#he also might had overheard things from the ghost fight

[bluerosefox]

Masks and Moonlit Night

-Crashes through DPxDC window and sticks a new AU sticky note down on everyones foreheads-

ANGER MANAGEMENT MASQUERADE BALL AU!

Jazz is forced by her parents to go to all Masquerade ball at Vlad's, whose using Jazz as both a way to keep Danny in line (as well as Jazz, basically Danny can't fight back or he'll hurt Jazz and Jazz can't fight back because he'll also hurt Danny who he has locked up at the moment) and to 'impress' the elites (As much as Vlad wants to use Danny for the party he knows the boy would do something to embarrass him in front of them, he at least knows Jazz will keep her manners in check) with how intelligent his goddaughter is.

During the ball, Jazz (in a stunning dress and mask, think like manhwa worthy outfit tbh if you want) meets Jason (who lost the Bats/Birds most recent 'Not it' game and was made to go with Tim to Vlad's party) and both hit it off when they meet in the garden, under moonlight, both wanting some fresh air.

Jazz wants to enjoy her time with Jason but worries about Danny and thus tries to leave and figure a way to help him without tipping Vlad off she was trying to save her brother. However she notices she's being watched by some ghosts Vlad employed and no doubt would report her should she even try. So she kinda uses Jason as way to keep them being unaware of her planning... or at least that was the case until she noticed another Team Phantom member sneaking into Vlad's place and knows its only a matter of time before her brother is freed.

Within the hour she gets a text from Danny who tells her, he's out and gonna fight Vlad for locking him up, that Dani is with him too so it'll be double beat down and that he'll come get her soon.

She is pulled away from the text when Jason asks what books she likes to read and now with the weight of her brother needing to be safe, or as safe as he could be, is lifted off her shoulder she answers.

Its magical, its wonderful, and for a moment Jazz is able to actually enjoy this party, ignoring the pained hits Vlad was no doubt receiving from what she can hear with her liminal enchanced hearing, because talking to Jason, or J as he introduced himself as, was very fun and wonderful and wow he was very handsome even with his mask and-

Jazz is startled out of her wondering thoughts when she could hear someone in the party scream, no doubt Danny, Dani, and Vlad's fight probably bleed into the main hall and she could see people starting to run out.

Jazz sits on the bench as Jason goes running in, no doubt curious as to what is happening and going to get his 'brother' Tim who he came to the party with out. Jazz takes off her mask and sits it down the bench and waits before Dani appears and says they should get going, Danny is keeping an angry Vlad busy and that she can take Jazz home.

By the time Jason comes back, with a researching on his phone Tim, all he finds of the charming woman he met at the dumb ball he got dragged to was her mask on the bench.

[igotanidea]

Home : bat!family x bat!sister

Summary: no one gets to offend my siblings and father. No one but me. I'll make sure of it.

***

Maybe it was a bad idea to apply for that Erasmus program and leave her brothers and adoptive father alone for whole three months. Sure, studying abroad, expanding knowledge, learning language and customs was an amazing experience, but it came with the cost. The price of being in fear that her family would get themselves in trouble, pain, fight they could not recover from.

The first two weeks of her adventure was the worst, since she was waking up at most random night hours, ready to jump into fight, those vigilantes instincts and habits kicking in.

Those were the nights when she was turning and tossing in her bed unable to close an eye and in result sneaking out her dorm room and walk around the campus like the ghost. The quietness and peacefulness of her surroundings at the academy were so different from those she knew in Gotham, it was almost disturbing.

There was no denying that Y/N was the smartest in the family, even Tim admitted it once (obviously not while talking to her, but she overheard his conversation with Bernard) but at times like this she was second-guessing her choices.

Due to her specific upbringing and family background she also never managed to form any deep connection with her fellow students, preferring to stay by herself, focus on the task and putting a lot of work into expanding her knowledge and skills in technology. She never complained, but from other people’s perspective she was an eremite. Kind, polite with perfect manners when someone asked her for something or while working in group, but still highly reserved. Just like her adoptive father, whose relation to she was trying to keep a secret. And it worked up to the day when one of the lecturers accidentally called her  “Miss  Wayne” in front of the whole class. The second he did it the air in the auditorium froze. She might have been in different country, but for God’s sake she was studying technology, of course everyone heard about the Wayne Enterprises and the  Bruce Wayne.

“You’re his daughter?” one of the boys in the lower row turned around and eyed her suspiciously

“Yes. Adoptive one.”

“Of course. He’s well known for taking kids in, right? Seems like some sort of complex or maybe even a disease” he smirked and it made the girl clench her fist. Her relationship with Bruce might have been rocky, but no one except her and her brothers were allowed to judge and offend him.”

“Care to elaborate on that?” she hissed, eyeing the guy with ice cold gaze

“Miss Y/L/N! Mister Olsen! Please calm down and sit down!” the teacher tried to make up for his mistake but it was far too late for that.

“You misspelled my name once, might as well keep calling me Wayne now.”  the tone of her voice matched the gaze. She was not going to let the guy easily, but getting in trouble with the dean was not a part of her plan. “Now, can we continue with the lecture? I don’t know about anyone else in her, but speaking for myself I would love to actually learn something useful.”

***

Y/N was the middle child. Younger than Dick and Jason, older than Tim and Damian which placed her literally halfway  in the family. Because of that she was a mix of responsibility and carelessness, doing her own thing, not always the right way, but still capable of getting away with a lot more than the others. Not as family oriented as Dick, feeling a bit overshadowed by Jason, highly competitive with Tim and more independent and individualistic than Damian. Still, even despite her “boss bitch” attitude, she was sandwiched between her brothers which made her the best negotiator and mediator in the family. Y/N also had a strong sense of fairness and morality and would always try her best to do the right things. Objectively, not subjectively. And making fun of her family was not one the things she could forget. However, before taking any action she had to gather intel, figure out what the guy knew and then come right at him.

***

Waiting till the end of the class was probably the greatest torture she ever had to endure, every minute stretching into infinity and when it was over the sense of relief almost made her drop the plan. Almost.

“I’m not done with you, Olsen.” she was faster to the door, stopping her potential victim from getting away.

“You want more, Wayne?”

“Please. Hit me with your best shot. What is your problem with my family, exactly?”

“Let me think” he tapped his chin. “There are so many. Like for instance, your oldest brother. What was his name again? Oh, right! Dick. Suits him quite well, doesn’t it. A prick, if you ask me. Definitely a show-off with no skills.” He scoffed “Shall I continue?”

“ Please. You got like three more people to gossip about.”

“The second in line, Jason, right? Oh, the unhinged  one. Violent, mocking, thinking he is better than anyone else around, when in reality he’s just a lost, scared child. Probably a dumbass too.”

“Pretty sure he would agree with that. Now what about Tim and Damian?”

At this point Olsen was getting a bit surprised that the girl in front of him was still unfazed. Her calmness, a sign of silent inside fury making him slightly uncomfortable.   Not enough to stop however.

“Drake…..” the name rolled of his tongue while the boy was wondering what words to choose “oh, he’s the gay one, right? Such a shame that the renowned Wayne family has someone like that as a member. Bet your father would never take him in, if he knew. A fairy becoming the next CEO of his renowned company. How ironic!”

“Hm.” Oh, Y/N was so much like Bruce at times and it showed in the least expected moments.

Damn that girl! How could it not make her angry?

“And …… Damian, the only biological child. Absolutely maladjusted and unaware of social norms and boundaries. Tell me, how was it like to have your youngest brother violate your boundaries and personal space?”

“It was. ….educatory. Just like it was with everything you just said. You presented yourself as someone with some serious psychological issues and possibly an unhealthy interest in my family’s life. So thank you, it truly was illuminating.”

***

“What the hell did you do Y/N?” a very alerted Dick appeared  on the other side of the screen

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” The girl sighted and fell onto the cushions bringing the computer onto her lap to see her brother better

“Don’t lie to me now, sis.”

“I wouldn’t even dream of it.”

“Bruce has been on the phone for the last fifteen minutes and from what I figured it’s about something that happened on the campus.”

“The only thing happening on the campus are students who skip classes.” She mumbled “maybe except that one time when one of the boys lost some stupid bet and blew up the fountain as some sort of punishment. That was funny.”

A little grunt was heard on Dick’s side and for a second he disappeared from the screen.

“Dick?”

“Sorry, I had a little interruption.” He rubbed his forehead “Now, back onto what you did…..”

“Did you say that someone blew the fountain?” third face appeared on the screen in the corner, taking over the conversation.

“Hello, Jason.”

“Hi sis. Maybe I should have joined you in your academic career. Seems like you have a lot of fun there. Besides, I never really finished school, since you know…. I died.”

“We know.” Y/N and Dick said in unison

“Always a good opportunity to remind you, right?” he grinned “Now, sis, tell me, how was it going full rogue on fellow student? I gotta admit I’m proud of you here.”

“So that’s what this is about?” Dick’s eyes grew wider than ever “I;m gonna ask you once again, Y/N. what did you do?”

