#I am very probably going to put windows on either side of the sword instead of the adjacent walls

[phoenixiancrystallist]

Month 10, day 10

Spent so much time fixing the mesh on the window wall, but! I figured out how to make the picture plane light up :D

[flowercrown-bard]

I have a sentence for you...or a prompt. I don't know what I want you to do with it, but by god please do something:

"He doesn't have anxiety. He just has a god complex and no opposable thumbs!"

My darling nonny. First of all, what. Second of all, I love you and I love this prompt! I made the weirdest noise when I read it. I did not expect that second sentence XD

The thing is, I didn't know what I wanted to do with this prompt either...while being sober, so here's what my slightly tipsy brain came up with :D

word count: 2160

can be read platonic or romatic I think

content warnings: use of the name ‘Julian’ (not by Geralt), one very bad sexual innuendo (nothing sexual happens)

part 2

The spell hit Jaskier square in the chest, before Geralt had time to react and throw himself in front of him.

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s eyes went wide, though not in fear but in anticipation, as they snapped over to the witcher. “Geralt, what’s happening?”

Helplessly but not overly concerned, Geralt watched as Jaskier’s arms took on an unnatural position, bent at his sides. The bard’s head started to bob.

Geralt blinked at him and turned to the young sorcerer that looked curiously at Jaskier.

“Why aren’t you more worried?” The mage furrowed his brows. “Shouldn’t he be terrified?”

He turned to Geralt, who only shrugged.

“This happens regularly,” Geralt replied and his lips twitched up. “Last month, he’s been hit by a truth spell and the month before, he drank a potion that made him invisible to all but Roach.” His smile turned into a grin. “That was a very peaceful time.”

“Excuse me?” Jaskier squawked, his head still bobbing. “You missed me!”

“I didn’t. I could still hear you.” Geralt turned his attention back to the sorcerer who stared at them as if they were insane. “So, what exactly does this spell do?” Almost casually, Geralt’s hand wandered to the sword strapped to his back. “It better not be anything actually dangerous.”

Jaskier might have gotten cocky with how easily Geralt was able to break curses with all the experience he now had, but that didn’t mean Geralt wasn’t prepared to fight anyone who meant to cause Jaskier true harm. Even if Jaskier thought himself near invincible by now.

“No, no!” The mage held up his hands. “It’s not dangerous. I swear! It’s just supposed to…” he swallowed, his eyes darting between Jaskier and Geralt, clearly trying to figure out which one was more dangerous: The armed witcher or the bard who didn’t seem to be bothered in the least by being cursed but seemed rather giddy at the prospect of finding out what was going to happen next – after all, curses made for the most exciting songs, according to the bard. “It’s supposed to make his appearance match his character.”

Jaskier opened his mouth, probably to say something along the lines of ‘I already am as beautiful on the outside as I am on the inside’, but instead of words, a loud cock-a-doodle-doo left Jaskier’s lips. For a second, he looked terrified, before his expression morphed into one of fury and he let out a tirade of what was probably supposed to be insults.

Geralt exchanged a look with the mage, drawing up one eyebrow, when Jaskier continued to cluck.

“Ah, well, you see,” the mage turned bright red, “Marx was quite sure that he,” he glanced at Jaskier, who suddenly shrunk, his hair turning bright red and rising up and turning into a coxcomb, “was a coward and would turn into a chicken.”

Jaskier gave the mage one final indignant glare, probably cursing his rival’s name, before his mouth turned into a beak and his face was no longer that of a human, capable of expressing such emotions.

“Your employer was wrong,” Geralt deadpanned. “Jaskier is anything but a coward.” With the corners of his lips twitching and a glint in his eyes, he added, “But he definitely can be a cocky bastard.”

Jaskier, the cock, fluttered with his wings in indignation and let out another crow, looking up at Geralt. Though Jaskier could no longer speak or make facial expressions, Geralt knew exactly what the pleading look Jaskier sent him meant.

Geralt knew a hundred and one ways to break a curse. But more importantly, he knew Jaskier.

And so, Geralt knew exactly what Jaskier needed him to do.

--

It was ridiculously easy to break into Valdo Marx’ quarters at night, even while carrying a rooster that never stopped clucking and fluttering his wings excitedly in one arm. Jaskier could count himself lucky that he hadn’t turned into a peacock. It might have been more fitting, if Geralt had anything to say about it, but it would have definitely made scaling the building and squeezing through the window together, much harder.

Once inside the troubadour’s rooms, Geralt set Jaskier down gently.

“Do your worst,” he said with a grin and watched Jaskier ruffle his feathers in excitement, before he darted across the room, tearing at Valdo Marx’ notebooks with his beak, tearing at the decorative pillows on the armchair and plucking the strings of the lute standing against a wall harshly enough with his claws that they nearly snapped.

Geralt grimaced at the sound, but leaned back against a wall with his arms crossed in front of his chest, watching in amusement as his best friend wreaked as much havoc in his rival’s rooms as possible.

The noise must have roused Valdo Marx from his sleep, for a muffled curse came through the closed door, presumably leading to the troubadour’s bed room. The sound of Valdo Marx jumping out of his bed and hasting towards his now destroyed living room was interrupted by Jaskier, who crowed again and fluttered his wings in an attempt to make himself taller, preparing to make an impression when Valdo finally saw him.

The door was flung open and a dishevelled troubadour appeared, staring in horror at the mess that was his living space.

“What in the name of –“

His eyes fell on Jaskier first, then he saw the witcher still leaning against the wall, pointedly casual. Realisation dawned on Valdo’s face, followed briefly by a flash of triumph, that instantly turned into regret when Jaskier began hacking at the notebooks with more glee than before, preening under the horrified attention of his new audience.

“Witcher,” Valdo said breathlessly. “Put a stop to this, this instant!”

Geralt lifted a brow. “You got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

“Yes, yes, I proved Julian is a coward.” He waved his hands through the air, his voice turning shrill with every second that his panic grew. “I get to see him anxious and he’s reacting very poorly and I have to face the consequences. I get it. I shouldn’t have hired that mage. Is that what you want to hear?”

Geralt let out a low hum, drawing it out longer than necessary, simply because he knew how much Jaskier enjoyed witnessing Valdo’s growing despair.

“You’re right, you’re the one who has to face the consequences for cursing him.”

Relief flooded Valdo’s face. “Great. Now make him stop!”

Jaskier looked Valdo directly in the eyes as he fluttered onto the table and ruined the remaining notes the troubadour had carefully arranged in neat piles on his desk in the least dignified way a bird could ruin something. Though Jaskier’s voice was stolen from him, the mess he left on the notes couldn’t have been a more obvious statement: Valdo’s songs were shit.

The slighted troubadour’s face turned red with fury.

“How dare you!” Valdo took a step towards the destructive rooster but thought better of it almost immediately. He settled on pointing an accusatory finger at Jaskier instead of risking coming anywhere near him. “You’re a cad and a coward! I should have known how poorly you’d react to being cursed – becoming panicked and being unable to control yourself!”

Geralt tilted his head to the side. “See, that’s the thing,” he said slowly, his voice even enough that only Jaskier would be able to tell how much he enjoyed this as well, “That’s where you are wrong. Jaskier isn’t a coward. His fluttering around and destroying things right now? He’s not having anxiety. He just has a god complex and no opposable thumbs!" Geralt gave Valdo a shit-eating grin. “And he’s got a crow to pluck with you.”

“He-“ Valdo visibly had to restrain himself. “Help me, witcher. You can’t just let this monster destroy my property. He…he-!”

“You want me to get rid of a monster for you?”

Valdo nodded eagerly.

Geralt exchanged a look with Jaskier and shrugged.

“I don’t work for free.”

Valdo spluttered. “You can’t be serious.”

Geralt remained silent and Jaskier took a threatening step towards the open door to Valdo’s bedroom, obviously with the intent of destroying Valdo’s bed in any way he could think of. Panic flashed across Valdo’s face.

“I’ll pay you!” he shouted quickly. “I – I’ll write a sing about you. If you help me, I’ll sing about…” his eyes darted around the room, clearly struggling to come up with something on the spot. His gaze found Jaskier, before he grabbed Geralt’s arm, licking his lips nervously, or perhaps in an attempt to look seductive, “ – about how masterfully you handle cock.”

Jaskier froze and Geralt could see the moment when Valdo realised that he had said the wrong fucking thing.

If cocks could look murderous, Jaskier definitely did in this moment.

Geralt couldn’t tell if his rage came from the prospect of Valdo writing a song about this encounter and making a profit out of it, or if he was indignant because Jaskier had had the exact same idea for a song. Or perhaps he had a problem with Valdo’s barely concealed attempt at compromising Geralt, something Jaskier himself had taken great joy in doing with the worst possible pick-up lines, since the day they had met.

Whatever the reason for his anger, Jaskier took a deliberate pause, in which Valdo had enough time to regret every decision that had led up to this moment, before he charged at the troubadour, fluttering his wings and jumping up into Valdo’s face, clawing at his curls and tearing at his lacy night shirt.

“Witcher!” Valdo screeched, not unlike a rooster himself, and waved his arms to shoo Jaskier off – unsuccessfully. “Make him go away! Break the fucking curse! I – I’ll pay you! Twenty crowns!”

“Seventy,” Geralt deadpanned. No one in their right mind would pay that much coin, but Valdo Marx was evidently desperate and his decision was helped along by the rooster, who’s beak came dangerously close to tugging at the troubadour’s moustache.

“Fine! I’ll pay you seventy crowns.” Valdo’s voice broke in his blind panic. He would likely be unable to sing the next day, from all the shouting he did. “Just get him off of me!”

Geralt waited another heartbeat, granting Jaskier a last moment of rightful – and undoubtedly petty – vengeance, before pushing off the wall, opening his arms invitingly.

“Jaskier?”

Jaskier clucked in disappointment and pecked one last time at Valdo’s hair, before fluttering into Geralt’s arms.

The witcher left the troubadour’s rooms with his best friend, still in the form of a very smug cock in his arms, seventy crows richer and an experience he and Jaskier would laugh about many times over the next years.

--

As Geralt sat the rooster down on the bed at the room they had rented and let himself fall onto the bed next to him, Jaskier looked incredibly pleased with himself, preening and making noises, as if recounting the happenings, though Geralt had witnessed them first- hand.

When Geralt tilted his head in amusement, Jaskier seemed to realise that he still had no voice – or opposable thumbs - and let out a rather loud and obnoxious noise.

“Sorry,” Geralt said with a shit-eating grin, “I have no idea what you want from me. You’ll have to speak more clearly.”

Jaskier glared at him and fluttered closer to tug at Geralt’s hair impatiently.

Geralt chuckled and ran a hand over Jaskier’s soft feathers, making the bird-bard relax under his ministrations, though it was clear that Jaskier did so very reluctantly and would hold a grudge, if Geralt didn’t break the curse in the next five minutes.

Geralt hummed thoughtfully as he petted Jaskier.

“Just for the record, I thought taking revenge on Marx was a terrible idea,” he said, and when Jaskier clucked reproachfully, he added, “but it was quite impressive. And I had a lot of fun watching you.”

Geralt hadn’t known that cocks had the ability to look proud, but Jaskier somehow managed to do just that.

“In fact,” Geralt said slowly, already knowing that Jaskier would agree, once he heard Geralt’s full proposition, “how would you like to wait just a little longer before I break the curse?”

Jaskier pecked at Geralt’s fingers and glared at him.

“Come to Kaer Morhen with me,” Geralt said, flicking his fingers lightly against Jaskier’s beak. At his words, Jaskier perked up, cocking his head to the side curiously.

“Last winter, Lambert destroyed my room with a moon dust bomb. The damn silver shavings are still everywhere.” Geralt’s lips stretched into a wolfish grin. “I’m sure, as my ‘best friend in the whole wide world’, you wouldn’t mind returning the favour and wreaking a little havoc in my brother’s room. I couldn’t imagine anyone would be better suited for that job than you.”

Jaskier fluttered excitedly into Geralt’s lap and the sound he made in response to Geralt’s words could only be described as incredibly cocky.

[aminiatureworld]

Affection II

Characters: Childe, Ganyu, Kaeya, gn!reader

Word Count: 5,577

Warnings: None

Premise: Sometime we know something is impossible from the start. But still we walk towards it, even if we know it will hurt us. It’s only flirting, only a smile or a hug or some food. Even if nothing comes of it, there is nothing to regret. Even if it hurts.

In which the reader gives affection, expecting nothing in return.

Author’s Note: Evidently I’ve really missed writing these properly. I had such a great time writing, and I hope you guys enjoy these just as much as I did.

Also I’ve decided the version on Ao3 will now always be without bullet points, so if you prefer that format the link will be in the reblog.

Childe

You’d been floored by Childe pretty much since the day you two had met.

What had turned into the two of you meeting had started out a most unfavorable encounter. You’d gone to Lingju Pass, trying to survey some of the carvings of the old structure, and attempting to see the sort of methods used to construct such vast rocky complexes at the time. Unfortunately this goal had quickly turned into a goal of “don’t get caught”, as you’d found the Pass crawling with Fatui members. Though you weren’t nearly helpless, you’d also not come prepared for battle; and had spent most of the “fight” dodging around various blows while trying not to drop the expensive equipment that you’d borrowed from other Guild members.

Just as you’d come to the conclusion that the options were either drop everything and run or get thoroughly injured by a bunch of arrogant Snezhnayan soldiers there was a change in the air. The Fatui soldiers’ expression turned from one of glee to one of confusion, and then one of panic, as one by one a streak of blue began to throw them this way and that. As you regained focus of the terrain your realized that it wasn’t a streak at all but a person, a person who was wildly adept at sword play. Eventually the number of unconscious people had risen to five, and there was no one left but him and you.

“Need any help?”

The words might’ve been kind, had it not been for the smirk on the man’s face. Though you felt that the right answers would’ve probably been to scowl, you found you couldn’t, too wrapped up in the memory of this mysterious person darting this way and that, handling his water-made daggers with the grace of a ballet dancer.

“I’m Childe.” These words finally brought you back to the present.

“You’re a member of the Fatui.”

“I am.”

“Then why did you knock those guys out just now?”

“Boredom.”

You stared at Childe incredulously. Of course you’d heard his name, the man who, it was whispered, almost pulled Liyue into the sea. You’d formed a sort of mental picture of him completely divorced from the redhead now standing in front of you, bouncing slightly on his feet as he smiled cockily. He looked more like a rogue adventurer than one of the heads of a crime syndicate. Maybe that was why you found yourself infatuated, rather than afraid.

This infatuation only grew, fed by the encounters that you had with Childe. It seemed now you couldn’t avoid him, not that you wanted to. What had begun as a chance encounter multiplied into two, into four; soon enough you two had struck up a sort of friendship, one that baffled everyone else around you.

Of course you hadn’t lost all your sense, knowing quite well that the puppy love you were feeling could never be anything more. The way Childe talked about his work, about his duty to the Tsaritsa, made it very clear that he wouldn’t let a partner in his life or in his loyalties. And even if he changed his mind, why would he choose you? You were an adventurer sure, but you hadn’t even been able to properly defend yourself the first time the two of you met, and your oversight of that would’ve surely turned Childe away. Besides, Childe could probably make a partner out of anyone he wanted, if they were foolish enough. Why should that person be you?

Perhaps it was that knowledge that allowed you to be so free in your affection, spurred on by Childe’s own open nature. Hand holding, hugging, leaning one’s head on the other’s shoulder, it was the language of friendship that you two had adopted, and something that you greatly appreciated. There was something nice about a friendship in which one could be so open about caring about someone, without expecting things to go farther. Because you didn’t, you really didn’t. And though that might’ve been a bit painful, it was a small price to pay for Childe’s company.

“I’m going off to Mondstadt for a bit.”

“What?”

You drew away from Childe a bit to look into his face. The two of you were walking along the path towards Yaoguang Shoal, as Childe had taken a particular liking to the Starconches that lined its shores. Now he smiled awkwardly, squeezing your hand and shrugging his shoulders.

“I know, I know. There’s apparently this branch of the Fatui holed up there right now, and I’ve been asked to consult about something, though archons know what it is.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“I’m not sure, I think about two weeks? I’m not sure what exactly is going on, but the troops really must be in disarray if they need me skulking around for the next two weeks.” He let out a awkward laugh.

“I’ll miss you.” You replied, bumping your head into his shoulder and frowning. “It’s very boring without you.”

“I’m sure you’ll be perfectly capable without me.” Childe smiled, one eyebrow raised slightly. “After all, what would you do if I left someday, permanently. You’d have to find a way without me.”

“Let’s not talk about that.” You replied hurriedly, switching the conversation towards something more pleasant. Unfortunately however the words had already been said, and the damage had already been done.

It had been two weeks since Childe had left for Mondstadt, and though normally you might’ve been waiting at the city gates for his return, you found yourself on the familiar road towards Lingju. Childe’s words had been ringing in your ears for the past two weeks, and you’d found the more time passed the more you kept thinking about them.

What would you do if I left someday, permanently. Is that what Childe truly wanted? To leave? The idea made your stomach hurt, as you began once more to run all your interactions through your head, as if trying to find a flaw in the strips of memory you had of Childe. Was that what Childe truly wanted, or was it simply that he was sick of you? When he’d said “you’d have to find a way without me” did that mean he wanted to find a way without you? Perhaps you’d been too forward, too demanding. Perhaps he’d managed to realize your feelings and felt repelled by them. Had it been too much, meeting him almost everyday for some periods of time, eating lunch together and sometimes dinner. What about that time you’d invited him over to your house to play a game? Had that been too much?

You sighed, dragging yourself over the final ridge. Sitting down to take a rest you closed you eyes. You hated that your mind wandered this way, that no matter what you couldn’t help but ask yourself again and again, what had you done. What would Childe think about this sad person laying on the ground, the sad part was you couldn’t answer that question.

The sound of footsteps brought you back to the present, and you let out a suppressed groan at the figures in your line of sight.

“Don’t you guys ever get posted anywhere else?” You rolled your eyes, reaching behind your back to summon your polearm.

“You’re trespassing.” The voice that came out of the Electro Vanguard was so deep and distorted as to be hilarious.

“Lastly I checked you were neither a citizen of Liyue, nor Rex Lapis, so if anyone’s “trespassing” on public territory it’s you.” You sighed. “Oh well. Unfortunately you caught me on a day where I’m somewhat prepared.” With that you lunged towards the Hydro Legionnaire and the fight began.

Fighting when one is already frustrated is both a blessing and a curse. The fight itself was almost invigorating, the first Fatui hit the ground and with it you felt part of your worries fade away, if only for the small window of time which this fight offered. Was this why Childe fought so much? The though crossed your mind as you whirled behind the Pyro Bracer and pressed as much Electro as you dared into the back of his head, tripping him with the staff of your polearm on his way down.

Soon enough there was only you and the Electro Vanguard left. Unfortunately you were beginning to feel the other side affect of anger, that being misfocus. Being more versed in using your polearm as a sort of lightning rod your found the Vanguard much harder to deal with, more than once barely diving out of the way of the hammer he was swinging around, surprisingly light on his feet considering what the weight must be. Your anger was quickly draining, turning into something more akin to panic, and as you found yourself stumbling more and more you realized that today was really, really not your day.

The Vanguard was becoming aware of how fast you were tiring, a gravelly sort of laugh emerging from behind his mask. As you found your with you back to the slope you wondered if it was just worth it to make an escape. The Fatui swung his hammer once more, barreling towards you. Having nothing left to do you put your polearm out in front of you, hoping that your arms were strong enough not to recoil against the inevitable blow. Closing your eyes you thought of nothing, drowning in a sea of panic. If there was any coherent part of your brain it wished that you weren’t here, that you just stayed home, or swallowed you pride and gone to the gate. But it was too late now, and you were about to get hit.

However the blow never landed, instead a loud sound pierced the air. Whipping your arms open you saw the Electro Vanguard stumble, his hammer having been dropped on the ground. He was grasping towards his ankle, in which was stuck an arrow, glowing a faint aquamarine. Swearing the Fatui member glanced around, before stumbling away, dragging his weapon and his left leg behind him like dead weight.

“Some things never change, huh?”

“Childe!” You whirled towards your once again savior, face burning from embarrassment. “I took out the rest of them this time.”

“I can see that,” said Childe, surveying the area, a telltale smirk on his face, “very impressive. Although, if I may suggest, next time try to take out the Electro Vanguard first, especially since you don’t wield a weapon made for pure damage.”

“Is this turning into a teaching moment?”

“Absolutely not.” Childe laughed.

You found the sound catching, and soon a smile spread across your face as you let your polearm disappear once more. You ran up to Childe, and were about to throw you arms around his neck in a characteristic hug, when the thoughts of before came ramming back into your brain. Taking a step back you planted your arms firmly in front of you, hoping that maybe Childe hadn’t noticed what you’d been about to do.

However Childe approached you instead.

“You weren’t at the gate today.” He said coyly, lips drifting somewhere between a smirk and a frown.

“I’m sorry.” You lowered your head. “I just thought, well maybe that would be better. Since you said you might be leaving permanently and all, and since you were right when you said I’d have to figure things out without you, I don’t know, I thought maybe it’d be for the best.”

Looking up the expression on Childe’s face could only be described as one of complete disbelief. For a moment he stayed frozen in place.

“What in Teyvat do you mean I’m leaving permanently?”

“You said that! Remember… when we were going to pick sea shells you said that you were leaving.” You stepped back, cheeks flushed. “Or maybe you were just sort of sick of me or something.”

“Why would you ever think that?” Childe walked up to you, enveloping one of the hands at your side in his own and bringing it up towards him.

“I… I don’t know,” you replied, feeling very confused and very foolish, “I thought maybe that I was being too affectionate, or too clingy. I mean I know you don’t like me or anything like that. And I thought maybe that I was crossing the boundaries of our friendship.”

“I don’t like you? I’ve liked you since almost the first day we’ve met!”

“Not like that! I mean, like like, you know? As in… well, as in I… I love you.” You let your voice peter out.

“I love you too!” Childe let out. Shaking his head he smiled widely. “That’s what I’m trying to say. I’ve liked you since almost the first time we’ve met. I wasn’t trying to shoo you away.”

“What?” Your brain was short circuiting. Something had gone terribly wrong. You’d definitely been knocked out at some point, and was now hallucinating. There was no way Childe liked you, loved you. He could love anyone, why would he love you.

Childe stepped closer, moving so that your foreheads were almost pressed together.

“May I?” He whispered, voice almost shy. You nodded, a just as small “yes” escaping your lips before Childe cut off your ability to say anything more. It was a short kiss, sweet and chaste, and yet you felt everything around you suddenly come into sharp, almost lucid clarity. You weren’t dreaming. This was happening. This was Childe and he liked you. Childe like you. He liked you, he really liked you.

“Why?” You let out, when the two of you separated. Thankfully Childe remained close to you, being without his presence now would’ve been quite lonely.

“Why what?”

“Why me? I’m not, I don’t know, I can’t even knock out an Electro Vanguard without help.”

Childe let out a laugh, lovely as music.

“I don’t know,” he replied, eyes sparkling, “because you’re you. And I like you.”

And all of a sudden you found that that was enough.

 Ganyu

The days that you accompanied Ganyu on her various errands were the ones in which you were most aware that you were on a level utterly below her.

