#but last century he definitely sang it every time he saw him

[echo-s-land]

@unhonestlymirror I can't believe you made me go back to the Hetalia rabbit hole after years of me escaping it

Anyway, have France singing the Onion song because he remembered it out of nowhere and Austria wondering what that's supposed to mean

[mirdance]

A Walk Home

Pairing: Vampire x fem!reader

Tags: stalking, obsession, light NSFW thoughts, autumn vibes

Summary: Just a vampire who has been pining over you for many years.

Thank you to the commissioner!

In that part of town, along the winding buildings, a rustic brick road cracked and gave way to unmanicured weeds and bushes. He hadn’t noticed until recently the red of the cobblestone dulling over the years, as one tends to only think of the good ol’ days, even in the most mundane of things. The good ol’ days—a subjective opinion based on one’s past, thanks to the lens of nostalgia.

And what were the good ol’ days to you?

You, the one who could clip a plant from private property with no remorse, only remembering manners once the shopkeeper scolded you. You, who had been so enamored by the beauty of that plant that you’d momentarily forgotten all propriety.

He couldn’t remember the plant or the shop. To be fair, your succulent hands had been a terrifying temptress, tiny scrapes decorating your knuckles like glaze.

That was about eight years ago when he first saw you. To this day, he still dreamed of kissing the back of your hand and grazing his tongue against your skin.

He stopped in front of an empty shop with a dilapidated "Closed" sign hanging crookedly on the glass door. The bushes that lined the building were nothing but twigs swaying in the autumn breeze.

You’d ended up working in a nearby antique shop, constantly on the verge of shutting down, as those stores tended to do. The products weren’t even that old, but you’d tell their stories every time someone inquired about them. Not that he remembered any of the stories. After centuries of living, all stories ended up sounding similar and blurring together. However, your animated hands would sometimes gesture so wildly that you almost knocked over the products you were so passionate about, and that was worth remembering.

Red leaves blew across the cobblestone in front of your store, a natural frame for the setting orange sun above. He had just missed being able to visit the shop by five minutes.

“I’m sorry! We just closed. If there’s something specific you want to see, I don’t mind opening for ten more minutes.” Your voice rang against the chilly evening as the bells on the door sang with you locking it. 

“No need. I was just taking a stroll since the weather is cooperating. I’d hate for you to work late just because of me.”

You placed your keys in your bag, one you painted with flowers and ladybugs, and grinned politely. “Yeah, and the owner would probably scold me. Labor laws and all that. But I’d think about it for one of my favorite regulars.”

The leaves rustled beneath your feet.

To be honest, he didn’t know the last time he even thought about labor or laws or combining the two. However, he laughed along with what appeared to be a joke. “Well, we definitely wouldn’t want to break the law. I hope you haven’t been working too hard these days. You’re sounding a bit under the weather.”

You waved him off. “Not at all. Just the changing seasons and all that. I love autumn, but my body doesn’t.”

Your body. He glanced at your hands, one gently resting atop your bag. Comfortable.

“It’s getting late, and I shouldn’t keep you,” he said.

“Please don’t worry. I always enjoy our conver…” You sneezed into your arm.

He quickly stripped off his coat and wrapped it around your shoulders. “You should dress warmly during the changing seasons. It’s not good to shock your body with different temperatures.”

“I know; it was just so warm earlier I didn’t think about it getting cooler later. Thank you for this, but you’re going to need it.”

You began taking off his coat until he placed his hand on your shoulder. “Please,” he begged softly. “It would be inconsiderate of me to allow a lady to be underdressed in the cold. If you’re comfortable, I would be happy to walk you home. Otherwise, I’m sure I’ll visit the shop again this week… I would hate to intrude on your peaceful walk with my babbling.”

You grinned and shrugged into the coat. “I don’t live far. My therapist said I needed to make more friends, anyway.”

And what did a carefree creature like you need a therapist for? It wouldn’t be an appropriate question, but there would be plenty of time for the deeper reflections of life soon enough. He gestured for you to lead the way, and you began walking side by side. “Your therapist is right. It’s good that you’ve found someone who supports your emotional needs.”

You let out a breathy laugh. “I don’t know about that, but they help in some ways.”

He took a moment to listen to the way your shoes brushed against the leafy sidewalk, lighter and more haphazard than his own. “Well, if you ever need a listening ear, I’ve heard I have pretty decent skills.”

“I appreciate that. I’m okay; I just needed some coping strategies to deal with work-life balance.”

“You do indeed work a lot,” he replied. “What sort of strategies have you learned? Maybe I could benefit. I tend to overwork myself.”

A lie, of course. He wouldn’t be caught dead—or undead—overworking. There was plenty of time to get everything done, and anything that needed an immediate response simply wasn’t worth his time and effort.

You hummed an “uhm” for a moment while he edged closer, mimicking the way you stepped over the cracks in the pavement. The streetlights flickered to life as the sun gradually lowered, casting a dim glow that pulsed in time with your heartbeat. He was glad to see the sun falling. He wasn’t too terribly sun-averse, but it did make his skin itch.

“Well,” you started, “learning to manage time, setting boundaries, focusing on health, taking breaks, asking for help when you need it. I think I struggle with asking for help a lot, especially in my line of work.”

He nodded. “You do seem to be working alone quite a lot. I could see how it would be a challenge for you to ask for help. However,” he ever so gently brushed his shoulder against yours and grinned, “you decided to let me help you keep warm on the way home, so that’s a start.”

He would have to procure more ways you’d need to ask for his help.

“I...I suppose I did,” you replied, tugging the coat closer to yourself. “It smells great. What cologne do you wear?”

He wasn’t a huge fan of cologne or perfume, but he’d heard you enjoyed floral smells while listening in on a work conversation, so he became something of a connoisseur. “Birch and lavender. I can’t remember the brand, but I was drawn to the description. It described it as morning light through the swaying branches. To be honest, I’m not an early riser, so I thought perhaps I could experience morning in a different way.”

Your laughter felt thick in the gathering dusk, a sound that echoed back to him, taunting and sweet. You brought your nose to the fabric and inhaled. If he were less composed of a being, he would have either collapsed on the spot or grabbed you by the collar and inhaled your scent until he carved his teeth into your tantalizing neck. However, wine needed to be aged sur lie, and he had plenty of time to taste you.

“I’m not sure if it smells any more morning than anything else, but it smells nice,” you responded.

“Thank you. It makes me happy that you enjoy it.” And now, he thought, you would smell like him until you showered next.

As you walked, the evening air grew thicker, the shadows lengthening around you. A smile graced your lips as you held his coat close, and oh, if only it were his arms pulling you close, but indirectly would suffice.

“You know,” he said, lowering his voice above a whisper, breaking the silent air. “I was a little nervous earlier, but not so much now. I have enjoyed talking with you.”

You turned to him, delight flickering in your eyes. “Is that so? I’m glad, though I’m not too exciting of a person.”

"Excitement is subjective, isn’t it? I’ve seen a glimpse of your passion for the things you love. Do you find me boring for enjoying similar things?”

You waved your hands. “No, sorry if it seemed that way. You’re right. Everyone has different enjoyments, and I’m always glad to have you in the shop to listen to me babble.”

He chuckled. “Of course, the pleasure is mine.” He could only dream of the vibrations your neck would emit across his lips as you spoke. Getting you to talk about your passions was easy, but could he make you babble incoherently until you were singing his name?

You slowed your pace, and he matched it effortlessly, the rhythm of your steps becoming a slow dance as you neared your home. He was in no hurry to fill the silence; the sound of your feet pushing aside the leaves and the shuffling of your shoulder as it occasionally brushed against his was enough to fill his soul.

He stopped in front of your home before he remembered that he wasn’t supposed to know where you lived. Fortunately, you didn’t seem to notice. You paused in front of him, hesitancy filling your gaze as you awkwardly clutched at his coat.

“This is my stop. Thank you for walking me home. Hopefully you didn’t get too cold.”

He stepped closer, the warmth of his body radiating against the cool night air. He was suddenly very glad he’d fed the night before, as his skin would often chill between meals. He would have hated to force you to be even colder. As he leaned in, the scent of lavender and autumn leaves enveloped him. He took a shuddering breath as he gently pulled his coat from your shoulders.

“Not at all,” he stated assuredly, folding the coat over his arm. “I’m a cold-loving creature. My coat is always ready for you if you need it.” Of course, he’d be wrapping himself in it that night under the gaze of the moon and whatever god judged him from above.

“I appreciate that. You know,” you said, your voice low, “I’ve always heard the best connections are made during the night.”

He almost choked on the air as his gaze lingered longingly on your face. “I’ve heard that as well. The best connections are often made in the shadows. There’s something... intimate about the dark.”

You agreed excitedly. “Yes! Exactly. Or maybe I’m just tired. Either way, it’s just that—sometimes, the universe has a way of bringing certain people into our lives. So, thanks for always visiting me at work and brightening my day. I’m glad I had the courage to talk to you more today.”

He briefly sent an internal thank you to the universe.

“I am glad as well. We should definitely grab a bite together sometime.” If he could hold himself off before taking a bite out of you.

“For sure! Well, thanks again. Have a good night!”

And without waiting for his reply, you dashed to your door in a blur, as if running from the danger of the shadowy labyrinth that festered in his heart. He allowed himself to momentarily watch you drop your keys twice before inserting them into your door. He wanted to ensure you made it inside safely, of course, as he had done many times before, though this was the first to your knowledge.

As the glow of orange dissipated over the horizon, he brought his coat to his face and sighed. Perhaps it was time to stop day dreaming. All previous notions of having all the time in the world were dashed as he inhaled the scent of your shampoo mixed with his cologne. How much longer would he have to wait to feel your skin against his, to feel the way your skin caved against his fangs?  You would be his second death, that he was sure of.

[ibijau]

Xisang Week Day 4 : Birds / Tea

It was incredibly indulgent to have tea whenever they met, but Huaisang couldn’t resist the chance to spoil Xichen sometimes. Besides, it was just two cups every few months, and it wasn’t the expensive sort. The one he'd bought grew from decontaminated space dust under artificial light on farm vessels, and even then he’d only gotten it at such a good price because he was the one fixing their bees, now that their mechanic had gotten too old to work on such small robots anymore.

It was shitty tea, but Xichen always drank it as if it were the greatest of delicacies. Of course, compared to the usual fares of the Gusu Fleet… their philosophy was that food only needed to feed the body, no matter whether it also pleased it or not.

“How’s the Great Library doing these days?” Huaisang asked as he poured a cup of his nearly tasteless tea. “Keeping you busy, I’d guess?”

“Oh, you won’t believe it, but we’ve just hit a stroke of luck,” Xichen announced with a smile, a warm, real one that made Huaisang’s heart beat a little faster. “You remember that Wen attack that destroyed one of our ships a few years ago? We’ve finally managed to locate its remains, and we’ve hired a team of retrievers to search it.”

“Really? That’s amazing!”

“I am not expecting too much,” Xichen said, trying and failing to contain his own enthusiasm. “Most of the data it carried won’t have survived… but some might have. If we can get back even a hundredth of its content…”

Nie Huaisang grinned. He’d spent some time among the Gusu Fleet after the loss of that ship, and knew how much it had affected all of them to have lost the knowledge entrusted to them. Even if that ship mostly contained copies of libraries from still living planets, and thus nothing had been permanently lost, the very fact that anyone would attack the Great Library had been a shock. In the few centuries since it had launched, its neutrality had always been respected, no matter what other wars ravaged the Five Systems.

“And how have things been for you, A-Sang?” Xichen asked. “I’ve heard you were orbiting Mo-3 not long ago?”

“Yes, an old friend wanted to show me something,” Huaisang replied. “Another project for the pile, I fear. Although... maybe I'll try to get to that one soon.”

“Something fun?”

“I think it might be. One of Wei Ying’s old models.”

Without surprise, Xichen’s expression grew more severe. He’d seen first hand the destruction caused by Wei Ying’s inventions, which was more than Huaisang could say. His brother had protected him from that too.

“A-Sang, you should not mess with these things. You know his creations are to be reported and destroyed. If anyone heard you have one…”

“I’m not stupid enough to tell anyone,” Huaisang retorted, rolling his eyes. “Well, no one but you, and I know you don’t gossip. Besides, aside from Xue Yang, no one has ever managed to turn them on again. I’m good at my job, but there’s a big difference between maintaining artificial pollinators and repairing an android so complex it can hold an entire human mind.”

Xichen nodded, apparently reassured, and sipped some more tea with clear delight. Maybe next time, Huaisang would be able to buy some candies. His bi-annual check on the Jins’ garden ship was coming soon, he’d have the money. Sure he needed to make some big repairs to his poor Unclean Realm, and he had to buy components and basic rations to last him the year, but if he haggled a little here and there… real candies, made from real sugar, now wouldn’t that be nice? Xichen would protest that it was too much, but he’d have a few, and he’d be happy and relaxed and maybe Huaisang would finally have the courage to…

Well, that part was definitely nothing but fantasy. But the candies would be nice for sure. 

“Oh, speaking of rare things,” Xichen said. “A-Sang, I have a surprise for you.”

“For me?”

Smiling at his child-like eagerness, Xichen nodded and took from his sleeve a small white box, the sort in which the Gusu Fleet kept some of its data sticks.

“It’s a little silly perhaps,” Xichen said, his cheeks turning pink. “For all I know, you no longer care about that, but… here it is.”

Whatever was in that box would have pleased Huaisang simply because it came from Xichen. Still he cried out in surprise when he opened the container, and found a little feather inside it, all green except for a black band near the tip.

“Is it… no, it can’t be a real one,” Huaisang whispered, carefully taking it by the quill.

“It is, actually,” Xichen replied, smiling widely. “We’ve met recently with a collector who wanted to let us copy some of the rarer books he owned. He had several live birds, and one happened to lose a feather while we were there, so he gave it to me. I immediately thought of you. Do you like it?”

“Of course I do,” Huaisang said, inspecting the tiny father from every angle. He sometimes heard from a distance the birds that the Jins kept, and his brother used to tell him about the ones their own father had, back before the Unclean Realm became little more than a slowly decaying trashcan which Huaisang had to maintain alone, but he’d never actually touched a real feather. “Xichen, it’s too much, I can’t accept this. Something like that, you could sell it for a fortune!”

“I could, and it would likely be destroyed for DNA. I’d rather see it in the possession of someone who will treasure it.”

“You are too good to me. A real feather, I can’t believe… I don’t deserve a friend like you!”

That sealed it, Huaisang decided as he carefully put away the feather in its box. Next time he saw Xichen, he would buy candies. Real, proper candies, with real sugar and maybe even actual flavouring. It would hurt his finances a bit, and that meant he definitely wouldn’t have money to spend on that ‘Yiling Patriarch’ android Xuanyu had dumped on him.

That thing probably couldn’t be repaired anyway, no matter what Xuanyu said, while Xichen could definitely be spoiled as he deserved.

[jjfics]

On The Run | 01

ship: Five Hargreeves x Female!Reader 

summary: The Hargreeves have to leave the Academy behind and run away to Dallas, Texas. The Reader is a lot more anxious than Five and thats understandable, but they need to focus.

series: read part 2 here

author: jane jack aka your girl jjfics 

words: 1950

warnings: mentions of blood, death and murder, (feelings of uncertainty and anxiety, flashbacks) and lots of angssst (why do i love writing angst thoughh??)

a/n: there will definitely be a part 2 so keep those notifications in checkk

It felt as if you could read everyone else’s thoughts through the silence. The car kept moving at a fast speed as you passed cities and villages. From time to time you would worry Five was going to lose control of the car, but he never even flinched. 

He just looked at the road before you; stress and worry were clear in his eyes. There was so much he needed to figure out. Who were you going to be from now on? And him? And his siblings? Were you going to hide forever? 

“Five” you whispered. He didn’t hear you. Or maybe he did and he chose to ignore you. “Five” you said again, this time catching his attention. 

He turned to look at you for a moment and then he focused on the road again.“What?” 

“Can we stop for 5 minutes at the next gas station, please? I have to wash my hands.” you said quietly looking down. 

He pursed his lips before he spoke again. “No.” Five was just being direct. The more time it took you to get to Dallas, the more vulnerable you became. 

Dallas…

You fell through the vortex a couple of months before Five arrived. With no idea where the others went or how to find them, it was really just you, all alone. You were the last one Elliot took a picture of before the chaos of the second apocalypse began. The alley was strange, and so were the people. Everything was different here. You were disoriented and scared. According to the confused strangers when you asked them the date, you were somewhere way before your birth.

First thing you realise when you don’t even have a home anymore is that you need money. It can be so crucial. But how will you, a nobody in the 60s, survive if all you knew how to do, was sing? Music was how you met your best friend Vanya for the first time: at an audition. And after that followed the concerts. The public loved the two of you.

So you did what you did best. 

One day, while walking aimlessly on the busy streets, searching for a place selling cheap food, you started singing your favourite song. A song no one around had ever heard, a song you danced to with Five once. People started to gather around you and listen as you went on. This was it, this is where you were in your element. Your father forced you to take singing lessons when you were four. You didn’t enjoy it at first, but you grew up to love it. People clapped and left you money before going on about their day. So you ended up spending the entire day there. By nightfall you had been given enough money for the whole week. 

You were leaning on a cold brick wall and eating a sandwich when you saw someone drop a newspaper. Curiously, you grabbed it and were shocked by the headline. 

“Young woman sings in front of a bakery stealing every Texan’s heart. Who is the mysterious singer to whom many would empty their pockets for a show? 

You had been living in an apartment above The Rosemary Club, the place you worked at now. You sang almost every night and earned a lot of money and visitors for your boss, so he let you stay there. 

One night, you had a special visitor. He wasn’t there to see you specifically; he was working, just like you. Luther went everywhere his boss went, he was his bodyguard. You made eye contact a couple of times but never spoke on that evening. You couldn’t even look at him without cringing away. Not after what he did to Vanya. Five might say that she’s the bomb, but in your mind, that bomb was pretty much activated by Luther.He tried to talk to you but you avoided him as much as possible. 

“y/n! Wait, stop running away, God!” 

“What do you want, Luther?” you gave him a cold look.

“To talk to you? Isn’t that what normal people do after they haven’t seen each other for a long time?” he asks. 

“I don’t want to talk to you.” you said and ordered a drink. 

“Jesus, y/n, what's wrong with you?”

“Do I have to remind you that we’re here because of you?”

“Because of me? What do you mean, didn’t you see how Vanya literally destroyed the M-”

“Shut up. I don’t care.” you cut him off. “Have you met anyone else besides me, you stalker?”

“No.” he admitted. ”I tried searching for Allison but they haven’t found her yet.” 

“Right. Amazing. Five? No news about him either?” His expression softens. He knew about your relationship with Five, and how much you two meant for each other. 

“No, I’m really sorry. I don’t know where he is…” his voice only getting smaller when he saw the disappointment in your eyes.

You looked up from your drink and to the big man next you. “Then you can leave. I have to go get dressed.” You put your glass on the counter and left.

Your days in Dallas were easy. Life was always the same and you knew what to expect. Sometimes Luther and his boss would show up at the club and you would ignore each other. You sang, you were introduced to some people and you would make small talk with the bartender. Day after day, always missing your friends. Missing 2019. Missing Five. Your life was easy, but you were alone for the most part. You missed cuddling with Five before you went to sleep together and then waking up in his arms. You missed how he would come and pick you up after practise. How he would kiss you after every concert and tell you how proud he was of you. You missed him truly. 

The bow to the public mixed with a charismatic smile and a wave was how you always ended a good show. Walking off stage you rolled your eyes when you saw who came towards you. 

“There’s someone who would like to talk to you.” he said with a stupid smile planted on his face.

“I’m on break.” you tried to walk away. Luther grabbed your arm and spun you around so you would be facing him again. “Hey! What are you doing? Back off!”

“Believe me, y/n, you really should go talk to him” 

You eyed him suspiciously. “Well alright then.” you said sarcastically. “But keep your hands to yourself.” 

“Yeah, right, sorry.” he said and stepped to the side . “Come with me, he’s waiting outside.” he babbled before leading you to the main entrance of the club, one which neither of you used. This all seemed sketchy. If he was trying to kidnap you, I’d be no surprise. 

The air outside was cooler than usual. You crossed your arms and huffed. 

And then you saw him. Right there, alive and in front of you. He was well. He survived. 

He was still wearing his uniform, which was clean. He must've just arrived. 

You ran to him as fast your red heels allowed you to and he met you with a warm embrace. He still smelled exactly like himself. A day to him, months for you. Is this what it felt like for him when he was stuck in the future? You hugged him tight and inhaled his scent deeply trying to forget all these nights you cried, hoping he would come through the door and hug you. Hoping he would materialize in front of you like he did for his father’s funeral.

The man still looked young, but you knew damn well who he was. He wasn’t someone you’d forget that easily. Finally, he was here, with you. 

He pulled away and it almost pained you. It was crazy, of course, to think that after all this time you’d lose him again, but even as much as moving an inch scared you now that he was right here. 

“y/n.”

“Five”

Your lips melted together in the most awaited kiss of the century. Of all time maybe. His hands glued themselves to your waist again and you saw him perfectly in the dim light of the alley.

Your eyes were empty. You wanted to wipe your hands but the blood on them had dried already. 

“Five, please I need to wash my hands. I need to- I- I have to wash it all away- Please” 

He hated that he had to hear you beg and yet he couldn't stop. It’s for her own safety, it’s for our safety, he would think. 

“y/n we can’t stop now. Even 5 minutes could mean our deaths right now. Please understand” 

And you wanted to understand. You wanted to stay calm just like the rest, but they were trained. They’ve done such things before. You however, didn’t. Everytime you looked at your lap you saw her again. Laying there, lifeless. You saw the knife as it fell from your hands, making an awful sound when it hit the floor. Maybe if you’d wash them, the flashbacks would stop. 

“Please, I can’t. I can’t do it. I can’t be like this. This is not- It’s not-” 

Your breath was uncontrolled. Everytime you closed your eyes, you saw her again. Everytime you would inhale, she would exhale for the last time, again, and again, and again. You were fully sobbing now. 

Vanya’s hand softly touched your shoulder from the back seat and you flinched. “Shh, it’s just me” she cooed “It’s just me” 

You tried to relax a bit and then spoke again, hoping to get it right this time.