“Nothing permanent.”

“What…..?”

“Cut her some slack, Grayson.”

“Look who decided to join us.” Y/N smirked “improved your computer skills much, Damian?”

“I got tired of being left out.”

“Since when do you care about the group?”

“Leverage, sis. Knowledge is power, I thought you knew that.”

“Ok, that is enough!” Dick finally lost his patience “I’m trying to have a conversation with my little sis here. Both of you, get out of the line!”

“Mhm, keep dreamin’ Dickhead.”

“For once I agree with Todd.”

“You have no right to…..”

“Guys…..” Y/N tried to mitigate them, but deep inside she enjoyed their bantering. It was a while since she experienced it and only now realized how familiar it was.

“I was here first!” Dick yelled “And I’m the oldest”

“No one cares Grayson! You are a Bludhaven resident now.  Just because you visit the manor does not mean you can keep Y/N busy using the wayne’s devices!”

“Don’t you have someone to kill in the crime alley, Jay?”

“Unlike you, I succeeded in all my latest missions.”

“Is that what you call coming back to your safe house bloodied and injured. You were on the verge of death!” Damian smirked “you were absolutely inept, that’s not a success.”

“You were what, now?!” Y/N shrieked. Her second oldest brother was sometimes too careless.

“It was not that bad, Y/N, I swear. And how the fuck do you know about it, demon?”

“I have my ways.”

“I would suspect Drake of spying on me, but you?”

“Speaking of the devil, I’m surprised Tim hasn’t already join us.” Dick muttered

“Oh, he did.” Y/N pointed out

“WHAT?” her brothers cried. Now there was another one fighting for her attention and it was not a secret that Tim was her favorite making the situation harder.

“I did.” Tim chuckled  “Well, to tell the truth Y/N let me in the channel. We have our ways with technology. Something none of you could ever fully understand. “

“Of course not….”

“Cheer up, Dami. You can’t monopolize all the areas.”

“I would beg to differ.”

“Ok, everyone hold up here. I think we lost the point of the conversation. The thing was that Bruce was on the phone, probably taking to the dean about….”

“Y/N played a little prank on her classmate, is that right?” of course Tim was the one who everything best.

 “He deserved it.”

“Y/n…..”

“Stop using the big brother voice on me! It’s not going to work!”

“How about we use Damian’s youngest one?” Dick teased

“I refuse to be used in this….”

“SHUT UP DAMIAN!” Dick and Jason shouted together and shared a murderous look between one another. Now they were both desperate to find out what happened since Tim would rather die than spill the bean. It was infuriating. They were the older brothers! This had to mean something.

“Ok, that’s it.” Damian stood up and the view of the empty chair in the place where his face should be was highly disturbing.

“That is not good.” Y/N said out loud something that all of them already knew. Her presumptions turned out to be right a second later when the shouting and yelling reverberated through the speakers and a blur of black and green rushed into Dick’s room.

“hey, I want to join the fight too!” Jason started up and with a speed, Wally West could be jealous of involved in the mix of limbs and screams.

“Wait! I though Dick was in Bludhaven! Tim?”

“Not today. We’re all in the manor.”

“And you idiots were talking to me through four different computers?”

“Are you actually surprised?”

“On second thought, not at all.” She sighed. It’s a good thing you are the reasonable one here…..”

“There you are, Timmy” now the situation has turned as it was Dick who appeared in the door of Tim’s bedroom “you are not  getting out of this. If you want Y/n to yourself you have to fight me.”

“And me!” Jason tackled Dick to the ground with a loud thump

“Losers!” Damian jumped over their bodies and came right at Tim

Because of their actions, Y/N was the only one who noticed two men stepping from the shadows and exchanging some words. Apparently Bruce wasn’t capable of putting the boys in their places and asked Alfred to try this instead. And a single grunt from the butler did a miracle as all of them stood up and started explaining and apologizing. Funny as it was, Y/N knew that with Bruce’s arrival she was heading straight towards preaching from her father.

“Y/N.”

“Hello Bruce.”

“Did you break his arm?”

“You broke his arm?” Dick was halfway out but turned back immediately

“No.” Y/n shook her head “I broke his arm and hurt his legs.”

“Don’t forget that you also demolished his dorm room.”

“That wasn’t me. That was….”

“Did you go at him as a vigilante? Wow! Way to go, sis. Now I truly am proud of you.”

“Ok, both of you, out!” Bruce lost the rest of his patience pushing Dick and Jay away. “Now that we are alone…….” he sighed deeply closing the door tight  

“I;m not sorry.”

“Oh, I know. And I’m not mad, because I’m sure you had a reason to do it. So tell me, why?”

“you…. you want to know ?”

“Of course. Look Y/n, I’m aware I won’t get  a father of the year cup from you, but I care all right? Did that boy hurt you and you took retaliation? Just tell me….”

“He was talking shit about our family.”

“And you felt the urge to protect the Wayne’s honor?” Bruce smirked “this is so not like you.”

“Honor, my ass. We’ve lost that ages ago, Bruce. The only thing I was protecting was my sole privilege of mocking you. No one else is allowed to do it.”

“I’ll be sure not to tell your brothers that you miss them. “

“That would be most welcome.”

“And you have to know that we don’t miss you either, y/n.” father and daughter’s gazes met and they both nodded in silent agreement, right corners of their mouths lifting almost unnoticeable. “You coming to visit next week?”

***

Something was wrong.

Something was terribly wrong and that tingling sensation became unbearable the second she climbed the manor’s stairs and reach for the doorknob with a heartrate so fast it would send anyone else straight into cardiac arrest. Y/N however kept her cold blood, focusing on what may happened inside and considering her options and strategies for a potential fight.

She could not expect  that the moment she opened the door four figures would jump out from the shadows making the noise that would bring the dead from behind the grave. It startled her and as a result she stumbled back, hitting the wardrobe and making it shake. She could not expect that on said wardrobe there would be packets and packets of paint and that those would fall down straight on her making her look like some abstractionism painting.

“I hate you all.” She muttered while her brothers run away in four different directions.

“Welcome home, miss Y/N” Alfred approached her with a tissue so she could at least wipe the paint from her eyes.

“Home.” She whispered “Yes, it definitely feels like it.”

It was good to be back.

But she was still going after them. .....

Later. When they would least expect it.

[thebenjiblackwoodexpress]

Snow Drop Part. 7

Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader

Description: After Y/N's rejection, Jaecerys fears he has lost his love forever unaware of the true nature of her feelings. Meanwhile Y/N struggles to stay away from The Prince she secretly loves, having faced heartbreak before. Can an overheard conversation get Jace to fight for her love?

Warnings: female reader.

Writer's note: Sorry it's been a while. I had this written ages ago but work and just life in general got in the way of me posting it. Hope you enjoy reading it.

Jacaerys became a ghostly shell of himself in the days that followed his disastrous profession of love to his lady. He rebuked himself for having believed that she could have returned his feelings, having clearly only viewed him as a friend. She was far too beautiful, too sweet, too incomparable. By imposing his affections upon her he had spoiled any chance of remaining in her orbit, even if only in the capacity of a friend. He felt her absence like a cold shard of ice through his heart and sometimes convinced himself that he saw her, as if she were a ghost of a memory dancing in his periphery. Dark circles formed purple bruises under his eyes from lack of sleep and he was unable to lift the feeling of a pressing weight on his heart at all times, as if the wound to it from her rejection was a palpable thing he carried with him always. The pain he felt at the loss of her, both as a friend and as the Princess of his heart would not cause him to intrude upon the distance she had imposed upon him. Nevertheless, he could not resist from leaving snowdrops in books he thought might interest her in the library, leaving them placed on the open pages for her to find. He told himself that such a gesture should not displease her, even if she knew that if was he who left them. She did so love those flowers and he would much rather imagine her delicate fingers brushing the petals of them, than the flowers lying in a forest, unseen by her. He never stayed to see if she would come across his gifts. He had enough strength yet to allow her space away from him, though it pained him to acquiesce to it. The absence of the flower from the page on the morrow was an intimation that she had been there and had cared for his gift, even if she did not care for the sentiments it expressed. Whilst the thought of her touching the flower and being pleased by it gladdened his heart, almost as if she were touching his hand with her own, it also saddened him. His lady disappeared with the morning light just as the flower did; as if she had never existed, except in his mind.

It was with these painful thoughts oppressing him that Jacaerys pressed a kiss to his fingertips and then to the flower he had left open on a book on the history of Targaryen dragons for his lady. The hour was late and he knew he should leave on the chance that she would enter the library and be disturbed at the sight of him, so he turned to leave. He had only begun to walk back to his chambers from the library when, turning the corner, he was met with the at once welcome and alarming sight of his lady. Only too welcome, given how long he had been deprived of the sight of her beauty and sweet presence, but alarming as he noted the tears glistening on her cheeks. Without any forethought, he immediately reached out to her, raising one hand to cup her face, and another to take hold of her elbow, gazing into her eyes with concern.