Of course humans could never really measure up to adepti, after all they made the world and humans simply lived in it. Still in terms of humans, well you weren’t exactly pushing exceptional. If Ganyu represented all that was exceptional about the adepti, well then you represented the average human who didn’t like their job and overall went about their day as unnoticeable as an ant on the road.

Of course Ganyu never acted in a way that would betray the imbalance between the two of you. Indeed Ganyu was nothing if not kind, sweet, and utterly without a semblance of hierarchy. It was one of the things that you adored about her, the straightforward honesty she carried with her, and the way that she appeared not to judge living beings on a scale, even if that was the right of those who were higher and didn’t have to worry about said scale.

“Can you carry this for me?” Ganyu’s voice was soft and somewhat hesitant. You smiled widely, knowing that Ganyu simply had difficulty asking other people for help.

“Of course I can!” Scooping up the package that was stretched out towards you, you saw Ganyu let out a short sigh of relief.

“Thank you.”

“Of course! I’m always happy to help you. Where are we taking this?”

“Over to the funeral parlor. It seems that there are some tiles in here that are being used for a specific ritual. Hu Tao said that the family wanted it, I hope she doesn’t actually mean she pushed them towards it.” Ganyu let out a soft sigh. “She once suggested advertising for cremation. Somehow I feel that won’t exactly be welcomed by the people.”

“No one likes to be reminded of their own mortality. Ah, but Hu Tao is doing her best, and if these tiles end up being insulators, I suppose we can’t do much about it. I’ll make sure not to drop them anyways. Getting on Hu Tao’s bad side feels like asking for a prank.”

“You’re probably right.” Ganyu chuckled.

You blushed slightly, loving the way her laugh sounded, soft and open. You knew Ganyu struggled sometimes; she admitted to you herself that it was very difficult to live an existence defined by liminality. Was she an adeptus? Was she a human? She was neither, and yet both would claim her and call her other. In understanding this Ganyu had retreated into herself. Perhaps that’s why her laugh meant so much.

As you strolled down the docks an angry voice cut through the air.

“Qixing!”

Both of you turning around you saw Bolai, heaving slightly, teetering his way towards you. His face was stormy, and for a moment you wondered if someone had stolen something. His words when he caught up however revealed a very different motivation.

“I demand justice!”

“What for?” Ganyu asked, voice deadly serious once more.

“What for? For what Huixin said in regards to me! For the Liyue Qixing complying with disgusting rumors as to the ways in which I conduct my business and my finances. As to the way that you promised to help me then turned on me!”

“I see…” Ganyu sighed as you wracked your brain, trying to remember what she’d told you about the time that she and the traveler ran around trying to detangle various examples of tax fraud. “Have you considered putting up a formal complaint?” Ganyu meanwhile was still trying to keep professional, something that you admired her for.

“How am I supposed to trust the Qixing after what happened? No! I demand compensation now!”

“Sir, I’m sure you’re quite upset, but there’s no need to act in such a way. If you wish to clear your name, then we can meet in private and review the testimony and documents we received. If not, then I’m afraid there is nothing I can do for you. I’m very sorry.”

Ganyu turned back towards the direction in which you two had been previously walking. Evidently too agitated to think properly Bolai let out a strangled cry.

“We’re not finished yet!” Reaching out, he seemed to be attempting to turn Ganyu around by the shoulder. Having been standing there unthinking you now moved to block the action, knowing that Bolai didn’t really mean anything by it, but not trusting the man who looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel. Bolai’s hand instead smacked into the box in your hands, which slipped from your grip and fell to the floor in a great crash.

Time seemed to slow down somewhat after this, as Bolai stepped backwards and Ganyu turned around, face one of evident horror at the scene. You felt your face begin to burn as you looked at the unassuming box, which now looked a little bit the worse for wear.

“What…” Ganyu trailed off. Bolai waved his hands about in a panicked sort of way.

“That wasn’t me! That wasn’t my fault! It was this person they… I don’t know what they were thinking, getting in the way like that. How idiotic! This is nothing but a mess, a disgrace!”

Normally you wouldn’t pay Bolai’s words any mind, but now they seemed to pierce right through, as you realized all the trouble you’d just caused Ganyu. Glancing over towards her you found you could neither look her in the eyes nor stay where you were.

“I-I’m sorry!” You stammered. Moving to pick up the box you found your hand hesitating. Fearing that you’d just make things worse you pulled yourself and dashed in the opposite direction, speeding up the docks and towards the outskirts of the city.

Normally the view from Mount Tianheng was one that stole your breath away. Today however the mountain seemed completely uninteresting, especially when compared to the thoughts racing in your head.

How had you gotten here, how had you messed up so much? Ganyu didn’t need your posturing, your attempt to help. She was an adeptus for Morax’s sake! And who were you? Someone who couldn’t even carry a box from Point A to Point B. And now you’d just caused more trouble for Ganyu, when she already had so much to do.

“I’m such a failure.” You groaned into your palms.

“You aren’t!” You lifted your head at the soft exclamation, already knowing who the voice belonged to. Ganyu sidled up to the ledge of the mountain silently, fidgeting with her hands. “May I sit next to you?”

“Of course.” You replied, grateful that Ganyu was even talking to you. Smiling softly the Qixing Emissary let out a soft sigh.

“I love the view of the city from here.” She spoke softly, eyes on the horizon.

“I do too.”

“There’s something so lovely about watching everyone go about their day, isn’t there? To see the people work in harmony to bring prosperity and peace to the city of Liyue. To see how everyone continues on the legacy of Rex Lapis.”

“That’s a lot to see.” You joked, still feeling a little uncomfortable, as if Ganyu might in a minute get up and leave.

“But can’t you see it?” Ganyu’s voice was earnest and her eyes shined. “It’s wonderful how people do it, how they continue to make this city thrive, to keep the contracts of Morax alive and within living memory.”

“Perhaps it’s just harder for humans to judge it themselves?”

“Perhaps.” Ganyu’s expression shifted into something, almost shy, not quite melancholic. “Just like how you’re finding it difficult to forgive yourself.”

“I’m so sorry Ganyu. I don’t know what I was thinking! I just… I just, wasn’t thinking.”

“You were trying to be kind.” Ganyu replied, something almost akin to blush coating her cheeks. “And I have to thank you for that.”

“But I just caused more trouble…”

“You were trying to be kind,” Ganyu repeated, “like I said, you’re finding it difficult to forgive yourself. But you have to. You didn’t truly do anything that needs forgiveness.”

“But I was doing it for completely selfish reasons!” You blurted out, embarrassment and doubt turning into the words you never wanted to utter. “It’s because I like you, and not just because I was trying to be nice. But because, because maybe I wanted to do something for you, and then maybe I’d be good enough maybe.” Realizing how odd that just sounded you turned your head away. For a moment your words hung in the air, and the longer the silence continued the longer you thought about how utterly selfish you were.

“Thank you.” There was a smile in Ganyu���s voice, and as you turned your head once more you could see it plastered across her face.

“For what?”

“For telling me you like me.”

“But… but isn’t it just burdening you? After all I’m not good enough for you.”

“You are!” Ganyu’s voice was firm. “You’re absolutely good enough for me. And what you did, you call it selfishness, but I don’t understand that. Being kind to people you like isn’t selfish, even if you like them. Because this time you were genuinely helping me. Besides, if that’s selfish then I’ve also been terribly selfish.”

“How?”

“By asking you to accompany me everywhere. Because maybe, maybe I like you too.”

For a moment you wondered if you hadn’t accidentally slipped off the cliff, so weightless did you feel. A bit lightheaded you leaned forward.

“Really?”

“Yes.” Ganyu smiled nervously. Reaching out she took your hand in hers.

The two of you watched the sun set over the city of contracts mostly in silence. Every once in a while there would be a spurt of conversation, but mostly there was nothing but the sounds of the birds and the cicadas, and the pounding of two hearts, hearts both a bit ragged from the events of the day.

For what a day it had been. And how wonderfully it had ended.

 Kaeya

If you could use anything as justification for your crush on Kaeya, he did flirt with you. Unfortunately he also flirted with everyone else in Mondstadt.

“How’s my favorite knight of Favonius?” Kaeya’s cocky voice was clear as a bell, and for a moment your heart flipped as the handsome knight came into view, smile as lovely as it had been the day before.

“Blessed by the presence of our beloved cavalry captain.” You replied in a singsong voice.

The first time Kaeya had used that line on you it felt like your soul had left your body and your heart had run a marathon. Unfortunately you’d heard him use practically the same line on Rosaria the next day, his favorite mysterious nun, robbing you of your fantasy in which Kaeya had any interest for you.

Your banter however was not without genuine feeling. You were utterly infatuated with Kaeya, having fallen for the handsome knight about two weeks into your own training. Originally having been an adventurer you’d joined the knights relatively recently after a series of Abyss attacks on the City of Freedom. As such Kaeya had by then already occupied an exalted position among the ranks, and the hours of being trained, teased, and flirted at by the mysterious cavalry captain had been enough to throw you head over heels.

Not that you’d ever expect things to develop more than they already had. Having a crush on the flirtiest man in Mondstadt did mean that you were praised every once in a while, but it also meant that the praise meant little more than empty words, and that there was always someone else who had heard them. Not that you begrudged those people, not knowing them or not caring. It was Kaeya’s right to be as he was, flirty and irreverent; and you’d never ask him to change that part of himself, or any other.

To do so would be to change the person you’d grown to love.

You trotted up the steps of the Favonius headquarters, opening the door with a slight “oof” before stepping into the cool building. Today was going to be a quiet sort of day for the knights, and you’d been assigned to pick up a few books from Jean’s office to be recorded by Lisa before being sent off to the Church. Going to open the door you paused at the voices inside.

“– saying it’s nothing.”

“And I’m saying that it’s becoming a distraction. I don’t want to control your actions Kaeya, but this pining has been slowing down your work, and we need you as one of our most crucial members to be on top of things.”

“I’m not pining.”

“What do you mean you aren’t pining,” Jean let out a snort, “as if it’s not obvious to everyone around you. Look, I’m not saying you have to break things off –”

“Good, because they haven’t even begun.”

“Then maybe that’s part of your problem. Maybe if you told them you liked them then you’d be able to get back on track.”

“I’m doing my best.”

“You aren’t doing anything. And that’s the problem.”

You didn’t hear the rest of the conversation, having made your way over to the library as to make sure that you were get caught, and to cool your head in regards to what you’d just heard.

So Kaeya liked someone. You shouldn’t’ve really been surprised. Kaeya was a wonderful person; intelligent, good with a weapon, polite, handsome. What person wouldn’t fall in love with him? And when everyone’s in love with you, well, it was unsurprising that eventually Kaeya would find someone who he loved back just as much. Then, why did it hurt?

You fought the urge to wrack your brain for the people Kaeya spoke most about, finding the act beneath you. Still, your mind wandered. Perhaps it was Rosaria after all, or maybe it was only because you remembered her. Perhaps it was the sword smith who came twice monthly to check up on the weaponry. Or perhaps it was the tailor, who could sew anything with the utmost care. Or perhaps it was a musician, or an archivist, or another knight. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

Your head swam and you found your eyes stinging. Now wasn’t the time to cry, not when you needed to honor your appointment with Jean, not when you were somewhere where any one of your colleagues might discover you. Not where Kaeya might walk in any minute and realize what you’d done. This thought finally brought you out of the spiral of your mind. Making sure that any tears that might’ve escaped were wiped away you took a deep breath, steadying yourself before you walked out of the library and into Jean’s office.

Evidently you must’ve looked much worse than you thought, for Jean took one look at you and ordered you home, grumbling about how much trouble there had been recently. You thanked her half-heartedly before making your way out of the Headquarters, heart heavy as lead. At least work would’ve been a welcome distraction.

Arriving home you saw what Jean meant. Though you weren’t particularly teary, your face had taken on an ashen pallor that made it look like you’d either just gotten a shock, fainted, or had suddenly contracted consumption. Letting out a sigh you collapsed on the couch of your apartment. You knew you should probably do something, should eat or work on some extra work or something. But right now you didn’t want to do any of that. You just wanted to forget.

The knock that sounded at your door was extremely unwelcome, and you bit back bitter words as you made your way over to the door. Any protest however was silenced at the sight of Kaeya, hair slightly tussled, expression opaque, on your doorstep.

“Kaeya.” You meant to sound more peppy, but the action felt too tiring. “What’re you doing here?”

“Making sure that you’re alright. Jean told me that you looked unwell, and we can’t have our best knight getting sick, now can we?”

“I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

You went to turn around, when Kaeya reached over and place his hand on your forehead. Freezing you let out a sound somewhere between a strangled cry and a shriek. Kaeya didn’t react to this however, or the red quickly spreading across the bridge of your nose. Instead he let out a sigh, before smiling, something which also caused your heart to seize up.

“Not running a fever. I’m glad. Do you know what’s wrong by any chance?”

“Yes. No! I mean, I think, I, I just need rest.”

“You can tell me if something’s wrong. I might not be able to help, but I can try. Consider it the duty of the Cavalry Captain. Have to keep up appearances, even among the ranks.”

“Really Kaeya, I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.” Kaeya’s eye seemed to pierce through your soul. “You seem… upset, exhausted. Please, let me help.”

“I can’t…” Your voice cracked and you turned your head away, mortified by your inability to control yourself.

“What do you mean you can’t?” Kaeya’s voice was filled with sudden worry. “Is someone doing something to you?”

“No! No one is. I just can’t because, because it’d be selfish.”

“What do you mean?” Kaeya’s tone had become utterly perplexed, and for a moment you felt the crazy urge to laugh. As if it wasn’t painfully obvious why you couldn’t. This was so tiring. You were so tired.

“Because it’s not fair of me to take away your happiness just because of my own feelings.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I heard you talking to Jean,” you explain, face burning, “she said that you liked someone. Or maybe you did, I don’t remember. Anyways you like someone and it’s not fair of that to hurt me, I have no right to your feelings. But, but it hurts, it really, really hurts.”

The silence when you finished was miserable. You weren’t even looking up at Kaeya, not wanting to see the destruction of a friendship you valued so much.

“Have you considered that the person I’m so infatuated with might be you?”

When you looked up you caught a wave of emotions, similar in strength to the ones currently going through you, plastered over Kaeya’s face. Happiness, sadness, regret, relief; all these things danced in his eyes. In that moment you loved him even more for it, for knowing that he understood, and that he too couldn’t hide the affects of having someone you loved so close and yet so far.

Saying nothing you walked over and slowly stretched your hand out. Kaeya took the hand in his, and you reveled in the small intimacy, in his calloused fingers enveloping yours.

“I’m not good enough.” You pointed out, voice soft.

“You aren’t the one who decides who I love.” Kaeya replied, voice firm. “To me there is no one else worthy in the world. Only you. And I hope that I can be the same for you, that I can be worthy.”

“Yes. Oh yes.”

For Kaeya was more than simply worthy. He was the one you loved the most, as well as the one who’d now made you the happiest person you could ever dream of.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 20 - ao3 -

“Your brother has been acting strange,” Lan Yueheng said, his voice drifting in through the open door. 

He was crouched down in the dirt, happily gathering a small harvest from the plants he’d grown outside Lan Qiren’s window. Most of the materials he used for his alchemy experiments he obtained from the specialized fields in the Cloud Recesses, but there were some variants that the sect members in charge of those fields disfavored on account of certain pharmacological side effects associated with them. Lan Yueheng had prevailed on his friendship with Lan Qiren to beg, at some considerable length, that he be allowed to grow those variants in the area near Lan Qiren’s rooms – he’d argued that no one would ever think to check there on account of Lan Qiren’s rule-abiding reputation.

Lan Qiren had pointed out that there were no actual rules against growing those plants - they were only disfavored, not disallowed - thereby rendering the entire issue with people checking for it moot, but Lan Yueheng had insisted and eventually he’d yielded.

Let Lan Yueheng grow his nightmare plants wherever he liked. What did he care? He wasn’t using that patch of land for anything in particular, and it was nice to have a reason to see Lan Yueheng on a regular basis.

“Strange how?” Lan Qiren asked, finishing off the final stroke of a painting. He didn’t like it, but then again, he never liked any of the paintings he did for himself – they were too stiff and unfeeling, in his view, lacking spirit and movement no matter what he tried. His favorite painting was still the antique Wen Ruohan had left on his wall all that time ago, a lively little landscape with burnt edges suggesting that it had been hastily recovered from a fire at some point; he’d never replaced any of the things his sworn brother had gotten for him.

“I’m not sure how to describe it. Just strange,” Lan Yueheng said. “I don’t know how many people have noticed yet, him being pretty standoffish and above-it-all at the best of times, but it’s not the usual sort of thing for him.”

Lan Yueheng was like Lan Qiren; they were good at noticing patterns, however bad they were at figuring out the meanings behind it. If Lan Yueheng said it wasn’t normal, it probably wasn’t.

Lan Qiren rubbed at his forehead, suppressing the desire to go figure out the problem right away. “I don’t think I can help,” he said instead. “He doesn’t like to see me, remember?”

“He’s important to the sect,” Lan Yueheng said peaceably, and Lan Qiren loved him all over again for not saying he’s still your brother. “You might not like him, but you like the sect. So you have to help figure it out.”

Lan Qiren did not like it when Lan Yueheng was right about things. It gave him a strange itchy feeling of dissatisfaction.  

“Someone else could figure it out,” he argued. “He’s sect leader now, remember? His well-being is everyone’s responsibility.”

“But you’re the one who’s good at figuring out weird stuff.”

“Do not tell lies,” Lan Qiren grumbled, but he still put away his things and went to see his brother – who wasn’t where he was supposed to be. Any of the places he was supposed to be.

That was strange.

Lan Qiren’s brother was talented and powerful, skilled and meticulous; he was too proud of his status and accomplishments to shirk work. Whatever had drawn him away must have been very compelling indeed – or so Lan Qiren thought.

He wasn’t expecting, when he finally tracked down his brother through a tracker spell utilized on an old comb, to find him walking through the forest alongside a young woman, sword at his side as if he were night-hunting.

“I am night-hunting,” he said when Lan Qiren asked him. “I’m escorting Mistress He.”

Lan Qiren turned to look at the girl.

She smiled at him in a perfunctory sort of fashion. She was beautiful in a way that reminded Lan Qiren a little of Cangse Sanren, though her looks were very different – more refined and elegant, more delicate and less down-to-earth, thoroughly lacking the vaguely unsettling undertones so characteristic of Baoshan Sanren’s disciple, but no less lovely in her own way. 

“Qingheng-jun was just showing me the lay of the land,” she said coolly. “If you need him to return, of course, I won’t keep him.”

“There’s nothing else I need to do,” he said at once, which was such a blatant lie that Lan Qiren’s jaw dropped.

The girl glanced over at him and looked amused, saluting briefly: “He Kexin, a rogue cultivator,” she introduced herself. She shouldn’t have needed to; per etiquette, Lan Qiren’s brother should have introduced them, but he was clearly too far into his own world to care for such niceties. “And you are…?”

“Gusu Lan sect’s Lan Qiren,” Lan Qiren said on automatic, returning the salute. “I’m – his brother.”

“Oh?” she said. “In that case, you must have plenty to talk about. Anyway, there doesn’t seem to be much night-hunting here, so I’ll be leaving.”

Lan Qiren’s brother saluted deeply. “I hope to see you again soon, Mistress He.” His voice was gentler than Lan Qiren had ever heard it.

She waved a careless hand in half-hearted agreement as she went, but Lan Qiren’s brother stared after her departing figure until she was out of sight. Only when she was fully gone did he turn away, and when he did, he turned only in order to glare at Lan Qiren.

“Why did you interrupt us?” he asked, and his voice had gone back to its usual cold remove. “We were finally spending some time together alone, without those friends of hers crowding in and bothering us.”

Lan Qiren glanced in the direction that He Kexin had gone. “I don’t think it’ll make much of a difference,” he said hesitantly. “If you’re alone or with her friends, I mean. I don’t think – I don’t think that she likes you all that much.”

Lan Qiren had no natural social skills, not like his brother, who was charming enough to draw most people in despite or perhaps because of his cool and distant demeanor, but in sheer self-defense he had worked very hard to categorize and identify a variety of unspoken signals utilized by people in order to try to figure out logically what he couldn’t do intuitively. While he was still terrible at identifying indications of positive interest of any sort, as Cangse Sanren was always teasing him, he had gotten much better at detecting negative signs that indicated disinterest, indifference, or boredom.

“She likes me well enough,” his brother said, his tone oddly defensive. “She’s reserved, that’s all – you really can’t tell who she secretly likes or doesn’t. She’s a brilliant cultivator, sharp as a blade and clever as anything; it’s no wonder that she’s kind to others in equal measure as well…”

“But -”

“She makes me feel free,” his brother said, cutting him off. “She’s just - she’s smart and she’s talented and she’s fearless, unrestrained and untamed. There’s nothing weighing her down or holding her back. She bears no expectations and no pressure, and nothing has ever forced her, molded her development in this way or that; she lives her life just drifting on the breeze, complete untethered, and when I’m with her I feel the same, and I’ve never felt that way…”

He trailed off, eyes oddly dreamy, and then suddenly he seemed to come back to himself and remember to whom he was speaking. “Anyway, what do you know about women, Qiren? You’re as frigid as an icicle hanging in the window or a mountain lake in midwinter.”

Lan Qiren acknowledged the point, but he didn’t see its relevance. “If she doesn’t like you, she doesn’t like you,” he pointed out. “There’s nothing you can do about it –”

“Are you saying there’s nothing you actually wanted from me?” his brother interrupted, voice sharp now, almost angry. “Your presence is neither wanted nor needed here. Leave at once.”

“No, it’s just – you weren’t at the hanshi, and there’s work to be done.”

“So what? I’ll do it later.”

“You’re sect leader now. You have duties,” Lan Qiren said. “You can’t just go out night-hunting whenever you wish –”

“You said it yourself, I’m sect leader - me, and me alone!” his brother snapped. “From what I recall, that makes me the one who gives the orders, not you. Now get lost!”

Lan Qiren blinked, shocked at the fierceness of the rebuke, and watched as his brother strode away – in the direction He Kexin had gone, rather than back towards the Cloud Recesses.

This, he thought to himself, is a problem.

It was, too. His brother abandoned his duties more and more often, avid in his pursuit of He Kexin, who he had invited to stay for a while at the Cloud Recesses with the friends she was travelling with. She did, as he’d said, seem to like him well enough, but it seemed clear that her regard was far more cursory than his own - and not just to Lan Qiren, either.

Lan Qiren was roped in by the elders to help do some of the work his brother was neglecting, at first a little and then more. It got in the way of his own preparations, and started getting on his nerves, too.

“You don’t understand,” one of his teachers told him when he tried to resist the notion of spending a large chunk of his time on sect paperwork instead of practicing music. “Love, for our sect, is a powerful thing. When it comes unexpectedly, it is wild and irresistible, like a river bursting through a dam and overflowing its banks. It’s no surprise that your brother is so focused on winning his bride – and all for the best, too. He has to have heirs to inherit one day.”

Lan Qiren didn’t disagree with that, naturally. He certainly didn’t want to be stuck being his brother’s heir any longer than he had to. It was only…

“Just because he’s in love with her doesn’t mean she’s going to be his bride,” he said, and wondered a little spitefully why it was just assumed that he didn’t understand what it meant to love someone. Just because he didn’t feel it the same way as they did didn’t make his heart any less a Lan. “I don’t know why you’re all being so stubborn about this. A woman knows her own mind - just because he offers himself doesn’t mean she has to accept.”