“I’m a bad person, Five. I just killed an innocent woman and… and I have her blood all over my hands.” you looked at him to find he was already looking at you. Guilt and regret were visible on his face. “I’m a killer, Five.” you wept. 

He reached your cheek with one hand and wiped your tears away. “She wasn’t innocent” he stated. “She’s killed many people.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m any less of a killer” 

“Well, then. I’m a killer too. More or less than my siblings here. So we are all on the same team.” he spoke calmly, as if the Hargreeves discussed murder at the dinner table every evening. Thinking about it twice there’s a big chance they did, when the old man was still alive at least.

“But you killed to survive, Five. You had to. I didn’t but she’s dead now.”

He huffed in annoyance. She’s not used to this. Take it slowly, he thought.

“You had to, too, y/n. It was self defence. If it wasn’t her then… well then let’s not think about it” he finished. Then I would be the one dead, you added, but only in your head because you knew how much he hated thinking about anything bad happening to you. He wanted you safe. You wanted him safe.

“Okay then. But as soon as we’re in Dallas we’ll stop and get new clothes.” you started to come back to your senses again. Right. You need to get to the city and find a way to trick the Commision. Or maybe you needed to hide. Or just freshen up and get on the road again. You didn’t know exactly what you were going to do, but if anyone found the map Diego was holding in his lap right now, they’d know exactly what your first stop was going to be. The Rosemary Club.

[hajimeiwaswife]

STRINGS

Word count: 4,1K

Warnings: major character death, little angst

Summary: two lovers reunited by the power of music.

"Traveller! Be careful!" Xiao shouted, reaching to Aether in time to safe him from being knocked by a giant rock that fell out of the mountain.

"Thank you, Xiao." the boy said, out of breath, before resuming the fight against their enemies, the ones that had taken his sister away from him.

Xiao recognised easily the odour of blood, having spilled so much by himself in his past. If it had been any other time, he would have fought harshly and precisely, but now that he had finally found happiness, he didn't want to die. Or worst, his significant other to die.

Years took upon the Adeptus to finally open up to the Anemo Archon, who didn't give up on him ever since they met. Barbatos, or Venti, as he liked to go by, had been by his side trying for the Adeptus to comprehend human emotions, feelings that he already had inside of him. He had been so patient with him, so caring, that now Xiao finally understood what it was to be loved. But what if this battle took it away from him? He was terrified.

The sound of explosions surrounded the landscape, lifeless corpses on the ground above pools of scarlet liquid decorating the grass. The touch of Death wrapping those who sighed their last breath, too many to be count. The Adeptus was heading into battle again when he felt someone grab his shoulder, the gentle hands of his lover.

"Not there," Venti stated, taking Xiao's hand in his, "you're needed in this other area. The Millelith are having trouble."

He took his orders, not without giving him a nod to indicate respect and, in Xiao's language, a 'take care'. Venti, however, took the Adeptus' nape and kissed him briefly before running away, laughing mischievously. Poor Xiao, flustered as ever, followed the way he had been indicated and started fighting in all his might again, powerful lance in hand.

Hours of battle passed, more dead around the survivors to assimilate. The Adeptus was tired and in need of checking on his loved ones, but he continued to fulfil his duty, he understood that if he was exhausted, humans would be in their limit. Nonetheless, after everything went quiet, he breathed as if he had been deprived of oxygen for centuries.

The silence was appalling, announcing the misfortunes and desperation that waited for those who were still alive. Xiao took a look around, sighting Aether with Paimon, Zhongli, Kaeya, Diluc, Jean and some of the Knights of Favonious. He also saw some of his fellow Adepti and the Qixing. But he couldn't find Venti, the Anemo Archon was nowhere to be seen nor to be heard.

A bad feeling sunk in the bottom of his stomach, with shaking legs he started walking along the path of corpses, wishing to be mistaken and to not find his lover laying within them. When he saw no green in the clothes of the dead, he felt relieved, knowing that the Archon was somewhere else, until he saw the blue braids he loved so much.

His heart dropped while he approached the corpse, green clothes now red from blood, characteristic hat lost somewhere in the valley, aquamarine eyes, once full of life, now looked at the sky without emotion, lifeless, no soul behind them. The Adeptus' knees gave up and fell next to his lover's body. He was speechless, in shock, completely gone from reality as his brain tried to understand what was going on in front of him. 'Please, let it be another nightmare.'

With tremble hands, Xiao took Venti's body in a cold hug, the Archon's head on the Adeptus' chest that rumbled in a hurt scream, shouting to the skies and letting them know he had had enough, he had lost the person he loved the most. Swaying them both from side to side, Xiao cried, caressing Barbatos' hair. "I love you, please, don't leave me." Xiao begged, heartbroken. "I know I never told you, but I think- no, I am in love with you. At last, I understand my feelings. Please, Venti, don't go."

Aether came next to Xiao, pitying his friend's sobs that didn't stop. He also felt sad by Venti's loss, he considered the Archon his friend, and he was going to cry and mourn his death. Along with him, the survivors of Mondstadt as a whole kneed in front of the dead Archon and the Adeptus, bidding their goodbyes to Barbatos, the Archon of the City of Freedom.

2000 years later, in another dimension...

Xiao was late, he had overslept and had lost the train to the Conservatory, again. He had spent the night studying Harmony II and lost track of time. What was sleep for a student, though? 'Never heard of it.'

Running across the street, trying not to lose his piano sheets, he finally got to the bus station, the only transport apart from the train that could get him to his destination. It was to its fullest, so he would have to be standing, not very practical to study. He eyes followed the Chopin Nocturne nº20, thinking the rubatos in his mind and trying to memorize the digits in the final scales. He sighed, if he hadn't had spent so much time studying the Harmony rules in the Gregorian Era, he would have had enough time to practice piano. But organization wasn't his best attribute.

He trusted his ability reading at first sight and closed the folder, looking out the window. It was a good day, the sun was shining and lighting the path of those who walked in their way to their jobs, schools, universities or even who were just strolling. The few trees the city had were full of green leaves that were swaying to the sound of the pre summer breeze, warning people of the incoming heat wave. Xiao wished to finish the year as soon as possible so he could go to the beach and stroll and listen to music with the dancing waves of the ocean.

The rest of the morning went without incident, his inner talent allowing him to feign having study and his teacher praising his musicality. Xiao was a sensitive person, he felt too deep, different from what everyone who knew him thought of him because of his rough facade. His musicality and deep feelings were what made him an expert in Chopin, being the best in his region to play the musical pieces of the Polish composer.

He exited the place and walked to the train station thinking about his incoming exams, music was definitely one of the tougher and more beautiful things he had ever experimented. At the same time, he started listening a guitar melody and a sweet voice accompanying it; Xiao looked to the source of the sound and saw a boy his age playing an acoustic guitar and singing inside the train station. He had dyed dark blue hair, nearly black, that degraded into a light blue the nearer it came closer to his hair tips. He had enough hair to pull it into a bun, giving him a carefree look that matched his crop trousers, white t-shirt and denim jacket. But when they both made eye contact, Xiao swore to had seen those eyes before, gentle aquamarine gaze looking back at him.

The pianist stood there for a few minutes, listening and admiring the singer, but he had to go if he didn't want to lose the train. He just hoped he would see the singer again, captivated by his songs and, especially, his eyes.

Indeed, he saw the man every day since at that same spot, at the same hour, different songs. Xiao envied him, he also wanted to compose, but was too focused learning classical pieces to invest more time in composing his own ones, but he was positive one day he would.

It continued like that for a month; the man would be there, playing and singing while Xiao stood there for some minutes listening to him. He was so familiar and strange at the same time that Xiao had no choice but be intrigued by him. Until one day, the man wasn't there.

"What?" Xiao looked around, but the dark blue haired man wasn't in his usual spot nor in any nearby.

For a week, the singer didn't appear and Xiao started to think he would not see him again. Much to his disdain, he felt sad; he always waited for the time of the day where he would see and hear the man, it was like a ritual for him. Now, all of a sudden, it was gone.

Walking out of the train, distracted looking for the man, he didn't notice his folder opening and the piano sheets getting lost among the people.

"Hey!" he heard behind him. Even if he had never heard him talk, he knew it was him, his voice sounded as sweet as when he sang. He turned around and saw the singer behind him, shaking some papers in his hands, "I think these are yours!"

Xiao took at what the singer had in his hand. He was still rather shocked by finding him again after so long, but he paid attention to the papers to recognise them as his piano sheets, the ones he needed for his exam tomorrow.

"Thank you," he said nonchalantly, taking them from the other musician.

Their hands touched for an instant, a short among of time for any other mortal, but enough for them to feel a tingle inside their chests. Xiao took the sheets quickly and put some distance between them both. He didn't know what that feeling was and he definitely didn't want to discover it.

"You're welcome!" answered the man, smiling brightly after falling silent for a few seconds after the incident, "I see you play the piano, are you majoring in music?"

"Yes," replied the pianist, looking at everywhere but the man in front of him.

"That's so cool! I would have loved to learn music officially, but I had to conformed with learning by myself."

"I see."

"Hehe! I always saw you pass while I was playing, it's cool to know that I had a fellow musician listening to me!"

"Hmm, you're not that bad."

"Why, thank you."

The singer felt how closed up the pianist was, so he took it as a compliment, comprehending that maybe he wasn't really used to interacting with people. Meanwhile, Xiao was panicking. He had been looking for the man for weeks and now he couldn't even talk properly.

"What's your name?"

"My name?"

"Yes!" the singer waited for the other man to reply, patiently.

"...Xiao," said the pianist after considering telling him or not, "and yours?"

"I'm Venti, nice to meet you!"

Again, them both felt like those names were too familiar, a similar sensation like the one before arose in their stomachs. Venti smiled, something that Xiao noticed to be frequent, as in the two minutes they had been interacting he hadn't stopped smiling.

"Well, I hope I see you around! Maybe one day we can play together."

"I guess so, yes."

With a parting nod, Xiao turned around and went to his daily classes, not without thinking about their encounter. Something felt odd in the deep of the situation, he just couldn't think of what it was. Feeling like you know someone without having actually met wasn't something that happened at Xiao's life.

Returning from the Conservatory that afternoon, he first heard the guitar and voice, and then saw Venti playing at the train station. 'So, he's back, definitely'. He passed by him, Venti's eyes on Xiao already, giving each other a smile from the singer's part and a nod from Xiao's, and then parting.

The following weeks followed the same dynamic. Sometimes, Venti ventured to talk to Xiao, small talk, enough to get the pianist to open to him. He learned that Xiao was majoring in music specializing in piano, that he had his final exams in June and that he had a cat. The singer felt happy to have collected so much information for someone who rarely opened up.

"I was thinking that maybe we should play together," Venti said, one afternoon after Xiao returned from his classes. They had decided to have a coffee every Thursday to catch up and so they could have more normal conversations and not rushed ones at the station. Or, better said, Venti offered and Xiao just followed.

"I don't play your type of music."

"Ah?" said the singer, confused, "What do you mean with 'my type of music'?"

"Well, I'm specializing in classical music." Xiao shrugged his shoulders, returning to his almond and chocolate muffin.

"Well, yes, but that doesn't mean you can't play other styles."

Xiao continued eating, listening to Venti rumble about pop, rock and R&B. The pianist knew which styles they were, their characteristics and the most popular singers for each style, but something in the way Venti talked made him want to listen nonstop. The young singer was passionate about what he did, just as Xiao was about his profession.

"So? What do you say?"

"I don't know," Xiao started, biting his lip, "I don't think I would be good on it."

"If you can play Chopin and Mozart, you can play four chords on repeat."

Like that, Venti took Xiao to the little studio he had with Aether, his producer. Both musicians were really young, but had already launched a couple EPs. Xiao was amazed by the studio, there was a little keyboard, an acoustic guitar, an electric guitar and then the recording studio and the production table.

"Do you like it?"

Xiao just nodded, directing himself to the keyboard and switching it on. The keys were less harsh than a piano's keys, but he was sure he could manage to play on it. The sound was more electric, just what he expected.

Venti, on his part, was following Xiao's movements, happy to see him interested in what he could offer. He had been feeling dizzy in the pianist's presence for quite some time now, and he was sure he was falling for him. He was determined to show him how he felt and to open Xiao's mind.

"You can come here whenever you want, I would love to play with you," Venti said, smiling brightly when Xiao sat on the bench and placed his hand on the keys, "Can you play something for me?"

The pianist thought for some seconds, deciding on what he could gift Venti's ears with, and decided to play Fantasia in D minor by Mozart. A beautiful and complete piece by his favourite composer, he enjoyed so much playing him that got lost in the moment. The most difficult thing was to keep balance between the left and the right in the sense of sound, but for the rest Xiao had everything so clear that the melodies kept falling out of the keyboard.

After nearly ten minutes, hi finished. Venti was shocked by the way the man played, emotional and emotionless at the same time, a technique enviable. If he could do that in a keyboard, what could he do in a piano? What could he do in a harpsichord to keep up with the real instrument Mozart used?

"Sorry for the quality, a keyboard doesn't make justice to the piece." Xiao said, timidly, standing up from the bench.

"Nonsense," started the singer, still moved by the little performance, "it was incredible. You're such a good pianist!"

"I'm just mediocre." mumbled the man, blushing furiously.

"No mediocre pianist can do what you had just presented, Xiao."

They looked at each other on silence for a moment, Xiao noticing his heart rushing again. Something about Venti made him feel dizzy in a good way, it scared him, but also desired to know why he felt so attracted to the singer. Venti was just admiring Xiao's features, skin kissed by the moon, eyes deep as gold wells, rough expression that was becoming in a vulnerable one. He reminded him of a cat, wanting to make it look as he was independent and surly, but that actually was a sweetheart who needed love and care as any other human being.

'Maybe he'll let me love him in a near future.' thought the singer, gazing at a distracted Xiao, who was touching the acoustic guitar.

They decided to try and play something together, improvising in the moment and giving each other inspiration to think of better ways of following the music. Xiao had to admit to himself that it was fun and that it sounded good. He never thought he would be able to improvise to pop music, but there he was, following a guitarist and singer man.

Venti opened his mouth and started singing an, of course, improvised melody. Xiao nearly stopped playing, too distracted with the sweet and hypnotizing voice of the other man. Every time he heard him sing a memory came to his mind, one of that same voice singing just for him. Memory? No, it couldn't be. It felt like a dream, a very far away dream he had when he was a kid.

Venti, on his part, had the same memory whenever Xiao appeared when he was singing. He saw a lyre, green clothes and tattoos, golden eyes that returned his caring gaze; he also heard his own voice. What it was he didn't know, but that it had a meaning, he was sure.

The following days, after a hard time convincing Xiao, the both of them started composing a song. The chords were not the usual for the 21st Century chords, they reminded of an old Era, one forgotten by the human kind, one that only the two of them understood. The melody was melancholic, similar to a letter to a loved one you lost. The lyrics were heart-breaking, Venti provided a cruel perspective of love, requited love that did not fulfil the dream of both lovers of becoming true for centuries of being apart.

Xiao was in love with their creation, wanting to play more and more, getting lost in the music that Venti gifted him with. He didn't care about the heartache he felt whenever Venti called him 'friend', he didn't care about the goose bumps every time the singer touched his hand, he didn't care about the overwhelming desire to kiss him when he smiled. He only cared for giving him the best piano version he could offer.

"Crimson red blinded my vision, there and then you took the decision," sang Venti, fingers moving within the strings of his guitar, "'I'll see you again', you said, 'when the sun goes down and I don't feel regret."

Xiao played, keys sounding too much for his liking, he really disliked the keyboard, but it was his only way of playing with Venti. He had considered inviting him to his house, but the acoustic wouldn't have been that good.

"Arrows flied, swords were wielded, but your kiss was enough to put me out of war. Let me tell you, everything but you was a blur."

The pianist couldn't take it anymore, the lyrics had been giving him a headache ever since Venti wrote them. He loved them and hated them at the same time, it was like they were mocking him, remembering him of something he lost, but he couldn't remember what it was.

He stood up from the piano, storming out of the room and living Venti confused. The singer knew how Xiao could be, but that didn't make him feel less worried. He had never left a rehearsal, always playing his best and taking part actively in the decisions taken for the song. What could have trigger him so much to make him exit the room?

"Hey!" Venti called out, stopping Xiao from going out the studio, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." replied the pianist, tone piercing.

"Don't even try that with me," said the singer, annoyed, "we're passed the state of putting a facade."

"Really, it's no―"

Venti didn't know what crossed his mind. He was so angry, frustrated, annoyed and disappointed in Xiao not trusting him after so much effort to get to him that he kissed him out of desperation.

The pianist couldn't move, not understanding why he had a pair of lips on his, but liking the feeling of the kiss. Hesitant, he placed one of his hands on Venti's waist and the other on his left cheek and corresponded the kiss.

Hearts content and reunited, jumping in euphoria; souls greeting each other after being apart for so long; bodies finding like you find an old item you forgot you had but that you deeply cared for. They separated, a thread of saliva connecting the two of them.

"W-what?"

"Come with me, my lovely adeptus."

"Adeptus? What's that?" asked Xiao, confused, still grabbing Venti's waist.

"I-I don't know, it just felt... right? To say." replied an equally confused singer.

Venti dismissed the topic fast, carrying Xiao with him to the studio's couch. He made the pianist lay on it while he topped him, kissing him again and again, taking away his shirt after checking for his consent.

The windows tarnished because of the heat, moans of pleasure could be heard as they both took care of the other in a loving way, caressing, kissing, biting their bodies. When Venti entered Xiao after preparing him, they both saw the stars. Love noises filled the empty and soundproof room, fastened breaths demonstrating the effort of being in love, orgasmic euphoria filling the empty space on their chest, gifting them the chance of reuniting something that didn't consummate on the past.

No amount of time could break the bond they created at that moment mixed with the one they forged two thousand years prior. Post orgasmic music running between them as they recovered from the love-making session.

Venti got up, searching for towels on the little bathroom of the studio to clean both of them, trying to extend the blissful moment before they had to talk about it, focusing on the aftercare.

"Thank you." whispered a tired Xiao after getting cleaned up and being helped to put his clothes on.

"It's nothing," said Venti, shy for the first time the both of them had met, something that didn't passed Xiao's observant skills.

"Do you... regret this?"

"No!" exclaimed Venti after noticing the insecurity on the pianist's voice, "No, of course no. I was just, you know, wondering if..."

"If?"

"Wondering what this leads us to."

Xiao thought for some seconds, he knew he liked Venti, it would explain his body reactions whenever he was near him, and he understood what had just happened as Venti returning his feelings. For what he had read on books, that meant they were dating, but he could be wrong.

"I guess I'm your boyfriend," he mumbled, gazing at the floor.

"B-boyfriend!?" asked Venti, surprised of the statement the other man made.

"Isn't that the term for the person you are dating?"

"Uh... yes, but you hadn't asked me to be your boyfriend..." Venti was amused and shocked with Xiao's bold attitude, but he blamed it to the pianist's lack of experience.

"Oh, then, would you be my boyfriend?"

"But don't make it so... cold!" Venti face palmed, laughing at the situation they had at hand. He had to say, though, Xiao's ignorance on the topic was adorable, his heart was melting at the man's confused gaze.

"Then how?"

"Forget it, yes, I'll be your boyfriend." Venti replied, still laughing.

"Okay, good," said Xiao, nodding and processing the information. "now what?"

"Now we continue with the song, that we have to finish recording it."

Venti stood up from the couch, giving Xiao a small peck and 'hehe'-ing after. He positioned himself on the guitar again, shaking a little at the amount of emotion running through his veins. The pianist was still on sitting, watching Venti's every move the same way he looked at his piano. The singer was touched by the sincere look on Xiao's eyes, meaning he did feel the same.

"C'mon, little Adeptus, go play the piano half as good as you played my body."

The blush on the other's man face was imminent, causing Venti to find his new favourite thing: teasing the music student.

Music had reunited the lovers that war separated once, being the conductor channel of an Archon and an Adeptus to find their way back to the other's arms. Their past kept a mystery from them both, but their souls did remember each other, hugging and causing the two men to love as much as they once did. A bright future waited for the two talented musicians now that nothing could separate them again.

The air was pure and clear again.

[baoshan-sanren]

Chapter 34

of the wwx emperor au I’m thinking of calling -- you know what? I suck at titles. let’s just accept the fact that I’ll slap something vaguely poetic on this thing when it’s finished, and that it will probably have no relation to the actual fic

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 Part 1 | Chapter 8 Part 2 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 Part 1 | Chapter 15 Part 2 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 Part 1 | Chapter 22 Part 2 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 | Chapter 26 | Chapter 27 | Chapter 28 | Chapter 29 | Chapter 30 | Chapter 31 | Chapter 32 | Chapter 33

About half-way to the Imperial guest chambers, it occurs to Wei Ying that he cannot simply knock on Lan Zhan’s door past midnight. 

Lan Zhan had asked him to use the door, and Wei Ying wants to use the door, but he cannot. It takes a few moments for his pleasantly drunk mind to reconcile itself with the whole not using the door thing. But he still wants to see Lan Zhan. He wants to see Lan Zhan pretty badly. He wants to apologize for being stupid, although, at this very moment, he is not exactly sure what he had been stupid about. Probably a lot of things.

He sighs.

He also needs to apologize for failing to protect Lan QiRen. Lan Zhan had clearly told him that he does not want his brother or his uncle being hurt. Wei Ying had sworn to protect them both to the best of his ability. It does not matter that Nie HuaiSang had made the decision to decrease Lan QiRen’s guard. Wei Ying had promised. Protecting Lan Qiren had been his responsibility.

The horror he had felt, when he saw the Peach Blossom Pavilion on fire, cannot be described. If Lan QiRen had been killed, after Wei Ying had sworn to protect him-- he does not think that Lan Zhan would have ever forgiven him.

Still standing, stupidly, in the middle of the hall leading to the Imperial guest chambers, Wei Ying thinks perhaps his mind is not in the best place at the moment. He should wait and speak to Lan Zhan in the morning. He should not be stumbling drunk around the Iron Palm Palace, as if looking for Madam Yu to corner him.

But he wants to see Lan Zhan.

He remembers the absolute fury with which Lan Zhan had turned on A-Sang, the wild look in his eyes, the white robes flaring in an arc, blade flashing. Against the backdrop of the fire, he had looked coldly savage; an ancient immortal, an avenging deity too terrible to be gazed upon by ordinary humans.  