"My dearest love, what is the cause of your distress? Are you unwell or hurt?"

To his surprise and concern, she only closed her eyes, wincing as if in pain, before attempting to push him away from her. Believing her to be injured, he maintained his hold on her, wrapping an arm around her waist, determined to assess the cause of her pain before he released her.

"I know, I know," he hushed her, "I will release you as soon as you tell me where the pain is. I can only help you if I know what has befallen you."

She pushed his chest halfheartedly with her palms, as if unsure whether she wanted him to release his hold on her or melt into his embrace. Her head fell to rest on his chest, as if in spite of herself, and she mumbled into the velvet fabric of his tunic.

"I hate you for this," tightening her grip on his tunic as she said so, pressing her head more forcefully into his chest.

Jacaerys closed his eyes, wincing himself, as he drew in a sharp breath, her words lancing through him like a knife. It pained him immeasurably to know that she not only did not, and would never, return his love for her, but also that his very presence was so hateful to her. Her tight grip on him, however, convinced him that she still required comfort, so he wrapped her in his arms more securely, rubbing her back up and down tentatively.

He lowered his head to rest upon hers, whispering disconsolately, "I know, I am sorry for it, I will leave you as soon as you are calmer."

To his surprise, she only tightened her grip on him further, crying harder into his chest, so that he began to grow really alarmed. Raising one hand to gently cup her head, he pulled her away from him slightly to look into her eyes.

"Darling, you begin to really alarm me. What can have distressed you so much and how can I remedy it?" he asked frantically. "Has someone harmed you?" he added, his eyes darkening and his voice growing steely as he mentally prepared to dispatch the offender who had upset his Love. When she only shook her head, after returning it to rest against his chest, he tentatively enquired, in a softer voice, conveying his trepidation at her answer, "Is it me that distresses you so, my Love?"

He received his painful confirmation when she released a sob, which caused an acute pain in his chest, believing himself to be the cause, before she forcefully pushed him away from her and ran from him before he could stop her.

Unbeknownst to Jacaerys, his lady was suffering his own absence as acutely as he was hers. Believing that she was doing what was best for them both, she had forced herself to push away the only man she could ever imagine opening her heart to, locking away her own love for him as she did so. Her days had been as equally listless, her nights as sleepless as Jacaerys, overwhelmed by a feeling of loss that his absence filled her with. She was determined, however, to maintain her distance from him, even if the flowers she knew he left for her had her almost breaking her resolve. Each night she would take the flower he had left on the open pages of books he knew would interest her, her heart warming painfully at the thought of his kindness and attentiveness towards her and her interests. She carefully pressed each flower into a book of stories her mother had given her as a child, preserving them as memories of her lost love, telling herself that she could allow herself this one foible. It was the questioning of a maid she had grown friendly with that had caused her to break down into tears. She had good naturedly teased Y/N for her interest in the Price, asking her why she had been avoiding him of late when she had previously seemed so taken with him. Y/N could only take so much of her teasing before her repressed pain brimmed forth in her tears, and she made to seek out the repose of the library, where she could at least feel close to him in remembering the time they had spent together there. She was alarmed to practically run into the arms of the Prince, but found herself unable to release her hold on him as he tried to ascertain the cause for her distress. His tender concern and genuine alarm at her distress only made it that much harder for her to reject his tender touch, as he tried to comfort her, and she found herself unable to release her grip on him. His tentative suggestion that he was the cause of her distress, although not in the way he imagined, and that he should leave her, led her to give into desperate tears, as she held onto him like a lifeline. It was only at his unintentional reminder to herself that it was the impossibility of her being able to return his feelings that led her to push him away from her, though it hurt her to do so. She was pained at the thought that her repeated rejections of his advances caused him discomfort, but she reminded herself that men's love was fleeting and he would recover from them to rule over the Seven Kingdoms, where she could lose all if she gave in.

Several more days had passed, though not without Jacaerys attempting to catch his Love when he passed her down the hallway on his way to the Council room one day. She had quickly sidestepped him when he had attempted to enquire into her wellbeing, and he had forced himself to allow her to walk past him, without any further enquiry on his part. His internal turmoil at the loss of his love and over her own evident distress, which he could not remedy, being the cause of it, continued to manifest itself in outward signs. His mother even began to grow concerned for the state of his health, though he was quick to assure her on the point and to brush away her concern.

Jacaerys now made his way to the library, earlier than he was wont to do, planning on retiring early that evening, if only because the only sight he could now have of his love was in his dreams. He turned behind a book case filled with books on natural history, searching for a book on flowers that his lady had not read, raising his hand to reach for one volume, before the sound of two voices arrested his motion. He stood, frozen in place, as he heard the voice of his Love.

"I won't be long, Margery, I only wanted to find a book I was interested in reading."

A feeling of contentment washed over him at the sound of her voice, although he also knew that the sight of him might startle her from her search, so he resolved to remain where he was until she had collected her book.

"I don't know how you can read so many, it's that Prince of yours whose responsible. You think of nothing else but him."

Jacaerys felt his heart stop at the sound of the maid referring to him as Y/N's Prince. His own heart already belonged to her, but the thought that she might view him as hers had a spark of hope alighting in his heart.

"He is not my Prince, Margery. Don't say such things out loud, someone might hear you and misunderstand. I don't think of him all the time."

He felt the spark of hope diminish as his lady spoke, turning into cinders.

"I'm no fool, Y/N. I've seen the way you both look at each other, like you're the only other person in that one's world. I used to find it difficult to get you to shut up about him and now you won't speak of him at all and avoid him as if you were afraid of him. Did he do something to you?"

"No! He would never harm me, he is a gentleman and a true Prince."

The other maid's words had caused him to grip onto the shelf opposite him in restrained pain. The thought that he would ever harm his love was horrifying to him. However, his lady's impassioned defence of him had his heart soaring. That she should think so well of him still filled him with hope that he could hope to renew his friendship with her if he was careful not to let his true devotion to her run away with him.

"Why do you avoid him so then? You'd think you hated him."

His lady's next words had his heart stopping altogether before it continued to beat urgently, the sound of it resounding in his ears as his breathing quickened and a smile upturned his lips.

"I don't hate him! I love him!"

A moment of silence passed before Margery responded.

"You...love him?"

Y/N responded in so quiet and soft a voice he had to strain to hear her, holding onto her words like a lifeline.

"I do, and it is precisely because I love him that I have to avoid him. He is a Prince of the Realm, the Heir to the Iron Throne, and I am only a lowly servant girl. It could never work. It is for the best that I avoid him."

He closed his eyes tightly shut, rebuking himself for not realising that his lady did return his feelings and that it was really only her fears regarding his intentions that were preventing her from telling him so. He should have been more assiduous in urging the seriousness of them.

"Has he made any improper advances towards you, Y/N?"

"He would never do such a thing, I do not wish for you to view him so harshly. He told me he loved me and that he wanted me to marry me."

"What?! And you said no to a Prince's proposal!? Are you mad?"

"Don't goad me, Margery. Yes, he did everything properly, but he is still a man and a Prince no-less. It would not be the first time a man has professed his love for me, only to retract it later. I have already told you of this. I thought Christopher loved me, that he would marry me, but he only wanted one thing and when I would not give it to him he proved just how foolish I was to trust in the word of a man."

Hearing his Love speak of her fears and her experience of her love being misplaced in that bastard, he wished that he could hold her to him and reassure her that he would never be so careless with her heart. His promise of love to her was solemn and unbreakable, he would never love another. He struggled to repress his anger with the man she spoke of for breaking her heart and making such demands of her. He resolved that he would kill him if he ever encountered him, his hand clenching around the book shelf he had been holding.

"I know, Y/N, but not all men are like that braggart. You have spoken to me often enough of how honourable and gallant the Prince is. Have I not sworn that if I hear 'Prince Jacaerys is a true prince in every manner of the word' one more time I will have to have an intervention with you?"

Jacaerys found himself smiling again at this, delighting that his lady should think so highly of him. He only hoped that she would see him as her Prince too, not just a stately figure she admired from a distance. He would close that distance entirely if he could.

"Yes, yes, I know it and I will not deny that the Prince could not be further from Christopher. I do believe he is in earnest about his intentions towards me, but I cannot trust that he will remain earnest. More than that, how could I claim to love him if I would willingly jeopardize his claim to the Iron Throne by tying him to a lowly servant girl? I love him far too much to do that, even if it pains me to reject his love. Do you not think it hurts me to avoid him, when I would much rather be with him always?"

He felt the wind taken out of his lungs from her declaration. His heart swelled with even more love than he felt possible for a human being to contain within themselves at her selfless concealment of her love for him, in her desire not to hinder his passage to the throne. She could not know that he could only imagine ruling with her at his side. It pained him to know that she thought so lowly of herself, when he thought she was the epitome of perfection, the most beautiful girl in the world, the Princess of his heart. At the same, he was filled with new found determination to convince her that he would never waver from his love for her. He had already resolved to love her forever, if only in silent resignation at her indifference. Now that he knew she felt the same way about him, that she wanted him too, he would not rest until he had succeeded in assuring her that he was hers and hers alone, if she would have him.