“Stop saying such inauspicious things,” his teacher scolded. “You should be wishing your brother luck, instead.”

“He doesn’t need luck,” another teacher, the one for swordsmanship, put in. “He needs more of a backbone. Doesn’t she have a father he can talk to?”

That started up another debate on the relevance of the opinion of the young in setting their own marriages, an old classic, and Lan Qiren sighed and took his leave. He winced when he realized that his brother was not far away, standing with He Kexin in one of the nearby gardens – at his brother’s cultivation level, there was little chance he hadn’t heard the subject of their conversation, and indeed his glare indicated that he had. He Kexin wasn’t looking his way, but Lan Qiren suspected she might’ve heard some as well.

His suspicions were borne out the next day, much to his misfortune.

“Mistress He!” he exclaimed, groping around wildly for his clothing. He’d been humming his way through a new stanza while taking a bath, having taken a day off to wash his hair, only to turn around and see her standing there in the middle of his quarters. “What are you – I’m not dressed – these are my rooms!”

“I know,” she said, not moving.

Lan Qiren decided his dignity was more important than his health and reached out to yank his clothing into the bath with him, ignoring how they got heavy and soaked with water; he pulled on his inner robes and, once attired, he clambered out, rather annoyed. Just because He Kexin was a rogue cultivator didn’t excuse her from knowing manners, and just because she was his brother’s favorite, granted the freedom to wander wherever she would within the Cloud Recesses, didn’t give her the right to violate his privacy. “Mistress He –”

“You’re cute,” she said, and he stared at her, aghast. “Not quite as handsome as your brother, nowhere near as charming, and the way you drone on is rather annoying, but at least you have some respect for a woman’s wishes, and that face of yours isn’t bad. You’re not courting anyone at present, is that right?”

“I’m not,” he said, taken aback. “But what –”

“Good,” she said, and the next thing he knew she was in his arms, trying to kiss him. It was only through his quick reaction that he was able to turn his face away and avoid it.

“Mistress – Mistress He!”

“Keep your voice down,” she said, sounding amused even as she groped him in an intimate place. “It’s part of the plan, eventually, but it’d still be a pity for us to get caught before we get to the fun part.”

“I don’t – I’m not – I don’t want – let go of me!”

“Are you a virgin?” she laughed. “For shame, a man of your age. Just relax, you’ll like it soon enough –”

Lan Qiren’s brother had described He Kexin as a brilliant cultivator, and he’d been right; for all that she was a rogue cultivator, lacking the resources of a Great Sect, she was talented and promising, a powerful sword cultivator in her own right, and her grip on Lan Qiren’s body was relentless.

Lan Qiren tried first to get away from her without harming her, but she wouldn’t let go of him, pulling open his robes and even burying her teeth into his throat – that was the straw too far for him; he whistled a series of notes, short and sharp, the burst of qi shocking her grip loose, and then he threw her as far away from him as he could, knocking her into the opposite wall.

“Kexin!”

Lan Qiren turned: it was his brother rushing in through his door, falling down to his knees in front of her to examine her to make sure she wasn’t injured, and then turning to look at Lan Qiren, his eyes aflame with rage.

Lan Qiren glanced down at himself: robes askew and sopping wet, scratches on his chest and a bite on his neck.

“No,” he said, abruptly realizing how he must look, how they must look. Part of the plan, He Kexin had said; she must have known that her brother wouldn’t leave her alone for very long, and she’d clearly intended on using Lan Qiren as a means to get his brother to give up on his pursuit. Very few men would continue to chase a woman that spurned them for their own younger brother, especially one they didn’t much like. “It’s not – I didn’t –” Denial wasn’t going to help. “Do not succumb to rage!”

“Do not engage in debauchery,” his brother snapped back, rising to his feet. “Do not break faith!”

Lan Qiren took a step back, and then another. “Do not make assumptions about others.”

His brother wasn’t listening, though, and Lan Qiren found himself slammed against his own wall, held up and strangled by his own collar, his favorite painting falling to the ground from the force of it.

“How dare you,” his brother hissed, his eyes red. “How dare you touch her –”

“I didn’t! She was the one who –”

The next slam of Lan Qiren’s body against the wall jarred his teeth so hard that he bit his tongue to bleeding, and knocked his brain all around his skull. His brother was still talking, he thought, but he couldn’t hear him over the ringing in his ears. It belatedly occurred to him that using the same excuse as every rapist in history – she was asking for it, she was the one who initiated, it was all her – was probably not a good idea, even if in his case it was actually true.

He opened his mouth to try to defend himself, but his brother’s fist hit his stomach before he could speak, all the air knocking out of him.

“And then you – you hurt her –”

“Qingheng-jun, leave him be! It wasn’t him at all, you’re misunderstanding. I only wanted – ”

His brother threw him away, all his attention drawn away by his love, and Lan Qiren stumbled inelegantly on his way down, his feet slipping on the wet floor and tripping him up, and his head slammed hard against the corner of his bathtub as he fell down. As he sank to the floor, his vision going black, he thought blearily that the concussion he was undoubtedly going to have might even be worth it if only it meant that his brother would finally give up on his mad and hopeless pursuit of He Kexin already.

He did not.

[liquid-luck-00]

My Life is One Complication After Another

Inspired by this post by @dolphin-ghost

Happy New Year everyone

Some cursing 🤬

Ao3 ~~~ Part 1 ~~~ Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette has always been willing to give everyone a second chance. That may have been why she still had people to consider them as her friends. That is why when Lila started yet another lie about some celebrity she, Adrien, Chloe, and Juleka were holding their laughter and rolled their eyes.

"Honest Alya I'm like this" Lila crossed her fingers "with Bruce's kids." Alya must not have recognized the name as the liar gave a small laugh "oh, right Bruce Wayne, he prefers to only go by Bruce."

"Oh my God, Girl you have got to give me an interview for my blog!" Alya lapped up the story.

"Of course" Lila smiled, then looked over at Marinette "Anything for my best friend."

At this point, Marinette wasn't paying attention to the liar. Instead Mari was talking in low voices with her actual best friend, Adrien. They sat on the very back bench and Juleka and Chloe on the bench in front of them.

That was their normal, it had been since their eighth year. Now two years later it was routine, her classmates shunned her only talking with her for class assignments. Otherwise they ignored her and that may just have been the best outcome.

She, Chloe, Juleka, Luka, and Adrien were in the park working on a photoshoot. Adrien was behind the camera while Juleka and Luka were modeling. Marinette and Chloe were changing for the next set. When they came out Mari noticed several reporters around the perimeter. Security had them handled and she focused on modeling her creation.

However this wasn't the last she saw of the reporters. They were always at the school questioning the students. What they were asking she didn't know as she was never questioned.

Three weeks of spotting and avoiding reporters, with them swarming the school she needed to get creative in order to transform. Lila was of course bathing in the limelight and attention.

Mari was the last person out of the school as she was getting the homework for her three friends who didn't come today. The first thing she noticed coming out of the courtyard was the purple limo. Her honorary uncle came to pick her up. As soon as the door closed said uncle was crushing her in a hug.

"It's Rock' n to see ya Nettie" Jagged spoke, the hug muffling his voice slightly.

"Same here Jagged," wiggling out of Jagged's hug she reached over to hug Penny. "so what's with the escort?"

"A close friend of ours wanted to meet you and He and his son's are waiting at our room," Penny explained.

"Okay..." she hesitated exiting the car to head inside "but why? Is this a commission or what?"

After a silent elevator ride, Penny hesitated at the door before speaking. "We are hoping you could clear something up actually," as she opened the door.

Mari stepped in and noticed them. The eldest looked to be around mid to late thirties, black hair and bluebell eyes, dressed in a dark charcoal suit.

The youngest of the boys seemed to be a couple years younger than her, shorter than her by a head, tanned skin, short black hair, and jade eyes. A scowl on his face partially hidden by the collar of a black peacoat and slacks as he sat on the arm chair.

A boy around her age with chin length black hair and azure eyes, a red hoodie under a grey bomber jacket and black pants. He looked like he hadn't slept in at least a week, and if how he was holding the travel mug in his hands it was probably true.

Next to him was another boy who looked a couple of years older, black messy hair about 5 cm at the longest and a white tuff in front, cerulean eyes, a brown leather jacket and distressed jeans. He seemed familiar but couldn't place it.

The last boy also had long black hair but seemed to be layered and shorter in the front, sky blue eyes, a blue varsity jacket and jeans. He would either be the eldest or second, he had a bright smile but kept shooting a glance at Fang.

Speaking of which once she was in the room and she saw him, he charged at her, knocking her over. Mari was giggling as Fang rolled over and she was lost to the world as she doted on the crocodile.

"Nettie" Penny finally managed to get her attention.

"Sorry," she stood "but if it wasn't done we wouldn't be able to talk. Hello I am Marinette Dupain-Cheng it is nice to meet you." again she smiled.

"Bruce Wayne" the man introduced himself, "and my sons. My youngest Damian." he gestured to the boy with green eyes. "Next is Tim" gesturing to the boy with the mug who rose it in acknowledgment. "Jason is the second oldest" the boy with the white tuff gave a lop sided smile. "And my eldest Dick" whose smile seemed to become brighter.

She smiled nodding at everyone before realization hit. A quick snap of her fingers before pulling out her phone, opened up her texts and started typing, ending with a quick picture of Jason.

I think I just met your idiot friend

She put away her phone. Not even a minute later another went off.

The ringing stopped once, twice, thrice, and on the fourth Jason, spoke up. "Sorry I should take this."

"Go ahead this can wait a moment." Mari smiled.

As soon as Jason answered the phone "What the hell are you doing in Paris!?" everyone heard the caller as Jason was holding the phone an arm length away.

"How did you know... you?!" it dawned on Jason.

"Guilty," she smiled. "I guess you're not as big of an idiot as Roy made you out to be."

"Hey!" Jason called before turning to the phone. "What the hell did you tell her Harper!" By now Roy was on speaker.

"You can't prove what I said, ya know," she could practically see Roy's smirk.

"Video's however," she was now smirking.

"What!!" Jason seemed to freeze.

"Bug! No!" Roy was sounding like he was going to start panicking.

"I think I have a few saved," she tapped her chin.

That was when Bruce cleared his throat. "As amusing as this is we have business to discuss."

"Talk to ya later Mari." Roy bid her farewell. "Oh and Jason don't underestimate her." the call ended.

"Okay so how do you know Roy?" Dick finally asked.

"Oh. It was at a charity ball hosted by Oliver Queen," she replied nonchalantly.

"Was it the same one where a baby elephant ended up at the event. Following you the whole time." Penny asked exasperated.

"I still don't get how you think we had anything to do with that." Marinette finally sat down. She ended up sitting on the ground leaning against the couch next to Jagged, Fang resting his head on her out stretched legs.

"I have so many questions,” Tim finally added to the conversation.

"Tt. can we stop beating around the bush already," Damian was irritated and it showed. "Are you or are you not my biological sister."

He seemed ready to pounce, unfortunately that was dangerous in Paris. Especially as she saw an akuma right outside the window. The question asked now forgotten as she focused on the corrupted butterfly.

"Nope, Nope. I am not dealing with an akuma today." she stood up. Took a deep breath and let her anger and frustrations to the surface. The smile fell from her face. "If you want a puppet have a marionette" Kwamii Adrien is rubbing off on me.

The butterfly changed targets and was heading towards her, finally gaining the other's attention. She vaulted over the couch and made a beeline to her backpack. By then the akuma was close so she tossed the backpack over to everyone and rolled out of the way.

"Glass jar, unscrew it" she called out.

"How pathetic running from a bug." Damian moved quickly to catch the butterfly but it moved and found something in his pocket. He was engulfed in purple and then he stood there in evergreen armor with golden accents. A red and yellow cape and a pitch black sword in his hand. Pocket knife, the sword is where the akuma is.

"Screw it" she turned and with two quick jabs his two arms went limp. A third knocked him to the ground.

She picked up the sword and went to Dick who was holding the jar. She took the jar, broke the sword, and went to catch the butterfly. As soon as she screwed the lid on the butterfly began to turn white.

She let out the breath she was holding as she compartmentalized her emotions yet again.

"What the fuck was that!" Jason screamed and so did Dick, minus the curse.

"Where and why do you have one of those," Jagged asked.

Finally Damian shouted "Why can I not move? What did you do?" he accused.

"Okay so the butterfly was an akuma used by Hawkmoth, Paris’ villain, to manipulate anyone with strong negative emotions. These champions or Akuma are used to attempt to retrieve magical jewels from our heroes. The jar was given to me and a few others in my class, because our class is a hot bed for akuma, by Ladybug, one of the heroes." she gave a short and simple run down. "As for Damian, those were a series of pressure points,” infused with magic to-take down people easily, "it should wear off in a few minutes."

"Teach me please!" Tim begged.

"I dunno." she started to chew her lip and shift her weight.

"Roy's warning now makes a lot more sense," Jason hummed.

"Tt. adequate," Damian muttered softly, Marinette is sure she is the only one who heard.

"Okay so where were we?" she smiled turning and sitting back down with Fang.

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @dolphin-ghost @unabashedbookworm @bookgirl14 @laurcad123 @mochegato @vixen-uchiha

[wolvesandpetals]

Loki x Sylvie Playing House Part 3 (Humor, Romance), Rated T. Full on Sylki hijinks, as promised!

Masterlist of my Sylki fanfics here.

---

The first thing she does when Thor leaves is Google herself. Apparently, she was a child actor and made a fortune there, before transitioning into modelling, and later into a successful influencing career.

"That makes perfect sense to me", Loki comments. "If I was not a prince, I would have chosen to be an actor too. Just imagine, legions of fans screaming your name, begging for your attention for just one moment, hanging onto your every word, willing to worship the very ground you walk on. Now, that is the dream." He pauses, cherishing the image in his head. "There's also the money. Looks like you and I will never have to work a day in our lives. We can just live off your money."

[[MORE]]

Sylvie feels the muscles in her laws instinctively tense. This is not her life, or her reality. She can't imagine spending eternity here. She looks at Loki sternly. "We can not. We have to return to the TVA."

"Yes, of course." He agrees immediately. A part of him likes this life. But another part of him knows there is never a gain without a loss. The universe finds a way to make him pay for every bit of happiness he ever gets. Who knows what the price may be if he chooses to stay, with his family, and with Sylvie right here?

Sylvie sets down the laptop on the bedside table, ignoring the danger of Loki's glass being knocked over and drenching it. She cannot let herself be concerned with such simple things. Ignoring them is the surest way to covince herself she hates it here. "I was wondering, if Thor can get into this town, and if he remembers us leaving this town in the past, does it mean we are free to leave?"

Loki studies her features, the resolute glint in her eyes and the defiant stance of her chin. It is clear that she will stop at nothing to get back to the TVA. "We should test it out." He says, trying to sound as calm as possible. "Where do you wanna go?"

"Maybe we can go to Oklahoma? See my supposed parents?" She attempts to play it off like it's nothing, even though she knows exactly what it means- temptation. The urge to see what this life looks like is ever-growing.

"Why can't we go to Asgard and see my parents instead?" He counters immediately.

Sylvie purses her lips, trying not to reveal her emotions. She doesn't remember her Odin or Frigga at all. A part of her longs to meet this version of them, but another part wonders how overwhelming it would feel, watching Loki occupy her place, have her life, her "parents" in this timeline. "Fine. How about we pick a neutral location first?"

"Fine." He replies curtly.

"Fine!" Her irritation escalates. She grabs the laptop again, opening up a tab to a travel website, ready to book a flight.

"LA?" He suggests.

"You just want the paparazzi attention, don't you?" She points out, but doesn't resist. "Alright."

September 1st. The date is set. They will be off to LA within three days, and if whatever being that has placed them here does not want them to leave, they will know by then.

---

"Do you really need all of these sunglasses?" Sylvie asks, after Loki stashes the fifth one in his backpack.

"Of course, I do." He defends. "Style? Remember?"

"Travelling light, remember?" She hits back, taking out two random pairs and throwing them back on her dresser. "Just take what you absolutely need."

"I absolutely need my sunglasses." He says stubbornly.

She can either give in on this trivial matter, or she can dig her heels in and fight it out with him. A stupid pair of sunglasses is not worth the effort. "Fine." And in return, there's something that he has to compromise for her as well. "Only if you help me get my swords past security."

"With pleasure." He says with a grin, and with a wave of his hand, the newly arrived swords from eBay are magically cloaked.

Sylvie looks at her own luggage. She has never really owned anything. She jumped from one apocalypse to another, with only her life, and sometimes food supplies for a few days. It feels surreal to look at the clothes in her wardrobe now. The thought of carrying them with her feels even more foreign.

She looks at the tons of products on her dresser, skin creams, lotions, toners, cleansers and heaven knows what else. All the luxuries she never had.

All the luxuries she does not want.

"I'll just pack a change of clothes." She says finally.

"You don't want anything else?" He asks, surprised.

"These are just things, Loki." She explains. "They can be replaced. I have no attachment to them."

---

She regrets not booking first class. She has been on planes before, using crashing aircrafts as a temporary hideout spot to regroup when the TVA was on her tails. As a stowaway, she never realized just how annoying a plane journey can actually be.

Loki graciously offers her the window seat, noting her unease as soon as they board. She thanks him with a smile, and they nod in mutual understanding.

She stares out of the window, at the town that is supposedly her home, and for the first time ever, she feels a pang of homesickness for a place that is not Asgard. She has been here for just five days now, yet, the thought of sleeping in her own bed is so tempting.

Sylvie notices how she is thinking of the bed as her bed now, but tries not to dwell on it too much.

The plane takes off without incidence, and she dozes off quickly. When she wakes up, she notices a thin comforter wrapped around her shoulders. Turning to her side, she sees Loki sleeping as well, his mouth slightly agape. She snuggles close to him, suddenly needing the comfort of his warmth, and the woman on the aisle seat gives her a dirty look. There's a baby crying somewhere in the back, and what feels like the beginning of a massive headache. But all that fades away when she lays her head on his shoulder.

---

When the flight arrives at LAX, they are both a little scared to leave its comfort. They are about to find out if they are free to travel wherever they want, or whether the action had any consequence. Sylvie is the first to take a step out, and they are both relieved to see nothing happens. The baggage claim goes smoothly, though slowly, and they get a cab quickly. Sylvie hides her grin when she sees Loki put on his sunglasses.

"So we're here." He says, staring at Sylvie, while she stares out of the window.

She only hums in response.

"Is this your honeymoon?" The driver asks.

Loki laughs nervously. "No, no. We've been married for quite a long time. This is just... a vacation."

The driver recommends them a lot of tourist places. Sylvie tunes him out. This is just a test. She has no interest in touring LA. They have their return flight scheduled for the next day.

They check into their hotel room, and she plops down on the bed immediately. "It seems we are free to leave the town. Just not the reality, I suppose." She runs her hands over the silky sheets, amused. "I must say, whoever placed us here has taken every measure to make this prison comfortable."

Loki follows suit and takes a seat beside her. "I suppose that is indeed generous of him. Or her."

Sylvie turns to the side to look at him. "So how do we get out of here then? Got any plan?"

He shrugs. It's not like there's a book called What to do when you find yourself trapped in an alternate universe with your alternate self for Dummies. "Right now, the plan is to get some dinner, then some sleep. Then perhaps in the morning we can see a bit of LA?"

"You want to play tourist?" She asks in a neutral tone.

He replies in kind, testing the waters. "We are here already, and we have the time, so why not?"

"Okay." She replies, a little unsure, but not entirely opposed to the idea. The weariness of the journey starts taking its toll on her. She messages her temples with her fingertips. "Should we order room service?"

Loki contemplates for a moment. On the one hand, she looks really tired, and she could use a good night's sleep. On the other hand, she has been completely on edge and razor focused on the mission since they got in this mess. Well, since they met, actually, and probably for centuries before that. She could also use a bit of fun and relaxation.

With that in mind, he carefully voices his proposal. "I was thinking maybe we can go down to the restaurant and have a proper dinner."

Sylvie looks up, grinning mischievously. She's about to call his bluff. "What, like a date?" His deer-in-the-headlights reaction makes her laugh. "Calm down, I'm just teasing you."

---

It's not a date, but it kind of is. It's a four course meal and a fine bottle of champagne over candlelight, after all.

"Was it like this? Back at Asgard?" Sylvie wonders.

"Mostly. But Asgard was grand, elegant. This is..."

"A cheap replacement." She completes.

Loki smiles. "Precisely."

They talk about their Asgard bedrooms, the similarities and the differences between their safe haven in the palace. An hour passes swiftly.

"The wine is good." Sylvie comments, sipping on her first glass of wine, when the champagne is drained.

"Yes, quite good." Loki agrees, on his first glass as well.

The tiniest buzz starts to take root in him, and his mind wanders into the realm of possibilities, the future he can have, here and now. His eyes focus on the brighest object in front of him- Sylvie.

She feels her cheeks flush under his gaze. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You are just so..." He blinks. What is another word for Asgard's Sun when it disappears into the azure lakes? "Breathtaking"

Her lips curve into a shy smile. This is the beginning of the same foolishness he showed on the train in Lamentis-1 that almost got them killed. But right now, their life isn't in imminent danger. Right now, she is just amused. "Wow, you really can't hold your liquor, can you?"

"Of course I can. I am Loki, Prince of Asgard." He declares proudly.

"Yes, yes, I've heard the speech." She says it with a smile and an eye-roll. "We should get you upstairs."

He objects immediately. "But I'm not done yet."

"Oh, I think you're quite done." She beckons the nearest waiter. "Can we get the bill, please?"

He can still walk surprisingly well, but she holds his hand tightly, just in case he decides to take a detour, and drags him into the elevator.

"Blonde looks good on you." He comments out of the blue. "Maybe I should go blonde too."

She grins. "Like Thor?"

He glares at her. "You're a buzzkill."

---

Sylvie opens the door after fumbling with the keys for a minute. She is starting to feel the effect of the alcohol as well. She takes off her shoes and her earrings, while Loki runs to the loo.

"Why did you book a room for two?" He asks in a serious tone, leaning against the door-frame of the bathroom.

Sylvie freezes, her hand hanging mid-air for five uncomfortable seconds before she awkwardly drops it to her side.

Why did she book a room for two? She could have just rented separate rooms, or at least ones with separate beds. It's not like she and Loki are actually together.

But they have been. At least for the past few days. Why do they need separate rooms here when they share a bed back home?

Home. Sylvie realises with alarm that she's thinking of her prison as her home.

Is this reality starting to mess with her mind now?

"It's okay, I don't want to leave you either." Loki's voice pulls her out of her inner monologue. She turns around quickly in his direction. He's still drunk, and it shows, but he has a look on his face that she has never seen before- a mix of resolution and fondless. His eyes whisper silent vows of loyalty, and something else, something he can't quite express yet. "I will never leave you."

Sylvie smiles, closing the distance between them and standing next to him. Her hand finds his by sheer instinct. "Good to know."

"I mean it, Sylvie." He gives her hand a reassuring squeeze, before he tugs her along with him as he sits down on the bed, unable to stand any longer in his inebriated state. She is grateful to be seated too, and she's unsure whether it is just the alcohol. "I know you hate it here. But I like this." He indicates at her, then at himself, then back at her. "I like falling asleep next to you, and walking into the kitchen first thing every morning to see you cursing at the microwave. I like how you hum in the shower and scream at the TV."

