed to be flirting with you.

And these were the ones that Steve went on multiple dates with. There was no counting the amount of women he’d only gone out with one time. He’d seemed to have gone through the whole building.

Now it seemed to be back to Candice. You watch Candice give Steve’s arm a lingering squeeze before leaving the kitchen. Your heart twists and you look down at your cereal. You hate feeling this way. Especially for someone who would never feel the same way about you. You and Steve are close friends; you could even call him your best friend, after Sam. But to him you’re just one of the guys.

‘One of the guys’ ….you hate that expression. Because it’s always described you.

You’re not even lucky enough to be one of those cool ‘one of the guys’ girls, the ones that understand men and eventually have one of their guy friends falling for them. No. You’re just one of the guys because guys don’t even consider you a sexual option.

Steve calls you ‘buddy’ for pete’s sake.

Steve wanders over to the kitchen counter and pulls up a stool next to Bucky.

“Let me guess, hot date this Friday?” Sam asks.

“Yeah” Steve answers, stealing a blueberry from Bucky’s plate. Bucky halfheartedly swats Steve’s hand away.

“Man even I wasn’t getting this much action in my heyday,” Bucky chuckles. He reaches out and thumps Steve on the back. “Who woudda thought that Stevie turned out to be the biggest lady killer of ‘em all”

Steve shakes his head, and swipes Bucky’s coffee mug, draining it in one gulp. Amid Bucky’s protests Tony walks into the kitchen. His hair is sticking in all different directions and he has that crazy ‘I haven’t slept in 24 hours’ look in his eye. For about a week him and Banner have been hole-ing themselves in the lab with a few choice SHEILD scientists working on some secret ‘important project’.

“Rough night Tony?” Sam asks.

“Yeah,” Tony walks over to the other counter and pours himself a cup of coffee. “And not the good type of rough either.”

“But, even genius comes out of my roadblocks.” Tony sighs holding his mug in his hands and inhaling the coffee’s aroma .

“So you finally finished the project?” you ask.

“Nope.” Tony answers “But while I was trying to work on the project I got to thinking about Cap’s problem…well one of his many problems.” Tony chuckles to himself at his, and pulls something out of his pocket and tosses it at Steve. “And of course being the humanitarian I am, I solved it.”

“What’s this?” Steve turns what looks like a silver flask over in his hands.

“Next time you want to relax, try cracking this open with ice princess over here on a Saturday night. If it works properly you two finally won’t be the only sober ones on our poker nights.”

“Uh, thanks Tony,” Steve says hesitantly, tucking the flask away, but you know he’s happy. Steve’s confided in you many times that he wishes he just could let go, just not think about the fate of the world or what everyone wants him to be for once. He smiles at Tony and Tony flashes a smile back.

“No problem.” He downs the rest of his coffee and pops a piece of chewing gum. “Now if you’ll excuse me I’m supposed to get brunch with Ms. Paisley Fisk,” Tony’s grin stretches from ear to ear.

“Never seen you so excited about brunch Tony,” You observe, taking a bite of your cereal.

“Brunch? I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about brunch. Now Paisley Fisk on the other hand…?” He gives a low whistle “I mean have you seen her?….And have you seen those knocke-”

You roll your eyes “Alright Tony, we get that you’re a dog. Move along” You interrupt him. Tony smirks and heads out the door.

“Did he just lick his lips?” You ask, but Sam’s too busy collecting the dirty dishes and Steve and Bucky are hunched together, probably discussing the flask, so you don’t get an answer. You sigh and head out, deciding to get some paperwork and training in so you don’t just lounge around all day. As you head down the hallway, a thought strikes you. Not once has Tony Stark, the famous playboy who would flirt with anything female with a pulse, flirted with you. Not one sly remark, cheesy pickup line or cheeky comment.

‘Damn I really must be ugly’ you think to yourself.  Heavy footsteps jogging behind you interrupt your thoughts.

“Hey,” Steve says catching up to you, giving you that dazzling smile of his.

“Hey” you respond, smiling back.

“We still on for movie night?” he asks

“Of course, I have three picked for you today,”

“Are the going to be as bad as the last ones?” Steve rolls his eyes.

You gasp in mock horror. “Steve Rogers. My movie choices aren’t bad.”

Steve pretends to think “Okay maybe one of them wasn’t bad.” You guys reach the training room. You push open the glass doors and enter.

“Was it the one that made you cry?”

Steve wraps his arms around your waist, effortlessly pulling you off the ground. He starts to muss up your hair. “Take that back! I just had something in my eye.”

“No! I’m telling the truth!” you screech, laughing. Steve starts to tickle you and you squirm. “Stop! Put me down!”

“Oh okay,” he says and makes as if to drop you, making you screech and cling to him. Your stomach hurts from laughing.

“Steve?” A high pitched voice cuts through your happy haze. It’s Candice “Could you spar with me a bit?” Steve puts you down, and you prepare to mask your expression, to smile and say you’ll catch him later, but when you look up he’s already walked away.