In that moment, Wei Ying had been certain that Lan Zhan would not hesitate; that he would not let himself be restrained with such a simple gesture as his brother’s hand on his wrist. A-Sang would meet his end in that courtyard, and Lan Zhan would not stop there, but go on to carve a bloody path through every person in his sight, Wei Ying included.

The Peach Blossom Pavilion, its fragile old wood and intricately carved posts, dusty and forgotten, had stood for over a century, the Immortal Mountain City growing and spreading around its delicate shell. A legacy, left behind by the Immortal Empress, an arrogant girl who had thought herself so powerful that she had tried to rule over the cycle of life and death, nearly extinguishing the flame needed to form the Empire.

Her peach trees cannot be moved, altered, or destroyed. They are a lesson Wei Ying had been taught long before he understood what it meant.

But there is a much more subtle lesson in the Pavilion itself, a building even YanLing DaoRen could not bring himself to touch; the brittleness of family, home, comfort. How even the meanest creature will take time to burrow a hole in the dirt, then protect it with its last breath. The Immortal Empress had burrowed a hole next to her peach tree, then nearly given up her life to keep it intact.

Watching the Peach Blossom Pavilion be consumed by flames, used as a death trap for an honorable, righteous man, Wei Ying could not help but think that, if Lan Zhan had truly decided to kill them all, he would have been hard pressed to explain why they did not deserved it.

He leans against the hall arch, the stone cool and soothing against his skin. His mind is definitely not in the best place. But he still wants to see Lan Zhan.

Instead of heading towards the Imperial guest chambers, he turns to the door leading into his public study, a room he actively tries to avoid unless pressing business requires his presence. It is a bleak, cavernous space, where guilty men, often three times his age, would kneel on the marble floors, begging for their lives. He had not executed men often, even when they were indisputably guilty, but the few times he had were enough to make the space unbearable forever after.

There is one aspect of the study that Wei Ying does not hate, however, and it is the window hole leading out to the lower rooftop of the receiving hall. In the daylight, this particular portion of the roof is clearly visible from the entirety of the Iron Palm Palace courtyard. But during the night, it is a perfect starting point, no matter which part of the City he means to access. Some day, someone will realize that Wei Ying uses the tops of the courtyard walls as bridges to all of the surrounding palaces. The wall tops will be deemed a security breach, one that uncle Jiang will remedy without asking for his opinion, or his permission. But that day is not today, and Wei Ying has no intention of using the walls anyway.

The receiving hall roof curves to the east and west, winding around the palace, and Wei Ying counts window holes carefully, never having accessed the Imperial guest chambers in this manner before. It would just be his luck to drop into Lan XiChen’s chambers in error, or even worse, Lan QiRen’s.

He should not have worried. Long before he can be certain that he has counted correctly, he sees the flash of the white robes.

Lan Zhan had crawled out his window as well, and is sitting on the cold rooftop tile, the snow-white sleep robe pooling around him.

His hair is loose, a dark cape laid over the bright robe, and Wei Ying thinks he looks ethereal still, beautiful and aloof, not meant to be observed by lowly human beings.

Preoccupied by Lan Zhan, Wei Ying forgets that he is, in fact, more than a little drunk, and that he had forgotten to take his shoes off. The soles, not meant to grip the slick tiles, slide without a warning. He flails, nearly loosing his footing altogether.

By the time he has regained his balance, an act that was probably ridiculous to watch, Lan Zhan has noticed him and gotten to his feet. Wei Ying feels stupid, however, this has never stopped him before, so he crosses the last stretch of the roof anyway, but carefully now, minding his footing.

“Lan Zhan,” he says softly.

Lan Zhan studies him for a few moments, then lowers himself back down. Wei Ying takes this as a permission, and ungracefully sits next to him.

Something about the coolness of the night seems to magnify the scent of the sandalwood; it wraps around Wei Ying, smooth and warm, cutting through the chill of the north-western winds. He had come to apologize, but the right words seem to have abandoned him for the moment. Lan Zhan is perfectly still, a cold statue glowing brightly in the darkness. Wei Ying’s drunk tongue, unable to to properly ask for forgiveness, has nonetheless found a thousand poems at its disposal, each one attempting to give justice to Lan Zhan’s beauty, and each one falling short of the mark.

He does not regret coming to find Lan Zhan, but he does regret doing so with his mind less than perfectly clear.

Perhaps some other youth on some other rooftop can speak of marriage lightly, carelessly drunk on wine and beauty of the person beside them, knowing that the life they promise to share will be the one of comfort and safety. But the last few hours have made some truths starkly clear; Wei Ying has nothing to offer that does not come with its share of danger and grief. And Lan Zhan is no Nie HuaiSang, to find pleasure in the vicious court games, to smile politely while cutting with his words, to accept gifts with one hand while hiding a knife in the sleeve of the other.  

He remembers Lan QiRen’s admonishment clearly, and wonders, for the first time, if Lan Zhan could ever be happy, married to Wei Ying.

The silence has now stretched so long, that anything said out loud may carry more than one meaning. Lan Zhan does not look as if he intends to speak at all. Coldly beautiful he may be, but at this moment he is also oddly peaceful, his breaths deep and even, his eyes half-lidded, studying some mystical point in the distance that Wei Ying cannot see.

Silence has always been Wei Ying’s enemy.

It is Jiang Cheng’s anger, grown too vast for words. It is Nie HuaiSang’s hurt, caused by his carelessness. It is uncle Jiang’s disappointment, shijie’s grief, Wen Qing’s disapproval. Things unspoken have always wounded Wei Ying in a way that no spoken word ever has.

Because long before he had learned their silences, and all the ways in which they brought him pain, there had been the silence of the Six Fans Pavilion, never again graced with his father’s footsteps. The silence of his mother’s chambers, never again to echo her laughter.

Silence had always meant loss.

But now, sitting next to Lan Zhan, wrapped in hushed tranquility, he wonders if one person can change the nature of silence forever. If one person can have such power, to transform this thing he had always dreaded to something bearable and peaceful, something in which he may find contentment.

As if hearing his thoughts, Lan Zhan shifts, a smooth, soundless movement that brings him ever so slightly closer. In the next moment, Wei Ying feels a brush of cool skin against his hand. A finger hooks around his own, and this time, it does not tremble.

[abluescarfonwaston]

Did someone ask for a quick and angsty immortal jaskier prompt? "It was supposed to be the music," he whispered, voice breaking. Heart breaking. "The songs. I wanted my songs to be remembered forever. I never wanted this."

Why would you do this to me anon. i’m already crying over the fact dandelion outlives everyone he loves. Major Character Death Warning. Obviously. Literally everyone dies. Uuuh also this kinda turns into Lambert/Jaskier at the end but like. They’re both Centuries old so nothing Happens.

When the wasting sickness swept through Lettenhove it killed his Mother and his Father and his Sisters and left him untouched. 

He was ten and the world was over. Except he kept waking up in the morning.

At thirteen a girl at Oxenfurt, Essi Daven, played her Lute in the commons and sang and had the most beautiful cornflower blue eyes. And for the first time in years he sang a duet with her and suddenly he was a bard and he had a little sister again. 

Maybe the world hadn’t ended. Maybe it finally restart.

At seventeen he met a man with white hair and seemly as many scars on his body as his heart and fell in love. Because Bards fell in love easily and he was impossibly easy to love.

The witcher plead for his life. Plead for them to let the bard go.

“No. Both of us or neither.” He was done outliving those he loved. At seventeen he was already done with that. “You kill him and let me go and i’ll destroy your mountain. Kill every last one of you in revenge.”

He’d leave behind a song. The one he’d written as a child and had swept the town more devastating than even the scarlet fever had been. It would live on past him. He would be remembered. The people he loved would be too. Toss a coin to your Witcher. The people he loved immortalized in song.

It wasn’t supposed to make him immortal.

“Give it a rest Jaskier.” Danity snapped. “It’s not you that has to be afraid of anything. No one ever touches a troubadour. For unfathomable reasons you’re inviolable.”

He’d still feared then. Chappelle could have had him killed. He was pretty sure he could die. Mostly he feared the pain. Or dying alone.

“When an old woman gets tired of life she walks into the woods without a weapon. The results are guaranteed.” He’d told Geralt when he’d moaned about how the world was changing and -more importantly- that he had no work.

Remember how I don’t even carry a knife when I follow you out on an adventure? No weapons at all. Ever. Just me and my lute.

He’d brushed death. A thousand times he’d almost met her. He followed Geralt- who was prophesied to always have death follow after him. You’d think at some point they’d meet.

Essi and Geralt fell in love on the coast. He wrote a ballad for them. About how their love was so powerful not even death could come between them.

He never played it. Not to anyone. He didn’t think it was actually about Essi and Geralt.

When rash appeared on Essi’s face in Vizima during the quarantine his hands shook.

“Not her.” He’d screamed at the gods. They didn’t exist of course. If they had then they’d abandoned them all long ago. “Not her.”

“Jaskier?” She shivered violently. “I don’t want to be burned.”

“You won’t be. You’re going to be fine.” He promised. Clutching her hand. “Promise Poppet. You’re going to be fine.”

The cremation fires blazed outside.

“I want to be buried in the woods. With my lute and-” She hurled mostly into the bucket. “My necklace. Please Jaskier.”

“Course Poppet. When you’re old and grey I will bury you out in the forest.”

“Thank you.” She clutched the little pearl. “For giving me him. I love him.”

“I never saw him happier than when he was with you Poppet.”

“What about when he was with you?”

“Oh come now.” He shifted her in his arms and moved the bucket a little further away. “You know me. I’m insufferable.”

“I love you Jaskier.” She cried as she shivered with less and less energy.

“I love you too Poppet.”

He carried her from the city. Into the forest. Her heart stopped beating before they arrived. He dug her grave and buried her with her lute and her pearl necklace.

With the pearl he’d given to her as a birthday gift. From him and Geralt.

When Regis passed it felt absurd. Humans weren’t supposed to outlive goddamn vampires in their fifth fucking century.

And then there was Geralt. Died in Yennefer’s arms along with her.

“It was supposed to be me.” He told no one as Ciri led their bodies out to the lake. “I was supposed to die with him.” Love so great not even death can part us.

But the story was never really about him was it?

Nenneke had a garden full of plants that grew under a crystal skylight. They didn’t grow anywhere else in the world anymore.

He’d asked Geralt about it. She’d said something about the sun and how it was changing. Apparently Geralt had asked why they all didn’t live under crystal skylights then, if it was so deadly.

“It’s already too late for us.” She’d said.

She talked liked the world was ending but the world ended all the time. And he still woke up in the morning.

Zoltan’s beard turned grey. He supposed he should have been thankful that Zoltan got to turn grey. It was better than most of the people he’d loved.

“How’s your fucking hair still Gold. You’re supposed to be getting old too!”

“I dye it.” He lied with a roll of the eyes. He’d stopped dying it years ago.

That winter he buried Zoltan too.

Golden eyes stared at him in confusion. “You look just like.” He started. His thin hair was grey. His wolf medallion gleamed in the sunlight that streaked into the bar.

“You’re one of the last Witchers i think.” He told him as the waves crashed outside. “Might even be the last.”

“Fucking hope so.” He sat down across from him and stole his beer. “Shitty job and a shitty life.” He squinted at him- which Jaskier knew was entirely unnecessary. He just forgotten to adjust his eyes. “What’s your name bard?”

“Dandelion.” He answered. It had been for the last century. “Yours?”

“Lambert.” He downed the drink. “You really think i’m the last? That worth a song? One of my brothers had a lot of songs.”

“Yes I suppose he did.” He waved for another drink. “And look what it got him.”

“Died surrounded by people who loved him.”

“Are you sure you know what a pogrom is?”

That got him a sharp toothy grin.

“I could write you a song but-” He was tired of burying people he loved.

“But?”

“I’m cursed you see.” It was definitely a curse these days. “I’ll live until the last of my songs is forgotten. I really don’t need anymore material.”

Lambert leaned forward curiously. “Doesn’t sound like a curse.”

“You don’t think it sounds like a curse?” He sneered. Lambert’s face faltered. “To outlive everyone you love?”

Lambert paused. Thinking. “Write me a song then. Play it just for me. So if my song’s the last we’ll go together.”

“And what’s my payment for this song?”

“Company.” Lambert’s grey eyes glittered. “You look like you need it.”

“Not as much as you. I bet you talk to your horse.”

“Well i know you do pretty boy. Heard you in the stable.”

He leaned back on the bench. “So what’s a Witcher do in a world without monsters?”

He shrugged. “Fish mostly.��

“I can do that. Once almost snagged a catfish the size of you. Got a djinn instead. Very bad deal honestly.”

“You expect me to believe that? I know about Bards and Ballads and how you’re all rotten liars.”

“Don’t forget about fisherman and their tales.”

The boat leaked worse than an old drunkard but it was small enough and the lake calm enough that it didn’t make him sick.

“I could just kill you. Curse probably can’t fix decapitation.” Lambert offered with his stick in the water. He claimed were bombs they could use instead if they got desperate. Or bored.

He smiled and shook his head. “Give it a try.”

Lambert raised an eyebrow but pulled a silver blade from it’s sheath.

His pole reeled and the boat tilted to the side, plunging him and the sword into the water.

He laughed as the attempted to drag the monstrous fish to the boat. Lambert cursed and climbed in. Yanking at the rod until the line snapped and they fell back into the boat in a painful pile. Laughing.

He didn’t remember the last time he’d laughed.

“Sing me a song bard.” Lambert would request from under his floppy sun brimmed hat. “No else up here but me.”

“There’s an entire stone keep on the hill.”

“No ones lived there in centuries. No one can hear you up here but me.”

He frowned at the ruins on the hill. Lambert kicked him.

He grinned and for the first time in decades - sang.

Maybe. Maybe the world hadn’t ended. Maybe it had finally restart.

“What was this place called?” He asked as they wandered through the crumbled ruin, covered in moss and ivy.

“Kaer Morhen.” He said like the words hurt him.

They hurt him too. He laughed.

He laughed some more.

He couldn’t stop laughing until Lambert smacked him hard enough to see stars.

“I never got to come here. Geralt.” He caught the flinch but moved past it. “Never trusted me enough to even let me know which country it was in.”

“So you were his bard.”

He nodded as Lambert kicked a stone apart. “He was right not to tell me of course. But.” It still hurt that his best friend hadn’t trusted him with his home. He’d taken Yennefer here. But not him. Never him.

He didn’t deserve Geralt’s trust. A thief, a liar, a spy, a bard. It still hurt.

“Well a wolf finally took you here. Is it everything you fucking dreamed?”

He took it in. “Nah. It’s rubbish.”

Lambert smirked. “Yeah. At least that hasn’t changed.”

“You’re hairs getting grey bard.”

“What?” He nearly leaped into the water in his haste to look.

Grey strands streaked his beard.

“Thank you.” He cried. “Thank you.”

“Still owe me that song Dandy.”

He wrote Lambert a lot of songs. Performed for an audience of one.

“Are you really okay with the fact no one will ever hear them? I mean what’s the point in being immortalized in song if-”

“Yeah. Didn’t give a shit about the songs.”

“Hey!” He protested. Kicking him where he lounged in front of the fire. “They’re good songs!”

He grunted in fake pain. Wiggled out of range. “Did Geralt ever tell you why he liked having you around?”

“My charming personality I assume.”

Lambert snorted.

He sat down on the floor and poke him. “Don’t fall asleep. Tell me why you think he did.”

“No one tells Witchers bedtime stories.”

“Oh.” Lambert was halfway to sleep already. “Would you like one?”

“Yeah.”

“What you think happens after?” They were huddled together. Old and grey as a storm raged outside. “We die.”

“I gave up on gods when i was a child.”

“So did i.”

“Then.” He paused. Listened to the howl. “Whatever’s next at least neither of us is going alone.”

Lambert squeezed his bony hand. “What’s the chance we see them again?”

“Hm.” He pretended to consider. “Well we’re definitely going to hell so-”

“Like anyone we gave a shit about wouldn’t be.”

“Point.”

He closed his golden eyes. “Hey Dandy.”

“Yeah?”

“Sing me out.”

“It’d be my pleasure.”

And quite singing filled the drafty cabin until the song stopped.

The world ended.

And at long last no one woke up in the morning.

[simeramise]

Every moon in the stars

This is a winter gift for @myidlehand ​ , you know why my dear.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

It was Yule night, the winter solstice, the longest night of all. Her silent and heavy cape of cold and snow, dark blue and soft, is draped upon every creek and hollow, mountain and meadow of the land.  

It was Yule night, the winter solstice, the longest night of all and in her arms slept a lost keep, its grey stoned walls, old and tired somewhere in a mountain.  

It was Yule night, the winter solstice, the longest night of all and in this keep, entwined, warmed by a low fire, laid two men. Shining with love and sweat, their dark hair are drawing a halo on the pale pillows. The feather-like fingers of the musician are tracing the scars of his lover’s face, the ones deforming every smile and laugh, every eye wrinkle. The ones born from love, hatred, cowardice, and bravery. The testimony of the man’s life and heart. The moon and her stars were shining bright, their cristal laughs carried away by the wind of the Yule night. 

It was Yule night, the winter solstice, the longest night of all, and a bard loved a witcher. He sang and hummed while his caresses were drawing unknown letters on the witcher’s scarred skin.

Can you hear the mad wind, jealous lover, riding the Earth endlessly, mmm, mmmm mmmmmm mmm....

The witcher is a man of impressive build, hard muscles hidden under a soft and protective layer of fat. He might look like a bear but his school is the one of the wolves roaming the lands. He’s one of the very last wolves of Kaer Morhen, fierce, reliable, fast, silent. His medallion is resting on his dark chest. His strong arms are wrapped around the sturdy waist of his singing lover...

Can you hear the mad wind, jealous lover, mmmm, mmm...

He tightened his hold around him a bit more and hid his face in his neck, nuzzling the soft skin of his underjaw just here. It’s been a long time since they last saw each other.

“Jaskier,… what about Geralt ?”

“What about him ?” yawned the bard.

A silence. “Eskel, what about him?”

“You’re singing about the jealous wind in love, mad with it. I know he loves you, his fire for you is steady and strong, Jaskier. He has never loved so before. I know it, I know him. Does, does he know you... Did you tell him, about you and me, that we... I mean...” A shaky breath, eyes closed “Jaskier, does he know?”

He scrunched his nose, and straightened up, gently pulling himself out of Eskel’s embrace, his hair almost golden in the fire glow.

“Eskel… open your eyes for me, my love. My love, don't you know?”  

He peered into those dark, dark yellow eyes almost brown in the low light and studied the frown disappearing into the soft brown hair.  

“Don’t you know Eskel, how much Geralt feels for you?”

“He loves you Jaskier. He does. So much. And his stories about you, the light in him because of you, well, it made me fall for you, in a way...”  

“Eskel, and he made me fall for you too. His stories about you, the light in him when speaking of you. My poet. I knew you before knowing you.”

The bard grabbed the paw-like hand of his fragile and strong lover and interlaced their fingers.

“Eskel, he has loved you for so much longer than I  have loved him.” A kiss on the thick knuckles. “And I have loved him for so much longer than I have loved you. But it doesn't matter.”

He settled his hand carefully on the witcher’s chest, flat and smooth despite the lute callous and exactly above his heart that beats slowly, so slowly... And the wind is still howling outside. It’s Yule night, the longest of all.

“Love is what counts, Witcher... Love is the only thing that matters. Are my feelings any different than if I’ve known you for centuries? They’re not. Love is I’ve known you for all my life, for centuries and eternity. Love is I’ve been waiting for you, walking the Earth unknowingly to find you someday... Love is eternity. You’re part of my Path, part of my life, part of my soul. You are. And he is. Both of you in a completely different and yet the same way. He knows that. He does Eskel. And he feels the same.”

And slowly Jaskier settled back between the witcher’s arms. Resting his head on his heart. Like he belonged there.

“ Don't you feel how our energies are beating in harmony ?”

“ I do. I do. I thought… I thought it was just me, that I was imagining it. I saw you and Geralt. Geralt, my wolf, my brother, my…” He could feel his hand bruising the soft flesh of his bard’s hip and tried to relax it...

“Yours. Yours, Eskel. I know how you love him. There’s no need to hide your heart from me, my love. I know its truth. Yours.”

“Yes…” he whispered, “Mine. For so long it was just the two of us, you know. Before the trials, the older witchers couldn't tell us apart. We were... one.

And then, then,... there had been life and an ocean of silence and looks and misplaced anger and hurt in between. I was afraid, Jaskier, so. I had no right to love him. And, and...”

“It’s okay, my darling, it’s okay...” and he placed a butterfly kiss on his chin, and another at the corner of his mouth “it’s okay, take your time.”

“And I pushed him away every time I saw myself quiver under his silent concern and his soft worry. And when the world definitively turned against him after Blaviken, I was unable to reach him through the walls he had build around himself. Geralt… He has always been quiet even when he was younger. He’s so much with his whines, grand philosophical opinions, and loud dreams and hopes and yet… so, so quiet in a way? But it was not just that anymore. It was carefully build walls, thick and dark, so dark... And I was helpless at their foot. And then you came, young frivolous man out of nowhere, fresh like a bead of rose… and you broke down these walls, brick by brick, blowing on the dusty cement. And he was almost here again. When he came back for winter he had this lightness in his steps, this lightning in his smiles and jokes. He was as well-fed as one on the road could be, soft white silvery hair, soft tired smile. He was... beautiful.”

“He is...” breathed the bard, curling closer into his lover's warm body...

“Do you know Jaskier how I hated you for that? For making him happy as I could never, for making his heart warm, his smile bright and his swords precise and assured? But I loved you so at the same time for these exact reasons... And I thought let him go. Now, see how himself he almost is again. Hear the tunes hummed under his breath, hear how he speaks of him, see how happiness suits him... Forget your heart. That’s what I thought, that’s what I kept repeating to myself winter after winter, but...”

“You love him.”

“I do. And he, loves you.”

“He does.”

“And you love him.”  

“I do.”

“We met and… “

“And my perfect body, angelic voice, and dark eyelash made it for you, is that it?”

“What? No! What are talking abo... Oh no, no stop that, Jaskier, stop” but the bard was cruelly ignoring him, tickling the tender spot above his right hip, and everywhere he could reach, giggling lightly at how the fierce hunter was wiggling in vain between his thighs “would you stop that now, you stupid bard, stop I said. Since when do you giggle like a brainless maiden, ngh, stop, you heartless idiot” and at last Eskel managed to grab the strong wrists and held them captive above his own head, high on the pillows.  