Sylvie listens quietly, her eyes focused on the feeling of his hand in hers. She is trying to memorize this moment, burn the shape of his fingers and the feel of his touch into her brain, so that when it's gone- when he is gone- like everything in her life always is, she will have another good memory to relive again and again.

Loki continues. "I like the way you burn the pasta every time you try to cook."

"I don't burn the whole dish." She retorts playfully. "Just the bottom part."

He shakes his head to show he disagrees. "Can I tell you a secret?"

Her heartbeat quickens. Is he going to confess that he has feelings for her?

Does he have feelings for her?

"Sure." She barely whispers back.

Loki double-checks. "Promise me that you will never tell yourself?"

She laughs softly. "I promise."

Loki tenses, suddenly looking sober. He lets go of her hand, to rest his by his side, his fingers clenched into a fist. Mastering all his courage, he finally speaks. "I don't want to leave. Ever. I like it here."

Sylvie looks away, suddenly needing air. Hearing Loki say that makes her feel irrationally angry. He promised to be on her side every step of the way, but the minute he finds a life he likes, he's ready to throw in the towel.

A part of the anger stems from the fact that she knows, a major reason he wants to stay is her, this life he has with her. Two Lokis on any other timeline will cause Nexus events. But here, they are free to be together. Timelines don't start branching off like a growing vine on timelapse video every time they touch. And he wants that. She knows this because he has all but said it with his words and his actions.

And because she wants it too. Damn it, she wants it so much. She is getting sucked into this reality, indeed.

But she knows she has to finish what she started- she owes it to herself, and to the people out there who need her help, who will be robbed of their lives if she doesn't stop whoever is doing this.

She wants to-

- But she can't.

"Loki, I-" she stops when she turns around to see he has already fallen asleep. Wordlessly, she wraps the comforter over his sleeping form, before crawling under it herself. Turning to her side, facing away from him, she wonders what's next for them.

[kiapet2]

where the two ends meet

The newly-elevated Crown Prince Roman knows two things:

First, that his brother is dead.

And second, that it is his fault.

But when Roman journeys into the witch’s forest on a quest of penitence, he discovers that there is more to the story than he could have known. What he finds there may be his salvation— or his ruin.

Takes place after @whenisitenoughtrees‘s fic thrice for another day. Can also be read on its own.

Pairings: Platonic Creativitwins, Background Intrulogical

Word Count: 4,029

Warnings: death mention, grief/mourning, blood and injury, abusive parents

AO3 Link

Nearly a month after his family buries an empty coffin, the newly-elevated Crown Prince Roman slips out from his castle room and walks alone into the forest.

Unlike past evenings, Roman does not turn into the stretch of woods closest to the castle. At this point, he could likely name every rock and tree and still not find what he’s looking for. Instead, he walks in a straight line, heading deeper and deeper into the woods.

There is said to be a witch at the center of this forest, one who preys on the surrounding villages and whom no man should approach lest he meet his end. Roman had once thought to adventure into the woods to slay such a foul creature, but his intention tonight is far different. He has need of help only a wielder of magic can provide.

And if the venture is to end in his death, so be it.

...

Roman hasn’t been walking for long when he becomes aware of someone following him. The feeling comes and goes— a tingling on the back of his neck, like he’s being watched— but as Roman scans the woods around him, he cannot detect any signs of unusual activity.

The third time he feels the presence, Roman comes to a sudden halt and places a hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Show yourself, whoever you are!” he calls, then scans the trees around him for any sign of a response.

“Why have you entered my woods?” an irritated voice says from somewhere behind him.

Roman whirls around and draws his sword in a single, fluid motion.

The person standing behind him raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. Roman takes the man in: dark hair, a sharp-featured tan face, and piercing dark blue eyes that seem to peer straight to Roman’s core through a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. Despite the man’s simple clothing, Roman knows with a deep certainty that this is the witch.

Ignoring all his instincts, Roman sheaves his sword and holds out his empty hands in a gesture of peace.

“I have been searching for you,” he says. “I have a request to make of you, and am prepared to reward you well.”

“I don’t make a habit of dealing with royalty,” the witch says coldly.

Roman’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Yes, I know who you are, Prince Roman of Thaylar,” the witch says, “and I am surprised you would dare come here, considering your family history. You are either very brave, or very foolish.”

“Both,” Roman says, “but I mean you no harm. If you would hear me out—”

Dark blue energy forms in the witch’s hand. “I have nothing to hear from you, witch-killer. I would advise that you vacate my premises, before I am forced to take action.”

Roman swallows and takes an involuntary step back. Perhaps he should listen to the witch’s warning, abandon this fruitless quest and return to his bed.

It’s not worth it, his father had said after they found Remus’ trail leading to the forest. He couldn’t have gotten far anyways.

Roman straightens his spine and lifts his chin. He owes this to his brother— owes him so much more than this, but it’s the only thing left that Roman can do.

“I only wish to find my brother’s body,” Roman says, “So that I might bury him. Aid me in this and I will ask of you nothing more.”

The witch seems to search Roman’s face for something, his expression unreadable. Then he nods once, sharply.

“That, I can answer easily enough.”

Without another word, the witch turns on his heel and heads off into the forest. Roman hurries to catch up, biting back the urge to question where they are going. The walk lasts far longer than it feels like it should, and Roman suspects the witch is leading him around in circles so he will not be able to tell how to get into his lair. Or how to get out, some part of his mind whispers. He shoves it aside.

Finally, they reach a small clearing with a wooden cottage that looks surprisingly simple and well-kept for a witch’s lair. The witch leads Roman around the back of the house to an herb garden, stopping at a small pile of stones. For a moment Roman wonders what spell the witch intends to cast here; then the shape of the stones registers fully.

A cairn.

“I found him a little ways out from here,” the witch says. “His ribs had broken and pierced his lungs, and he’d been bleeding internally. It was a miracle he managed to make it even that far.”

Roman lowers himself to his knees and hesitantly places a hand on the upturned earth, trying to comprehend that under it is all that remains of his brother. Even now, it feels like all of this is a terrible dream, and one day he’ll wake up and Remus will be alive and driving him crazy again.

“I am sorry for your loss,” the witch says stiffly.

Roman’s chest feels tight, and he swallows past something lodged in his throat.

“He would like being buried here, by the garden,” he chokes out. “He always went on about how everyone becomes food for worms and fungus eventually. If you were to grow your strangest plants over his grave, it would have made him very happy.”

It feels wrong, to speak of his brother in the past tense.

“Might I ask what happened?”

Roman squeezes his eyes shut, holding back the tears that burn at their corners. He doesn’t deserve to cry, not over this.

“I gave him up as a witch,” he whispers. It’s the first time he’s said it out loud, and the words seem to grate and tear at his throat. “He trusted me with his life, and I betrayed him.”

The silence behind Roman is telling.

“Thank you,” Roman rasps, “For putting him to rest.”

He stays there, kneeling in the dirt, long after the witch has returned inside.

...

Remus cries out as he tumbles into the tower room’s wall, jarring harshly against the rough stone.

“Father,” Remus cries, “Father, wait—”

“You are no son of mine!” Father snarls, lifting Remus by the front of his shirt. “Foul demon!”

Roman’s mind screams at him to do something, to run forward and grab Remus or yell at his father to stop but instead he just stands there, frozen in horror, as in one great motion his father shoves Remus through the tower’s window and dangles him out over open air.

Time seems to slow as Father screams curse after curse in Remus’ face, as Remus clutches at the hands holding him above a dizzying drop. Remus’ gaze slides over to meet Roman’s, and for one terrible moment Roman sees in his eyes pure devastation. The agony of betrayal.

And then Father releases his hold, and Remus is gone.

Roman wakes up screaming.

He rolls over onto his side and curls up in a ball, taking harsh, gasping breaths. It takes a moment for him to register that he’s not standing in the castle tower staring in horror at the empty space where his brother used to be— the space that was right there in front of him as if Roman could have reached out and touched him but he was already gone and it was too late—

Breathe.

Roman closes his eyes and listens. In place of the screams that still ring in his head, he hears only the sound of wind swishing through trees. He reaches a hand out and feels loose dirt beneath him. He’s lying on the ground, outside. Roman opens his eyes and sees a dark sky full of stars.

Perhaps Remus is among those stars now. Would he like that? He’d probably think it was boring, to be honest. The thought brings a slight smile to Roman’s face.

Roman sits up, focusing on his breathing. It takes another moment for him to recognize where he is: the witch’s clearing, right by Remus’s... by the grave. It is dark except for the light of the moon— full, a poor omen. Roman had meant to be home by this time as the forest becomes vastly more dangerous at night, but apparently his many nights of lost sleep have finally caught up to him. There’s no use to it now; he’ll just have to wait for the light of dawn to find his way home.

Father will not be happy when Roman returns after dawn has already broken.

Roman has been much less concerned with keeping his father happy, as of late.

No, what bothers him most is why he’s been allowed to stay here at all. Considering the witch’s initial hostility to him, Roman figured admitting to turning in his own brother for using magic would result in being thrown out at best and murdered in his sleep at worst. And yet here he is, sitting in the witch’s clearing un-murdered.

Roman reaches out and touches Remus’s cairn with reverent fingers. He can’t bring himself to regret falling asleep here, dangerous though it may have been. It feels right to have slept beside his brother one last time.

“Well isn’t this sweet! Roro, I didn’t know you cared so much.”

Roman freezes. He knows that voice. But— but that’s impossible—

Roman scrambles to his feet and turns, heart in his throat.

Remus stands before him, illuminated by the light of the moon. He’s clad in the clothes he died in— Roman would know, he sees them in his dreams every night— and there’s a stain of something brown on his shoulder and neckline that Roman doesn’t particularly want to identify.

Roman gapes. “Re, what— how—”

Remus’ smile is bright, but his eyes are cold. “I think you know, Roman.”

Roman feels the blood drain from his face.

They’ve all heard the legends: spirits of magic-users who roam the earth, invested with their magical power and seeking vengeance on those who wronged them. Roman’s father once taught him the proper ways to... dispose of... witches to prevent such a phenomenon from happening. It was Roman’s least favorite lesson by far.

“There it is!” Remus cheers as the comprehension dawns on Roman’s face.

Roman falls to his knees, trembling.

“Remus,” he breathes, “Remus, I—”

He breaks off, lost for words. Roman has thought about what he would say to Remus if he had the chance dozens of times, dreamed up countless scenarios where he prostrated himself and begged for forgiveness or explained himself in a way Remus would understand. Now that he’s actually here, those dreams seem childish and futile in the face of everything that’s happened.

“So funny story,” Remus says, “I’ve thought it over and someone must have told the king about me, right? But I never practiced where anyone could see, and there’s only one person I ever shared my secret with. The person I always shared everything with. Got any idea who that could be, brother?”

Roman’s stomach feels like lead, and he can’t bring himself to look Remus in the eye.

Remus laughs softly. “That’s what I thought.”

His face twists in sudden fury and he shoots forward, getting in Roman’s face and forcing him to flinch back.

“Do you know how it feels, Roman? To have every bone in your body shattered, shards of your own ribs stabbing your insides until you drown in your own blood? Do you know how it feels to lie helpless and dying on the forest floor, knowing your corpse will stay there forgotten, with you replaced without a second thought? How it feels to be betrayed by your own twin, the one person in the world you’d thought you could trust?”

“Stop!” Roman cries, clutching at his head.

“Aw, is baby Roman too sensitive for all that?” Remus croons mockingly, pacing around him. “Do we need to protect his innocent little ears from the icky details of his brother’s brutal murder?”

Tears gather in Roman’s eyes, and he struggles to keep them from falling.

“Remus, I swear, I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“Then what did you want? Why did you do it, Ro? Did you want my throne that much? Or did you just hate witches more than you loved—”

“No!” Roman protests. “No, Remus, I could never hate you!”

“Then why?” Remus says, and the raw pain that fills his voice is so much worse than the anger. “Why did you tell him?”

Roman’s throat is tight and his eyes burn, but he forces the words out anyways. Remus deserves to know.

“Y-you kept hurting yourself. You’d come in bleeding and half-dead from experimenting with your magic and you wouldn’t see a doctor and, and I thought that one day you were going to kill yourself and it would be my fault for not stopping you. I thought if I— if I told Father, h-he would make you stop—”

Remus laughs bitterly. “You thought old daddy dearest, who has scores of magic users killed every year, would what— let me off with a warning?”

Roman flinches. “You’re his son! I didn’t— he was understanding before when I—”

“He was understanding of you,” Remus says. “You are his son. I’m sure he was thrilled at the chance to get rid of me.”

“I’m sorry.” The words force their way out in a whimper, and Roman’s stomach twists at their inadequacy.

“You’re sorry,” Remus says flatly.

Roman’s response catches in his throat, and instead he just bows his head, refusing to defend himself further. Nothing can make up for what he’s done.

Remus laughs suddenly, loud and manic. He snaps his fingers and mutters under his breath, and Roman is lifted into the air, a gentle pressure holding his arms against his sides with far more control than Remus ever had in life.

Remus gives him a vicious grin. “And what if I said ‘sorry’ wasn’t enough? What if I said I was going to have my vengeance, right here and right now?”

Roman’s tears finally overflow, and with them the pain that has been building ever since Remus went out that window.

“Do it,” he sobs. “Kill me.”

“What?” Remus says, sounding startled.

Roman bawls, not the pretty tears of the heroes in his books, but in wracking sobs that tear at his throat and send streams of tears and snot running down his face.

“Please, just kill me. I killed you. I killed you, and I’m so sorry, I’m sorry I killed you.” He cuts off with another sob. “Do whatever you want with me, please, I deserve it. I deserve it.”

The force holding Roman releases and he drops heavily to the ground. He curls up, chest heaving, and waits for the first blow to fall.

But the touch that falls on his arm isn’t painful; it’s soft and warm. It pulls him up and holds him tightly against a chest that is solid, breathing, beating.

Alive.

“I’m not going to kill you, Roman,” Remus says, his voice strangely choked, and Roman can feel it reverberating through his chest. “You’re my brother.”

Roman’s heart feels like it’s going to pound out of his chest. Remus, he’s... he... how did he—

The world spins, and Roman sees a brief flash of Remus’ worried face before everything goes dark.

...

“Roman! Roman, please!” Remus screams. He clutches at Roman’s hands where they grip his shirt, his face a mask of terror as his legs dangle over nothingness.

Roman fights desperately, screaming from deep within his mind, but his body doesn’t move.

“Why, Roman? I’m your brother!” Remus whimpers, tears gathering in his eyes.

Roman hammers at the boundaries of his mind but is helpless to stop it as his hands steadily, inexorably loosen.

Remus screams again as he slips through Roman’s fingers and falls into the darkness.

“Roman!”

“Roman! Roman, wake up!”

Roman jolts awake, his heart pounding as he gasps for breath.

“Ro? Hey, can you hear me?”

Roman blinks blearily and a face fades into focus above him. Worried red eyes, that ghastly mustache, a white streak in his hair...

“Re?” he croaks.

Remus grins. “There we are!”

“Remus,” Roman breathes. He reaches out with one shaking hand to cup Remus’s face and feels warm flesh beneath his fingers. “Are you really here? Or— or am I dead?”

Remus gives him a lopsided smile. “Takes more than getting thrown out of a tower and smashing my bones to smithereens to kill me!”

Roman surges upwards, wrapping his arms around his brother and burying his face in his shoulder.

“Hey, come on,” Remus says as Roman begins to shake, his tears wetting Remus’ shirt. “You’re going to dry yourself up if you keep crying this much. Just shrivel up like a human raisin until you end up a dried-out mummy and someone finds you like a thousand years later and wonders what the hell happened.”

The thought is so gross and ridiculous and Remus that Roman finds himself laughing through his tears.

“Gods above, I missed you.”

Composing himself, Roman pulls back and looks Remus over. He’s wearing simple, weathered clothing, his hair is an absolute mess and there are dark bags under his eyes. He’s the most beautiful thing Roman has ever seen.

“How?” Roman says, his voice cracking with emotion. “I thought you were— that I’d— How are you even here right now?”

“I healed a bit and then dragged myself here,” Remus says. “Logan did the rest.”

Remus looks back over his shoulder with a surprisingly soft smile, and for the first time since waking Roman tears his gaze away from his brother’s face to look at where they are. Roman is sitting on a cot in a simple wooden room, bare except for a small table and worn bookshelves lining one wall. The witch’s house, Roman assumes. The witch himself is standing stiffly a little ways behind Remus, his face transitioning from warm concern to dark displeasure as it moves from Remus to Roman.

“You lied to me,” Roman says. “You knew he was alive all along”.

“Technically, I never spoke a falsehood,” the witch— Logan— says coolly. “I did find Remus with the injuries I described. I merely was able to heal them, if barely.”

“We had to be careful,” Remus says. “I didn’t know, if...”

If Roman felt any real remorse for what he’d done. If he would turn Remus in again, once he found him.

Roman rises from the cot, causing Logan to dart forward in alarm. But Roman just lowers himself to one knee, bowing his head and placing a hand over his heart.

“I swear to you on my life, I never meant to harm you in any way,” Roman says. “I have regretted what I've done every day, every moment, since we parted.”

“Yeah, I got that from the whole bursting-into-tears-and-telling-me-to-kill-you thing,” Remus says. “Which was dramatic even for you, by the way.”

“People will often show their true selves during states of heightened emotion,” Logan says, adjusting his glasses. “The ruse was a logical course of action to discern your intentions.”

“And also fun!” Remus says. “You should have seen your face, Ro, it was so white! I make a pretty scary ghost.”

“You were terrifying,” Roman says honestly, which makes Remus beam.

Still on one knee, Roman turns to address Logan. “And thank you, my good witch, for saving his life. I am forever in your debt.”

“I didn’t do it for you,” Logan says sharply. That and his icy glare make it quite clear that he is not as forgiving as Remus. Roman winces internally; this whole debacle is not the best first impression to make to a sibling’s lover.

And that’s what Logan is, or at least what Remus wants him to be— it’s written all over his brother’s face. Before... before, Roman would have teased Remus about it, and then Remus would probably have made some sort of lewd comment that would make Roman sputter and shove at him. They’re not quite at that point now, he thinks. Not yet.

Roman inclines his head to the witch. “You have my gratitude all the same.”

“Look at us, all making up and being friends!” Remus cheers, but Roman knows him well enough to see the lingering discomfort in the slant of his shoulders and curve of his smile. Remus isn’t as okay as he’s pretending to be.

Roman rises and clasps Remus’ hand in his own.

“Remus, I have done you a grave disservice. While I cannot take back the pain I have caused you, I can offer you back the crown. If you wish it, I will give you my blade and the clothes off my back so that you may return to the castle in my stead and reclaim your birthright under my name.”

Remus stares at him for a moment, then throws back his head and cackles. Something deep in Roman’s chest loosens at the sound; he hadn’t realized how much he missed Remus’ laugh.

“Like hell am I going back to that burning trash heap!” Remus says. “Look, getting thrown out a window sucked major ass, but finding this—” he gestures to the house around him— “is probably the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Behind Remus, Logan’s face turns bright red. Well that answers that, then.

Remus takes Roman’s other hand, meeting his eyes. “If you really want to make this up to me, go back. Become king. And change things.”

Roman bows his head once more. “I do not deserve this second chance, brother,” he whispers.

His hands tighten on Remus’s and he meets his twin’s gaze again, determined. “But I will do as you ask. I swear it, with every inch of my being: I will make things right.”

Remus shouldn’t trust Roman with something this important, not after Roman made it so clear what his word is worth. And yet, Remus nods as if satisfied and steps back.

“It is past sunrise,” Logan says. “I will not have you drawing search parties into this forest when the castle discovers you are gone.”

“I’d best be off then,” Roman says, knowing a dismissal when he hears one.

“I’ll walk you back!” Remus says.

“Absolutely not,” Logan snaps. “I will not allow you to walk that sort of distance while you are still on the mend.”

“It’s been a month!”

“And you were bedridden for weeks!”

“Logan can show me out,” Roman says firmly. “The last thing I want is you hurting yourself more over me.”

Remus’ eyes go watery. “But we just found each other again.”

Roman pulls him into another hug. “I will return, as long as you will have me.”

Remus nods into Roman’s shoulder, tightening his arms around him. They stay like that for a few moments more before they reluctantly part.

“Right, then,” Roman says. “Goodbye, for now.”

“Goodbye,” Remus says, unusually subdued.

Logan shows Roman to the door, and together they begin to walk across the clearing to the trees.

“You should know,” Logan says, “that if you break his trust again or hurt him in any way, all the guards in the castle will not be enough to stop me from killing you.”

Roman laughs heartily at that.

“I knew I liked you, Specs!” he says, slapping Logan on the back. “I’m glad Remus has someone like you looking out for him.”

Logan blinks. “Right, then. Good.”

“Wait!”

Roman looks back to see Remus standing in the house’s doorway. He looks... concerned?

“I know it’s going to take some time to be okay with what happened,” Remus says, “For both of us. But you weren’t the person who threw me off that tower. The king was. Just... remember that, okay? Remember that and come back.”

Roman nods mutedly, and the door closes.

“Right,” he says, clearing a mysterious obstruction from his throat, “let’s go then.”

With that, Roman turns and walks into the woods, headed back to the castle. Back to the duty he promised Remus he would fulfill.

And this promise, Roman intends to keep.

[avengerscompound]

It’s You and Me - Chapter 15

It’s You and Me: A Hawkeye Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Clint Barton x  F!Reader

Word Count:  2165

Rating:  E

Warnings:  action, canon typical violence, mentions of past child sexual abuse

Synopsis: You and Clint Barton go way back.  Since you joined the circus as a child, he took it upon himself to keep you away from the people who really wanted to hurt you.  For years the two of you danced a line between dark and light.

When he chooses light the two of you go your separate ways.

Fifteen years later he tracks you down.  Those feelings the two of you shared never went away, but now he is not only an Avengers but a single father.  Can the two of you make it work after all this time when your lives have gone in such different directions?

A series told in flashbacks and current day.

Chapter 15: Now

“Alright, alright,” Clint said, holding his three kids at once.  “I’ll be back soon enough.  I promise.”

“We don’t want you to go,” Lila whined.

“I know, sweetheart,” Clint soothed.  “But there are a bunch of kids just like you that are in trouble right now, and I gotta go help them.  We’ll be back in a day or two.  I promise.”

Clint’s words of reassurance seemed to only make the kids cling to him even tighter.  You couldn’t blame them really - if you’d had a parent that had given half a damn about you, and you knew how easy it was to lose that, you wouldn’t want to let them go either.

“I’ll protect him,” you said.  “Anyone who tries to hurt your dad will have to get through me first.”

“Yeah, and she’s really tough.  Plus your Auntie Nat will be there.  So will Auntie Wanda, and Uncle Steve,” Clint assured them.  “I’ll be home soon, and Ebony’s gonna take really good care of you.”

“That’s right,” Ebony agreed.  “I will.  Plus, because you’re dad’s not here, I can give you as much candy as I want.”

Cooper and Lila reluctantly pulled away but when Ebony went to take Nate, he wailed and clung to Clint.