"You are more selfless than I would be in the same position, Y/N. I don't envy you. I must ready the Princess Rhaena for bed now, so I will leave you to it. Don't stay up too late, I worry about you. You haven't been sleeping or eating much. If you are to reject the Prince, can you not also neglect your own health."

Margery's words felt like a sharp rebuke to him, as he cursed himself for not having realised the true cause for his lady's distress. His concern for her wellbeing was only surpassed by his determination to ensure that he was never so careless again, not now that he knew she loved him. He would assiduously care for her all the rest of their lives together, if she would permit it. He grew restless for Margery to depart so that he could convince her that such was the case.

"I won't, don't worry. Thank you for worrying about me Margery, you are a good friend."

Jacaerys waited until he heard Margery's retreating footsteps and her close the library door, before he emerged from his hiding place, making enough noise in the hope of not startling his Love too much. She looked up from the book she had opened before her in alarm, as she met his gaze.

"My Prince! How much did you...what did you hear?!"

"Everything, my Love. I am sorry for listening to your conversation but I could not help overhearing."

As he spoke, in a gentle voice, communicating the tenderness he felt for her within it, he took slow, measured steps towards her.

"I am only sorry that it took me overhearing your conversation to understand the reason for your distress. I hope that you will forgive me for my carelessness in not realising before and that you will allow me to renew my proposal of marriage once again. I urgently entreat you to believe that I am most ardent in my love for you and in my hope that you will consent to be my lady wife and my Princess."

He had nearly approached her, reaching out towards her with his arms, as if to embrace her, before she ran from him behind a nearby table. He could not altogether repress a smile at her antics, as she moved to the other side of the table when he moved to walk around it.

"You needn't run from me, my Love." Smirking, he continued in a teasing tone. "Did you not say that you thought me gallant and a Prince in every sense of the word?" He inwardly rejoiced at the blush which arose on her cheeks as her mouth parted in shock at his words, and he took the opportunity of her surprise to move further round the table towards her. Reaching to clasp her hand in his, he added, "I would be your Prince, if you would only have me."

Coming back to her senses, she quickly withdrew her hand and Jacaerys' face fell as she turned and ran from him. He would not stand by, this time, as the only woman he would ever love fled from him again, not when he knew that she loved him too, that she wanted him, if she would only allow herself to put her faith in him. He was determined that if she wanted him, she would have him. With renewed determination, he ran after her, quickly catching up with her. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he turned her towards him. As she raised a palm to push against his chest, he pressed his own hand firmly against her hand, sliding her hand up to rest against the place where his heart beat frantically against his chest.

"Do you not feel how my heart beats for you and only you, my Love. It has only ever been you. My feelings for you are unalterable, as unshakable as the foundations of Dragonstone. I would lay my life down for yours, hold you in my arms when you are happy or sad, care for you when you will not care for yourself, and protect your heart as I would do your person. You are the Princess of my heart and I would have you be the Princess of the Realm too. Please believe me when I say that nothing would bring me greater happiness than for you to accept me as your husband who only wishes to adore you for the rest of our lives." Seeing that she was relaxing in his hold, gazing up at him as he spoke, he continued determinedly, in the hope that she was really beginning to believe in his earnestness.

He spoke even more softly now, as he approached the next sensitive issue he was urgent to address. "I know that that blaggard was unfaithful to you and careless with your heart, when to me it is the most precious thing in the world." He looked into her eyes intently, urging, willing her to believe in him. To put her faith in his love for her. "I vow to protect your heart. It is the only prize I covet. No throne could compare to your love. I believe that I would have found and loved you had we met in any other life. We would always have found each other. I feel as if there were a string tethering your heart to mine. It can never be broken on my end, but I will release you now if you believe that you cannot place your faith in me or my love for you."

He pressed her hand more firmly to his heart as he finished speaking, praying and willing that he had said enough to convince her of his love for her.

He was foolish not to have seen that he would need to convince her that he had always viewed her as an equal. Whilst proud of his noble House and fiercely loyal to it, Jacaerys saw all members of the Queen's household, whether noble or not, as deserving of the respect owing to those loyally serving the true Queen in whatever capacity they could. His own insecurities about the nature of his birth and place within House Targaryen aside, he did not believe that those who were not from noble Houses were therefore inferior. Though unconventional, he did not anticipate any strong objection to his match with Y/N from anyone who mattered to him. It distressed him to think that his lady may have believed his intentions to have been different to those he would have had towards a noble lady, but he was determined to prove to her that this could not be further from the case. She was always a Lady to him, noble or not, and he would find a way to make her believe this.

He watched in anguished anticipation as several emotions flickered across his lady's face, before she looked up to meet his gaze. He momentarily stopped breathing as she slowly raised her other hand to his chest, before sliding both hands from his chest to rest upon his shoulders.

"You earnestly mean to say that you love me and want to marry me? Even though I am no Lady, just a lowly servant girl?"

He placed both hands on either side of head, lowering his forehead to rest against hers.

"You are, and have always been a Lady to me. You have never been lowly, nor do I consider any other soul under this roof to be who serves the true Queen. We each have our role to play in service to the Queen, and you have performed yours admirably. Though, I would have you give up that role for a new one as my Princess, should you assent to it. I earnestly entreat you to believe that I mean what I say when I say that I love you more than words can say and that your assent to my proposal of marriage would make me the happiest man alive."

His eyes were closed, fearing that he had not done enough to convince her, that she would still reject him. He let out a shuddering breath when he heard her next words, music to his ears he had scarcely have imagined hearing.

"I will put my faith in your love and your promise then. You already know that I love you too, and I think too highly of your honour to believe you would not safeguard my heart if you say that you really mean to do so."

He was so elated at her words, so grateful for the trust she had placed in him, when he now knew that she had been wounded in the past by misplacing her trust that he wasted no time in pulling her head and waist towards him. Wrapping his arms around her, he attempted to remove any physical distance between them, to enwrap her in an embrace that would signal to her how carefully he intended to safeguard her person and her heart. Breaking away from her slightly, he bent his face towards hers, placing a gentle kiss on the side of her jaw, watching her reaction carefully to see if his affections should displease her. Watching her eyes close in contentment, as she tilted her jaw towards his lips, he continued to place tender kisses to her jaw, before looking into her eyes for the permission he sought, glancing at her lips. As she wrapped her arms around his neck and lowered her gaze to his lips, he crashed their lips together, pulling her, with one hand on her waist and another cupping her head, towards him. He could hardly contain the joy he felt at being able to finally hold the girl he loved in his arms, to feel her soft lips moulding with his, and her arms around his neck. Breaking the kiss so that she could catch her breath, he placed one more tender kiss to her throat. He panicked, however, when he felt her arms loosen around his neck and her weight sag, wrapping his arms around her back and waist to support her weight against his.

"My darling, are you not feeling well?"

To his relief, she only pressed her head against his chest and mumbled into his tunic.

"I am well. I just felt a little lightheaded, I don't think I was breathing."

Seeing that she was not fainting, and noticing a blush creeping onto her cheeks, as she once again buried her face in his chest, he could not repress a slight smile. He directed his gaze away from her so as not to embarrass her, as he said his next words.

"Do you think you can walk, my Love?"

When she shook her head against his torso, he placed an arm on the small of her back and another underneath her knees as he swept her up in his arms, delighting at the little cry of shock his love emitted at his sudden gesture. She quickly wrapped her arms around his neck, even as she scolded him.

"What are you doing, my Prince?"

Smiling indulgently down at her, he pressed his forehead to hers for a moment before saying in a teasing tone, "your Prince is carrying his Princess, since you have owned that you cannot walk yourself. If I had known that kissing you would have you swooning in my arms I might have attempted it sooner." He laughed in amusement as she covered her hands with her face and pressed it against his shoulder.

"There is no need for embarrassment, my Love. You have the same effect on me." He dropped his teasing tone, investing his words with the tenderness he really felt towards her, as he pressed a soft kiss to the crown of her head, and began to walk her back towards the library. Holding his love in his arms, he felt that he could scarcely contain his joy, having never believed it to be a possibility. The Prince and his Princess spent many long hours afterwards, catching up on the time they had spent apart. As they talked and laughed through the evening, Prince Jacaerys did not for a moment let go of his Princess, continuing to hold her against him on his lap. Now that he had won her heart to him, he was reluctant to release her from his embrace, still fearing that this would all prove to be but a dream. Happily, Y/N seemed as reluctant as the Prince to leave his embrace, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, placing her head close to his heart.

[kiss-theggoat]

Familiar

Ghostface (Billy Loomis) x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: You've been having a shameful relationship with a certain Woodsboro slasher. One night, during a particularly passionate encounter, you discover who it actually is you’ve been spending time with.