Chest to chest, honey eyes in sea blue ones, humid heavy breaths shared in the small space between their smiles and the bard flopping dark hair.

They stayed here for a long time, as long as a Yule night.

“Stop it Jaskier,... I was serious”

And Jaskier, he closed his eyes and kissed his witcher slowly, softly, like the most fragile secret laid bare, let his lips linger and as slowly, detached them from his...

“I know you are. You love him Eskel. And I love you Eskel. Don't ever forget that.”

“I’m not the White Wolf, Jaskier. I’m just a witcher. But I thought I could be him, a bit, for you. I wanted to have you like he had. I wanted to be loved by you like he had. And I felt miserable for that... It was the furthest thing I wanted. I wanted you to love me, for me, for who I was…”

“I know. And you’re so very much like him. Scarred by life and combats, by yourself. Scared of yourself. Feeling so much and far too intelligent for your own good. Soft under all these hard muscles. Connected to animals and nature... Even some of your mimics are the same. You’re two sides of the same coin. Your souls are the same. And he’s so much more than you... and you’re so much more than him.

Your lives are different, your feelings are different, your hearts are... your hopes and desires, your fears, your favorite sword moves, everything and anything in you both is so unique to cherish and so beautifully you...

Eskel, when we met, when I met you, you were the one I wanted, the one I needed, without knowing it. Not Geralt. Not anyone else. It was you. I had a void inside me that I didn't know you fit perfectly. I don’t love you because I love him, but you, you are the one I missed… I knew it was you that I‘ve been missing all along... and I learned to love you for more than Geralt’s tales about you. And it was you. Only you.  

My sweet brave witcher you’re not the White Wolf. You’re not Geralt, and you’ll never be. And I never ever want you to be. Each life, each beat of heart is so unique. Geralt is my first true love but my heart is big enough for more than one. Your flame is burning so high and so proud, how could anyone, how could I want you to be someone else. You’re you with all your flaws and with all your virtues. And that’s why I love you.  

Oh no my darling, chase those tears from your eyes, I do.”

Freed from his lover’s grasp, his fingers were caressing his rough cheeks, his brow, smoothing back the straight and silky strands of hair.

“You’re mine, the both of you. I will never love you like I love him, Eskel. And I will never love him like I love you. Do you, do you understand ?”

“I do. I do.”

“You’re you and he’s him. Every love is different, every life, every person, every joy, every cry, every shout, every voice, every music is different. Every shining sun, every storm. The stars who made us are different. I love him and I love you. I know it can seem strange but my heart beats for you both, do you understand? Do you? My love is endless. Eskel, do you know how much I hurt and burn for you both? Please, my love, say some- humpf...”

For as long as time has existed, for as long as a Yule night can be, there had never been a better or more efficient way to reduce a loved one to silence than a stolen kiss. Hot, desperate, fierce and tender were the lips of Eskel on his bard’s, his strong nose digging into Jaskiers’s pale cheek, his hands tugging sharply where they were buried in the short wavy brand strand of hair.

He kissed him, again and again, pouring his heart in every nip and bite, every caress of his tongue, every breath shared... He kissed him.

“I do. I do. I do.”  

He kissed him.

“I feel it too, Jaskier. You and Geralt, souls of my soul, lights of my life, I understand, I know. I feel it too.

I love you and I love him Jaskier”

“I love you and I love him Eskel...”

A shared smile. “... and he loves us both. No, don’t hide, come, come, my dear, the sun will not wake up soon, we have eternity for us, I have something to show you, come on...”

He jumped out of the bed, gathering clumsily the clothes they had discarded when the Yule night was young and feverish. Hair wild, pink cheeks and sparkling eyes, bright red hoses on, a long white nightdress hastily covered by a deep blue woolen doublet, Jaskier was a sight Eskel was unable to resist to.

He shook his head fondly and with much more care and method, the witcher dressed up, putting a plain green shirt on, with a thick darker vest over slack brown pants and his faithful leather boots. The last loop passed, and the last string tied Jaskier grabbed his wrist tightly and pulled him out of the bedroom, along the cold corridor. Across stairs and empty halls full of night he urged him, until they arrived into the courtyard covered in snow and stars, their hot breath swirling white around them.

The stable was lit, torches and lanterns projecting a warm light into the doorway.

The witcher halted, easily stoping the bard’s attempt to drag him closer to the low building. He turned his wrist to squeeze his hand gently.

“What the... No Jaskier, we can’t go out in this weather, it would be too dangerous both for us and for the horses. The night is too dark even with the Moon, later maybe, Jaskier, not now.” He cliqued his tongue “Since when are the candles burning inside? Did you lit them before coming to me? You know they’re precious, we can't waste wax like that, the winter is just beginning... who is here! Show your face!”

A happy laugh resonated in the night and the bard pressed a small kiss on the scarres marring his witcher’s face.

“Shhh, Eskel, it’s your surprise. Close your eyes for me, love, please? There you are, my dear. I know, I know, you don't like surprises, stop mumbling for a minute, right? You will like this one! Or I hope so... Don't cheat! Keep your eyes closed!

Geralt, Geralt my wolf, we’re here!”

The bard’s excitement was palpable in the cold air, filling it with a buzzing energy, almost sparkly on his tongue. Eskel licked his lips and shifted his weight, arms crossed over his chest, waiting, eyes closed.

There were hushed whispers and soon he heard the recognizable step of the White Wolf, sure, light despite his weight and imperceptibly favoring his left side, clear in the night. And following, other steps, unsure, clicking on the old stones of the keep.

A gruff voice, that had always send chills down his spine. Geralt. “You can open your eyes, Eskel”

And he did.

“We discovered her during one of our journeys, the merchant said it’s an alpaca? Or something like that... Anyways, he said he didn't want her anymore, said she was too stubborn, so we brought her back here. For you. Geralt thought that you’d like her... Right, Geralt?”  

“She’s very gentle, curious, and attentive. She’s very strong headed and smart.” The deep voice became hesitant here “She, well, she looks a bit like you… She could keep company to your goat? You... you can touch her if you want, her muzzle is very soft."

“More than Roach's?”

“Wha..? Shut up Jask!”

“My darling wolf. Don't worry I know Roach is the only true one in that heart of yours."

But Eskel was no longer listening to them, his full concentration on the strange creature in front of him. She had very thin legs firmly planted in the ground and a long elegant neck. A thick chocolate fur covered her entire body except for her head on top of which it ended in a wild fuzzy mop. The creature would have looked ridiculous but the big black eyes lined with soft, long eyelashes were hiding a rare intelligence and infinite wisdom.  

A trembling breath left him as he tentatively extended his hand in front of him, palm open, offered, and the alpaca stretched out her neck gently to sniff it curiously, her deep eyes not leaving his. Then, as delicately as a snowflake landing on a rosy cheek, she placed her muzzle against the open palm and closed her eyes for a brief moment.  

A smile bloomed on his torn lips and he sniffed, trying to blink away the blur in his eyes. He met the warm yellow of Geralt’s, and Jaskier’s, shining bright blue with hope. The two of them were huddled against each other, Geralt’s arm around the bard waist.

He took a step back as the alpaca turned around, back into the warm stable.

There was no amount of stars in the night that could compete with the love he felt on this winter night. He was so full of it he thought he couldn't feel more than the one beating furiously in his chest, tearing at his seams.

Until he saw their open arms.  

And he found himself falling in, closing their embrace and burying his face in the long white hair and wild brown curls of the two men his heart was beating for, deeply breathing their scent in.  

After a moment, Geralt broke their warm hug and slipped a hand on his jaw, tenderly. He drew closer and placed a gentle cold kiss at the corner of his mouth, then after a breath of hesitation, another one... He withdrew a bit awkwardly offering a small sheepish smile:

“ Merry Yule Eskel, and happy birthday...”

And Jaskier tightened his hold around his two wolves, shielding them from the outside world, listening to the mad wind, jealous lover of the Yule night, riding every creek and hollow, mountain and meadow of the land...

It was Yule night, the winter solstice, the longest night of all and in a courtyard of an old keep, lost somewhere in a mountain, under the starry vault of the night sky, three men, a wild spirit and two wolf-hearted warriors loved each other.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

(Can you hear the mad wind, jealous lover, riding the Earth endlessly, is an old french winter lullaby)

[bucky-mothereffing-barnes]

How To Please A Woman

Pairing: Bucky x Steve x Reader

WC: 3.7k

Warnings: Unprotected sex, swearing, wrap it before you tap it babes!

“Hey, Bucky?” Steve sat down at the breakfast island, stirring his cup of coffee.

“Yeah?” Bucky responded in a gruff voice. He was never a morning person.

“How do you please a woman?” A blush ran across Steve’s face and down his neck.

You very nearly spit out your orange juice and looked up from your phone, wide eyed. You couldn’t help looking back and forth between your boyfriend and best friend. There was no way Star-Spangled Virgin had just said that out loud, let alone with you in the room.

“...uh. Maybe that’s something we should discuss over some beers. Later. Not right now.” your boyfriend slowly said, his eyes darting from Steve’s eyes to anything else in the room.

“Oh, come on, Bucky! It’s not like you should keep it a secret. She’s right he-”

“I gotta go, bye!” You chugged down the rest of your drink, hastily walking out of the room.

Would Bucky really divulge your sex life to Steve? No. No way. That was between you, Bucky and the handcuffs in your bedside drawer. Maybe he’d just give him advice. 

“Oof!” You fell flat on your ass, groaning before looking up, seeing Sam extending his hand.

“Watch where you’re going. Lucky we have carpeted floors, dumbass.”

You grabbed his hand, laughing a little.

“Good morning to you too. What’s on your schedule today?”

“Training. Wanna join?” 

You nodded, before running up to your room and putting on yoga pants and a training bra, skipping down to the training facility. You hadn’t trained in a couple of days because of an injury on the last mission but you’re good as new now! You can take down Sam with no problem. 

“Let’s go, Birdman!” clapping your hands made him turn around.

“Stretch first. I’m not having you tear anything again.”

With a bit of a huff, you started stretching. Leaning down to touch the ground with your legs split a little, showed off your ass perfectly to Bucky and Steve who we’re just walking in. Those yoga pants left almost nothing to the imagination, and you wanted it that way in case Bucky would train today.

“Oh, hi boys!” You yelled a bit to get their attention.

“Who’re you training with?” Bucky looked around the room before his eyes landed on the man sitting on the bench.

“Sam.” You beamed, a small smirk crossing your face. You knew it would make Bucky jealous, if not, piss him off. And you wanted that.

“‘Sup, Freezeray.” Sam nodded toward Bucky as you continued stretching.

While Sam and Bucky were having a testosterone contest, Steve’s eyes were glued to your body. From your perfectly round ass, to your perky breasts that were pushed up by your sports bra. He was by no means being subtle about it, but it was on accident that he couldn’t hide it. 

“Steve?” You snapped in front of his face to bring him back to Earth. You tried to hide your grin, but it was almost impossible. 

“Huh, what?”

“I asked, since these two are fighting about who’s more manly, would you like to train me instead?” 

“Oh, uh. Yeah!” He cleared his throat, looking around at anything but you.

“Y’know, you gotta make eye contact in order to see where the hell your opponent is. You taught me that.” At this point you were just toying with the poor guy but it was fun nonetheless.

Steve managed to bring his icy blue eyes to meet yours, which had a bit of an evil but playful twinkle in them. This was gonna be fun. Before you knew it, Steve had begun to swing at you, to which you ducked toward every one of them. Even the kicks he was going for didn’t manage to hit you. He was trying, dear lord he was trying, but he just couldn’t make contact with your body. Not that way at least. 

He took his eyes off of you for just one second, to where Bucky stood, watching like a hawk. You jumped slightly off of the mat, wrapping one leg around his shoulders and another around his throat, successfully flipping him onto the mat with your thighs squeezing his throat lightly. What was supposed to be a groan of pain or misery of being humiliated, came out more like a soft moan.

“You win, that was good. Victory for you!” Steve muttered before scrambling out from beneath you.

A small giggle came from you, to which Bucky heard and came over to you after Steve left the room.

“Come with me.” He picked you up, carrying you to the bedroom, to which Sam yelled.

“Who am I going to train with?”

“Figure it out yourself.” Bucky groaned, with a roll of his eyes.

You let out a chuckle as Bucky kicked in your bedroom with his foot, plopping you onto the bed.

“You heard it too, didn’t you?” He questioned, crawling up beside you.

“I did. He was staring at my ass the entire time too.”

Bucky ran his hand down your body before giving your ass a light smack, making you erupt in tiny chuckles. “He had good reason to. My girl definitely has the greatest ass I’ve ever seen.”

“Is that so, Sergeant?” You leaned over, kissing him slowly, licking his bottom lip.

“Mmm, yes. Which is why I’m gonna give you a proposition.” 

It began getting dark as you took a shower with Bucky. He ran his fingers through your hair as he washed it, giving you light kisses on the neck. He could never resist you, but he would have to. For now at least. You both wanted this plan to work, and if it didn’t it would possibly ruin a lot of the team dynamic. Hopping out of the shower, you dried and curled your soft hair, putting light makeup on before changing into black lace lingerie.

“How do I look, baby?” You twirled around with a small smile.

Pulling you into his by your waist, he gave you a deep kiss.

“Perfect. Now go get him, Tiger.”

He pushed you out the door, watching you walk down the hall to Steve’s room. With a soft sigh, you began to get slightly nervous. It could go all wrong, but it could also go all right. You brought your knuckles up to his bedroom door, knocking softly.

“Come in.” You heard Steve say.

You creaked open the door to see Steve sitting against the headboard, reading a book. Probably one from his 21st century list. His bedside light was on, casting a warm glow over his face. 

“Hello, Stevie.” You purred, waiting for him to look up.

“Since when do you call me tha-oh…” His jaw dropped as his eyes scanned you from top to bottom, before he moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

He had nothing to say to you but you could see his adam’s apple bob up and down as he searched for words. You slowly walked toward him, your hips swaying from side to side before you stood right before him.

“When you asked Bucky how to please a woman, I think I could help you figure it out.” You whispered as you sat on his lap, hips on either side of him.

“C’moooon, you don’t think I didn’t see how you looked at me today, do you?” Rolling your hip against his, you heard a small moan escape his mouth.

“I wanna play, baby.” You whined, ghosting your lips over his as you moved your body closer to his.

He placed his hands on either side of you, closing his eyes tight before opening them to look at you directly. It took all it had in him to finally say something. 

“I think, um...I think you should go back to your room.” 

Your mouth hung open as your brows furrowed. That was certainly not the response you were expecting and honestly, your heart broke a little at it. What were you gonna say to Bucky? It was his idea after all, and you liked the idea.

Steve pushed on your hips a little to get you off of his lap. You took his signal and left the room with your head hanging low. Shutting his door closed, your eyes began to water a bit. Did you just get the wrong idea in training? That couldn’t be it. Both you and Bucky saw it.

“Hey, how’d it g-”

Your boyfriend’s voice dropped when he saw you come through the door alone.

“Where is he?”

“His room. He said no.” You sniffled a little before closing the door and sitting next to Bucky.

“Did you do what we discussed?” His head tilted when he looked at you.

“Yeah. And he told me to go back to my room.” 

While you were in your room, talking with Bucky, Steve was in his, pacing holes into the floor. Why the hell would you come into his room like that? You were dating Bucky. There’s no way you would-oh.

You fucking idiot. Steve thought to himself. 

You wouldn’t throw yourself at him like that without Bucky’s permission. After all, he was the one who asked how to please a woman. Well now what is he supposed to do? He told you no and Bucky definitely knows by now. How could he go in there and say, “Wait, never mind. I want to fuck your girlfriend now.”? 

You were on his lap once, maybe you’d do it again if it isn’t too late. You took the risk to ask, he could take the risk to go back and say yes to you. He let out a small nervous sigh and started walking to your room. Steve saw that your bedroom was open slightly and he pushed on it a bit, only to see Bucky on top of you, kissing and biting your neck while you let out soft moans. Your eyes moved over to the door as you saw it open. As your eyebrow raised, you tapped Bucky and pointed over to Steve.

“Well, look who decided to join us.” The brunette said sarcastically. 

“Okay, look. In my defense, I didn’t think about the fact that you could’ve been behind it.” Steve bit his lip.

“Is the offer still up?”

Your eyes met Bucky’s, a grin spreading across both of your faces.

“Come here, Captain.” You sang as Bucky moved to the chair in the corner.

Steve’s brows raised at your name for him while you patted the bed next to you. You threw your legs over his lap after he sat down. Grabbing his hands, you put them on your hips.

“Rule 1 when pleasing a woman.  Use your hands.”

You leaned into him, gently pressing your lips into his. Unlike Bucky’s rough and chapped lips, Steve’s were soft and plump. But, you loved the feeling of both. Steve tightened his grasp on your hips, pulling them across his lap. You let out a hum, deepening the kiss by slipping your tongue into his mouth. He let you explore his mouth, while pushing his bulge up against your barely clothed pussy.

Steve laid down, pulling you with him, moving his hands down to your plump ass. You ran your hand down his body, tugging on his shirt.

“Off. Now.” You demanded. 

“She’s never this controlling with me.” Bucky chimed in from the corner as he palmed himself through his jeans. 

“I take orders from him all the time, it’s my turn.” You rolled your hips down into Steve’s harder than before, eliciting a moan from him while he took off his shirt.

“I like it, actually.” A smile crossed his face, his eyes sparkling. 

“Good boy.” You praised, leaning down and attacking his neck with kisses. 

Steve’s hands shot to your hair, running his fingers through it as you began sucking onto his soft skin, leaving purple marks across his neck. He watched your lips travel from his neck, down his torso and stomach, your occasional nips at his flesh making him groan. 

“How’re you doing, Captain?” You asked him when you made it down to his sweatpants, kissing his bulge through them. You received no response.

“I asked you, how are you doing?”

Steve cleared his throat, but his eyes were still trained on yours.

“I’m good.”

“Only good?” His hips bucked when you gently squeezed him through his pants.

A groan exited his throat, his breathing beginning to pick up. You took that as enough of a response, before ordering him again.

“Take these off. I’m not doing it for you.”

The man scrambled to take his pants off, making both you and Bucky chuckle.

“Good. Now what was rule 1, baby?” 

“Use my hands?”

You hummed before you laid down next to him, leaving him confused. 

“Use them. Figure it out.”

Steve crawled on top of you, kissing you gently as his right hand traveled down your body before dipping under your panties, rubbing your pussy slowly. Your breath hitched as you felt his hand beginning to cross your clit over and over again.

“Fuck it.”

“Wha-?”

Before you could finish your sentence, your black lace panties were ripped in half. You tried to protest but you were cut off as Steve’s fingers entered you.

“Oh, fuck.” You moaned as you stared at Steve, who is pumping his index finger and middle finger in and out of you at a rapid pace. His left hand traveled up your body to pinch your nipples through your lace top. 

Arching your back, your eyes found Bucky’s who’s pants and boxers off. He held his cock in his hand, slowly stroking himself.

“Steve.” Bucky growled at him. 

“Yeah?”

“Rule 2. Use your mouth.”

Without a thought, Steve’s tongue licked a long stripe up your pussy as he continued to finger you. He suckled on your clit, pulling an almost pornographic moan from your body. Soon enough, your lace top was also ripped in half. Except it wasn’t Steve who tore it this time. 

Looking down at you, was Bucky who had a large smirk across his face. 

“Steve is a little busy down there so…”

Bucky latched his mouth onto one of your nipples, making your hips buck against Steve’s mouth who’s finger pinched your nipple again.

“Fuck!” You yelled, your body convulsing on the bed as you came and squeezed your legs around Steve’s legs inadvertently. 

Both boys held you until your orgasm passed and breathing returned to normal.

You let out tiny giggles, making both of them laugh.

“What?” Steve chuckled as he crawled up to you, giving you small pecks.

“Rule 2, down.”

He shook his head a bit; his lips tasted of you when he kissed you. The thought made you shudder.

You didn’t just want to immediately have him fuck you. You wanted to return the favor. To both of them.

“Both of you sit on the edge of the bed.”

“Both of us?” They moved to where you wanted, confused.

With a nod, you got on your knees on the floor in front of them.

“Oh.” Bucky whispered under his breath, realizing what you were doing.

Slowly pulling down Steve’s boxers, you did your best to give him an innocent look, which was totally working. You could see his eyes soften as he looked at you. The kisses you began leaving on his inner thighs made his eyes widen before you ran your tongue on the underside of his cock.

“Shit, baby.” Steve swore under his breath, his head thrown back.

Your eyes found Bucky’s as you took Steve deeper, using your hand to stroke Bucky’s cock. Your tongue swirled around Steve’s cock, making him curse your name and buck his hips. Your hand wrapped completely around Bucky, jerking him off. With both boys moaning, you felt incredibly accomplished. You had the two sexiest men on Earth bent at your will. It made you wet thinking about it.

Bucky moved his hand into your hair, pushing your head down farther onto Steve’s cock, making him hit the back of your throat. His eyes reached Steve’s, nodding at you. Bucky removed his hand, only for it to be replaced by Steve’s. 

“Do you want Steve to fuck your mouth, baby?” Bucky growled at you.

You let out a moan that could only be interpreted as a yes. You batted your lashes at Steve, who delicately thrusted into your mouth, his grip on your hair tightening. The hand that wasn’t pleasing Bucky traveled down your body and began rubbing your pussy. Your moans were sent straight to Steve’s cock, the vibrations making him shake. You moved your hand on Bucky faster and faster until he pushed it away, to watch you.

“Rub your pussy, baby. Make yourself cum for us.” Bucky told you, looking directly into your eyes.

Steve pushed your head up and down faster, as you fingered yourself. You loved watching Steve come undone. And it was even better because you were making his resolve crumble. Your legs began to shake as you felt the familiar coil in your stomach tightening. 

“That’s right, sugar. Faster.” 

The encouragement from Bucky made not only you cum but also Steve who came in your mouth. His warm cum hit the back of your throat, a small moan coming from you as you tasted him. He pulled his hand from your hair and cock from your mouth, panting. 

“You better not be done, Captain. We have another rule to go.” 

“I’m not. Just give me a second.” He chuckled.

You got up from your knees, crawling into Bucky’s lap, rolling your pussy over his hard cock.