“Come on now, bud,” Clint soothed.  “I need you to be super brave, and someone needs to take care of Jasper.  You know he likes you best.”

Nate looked up and furrowed his brow.  “Weally?”

“Yeah, really,” you agreed.  “I think he likes you even more than he likes me.”

Nate reluctantly let himself be taken by Ebony and Clint quickly kissed the kids goodbye.  “This is really just a ‘go-in and arrest them’ thing,” Clint said to Ebony.  It was something he’d already told her three times, but she let him repeat it.  “Couple of days max.  I’ll call if I can but you can always call Pepper for a status report if you need to.”

“I know, I know,” Ebony said.  “Get out.  I’ve got this.”

He smiled at her and patted Lucky before heading out with you.  “Fuck, that does not get easier.”

“Yeah, well, they’re worried about you,” you said, taking his hand as the two of you descended the stairs.

“It was better when Laura was alive,” he said.  “They never loved me leaving, but there’d just be some tears.  Not this ‘clinging to me’ thing.”

“Well,” you said.  “The older two have lost two parents now, right?  Probably they’ve started thinking they’ll lose everyone.”

Clint stopped dead in the stairwell and looked back up the stairs.  “Fuck,” he cursed.

You took a few more steps before the tug of his hand made you realize that he wasn’t walking with you anymore.  “What?  You didn’t realize that?”

“I mean -” he shrugged his shoulders and started walking again.  “I guess part of me did.  I knew it was separation anxiety because they’d lost her.  But I guess I didn’t think that this was becoming a theme for them.”

“You can stay behind if you want,” you said.  “I am sure the rest of us can handle it.”

Clint shook his head.  “No,” he said.  “As much as I hate it, Jacques was one of my father figures.  I hate him - and I also kind of love him.  I need to see this out to the end.”

You nodded.  You knew exactly how he felt.  This was a long time in the making and you wanted to be there to take him down so you could have closure too.

When the two of you stepped out onto the street a van pulled up beside you and the back door slid open.  You and Clint jumped in and squeezed into a chair next to Bucky.  “How far do we have to go?”  Clint asked.

“I’d say a three or four hour drive.  Depending on traffic,” Steve said.

“We’re not taking the Quinn?”

“We didn’t want to give them a chance to spot us coming,” Steve said.  “The whole reason Swordsman keeps getting away from us is because he’s always one step ahead.  Tony and Sam are going to fly in once we get there.”

Clint nodded and shifted in his chair, pushing you against Bucky a little more.  “Hey, bird,” Bucky snarked.  “Wanna not spread out so much, we have a long fuckin’ drive.”

“Yeah?”  Clint teased.  “How about I do this instead.”

He leaned into you like he was going to kiss you.  You burst out laughing and pulled away from him, pushing further against Bucky.  “Get off me, you idiot!”  You squealed.

“Steve, you think I can drive?”  Bucky deadpanned as he pushed you both off of him.

It was dark by the time the van pulled up down the street from the large, yet run-down Queen Anne house that stood at the top of the hill, and everyone in the van was getting antsy.  It was the kind of house that kids would say a witch owned.  The yard was overgrown and brown, and the paint was all peeling from the timber of the house.   There was a large, rusty gate out the front and the walls that surrounded it were starting to crumble.  Somehow, despite never really knowing Jacques to have lived in a house, this was exactly the kind of place you could see him in.

You stretched a little as you stepped out of the back of the van, and Steve gathered you all into a huddle.

“From what we can tell, his security is top of the line, so don’t let the appearance fool you,” Steve said.  “Tread lightly, stay in the shadow.  He has a good view of the entire area, and if he’s alerted they’re all going to run.  You four, he said pointing to you, Bucky, Natasha, and Clint split up.  I want you to enter unseen, and block off the exits.  The rest of us will follow on when you give the signal.  Wanda, do your best to keep track of who’s in the building so we don’t lose anyone.”

“Yes, sir,” Wanda said.

“We all know our jobs?”  Steve said.  When no one replied he nodded.  “Then let’s go.”

You pulled your mask down and followed Natasha, Bucky, and Clint up the hill, keeping low and to the shadows.  When the four of you reached the stone fence, Natasha waved you and Clint in one direction and she and Bucky went in the other.

When you reached about halfway down the wall, you found a tree that - while it didn’t hang over the fence - it was close enough that the two of you could jump over.  Clint gave you a lift into the tree and you pulled him up after you.  Without a word the two of you ran along the branch that got you closest to the wall, and when the branch began to sag, you leaped, somersaulting in the air and landing crouched on the ground.

Clint wasn’t far behind you, and when he was safely inside the walls, you split up.  Clint continued his trip around the building, while you went straight for it.

You reached a dying hedge near the house and crouched behind it as you surveyed the building.  There was a cellar door near you and a trellis that ran up the side of the tower.  You knew the likelihood that both were alarmed was pretty high if what Steve said was true.

Bucky’s voice came through your comms.  “Winter Soldier in position.  No indication they’ve seen us.”

“Black Widow in position,” Natasha responded. “Awaiting orders.”

“Sugar Snap in position,” you echoed, remaining hidden in your spot and gazing over the house, looking to see if anyone seemed clued into your position.  There was movement in the house, but nothing that seemed to indicate that anyone was alarmed.

“Hang on, hang on…” Clint said, slightly breathlessly.  “Okay, Hawkeye in position.”

“Alright, we’re at the gate,” Steve said.  “Tony?  Sam?  You ready?”

“When you are, Cap,” Sam responded.

“Yeah, hurry it along,” Tony added.  “I want to go back to binging the Mandalorian.”

“Alright, team one, enter the building,” Steve said.  “Get as far in as you can go before tripping the alarms.”

You took off from your hiding spot, scaling the lattice until you reached the top window on the tower.  Using your sword you forced the window open, immediately setting off the alarms.  You ignored them, jumping through the window.  There was no one in the room, but there were a lot of computers, and on the table were photos of girls in compromising positions.  Your blood boiled seeing them, remembering back to when it was you being manipulated by the man who had said you’d be safe.

The sound of running echoed in the hall outside and you pulled your sword, readying yourself as the door burst open.

Jacques Duquesne hadn’t changed a lot in the past 18 years.  He was older, yes.  But aside from a few more lines on his face, and grey in his hair, but he still looked as fit as he ever had.  “Well, well, well,” he said, stopping short in front of you and pulling his own sword from its sheath.  “You’re all grown up.  Zelda said you were working with the Avengers now.”

“That’s right,” you said.  “And you are now going to go to prison for a very long time.”

He raised his sword.  “That’s adorable.  You think you’re going to get payback for something you agreed to willingly?”

“I was a kid!”  You shouted and charged at him.

He deflected you easily.  Your rage getting the better of you.  You spun around and attacked him again, and he shoved you aside.

“You really are so cute, ma petite,” Jacques taunted.  “Barton taught you with the blade, but he never was as good as me.”

He swung at you and knocked the blade to the side, but he pushed back, shoving your blade against you.  He was stronger than you, and you couldn’t match the brute force he was putting behind the attack.  You flipped backward and he swung the blade at you.  You watched it in slow motion as the blade swung under you and put your foot on the flat of the blade, balancing on it even as it moved.  You flipped back again and kicked him in the jaw, sending him reeling.

As you landed on the ground - sword at the ready - Jacques recovered, wiping the blood from his lip.  “I’m going to make you pay for that, you little bitch.”

“Come get it,” you hissed.

He swung at you, and you countered.  He swung again quickly, and each strike he made, you parried.  He was stronger and the better swordsman, but you were more agile and your need to beat him was greater.  You started to back him out into the hall, adrenaline spurring you on even as your arm began to tire.

You reached the stairwell, and Jacques cried out and spun, a spray of blood splattering your face even before you were even sure what had happened.  Jaques tripped and stumbled down the stairs and as he dropped from your line of sight, you saw Clint with his bow drawn and everything clicked into place.  Clint had shot him.

You jumped down the stairs after the swordsman and knocked him from his feet.  He landed on his back, and the arrow that had punctured his shoulder, pushed through it more, making him cry out.  You kicked his sword away and held your blade to his throat.  “Goodbye, Jacques,” you said, looking down into his eyes - revenge the only thing driving you.

“Sugar!”  Clint yelled.

You turned and narrowed your eyes at him.  “Why shouldn’t I?”

Clint approached you slowly like you were a wild animal ready to lash out.  “Because… you are better than him.”  He put his hand on your arm and looked you in the eye.  You could hear fighting in the rest of the building and you were vaguely aware that Steve was standing at the bottom of the stairs with his shield at the ready.  “Don’t let him pull you down to his level.  Not again.”

You looked back down at Jacques.  He was breathing heavily, but smirking at you - daring you to do something.  You took a deep breath, weighing your options.  For a moment it felt like both things were happening at the same time.  You were killing him and you weren’t.  He was dead and he was alive.  Schroedinger’s cat in real-time.  You swung your sword away and Clint pulled you into his arms.  Steve moved quickly, pinning Jacques to the ground, putting him in handcuffs.

“You and me, sugar,” Clint whispered.

You nodded and sagged against him as the adrenaline left your system.  You knew he was right.  You’d separated before because you’d both chosen different paths.  Now, you were choosing the same one, and you wouldn’t let anything come between you again.

// NEXT

[thenickelportrust]

Scene Practice 2

The second of my scene practices! This one is experimenting a bit more with Ricky as he starts to question his sexuality with a non-female MC.

Specifically, in the space between a friendship and a relationship, where everything is in a bit of a grey area already!

This one is less of a specific scene-that-will-appear-in-game and is more of my practicing the idea and vibes of that time in the MC and his relationship!

Enjoy!

_______

“Okay, so I’m here.” You fold your arms across your chest, staring across the dark wooden desk to the man who, despite being the one who asked you here, keeps his blue eyes trained on the paper in front of him.

Ricky Dempsey doesn’t move to talk at first, which is the whole reason you spoke up first, but fine. With a sigh, you pull out one of the chairs from across his desk and plop yourself down into it.

Well, if you’re going to be bored…

“Guess you asked me here just to stare at your pretty face then?”

… You might as well try to find a way to entertain yourself. And entertained you are. It’s taken quite a while to figure out what makes the stiff-upper-lipped politician tick, and to be entirely frank you’re still not entirely sure what it is that gets a reaction from him… But you’ve gotten better at it. At least, you’ve gotten better at eliciting more than a sharp glare and the whip-like snap of his silver tongue, so quick on the trigger to insult. Sometimes, although this is a rare sometimes, but still, sometimes, you’ve even gotten him to blush.

Small triumphs.

Small triumphs that you’re not privy to now, as despite your not-quite-best efforts Ricky Dempsey turns away from his papers to pass you his usual narrow-eyed glare. “Are you truly that incapable of sitting there patiently for a mere moment?”

“Yeah, I am.” You grin in the face of his minor irritation. It’s more than a shit-eating grin, and it’s one that Ricky meets with a sigh and, miracle of miracles, places his pen to the side. Victory achieved!

“So,” You drawl, rubbing your hands together as you sit forward on your chair, “What’s up? Why’d you ask me here anyway?”

He remains silent-- victory substantially less achieved-- but he’s still looking at you, not the papers. Victory partially achieved?

Ricky stares at you for a long while, long enough that it even starts to make you uncomfortable. You can’t read his expression, and you’re not even sure he’s trying to read yours. Hell, you’re not sure he’s even really looking at you. He’s more just… looking in your direction. But he’s not spaced out, his gaze is as sharp and attentive as ever. He’s just… thinking. “You, uh, okay…?”

He blinks, and Ricky reaches for his pen for a moment, before his hand pauses, halfway between himself and the pen, and slowly falls back to his side. “Yes. I am fine.”

“You sure? You seem a bit… unusual.”

“Unusual?” He repeats, his chair turning slightly to the side as his head swivels with it, looking out the back window to his view. The corporate heart of Nickelport. You see smoke in the distance, a small stream of it, and something in the back of your mind-- the Rust instinct drilled into you over your four years of working for them-- thinks that there must be a fight going on. One just starting. It thinks that maybe you should be there to see it.

Living in Nickelport, and working for the Rust, it must have worn down your survival instinct.

“Yeah.” You force your gaze back to the politician’s profile. His jaw is set tight, his eyes locked somewhere unspecific on the horizon, maybe he’s looking at the smoke too. What’s his instinctual reaction to it? It’s probably different from yours. Probably. “Unusual.”

“I wasn’t aware unusual was a state of being. Perhaps unsure, or unlike myself, but unusual is more of a personality descriptor, or perhaps a physical description, I’m not so sure one could go from usual to unusual. You could also say I am unusually something, but you didn’t,” He turns his chair back around to you now, “At least, you would most likely have to say unlike my usual self, which I’m sure is what you meant to imply, but it is not what you said.”

“Yeah well then you’re being unusually deflective, and an ass at the same time, but that’s usual for you.” Still grinning.

Ricky doesn’t smile. “I have a request for you.”

Ah, and there was the meat of the meeting. “Oh? What’s up?”

“I…” He trails off, his gaze breaking, looking down, looking away and-- the tips of his ears seem red? Is he… blushing? But you haven’t said or done anything to make him flush and…

You lean forward, concerned, and reach for his hand, “Hey, Ricky, what’s wrong?”

His hand, which snaps back the moment your fingers make contact, “Nothing is wrong, do not assume.”

“I’m inferring, cause like we’ve established, this really isn’t like you.” Your voice is gentle now, sincere, and sincerely concerned.

Ricky Dempsey holds his hand as if it had been burned, unable to look you in the eyes. “I…” he swallows heavily, “I have a request.”

“Right,” You nod along slowly, “What do you need?”

“I need nothing,” He corrects, ever so specific.

“Fine, then what do you want?”

Somehow, that word seems worse to him, and again Ricky falls to one of his prolonged silences. It’s only broken by a small curse leaving his lips as he drags a hand up and through his hair. “I’d… my request is that, should you be willing, that you… kiss me.”

Now it’s your turn to blink, “What?”

The red on his ears begins to creep slowly towards his cheeks, “Is that such an unreasonable request?”

You don’t respond, your brain is still processing what Ricky “I reject any offer of friendship even if it's so much as implied” Dempsey has just asked you to kiss him. “What?”

The red has claimed his nose now, too, and is starting it’s charge down his neck, too. He grabs his pen with the violence of a knight drawing a sword to go into battle. “Nevermind.”

Your hand instinctively snaps out, grabbing his wrist before he can drown his mind in the distraction of his work. “I--” Your brain starts to catch up to the present again, slowly resetting, “I’m sorry-- but-- really-- what? Why?”

He doesn’t pull away this time, but his skin is burning under your palm, and he still won’t look you in the eyes. “Do I need a reason?”

“I mean it’d help, yeah.”

Ricky clears his throat again, squeezing the pen. “I… have been… having… thoughts… or-- no-- that doesn’t sound…” He takes a deep breath, his chest rising, stopping, and falling slowly as he exhales in a measured count. “Recently, I have been questioning some… assumptions I have made about myself. I have also been questioning… assumptions I’ve made about our… interactions. And my… interpretations of them. So, I thought, perhaps, when it comes to a hypothesis as… otherwise unfounded as the one I’ve been coming to-- to see, well, perhaps, a bit of experimentation was not-- is not… unwarranted.”

You try to translate from his work-around words to something more logical. “Ricky, do you have feelings for me?”

He jolts in his chair, finally pulling his hand away. “My entire life--” He answers lamely, softly, “My entire life I have believed myself to be one thing. I have not-- every person I have been with has been-- I have not ever questioned whether or not certain truths of  myself were not so true after all. It is not an… easy revelation to come to. Please do not ask me anything else. If you are incapable or unwilling of fulfilling my request then that is fine. I apologize for taking up your time.”

He’s apologizing. For Ricky, that is never a good sign.

“Hey,” You try to keep your voice gentle again, “It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize, and-- I mean-- I can’t say I’d be unwilling,”

He looks up, a small spark in the back of his blue eyes. But you hold up a hand,

“But,” You add on, “You don’t seem like you’re wholly on board with it yourself, yeah? I mean, correct me if I’m wrong, but you don’t seem very comfortable right now.”

His lips press tightly together, a small, hesitant nod bobbing his chin.

You smile, not your shit-eating grin but something small, “Hey, that’s okay. And it’s okay to be questioning, too, it’s not a bad thing.” You reach out, but stop halfway. Ricky seems to pull his hand back, so you pull yours back, too, and let it lie in your lap instead. “Take some time, okay? If you wanna ask me again, when you’re really comfortable with the idea, I’ll be here. Until then, no rush, yeah?”

Another silent nod, some of the red has drained from his face. Strands of his hair have fallen unnoticed onto his forehead, Normally, he would never have let even a single thing out of place-- not even a wrinkle on his suit or a hair from his head. But now the put-together Ricky Dempsey seems to be… shaken. And you lean back in your chair, “Do you wanna grab something to eat, instead?”

He looks up at you, meeting your gaze once again, finally, and that lets you see just how unsteady in his own skin he is right now. “Eat…?”

“Yeah, I mean, I’m here, I haven’t had lunch, I’d put money on the idea that you haven’t, either,” And you don’t want to push the subject right now. “I’ve been trying to try this cool-lookin’ Thai place around the corner but it’s way out of my budget. But lucky for me I have this rich politician friend who, yknow, could out of the kindness buried deep, deep, deep--”

He sighs, settling back into himself as he brushes his hair back into place and rolls his eyes, “Of course. I should have expected you to have an ulterior motive.”

“You know me.” Back to your grin, back to normalcy as he finds his feet and stands once again.

“Very well,” Dempsey straightens his tie, “But you owe me.”

You hop up as well, clapping your hands together. “Sounds great! Let’s get going then, I dunno about you but I’m starved.”

[kiribaku-queen]

Unexpected [3/8]

Pairing: Dabi x reader, Hawks x reader, Touya x reader

Fluff, angst, AU

Word count: 2.4K

A/N: To make up for being late last week, here’ s an early update! Enjoy! Please let me know what you think and if you would like to be added to the tag list!!!

Summary: Being quirkless wasn’t so bad. Especially when you had two badass best friends that had amazing quriks to make up for it. That is until one of them breaks your heart by disappearing in thin air. And the other breaks your heart by wanting to focus on his hero work. After coming back to Japan after studying abroad for 5 years, you were in for a whirlwind of surprises.

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8]

Some people say that you shouldn’t hook up with your ex. Ever! That’s a huge no-no when you break up. But, isn’t it okay if you guys don’t have any feelings towards each other? Afterall, it wasn’t like you and Keigo were dating again. It’s simply… casual hookups.

It’s not like he was stopping by your place every day and sleeping over every night. It’s not like he visits you at work sometimes. And it’s not like you get the butterflies after seeing him… Yeah, it’s not like that. Not like that at all.

You had to consistently wear your winter outfits to work because Keigo wouldn’t stop leaving marks all over your neck. They were so high, almost reaching your jaw. Make up can only do so much to cover it up. And you tried to avoid wearing skirts that rose too much because, lo and behold, bruises in the shape of his large hands on the back of your thighs. It was hard enough that some of your coworkers commented on it. You really didn’t want the kids to see. How inappropriate and embarrassing would that be? You needed to be really careful and take more precautions to ensure that.

The bell rang, indicating that the class period was over. Lunch was next and you breathed a sigh of relief. You were starving and truthfully, needed a break. All your students took out their lunches while you packed up your teaching materials and headed back to the staffroom that was on the third floor. On your way to the staffroom, you walked up the stairs that revealed the open air. The fresh air, along with the warm sun hitting your skin, was something you needed at the moment. You leaned over the edge, closed your eyes, and took in the breeze.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” an all too familiar voice rang in your ears. You didn’t even need to think twice to know who it was. The moment you opened your eyes, your favorite pair of flirty, golden eyes came into sight. An automatic smile crossed your face.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, still smiling. It’s not like you were complaining, but it wasn’t an every day occurrence either. Hawks was also leaning against the edge, but on the opposite side. He was utilizing his wings to keep him afloat.

“Oh, you know. Just in the neighborhood and wanted to say hi. Hi,” he says in a deep, sly voice. Giving you the biggest side smile. You laugh at his flirty manner.

“Well Mr. Hawks. I’m hungry and you’re taking into my lunch time,” you teased. Hawks raised a brow, almost as if he was accepting a challenge.

“Fine, go and have your lunch. But what ever shall I do with this freshly picked flower then?” he pulled out a single, gorgeous, fully bloomed, white lily. A small gasp escaped your mouth. It was beautiful. You looked at the flower, back at Hawks, and then back at the flower. You knew if you reached for it now, he would retract the flower, not giving you a chance to hold it in your hands. Instead, you stuck out your lower lip even more and gave him those puppy eyes you know he can’t resist. He saw the look in your face and you knew you got him. “Take it.” he insisted, handing you the beautiful flower. You gladly took it, taking it to your nose and taking in its essence.

“Thank you. I love it,” you thanked him, admiring the flower in front of you. You then looked at him with an apologetic expression. “But I really am hungry. Thanks for visiting though,” you grabbed his hand, gave it a tight squeeze and turned around. But you stopped in your tracks when you heard Hawks loudly and obnoxiously cleared his throat. You slowly turned on your heels to face him.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he puckered his lips, waiting for a kiss. But you quickly dismissed him.

“I’m at work!” you whisper shouted to him, stating the obvious. You could probably already get into trouble with him visiting you during school hours. Getting caught kissing? You would get fired for sure! And you just started. You couldn’t afford to get fired over smooching with one of the pro-heroes. But Hawks wasn’t backing down. He wouldn’t leave until he got what he wanted. Quickly looking side to side and behind you, making sure the sight was clear, you quickly tugged on his collar and pecked him on the lips.

“Happy?”

“Very.” He commented. You roll your eyes to show him that you were annoyed at him but the smile of your face said otherwise.

“Good. Now get out of here bird man,” you shooed him away. He chuckled and pushed himself off the ledge, now trying to stabilize himself in the air.

“See you later tonight?” he asks like hes afraid that you were going to say no. You softened your expression and nodded your head in confirmation.

“See you tonight,” you said and started walking back to the staffroom, a light pink blush stained your cheeks. Hawks balled his fists up in victory and flew away while doing backflips in the air out of excitement. You looked back for the last time and watched his silly somersaults. You shook your head and finally, finally headed to the staffroom.

In the distance on top of a large building that had a good view of the school, two villains stood watching the pro-hero Hawks. They saw him swoop in to talk to some female. That female being you. The villain with greyish-blue hair and hands all over him slanted his eyes at the hero.

“So that’s Hawks?” he asks in a monotone voice. He didn’t even need to ask. He knew that was Hawks: their next target. It was more of a confirmation than a question. But nonetheless, the person standing next to him hummed in response, not taking his eye off of you two.

“Another school. Shall we take more children this time? That seemed to rile up All Might and Endeavor. Why not do the same to the number 3 hero?” The masked man talked out his plan, laughing ominously. The man beside him continue to observe the pro-hero. His eyes flickered to you and immediately saw the pink tint in your cheeks. Ah, he got it now.

“Not the children. The teacher,” he informed the masked man, using the same monotone voice. This caused the masked man to laugh even harder.

“Even better. Dabi, you know what to do,” he commanded, walking away while Hawks was doing his somersaults in the air. But Dabi didn’t respond. He continued to look in your direction and saw you turn around to look at the hero. He continued to stare at you with his ocean, blue eyes before turning around and following his boss, Shigaraki.