Warnings: Smut, you don’t know you’re fucking Billy so I guess elements of non-con

“Guys come on! So what if I’m a virgin, I mean it’s normal!” Randy sat on the concrete ledge, fighting for his life against the vultures that are Stu and Billy. They cackled and fist bumped, turning back towards Randy to listen to him dig himself deeper into the virginity hole.

You overheard this conversation as you walked towards the group, lunch tray in hand and backpack slung over one shoulder, making it ache. Stu and Tatum sat furthest to the right, as usual, on top of eachother, kissing and touching, Tatum sitting on his lap. Then Sydney to their left, then Billy beside her, chewing on some apple slices Syd had brought. Randy sat furthest to the right, a few feet away from Billy. You strode over, plopping down between Billy and Randy. “What’s everyone arguing about?” You asked with a smile, also silently questioning if your school chicken sandwich would give you salmonella.

Stu laughed, tossing a chocolate in his mouth. “We just figured out that ol’ stunner Randy Meeks here is a virgin.” He threw a candy towards Randy, making him swat it away and flip Stu off. You were conflicted. You could take Randy’s side and say you were too, but that’d be a lie. If you said you weren’t a virgin, then everyone would ask who you’d slept with, because you told Syd and Tatum that you were a virgin. They’d know it happened recently, and you couldn’t exactly tell them you’d been meeting with a certain ghost-faced serial killer.

You shrugged. “Me too.” With a sneer, you peeled the bun back to reveal a questionably pink looking breaded piece of chicken. “You want this?” You held the burger out to Stu, who snatched it up and began to scarf it down like he hadn’t eaten in a month, which left you with a few bland, soggy french fries.

“A-HA!” Randy pointed an accusatory finger at Billy. “Told you! Totally normal to be a virgin. Just cause you're used to seeing movies where every single teenager is having sex doesn’t mean that-“

“It’s not the movies, Spielberg.” Billy interrupted. “Most of the people I know - in this school - aren’t virgins.”

You made eye contact with Billy, just now realizing that he was staring you down, deep brown eyes burning holes into yours. Trying to play off how nervous you were around him, you rolled your eyes. “What’s the big deal, Billy? Being a virgin isn’t embarrassing.”

Billy dropped the apple slice he was eating, leaning closer to you. Something in his eyes looked right through you. It looked like he knew all of your secrets, every little thing you’ve done in the dark. You tensed and backed up, biting half of your cardboard-like fry. “What?” You asked defensively, trying to get him to back off.

He didn’t say a word for a few seconds, staring at you with the same blank expression. “You’re really a virgin, huh?”

Did he know? How could he possibly know? Did EVERYONE know? You started to panic internally, but kept it cool on the outside. “Yes! I don’t know what the big deal is. Just because I haven’t found someone yet doesn’t mean I’m a loser or something.”

“Yeah right! You’re a total loser!” Stu yelled, finishing your sandwich. “I can’t believe a hottie like you is a virgin! Maybe you and Randy can fuck, get it over with.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you. You threw a fry at him, but it missed him, unlike Tatum’s slap on the chest, “Ugh, Stu don’t be gross.” She whined.

Randy’s face was bright red. You always thought he might have a little thing for you, but you’d pretty much had your eyes on Billy ever since high school started. You were glad to be his friend, but when he started dating one of your best friends, Syd, you couldn’t help but be consumed completely with jealousy. She knew you’d had a crush on him a little bit, and still dated him. You convinced her you were over it. Girl code, y’know?

“I’m not rushing to not be a virgin. I’m fine with it.” You said matter-of-factly and ate another fry. Billy scoffed, leaning back against his hands, which earned him a glare from both you and Sydney. You had no clue why he was being so rude about this, he couldn’t know. The bell rang out, signaling both the terrible start of your Algebra class and the blissful end of this conversation. “See you guys later.” You mumbled, taking your tray with you as you left.

The alarm clock beside you read 12:36 AM. You had been reading next to your lamp at your desk for a while, procrastinating your homework long enough to where it hopefully disappeared. With a yawn and an ache behind your eyes you decided it was bedtime. As you stood up to turn your lamp off, you jumped at the sound of your phone ringing. Your body had an immediate response, like Pavlov’s dogs. A phone call late at night usually meant a visit from your favorite ghost.

You picked up the line. “Hello?” You asked, a small smile tugging at your lips as you mindlessly chewed on your fingernail.

“Hi pretty girl…” his sultry voice had you hot in your cool bedroom, cheeks turning pink. “Your blinds are closed. I thought I told you to keep those open.”

“Sorry.” You said softly. “It was hot today…” you walked towards your curtains and moved them to the side, standing in the window.

A hearty chuckle sounded from over the line. “There she is…wearing my favorite shirt…good girl…”

You looked down at the tank top you had on, pink, simple, but low cut and revealing. Perfect for bed and, apparently, Ghostface. With it, you wore a pair of plain black lounge shorts that fit loose around your thighs.

“I’m in a hurry tonight, princess so get to it.” He said quickly, “Is the window unlocked like I told you?”

You nodded, big enough for him to see from his usual spot in the yard. You decided to listen to the man, getting to work. You set the phone down for just a second, quickly taking your shirt off. You had no bra, so he had a full unobstructed view of your tits he loved so much. You picked up the phone again and heard a small groan from him. “Attagirl…”

You shimmied your shorts off your legs, pleased that you had worn panties he liked, your girliest ones, purple with a little gemstone heart on the waistband.

“It’s almost like you knew I was coming, pretty girl.”

You bit your lip, leaning in closer to the window. “Come inside already…” You whispered needily, voice almost trembling from your desperation.

One minute your yard was empty, normal. The picture of suburban bliss. The next, it was overtaken by the shadow of a brutal, ruthless killer, threatening aura filling the whole yard. He should scare you, but your body had a visceral reaction to him. Face hot, skin tingling, panties wet. You wanted him every single night like you’d never wanted anything before, and seeing him was like lighting a fire in your chest. It was borderline humiliating how bad you needed him.

You slid the window open, screen discarded weeks ago, and you waited with vibrating skin. You watched his gloved hands grip the window sill, strong arms pulling him up into your childhood bedroom. Maybe that was part of the appeal. He was so forbidden, having a secret relationship in your home with a man like him was so hot to you.

There he stood in all his glory, black boots heavy on your white rug. He was on you in seconds, hands wandering, grabbing your tits hard with one, the other pushing your panties down. “So wet already.” He growled. His voice close-up was weird, but something you’d gotten used to. You knew he was using a voice changer, it crackled very once in a while and you could hear another voice in tandem with his deep, modulated one. His real voice. You couldn’t hear it well enough to know who it was, but you liked hearing it anyway.

You nodded, breathless, backing up to your bed while pulling him at the bicep with you. You laid back, and he slid your panties off the rest of the way, slipping them into his back pocket. That made your face flame red. The fact that he wanted to keep your wet panties was insane to you, made you feel hot, made you feel wanted. It made you feel like he needed you as bad as you needed him.

“Please…” you whined, pulling on his cloak as he stepped between your legs.

“Needy, huh? Such a pretty girl shouldn’t be acting like such a slut.” He snapped, but you could hear the smirk in his voice. His gloved hands trailed up the smooth skin of your inner thighs, stopping at the apex to admire the way you looked in the low warm light of your bedroom.

He slid his glove off, something he’s never done before. You looked down quickly at his hand, but a firm grip on your jaw slammed you back down to the bed. “No peeking, princess.”

You nodded, finally feeling his skin on yours. His touch felt so much better than the rough material of his gloves. Based on the glance you got, his hands were big, but smooth. Something you didn’t expect from him. You expected rough and dirty hands, not soft and manicured fingers.

All of your pensive thoughts were scrambled when you felt his finger push inside of you, quite easily with how wet you were at this point. He groaned at the feeling of your warm insides, eager to be inside you. A second finger slid in beside the first, curling upwards against the soft spot he knew got a reaction from you. You tensed, legs spreading further with a whine at his touch.

Warmth spread over your legs and belly, up to your chest and face. His fingers squelched as he fucked them into you, curled upwards at every right moment. Your bedsheets felt so soft against your hands as you gripped onto them, eyes closed and mouth open, wanton moans escaping you. While you weren’t focused, he slid a hand underneath his cloak, palming himself through his jeans.

He grumbled something softly, something you didn’t hear.

“Huh?” You asked, that small word the only thing you could muster between moans.

“Wanna taste you.” He said louder, grinding his hips into his hand. “You're gonna be a good girl and keep your eyes shut, okay?” He asked, but you felt a threatening undertone present in his words. You nodded quickly, but whined when his fingers left you. You felt yourself clench around nothing,feeling empty without him inside you.

You shut your eyes tightly, hearing him move to the window to shut the curtain. Your hands were clammy as they pressed over your eyes, you had to make sure you wouldn’t peek. You wanted to see what he looked like, but didn’t want to end up in the paper as the newest Ghostface victim.