“Should we show him number 3 while he waits?” 

“You read my mind, baby girl.” Bucky pushed you back onto the bed, attacking your body with kisses and bites. 

He sat in between your legs, massaging your breasts and rubbing his cock over your clit, pulling moans from your throat.

“What’s Rule 3?” Steve raked your body with his eyes, biting his lip.

“Rule 3. Fuck me.” You winked at him before Bucky swiftly entered you, making your back arch.

Steve’s eyebrows shot straight up as he heard your cry of pleasure. You’re the sexiest girl he’s ever met and watching you get fucked by his best friend made him hard as a rock. He moved to sit beside you and run his fingers through your hair, kissing you deeply. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, searching for moans he’s waiting for Bucky to pull from your body.

An idea popped into his head. Rule 1. He smirked, moving his hand down your body, stopping at your clit and rubbing it slowly while your walls fluttered around Bucky.

“Shit!” Bucky’s hips stalled for a moment as your pussy squeezed his cock. 

“Fuck, Bucky! I need it.” You turned your head to look into Steve’s eyes, your breathing picking up faster.

“You’re okay, baby.” Steve whispered into your ear, rubbing your pussy faster. 

“You’re so beautiful, sugar. You know that?” Bucky praised you, gripping your hips tighter as he rammed into you deeper.

You were out of words, you could only moan for him. He lifted your leg and he suddenly hit your sweet spot. Right where you needed him most. The knot in your stomach began to tighten, finally snapping when Steve slapped your pussy experimentally.

“Fuck!” You screamed, your pussy clamping down on Bucky’s cock, as you felt him fill you up with his cum.

Bucky almost fell on top of you, ending up on his back next to you.

Steve left soft kisses on your body as your breathing eventually returned to normal. He got up to get you a glass of water from the bathroom, doing the same for Bucky.

“You okay, doll?” Bucky gave you a forehead kiss, watching you nod. 

You set the glass of water on the bedside table, turning to Steve.

“Rule 4.”

His eyes widened,

“What? Aren’t you tired?”

“That was an order, Captain.” 

A tired smirk formed on Bucky’s face, watching Steve obey you.

“On your back, baby.”

Steve moved to lay on his back, watching you climb on top of him. You gave him gentle kisses with a bite to his lip every so often before you sank down onto his length. His hands found your hips, making sure not to move before you told him to. He was thicker than Bucky. He stretched you out but it felt so fucking good. 

“Move, Captain.” You gave a small nod before he pushed up into you.

“Ooooo, shit.” You whispered more to yourself than anyone. 

Placing your hands on Steve’s built chest, you glanced at Bucky for a moment.

“Ride him for all he’s worth, baby girl. Better hold on tight, Steve.”

You suddenly rolled your hips against his harder than you had before. Steve’s leg muscles tensed beneath you while a moan scratched his way out of his throat. Chuckling a bit at his reaction, you began bouncing on his cock. Steve’s hands moved from his hands to your breasts, squeezing them and pinching your nipples. 

Your walls squeezed around him, making him gasp.

“Fuck, baby. You’re like velvet. Shit!” 

Bucky crawled up behind you, kissing your neck and rubbing his cock between your cheeks.

“Mmm, you take Steve’s cock so well, sugar. It’s like you were made for us. Isn’t that right?” 

You gave a nod, as you were currently wordless. He snuck a hand from behind you, one on your neck and one on your waist, holding you from moving.

“Fuck her hard, Steve.”

You felt Steve push up into you harder than before, his cock pulsating. Bucky’s metal hand curled around your neck a little tighter, making your eyes roll back into your head.

“You gonna cum for us, baby doll? You gonna let Steve fill you up with him cum? Huh, baby?”

Suddenly, Bucky let go of you and you dropped onto Steve’s cock, right as he came inside you, your pussy squeezing him. You leaned down and crashed your lips to his, your body shaking as you came around Steve’s thick cock. His arms wrapped around your waist as he held you close to him, his breath heavy.

You hissed slightly after he pulled out of you and set you beside him. Once you calmed down, you looked at both of the boys. 

“Hi there.” 

They smiled at you,

“Hey there, baby. You okay?”

You gave them a nod, sighing and closing your eyes.

“There’s one more rule that I just came up with.”

They both stared at you curiously, waiting for you to continue.

“Rule 4. We gotta do this again.”

“I think we can work with that one.”

[thewritingstar]

Hi star,

Hi love. I’m sorry I made you cry with my angst. So because you are so nice, I’ll give you some fluff to fix the soul.

Fluffy greens because you deserve it 😘

—-

She had always thought her first kiss would be gross and clumsy....and it was. An awkward pressing of two lips from two people who knew nothing of what they were doing and definitely nothing about love.

But it was still good. She liked it. It was messy and kinda gross but she had a sense of pride when she gushed to her sisters that the boy of her dreams, Mitch of course, finally had the balls to kiss her at the age of fourteen.

Bubbles squeal was ear shattering and Blossom taped her mouth shut as she congratulated her on the experience. The red in her cheeks only died when she went to sleep.

She had thought she was doing it wrong but when she asked Mitch was he felt, the anwser was just as promising as her own.

“Good.” Simple. Short. They didn’t do romance or gushy stuff, they were fourteen and she had more bruises and scars than Bubbles had stickers....so many stickers.

She never believed the movies when the girl would gush about seeing stars and feeling light headed. The rainbows and fluffy bunnies didn’t come to mind with the press of a short kiss. Mitch was good. She was good.

And she was okay with that. And when they broke up a year later, it was fine. They weren’t weird about it, okay maybe the first month but the moment they went into high school, they had settled their differences if you can call it that and genuinely appreciated friendship more.

Throughout school she shared kisses three more times. One with a boy for four months and that was fine. Another with a guy during spin the bottle sophomore year and a behind the bleacher make out session with the best offense player on the other high school female basketball team, so it happened once but still nothing.

After four kisses from four different people she was now convinced that kissing just wasn’t her thing.

“Mm could be.” Blossom said she asked differently questions about the idea of kissing.

“It’s not like I don’t want to kiss anyone.” She rolled her eyes and hugged her knees to her chest. “It just doesn’t feel right.”

Bubbles braided her hair and patted her head. “Ya know sometimes you need the emotional connection for the spark. Not all relationships are based on physical attraction.” Of course the psychological point was being added but Buttercup listened and nodded.

“Maybe.”

And she graduated high school with a few more kisses here and there, mostly from party games and dates but the tingling feeling maybe was just from her being drunk as a minor or that she needed to pee.

In any case she didn’t despise kissing, she just, she didn’t know. In fact the only time kissing had ever been of any excitement was when she blew that RowdyRuff boy up and out of the sky before he returned and beat the living daylights out of her, just for a simple peak.

It felt weird to think about that. They had returned back in town during high school and hadn’t had much connection, other than him bothering her every fucking day in four of her classes.

They were buddies, besties, bffs as Bubbles would sing and she had never thought of him in any way other than that, at least not out loud.

“So we finally graduated.” He huffed as they sat on the roof top of the school. Everyone was getting ready for the graduation party of the century at Princess place and of course she was only invited because Bubbles had taken a liking to her....they were cute she couldn’t lie.

“Not surprised I did.” She said as she popped open a soda can. His shoulder pushed on hers.

“Fuck off.” He slightly laughed and it softened as the sun began to set.

“So college now.” She hummed and she was kinda dreading this. She was excited for the next chapter. She wanted to study sport medicine every since sophomore year and with a full ride on her basketball talents, it was becoming clearer everyday.

“Yep.” He popped the ‘P’.

“Have you decided which school?” She toyed with her shoe lace. He had three options, one was at her school and deep down she hopes he would pick that. College with the best freind? Yes please.

“Mostly leaning towards the one in Oregon, it’s full ride which is great for my part but the other ones are only half.”

Oh.

“Well that sucks.” She picked at the cement and took a sip of her drink.

“Well we still have summer to get all the shenanigans of the greens out of our system.” She laughed at this as she thought of the extend list of things they had planned and it some how made it sad.

Buttercup finished her soda before setting the empty can on the ground. “You know what’s stupid?” She asked and their shoulders were touching.

“Enlighten me.” He cooed and she shot him a glare.

“We nearly dated or talked to every single athlete in this school.”

“Yeah but we are both hotties with fine asses so I don’t see who wouldn’t want a piece.”

“Right.” Her voice trailed off. What was she doing? She could sense it in her stomach. That gut feeling tightening as she knew she wanted to do something bad. She got this way when she would steal a cookie from the jar or break one of Bubbles crayons.

Guilt? Not really. Sadness? A little.

“Well we never dated each other.” He had finished her thought and she shuttered.

Most people chimed in saying it was like they were already married. If Brick and Blossom were the old married couple and Princsss and Bubbles were the love sick fools while Boomer and Mitch were honeymoon babes then what were they?

Had he thought about them together? Did he sit on his bed awake in the night with sudden random flashes of them together? Them on dates and whispering things into her ears? No he couldn’t have right?

“Guess we haven’t.” She said and they sat staring at the sunset. Orange and pink mixing to yellow, pretty.

“Do you want too? Just to say we did?” He asked and she was already turned towards him and his eyes matched hers.

“Why the fuck not.” They both shrugged and it truly didn’t feel like a big deal.

“Aight.”

His hands pressed gently against her cheek. She had felt the blundering blow of them before and was a little surprise at how soft and delicate they were. She leaned into it and she watched as his eyes slightly narrowed. Almost like he was deep in thought.

His pupils were slightl wider and she was sure that hers were too. That warm sensation that rushed to her cheeks, blushing? Yeah that, she felt it in a flash and for a moment he looked at her in a way she had never felt anyone look her before.

The flashback of senior prom came when they jokingly shared a dance. It had turned slow at the last second and instead of turning away, he took her hand and swayed to the beat.

She had pressed her head against his chest, because her feet were killing her obviously but she listened as he softly sang the words to the song only so that she could hear.

The song was coming to an end and she had made the mistake of looking up at him because she saw the most beautiful shade of green she had ever seen. Quickly she had looked away b she wouldn’t forget the way he gazed upon her.

That look. The one where his eyes seemed brighter than normal was her favorite and it seemed like something was on the tip of his tongue. His cheeks were slightly puffed out with that small smile and the only time she had seen it was under the light of a shitty disco ball as he held her close and the idiots thought nothing of it.

But now she came back to now. Them sitting on a foot top, graduation robes and hats tossed behind them as the sunset was fading in the distant. The classic romance movie setting and she had been so blind to everything before.

“We are so stupid.” He whispered with a laugh as her lips parted and accepted his almost as of her life had depended on it.

It rivaled her other kisses. It wasn’t sloppy or messy, not strangely wet or gross. It felt...remarkable.

His lips fit to hers in a way no one hand before and she was desperate for more as she angled her head and kissed him deeper and more passionately.

Her arms went to his neck as she pulled him impossibly closer and she felt that turn of his lips into that wicked smirk she desperately loved.

Love. The sensation that makes you feel butterflies, maybe this was it.

And all those times she didn’t believe the movies and books, she needed to write an apology for all the times she doubt them.

The fireworks as his lips heated her skin. They sparkled a bright luminous green around them as if their powers blasted in the sky. The tender feeling that could only be described as a chocolate truffle melting on your tongue, weird but true.

He tasted like heaven and soda pop and she found herself hoping for the moment to never end.

He pulled away for air and she was left panting as she stared at him in a new light. Like one of those romance movies that show the halo glowing around the love of your life? Yeah she saw that oddly enough and by the enchanted look in his eye, he saw it too.

“We really are idiots.” She laughed for she was pulled into another kiss.

She owed Bubbles her savings. The emotional connection of pure trust. She never trusted someone like this and felt a connection on a deep level that ran through her veins. Everyone else was missing that spark. That dark green spark that shines brighter than a thousand suns.

She understood everything better. If everyone else was love sick puppies and star crossed lovers then they were the fools. The ones who didn’t see that the love they craved and dream of was always besides them, a pair of green eyes and a toothy grin.

“Well I think my college choice is made up.” He winked and she knew in her heart that the fireworks were just the beginning.

—-

I hope this mended your heart and was soft enough. 💕💕😊

[sierraraeck]

Return to Normalcy (Pt.1)

BAU x OC Aundreya

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Summary: Returning to normal has never been so hard. Just as Aundreya is starting to make amends and fit back in with the group, something gets in the way. Story twenty-two.

Category: Angst, but there’s some fluff too

Warnings: Cussing. CM talk. Mentions of death and suicide as a COD. Break-ins.

Word Count: 5.5k

It was odd, how quickly things seemed to go back to ‘normal.’ It was a new sort of normal, like if you’d moved out of your house and years later the new owners invited you over for dinner, but it felt familiar nonetheless.

It seemed to me that we were all more focused on the cases coming in, and while the rest of the team still went out for drinks after a long case, I no longer took part. It didn’t feel right, and above that, I had to get home and prepare for whatever new guest decided to grace me with their presence.

The nice way of saying that people were breaking into my apartment.

It started the Monday I had returned to work with the BAU. Once we got home, my apartment was trashed with a lovely note carved into my bedside table letting me know that this was only going to get worse. I had no motive for them either, but I had three guesses: they were working for DeLeon, they were working for Archer, or they were working for me. If they were working for me, they were probably pissed that I went back to the BAU, or they were clients that held a grudge.

Either way, it didn’t really matter, because if I wasn’t already having trouble sleeping, I definitely was now. I never knew what day, what time, or how many people there’d be. I hate to call it a game, but that was honestly what it’d become. I tried to track their pattern, but they were good, keeping everything very random. I started making bets with myself about the day, time, and number of people, just to keep things interesting.

I walked into work with new bruises and cuts all the time. I tried my best to cover them up, but I wasn’t stupid, and I didn’t believe my teammates were blind. But none of them pushed, they only ever gave me weird looks, which I promptly ignored.

It wasn’t until I was so tired and in pain that I couldn’t do my job correctly.

I was chasing down and unsub, but I couldn’t keep up. He turned a corner and when I followed, ambushed me. We started fighting, but I couldn’t hold my own. Had it not been for Derek following me and shooting him off of me, that man would have strangled me with his bare hands. Only then did Hotch pull me aside.

“Chambers, what is going on with you?” he had those stern, yet caring eyes trained on me.

“Do you want the real version, or the boss version?” I sarcastically asked. He raised his eyebrows slightly. “I’m having trouble sleeping. I wake up every night from nightmares if I’m lucky enough to fall asleep in the first place.”

“Do you expect me to buy that, or do you also fight your furniture in your sleep?” he asked.

“I do expect you to buy that, because it’s true,” I shot back.

“But that’s not everything,” Hotch pointed out.

I shrugged, “It’s close enough.”

“Chambers,” he warned.

“I’m okay,” I assured.

“You almost died today in hand to hand combat. I’ve never seen you even come close to losing to someone in that area. You beat Morgan on a regular, and he’s one of the best fighters I know,” Hotch acknowledged, “What is going on?”

“Hotch, please-”

“I will ask you to take time off if this is not something that can be solved.”

“No!” I barely let him finish, “You cannot confine me to my apartment.”

He gave me a quick once over, and I tried my best to look composed. “I will order you to tell me if things get worse.” I nodded and gave a small ‘thank you’ before walking away.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

I did everything I could to prepare for the intruders, but it was another long night. I was never sure if they were out to kill me or just scare me, but it usually ended up with me fighting two or three people at the same time. Usually they fled before things got too serious, but I ended up having to drag out a body every now and then.

Last night was no different, fighting two masked people until they decided to leave. The one upside of all the constant fighting after a while, was that it was allowing me to sleep better. I was so exhausted by the time I was done, that I could actually get three or four solid hours of sleep. Ironic how the same problem causing part of my lack of sleep, could also help me sleep.

The one thing different about last night, though, was that I finally got a look at one of their faces, unmasked and alive. It wasn’t much, but it was something to go off of.

I convinced Garcia to help me find someone who was hopefully in the system. I gave her a description; a man in his early thirties, red curly hair, about five foot eleven, scar behind his ear. She pulled up known felons and those in the prison system, but none of them were him. I didn’t want to have to raise suspicion by asking her to do it, but I had to know who was coming after me. So I went out on a limb and asked her to search for people in the Bureau, and those who worked closely with Agent Howard Archer.

And then I saw him. Some new assistant of Archer’s that also happened to work for the MI6 before moving to the US.

I played it off to Penelope, but I now knew who was coming after me. He must have been nearly as pissed as DeLeon was about Xena, and even more so about the fact that I weaseled my way out of charges, out of DeLeon’s grasp (if he knew about that), and all the way back to the BAU.

But I had a plan, one that would grant me more peace, and help keep the BAU team together.

Things just worked out even better than expected when Emily accidentally dropped information to one of the deputies that was helping his son get away with muder. Not like I wanted her to make a mistake, she was already feeling more guilty about it that she needed to, and I did want to be there for her, but it also just so happened to serve a bigger purpose as well.

We boarded the jet on our way home after using a couple extra days to catch the deputy and his son. Emily sat by herself in the back, clearly beating herself up. I saw JJ say something and squeeze her shoulder, but Emily was not having it. I gave her the first half of the trip to wallow, and then made my move.

I approached her seat and went to sit down when she waved me off, “Chambers, I really can’t go through another ‘it’s okay we still got him’ pep talk right now.”

I sat down right next to her and put my feet up on the other seat. I crossed my arms over my chest, mimicking her movement, and said, “Nah, man, I came over here to tell you that you majorly fucked up. Didn’t you hear? If you’re in the FBI and wrongfully trust your fellow law enforcement officers who are supposed to be helping you catch the bad guy, you’re immediately terminated?” She glared at me from the corner of her eye and I smirked, “I’m serious, Emily. If you ever make a mistake and then end up solving the whole case for us like that again, I think we might just have to fire you.”

“You’re hilarious,” she deadpanned.

“No, not really,” I smiled, “I only think I am when I’m massively sleep deprived and my badass coworker makes the coolest unsub takedown of the century.” She rolled her eyes. I looked across the aisle to where JJ was seated and asked, “Come on, JJ. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re wrong,” JJ absentmindedly sang, not even bothering to look up from her magazine, “It’s not like she launched through the air, tackled him, and rolled on the ground a couple of times before handcuffing him from her position on top, then stood up like it was nothing.”

I shrugged, turning my attention back to Emily, “Ooh! So, does this mean, now that you’re obviously leaving, that I will be the best at the shooting range?”

“Okay, please stop,” Emily finally spoke back up. She still wouldn’t look at me, but I could see the beginning of a smile creeping up on her face.

I lightly poked her in the side, and she finally cracked a smile, looking over at me. “Look, historically I’m not the greatest at giving pep talks, but I’ve fucked up enough time to know the usual bullshit that they entail, and I know that not a single ounce of it is helpful. It’s gonna feel crappy for a while, that’s just how it goes, but trust me when I say that you have a lot more to be proud of than slipping up once in your seven years of being with the FBI. Not to mention that you personally got to kick his ass anyway.”

“Yeah, but,” she shook her head, “next time, things might not end as lucky.”

“God damn it, Emily,” I tsked playfully, “You’re starting to sound like me. And I can tell you with confidence, being me, that I do not recommend that path.”

“I appreciate what you’re saying but-”

“But you don’t want to come out with me and the girls tonight,” I sighed, posing it more like a statement than a question. “I get it.”

JJ perked up at this, and asked, “What is this you’re saying about girls night?”

“Oh, I guess it’s not that exciting. Emily doesn’t seem interested,” I feigned a grimace, reaching into my pocket to produce five ticket.

“What are those?” Emily asked.

I hummed, “I guess I’ll have to sell yours, or refund it or something, you know, since you don’t want to come out with us.”

“Aundreya, I swear to god,” Emily started, reaching for the tickets in my hand. I jerked them back, but Tara yanked one from my grasp.

“Alanis Morissette? Are you for real?” she asked.

“Dead serious,” I grinned.

I turned to Emily whose mouth was agape, “How’d you know? I’ve been trying to see her for years, but we always have a case!”

“Look, we have tonight and then the extended weekend off. I figured we could get some sleep this afternoon, get ready, go out to dinner, and then go to the concert,” I suggested.

“Absolutely!” Emily’s excitement was enough to make all of us smile, “This is amazing. Does Garcia know?”

“Does she ever,” I murmured. “She nearly wrecked the surprise about twelve times already!”

The girls laughed, and the prospect of getting away and doing something fun seemed to put everyone in a much better mood.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

I woke up on Garcia’s floor completely exhausted. But for once, it was a happy exhaustion. No break ins, no nightmares, just the five of us girls having the night of our lives. I checked the time, and the brightness of my phone blinded my eyes. The time read 9:24, and my head hurt a little, but I knew how to drink. Emily and Tara would be fine by the end of the day, but I wouldn’t be surprised if JJ and Penelope were hungover until the weekend was over.

I started cleaning up the place, trying my best not to make any sound or knock into any bottles. When it felt sufficiently cleaned, and I did everything I thought I could that would be quiet, I went to the kitchen to make breakfast. Emily was the next up, and walked into the kitchen rubbing her eyes and holding an empty tequila bottle. She placed it in the trash, then walked over to where I was flipping pancakes.

“Damn, aren’t you tired?” she asked.

I gave her a look. “I’ve adjusted to the constant pounding in my head.”

“Right,” she rasped, “I forgot. You’ve got that super power that allows you not to be affected by drugs and alcohol and stuff.”

I just nodded. “How was it, though?”

She looked at me confused for a moment, before realizing I was talking about the concert. “Aundreya, it was amazing. I can’t believe you did that for us.”

I shrugged, “I just figured we all needed a break.”

“Amen,” Tara said, finishing the last of her beer before placing the empty bottle on the counter.

“Beer before pancakes?” Emily asked.

“My head already hurts, I don’t think another swig’ll change that,” she pointed out. When the other two woke up, we ate breakfast and finished cleaning Peleope’s apartment. It was the first time since I’d been back that I actually did something with the group, and it was actually really fun. We were all Alanis Morissette fans, so we practically screamed the lyrics all night. Not one of us could talk properly, our vocal chords probably wrecked for eternity.

When we finished up, we all decided to head back to our own places. I dreaded leaving, knowing that there was a 50 percent chance that mine was raided yet again.

I was the last one out, and right as I was about to leave, I felt Penelope’s eyes on me. She’d been acting a little strange around me the entire night, and I was wondering if she was ever going to talk to me about it. I turned around to face her and saw that she was looking at me with very nervous eyes. I offered her a small smile, hoping that she would come out with it on her own.