 It was the end of the day for the kids, but not the end of the day for you, unfortunately. You had to stay back to finish grading and also to get ahead of preparing next week’s materials. You didn’t stay back too often, but today was just one of those days. Your phone buzzed next to you. Checking the notification real quick, you stopped everything you were doing when you saw Hawks’ name pop up.

Can’t wait to see you tonight.

God, you swore he made you feel like you guys were in high school again. Something about him just made your heart race and make you feel giddy inside. Sometimes the emotion was too much that you feel like you wanted to explode. You took a deep breath to calm yourself. Deep breaths. You guys weren’t together. Just casual hookups. That’s all it was. Nothing more. No need to feel like a teenage girl again. But the moment you saw his text message again, all those feelings you were trying to repress were coming back tenfold. As soon as you were about to text him back, your phone died. You cursed yourself for not being a portable charger.

You were almost done with your work for the day. By the time you looked out the window, the sun had set. You didn’t realize that you were at the office for that long. Knowing that your phone died and it was dark outside, something in your gut was telling you something wasn’t right. But it was generally safe around this part of town. And it wasn’t like you hadn’t gone home like this before. Nothing happened then. Nothing was going to happen this time. You gathered your belongings and headed back home.

Hawks stared at his phone. You had seen his text message so why weren’t you responding? Maybe you were trying to play hard to get. Okay, he can get down with that. He just had to show you a good time tonight to get rid of that attitude. Looking at his watch, the minute hand just hit 6. Great, he had one more hour until his shift was over and then he was on his way to your heaven.

Just then, Hawks stopping in his tracks, letting a few of his feathers sharply fly into a dark alleyway. He stalked towards the alleyway, senses on high alert. He had pinned a dark figure against the wall. Not enough where his feathers pierced his skin but enough to keep him in his place.

“Who are you.” Hawks demanded, ready to pull out his sword made out of his feathers in case this guy pulls any tricks. The figure didn’t say anything. But Hawks was patient. “Oi, I can do this all day.” This made the figure burst out laughing. His laugh was menacing enough to leave chills running down his back. Okay, he was dealing with a crazy person. He wasn’t going to let his guard down. This could turn real bad.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the man said as he finished laughing. He lifted his head to reveal his greyish-blue hair, cracked skin and wild eyes. Shigaraki Tomura! Without hesitation, Hawks whipped out his sword-like weapon and put the tip against Shigaraki’s neck. This made Shigaraki start his giggle fit again.

“(y/n), isn’t it? Pretty name.” Upon hearing your name come out of his chapped lips, Hawks became angry and tightened his grip on his sword. But he knew he shouldn’t do anything rash. Now that they know your name, he couldn’t let anything happen to you.

“What do you want?” he asked through his teeth. He was so angry that he clenched his teeth together to hard that they could break if he tightened them any harder. Shigaraki refused to answer. “Are you here alone?” he continued to ask. Hawks took a deep breath and concentrated on the air. He couldn’t feel anyone around them. So he was alone. Easier on him then. “Then no one’s going to save you when I slice your head off!” he lifted his sword, ready to attack him. But Shigaraki smirked, his body turning into black sludge, forming a puddle below him. This caused Hawks to stop his attack midair, mortified at the sight he was seeing. Shigaraki looked up at the hero and then in the direction of your school.

“I’m not the one who needs saving.” He said before completely turning into a black mess on the floor. He was gone. But that’s not what was important. “(y/n)…” he whispered your name and in a second, he was already in the air, flying straight to your school. “Shit, shit, SHIT!” he screamed, impressively weaving through buildings. He was trying to get to you as fast as he could, pushing himself to his limits, but it wasn’t enough! He tried calling you. Over and over again. But you weren’t picking up. His heart started to race like never before. No. This was not happening. He reached your school but when he saw how dark your school was, his heart sank. But he never knew. He dispersed all his red feathers to search the school. Again, nothing. No one was there. He checked your place. Not there. He checked his place. Not there either. So, where the hell were you?

You were almost back at your apartment when you felt fear take over your whole body. You could feel eyes watching you, but you didn’t know what to do. You were frozen in fear. All of a sudden, multiple figures appeared from the shadows, surrounding each side of you. With each step they took towards you, the more you were physically shaking. You eyed all of them, trying to figure out what kind of defensive attack you could do, but there were too many of them. All you could do was run. But where to? They would catch you no matter what direction you went in. But it was better than surrendering yourself to them. So you did it. You ran like your life depended on it. Like you predicted, you were caught easily. One of the guys caught your arm in a tight hold, bringing you down. But you don’t remember what happened next because the next thing you knew, you were seeing black. You passed out.

 You jolted awake. But your vision was cut off something covering your eyes. Most likely a blindfold. Or at least, you hoped it was a blindfold. You tried to move but it was useless. You were sitting in a chair, hands tied behind your back and feet tied together. A cloth was also wrapped around your mouth to prevent you from speaking. Classic. What a classic way to wake up to a kidnapping. Soon enough, someone took off your blindfold. White, blinding light abused your poor eyes. You couldn’t help but squint at the sudden brightness and tried to blink so that you could get used to it. But moment you completely opened your eyes to your surroundings, the first thing you saw were sapphire eyes. And for a moment, a flashback flashed before your eyes: seeing the red haired boy you used to love. Coming back to reality, he may have the same eyes but he was not the person you were imagining. He had black hair, purple scars all over his face and body, and staples carved into his skin. He looks into your eyes and smirks.

“Morning Doll.”

A/N: Let’s do this again. TeamHawks or TeamDabi????

Tagged: @ditu-m9 @flowersgirl02 @snuckerfrcnicken @complicatedharry @bestgirlkonan

[poptod]

The Game (Baxter x Reader)

Description: You’re either a weirdo or a psychopath. Or both.

Notes: so this is um. kind of weird. but i guess thats kind of my thing at this point WC: 1.7k

+

"Didn't think this was how it'd go, did'ja?"

"I would really like it if you took these handcuffs off."

"Why? Cause they're yours?"

You stepped closer to his chair, dragging your gaze over every knot you tied around his body. The rope around his ankles and chest, the metal handcuffs behind the back, the gag unceremoniously hung round his neck ever since he wrestled it off.

"Does that bother you?" You asked as you bent in front of him, a wide, toothy grin spreading across your lips. "Being tied up by your own tools?"

"Shut. The fuck. Up," he hissed out beneath his breath, staring straight forward with a glare that could kill. As usual he completely avoided your own eyes.

"Aww, tiny cop is a little testy today, isn't he?"

Shooting up from your position on the floor, you wandered into a darker corner of the room, where the fluorescent light shining over Baxter couldn't quite reach. There you kept your bookcase stocked full of a variety of your tools. Mostly books, but several of the shelves held cases for knives and bug specimens, two of the most beautiful things you imagined one could have. The white light reflected off the glass case and into the detective's eyes.

"I think you need to calm down," you said as you dug into one of the bookcase drawers, feeling around for a lighter and cigarette. "You smoke, right?"

He remained quiet, that glare still piercing the wall in front of him.

"Doesn't matter. I've seen you smoke. I watch you a lot, you know," you spoke through the cig, clicking on the lighter in your hands before a flame burst.

The steps you took towards him were small, calculated, and gentle with your tapping shoes on the cement floor. This room didn't have the best sound quality, and every little noise was magnified by the stone walls. The minimum amount of furniture had made way for the same echo.

"You're very interesting to watch. You're the only cop that's actually interesting. Did you know that?"

With how low his seat was on the ground his face was right in front of your hips, and you spared him no mercy. Instead you stepped even closer, till he was forced to lean back with uneven breath, ire lacing his stare that had nowhere else to rest but you now.

"I've met a lot of cops in a lot of different countries," you admitted thoughtlessly, taking a long drag from your cigarette. "But you're fun. And so fuckin' pretty."

You knelt once more, this time nearly sat between his legs, and blew smoke into his face. His nose scrunched up as his eyes shut, annoyance clear on his pursed lips.

"What the hell do you want from me?" He said in a low, quiet voice that you had already come to know quite well. The moment you recognized it another smile spread across your face, big and unsettlingly happy.

"A good time, hopefully," you said, raising your hand to his face. At first he flinched, twitching away from you, but your need was relentless. Your palm landed on his cheek, allowing you to stroke the small cut along his cheekbone.

When at last he raised his eye to meet yours, the first thing you noted was fear. Fear permeates every emotion––it raises itself above all else, tells on itself before any other emotion can. There were other things beneath that, of course; anger, contempt, the usual when someone is forcefully tied to a chair in the middle of a nondescript room with no windows.

"Don't worry," you chirped. "I won't hurt you. Much. I just... I have these cravings."

Before turning back to your bookcase, you took another slow drag from your cig, watching the end burn till it nearly touched your lips. The smoke you blew out was half in his face and half not, though by his expression it might as well have been all of it.

You reached into your pocket, pulling out the key to one of your glass cases. It wasn't a terribly secure location for the contents, but that little bit of danger was always thrilling––never knowing if your prey will manage to reach those knives. 

Your largest was closer to a sword than a dagger, and though it did its' job of intimidation, the easier tool was the small silver knife engraved with cuneiform. The most painful was the jagged-toothed blade, who tore at skin instead of slicing it. That was for another time.

With the silver knife in hand you turned back around, a knowing smirk on your face as you once more approached the detective.

"Jim Baxter. James. Jimmy-boy. How ya feeling? Good?"

No reaction from him. Perfect.

"You want to know something? Little tid-bit of information. Little fun fact about me," you said with a sigh as you knelt. "I don't like your line of work. Not just because you guys are always tryin' to bust my ass and ruin the fun, but I don't like the government in general. The perfect society is an anarchal society. It's probably too much to ask what your leaning on this is, right? I think I know anyway."

You fiddled with the knife in your hands, toying with the handle and picking at the blade.

"White-picket fence boy," you added.

"The hell does that mean?"

"You know exactly what it means. It's just––I think it's a little funny. All around you're such a law-abiding person, so nice, so plain, and you've got all this flavor on your face."

By the way his eyes widened, you could tell what came to his mind. It was what came to most people's minds when you tried to explain the essence of flavor in human personality; cannibalism.

"I'm not going to eat you," you clarified, chuckling when his breathing returned to normal. "I could, though. I have no qualms against it. Peel off the skin of your face, fillet that shit... probably taste like chips."

"Why are you doing this? What – what even are you doing?" He finally asked, succumbing to the confusion and curiosity that had plagued him ever since he woke up here.

"Intimidation. Kidnapping. Those are still illegal, right?"

"Yes."

"Right. Well, anyway, those are just some crimes that I by no means on purpose committed. It was just the only way to get what I really want," you said as the tip of your knife pressed into his clothed knee, running down the fabric and leaving a small scratch mark in his pant leg. He jerked away, but you only pressed harder, keeping him in place with a tight hand around his ankle.

"Don't be shy now," you grinned.

"You think you're hot shit –"

"I am."

"– but I'll find you, and –"

"It seems to me you already have."

"Would you shut the fuck up?!"

"Sorry. Go on."

"I'm gonna put you in jail, where creeps like you belong," he said through gritted teeth, his jaw set as he met your awaiting eyes.

"You think I'm a creep? I'm the most sane out of all my friends. Though, I do suppose we live in two different worlds," you said with a shrug.

His type lived in the light. Sunny-day type people, warm homes to come to at the end of the day, dark green grass and clean highways. Yours is more in the style of broken down street lamps––burning rubber from car wheels and the warmth of a lighter. At least that's the way you liked to put it, romanticized into the sweetest fashion so it's easier to swallow.

Honestly, most of your friends are coke dealers. There's one that sells guns to minors, but he's not a friend of yours. Just someone you know. All of them are good people, you can't deny that, but it's not a gentle environment.

Not that you're any bit unlike them. You do, after all, kidnap people and taunt them for fun.

"Alright. Question for you. Ever had sex?"

Nothing. You giggled, crossing your arms on his knees.

"Ever kissed someone? You don't seem like the person who would like any of that stuff. I'll still be surprised if you haven't, though. The idea that no one tried to jump your bones? Yeesh. I don’t think that's possible," you rambled on, making a few vague hand gestures as his glare never faded.

The surly twist in his face reached a high point, ending with him spitting onto your face with a deep irritation in his expression. It took a second or two before you quite processed what had just happened, but when you did you had no hesitation in your response; licking the flat of your tongue up from his jaw to his temple.

"You like that? Into that kinda thing?" You asked in a booming laugh as he spluttered, desperately trying to worm away from you. "That was on you, buddy. Come on. Admit it."

"I'm not going to –"

"Come on, say it! You deserved that. Right?"

You grabbed his chin in a tight grip, forcing him to look at you.

"You get everything that's coming to you. You deserve everything you'll receive within the next... hmm, let's say, three months? Depends on when I get bored of you," you hummed, glancing to the side as you thought.

"The next three months? What are you gonna do in that time?" He asked almost softly, brow furrowed in the same consternation as his eyes.

"Have a little bit of fun, for once. I hope you prove to be more entertaining than the last girl," you said with a grunt, pushing yourself to your feet. "In the meantime... you can't be missing for too long, baby."

"Wh –"

With the butt of your dagger in hand, you whirled back around, hitting him right in his temple. The hit of the massive gem on his skull knocked him out, muscles untensing as he fell limp in his restraints.

You smiled and breathed a sigh of happy relief, as though you had finished swimming in the brisk water of a lake.

"Ah... he seems nice."

Thirty minutes and he's waking up, waves of pain throbbing from his cranium. He hissed as he tried to sit up, realizing with much comfort that he was back in the linen sheets of his bed, the comforter all tangled and mussed beneath him. By the look of the clock, it was the morning of his first shift of the week.

And the first thing he has to tell his boss is that there's another psycho on the loose.

[pl-panda]

Damienette arranged marriage: part 11

I literary wrote it right after publishing the previous part. Surprise. But you will kill me again because this time this is serious cliffhanger :)

Credits: Miraculous Ladybug team for the elements I take from MLB show. DC for their characters, @ozmav for the AU, @maribat-archive for giving me access to so many different stories to have take inspirations from, @thyladyanput for idea for Chat Damian and me for the plot.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Part 9 

Part 10

Damienette arranged marriage: part 11

NEXT

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Instead of taking the ring he closed boy's hand around it, cupping it in his own. "No son. I told you I can't do this alone. I want... I need your help. We can bring your mother back together."

"Thank you father. Your trust means the world for me."

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

Now

Chat Noir crashed through the window right into the room where Marinette, Damian and Chloe were having a friendly conversation. He looked different. His ears and tail were real instead of accesories and instead of bell on his neck he had only a choker with word 'Marinette' written on it.

"My Purrincess! I come to save you!" He said in almost seductive tone.

"Chat Noir? What is the meaning of this?!" Chloe jumped in front of Marinette. "Do you know how expensive this windows are?! And look at you! Ridiculous. Utterly Ridiculous! What have you done to yourself?!"

"There is no Chat Noir here. I am Chat d'amour. And I came to save my Purrincess!"

Damian growled and went to grab his sword, but before he could do anything a staff hit him in the chest and pushed him into the wall. While normally the young vigilante would shrug this kind of damage off, this cat was actually strong like a lion.

"You! You stole my purrincess!" The akumatized hero purred aggressively. He walked to the Wayne heir who was trying to get from the ground but his body was still hurting. "You corrupted her. She never skipped classes before you came. Because of you she became friends with... with... With Chloe!" He finally shouted. "She is the walking Akuma factory!"

Damian spat into cat's face. Using the momentary distraction he dashed forward, ignoring the pain he felt in all his body parts and tackled him. "Run!" He shouted to the girls. Marinette was in too much shock and confusion to react, but Chloe grabbed the bluenette and dragged her out. They were already at the doors, but they couldn't open them. Chloe locked them to ensure nobody would eavesdrop on their talk. Before she managed to open them Cat's staff locked them.

"My Purrincess! I will not let them take you away!" Chat d'amour dashed forward and grabbed Marinette, only to then jump through the window and out into the city. Neither Chloe nor Damian could react in time.

Wayne wanted to leave, to call his brother, to do anything. He switched between trying to open the anti-breakin doors, calling his family, calling police and just striding around. At the same time Chloe managed to call her father and get him to send police after chat noir and already got her social media profile and all her followers to hunt for the cat. Damian just ended another unsuccessful call to his brother.

"I swear if the reason Drake's not picking up is because he is making out with Brown I will castrate him!" He got angry and kicked in the doors. Then second time. By the third time he cursed in arabic as excruciating pain filled his leg. Chloe grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him to the bed. She then looked at him expectantly. "You can't think I will touch anywhere near your bottom leg! Ridiculous! Utterly Ridiculous!"

"I don't have time for this! She is out there! With this idiot!" Another colorful string of curses left his mouth, this time a mix between French, Arabic, English, Mandarin and surprisingly Spanish.

"You are in no condition to help her lover boy and it would be best if you didn't kill yourself just doing that. The ambulance is already coming. Now since you can't move, care to explain what was that part about you and Dupain-Cheng being married?"

Damian paled. He read files of everyone in the class. Only two people who knew Mandarin were Adrien Agreste and Marinette herself. They considered it safe language as long as the blonde boy trouble was not present.

"Yes, I know Mandarin. I kept Adrikins company when he studied and he made me learn it to practice. Now spill. I'm not letting it go."

For a moment, Damian was considering letting Chloe go from the top of the hotel. It could look like an accident. He could tell them she slipped and fell through the open window. Nobody would doubt him. And everything would perfect. But he couldn't take away Marinette's last friend. As much as he disliked her, she had cathartic effect on his wife.Funny how in twenty-four hours of knowing her more closely he already accepted this fact... FOCUS WAYNE!

"I assume it would be prudent to try and dissuade you from pursuing this?"

"Spill." was her answer.

"Fine." It took him a short moment to form a plausible lie that would keep the girl off the track. "A month ago my mother kidnapped me. I recently turned fifteen which is marriage age where I grew up. I awoke tied in front of the altar with Marinette next to me."

"What! Ridiculous! That's utterly ridiculous. What mother does that to their ..." Then Chloe suddenly shut up. Her mother didn't even know her name. Maybe it was not as surprising as it should be, but she was shocked nonetheless.

"My mother is not a good person. She threatened that either we go forth with the ceremony or she will kill her."

"The two days..." Chloe put three and seven together to make a solid ten.

"tt. Yes."

"But forced marriage is illegal. And stupid. Utterly stupid. And you are both underage."

"Mother doesn't care about this things. Right now if either of us backs from the deal there will be many deaths."

"Just who the fuck is your mother?" Chloe shouted. ------------- Marinette was trying to escape the better part of the way, but Chat held her tight and if she actually succeeded, she would fall and risked serious injury. And here there would be no miracle cure to save her since there would be no next ladybug for quite some time.

Finally, they arrived at a rooftop with a picnic blanket and basket awaiting. Chat put Marinette on the ground near the wall, very carefully. "Voila!"

"Chat Noir. What in ladybug's name is this?!" She screamed at him.

"My purrincess! This is all for you! I made it. You are safe here. They will no longer corrupt you with their toxic purrsonalities. You can be all mine now!"

"What?!" the bluenette wanted to say... something, but her mind had hard time getting the idea that Chat got himself akumatized.

"They were giving you all the wrong ideas. You are not some bully. You are beautiful, smart and kind. The two of them just want to have you all for themselves.

"And you think that by doing this you saved me?!"

"Yes! And I think I earned a reward..." Chat leaned and tried to Kiss Marinette on the lips. The only thing he didn't account for was that her hands were free.

Marinette didn't hold back. She delivered a haymaker straight into Chat's nose. There was a crunching sound and the Akumatized hero stumbled back. Stream of red was going down to his lips, making them even more red. This punch would be enough to knock any normal person or probably even hero out cold, but the mixture of akuma and black cat miraculous caused the boy to just bleed profoundly.

"They turned you against me!" He screamed and pinned her hands on both sides of her head. There was madness in his eyes, amplified by akuma. "But a true love's kiss will heal you!" He slammed his bloody red lips onto her.

Marinette felt an excruciating pain in her chest. It was like her heart burned alive. She kicked Chat Noir right below the belt. He let go of her and stumbled back, this time falling onto the blanked an holding his manhood. Marinette also fell. A green light covered the general area of her heart.

——————————————————————————————————–

Taglist (sorry if I missed you)@pheonixashtree @sassakitty @unabashedbookworm @vixen-uchiha @maggiecc12 @actualdisasterwoman @tired-butterfly @shizukiryuu @floralfi @imanerddealwith @northernbluetongue @krispydefendorpolice @toodaloo-kangaroo @dast218 @bluesoulblueheart @theatreandcomicfreak @disneyfoxuniverse @mindfulmagics @alwaysnumberonetruth @nyaabinch @jardimazul @lenamau @rosep16 @dramatic-squirrel @sonif50 @daminett4life @lulutheawkwardess @weird-pale-blonde-person @mooshoon @jeminiikrystal @mochegato @moonlightstar64 @dragonflyswing @silverwhiteraven @shamefullove @magic-miraculous @valeks-princess @heaven428 @mlbchaosqueen @winter-gardenflower @spicybelladonna @emo-elaine13 @vetilora @karukofox21 @my-name-is-michell  @sturchling @lokiifriggasonn @redscarlet95 @melicmusicmagic @interobanginyourmom @the-fusionist @razzledazzle247 @miss-mysterys-blog @darkthunder1589 @i-is-mysterious @catthhay @the-one-woman-army @zestyzealot @dahjokester @write-for-your-life2 @mermaidreject @peachedpocky @sassakitty @dahjokester @crazylittlemunchkin

[miraculouswolf99]

Music Opens A Person's Heart

I must warn you of the events that happen in this story. It is not a salt story even if there are mentions of Lila and Chloe in it. But I give the warning for how this story contains homophobic actions and talk of suicide. But this is still a story that I hope people will enjoy as it focuses on Adrien and Kagami learning more about their friends Lyon and Vallia.

Thank you and I hope you like the story.

*****

Adrien was in the locker room just finishing up all he needed to do after he finished fencing practice. He was just glad he was able to get through it without an akuma interrupting it like they usually interrupt his piano lessons and regular classes in school.

Plus, fencing was his time to hang out with Kagami without the pressure of being on a date. A date where tabloid reporters or paparazzi could harass them. He really liked Kagami, but both of them liked their privacy and hated having to deal with the constant flashing cameras, the never-ending questions about their relationship, and the speculation about the answers that they do not give.

Currently, he was going to be heading out with Kagami. His friends Lyon and Vallia invited them over for a home-cooked Greek meal. Since the twins were from Greece and both could cook quite well, they wanted to share this part of their culture with them. Kagami had been talking with Adrien about getting to know them more since they had known Adrien longer than his other friends. Other than Chloe, anyway. She was curious. Especially since they were from another country just like her.

It also helped that they also had his father's approval because of how their family is rich, very charitable, and incredibly well-connected.

Adrien soon met Kagami outside of the locker room. She was looking forward to dinner. Not only did she want to learn more about her boyfriend's friends, but she also had never tried Greek food before. She knew the names of some dishes but didn't know much more than that.

"Ready, Kagami," Adrien smiled at her and took her hand.

"I always am, Adrien," Kagami smiled back.

They were on their way out of Dupont when they heard something. It was music coming from somewhere else in the school. The sounds of a violin.