For a minute, you waited, then suddenly, an eruption of pleasure as you felt his mouth on you, tongue running up your clit, hands pressing your thighs down against the bed. Without even thinking about it, your hands flew down to grip his hair. He didn’t seem to mind. You tried to gather what little information you could from the feeling. He felt sweaty, but his hair was soft, a little bit longer. But that’s all you could gather. You scrunched your face to emphasize the fact that your eyes were closed.

He sucked your clit into his mouth as two large fingers pushed inside of you. You let out a loud moan, mouth hanging open and back arching up off of the bed. “Holy shit…” you moaned, tightening your grip on his hair. He groaned, squeezing your thighs tight with his bare hands, to your delight, both gloves were off. He was becoming way more comfortable with you.

You felt yourself get close, you felt tingles on your thighs and up your waist, all the way up to your arms. Your whole body felt like it was on fire, you felt so good and you couldn’t think straight. At that moment, you wanted to see him. You needed to know who he was. Desperately, you wanted to kiss him.

“I’m…I…” you whined.

“You’re gonna cum?” He asked, voice breathy with small pants. You tensed up. His voice changer wasn’t on. He sounded so familiar but you couldn’t put your finger on it. It was bugging you, but you couldn’t focus on it too long as your orgasm overtook your body, gushing over his fingers and legs trembling as a damn near shriek left your mouth. You felt like you couldn’t see, your ears were ringing and you felt like you had just been beat up. You decided to look. You had to. His voice. You knew him.

You opened your eyes to see the man you’d been fucking the last few weeks. His lips and chin glistening with your cum, face flushed and soft pants escaping his plumped lips, hair sweaty and tousled from your pulling, falling in front of those gorgeous brown eyes.

You couldn’t believe it. You stared in shock. “….B-Billy?”

[five-rivers]

Chance and the Community Chest

@bellsandmischief phic phight phic!

.

“I don't know, Tuck.”

“Come on, Danny.  You said it yourself.  There's not much else to do on a Friday night since ghosts trashed the mall.  And the arcade.  And the theater.  And the mini-golf course.  And the bowling alley.  And the ice rink.  And the roller rink.”

“You don't even like skating.”

“And Floody Waters.  And the park.  And the Nasty Burger.  Both of them.  And the McMasters.”

“We wouldn't be able to hang out in a McMasters anyway.”

“It's the principle of the thing.  The park is closed, too–”

“The park isn't closed.  It's just that the Amity Park New Religion Convention is happening there.”

“Do you really want to go to the park when it's full of cultists?”

“I don't know that it's fair to call them cultists–”

“One of the groups literally calls themselves the Coalition of Universally Lateral Thinkers.”

“No.  That has to be a joke.”

“It isn’t.  I've looked them up.  They've got some kind of Scientology-level crap going on.  They're convinced that you can astral project yourself to the Ghost Zone and travel to other realities that way.”

“Well, I mean, you can, but–”

“Wait, what?  Stop.  Stop walking.  What do you mean, ‘you can?’  Are you saying that astral projection is an actual thing?”

“Yeah?  Is that not what I said?”

“Right.  So.  Should we, uh, stop them?  Is that why you've been so weird about coming?”

“I haven't been weird about coming.  I've been questioning your decision to bring a dozen binders full of rules for a game when we've never been here before.”

“Excuse you, these are the latest Dragonpath PDFs that I got for the low, low price of free.  And there are thirteen of them, not twelve.”

“Yeah, and then you made up the price difference by making color copies.  Seriously, Tucker, I think community board game night is more like Monopoly and Scrabble, not, uh.  Something with fifty pounds of rules.  And no board.”

“Actually,” said Chance Counter, unable to resist butting in despite his eavesdropping being quite successful so far, “‘board game’ in this case is more shorthand for– What is that?”

He’d been listening in, but he’d thought the teens were exaggerating, as teens tended to do.  Nothing had prepared him for the enormous stacks of white plastic three ring binders.

“Fifty pounds of rules for Dragonpath,” said the white one, deadpan.  He was the one carrying most of the books.  “Weren’t you listening?”

“Oh,” said Chance.  “Yeah.  Are you the only ones planning on playing… that.”  

“I wasn’t planning on playing anything in particular, Tucker just needed help bringing them over from his house.  I’d be perfectly happy with Monopoly or, I don’t know, that one where you’re building stuff on an island.”

“Catan?” suggested Chance.  

“Could be,” said the boy.  Thinking back on the overheard conversation, Chance was pretty sure his name was Danny.  

“I can’t believe it,” said Tucker.  “I’ve been abandoned.  Abandoned by my own friend.  Abandoned!  For what’s objectively the worst board game ever.”  He almost dropped the binders, but his friend shored up his stack with his hip.  

“What, why is Catan the worst?”

“Not Catan!  Monopoly!”

“Why is Monopoly the worst?”

“Because, as our dear friend Sam would say, it signifies and symbolizes the ultimate capitalist hellscape.  And also it causes fights.”

“I don’t think Sam would say that.”

“You don’t think I’d say what?” asked a girl who had just walked through the door of the community center.  “Oh, hi.  Are you one of the organizers?”

“I sure am,” said Chance, smiling.  “My name is Chance Counter.  We’re right in here.”  He gestured behind himself, into the room where he’d just finished setting up the last of the old folding tables.  He hoped they’d withstand Tucker’s massive tomes.  “You three are a little on the early side, but our regulars should start coming in soon enough.”

“You might get some extras,” said Sam, walking past him.  “Basically everywhere else is torched.  Ghosts.”

“It’s not only the ghosts.  There’s also the construction and the convention–”

“But it’s mostly the ghosts.  By the way did you see that one of the groups set up in the park has an acronym that literally spells ‘cult.’”

“Did everyone know this before me?” asked Danny.  He circled Chance and deposited his load on the nearest table.  It creaked alarmingly.  “How much math do you need to know in order to play this, anyway?”

“Less than Monopoly,” said Tucker, also dropping his binders on the table.  “Look, man, we can basically play Doomed with these rules.”

“Why would we do that when we can already, you know, just play Doomed?”

“Because we can do things that we can’t do in Doomed.  Trust me, it’s going to be great.”

Danny blinked down at the books.  “Look, I like a good TTRPG as much as the next guy, but this is a bit extreme.  Sam, will you play Monopoly with me?”

“Sure,” said Sam, sliding the box out from the stack of games on the central table.  

“Sam!  You were supposed to rail against the greed and corruption of capitalist states where monopolies are allowed to form!”

“I can do that and still enjoy a fictional monopoly,” said Sam.  “I get to be the race car.”

“I want the dog, then.”

“You two are horrible.”

“And our battle will be glorious,” said Danny.  “Should we wait for the other people, or will they not want to play Monopoly?”

“Oh, our regulars are very easy-going.  Most of them will go with whatever is set up, although we do have an RPG group that meets every other week.  They mostly play Eldritch Endeavors, though.”

Tucker groaned.  “I want the boot.”

“I sense a butt kicking joke approaching, but would you really kick a dog?  A doggy?  A cute little puppy?”

“I hate you.”

Chance heard the community center door open again. He poked his head back out into the hallway.  “Andrew!” he said, as the teens mumbled something about sense.  “Great to see you.  We don’t usually get you on the first Friday.”

Andrew, who was tall, thin, and sported a goatee, paused.  “The first Friday?”

“Lost track of the days, huh?  Well, might as well make the most of it.  We’ve got some kids setting up a game of Monopoly back there.”

“Yes, I suppose I might as well,” said Andrew.  He pulled off his coat, folded it over his arm, and stopped halfway into the room.  “You!”

“You!” replied Danny.  

“Chance, you really can’t allow this poetry-destroying hoodlum in here!”

“I said I was sorry!  And then you attacked me!”

“It was my magnum opus!” 

“Hey!  Hey!  This is a community game night,” said Chance.  “The center policy is that everyone is welcome here unless they start something here, okay?”

“What about restraining orders?” asked Danny.  

“Do you have one?”

“... No.”

“Then I don’t see how that matters.  Now, you don’t have to play together–”

“Oh, but I will,” said Andrew, pulling a chair up to the table.  “I’ll take any avenue to give this brat the beating he so richly deserves.”

“Oh, it’s on.”

“Uh, could we maybe tone down the smack talk as well?  Maybe to something that wouldn’t get you arrested when taken out of context?”

Andrew simmered.  Danny glared.  

“Hi, Chance, what’ve we got– What are you doing here?”

“Star?” asked Sam, incredulously.  

“Mikey?” asked Tucker, more incredulously.  

“Oh, uh, hi, guys,” said Mikey, shyly.  

Danny looked between the two of them.  “Did you guys not know that they’re dating or something?”

“How do you know that we’re dating?” demanded Star.  

“We’re keeping it secret!” said Mikey, horrified and loud enough that any secrecy was most likely moot.  

“Not very well.”

Star swallowed visibly.  “If you tell anyone–” 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, no threats during community game night, please,” said Chance.  “My heart can’t take it.”