That Friday night starts out as usual. You hole yourself up in your room so you don’t have to see Steve getting ready to pick up Candice for their date. But today you don’t even have Sam to keep you from slipping into sadness because he’s out with his girl tonight too.

So you sit and stew .

Listen to sad music and cry.

Watch a sad movie that make your heart hurt.

Eat pizza and ice-cream and stew.

Look at pictures of Steve on your phone.

Zoom in on his biceps and cry.

And then you start thinking about how Candice is probably running her fingers through Steve’s hair, pulling him closer and kissing him. He’s probably wrapping his arms around her waist, and then you start thinking about how he’ll never touch you like that- he’ll never want to touch you like that. How nobody ever does- and then you decide it’s time to put yourself to bed.

 But you just lay in the dark staring up at the ceiling, thinking about all the beautiful women he’s dated and start comparing yourself.  You wish you could be pretty like them. Take their beauty and wear it like a mask- after all how else would  anyone ever notice you? You wish for once someone would see you, actually see the whole you and want you.

Just as your eyes are about to start watering your door shakes. It sounds like someone’s trying to break in. Reacting quickly, you grab your pistol from your dresser and approach the door. The door handle continues to jiggle.

Your mind boggles at who it could be, after all, what intruder would be this loud? And the compound is practically impenetrable, how would they have not set off any alarms? Still, your heart rate rises as you look through the peephole. When you spy a familiar head of blonde hair you huff and put away your pistol and open the door.

“Steve? Wha-“ Steve barrels past you, flicking on the lights and kicking off his shoes. He sways slightly, and turns towards you. You catch the strong scent of something then, like alcohol, but slightly off. He says your name, surprised.

“Wha-wha are ya doing in my room?” He says

“Steve this isn’t-“ you start, but Steve walks up to you and puts a finger to your lips.

“Shh- iss okay, ya can stay” he slurs slightly, and sits on your bed.

“Steve are you drunk?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest.

Steve giggles “Ya, To-nyyy’s stuff actually worked” he sing-songs Tony’s name. “I feel great” He says laying back.

You hold back a smile, and then a terrible thought crosses your mind. “Steve, where’s Bucky?”

“Oh don’t worry, old Buck’s in his room. Out lika light” Steve snorts “Lightweight.”

You shake your head, wondering what you’re going to do with him, when the sound of movement on the bed makes you look up. Steve’s already stripped off his shirt and is working on his pants. You want to say something- you should stay something, but you’re too distracted by the flexing of his abdominals as he peels off his jeans.

“Steve” You hiss, you don’t think you can say much else. Not when every muscle in his body is standing out in sharp relief.

Steve looks up and smiles widely at you, patting the place next to him. Steve really must be gone. Normally he would be three shades of red if you even mentioned seeing him shirtless. You hesitate for a moment before crawling next to him.  He wraps a well muscled arm around you and pulls you close. It feels so nice you don’t even mind the stink of alcohol on his breath

“So” you scramble for something to say. “How was your date?”

“Terrible,”

“Oh really?” you ask. You decide to try to fish details out of him. “Candice is very beautiful”

“Yeah not really my type.” Steve snorts.

“Oh?” your fingers decide to do their own thing and start tracing the ridges in his forearm. “What’s you type then?”

Steve’s silent for such a long time you start to think he’s fallen asleep. But then his fingers grasp your face, squishing your cheeks together. He looks down at you, and his big blue eyes look like languid pools of water.

“You. This beautiful face of yours.” He replies. Your heart pounds and you will it to stop. He’s drunk. In the morning he won’t even look at you let alone want you.

“Stop playing Steve,” You turn and start scooting away.

“I’m noooot” he whines, and hooks an arm around you, pulling you to his chest. You try to squirm away but he’s got you in an iron grip “You’re so beautiful Y/n” His large calloused hand caresses your face sloppily.

“Oh really?” you say, trying to keep the bitterness out of your voice. “Why haven’t you said anything before?”

“’cause ya won’t let me.” You feel lips at press at the back of your neck, and you have to stop yourself from squeaking “Come’on y/n….just give me a chance… just one chance. I promise I won’t mess it up. I’ll tell ya that you’re beautiful every day…” He kisses your earlobe and sets your skin on fire “I’ll treat you right. I promiiisee. Why won’t you give me a chance?” his voice turns whiney again. He’s suddenly too close, too much and you squirm out of his embrace. He makes a hurt noise in the back of his throat and you hush him, turning off the lights.

“Let’s go to bed Steve.”

“Ooh I like the sound of that,”

“If you don’t shut up…” You snap, feeling your way to the bed. Once you’re under the covers Steve locks you in his embrace again, almost crushing you. You lay on his chest, his warmth enveloping you, your mind racing a mile a minute. Then Steve’s hand slides up your body and starts rubbing your back and you slip off into sleep.