"You hear that too, right," Adrien asked his girlfriend.

"I believe I do," Kagami says. "Whoever is playing is really quite talented."

The two were very curious, so they followed the music. The music room did not get much use at Dupont. All the musicians that attended the school mostly preferred private practice or just performing for their friends like with Kitty Section. Kagami was still confused by their choice of a band name. She just didn't understand why such a silly and odd name was their choice. And if he was being honest with himself, Adrien didn't understand either. But they both mostly just shrugged it off.

Walking toward the music room, the two could hear the violin music more clearly. It was a beautiful soft tune that also had some type of musical feeling to it. Like they could tell that it belonged in a Disney movie or a Broadway show.

They opened the door and walked in. They were shocked by what they saw.

Inside the music room was Lyon Garden, the Ice Prince himself. He was playing the violin was as much grace and elegance as someone that had probably been playing it for years. His eyes seemed to be closed and his back was to the door, so he had no idea that they had come inside. There was no sign of his Flower Princess twin sister, Vallia Garden.

He continued to play until the song ended. Adrien and Kagami were both really impressed by the Greek's skill on the violin. He had never revealed much about what he liked to do other than archery. And most really only knew about his skills with a bow because when anyone annoyed him or made him mad, he would threaten to shoot them with an arrow. And considering that he was as skilled in archery as Adrien and Kagami were at fencing, odds are that he would not miss if he did shoot at someone.

When he stopped playing, Adrien and Kagami could not help but start clapping, applauding the amazing performance. Lyon immediately shot around, his eyes now fully open as he saw that he had gained an audience of two people. He did look relieved when he saw that it was just Adrien and Kagami. If it was anyone else, he might have been reaching for his bow.

"You two are lucky that I am holding my violin instead of my bow," he said, returning to his Ice Prince persona. "I don't do well with people sneaking up on me."

"You and Kagami will get along great, then," Adrien chuckled.

The fencing prodigy lightly punched him, Adrien bringing out her playful side the more they spent time with each other.

"You are really talented, Lyon," Kagami complimented the archer.

"I have been practicing the violin for years," Lyon says. "I find it to be an elegant instrument with a lovely sound. Unless you play it wrong and then it sounds like a dying cat."

That made the two fencers laughed at his comparison. Lyon then checked the time on his phone.

"I guess I was playing longer than I thought that I was," he said. "Can't have you two coming over and not even be in my own house to greet you two."

He packed up his violin and then walked over to the fencers with his bag and violin case. They both smiled at him as they all left together.

"I take it that Vallia is already at your house," Adrien guessed.

"Yeah," Lyon nodded. "She is probably gathering all the herbs that we need from our greenhouse as we speak."

"Is it a coincidence that you guys have a rooftop greenhouse or did you specifically choose that house," Adrien asked.

Lyon and Vallia live with their father in a manor/mansion almost as big as Agreste Mansion. It is just on the next street from Adrien's place. The Garden family now owned it and made it a family vacation home where they were currently living while they were in Paris. They even turned a side room on the bottom floor into a flower shop so that their father had a job even while their family sanctuary would keep them rich for generations to come.

"It was unused when we moved in," Lyon says. "We had to fix it up, add new windows, and install a sprinkling system for when we can not do the watering ourselves."

They started walking to the Garden vacation home. Thankfully it was a slow day and not even Hawkmoth was active. The last thing that the secret Cat Noir and White Wolf needed was to have their dinner ruined by an akuma attack.

"I have seen this place on the market for years," Adrien says as they approach the manor. "It's been so long that I never thought that it would be bought."

"I think that the saying is 'never say never,' Adrien," Kagami tells her boyfriend.

"Well, I certainly have learned my lesson now," Adrien chuckled.

He placed his arm around her as they got closer to the house. When they got to the door, he opened it for her and Kagami let out the closest thing to a giggle that she could let out and then went inside.

"You two are sickly sweet," Lyon playfully rolled his eyes. "My sweet tooth hurts, now."

"Don't get used to it," Adrien smirked. "Once Kagami gets a sword into her hand, sweet is probably the last word that you would ever use to describe her."

"You are lucky that I do not have my sword with me right now, Agreste," Kagami slapped him on the shoulder again.

"You two are fencers, my sister is a master at the bo-staff, I've seen Marinette and her mom both use martial arts very well," Lyon rolled his eyes. "I have surrounded myself with violent people and I did not even know it."

"Just lucky, I guess," Adrien chuckled.

"Plus, there had also been Mason..." Lyon froze after he said that name, completely freezing.

"Uh... Lyon," Kagami waved her hand in front of her new friend's face.

She shared a look with Adrien. They had never seen Lyon freeze like this before. He could make you feel like you had a case of frostbite with his icy attitude sometimes, but this was something new to them.

"Paris to Lyon," Adrien shook his shoulder.

It took a minute, but Lyon eventually snapped out of whatever trance he had been put in.

"My apologies," he said. "I do not know what happened."

"Let's... Let's just go upstairs," Adrien says.

Lyon nodded. He led them up the stairs. Sharing another look, the couple followed him. They did not know much about what had happened, but there was something familiar about it to them. To Adrien, it was like when he first tried to talk about his mom after she went missing. To Kagami, it was like after her father had first died. Lyon was feeling grief and froze when he mentioned the person he was grieving over.

It was a very quiet walk up the stairs. Lyon had a tendency to go icy a lot, but that was more because he generally liked to be quiet and cold in crowds. He uses it as a way to filter out those that are trustworthy or not. To see which ones are brave enough to see if there is a heart beyond the icy persona.

As they entered the main area of the house, upstairs, the French boy and Japanese girl felt like they had been teleported to Greece. The walls were all completely white but were lined at the bottom with a beautiful ocean wave-like painting at the bottom, where the wall met the floor. The floor was also mostly ocean-themed tile with some silver and blue carpets dotted here and there. There were also multiple pictures on the walls with either their family, their family sanctuary, the animals in the sanctuary, or just pictures of the Greece scenery.

The furniture was also mostly typical chairs made out of strong strands of wood that were woven together as a basket would be. Some were regular tan wood while others were white. But they all had cushions to make them more comfortable. There were two couches in the living room with the chairs. One was a regular white leather couch while the other was a bench-like couch that was hanging from the ceiling by strong but thin white ropes.

The manor was divided by floors, so it was very different on the inside to Agreste Mansion.

Soon after they got into the room, Vallia came walking down another set of stairs. In her arms was a Little Red Riding Hood-type basket that was filled with a lot of herbs.

"Welcome to Garden Manor," she smiled at the two of them.

"Thank you for the invite," Adrien smiled back.

"It's a pleasure meeting you," Kagami says.

Vallia puts the basket down and then shakes Kagami's offered hand. She eyed her brother, who had seemed to have gone into his icy persona, which was unusual since he was around her and their friends.

"I'll be right back to help with dinner, Vallia," Lyon tells her. "I... I just need something in my room."

"Oh... Okay," was all Vallia managed to say before Lyon almost seems to run out of the room.

"I don't think I have ever seen him act like that before," Adrien says. "Yes, he is the Ice Prince to those like Lila and Chloe, but this is different from that."

"Did something happen on your way over," Vallia asked as she took the basket of herbs into their very large kitchen.

"Well, would it matter that we found Lyon playing the violin before we came here," Kagami said. "Would that be relevant?"

Vallia sadly nodded. "He mention anyone?"

"Well, we were having a nice talk on our way here," Adrien tells her. "He was joking about being around so many violent people."

"Then he mentioned someone by the name of Mason," Kagami says. "That was when he froze up."

Vallia sighed again. "Yeah, that would pretty much do it."

"Who is Mason," Adrien asked. "But you do not have to tell us if you don't want to."

Vallia looked at them, thinking what she could say. The twins have always been private people, one of the reasons why they don't like Alya and her need to film so many things, but did not mean that they could not open up just like everyone else.

"You two might want to sit down for this," Vallia says, sitting in a chair herself.

Adrien and Kagami took a seat on the hanging couch, which was the closet piece of furniture to the gardener.

"Is everything okay," Kagami asked her.

"We'll be fine," Vallia says. "Lyon just needs some time. He cared about Mason more than almost everyone in the family."

"Who is he," Adrien asked.

"Mason is... Mason was... our older brother," Vallia started, shocking the couple. "He was older than Lyon and I, but younger than our brother Apollo. The violin you saw Lyon play used to belong to him. He plays it to always have a part of Mason with him since he had been a violin prodigy."

"What happened to him," Kagami asked.

"Well, you two know fully well that Lyon is gay," Vallia says.

The couple nodded. Lyon was very out about who he chose to love. And the fact that he and Luka never really hid when they were making-out certainly made it loud and clear which way that they swung. Adrien always snickered when he would see the very obvious twitch of annoyance in Lila's eyes when she was around and saw them. Adrien knew that it was because now there was another rich and handsome guy that she could not lie her way into a relationship with. Especially when he, himself, started publically referring to Kagami as his girlfriend.

"I think there isn't anyone in Paris that doesn't know that," Adrien chuckled even with the tense atmosphere.

"He is very open with his relationship with Couffaine," Kagami says. "I once caught them making out after practice."

"I don't think a single person in school hasn't caught them," Adrien chuckled again. "I once saw Lyon chasing after Aurore and threatening to shoot her with an arrow because she had apparently taken a few pictures of him and Luka. She was laughing the whole time, so I don't think she knew how serious Lyon was about shooting her."

"He only shoots poachers, animal abusers, and animal traffickers, if I remember correctly," Kagami said.

"Yes, but we are getting off track," Vallia got their attention again. "The point is, Mason was also gay. He came out of us when he was twelve. We accepted him, of course, but not everyone was like us."

"God," Adrien gasped since as a model, he knew how much the world of fashion was very open to the LGBT community, so homophobia was horrific to him.

"Mason was very popular, especially once he got to high school," Vallia continued. "His friends knew he was gay, but Mason was also very private. So he was not really out in the open as Lyon is. So he was also very popular with the girls since they did not know better. But one girl was not going to take 'no' for an answer once she saw a handsome and rich guy like Mason."

"I guess that is why Lyon hates Lila so much," Adrien said. "He sees her constantly hanging on my arm no matter how much I tell her to let go."

"Do I need to threaten her with my sword... again," Kagami reached for the blade that was in her fencing bag.

"Later, Kagami," Adrien put his hand on her girlfriend's.

"Her name had been Cleo Sora," Vallia says. "She was basically like the worst versions of Chloe and Lila out into one person. The Queen Bee of the school that did anything to keep her power and always seem like the most important person around. She saw Mason and thought that he would be the perfect King Bee, even when that is not a thing. He turned her down... a lot. No matter what she did, how she dressed, or how much she tried to drape herself over him, he always made it clear that he would never be interested in her. It came to the point that his friends were basically a protection squad to keep her away from him."

"Sounds like what Nino and Kim have become to protect Marinette from Lila," Adrien said.

"The problem was that since Cleo was very popular, and that she had powerful tv hosts as parents, she always had people listening to her," Vallia says. "The more Mason rejected her, the angrier that she got. She saw herself as perfect and as basically more perfect than even Aphrodite, the literal goddess of beauty. That was when she eavesdropped on Mason and his friends and found out he was gay. She didn't like that."

"Oh my," Kagami gasped, not liking where the story was going.

"She started vicious rumors about Mason," Vallia looked to be fighting tears. "Saying that he only had friends because he slept with them all, that hit any girl that approached him in private, that he abused the animals that he took care of at the sanctuary. More and more people turned their backs on Mason no matter how many times he and his friends denied everything. Not even pointing out that there was never any proof to the rumors helped them."

"This girl really is like Lila and Chloe," Adrien said. "Only worse. Not even Lila has lied about Marinette sleeping with anyone. And Chloe only ruins days, not lives."

"Mason might have been six years older than us, but Lyon and I saw how much it was hurting him," Vallia could not stop the tears that flowed down her face. "Mason became more distant by the day. He started to stop coming to dinner and barely showed up at the sanctuary anymore. He was strong, but even the strongest wall gets knocked down if you hit it enough. Cleo managed to find him in private and threatened that if did not give up his 'f*****t way of life' and date her, she would scream rape to everyone within hearing distance."

"God," Adrien gasped.

"Lyon was the one that found him," Vallia was barely keeping it together. "Mason was hanging by the ceiling fan in his room. Lyon freaked and basically lost it. Mason couldn't take it any longer. His resistance broke and could not take the shame that such a rumor would bring to our family. That was also the day that the 'Ice Prince' was born. None of us were ever the same, but Lyon was especially hit. Mason was a hero to Lyon, probably the one person Lyon would ever see as perfect. Mason killing himself basically froze Lyon's heart for a long time."

Kagami might have been known as the Ice Queen around Dupont, but she looked to be fighting her own tears as she heard the story. Adrien was looking down the hall where Lyon had disappeared down. He had no idea that his friend held so much pain inside of him.

"We had no idea," Adrien said.

"Lyon doesn't like talking about him," Vallia says. "He wants to keep it under lock and key as long as possible."

"I get it," Kagami says. "I know more than others how much easier it is to hide our real emotions behind a mask of ice."

"If I was in Lyon's place, I probably would have done the same thing," Adrien admitted.

"Lyon can be very open when he wants to be, but he will always have a wall up," Vallia said. "Playing the violin, Mason's violin,  helps him remember without breaking down."

"Music soothes the savage beasts," Adrien remembered from one of the trips their class had taken to the zoo.

Vallia nodded. "If there is one thing that Lyon knows, it's that music has power."

Adrien and Kagami had both known pain and loss. They were not going to push Lyon, but they knew that they were going to be there for him. After all, Adrien was a musician as well. So he knew the healing power that music had as well.

[robininthelabyrinth]

AU where all four sects take turns hosting the next generation of guest disciples, as they all have valuable things to teach - and they all start at Lotus Pier. Aka Lan Wangji being the visiting disciple in a place with entirely different rules and norms than he's used to. (Swimming lessons would be a bonus?)

Cloud Recesses, Gusu, age 15

“You don’t think they’re really going to make us wake up at mao hour?” Wei Wuxian whined. “Or sleep by the end of xu hour?”

“They’re not going to make us do anything,” Jiang Cheng groaned. “It’s just that activities will be ongoing when they’re awake, so if you miss them all by sleeping until si hour, that’s your problem. It’s not like we made them do anything when they were back at the Lotus Pier…”

“What are you talking about?” Nie Huaisang wanted to know. “You all most certainly made poor Lan-xiong stay up past his bedtime when he was visiting the Lotus Pier – and the same for the rest of us, too!”

Wei Wuxian, who had led most of the forcing-to-stay-up-late nonsense, coughed. “Yes, well…speaking of Lan Zhan, do you think he’ll be happy to see me?”

“No,” both Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang chorused.

-

Lotus Pier, Yunmeng, age 9

“You’re all going to have to do everything I say,” Wei Wuxian boasted, sticking his thumb back at himself. “Because I’m a Jiang disciple and you’re not.”

“That’s not how it works!” Jiang Cheng hissed, batting at him. “That’s not how it works at all, just stop talking –”

“Nice to meet you, Wei-xiong,” Nie Huaisang said happily. “Please take good care of me.”

“Nooooo, now you’re encouraging him…!”

“Who’s that?” Wei Wuxian said suddenly, eyes wide, and he pointed at a small boy in white jumping down from the sword of the adult he’d been flying with – gracefully descending from the sky, his white robes all fluttering around him, he looked like a beautiful crane diving down to catch a fish.

“Oh, that’s the Second Young Master Lan – he’s going to be part of our group,” Nie Huaisang said. “You think he’s fancy, wait until you see Young Master Jin, all covered in gold –”

“I’m going to say hello!” Wei Wuxian said, and rushed over.

“Well, that’s going to be a disaster,” Jiang Cheng said with a sigh, then looked at Nie Huaisang with a suspicious expression. “How good at you at swimming?”

“Uh. Outside a bathtub?”

“Good,” Jiang Cheng said, satisfied that unlike Wei Wuxian, these new visitors would not be inexplicitly excellent at all things – moving through water like a fish, taking to archery as if he’d always known it, even advancing his cultivation so quickly that he’d become equal to or even better than Jiang Cheng in the few months he’d been at the Lotus Pier. “I’ll teach you. Well, all of you, I guess. You can’t be at the Lotus Pier and not know how to swim.”

-

Unclean Realm, Qinghe, age 11

“I’ve put you two in this room,” Nie Huaisang said proudly. “It’s nice and big, with a good window, and it’s the furthest away from where I’ve put the Lan disciples.”

Wei Wuxian pouted. “They can’t still be mad about what happened last time?”

“They’re going to be mad forever,” Jiang Cheng said. “You tied up Lan-xiong with his own forehead ribbon! And you told him it was Yunmeng sect rules! We don’t even have sect rules in Yumeng!”

“I was only kidding…”

“Look on the bright side,” Nie Huaisang said hastily. “We don’t have a lot of rules at Qinghe, either – we have principles that everyone’s supposed to keep up with. As long as you can justify yourself as having intended to do the right thing, you’ll get listened to – though what actually results matters just as much, I guess. But there’s no rules against fighting!”

Two small eyes fixed on him at once.

“What do you mean, no rules against fighting?” Jiang Cheng asked, suspicious.

“Well, you’re supposed to challenge people properly, but as long as you tell them in advance that you’re going to start a fight with them and give them a little time to adjust, fighting is generally allowed,” Nie Huaisang said. “So if you want to start trouble with Jin Zixuan this time, you don’t have to pretend like you’re not starting trouble.”

“Really?”

“We’re very straightforward here in Qinghe.”

“I’m going to go punch him until shijie doesn’t like him any more,” Jiang Cheng said, sounding very pleased with the idea. “What do you think, Wei Wuxian? Wei Wuxian!”

“Huh? Oh, sorry, I was just wondering where Lan Zhan was, since he’s not on the training field.”

“Maybe he went hunting in the forest? As long as you stay inside the boundaries, you can do that whenever you like, too. Same with the caves –”

“Caves? You have caves? And we can explore them?”

“It’s not really exploring, you have to stay in the marked boundaries – ”

“It’s exploring when you go past them! I’m going to go see if Lan Zhan wants to explore them with me!”

“Leave him alone! Wasn’t it bad enough that you got him involved in stealing those lotus seeds last time? Now you want to go trespass past the boundaries and probably get lost –”

“We’re not going to get lost!”

-

Koi Tower, Lanling, age 13

“– and you’ve all been given maps to make sure none of you get lost,” Jin Zixuan concluded his introduction. “Unlike last time.”

“We didn’t get lost,” Wei Wuxian mumbled. “It was a camping trip. It just went a little longer than expected, that’s all.”

“There had to be a search party,” Jiang Cheng hissed at him. “Shut up.”

“I’m telling you, that wasn’t a real search party. Or, well, it was more party and less search –”

“Anyway, you’re all here at Lanling to learn from our Jin sect. Our values –”

“Being rich is a value?” Wei Wuxian wondered.

Jiang Cheng elbowed him, but Nie Huaisang giggled.

“– our traditions –”

“Being rich is a tradition?”

“– and history – ”

“Being rich is a – ow! Stop hitting me!”

“Then shut up!” Jin Zixuan snapped. “I didn’t say mean things about your Jiang sect when I was visiting!”

“You said so many mean things,” Nie Huaisang said.

“I – uh – ”

“It’s okay,” Jiang Cheng said, a little grudgingly. “You can still hang out with us instead of Wen Chao or your awful cousin.”

Jin Zixuan looked deeply relieved.

“I still can’t believe your dad invited them, anyway,” Wei Wuxian said. “They’re not even really our age.”

“So what is there to do here?” Nie Huaisang asked, changing the subject. “I heard there’s really good shopping.”

“Oh, definitely,” Jin Zixuan said. “You can buy anything you want, no limits.”

“No limits? Not even…?”

“We’re thirteen; we’re practically adults,” Jin Zixuan said. “We can buy anything.”

“Great,” Jiang Cheng said, rolling his eyes. “Now that you’ve said that, I would bet money that Wei Wuxian is going to buy someone a prostitute.”

“Why say someone?” Nie Huaisang said with a giggle. “He’s going to buy one for Lan-xiong –”

“I am not!”

-

Cloud Recesses, Gusu, age 15

“I’ll have you know that Lan Zhan and I have a very good relationship,” Wei Wuxian said. “Formed from many years of friendship.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not called friendship,” Jiang Cheng said. “More like…uh…Nie Huaisang, help me out here.”

“My brother says it’s flirting,” Nie Huaisang volunteered.

“Not that!” Jiang Cheng hissed even as Wei Wuxian turned red and started spluttering. “That is not what I meant!”

“Are you sure?” Nie Huaisang asked. “I’m just saying, because in the books –”

“The erotic art collection you started in Lanling is going to be the death of us all one day.”

“Say one more bad thing and I won’t let you borrow anything more.”

Jiang Cheng cleared his throat and shut up, his own cheeks red as well. “I was just saying –” he mumbled, and then Wei Wuxian interrupted, jumping up and down and waving his hands.

“Do you think Lan Zhan thinks I’ve been flirting with him?” he demanded. “Do you? And if he does - what does he think about me?”

[itsclydebitches]

You all want to hear a shocking secret? I’m still writing these 😅 

Drabble #3 for @valasania-the-pale! 

Reckless Conversation 

Pairing: Future Geralt/Dandelion with pining Dandelion and references to other ships

Word Count: 3,581

How'd it go? Geralt would ask, head bent over his blade like he wasn't hanging on Ciri's every word. 

I think I broke Dandelion's nose should produce a fun reaction. 

That was an enjoyment only future Ciri had access to though. Right now, present Ciri had to deal with the damn thing. 

"It's not that bad," she insisted, even as blood soaked through the rag she'd given him. She winced as Dandelion all but stuffed the material up his nostrils in an effort to stop the flow. Ciri was pretty sure she'd last used that to mop up some drowner slime... best not mention it. Besides, it wasn’t like he was breathing through his nose right now. "It's fine. You're fine." 

"I'd like to be the judge of that!" came the muffled reply. Dandelion staggered to a nearby water trough, blinking down at his own reflection. When he straightened his face was curiously blank. "You've ruined me." 

"Oh please." 

"I'm done. Through. My career will never recover. I hope it was worth it, little miss witcher, I really do." 

"Okay, first of all you're fine. Second, I doubt a bruised nose will hinder your poetry—" 

"I am speaking of my romantic career, dear, keep up!" 

Ciri rolled her eyes to the heavens, half hoping they'd open up and drown her. Dandelion had dropped plaintively to his knees, staring into the water and bemoaning his bloodstained shirt. She bit down on the urge to point out the new mud on his trousers. 

"Maybe," she said, rocking back on her heels, "you shouldn't go grabbing little miss witchers from the depths of alleyways. They have a tendency to hit first and ask questions later." 

The glare didn't surprise her. The words though... 

"Well, I was happy to see you." 

Oh. 

Shaking her head, Ciri pulled Dandelion to his feet and straight into a hug. "And I'm happy to see you too. Drama and all." 

The sounds emanating from her shoulder were curiously wet, though whether that was due to injury or emotion she couldn't say. "Friends pay for ruined clothes, you know." 

"Not when one friend has a monopoly on Novigrad's entertainment district and the other barely has two coins to her name. Plus, I'm pretty sure one of them is counterfeit. I owe someone else a broken nose. Sorry you got it instead." 