“Who would we even tell?” asked Tucker.  “We’re social pariahs.  Hey, Mikey, how do you feel about Dragonpath?”

“Third edition is better.  And Eldritch Endeavor is better than all of them.”

“You’re dead to me.”

“Aw, Tucker, I thought I was dead to you.”

“Anyway, this is the first Friday,” said Star.  “Not RPG night.  Is this the set with the purse?”

“Don’t think so,” said Danny, peering into the box.”

“I’ll get it,” said Mikey, moving towards the stack of game boxes where the second Monopoly set was hiding.  “Is anyone the iron yet?”

“The what?” asked Tucker.  

“The clothes iron,” said Mikey.  “I like the irony.”

“Oh, you mean the useless technological throwback.”

“I iron some of my clothes,” said Sam.  

“Of course you do,” said Tucker, shaking his head.  “Of course you do.”

“I would like to play the game, now,” said Andrew.

Chance clapped his hands together.  “So, Danny, why don’t you start us off, since you were the first one in?”

“Mm, yeah,” said Danny.  “Let me just finish dealing out Mikey’s money.”  He set down a few more bills, then shoved them over to where Mikey had just sat down.  “Okay.  Dice?”  Tucker handed them over, muttering imprecations.  “And… seven.  That’s… one… two… three… four… five… six… seven.  Chance.  Erm.  Chance card, I mean.  So, let’s see here… ‘Take a walk on the Boardwalk. Advance token to Boardwalk.’”

There was a wave of quiet as Danny happily paid the bank four hundred Monopoly dollars and set the Boardwalk deed card down in front of himself.  He looked up.  “What?”

“Danny,” said Sam.  “This is nothing personal, but you know that we all have to destroy you now, right?”

Danny’s eyes narrowed.  “Bring it.”

[eldritch-araneae]

Hi there! Hope your having a good day ^^

I had watched TFE not too long ago, then someone suggested I come to your posts for TFE Bee analysis and observations- then I saw your response about with Optimus being controlled by GHOST, which had me thinking. If Optimus was controlled by GHOST, would that explain why he gave Bee the mission to look for Grimlock rather than telling him to go back into hiding. If he went back to hiding then GHOST would lose track of him, but sending him to that exact location under the guise of a mission meant that he was less likely to leave, would put in the effort to win, his strength was being drained and if/when he would eventually lose, there’s no reason for anyone to assume it was GHOST’s doing, even if someone found Mandroid’s stuff, because no one would know Mandroid is in Kahoots with GHOST.

IDK, could be wrong tho

Hello! First I'm very flattered that someone out there reads my thoughts about the show, I love analyzing it.

ES Spoiler under the cut!

Your idea sounds solid, bc I also find it suspicious why Bumblebee of all other Autobots (since he's not only one working undercover) was send there. He's a scout, not a warrior to fight in gladiator rings, even tho he can handle himself well.

Which also feeds into my suspicious that GHOST has a huge beef with Bee. Schloder was obsessing with him for a long time, and the fact that even fake dead didn't help!

And since we know about Optimus less we know about Megatron it feeds into more suspicions. But at same time there can be many possibilities why this happened:

Optimus being controlled or manipulated by GHOST like you said, it can be more direct or more subtle. Because Optimus got a tip about Grimlock's whereabouts, but we don't from who. So this could be a trap to begin with. A lot of mind games happening in there!

Also it's possible that Bumblebee took initiative himself! I won't be surprised that he didn't even reported to Optimus yet that he was discovered by GHOST, but to smooth things out and out of guilt he just overheard about Grimlock and went onto this mission alone. This makes perfect sense why he, a scout, went to fight in the ring, and it's so in his character!

Optimus being absent also can mean that he might working on better way to protect Cybertronians in secret bc GHOST is military - so Croft has all the power to prevent it. So no one can even know about this. Which is my the most preferred outcome, but its probably the least likely to be true bc how everyone in general treat optimistic and kind people ( example: all this weird "Optimus is naive" thing and forgetting that the core of this character is "being strong enough to be gentle", plus how horrendously Bumblebee was handled in idw comics). Even tho the progress was made by people who went "life has to be better than this".

[robininthelabyrinth]

Wei Wuxian{s obsessions get redirected to healing at a young age. He is still a chaos gremlin.

ao3

Untamed

“Do you know what they say about you,” Wen Qing said.

She did not make it a question, but Wei Wuxian beamed at her anyway, pretending he hadn’t heard.

“Do they say things about me, Wen-jiejie?” he asked. “Lil old me? But I’m just a humble healer –”

“They say you’re a demonic cultivator.”

“…they say I’m a what.”

“Mm,” Wen Qing said. “You see, apparently someone overheard some conversation that involved your plans to resurrect the dead.”

“Resurrect the – I was exaggerating! I’m a doctor! Everyone always makes that sort of claim about the really good doctors, saying that they’re so talented that they can raise the dead! No one takes it seriously.”

“Well, apparently they do, when it’s you,” Wen Qing said. “Find a way to deal with it, will you?”

“Well, fuck,” Wei Wuxian said. “How am I supposed to do that?”

-

“Hi there,” Wei Wuxian said, beaming. “You’re Mistress Wen, right?”

“…right,” Wen Qing said, squinting at the kid in front of her. He looked like he was of age with her little brother – he was wearing Jiang sect colors, but he definitely wasn’t Jiang Cheng, who she’d seen before. “And you are…?”

“Jiang Sect’s Wei Wuxian! I’m new!”

Ah, Sect Leader Jiang’s ward. Wen Qing had heard about him – his mother was the famous Cangse Sanren, his father a former Jiang sect servant, and they’d gone off and died before Wen Qing had a chance to ask them all the questions she had about the immortal mountain and what exactly it meant to be immortal. From a biological perspective, of course.

“A pleasure to meet you, young master,” she said politely, wondering what he wanted from her. Their ages were just a bit too distant for an actual acquaintance – for the best, really, or else her uncle and guardian, Wen Ruohan, might get ideas about marriage alliances. “What can I help you with?”

“You wrote an essay on improving common surgical procedures! I want to ask you questions about it!”

“You read that?” Wen Qing asked, surprised. She’d come to the discussion conference on the strength of that essay, which had been widely praised by doctors in the Wen sect, and she’d braced herself for having to fight for someone to talk to about it here – she knew she was young, and female, and a Wen, and none of those were things that made conversing with her peers in the medical world any easier.

She certainly hadn’t expected some snot-nosed brat to approach herabout it.

“Sure did!” Wei Wuxian chirped. “I told Uncle Jiang that it was amazing! I wanna learn to be a doctor, too!”

Uncle Jiang, Wei Qing thought. Amazing.

She could work with that.

-

“So I have some questions about some of your questions these past few years,” Wei Wuxian said, sitting next to Wen Qing in the back mountain of the Cloud Recesses. “And now that I have you in person, I’m not so easy to ignore. You know that, right?”

Wen Qing rolled her eyes at him.

“No, but seriously! What sort of problem are you trying to cure? The symptoms you mention in your letters are diverse as anything: headaches, qi deviations, excess yin energy…”

“It’s a long story,” Wen Qing said. “Also, secret. Like I’ve already told you.”

“I can’t help diagnose anything without full information,” he pointed out, irritatingly correct. “Much less help you come up with a course of treatment. Can’t you rely on my discretion as a doctor?”

“If I could, do you think I still wouldn’t have told you?” she snapped. “I’m not an idiot, and you’re brilliant. But I have orders not to spill anything about this, and I can’t disobey them.”

“All right,” Wei Wuxian said agreeably. Too agreeably. “Does this have anything to do with the ghost puppets the Lan sect ran into recently?”

Well, fuck.

“Better question,” he said, and Wen Qing braced herself. “Have you ever heard the phrase ‘Yin metal’?”

“Well, fuck,” she blurted out, and his smirk said everything it needed to.

-

“I can fix shijie,” Wei Wuxian said. “I’m a doctor.”

Jiang Cheng didn’t respond. He hadn’t been responding at all – typical trauma response, really. Wei Wuxian had taken his pulse a couple of times, not liking what he’d found; he knew Jiang Cheng was awake in there, but who even knew what he was capable of doing right now. Nothing sensible, that was for sure.

Wei Wuxian didn’t dare let him out of his sight.

He didn’t dare let either of them out of his sight – but Jiang Yanli had never been strong, her health always poor, and all this running in the rain without rest was wearing her down. Her fever was sign enough of that. If Wei Wuxian wasn’t as able a hand at acupuncture as he was, he would’ve needed to go to the market to buy medicine, and maybe he would’ve run into the Wen sect, ruining everything. They were being hunted, their tracks being closely trailed, their every move predicted in advance…

“I have an idea,” Wei Wuxian said suddenly, it coming to him in a burst of inspiration. “They’re expecting us to go to Meishan Yu or somewhere like that, right? To one of our allies? Let’s do the exact opposite of that!”

Jiang Cheng blinked at him, the entire process taking at least two minutes.