When she just kept looking at me, shifting her eyes between me and the door, I carefully asked, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she quickly said, seeming to pull out of her thoughts. “Sorry to keep you. You can head home if you need to.” She rushed over to me and started to open the door but I slightly leaned back on the door so she couldn’t fully pull it open.

“If you want me to leave, I will,” I looked her straight in the eyes, “But if you have something to say, or ask, please do. I don’t want you to be nervous to talk to me.”

She struggled for the right words for a moment before she sighed. “Do you want to sit?” I nodded and followed her to the couch. She took another deep breath before starting, “It’s about your ring of people.”

“Okay…” I invited her to continue.

“Um, Deen, that’s his name right? Deen?” I nodded, “Well, he mentioned something to me about you wanting to recruit me before I got offered a job at the FBI.”

I pressed my lips together with understanding. Of course Deen would slip up when it came to ‘The Black Queen.’ I already knew he had a not so little crush on her, and now that he’d met her, he wouldn’t shut up. “Yeah, I did. You were just starting to get really big around the same time the Cloaks were going under, and I knew you’d be a big asset to our team. Once I had the ring up and running, I made a plan to reach out to you and ask you to join us. It was a bit of a long shot considering you were using your skills to do good and you’d probably think we were on the opposite end of that, but we really wanted you. Well, I really wanted you and Deen was really pushing for it. Honestly, we were only three days out from inviting you in when you got caught. We were hopeful, but when you accepted the job with the FBI we weren’t surprised. Still sad, though,” I admitted.

“So, had I not got caught, or you’d gotten to me a few days earlier, your life could’ve been my life?” she asked, a bit of wonder in her voice.

I joked, “Hopefully not. But you would’ve been in the room with me whenever I was planning something new or we were tracking a client or mole. You probably would’ve been our lead in operations considering you’d have access to all of their information and security cameras we’d need to hack into, not to mention some of our own.”

“That’s… wow,” Penelope stared out the window as if she could see her other life playing out.

“But I think you ended up where you belong,” I smiled at her.

She mirrored my expression and agreed, “Yes. I think you’re right. It would’ve been interesting though, to see how different my life would’ve been.”

“Maybe,” I reminded, “But you might not have even said yes to us to begin with.” She looked deep in thought, understandably. It was a lot to process, especially since she had some idea of my lifestyle and the amount of trouble I got into. But it was still a possibility that she’d never had the opportunity to ponder. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yes. Thank you for last night and, for answering my questions this morning,” she stood up with me as I went to grab my stuff and head out the door.

“If you want to know anything else, just ask,” I smiled.

She nodded and was about to close the door behind me she shyly questioned, “And Deen?”

I grinned from ear to ear. “Great guy, super loyal, funny, and a natural leader and protector. Oh, and super into you.”

She smiled to herself, looking down a little bit, then gave me a wave as she shut the door.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

When I got back to my place, and saw that the door was already cracked, I sighed. I swung open the door to see that things only continued to get worse.

Sitting there on the couch was Spencer. There was broken glass and knocked over furniture strewn all around, and he was like a rare diamond sitting in the middle of the rubble.

“Aundreya, what is going on?” his voice was soft and concerned, eyes wide.

“Spencer, please-” I tried.

He shook his head and gestured for me to sit down next to him. I swiped off some of the stuffing coming out of a read and sat down. “Please. Please tell me what all of this is. I want to help.”

“You can’t help,” I said.

“Only because you won’t let me,” he pointed out. “You’re coming to work with new bruises all the time, you’re clearly more tired than usual, and your ability to think and physically perform are decreasing.”

I looked down at my hands, spinning the bracelets around my wrist. “People are breaking into my place. It’s completely random but I can fend them off.”

The shock and concern in his eyes grew, “How long has this been going on?”

I purses my lips, “Since I came back.”

“And how many times has this happened?”

I looked around my apartment and shook my head, “I stopped cleaning after four.”

“Aundreya-”

“Don’t say anything,” I pleaded. “If you do, then I’ll have to take time off and leave this place defenseless, or you’ll assign people to stand guard which will likely only get them killed. I’m handling this.”

“You call this,” Spencer gestured to the disaster I called an apartment, “handling it?”

“I’m trying to handle it,” I corrected, “And it’s actually been getting better.”

“I know that’s not true,” he accused.

“Well now I’m too tired for nightmares and can actually get some real, solid sleep, so I’d call that a win,” I snapped. He looked at me hurt, “I didn’t mean to sound like that.”

“My point exactly. You’re too tired to control your emotions. You’re irritable,” he stated.

“I’m okay,” I insisted. I could tell he was not buying it, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want him anywhere near my apartment. Anywhere near me. It would only put him in harms way.

“Is this why you always insisted on going out to meet me instead of going to one of our apartments?” he asked.

We’d been meeting up for food or just walks when neither of us could sleep. He was still dealing with prison, and drugs, and Cat Adams with his mom (which I didn’t know about until I came back), while I was dealing with Xena, and DeLeon, and Agent Archer. We quickly realized that there was no one else to call at 3am in the morning when we couldn’t sleep besides each other.

“That, and I didn’t want to intrude on you and Maeve,” I whispered.

“She actually hasn’t been staying over these past few days,” he murmured. It threw me off guard, so I just stared at him with my head tilted to one side. “Yeah. I don’t blame her though.”

“Wait, it was her decision?” I asked.

“No, well yes,” he stumbled. “I mean, I felt bad constantly being away, and the only time I was here I was waking up with nightmares. She deserves better than that.”

“And you deserve to be with who you want. Don’t push her away because you feel guilty, let her make that decision on her own,” I finished with a yawn.

“God, you need sleep,” he said, effectively dodging my previous statement.

“Yeah, but then who’s gonna protect you if they come back?” I attempted to joke.

He reached down and produced his gun, then flashed the other one around his ankle along with a small dagger. I raised my eyebrows at him. He shrugged, “I think I can hold down the fort for tonight. The team needs you to be rested to chase down our unsubs.”

I laughed, “Yeah, but they need you rested to actually find them in the first place. I can pass the whole chasing them down thing back to Morgan for a while.”

“You’re not going to be able to sleep with me here, are you?” he asked.

I shook my head, “In your defense, I wouldn’t be sleeping if you weren’t here. But now that I know there’s more than just vases in here to protect…”

“Fine. How about we take shifts?” he offered.

“No, you should go and get some real sleep on a bed, not a couch that’s falling apart,” I suggested. He gave me a pointed look, and I knew he wouldn’t be sleeping either now that he knew what was going on. “Fine. Shifts it is.”

He stood up to go shut and lock my door, then came back to sit next to me on the couch. I put my head on his shoulder, and before I knew it, I was out.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

I woke to the sound of ringing. I looked up to find that somehow, we both ended up asleep on my couch, my head on his chest, curled up in his side. His arm was around me and I wanted to believe that the ringing was just a part of another nightmare, but when it went off again, I sprung up off the couch. I quickly scanned the windows and all the doors, waiting for someone to jump us.

“It’s okay,” Spencer rasped, sitting up, “It’s just our phones.”

I looked down at the coffee table near the couch to see that he was right. “Oh.” I answered mine and walked into the other room while Spencer answered his, cursing myself for being so jumpy in front of him.

It was Penelope, “You need to get here fast. There’s been a death.”

“Be right there,” I answered. I shuffled back into the main room where Spencer was already grabbing his stuff, running his hands through his hair.

“Do you want to ride with me?” I asked.

“Sure,” he replied.

When we arrived at the bullpen, Hotch ushered us up to the round table room, and locked the door behind us.

“Hotch, what is going on?” JJ asked first.

We all looked at him expectantly. “Early this morning, the body of Associate Deputy Director Howard Archer was found in his apartment.” He flashed a picture up on the screen. Archer was hanging from his ceiling fan by his bed sheets. “It has been deemed a suicide, but we’ve been asked to confirm that COD.”

“Why? Is there any evidence of foul play?” Derek asked. I stayed completely silent.

“No.”

“Then what do they need us to investigate for?” Emily prompted.

“His wife swears that he wasn’t suicidal. He had been happier these past couple years, and only recently seemed on edge, but she said he seemed scared, not depressed,” Hotch presented.

“Yeah, but can’t fear and sadness sometimes appear to be similar?” JJ asked.

“Sure, but she claimed he seemed jumpy. Like looking over your shoulder scared,” Rossi answered.

“Chambers, you’ve been awfully quiet,” Derek looked at me.

I shrugged. “It looks like a suicide to me.”

“No more?” Derek pushed.

“Look, Reid, don’t you have some fact about people who subconsciously make stuff up when a loved one dies to cope? It’s like transferring but-”

“There are all different types of memory bias and false memories. Sometimes as a coping mechanism, victims can convince themselves that something different happened, or there were warning signs when there weren’t. Inaccurate recall, especially one of a key eyewitness causes almost-”

“Exactly,” I veered back to the point, “And if there is no evidence of foul play, I’d say we give it a little time and close it.”

“I agree,” JJ backed me, which I found slightly surprising.

“Okay,” Hotch said, “Rossi, take Reid with you to the scene and assure them of our conclusion unless anything else turns up.”

They nodded and left for the scene, while the rest of us went to our respective desks to get a jump start on paperwork.

I was relieved that I had played it off, and so far, it seemed like no one suspected a thing. I mean, I was with the girls for the entire night, or most of it anyway, and would have a clean alibi.

But I did kill him.

When we went out to dinner, I told the girls that I’d left my jacket at home. They all knew how tired I was lately, and didn’t question my forgetfulness. JJ offered me ker keys, which I took, but dropped in Heidi’s pocket. Heidi was one of the girls that I used to dance with, and she and I looked remarkably similar. If she kept her head down and away from cameras, you’d think she was me. I had her drive back to my place to get my jacket while I pickpocketed our waiter for his keys. I drove to Archer’s place, sneaked in through the window of his bedroom, and grabbed the sheets off his bed. I had gloves and shoe covers on, and my hair pulled back, so I was in the clear. I came up from behind him, and strangled him to appear the same way a suicide would. Tying him up to the ceiling fan was the fun part. At least I got to use a ladder I made sure to push over at the end. I then headed back to the restaurant where I grabbed my jacket from Heidi, and took back JJ’s keys. Entering the restaurant, I ‘bumped into’ our waiter to replace his keys, then sat down for dinner and went to the concert.

I didn’t plan on getting questioned, but if it got that far, I knew the girls would vouch for me. I mean, I was with them for the entire night except for the 20 minutes I left to get my jacket.

I was lost in thought, reconfirming to myself that there was no way I would get caught, when Derek viciously called across the room, “Chambers, what the hell?”

I looked and noticed the team and I were the only people left in the room. Rossi and Reid had returned, but I couldn’t figure out what he was so mad about.

“What do you mean what the hell?” I fired back.

“What is this?” Derek demanded, walking over to me and shoving his phone in my face.

It was the recording of me, sitting in the nursing home chair, saying the shittiest things I could think of. And I looked stone cold serious, “I don’t really have to think that much when it comes to that pathetic, riddled with daddy-issues boy. All he really adds to the team is a pretty face and a body that can chase down unsubs. Now that I can do that, I don’t really see his value on the team. I think the team just keeps him around because he’s funny to watch at bars surrounded by women.”

“Shut that off,” I croaked. The rest of the team had circled around me, looking hurt and shocked and betrayed.

“How could you say those things!”

“Derek, I can-” explain. But he cut me off before I could speak.

“Do you have any idea-”

“Yes!” I interrupted, “Yes, I know what I said, I know what I did! But if you’d just-”

“Don’t turn this on me,” he shouted back. Unbelievable. He’s not even gonna let me explain. I’m back to ground zero, and they won’t even give me a chance. “Penelope is by herself crying right now because of what you said!”

That was the last straw. “She almost died because of what I didn’t say!” That shut him up long enough so that I could finish, “God, one thing goes wrong and every single one of you flips on me in an instant.”

“I don’t know how you expect us to constantly forgive you for all the things you’ve done.”

“I don’t. Okay, I don’t. Not anymore,” I hissed, “Don’t expect me to do the same for you.” I shoved the last bit of paperwork into my bag and picked it up to leave.

“Do the same?” Derek’s voice was littered with irritation and sarcasm, “What do you have to forgive us for?”

I was almost halfway to the door when I spun on my heels, “Leaving me to rot in prison.”

“Yes, that was a mistake,” Emily jumped in, “But we realized that and came to save you from DeLeon.”

My mouth was agape, “You think that makes up for it? If you wanna play that game, how about this: I saved Spencer’s life that day, and you repaid me by forgetting about me behind bars. I got myself out of that DeLeon situation alive, and not like you’d care, but I got the rest of you out alive too, so don’t try to use finding me and carrying me out of that place as a remedy, because if I wanted to, I could have saved myself the pain and the torture and just let you all die.”

The team was in shock, and I started taking backward steps toward the door again when Derek recovered and spoke up, sounding slightly confused “So that’s it? You’re just gonna leave?”

“You don’t seem interested in anything else I have to say,” I spat.

“Look, we just-” Derek tried, his voice softening a little.

“No! No, I’m done with you constantly turning on me without hearing my side and then expecting me to accept your half-ass apologies. But I’m supposed to be understanding, right? I’m supposed to cut you slack because I’m the problem, right? I’m always the problem, with you, with the team, with every single relationship I’ve ever been in.” I huffed, “With me. I’m always the problem, okay, I get that. I’ve received the message loud and clear.” I continued on my path to the door, and I felt all of their eyes on me. Against my initial intentions to just walk out, I spun around and continued, “Just so you know, those things that I said saved your lives. And I didn’t mean a single word of it.”

“What do you mean saved our lives?” Emily asked.

Then I laughed. For profilers and FBI agents, I was surprised they hadn’t picked up on it. “How do you think he knew where you were and what you were doing, huh? Who did you think shot Penelope?” They still looked at me with empty faces. “He had snipers on you, and it seems I just couldn’t lie well enough when it came to her.” I turned toward the door.

“Chambers-” Emily tried.

I didn’t even turn around when responding, “Have fun at your little outing tonight. I won’t wait up this time.” They always went out after paperwork days, and I finally thought that tonight would be the night I’d join them again. But I was wrong.

Part 2

Series Taglist

@justanothetfangirl @kris-stuff @blameitonthenight21 @wooya1224 @unded-bride @swiftingday @dezzxmx

[lil-meow-meow-goes-rawr]

Next to You

☁️ rating: general

☁️ pairings: Yoongi x female!reader

☁️ genre: boyfriend!Yoongi au, fluff, romance, body positivity

☁️ warnings: low self-esteem, self degradation, lack of self-love, body image issues, severe period cramps, reader is in pain

☁️ synopsis: When you wake in the middle of the night with horrible cramps, Yoongi offers to rub your tummy in hopes it’ll help, but your own insecurities get the best of you. However, Yoongi is quick to reassure you that no matter how soft your tummy may be, he loves you all the same.

☁️ A/N: I definitely cried while writing this because I struggle when it comes to loving my own body. I wasn’t going to post this originally but eventually decided there may be some of you out there who could benefit from it. So here it is. If you’re like me and struggle to love your own body, just remember what Jungkook sang once in 21st Century Girl - “You deserve to be loved”

☁️ word count: 1.2K

 ☁️ Mᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

You attempted to suppress a groan as you rolled onto your side, curling your legs up and hugging your knees to your chest. Yoongi lay beside you with his arm draped lazily across your torso, still fast asleep. You knew you should get up, find some ibuprofen or a heating pad but you couldn’t get yourself to move.

Several hours ago, you’d been awoken by severe pains in your lower abdomen. The cramps had been bad enough to keep sleep just out of reach since then.

A pitiful whimper left your lips as you attempted to find a comfortable position. You cursed yourself for your lack of pain tolerance. It was like this every month. Several days of cramping torture usually kept you from getting much sleep. It had come on several days early this time and you hadn’t expected to have Yoongi there with you. You couldn’t even spread out properly into awkward positions to find relief. 

Curse this tiny bed. You grumbled to yourself as you shifted once more, only wince at the sharp pain the movement caused.

Taking a deep breath, you attempted to roll over once more without waking up your boyfriend. Your efforts were futile however when you noticed him groggily blink his eyes open. Frowning, he looked up at you in concern as you sat up with a huff of defeat, hissing at the pain.

“Y/N?”

Not able to take it any longer, you forced your legs to swing off the side of the bed, landing uncomfortably on the cold floor of your bedroom. You needed some relief. 

Ignoring your boyfriend’s calls, you shuffled from the room to the bathroom where you desperately dug through the array of medicines you kept in the cupboard. 

Where was it? 

You knew you still had some left over from last month.

“Y/N? What’s going on?” Yoongi appeared in the bathroom doorway, rubbing his tired eyes. “Is everything ok?”

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, sighing in relief when you found the right bottle, “I was hoping I wouldn’t wake you up.”

“It’s alright,” he paused a moment as he watched you pop two of the little pills into your mouth, “you didn’t answer my question though. Are you alright?”

Slumping your shoulders, you finally gave in, allowing the tears to stream down your face as you silently shook your head. In seconds, Yoongi had wrapped in a warm embrace, his hand combing gently through your tangled hair.

“Babe, what wrong? You’re scaring me.”

You attempted to gather yourself enough to form an answer but you were no longer in control of your own emotions. You’d released the floodgates and there was no holding it back now. 

“It hurts.” You mumbled pitifully into his shoulder.

He was quiet for a few agonizing moments before a quiet sound of recognition left his lips. Without a word, he ushered you back into your bedroom and helped you back onto the bed. 

You watched as he shuffled from the room then, only to appear a few minutes later with the heating pad and some chocolates in hand. A soft smile graced his lips as he helped to make sure you were comfortable and worked to get the pad plugged in and heating up. Lifting the comforter over you, he happily tucked you in before snuggling in beside you.

“Here,” he gently pulled you into him and wrapped his arm around your middle, his fingers rubbing gentle circles across your lower stomach. 

It was soothing and you suddenly realized why he enjoyed it so much whenever you rubbed his tummy for him. You almost sighed in relief but your own self-doubt and insecurities kept you from doing so. Instinctively, you pulled away from his touch, the voices inside your head screaming at you. You tried to block them out, but they were so loud. Fat. Ugly. Disgusting. The profanities rang out clear inside your own head.

Yoongi frowned in confusion, lifting his head to look at you. Keeping your eyes downcast, you did your best to avoid his gaze.

“What’s wrong?” He asked in concern. “Should I not do that? Does it make it worse?”

You shook your head, biting back the sudden buildup of tears in your eyes. “It felt nice,” you admitted sheepishly, “I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

There was a moment of silence and you found yourself wishing your could burrow under the comforter to hide for the rest of your life. Somewhere in the deep recesses of your mind, you knew the thoughts in your head weren’t true. This was Yoongi. He wouldn’t care that your stomach was not firm beneath his fingers. He’d never once mentioned your weight or said you’d needed to change it. He had a way of making your feel beautiful even if you didn’t see it yourself, so why were you hesitating now? Perhaps it was because your shirt had ridden up, giving his hand direct contact with your skin. Allowing him to feel every roll and stretch mark that you hated so much.

“Why would I be uncomfortable?” Yoongi questioned, though you had a feeling he already knew the answer.

Your eyes burned against the threat of tears as you choked back a sob. Your emotions had gone haywire and you wished you weren’t being such a cry baby. Still, you couldn’t help it.

“Y/N,” propping himself up on his elbow, Yoongi used his other hand to gently lift your chin up so you could look at him, “tell me. Why would I ever be uncomfortable touching you?”

Dropping your eyes, you ran your own hand over your stomach, cringing at the way the skin moved beneath your own fingers. How would anyone not be disgusted with you? Why would anyone willingly touch you?

Yoongi’s hand reached down to cover your own, resting them both on the center of your stomach. “How many times have you told me not to fret over the size of my own stomach? How many times have you told me you like my ‘soft tummy’.”

“Your’s is cute.”

“What makes yours any different?”

You bit your lip. Despite your best efforts, a single tear escaped your barrier to run down your cheek and dampen your pillow.

“I won’t tell you anything superficial. I have a feeling you wouldn’t believe me even if I did.” Planting a soft kiss on your cheek, he settled back down on his own pillow, burrowing his face into your neck. “Promise me you’ll believe one thing though? Promise me you’ll believe me when I tell you that I adore every aspect of you. From each one of your beautiful eyelashes, to the bottoms of your feet. Though you could use more lotion,” he teased, playfully rubbing his nose along your ticklish neck, “they’re getting a bit rough.”

You laughed lightly as you found yourself relaxing against him once more.

“Sleeping next to you is my favorite thing in the world. No matter what size or shape your body is, that will never change.”

More tears stained your pillow as he intertwined your fingers. Words escaped you as you lay in his embrace. Yoongi had always been insistent on helping you see the worth in yourself. He was always making sure you knew just how much he loved you and how beautiful you were in his eyes. You weren’t sure when or even if you would ever reach a level in which you could love yourself, but Yoongi was determined to try to help you there. Lying in his arms then, as he resumed rubbing gentle circles across your stomach, you began to believe it was possible. For the first time, you saw hope.

[hermionemonica]

Cause I knew I was in love with you (when we sat in silence): Marichat May 2020 - Day 30

AO3 | For the @marichatmay

Collab with @lalunaoscura

DAY 1 | <-29 | 30 | 31->

Day 30 — Purrince

Marinette dashed through the streets, barely dodging the army of the akuma. There were too many of them already; she needed to find a safe place to transform so that she could stop them. 

Disney princes were something every girl grew up fantasizing about. But too much of anything was bad. 

This akuma was a man, probably twenty or so. He called himself Prince Charming, and according to him, the solution to his problems was to turn the citizens of Paris into sappy men in 19th-century clothing. Ugh. 

Just as she was about to turn the corner, someone grabbed her wrist and whipped her around. It was one of the akuma's minions. 

“You're the most gorgeous princess I have ever laid my eyes on,” the man sang as he forcefully dragged Marinette into dancing a duet with him.  

It wasn't difficult to understand that his arms around her were actually to trap her. Struggling to get away, she muttered, “I'm sorry, but I need to go.” 

“Why, ma belle?” The man tightened his hold around her. “Would you abandon me after I scoured all the lands to find you?” 

That's a little extra. “Please let me go, sir!” 