When you wake up Steve’s gone. Your heart drops, but after laying in bed for a bit you decide to confront him. You pull on your favorite pair of high waisted jeans and an over-sized cropped sweater. You look at yourself in the mirror. ‘At least I can look good while getting rejected.’ You head into the kitchen and are greeted with the sight of a busted looking Bucky being served breakfast by Sam. You pause for a moment to scoop a muffin from the box on the counter and to admire the architecture of Bucky’s hair, half of which is standing straight up, the other half is at a 90 degree angle.

“So I take it Stark’s concoction worked?” Sam asks, arranging pancakes on a plate. Both of their backs are to you, Bucky sitting at the kitchen counter, Sam in front of the stove top.

“Yeah,” Bucky says, voice rough, “Who woudda thought Stark could make that good stuff?”

Sam chuckles “So you and Rogers have a good time last night?”

“Ya, well until Steve started getting whiney.” Bucky snorts.

“What?”

“Buck, why doesn’t y/n like me? She’s so pretty Buck I can’t take it, why doesn’t she liiike me?” Bucky mocks Steve’s voice. “After that I decided to go bed. I get enough y/n talk when I’m sober.”

“Really?” Sam pries, and you smile, Sam knew about your little crush, and like a true friend was fishing for more information.

“Yeah, he’s such a wimp, I always tell him just to make a move-“ Bucky cuts him self off “Sam ya better not tell y/n about this…I swear”

Sam turns around, pancakes in hand “Don’t worry-“ He looks up and meets your gaze “I won’t have to” he laughs. Bucky looks up at Sam and then turns around. He groans.

“Y/n, how long have you been?- Actually nevamind, obviously  long enough. Just do me a favor and don’t tell Steve about this? He’s an absolute madman when it comes to you….” Bucky grumbles, pulling his hood over his head.

“a… madman?” You ask walking up to the counter.

Bucky snorts. “Yeah he practically beat Stark’s ass after he overhead him saying something slick ‘bout ya.”

You lock eyes with Sam. “Go get him tiger.” Sam smiles at you. You wipe your palms on your jeans and turn to head out.

“Word ta the wise, check the roof.” Bucky calls out after you.

You find Steve sitting on the roof, staring off into the distance. His hair is still messy but he’s wearing a clean white button down shirt, and tan pants with those suspenders you always secretly find adorable on him.

“Steve?” you call out hesitantly “Can we talk?”

Steve’s head whips around and his eyes widen. He then massages his temples with a groan. He must be suffering from quite the hangover.

“You don’t have to say it y/n, let’s just forget last night ever happened.” Your heart beats faster and you gather up the last of your courage before it completely slips away.

“Steve-what you said…did you mean it?”

Steve groans again, dropping his head into his hands.

“Yes.” He says quietly.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me Steve?”

“Why should I have?” he gives a defeated chuckle. “Ya already rejected me,”

“What?” Your mouth drops in disbelief and you walk up and stand next to Steve, looking down at him “When? When did you even ask me out?”

Steve looks up at you “What do you mean? I tried after every upstate training session.”

Your eyes squint as you think back. A little over a year ago the team met upstate for a four days to train at this specialized facility and test out new weapons. You think back some more.

“You just asked me to ‘hang out’ after those sessions.” You say incredulously, “Not on a date”

“But that’s how people date nowadays.” Steve looks confused.

You laugh “No, not really. And anyways after those training sessions I was so  disgusting that the last thing I wanted to do was go get ice-cream and marinate in my own sweat  for a few hours”

“But all tha other girls took ‘hanging out’ ta mean a date” Steve looks even more confused.

“I guess nowadays ‘hanging out’ can imply a date, but most of the time it still just means hanging out. At least to me” you mutter the last part “Where’d you get this idea from anyway?”

Steve’s ears turn pink “Uh Bucky”

You eyes practically roll out of your head “Steve! You know he only thing Bucky knows about dating is from those stupid teen drama shows he’s obsessed with.”

Steve’s face turns bright red “I’ll have ya know Bucky was quite good with the ladies.”

You can’t help but to burst out laughing. After you calm down you sit down next to Steve. “You going to Bucky for advice on dating is like the blind leading the blind”

Steve chuckles, wiping a hand down his face. After a moment you pause.

“Steve, why’d you practically date the whole building instead of just telling me.”

“I dunno. I guess I just thought you’d already rejected me so I didn’t want to push the issue, and still wanted to be your friend. So I just thought I’d try to find someone else…” he turns his head and looks at you “But damn it Y/n it’s impossible to find someone who even comes close to ya…” His gaze takes your breath away so it takes a moment for you to respond.

“I guess that’s a good thing then…cause I feel the same way about you.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah” you laugh and you feel like you’re flying because all the baggage, all the pain is starting to unload. “And if you hadn’t been so dumb and listened to Bucky you would have known a long time ago.”

Steve smiles widely and wraps an arm around you, the other hand caressing your face.

“So. You wanna go on a date with me?”

“Yeah” You pretend to consider it, and then lay your head on his shoulder “Sounds a lot better then just hanging out.”

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