With a laugh Dandelion pulled away. "In truth I'm happy to receive anything you might give me, Ciri. Though I'd really prefer a strong drink." 

"I think we can manage that." 

After checking that his nose truly wasn't broken — just blooming a display of color that would put many painters to shame — Dandelion took Ciri's hand and led her into the city. He wasn't a native, but he might as well have been given the number of years he'd spent here, moving between high society circles and dangerous slums. Ciri knew there were few who could show her Novigrad like Dandelion and after months on the Path she was more than happy to let someone else call the shots for a while. 

She shouldn't have been surprised when, just minutes later, she was steered into a small alcove, the entrance so dark even she might have missed it passing by. An elf stood off to the side of a door, the bulk of his arms contrasting the ornamentally styled tunic. He inclined his head towards Dandelion as they slipped inside. 

"Milireth," he whispered, though the sudden onslaught of chatter made that unnecessary. "Great chap. Bit taciturn for my taste, but then I have plenty of stirring conversation for the two of us. He had some trouble finding employment a while back — you know how inhumane those Eternal Fire folks are and yes, I use that term deliberately — so I called in a favor with Julia and got him a spot here. Perfect fit. Now Milireth, in turn, lets me in without Julia being any wiser." He dropped her a wink. 

"Dandelion. Are we going to get kicked out halfway through our drinks?" 

"Absolutely not. Probably not. Provided we keep to the back. Or provided Julia has gotten over her most recent grudge. Either way I'd consider those excellent odds. Come on!" 

He led her through the establishment with impressive skill, weaving among the closely packed tables, dodging feet and legs. As Ciri's eyes adjusted to the low light she realized why Milireth was a good fit for this place. While Novigrad tended to divide its species rather strictly by districts and boroughs, here there was a diverse mix Ciri had only ever seen among her own friends and family. Dwarves, humans, elves, and, she suspected, a doppler or two made up the majority of the crowd, largely keeping to their own tables but still intermingling to an almost unheard of degree. They were literally sharing elbow room, leaning into one another's space with a confidence that said here, at least, everyone was welcome. A figure all the way in the back was shrouded in their cloak, but claw-like hands brought a mug to their lips. A woman with slit eyes smiled as they passed. Another was giving off pheromones — if the men draped in her lap were any indication. Monsters of all manner took refuge in shadows, fortifying themselves with good food, better drink, and even, if any would admit it, the company. 

Dandelion gently pushed Ciri into an empty seat. Her legs felt loose as a water hag's stew. 

"What — ?" she started to say before realizing that she knew precisely what this place was. Ciri shook her head. No one liked stupid questions. "How does this place exist?" 

Dandelion waved a hand. "Well, the philosopher might spout something about life finding a way, no matter what might stand against it. The Captain of our guard would say that the scum of the city are unerringly skilled at meeting in clandestine places. I suppose that both are right in their own way. Me? I might wax poetic about the stunningly skillful enchantments that keep this place from prying eyes." 

Ciri's gaze dropped instinctively to the Cat medallion against her chest. It lay quiet as a grave. Well, a grave post-witcher contract. 

"Very sophisticated enchantments," Dandelion said. 

"I'll say. I'm surprised you and the other humans aren't buckling with migraines." Ciri wasn't sure what protected her exactly. The Elder Blood, early exposure to magic, the fact that she was a Source... who could say. Except maybe Yen, and the last time she'd brought it up she'd gotten a mind-numbing lecture for her trouble. Better to simply let some things remain a mystery. 

Dandelion shrugged. "We will. Eventually. In an hour or two, but by that point one should be three sheets to the wind, so who can really tell the difference?" With a grin he waved down a passing barmaid who unceremoniously dropped two mugs on their table. Apparently one didn't order here. Or if you did, best be quick about it. The barmaid paused only long enough to peer closely at Dandelion's face. By the stretching of his grin he no doubt thought her a suitable distraction. Ciri suspected she was just interested in the growing bruise. 

She ignored them both to try the drink. Bitter and frothy, but it went down easier than most of what she'd had in the last year. Ciri took a long swing and wiped her mouth on her sleeve. 

"Which means," Dandelion continued, waving the barmaid away, "that we have more than enough time for you to tell me everything you've been up to. Don't spare the details! Though you may not have my knack for storytelling, dear, I know you're not entirely without talent. If you leave even a morsel out I'll be devastated." 

"Well, far be it from me to devastate you." 

"Precisely." 

So Ciri told Dandelion all, keeping her voice low in case a room full of creatures didn't take kindly to a list of her contracts. A few had eyed her swords upon entry, but said nothing, seemingly content to keep out of her way provided Ciri kept out of theirs. It was only too bad she couldn't say the same of her travels. Drowner infestations were one thing, even if the sailors too often tried to get handsy instead of paying her in coin, but a pack of werewolves had given her trouble for a solid month. All born into the curse, they possessed the ability to transform at will and had used it to their advantage as bandits, terrorizing a collection of villages. Solving the problem without indiscriminate slaughter had been a tricky business, demanding that Ciri pull from her knowledge of negotiation and mediation: neither of which were her strong suits. 

The werewolves at least would live out their days as members of a community. The rampaging godling out in Kaedwen was another matter entirely. Ciri hadn't had the privilege of meeting one until then — and she'd always assumed it was a privilege based on Geralt's teachings. "Not a beast to be put down," he'd say, eyeing the aggressive drunk. "Just mischievous. Respect them and at the very least you'll finish your contract without bloodshed. At best you'll come out of it with a friend." Well, she'd been more than respectful. Especially towards a being whose mischievous nature had resulted in families terrified of their own dreams, to the point where one newly minted wife had walked out her window. Another strangled her infant, thinking it an intruder. Ciri had tried to establish if the families had moved into what the godling perceived as her territory, if she had some sort of grievance towards young wives and mothers, even if it were possible for their species to fall under spells... all of it came to naught. Her inquiries were only met with laughter and, in time, more death. When a member of the Viper school had passed through and casually mentioned burdock root for navigating dreams, she'd bought him a drink, crushed a whole stem up in hers, and met the godling in another reality. Ciri couldn't swear she killed it, though as the Lady of Time and Space she suspected she'd had that edge. Either way, afterwards the women had slept soundly for a fortnight and it had felt safe to move on. 

There were others, of course, though no encounter quite as thrilling. It seemed like no matter how much people sneered at the trade — Geralt for his yellow eyes, her for being born a woman — everyone had a nest of something in need of extermination. Or a haunting to be put right. Or even, on occasion, just a particularly nasty job that no one else wanted to do. Ciri didn't mind mucking about in the sewers, provided her payment got her a bath at the end of the day. As well as, weeks later, the humor in watching Dandelion's face twist in on itself. 

"You didn't," he murmured, taking a large gulp of his drink. He swirled it as if to wash away an imaginary taste. "You drank from it?" 

"It was either that or die of thirst. I don't have a witcher's mutations. Sometimes you've just got to make do." 

"You poor, wretched thing." 

“Oh I know. Buy a poor, wretched thing another drink?” 

Speaking with Dandelion was easy. Even when he interrupted to supply what he considered to be the superior description, or went off on his own, thrilling tangents — forever stealing the spotlight. They were just the quirks of talking to him and after so long on the Path Ciri found herself welcoming the familiar. More than that, or the warm interior, or even the satisfying drink, she soaked up the feeling of family that permeated the air. 

It was a funny thing that, family. Funny, at least, if you shared her sense of humor. If anyone asked about her parentage (and plenty certainly had) they were in for quite the explanation. Born to the lovely Pavetta and Duny, though orphaned at a terribly young age. So really, in spirit Ciri’s parents were her grandparents, nothing less than the Lioness of Cintra herself and her devoted husband, Eist Tuirseach. But oh, haven't you heard? Her father hadn't really died. Why, he was no mere Lord, but the Emperor of Nilfgaard himself! Emhyr var Emreis, The White Flame Dancing on the Barrows of his Enemies and so on and so forth. Surely then he would be the one she referred to as 'Father'? Well, not when one considered a slew of complexities there, including her status as a Child Surprise. Duny, Eist, and Emhyr may have all vowed for the title of 'Father,' but destiny gave that dubious privilege to Geralt of Rivia and time proved one a wise man and the other a fool. So it was that Ciri found herself with three fathers, technically, though four if one considered the childhood emotions she'd attached to the Urcheon of Erlenwald. Two mothers as well, with the third arriving along with Geralt: Yennefer of Vengerberg. Sorceress. Visionary. Protector in the extreme. 

Yet the irony was that it didn't stop there. Who were the other witchers if not additional fathers, given joke names like 'Uncle' and 'Brother' to avoid confusion? What else made up the Lodge but mothers when it was they who taught her everything from magic to the ungodly chore of managing her blood each month? For an orphan Ciri had an uncommon number of parental figures... including the man who sat across from her. 

"Who's raising who?" she'd once heard Dijkstra mutter while Geralt and Dandelion had argued over her. It had been about something inconsequential, the disagreement lost to time, but Ciri, hardly a teen, recalled thinking that they were indeed like children in their bickering. 

Now, as an adult, she was inclined to re-term such moments as... frisky. In the absurdly strange way of all witchers and bards. But really, what friends argued so strongly over the raising of a daughter? 

Their interactions across nearly fifteen years hadn't exactly escaped her notice, even if childhood had often mischaracterized what precisely those interactions were. Nor, of course, could Ciri have missed how Dandelion kept speaking of romance without naming any new paramours. 

"So," she said, leaning across the table. This time a young man passed with drinks and Ciri snatched one, enjoying the spicy scent. She dangled the brew before Dandelion's nose before taking a sloppy sip. She was no lightweight, but they didn't skimp on the alcohol here either. 

Dandelion leaned forward to meet her. "So?" 

"Don't tell me I've been blathering on and you haven't thought of a single thing to share? No exciting adventures of your own? No... new friends?" 

In the shadows of the establishment Dandelion's face fell, then grew soft. In an instant the performer was gone and in his place sat a man closer to fifty than forty, a little tired, a little stressed, but more happy than anything else. He took the mug out of her hands and stole a drink for himself. "Can I share a secret with you, dear?" 

"Always." 

"Promise not to tell?" 

"Witcher's honor." 

"Your skillfully thrown punch may not have been the death of my career. I fear that's coming along just fine on its own." 

"Come on." 

He chuckled, so light and airy it floated away into the conversation around them. Ciri only knew he was laughing because of that smile and the shake in his shoulders. 

"All right, all right. You've caught me. There are still many men and women alike who flock to my side post-performance. Even a few who have asked for a private staging, if you catch my drift." 

"Dandelion. I've 'caught your drift' since I was fourteen and you gave me a lecture on avoiding venereal disease." 

"Did I?" 

"You were drunk." 

He took another massive gulp from their shared mug. "Well, that would explain it. But yes, I'm still popular — thank the gods for that — but I'd be a fool not to acknowledge that most of that stems from my unparalleled musical talent and a hefty nest egg. I'm not as limber as I once was, dear. I have wrinkles." Dandelion shook like a dog shedding water. 

Ciri smiled. Slow. Syrupy. "You're still the most handsome poet I know." 

"Oh thank you. I should hope so! The others are all cads..." 

"And you're dodging the question. Or the implied question, since I know you like to get technical." Dandelion scoffed. "No new friends? No last hurrahs before your golden years? Come off it, Dandelion. The last two times we've met up you haven't mentioned a single new 'acquaintance' and we both know you'd be talking up any encounters whether they'd been good or not. A girl's got to wonder." 

"A girl's gotten nosy." He slammed the now empty mug back on the table. "Let's go." 

"Ah — look. Sorry. If you don't want to talk about it — " 

"I don't want to talk about it here." Dandelion rolled his eyes with such fervor that Ciri worried for a moment that they'd leave his head. "Come now. Have I ever kept things from you? I'll tell all with a master's flair, but I'm doing it out of their earshot. Besides, that headache’s starting up." 

A few patrons cast them looks, which Ciri could only interpret as confirmation that they'd been eavesdropping. Then again, she'd been doing the same. There was a certain amount of camaraderie as they left the establishment, Dandelion passing a hand over all he knew (and dropping reminders not to mention him to Julia) and even she got a few nods of recognition. Changling, bard, vampire, or un-mutated Witcher, it seemed so long as you kept yourself to yourself all were welcome. 

She'd have to come back sometime. 

Ciri took note of the street as they ambled away, Dandelion's arm comfortably tucked into hers. They'd nearly reached the market before he spoke. 

"I know I just promised a tale, but are you really going to make me explain this?" His petulance drew out a laugh. 

"No," she admitted. "What's to explain? I’m not blind. You've spent the last twenty years following Geralt around and very nearly losing your head for the trouble. Or your voice. Your arm. Your balls, if some of those stories are to be believed."

"Oh, believe it, my dear."

"So I think that speaks for itself. Mere friends don't go to such lengths."

The toe of Dandelion's boot found a small stone, sending it soaring ahead of them. "Yet you forget one crucial detail."

"Enlighten me."

"Future loves do not have poetry worthy relationships with a sorceress."

She ground them both to a halt, the sudden loss of momentum drawing a curse from Dandelion. "Are you kidding me?" He squawked as Ciri reached up to knock some sense into him. Try to, anyway. "Oh, I knew immersing yourself in that exaggerated, destiny-laden, overly dramatic drivel would cause problems someday."

"One moment now! Drivel?"

Ciri ignored the outcry. "Yes, Geralt loves Yen... Just like Yen loves Istredd. Triss loves Geralt. Triss and Yen both had that weird thing for Philippa and don't even get me started on Fringilla. What do you think it means that Geralt spent months with Regis and Yen still dragged him up to that unicorn the moment he returned? Or that they casually talk about a 'sorceress' work' over the breakfast table? Dandelion, he's past his first century with so little family left. If you think that leaves less room for you in this mess than you're not nearly as smart as the masses claim. You’ve been listening to your own ballads too much."

She supposed this was some kind of accomplishment: leaving the most verbose man in The Continent utterly speechless. The alcohol still burned in the back of her throat and Ciri could admit that, in a more sober, everyday moment, she probably wouldn't have said as much as she had. But it was all true and dammit, if she'd learned anything since the Frost it was that a short life could be just as cursed as a long one. She was sick of people — herself included — letting things pass by.

"I don't know which is harder to believe," Dandelion murmured, raising a hand to his brow. "That you have twice assaulted me on this beautiful day. That I am being egged into a relationship with a witcher by his uncouth daughter..."

"Or?"

"Or that he remains that stunningly handsome at over a hundred years old."

Ciri snorted, tugging him along. Dandelion stumbled a moment, a testament to her words, but did quickly regain his feet. "You know we've never shied from discussions of sex in this family. Love though? Absolutely... so go slowly there."

A blush stained the great poet's cheeks, though no one else would have caught it on such a hot, sunny day. He delicately cleared his throat. "Any suggestions?"

"Hmm." Ciri pretended to think, tapping her chin. "We've been apart so long and really, our day has only just started, so I suggest that you come home with me. The three of us can start by having lunch."

The blush turned into a conspiratorial smile. "Where you will unexpectedly disappear, leaving the two of us alone?"

"But of course."

"My dear Ciri, I'll make a storyteller out of you yet."

A story she was more than happy to work on. How'd it go? Geralt would ask, trying to hide both face and curiosity. She'd done enough telling for today and Ciri looked forward to dragging Dandelion into their home, shoving him forward, and letting two of her dads work that out for themselves.

[kimberly-spirits13]

Home Invasion

Pairing: Damian Wayne x reader

Synopsis: While at home for the weekend while your parents are away for a business trip, you decided to order pizza. You didn’t think anything would go wrong when doing this, but then again, you were now living in a nightmare

Warnings: Mentions of being shot, home invasion

Word Count: 1770

        It was a pretty regular Friday night for you. The house was quiet but for the movie playing in the background, your parents were on a trip to Washington DC for business, and Damian was set to arrive in 2 hours to stay over. You didn’t have much planned that night, however when your stomach started to rumble, you decided to order some pizza for yourself. Ringing up your favorite pizza place, you got your favorite and sat back to wait for its arrival.

        As you were walking down the hallway and back into the living room from the bathroom, you heard the doorbell.

        “Strange.” You thought, “There was no notification from the guards.”

        Looking down at your phone, your thoughts were confirmed. Since you were home alone, you went to a covered part where no one would see you and checked the front cameras. It was the pizza guy, the right pizza guy in fact. You could tell that he was getting impatient more and more and eventually, you opened the door figuring that if anything happened, you’d be able to handle it.

        “Hello.” You said opening the door, “I paid online already.”

        “That’s wonderful Miss. L/N, however that’s not what I’m here for.” The man that was standing there said.

        Before you could slam the door, he pulled out a small pistol. Without much time at all, shots were fired and you had been grazed by one bullet and shot in the arm by another. Luckily, this one wasn’t a very good shot. You stepped back in pain some before throwing the box at him and slamming the door, locking it and then shutting the curtains on the windows. The only thing that you had heard from him was his voice calling an all clear for more in his group on the cell phone that he now had in his hands.

        “You have got to be kidding me!” You hissed army crawling into the kitchen, “Siri, call Dami.”

        As the phone was ringing, you grabbed the first aid kit and started wrapping up your arm. It wasn’t long before he picked up with a casual voice.      

        “Hello belov-“

        You cut him off quickly, “Damian, I need you to get here now. I ordered pizza and instead it was some guy with a pistol. He got me in the arm and called for backup.”

        Damian paused before you heard the loud sounds of footsteps running down the hallway.      

        “Where are you?” He asked entering the cave.

        “I’m in the kitchen wrapping the wound, I don’t know about getting my suit on since it would give me away but I can try and get to my weapons and upper body armor under my clothes.”

        “Do that, I’m on my way.” You heard him zip something up, clip another item, and then rev up his bike before speeding off.

        “Just give me a second, I’m switching to the comms.” Quickly, you hit the emergency button on your phone for the police and then put an earpiece in before you started talking some more.

        “Can you hear me?” You asked working up the steps.

        “I can, are you still okay?” Damian questioned.

        “I am. I’m going up to my room. I don’t know where they are but I’ll check the cameras once I’m changed.”

        You ran down the hallway and turned left into your bedroom before shutting and locking the door. All of the other doors upstairs were locked and you hoped that they would pick the right side of the staircase to clear before your side. Immediately, you went inside to your bathroom and locked that door before doing the same in your closet door and then, into the secret vault room that you had installed to keep your suit and weapons. You liked to call it your mini Batcave when wannabe killers weren’t chasing you.

        Quickly, you took off your top and put the bullet -proof armor that you typically wore on and then put your shirt on back over it. Over that you had your swords, similar to Damian’s but not too close. In your holsters, emergency knives and, just incase, two pistols with plenty of magazines to keep you going. You knew that you could just stay in here and wait for Damian to arrive to take out the assailants. But this was your home, and you’d be damned if any fake pizza man got into it.

        Quietly, you walked to the camera monitors. In the back of the house you noticed no activity. Then you checked the sides along with the fencing cameras. That’s when the thought dawned on you that the people at the front gate are either dead or they left. You were all on your own in this fight. The only place that the men could be now is the front. It was a bold move but you knew it was probably something that they did because they were either inexperienced or they were trying to scare you.

        You hid in the shadows, shutting off all of the lights and getting into position. All of them were accounted for, knowing that the man only called for 5 more. Not moving, you waited and waited for them to enter before the sound of the front window busting open put you on a higher alert. Watching them enter, you noticed their height and build, looking for their weak spots and sizing them up.

        “Miss. L/N! We’re here!” One of them called out laughing.

        You cringed some at his actions not really wanting to think about what he was to do if it wasn’t just a murder and robbery. They walked in and split up. That would make it easy to take them out without starting a firefight. Besides, you did want to keep the house as in tact as possible, you know, parents and all. They didn’t know that you were doing this kind of work so you figured it would be best to not stab them with a sword since that would be extremely telling. Instead, you leapt down to the first one and as he turned around, threw a knife right into his chest. Batman might have had a no kill rule, however right now, you didn’t care anymore.

        The first man was down. Now, there were only 5 more to go. Carefully, you tracked the next one and after taking him out, the third one. You didn’t think you’d need Damian during this but at the same time, you didn’t really want him to see what you were doing and had done.

        The third target wasn’t as easy. As a heavier set, taller man, he didn’t go down without somewhat of a fight. You didn’t want to pull out your guns as to not alert the others in the house of your location, but you didn’t have to worry about that for long since he knocked over a plant causing a great smash.

        You sighed, “That was more expensive than the hospital bills my parents paid when I was born you idiot.”

        Now that your position was given away, you fired a few shots into his head and chest, effectively taking him out. The other three rallied around you. For some reason, these were more experienced. They had had training and you could tell. One of them punched your arm which made you let out a cry in pain.

        “You stupid girl, thinking you could take us all out.” The one that hit you laughed.

        He tried to do it again before you moved out of the way and threw him into the fireplace. The man groaned in pain as the others looked at you with more anger in their eyes. They two pulled out more guns making your eyes go wide before you let a smoke screen down and escaped to regroup.

        “Damian where are you?” You asked.  

        “I’m about to enter the house, are you still alright?” He replied in a worried but angry tone.

        “Yeah, just bruised up a bit. These guys aren’t like normal robbers, they’re trained.” “Just be careful.” You said.

        “You know I will be.”

        With heavy breaths looking down at your leg you noticed that you’d be grazed again. This time you didn’t really notice because of the adrenaline that was rising. Sighing, you stepped back out and went into the hallway where the men had disappeared.

        “Damian, they’re not in the living room anymore… I don’t know where they are.” You informed.

        “They’re on the upper porch with me, I need assistance.” Damian said.

        “W-what? How did they get up there?” You mumbled heading upstairs in disbelief.

        The moment that you got to the railing of the third story porch that was just above you, you went to reach to pull yourself over. That was when a shot fired and the sound of metal hitting the wooden flooring rang out. You heard someone stumbling and then saw Damian hit the concrete floor three stories below. He didn’t move as blood pooled around him.

        You felt sick looking down at it, throwing up for just a second before shooting up at the floor knowing where they were. When you heard bodies hit the floor, you came up, swords ready with the look of fierce anger plastered on your face. That was when you stopped cold in your tracks. It wasn’t the men. Those bodies were your parents. Knees going weak, you dropped next to them before looking across the patio and seeing the three men laughing. That was when another shot rang out and you woke up in a cold sweat from your bed breathing heavily.

        The room was dark in your home and there was no bandage on your arm. You knew you were safe, it just didn’t feel like it. Within a few seconds, you found yourself reaching for your phone and calling Damian. Like in the dream it was a few seconds before he answered.

        “Beloved, are you alright?” He asked in a groggy voice.

        “Y-yeah. May I come over?”

        “Yes, what happened?”

        “It was just a bad dream.” You said heading to your car and leaving a note for your parents that you needed to go see Damian.

_______________________________________________________________________

        It was insanely late when you made it to the manor. Damian was at the door when you came and opened it without you having to answer. There wasn’t that much of an exchange, however you explained what the dream was about and then headed upstairs into his room for some sleep and the comfort which you couldn’t get alone fighting off strange nightmares.

Yooooo 😂. So I wrote this at like 5am one night and forgot about it. That’s kinda why it’s hot trash and I needed something to post today while I'm working on requesttsssss. I’ve been binging skincare by Hyram cause I had a breakout and also Chloe Ting is kicking my butt 😭 😂