A sudden blow on the head sent the man reeling. As a steel baton was pressed against his throat, pulling him behind, a voice hissed in his ear, “Touch her one more time and you are a dead man.” 

“Chat Noir!” 

“Run, Marinette!” He yelled at her. She took one last glance at him, and then disappeared around the corner. 

*

 Ladybug turned up to the fight on time. The supervillain was defeated and Chat Noir cataclysmed his crown, releasing the akuma. Ladybug purified the akuma and made everything return back to normal. 

“Raphael!” A girl came running towards them and hugged the man. 

“Claire?” He looked confused and happy, and wrapped his arms around her. 

“I am sorry about everything I said,” she sobbed. “I don't want you to be like a Disney Prince, I love you just the way you are!” 

“Well that's a happy ending, right m' lady?” He turned to her with an extended fist. 

She fixed him with a stern look as she bumped his fist. And then she swung away. 

 *

 “What do you think you were doing back there?” She demanded, running her hands through his blonde hair as he lay with his head on her lap. “That man could have gotten seriously hurt!” 

“What, I was just protecting a civilian in danger!” He protested. “And helping you get away so that you could transform!” 

“Really? ‘Touch her one more time and you're a dead man’?” 

Chat pouted for a few seconds before giving up. “Alright fine, I was mad! There was no way I was going to let him off after he held you like that!” 

“You knew he was under the effects of the akuma.” 

“Marinette, I know an asshole when I see one. It's called the ‘boyfriend tingle’, if you must know.” 

Marinette broke into a laugh at that. “Possessive much?” 

“Of course!” He yelled. “That jerk had no right to call you his Princess.” He tilted her chin slightly up with a finger. Narrowing his eyes, he whispered in a husky voice, “Only my Purr-incess.” 

Marinette gasped softly. Then she parted her lips, and leaned in towards him. She saw Chat Noir close his eyes, as he lifted his head slightly. Just before their lips met though, she stopped. “Your Purr-incess, huh?” She smirked. “So does that make you my Purr-ince?” 

Chat Noir slowly opened his eyes as a blush spread over his cheeks. “I am so attracted to you right now,” he muttered. 

“I see you approve of the title, huh?” 

“Just let me kiss you, woman!” Saying so he crashed his lips onto hers, pushing her back. She placed her hands on his biceps. He put his hand at the back of her head to deepen the kiss. She smiled against his lips, and he could practically feel the butterflies in his stomach. 

When they broke away, Chat leaned his forehead against hers. Brushing his knuckles on her cheek, he murmured, “Call me that again.” 

“My Purr-ince,” she whispered, as she kissed the corner of his mouth. “My Purr-ince,” and she kissed his jawline. “My Purr-ince,” and she kissed his earlobe. 

“Okay.” He put his hands on her shoulders to push her away. When she grunted in protest, he hissed, “If you keep doing that, I might end up doing things that I really shouldn’t.” 

“Really?” She cocked her eyebrow. “Who said that I’d mind?” 

“Marinette,” he shrieked, “please don't tempt me!” 

“Alright, alright!” She stood up. “Do you want to help me edit my designs in my sketchbook?” 

“Yes!” He leapt to his feet. 

They both went up to her balcony. The next couple of hours passed quickly as they worked at her designs. Marinette sat in Chat's lap on her lounge chair, holding her sketchbook in her hand. Chat Noir had some valuable inputs to give about what was in trend and what was selling. 

“Thanks kitty,” Marinette turned and kissed his cheek when they were done. “Now I can start on the actual dresses, and that way I can have them up on my website next month!” 

“No problem, Buginette.” He kissed her nose. 

“Bedtime?” 

“Sure!” 

 *

 “You know that you can ditch the hoodie now just like you did your mask, right?” She asked him as they lay on her bed, facing each other. 

“I don't want to.” He grabbed her hand and kissed it. “Besides this was a gift from my amazing and incredible girlfriend, and so I am not giving it up any time soon.” 

Marinette giggled. If someone had told her a few days ago that she was going to spend her nights sleeping in the same bed as Adrien Agreste, cuddling and kissing, then she would have laughed it off. Hell, if someone had told her a few months ago that she would be kissing and cuddling with Chat Noir, she would have laughed even harder. 

But this is real, she thought to herself, as she ran her fingers along his face, tracing his features. Adrien Agreste, Chat Noir. Her partner. Her best friend. Her boyfriend.  

Her Prince. 

“You're mine,” she whispered.  

“I am.” He leaned over and planted a kiss on the top of her head. “In every way you want me to be.” 

It could not be any more perfect than that. 

They fell asleep very soon after that, holding each other in their arms. 

 *

 “I hate history!” Alya exclaimed in frustration. “I mean, it's all dead people and stuff! Why does it even matter?” 

Adrien was just about to say something in reply, but Nino put his hand over his mouth. “Not now, dude,” he hissed. 

The four of them were working on their history project. They were supposed to be working in pairs, but Alya did not want to cut off her ‘Nino time’, which is why they all ended up spending the afternoon in Nino's room. And Adrien and Marinette were definitely not going to complain, not that their friends needed to know why. 

“It's not that bad, really,” Marinette started, which earned her a groan from Nino.  

“What?” She turned to look at him in surprise, and Nino shook his head in resignation. “I'm just saying,” she went on, “I get a lot of fashion inspiration from history, and sometimes it's fun to learn about interesting people!” 

“The only way I'm gonna be interested, girl,” Alya deadpanned, “is if there's a Miraculous holder somewhere in there.” 

“There you go again.” Marinette rolled her eyes. “There's better stuff too, you know? Like,” she flipped a few pages, “architectural structures, traditions and customs, and-" she looked straight at Adrien as she said the next words. “Maybe a handsome Purr-ince or two?” 

Adrien choked and broke into a violent fit of coughing. 

“Hold up a moment,” Alya turned in her seat. “What was that?” 

“What was what?” Marinette turned to her with an innocent expression on her face. 

“That.” She pointed at Adrien, who was still attempting to recover from his coughs. 

“He choked,” Marinette replied. “What do I have to do with it?” 

“M,” Nino cut in, “Don't try to wiggle out, I saw that too." 

“It's just a little inside joke.” Marinette shrugged, trying very hard to hold back her grin. 

“Now that's what I call interesting.” Alya leaned in. “Since when are you two having inside jokes?” 

“Oh, it's been a while.” Marinette caught Adrien's eye and winked. 

Adrien was so dead. At this rate, Marinette was going to murder him in a day or two.

[of-muppets-and-men]

Penumbra

Chapter 5: Rising Light

For the first time in what felt like eons, Rukia could say she felt happy. Her life after the Quincy war was most definitely not at all what she’d thought it would be, but at least she could find solace in the little things. She would keep her promise to Katsumi and visited the Shihouin manor every chance she was given, Ichika eagerly by her side every time. The unknowing half-sisters would play from morning till evening, uproarious laughter and pure smiles never leaving their faces. Rukia could happily sit and watch for hours on end; the mother’s joy of seeing her girls flourish delighted her beyond words.

Because if she refrained for even a moment, she would drown in all the regrets that plagued her. The things she should’ve done differently or things she shouldn’t have done at all. If it weren’t for these gracious visits, Rukia likely would’ve fallen apart at the seams ten times over. So to spare her children the harm of the truth, Rukia omitted it altogether. And foolishly intended it to stay that way.

Three years passed by far too slowly and far too quickly in equal measure. Passage of time was typically inconsequential for Souls and Shinigami; decades could whip by and no one would bat an eyelash. Most in the Seireitei stop keeping track after a century or two. Three years was a wink by comparison, but that didn’t change Rukia’s perception by any stretch. Not to mention today: Katsumi’s birthday.

It was odd. Seeing the girl who once was barely bigger than her forearm growing into a beauty nearly as tall as her now. Bitter as it may have been to come to terms with. But still… Ten years old. In a home of warm and plenty. All things Rukia wanted for her but couldn’t provide. A debt to Yoruichi she’d never be able to truly repay. 

The party was going to be a small affair, just the way they wanted it. As grand as Rukia and Renji’s wedding had been, most shinigami including them and Yoruichi weren’t big on pageantry. But for what it lacked in guests, it made up for in substance. The Abarai family came down as they normally did, Ichika beaming with excitement to see her best friend again. Renji begrudgingly held Katsumi’s gift: a limited edition Chappie plush. She was Rukia’s daughter after all…

As the family came through the front door, they barely managed to take off their sandals before they could hear Katsumi barrelling down the hallway.

“ICHIKA! AUNTIE RUKIA!” the little girl exclaimed as she tackled them both.

“KATSUMI!” Ichika roared, equally excited.

With a thud and audible groan, Rukia was planted on the ground, Katsumi’s arms wrapped around her waist. Her eyes, by the soul king her eyes, looked identical to Rukia’s. Her elated firstborn giggled as Rukia ran a hand through her hair.

“Hey Sweetie.”

“Jeez, you guys okay?” Renji asked, able to avoid the chain reaction.

“Mhmmm!” both girls said together.

“I’m fine, dear.” Rukia noted weakly, still a touch winded.

Her husband chuckled and crossed his arms at the entanglement of bodies while Rukia scoffed at his lack of action. Eventually, Ichika and Katsumi got up on their own, helping Rukia too albeit a bit unnecessary. The acting captain of squad 13 dusted herself off just before delivering a swift kick to Renji’s kneecap. The lieutenant slumped over in pain, while Rukia and the girls smirked deviously.

“The hell was that for?!” He snapped, clutching his abused leg.

His wife didn’t say or do anything besides give him a playful raspberry; a gesture Katsumi and his daughter copied. Renji could only groan in response, evidently outnumbered again.

“My oh my, I was wondering what all the fuss was.” A voice from beyond the foyer said.

The Lady of the Shihouin slowly sauntered into view, her typical grin stretched across her visage. Katsumi’s eyes brightened, running into her arms.

“Mama! Auntie Rukia, Uncle Renji and Ichika came!” the little one sang, bouncing up and down.

“I can see! C’mon let’s show them inside.” Yoruichi said lovingly.

“Okay!” Katsumi cheered “Ichika! I’ll race you!”

Ichika locked her gaze on her best friend, full of determination, “You’re on.”

Before anyone could argue, they bolted down the hallways, leaving their parents behind in a cloud of dust. She was sure they couldn’t hear her, but Rukia called out to them anyway.

“Ichika! Don’t break anything!” 

Her daughter slowly faded into a speck in the distance. A short sigh escaped through her nose followed by a chuckle. Her husband did the same, save for his almost proud smile. 

“Well, I guess we should find them before they find the cake.” Yoruichi chimed in.

She had that right. The last thing those two walking cataclysms needed was sugar. The shinigami weaved their way through the winding corridors; Renji marvelling at the unexpected complexity of the manor. Even Rukia was a touch surprised, far too accustomed to the layout of her own home. Unlike Ichika, Rukia didn’t have the child-like enthusiasm to explore. It was exsquisite, lavish in every sense of the word compared to the bland tastes of the Kuchiki household. Formality may not have been in Yoruichi’s vocabulary but luxury definitely was. 

Well, nothing is broken so far, Rukia thought to herself.

 A minute or so later, faint laughter could be heard from the dining they’d been searching for. With a gentle slide of the door, the shinigami saw their children playing a rousing game of tag around the dining table, loud as always. Though what they didn’t expect to see or who rather, was Isane joining in on the fun.

“Hey you guys! Long time no see.”

“Isane?!’ Rukia smiled.

“Captain Kotetsu? What are you doing here?” Renji said, equally perplexed.

The captain of the fourth division casually walked over to her friends, a captured Katsumi trapped under her arm. As Katsumi tried to wriggle free, Ichika pulled on her arms in an attempt to free her. But they sorely underestimated the might of a captain.

“Auntie! Lemme gooo!” the girl protested happily.

Ignoring Katsumi's cries for release, Isane answered Renji’s lingering question, “Why wouldn’t I be here? This one here would never forgive me if I missed out on her birthday.”

A lump had begun to take shape in Rukia’s throat. Her violet eyes gazed into her former nursemaid’s, a silent plea for her to maintain her secret. Please Isane, her mind repeated over and over. Luckily, her pleas would reluctantly not go unanswered. Isane put down her adoptive niece, giving her a loving kiss on the forehead. Renji stood like a stump, confused by the relationship between Isane and this seemingly random kid.

“Yoruichi asked me for help when Katsumi was little. Who was I to say no to an innocent child.” the captain explained.

“Is that right?” said Renji, arms crossed with vague suspicion.

“Mhmmm. Katsumi was quite sickly when I found her...” Yoruichi piped up, vouching for Isane’s lie, “She probably wouldn’t have made it if Isane hadn’t helped me.”

“I see…”

Silence enveloped the Shinigami, save for the girls in the background. A familiar solemn look adorned the lieutenant’s face, a look the captains were fishing for. Meanwhile, Rukia couldn’t say a word as her confidants lied on her behalf. Every syllable created a deeper pit in her stomach, worsened by the fact Katsumi was mere feet away. She tried her hardest to remain composed, but the mask threatened to slip at every turn. 

Before the mood could devolve any further, the refreshing scent of food filled the air. In a moment’s notice, a slew of attendants filled the room, carrying platters of anything you could possibly ask for. Meat cutlets, Ramen, Curry, and so much more; arguably too much for the small party to handle. 

A single member of Yoruichi cooking staff approached her, “Everything you requested, my Lady.”

“Yoruichi! You didn’t need to serve this much…” Rukia chided.

“Nonsense!” Yoruichi rejoiced, “Now let’s dig in”

Rukia rolled her eyes at her old friend as everyone blessed the meal before them

“Thank you for the food!” they all said in unison.

Plate by plate, the group slowly chipped away at the banquet that laid before them. Unfortunately with the girls present, alcohol was strictly prohibited by the Lady of the House. Much to Renji’s annoyance. But he wouldn’t let it put a damper on the meal. After all, everything tasted divine. The birthday girl barely gave herself time to breathe, she was stuffing her face so quickly.

Though it didn’t take long for things to slow back down. While they recovered from a phenomenal meal, now seemed as good a time as any to give Katsumi her gifts. Ichika excitedly gave Katsumi the large box, taking no time at all to tear through the wrapping paper. 

Katsumi gasped in delight, “A CHAPPIE?!”

“Special edition too.” Rukia added, warmed by her daughter’s shared love of the rabbit.

Katsumi leaped into Rukia’s embrace, brimming with glee “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“You’re very welcome, Katsumi…”

Ichika joined in, hugging her half sister and mother as tightly as her little frame would allow. Renji sat by, basking in the joy of his family while Yoruichi and Isane disappeared into the kitchen. And when they returned, dazzling light drew the birthday girl’s attention. In her hands, Isane held a cake decorated in sparklers courtesy of Kukaku, while Yoruichi  held something behind her back. Katsumi’s gaze remained fixed on the cake, her cake; her mouth agape like a flytrap. As Isane placed it on the table in front of her, Yoruichi stroked a hand through the girl’s hair, saying a sentiment everyone repeated.

“Happy birthday, Katsumi.”

With a blow of the candles, the group cheered on the little soul, making her smile more brightly than she ever had before. 

“Did you make a wish, Sweetheart?” Yoruichi asked tentatively.

“Uh huh!” Katsumi proudly declared.

A poke in her ribs led her Katsumi’s eyes to Ichika, “Well, what is it?”

“I wanna be a Shinigami!”

A twinge of horror shuddered down Rukia’s spine. A Shinigami? She was far too young to even flirt with the idea. Beads of sweat formulated on her brow as she looked in Yoruichi’s direction. It seemed the Captain of squad 4 shared her concern but the Commander of the Onmitsukido had other ideas.

“Well then… If that’s what you want, then you’re probably going to need this.” Yoruichi said, pulling out Katsumi’s zanpakuto from behind her, “I think you’re tall enough to hold it now.”

She placed the sheathed blade in the girl’s hands while Renji and Ichika marvelled at its size. The weapon tipped as Katsumi tried to find her balance with it, the weight still unfamiliar. Eventually, she managed to hold it still, smiling at her first steps towards her wish. Rukia, however, did not share in her delight; all too eager to voice her objections. Both of her children sat quietly while she raised her voice.

“She’s too young. They’ll never let her enroll at Shin’o.” Rukia argued, upset Yoruichi would entertain the idea while she was still a child.

“No matter, she can apprentice under me.”

“Yoruichi…” 

“I could teach her some basic kido” Isane half-heartedly spoke up.

Rukia was less than entertained. She may have forfeited her right as Katsumi’s mother, but that wouldn’t stop her from protecting her. How could Yoruichi be so blase about this? Katsumi is a child. She shouldn’t be so eager to thrust herself into a life of dangerous combat. Curses, of all the things she could’ve inherited, it just had to be Ichigo’s recklessness.

“Well, it does matter too much right now.” Yoruichi spoke again, “given that she has yet to learn her zanpakuto’s name.

“True. But if that thing’s size is anything to go by, then I look forward to the day she’s ready.” Renji suddenly remarked.

Rukia’s gaze snapped towards her husband, but he only replied with a shrug. A defeated shake of the head ended Rukia’s outburst. What Yoruichi said barely set her at ease. Sole reason being, if she’s Ichigo’s daughter, then it won’t be long until she learns her zanpakuto’s name. And that idea gave her chills.

Quick as the day started, it was now coming to a close. Evening just on the horizon, Rukia and Renji decided it was about time to bring Ichika home. As much as Ichika might’ve complained, her wails weren’t as convincing as she began to drift off in Renji’s arms. After a lovely party, the abarai family said their proper goodbyes, promising to return sometime soon. One last hug from a teary eyed Katsumi and they were on their way home. It was bittersweet, but Rukia felt blessed she was able to share this day with her.

Yoruichi and Katsumi waited by the gate as was customary until their guests were no longer in sight. Isane had returned to her own barracks some time before; an urgent matter according to Kiyone. With a big yawn, Yoruichi felt it was long overdue for Katsumi to be in bed.

“Such a big girl, putting on a brave face. C’mon, let’s go inside.” Yoruichi coaxed, offering a hand.

The exhausted child took her mother’s hand, barely awake enough to make her way back inside. Every hallway looked the same as Yoruichi guided her through. If only for a moment, she found the strength to ask a question that had lingered on her mind.

“Mama? When will I learn my sword’s name?” 

The sudden question took Yoruichi by surprise, but was able to answer, “One day Katsumi. Once you start your training, it will tell you.”

“How?”

“Your Zanpakuto is a part of you, an extension of your soul. When you’re ready, it will tell you its name. Now no more questions, it’s time for bed.”

Yoruichi could hear her daughter’s disappointed pout, but fortunately she was too tired to argue any further. The pair continued through the manor until they at last came to Katsumi’s room. The massive bedroom fit for a princess matched the luxurious tone of the rest of the manor. With a spot of help, Katsumi lazily changed into a nightgown leaving her Shihakusho in a pile on the floor. Yoruichi chuckled as Katsumi shambled towards her bed, flopping on the mattress like a fish out of water. The captain made sure to tuck her beneath the velvety duvet and with a kiss on the forehead, Yoruichi made her exit.

“Goodnight, Sweetheart.” She said quietly though she was only met with her daughter’s delicate snoring.

Katsumi drifted off in a sea of blankets while Yoruichi shut the door behind her. Shrouded in bliss, she faded slowly into a dream or what seemed like a dream?

She heard a voice call out her name and awoke in a place she didn’t recognize. Where am I, she pondered to herself. Katsumi arose on a slope of green grass; her eyes shot forward to a place she’d never been. A riverbank? That bridge… this wasn’t the Seireitei… but if so, where was this place. Katsumi’s gaze continued to dart around, trying to make sense of what was going on.

“Mom?! Auntie Rukia?! Anybody?!” She called out to no avail. 

But the strangest part was.. Even though she was alone, Kastumi didn’t feel scared. She was remarkably calm despite having every reason not to be. Suddenly, she saw a woman by the river. Where did she come from? She definitely wasn’t there before. Katsumi slowly and carefully approached, the woman turning to look at her. Whoever she was, she was beautiful… a warm smile accompanied by long wavy, brown hair flowing over her shoulder. She was dressed up in a silver kimono with a golden obi. Another thing felt strange about her, somehow familiar? Yet Katsumi had never seen her before. Before Katsumi could even say a word, the mysterious woman spoke first.

“I’ve watched and waited a long time for you to arrive here.” the woman said.

“Who are you?” Katsumi asked, finding her voice.

The woman then proceeded to pick something off the ground, a thing Katsumi hadn’t noticed before. A long object she recognized as a sword. Eyes wide, she stared at the woman. With a smile, the woman spoke once more.

“I am your Zanpakuto.”

[ramblingqueenfangirl]

Who gave them the right!!!!!????

Freddie Mercury, an immigrant boy from Zanzibar who had arguably one of the best singing voices ever just naturally like it belonged there as much as the blood in his veins. He could write #1 worldwide hits in less than an hour and if he took longer, would write what some in the music business have called the greatest rock song of all time. Had an ear for music that is so finely honed he can hear a song once, sit at a piano and play it and most likely even improve upon it. Who only had piano lessons for just a few years in school as a kid, and sang in the school choir at 7 and never again had any training in music or anything that it entails, yet sang better than the most trained vocalist ever. Who had one of the most exotic, recognizable, and in my opinion, sexiest looks along with the charisma of a thousand stars in one man. He could play genius melodies on a piano and secretly played insanely unique and awesome rhythm guitar. He had the talent of at least ten of the best musicians the world could produce, and was generous and funny, and just an all around good person and could control an audience of hundreds of thousands with absolutely no effort who were all in sync better than the back ups in a Jane Fonda work out video, with merely one finger. Who even though was very particular and perfectionist about his music worked so hard that not one person who ever made music with him left feeling he wasn’t the best. Who didn’t know the meaning of the word moderation and lived a life filled with more fun in just 45 years than most humans that live to be 100. Would give interviews with some of the most perfect answers just off the top of his head that are still quoted by many almost 30 years after his death. Who was the most generous celebrity ever, and was loved by most of his contemporaries even when they wanted to be jealous of him. Who sang opera that he WROTE, with one of the best opera singers that has ever breathed air, and had her in awe of his ability while fighting an unknown, excruciatingly painful, and deadly disease. A pairing that came about from one short interview in the diva’s home country and started a enormous and lasting trend of rock musicians singing opera and trying to copy the success that he created on a whim, and all others have failed to live up to miserably. A man whose instinctual movements to the music that poured out of his very soul from every pore, were so graceful, odd, and completely unplanned and awesome that it made him one of the best entertainers that ever stepped onto a stage. Who found true love even with every single obstacle stacked against it and managed to have a relationship that though not perfect was so beautiful no fairy tale could match it. Who never slept alone a day in his life and even when penniless lived like the greatest star that ever lived. Who even though a small man, who weighed nothing and wasn’t extremely tall, managed to be appealing to both men and women and personified the word sexy. Who never once in his entire life lost the beat of, both a life lived completely fully every day, or the timeless and completely inspired music he created with absolutely no effort. Who was so naturally gifted that it’s hard to believe he was actually human. A man that had a long and successful career but only took one 20 minute performance to become the most legendary performer in more than a century, all while sick with a throat infection which he refused to let stop his performance of some of rock’s hardest songs ever sung. Who when he shared a stage with the most popular and beloved artists ever and with no lights or costumes, made them all look like amateurs. Who 60 percent of 1.6 billion people voted as the most iconic and great live music performance that has ever been. Who many people believe is one of the greatest singers and frontman that did and will ever exist. When he died the grief never stopped or wanrd in intensity. Who set records in music,and then over 25 years later set a movie industry record with over 900 million dollars spent to see a biopic about his life.

Brian May, not only can use his fingers to make sounds on a guitar that a guitar shouldn’t be able to make, but was so determined to learn guitar he and his father built one from left over fireplace parts. As a child, learned and studied astronomy and physics well enough to get his masters in the subjects and later a doctorate. Has the most recognizable hair of any rock and roll musician ever naturally growing from his head, and while attaining all this education, mastered the art of guitar playing at the same time. Who has a singing voice good enough to front his own band but finds the perfect band mates by complete coincidence and become sone of the best guitar players ever and played in one of the biggest rock bands ever and be a genuinely nice and kind person as well. Taught school while his band was still finding their fame and even at 70 is still one of the coolest and most recognizable musicians on the planet. Who plays the same guitar over half a century later that he built with his dad from fireplace parts and which no one can ever completely replicate and is still the most legendary guitar in music history and he still plays all over the world and who no one has ever been able to compete with that cost less than 50 British pounds to construct.

Roger Taylor, with his baby blue eyes and long blonde hair who was too pretty to be a guy and can play drums with the best ever. He can sing in perfect range to be in harmony with his amazingly gifted lead singer while drumming at break neck speed. Who was the one who met Freddie first and introduced him to his band mate and friend Brian May and cemented one of the greatest music destinies ever. Who got more women than Casanova and could play drums and sing perfectly even when still drunk or hungover. Who has a bit of an ego, but is also humble and kind to fans. Who is the soul mate of one of the best singers that rock ever knew. Not only did they understand each other’s souls but their voices complemented each other so well only the angels in heaven could harmonize better. He could lead sing in and did, lead his own band where he played guitar yet another talent he possesses in spades. Who was made to be a rock star from the minute he decide he wanted to be. A man who could with very little time be certified as a dentist and studied biology with remarkable grades finishing his degree even though he knew he didn’t have to.

John Deacon, a man who is the definition of the word winning, in human form. A guy who on the outside seemed regular and average but was actually one of the most extraordinary musicians that ever picked up an instrument. A human disco ball who not only played bass guitar better than probably anyone but did it while dancing and writing some of the biggest selling songs of his legendary band without being able to even sing. A man who found himself near a dumpster one day and took scraps and built a custom made amp that would define the sound of his band, an amp that he himself invented and no one has been able to exactly duplicate even now. A man who got married young to the only woman he wanted and then had six children while touring and playing with one of the biggest most popular bands in history. Who can do math so well,he did, and still does, the financial business of the multimillion dollar business that his band became. A man so amazing he just left the entire music industry forever without one regret after losing the lead singer, best friend and surrogate big brother from a heart breaking disease because it just wasn’t worth it without him. A man who’s baselines are so epic and well played that his skill is hard for anyone to imitate. He was told as a prank by his fellow band mate he would need a double bass for a song and went home and learned how to play it in a matter of hours. Played not only the bass guitar with unbelievable skill and precision but any instrument. He wrote some of the most famous songs in rock that are universally loved even now more than 25 years later. He had so much integrity that even after doing the lion’s share of the writing of a song insisted his band mate who would sing the songs, take writing credits even when that singer didn’t really want to. Who was the very definition of loyalty to a lost friend who he saw as irreplaceable and refused to continue playing music without him while the others carried on. He seemed quiet, shy and unassuming but when he wanted to do something didn’t care what ANYONE thought including his band mates even during one recording session for an album picked up his stuff and went to Bali with his family on a whim leaving only a small note behind. Who came up with one of the most recognizable bass lines ever in an impromptu jam session with another artist, went out for pizza with his band mates and completely forgot said bass line then when reminded made the bass line so legendary it’s immediately recognizable from the first four notes. He wrote a song that Michael Jackson the king of pop pestered the other members to release it as a single when they were completely against it and after the single debuted became one of the best selling singles of his multi million album selling band. Who has mastered the art of being a hermit yet also being one of the coolest and most extraordinary humans that ever strapped on an instrument. Who has become the best player of hide and seek that ever was and was happy leaving it behind never once looking back.

Every single one of these guys could have been unbelievable and legendary all by themselves, but chose and found three other equally god-like humans to form a band who would become the most prolific band that ever recorded music and has multi-platinum records in every country on 6 continents in the world that are still as popular and relevant today as they were when they started 50 years ago.

WHO GAVE THEM THE RIGHT to be so amazing?!Individually, they could be Greek mythical heroes as accomplished and great as Achilles or Hercules, but when put together were more epic than any Greek mythology could even imagine, and changed the world, and music forever!

Who gave them the right?!!!!

[liam-93-productions]

Liam Payne is on the cover of Esquire Middle East's June 2019 issue

The One Direction star was photographed on a rainy day in London

During the shoot, Payne opens up about the media's obsession with romance rumours

"Most of what you read online about me is straight BS" says Payne

It’s raining in West London. Every weather man, woman, and app had forecast that sunshine would be on the agenda for the day. But no. It’s raining. So, we’re stuck inside instead.

Alternating between balancing on a set of dumbbells (...) Liam Payne doesn’t seem to mind all that much about the weather. He’s used to plans changing pretty quickly.

“I’ve found in my life at the moment, because of the way things have happened, that everything’s kind of fast-forwarded,” says Payne, his dark eyes lighting up like those of a prospector that’s just panned a nugget of gold, “everything has fast-forwarded.”

Payne’s lived pretty much his entire life on fast-forward. He had his first X-Factortelevision appearance at the age of fourteen. He embarked on his first world tour with a little band named One Direction—you might have heard of them—only four years later. The band sold more than 50 million albums worldwide, and had four albums debut at number one in the US charts. (...)

As Payne ambles about the studio, it’s hard not to notice that even the tattoo on his forearm bears a striking resemblance to the fast-forward button on a television remote. Or a Spotify skip button.

Having recently performed alongside Rita Ora at the Global Teacher Prize concert in Dubai, Payne looks healthy and tanned, kissed by the sun even though his visit to the region was greeted by weather not dissimilar to today’s overcast conditions. “I think the weather’s just following me around at the minute,” he says with a laugh as abrupt as the first half of a hiccup. “There’s an air of something almost Vegas-y about Dubai,” adds Payne, “everything’s a little bit of a show there.”

Payne is no stranger to bit of a show. As well as having spent the better part of a decade touring the world with One Direction (the band is currently on a definitely indefinite hiatus) Payne helped break a concert attendance record in the Middle East last year by performing in front of 110,000 people. “I didn’t eat anything at dinner beforehand because I was thinking no-one’s going to turn up,” he admits.

To make Liam Payne nervous certainly takes some doing. Back in 2009—when ambitions of winning X-Factor as a solo performer were still very much at the forefront of his mind—Payne sang in front of over 29,000 fans as part of the pre-match entertainment of a game between his local football team Wolverhampton Wanderers and Manchester United. A pretty heady experience for a boy not yet old enough to drive a car.

Now 25, Payne knew from an early age that he could “hold a tune”. What it took him longer to realise was that others couldn’t. “I think I thought it was just a normal thing that people could get on with,” he says with a shrug. That may well have been the case when it came to his local theatre group, but when considering most of the “normal things”that people “get on with”, we’d hazard a guess that the majority don’t involve amassing over two billion streams on Spotify.

But that’s Liam Payne for you: unassuming, self-effacing, and—for the most part—a guy who seems just genuinely happy to be here. It’s easy to forget when deliberating the merits of Linkin Park’s nu-metal masterpiece ‘Meteora’ with Payne that his face was once plastered on the bedroom walls of millions of tweens the world over.

Payne’s achieved extraordinary success in the quarter of a century he’s exhausted so far. So much so that you’d expect the moment that sparked off his passion for music to be equally spectacular. A real spontaneous Kevin Bacon dancing-in-an-abandoned-warehouse sort of epiphany. The reality is that it wasn’t romantic or sexy in the slightest. It was karaoke. “I used to go out to Cornwall and see my grandad and we’d always go to this karaoke bar and we’d sing a load of different stuff,” says Payne.

What sort of “stuff” does a future pop-star sing in a karaoke bar in a small town on the west coast of the UK? Well, the same oeuvre that you or I are have probably crooned into a microphone at midnight at Lucky Voice: ‘Angels’ by Robbie Williams.

While Payne isn’t ashamed to admit that he was listening to Williams pretty much 24/7 as a youngster (“No, I really was”), one of the first CDs he bought with his own money was an Eminem record. Growing up with both Robbie Williams and Marshall Mathers as his idols, he places his own sound as “somewhere in-between the two”.

A little bit Slim Shady and a little bit Rock DJ, that intersection of pop and rap is reflected in Payne’s solo career so far. His debut single, the catchy-as-the-plague earworm ‘Strip That Down’, featured Migos alum Quavo and went on to be certified platinum in both the US and the UK. The title track of his First Time EP also saw Payne join forces with rapper French Montana. Payne’s certainly not the first popstar to align themselves with a more urban sound in an attempt to appeal to an older demographic. Nor will he be the last. The transition from squeaky-clean boyband member to fullyfledged solo artist is, after all, anything but easy. To use a Take That comparison: for every one Robbie Williams, there are a hundred Mark Owens.

When it comes to One Direction, it’s still a bit too soon to tell who the Robbies and the Marks of the bunch are going to be. “When we did the band stuff it was very—not exactly scripted—but let’s just say you kind of knew your audience very well,” says Payne. “We’d usually sell a tour out before we’d even done an album. And then they [the record producers] would go: ‘Right, you’re doing stadiums’. And then you’d go: ‘Okay, so we need longer choruses—the kind of songs that people can chant in a stadium’. You had to kind of write around the tour.”

If that process sounds a bit paint-by-numbers, that’s because—by Payne’s own admission—it was. “It’s a very backwards way to do it,” he admits, “obviously people don’t really tend to write like that. But we just had no time, so it was like: ‘Quick! We need another hit and another and another!’ It was actually easier to write in that scenario because there were so many hoops you had to jump through. It wouldn’t necessarily be my choice of music now—it wasn’t something that I would listen to—but I just knew how to make it, if that makes sense?”

Going from such a canned bop formula to a world of complete creative freedom is a daunting prospect for anyone looking to make it as a solo act. But that was far from the only challenge Payne faced. Streaming services like Spotify and Apple Music have drastically altered the music industry since the phone-to-vote days that launched One Direction. “The way that the industry kind of works now is kind of a difficult one because of the way albums are and the introduction of Spotify,” says Payne. “When I was in the band, Spotify wasn’t really a thing for us, we didn’t really care. We used to sell a lot of albums and physical copies, so it was different for us. As I got more into the solo stuff it was a kind of, like, a bit f**king confusing.”

All you need to do is look at the chains that Payne draped around his neck during the releases of a series of sophomore singles to see a man adopting a kabuki mask that didn’t quite fit. A man who was, in his words, a bit f**king confused. “‘Strip That Down’ was amazing and I was really happy with the success of it—but it didn’t necessarily paint the right picture of me and who I actually am,” he says, “I always found, to start off with, that with a lot of the chains and the clothes and the fashion, I was kind of hiding behind something. We did a billion streams for ‘Strip That Down’ but it still all gets a bit heady and at a certain point you’re like: ‘what the f**k am I doing here?’ It’s a bit like being stuck out in deep water and you’re just going ‘well, it would be really nice to get back now.’”

Payne might still be far from the shore, but he seems to be treading water at a more comfortable pace nowadays. “It took me a long to get my head around it,” he says (...)

And where is Liam Payne now? Well, he’s sat in front of me looking comparatively anxiety-free: comfortable and relaxed in a plain black tee and pair of tailored HUGO trousers. “My style and my fashion sense are all quite laid back now because that’s kind of the way I am as well. I don’t feel the need to hide behind the clothes anymore. I feel I can finally be who I am and enjoy myself.”

The last few years have witnessed a real boy-to-man transition for the ex-boy band squaddie. A coming-of-age moment came when he arrived at Frank Sinatra’s house in Palm Springs to record his part of ‘For You’ with Rita Ora. A crooning, finger-snapping, rather embarrassingly-waist-coated rendition of ‘Fly Me to The Moon’ was what Payne sang to get through his first ever X-Factor audition. Walking into Old Blue Eyes’ home, for Payne, came with the realisation that he’d “made that complete full-circle journey”.

Suffice it to say there’s no turning around for Payne in that journey when it comes to the fame front; he’s well in the thickets of the tabloid jungle. Headlines about who’s “breaking silence on romance rumours” with the popstar are a daily occurrence in the British papers. So too are accompanying photographs of his face. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Payne has, after all, got a rather nice face. The latest use of which has seen it become the face of Hugo Boss’s latest HUGO menswear line.

“To be honest, they called me and it just seemed to make a lot of sense at the time. It was a direction that I knew I’d love to go down,” says Payne on how his partnership with the brand first came about. “It’s very rare that a big company like Hugo Bosscomes around asking for you to be the face of it. It’s a bit of a dream come true actually.”

Previous Hugo Boss ambassadors include the likes of Chris Hemsworth, Jamie Dornan and Gerard Butler. Handsome faces. Familiar faces. Faces that are now forever immortalised in the public conscience. A fact that Payne is all-too conscious of himself. “I was looking through the different people that they’ve had on their roster over the years and they’re all people that I look up to,” says Payne, “So, I’m obviously quite excited but it’s also a bit daunting because these things,” he spreads his arms in a gesture that aptly sums up the rigmarole of press junkets and interviews, “are literally around for forever now.”

Moving from location to location and outfit to outfit, it becomes evident that dressing to hide who he is, is no longer on Payne’s agenda. As he’s grown (both figuratively and literally) in the public eye, and Payne’s now come to accept the lane he’s in. “I’ve become more in tune with things now,” he says, “as the years go by, I think you gain a different level of confidence and find out what works for you and what doesn’t, rather than constantly trying to be something that you’re not. If that makes sense?” It does.

What makes less sense is why Payne decided to go with chains in the first place “It was quite funny at the time when everyone used to get really mad about it,” he says referencing outraged headlines like: Sleepy Liam Payne leaves a London studio wearing a HUGE gold chain. “It just didn’t really matter to me.”

What matters to Payne is when those stories affect the lives of those around him. One particular article published in the British newspaper, The Daily Mail, last year that attempted to insinuate he was romantically linked with a member of his team irked Payne so much that the usually apolitical Twitterer took to social media to criticising the newspaper.

“The difference with that story was that the people that they were putting me with have families, boyfriends, girlfriends,” explains Payne, “I go home every night and know that people write horses**t about me daily. I won’t worry about it because I know it’s f**king bulls**t. But for someone who’s never had a story written about them before? If they go home and their partner’s reading the paper going like: ‘what the f**k is this?’ It’s difficult for them to be able to explain that.” Payne’s voice ratchets up a few decibels when he says this. He uses more than a few words we’re not legally allowed to print. I can tell that he cares about this. That it needles him. That it’s not something he has to say, but rather something that he needs to say. So, I let him.“I asked for this, I get paid very handsomely to be here and it’s part of my life and I get it. It’s alright. You can write what the f**k you want about me but when it comes to other people who work with me? That is not on.”

The only way for Payne to cut through that noise is by doing the thing he knows best: making music. “Everything I do is very, very public a lot of the time. I get reported on a lot for different things. I just think there’s a certain line where I have to have my say. And that there’s only one way for me to do that—which is through my music.”

(...)

Communicating as a public figure becomes increasingly difficult when navigating the glut of information that exists online. Do a quick Google search for ‘Liam Payne’ and you’ll be greeted by countless fan sites with a never-ending litany of “facts” about the man. Facts like:

“Liam Payne prefers showers over baths” “Liam Payne sleeps naked” “Liam Payne has a phobia of spoons”

While Payne is quick to assure me that most of what you’ll read online is straight B.S., one fact did keep cropping up again and again. And I mean, c’mon, I couldn’t not ask him about the spoons, could I?

“Yeah, I did have a fear of spoons,” he groans with the weariness of a man who’s been pelted with countless pieces of cutlery, “but it wasn’t so much a fear as something that’s now turned into a thing because of the internet. I was forced in detention once to wash up dirty plates and spoons and I think it just put me off looking at how dirty some of these spoons came back. But people used to throw spoons at me in concerts! I should have said I had a fear of pillows—that would have been comfier.”

All things considered, a fear of spoons is a fairly harmless rumour to spread. But rumours rarely ever are. Most are vicious; spreading like wildfire and burning all of those they touch. “I’ve been dead,” says Payne abruptly. “People I love have been dead.”

The non-stop 24-hour nature of the news cycles can be overwhelming to read, let alone to be involved in via the announcement of your own death. “You have to learn fast and we [One Direction] had to grow up pretty quick in the circumstances that we were under or else you kind of f**k it a little bit,” he says. If you’ve ever seen clips of The Beatles or BTS getting mobbed on the streets, you know the kind of hysteria that can ensue when boyband members are seen out in public.

“I don’t think I struggle in the sense of what you would naturally think of when I’m walking down the street with every person stopping me,” says Payne, “I mean, it happens sometimes but it’s mainly mentally where you struggle with it. It’s the getting ready and always knowing that you might be photographed.” From elaborate airport fits to the loungewear he puts on to pick up a pint of semiskimmed milk from the shop down the road, there’s never a moment where Payne and his clothing aren’t in danger of becoming front page news.

One of the ways that Payne combats that simmering anxiety is by going for a run at 5am every morning. It’s probably why he’s been able to maintain his sanity so far. And probably why he’s in—as evidenced by his numerous topless Instagram photos—such great nick.

“I love it. I get myself outside and into the day and get past that fear of ‘what if this happens?’ or ‘what if that happens?’. Because, for a long time, I became—what’s the word?” says Payne, gesticulating wildly as if he’ll catch the phrase careening around his head like a runaway wasp, “there’s a word for this condition where you stay inside and never leave, it’s in Ocean’s Twelve…”

I saw Ocean’s Twelve last week. The word he’s looking for is agoraphobia.

“Yeah, that’s it. I developed a bit of agoraphobia. I would never leave the house. And I do sometimes suffer with it a bit in the sense that I’ll get days where I just don’t want to leave my house. Even if it’s just going to the shop. I’d be going i to order a coffee at Starbucks and I would sweat because I wouldn’t know whether I was doing the right thing or not. I would be thinking: ‘f**k, I don’t want to be here’.”

I worry for a moment whether Payne is feeling that same feeling today but decide instead to take likely misplaced solace that my innate knowledge of the Ocean’s film franchise has won him over.  “I even used to have a really bad problem with going to petrol stations and paying for petrol. I can feel it now—it was like this horrible anxiety where I’d be sweating buckets in the car thinking ‘I don’t want to do this’.”

Many people suffer from moments of panic and instances where we feel crushed by the weight of  the world’s expectations and Payne is all-too aware that his specific anxieties stem from a position of privilege. “Unfortunately, it does happen to everybody in this industry,” he says, “I think at a certain point you just have to get over it as quickly as you can.”

There we are once again: back to doing things quickly. Back to being on fast-forward. Back to doing countless interviews in specifically allotted time slots. Back to that constant pressure where “everything happens a little bit quicker in my world than it does in everyone else’s”.

Everything might be happening a hell of a lot quicker for Liam Payne than me, but I’m still interested to know: what’s next for the man? What does he want to achieve in the not-yet fast-forwarded future? “I’m hoping for something a lot more than what I’ve done so far, if that makes sense?” Having listened to Payne’s solo discography in preparation for this interview, it really does.

Sure, Payne’s produced a spate of bonafide bangers—songs that will have you singing along as you whip down Emirates Road—but they’re also songs that are, for the most part, still formulaic. They’re catchy, glossily well-produced, yet contain something of an air of inauthenticity about them.

And, having met Payne, I can’t help but feel they seem at odds with his unabashedly authentic self. As he tells me: “People can see right through that s**t and it’s difficult for you to then go and say ‘buy this record!’ if you don’t really believe in what’s going on.”

So, what does a man who’s (sort of) afraid of spoons actually believe in? Moreover, what does a man who eats ice cream with a fork want to be remembered as having believed in? “I’m obviously really happy with some of the stuff I’ve done. Like breaking world records with the band and all sorts of amazing stuff. But in the recent years, it’s been a bit topsy-turvy with me kind of finding my way. And I’d rather not be remembered for a lot of those things. I want to make a really amazing album that’s not, like,” and he air-quotes here, “important, but something that people really get into. Something that makes certain people feel a couple things. I think that would be the best thing for me. I just want to make people move, if that makes sense?”

In case you haven’t already noticed, that question (‘if that makes sense?”) is practically punctuation to Payne. It’s a caveat that ends many of his statements; an interrogation of his own beliefs and a moment where his PR armour reveals its chinks and offers a glimpse of the man beneath the surface. A man that is equal parts cocksure and uncertain—a man who’s very rarely both and almost never neither.

While he might be living on fast-forward—and shows no signs of slowing anytime soon—Liam Payne, for the moment at least, might just be in the midst of the most interesting time of his life. His legacy is currently being written, awaiting the day we’ll eventually look back with a clearer idea of whether he’s a Robbie Williams or a Mark Owen. As for me, I’m just hoping that the next evolution of Liam Payne’s career is a lot more Liam Payne than the last. If that makes sense?