“Sometimes the most dangerous place is the safest,” Wei Wuxian added helpfully.

“…are you talking about Wen Qing?” Jiang Cheng asked. “Are you serious?”

Wei Wuxian was too busy celebrating the fact that Jiang Cheng was talking again to bother with his incredulity. It wouldn’t last – Wei Wuxian had talked him into plenty of stupider things before, and things involving Wen Qing had always been a particularly easy sell, given that Jiang Cheng had always had the most obvious crush on her.

“Less complaining,” he said. “More packing up. We’re going!”

-

“Obviously you’re not going anywhere,” Wei Wuxian said. “Jiang Cheng! You can’t just turn them away! Don’t you remember, Wen Qing and Wen Ning sheltered us when we escaped from the Wen sect!”

“I know that,” Jiang Cheng said, blushing bright red. “Even when you got your stupid self captured by the Wen sect, Wen Ning got us your location – do you think I don’t know that?”

“Not just that, he talked them into throwing me into the Burial Mounds instead of executing me directly,” Wei Wuxian said. “Right after I snapped the meridians in Wen Zhuliu’s arm – hard to be the Core Melting Hand without those, am I right? I wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d just impaled me on a pole right then and there!”

“I know, I know! You’ve said it often enough! But we can’ttake them into the Jiang sect – do you know what that would do to morale? We’re fighting a war here.”

“It’s fine,” Wen Qing said. “I understand entirely. We’ll make our way on our own…”

“Don’t be stupid,” Wei Wuxian told her. “Jiang Cheng, let’s take them as prisoners of war.”

“What?!”

“I’m serious! We can put them to work. You can’t tell me that morale wouldn’t improve having a doctor of Wen Qing’s caliber on side!”

“Having experienced what the two of you call a bedside manner, I’m not so sure about that…”

“It’s unnecessary,” Wen Qing said. “We don’t need help. I just need to find Wen Ning; I can do the rest myself.”

Wei Wuxian turned and glared at Jiang Cheng.

“…prisoners of war it is,” he said, yielding. “And I’ll have people search for him, okay?”

-

“Tell me you didn’t actually revive Wen Ning from the dead, Wei Wuxian,” Jiang Cheng shouted.

“I didn’t!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed. “I swear!”

“Then why does everyone think that you did?!”

“It’s a mistake! An innocent mistake! I swear!”

“I don’t believe you!”

“I’m going to smash your skulls together,” Wen Qing said sweetly. “And you’re both going to deserve it.”

“Mostly him!”

“Hey!”

“No, he’s right,” Wen Qing said to Wei Wuxian. “Mostly you, Yiling Patriarch.”

Wei Wuxian put his head in his hands and groaned.

[auroraphantasma]

Taxes, life and death and how little we think about it.

[ao3-link]

it was once in a blue moon and the recent Wes debate/discourse has inspired me, so here’s a phic!

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

Teenagers are self-absorbed things, they say.

Which is partially true. Teenagers are only as self-absorbed as any other generation there is. Older ones just like to shit on them more out of frustration, but the point is; everybody can be self-absorbed and each case can be a varying degree of it.

Children also tend to forget about things outside themselves sometimes. Like considering the immensely different life of their peers. It's like taxes to them. Nobody thinks about its existence until it's pointed out, then they spend an hour or so thinking about it and its effect on the world, then forget about it again until it's pointed out once more or come to the age when they need to deal with it and can't escape from it anymore.

Wes Weston was fourteen.

A fresh teen and with a huge personal beef with one Danny Fenton.

You see he was a normal guy. Taller than some his age, talented and sporty well enough to be on the school's very underappreciated, (fuck the football team), basketball team. He just had the misfortune to have a similar haircut to the town's ghostly vigilante, Danny Phantom.

First it was just light jokes by his team when they mused on that day's ghost fight. Easy back and forth jabs between friends where Wes pointed out how much more style he had than the ghost boy, because seriously? Who the actual fuck wears a spandex hazmat suit, beside the Fentons, unironically? It makes the table burst out hysterically, Wes included. 

Sure, others made jokes like these too, meaner ones too, but they were mostly from the football team so they didn't matter much even if they stinged a bit. Fuck the football team.

Then his life turns for the worst.

He catches Fenton transform into Phantom.

He thinks he might be mistaken, then he thinks about Phantom and what he knows of Fenton. A fuse quietly gets blown in his brain as he thinks more and more about it. The jokes, the similar voice; one of his eyes twitches as he fishes out his phone to look up a picture of Fenton and put a negative filter on it and get, a slightly off color, but otherwise identical picture of Phantom, confirming the identical looks, the fucking hazmat suit his family had seemingly infinite supplies of, the fucking D and P on his chest, holy shit he knew Fenton couldn't pass up a joke but is he for real??? And then that his parents' field of work, ectobiology. Ghost science. He might not know the exact details of it but it still made too much goddamn sense.

At dinner he said nothing. His father was swamped with work and tired as always and his brother Kyle was the biggest ghost skeptic on the face of earth.

So it festers in him all night.

Next day he couldn't bear it anymore, he needed to speak about it.

He tells his team, Fenton is Phantom.

They laugh at him.

They congratulate him on finding another target for the haircut joke. He gapes in disbelief.

But before he could find the end of his wits the football team crowds their table. They overheard what he said and while most of them were laughing at him as well, Baxter seemed to be agitated.

He slams the table and makes a joke of him while the rest of the football team keeps the rest of the startled basketball team from intervening. Baxter calls him a loser for even thinking of Phantom and 'Fentit' in the same sentence and finishes the interaction with a couple more threats and his own lunch dropped on top of his head, before he leaves. 

His team only makes an awkward cough and a poor attempt to cheer him up.

After lunch and a missed class to clean his own lunch out of his hair he decides to confront Fenton.

He corners him with his freaky friends at his locker. Fenton looks tired, with bags under his eyes and a bruise kind of showing on his arm.

His frustration with this whole day makes a clear appearance in his voice as he states what he knows and what he had seen. He complains about how his friends laughed at him and how the football team probably won't get off his case ever again. His voice is demanding even though he himself doesn't even know what he is demanding and Fenton-

-Fenton's face goes through a journey of a myriad of emotions before it stays blank. As he looks down he can see his fist clench and an eye twitch before his head snaps back up, his face now sporting a faux smile.

Fenton snarks back and even has the gall to make his eyes glow at him as he tells him nobody will believe his word.

So he storms off enraged.

This is the beginning of their archrivalry and his life gets even worse.

His reputation and friendships tank as time goes and he is adamant on not giving up proving the truth, this was personal now after all.

A joke rumor starts up that he tries to set up Fenton as Phantom so bad because he is actually Phantom.

He stalks him and gains more and more evidence but only grows as a joke in the eyes of Casper High.

Fenton keeps being a ghost, fights other ghosts and then makes fun of him the next day.

And so it goes on.

And then the school and the elder Fentons decide to keep a presentation on ghosts which the entire school is forced to attend.

And then, of course, it gets attacked by a ghost.

And, of course, then Phantom shows up to save the day.

And then, of course, Amity park's most infamous ghost hunters, the Fentons, attack him.

…

There might be a tad tension by the student body as Phantom plummets to the gym floor after being shot down by a bazooka and it really doesn't let up until the bleeding Phantom finally escapes them again.

He doesn't see Fenton again until the end of his next class.

He runs into him as he heads for his own locker and they make eye contact. He can't help but slow down, and glance over at him, brows furrowed, trying to see a show of bandages that might hide under his clothes.

Then the little shit makes his eyes glow as he winks at him and asks him how his last ghost fight went and Wes loses his temper and screams at him.

After all, it's like taxes. You don't think about it.

[todorokibois]

Brat - Katsuki Bakugo X Reader {M}

Disclaimer: Katsuki is aged up to about 21, as are all characters in my fics.

Genre: Smut (Dom/Sub themes, slight humiliation, Mistress, Bakugo is a brat)

Pairing: Katsuki X Reader

Words: 3,966

A/n: Came up with this idea while I was rewatching some bnha the other day, and I thought to myself, I think it’s time for someone to put Bakugo in his place. Thus, this idea was born. I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!

Summary: The one in which you’ve had enough of Bakugo’s shit and decide to teach him some respect.

He’s been pushing your buttons all day. Every time you would suggest a plan to capture the criminals you’ve been chasing, he would counter your ideas, or go off and do his own thing. The worst was when he stormed into the building by himself, yelling at the villains to ‘stop being such little bitches’ and fight him head on. To say you’re frustrated would be an understatement.

Due to his attitude in the past, many other agencies refuse to work with him, leaving only a select few you can count on. You’re just lucky you have friends in those agencies, otherwise hero work might be a little bit more difficult to come by, especially when he goes off on his own like this, ignoring your direct orders.

It takes you all twice as long to capture the goons this time due to him nearly collapsing the building they were hiding in, completely ignoring the fact that you told him to wait for backup. Eventually, you managed to catch up to him and apprehend the villains you’ve been after, giving them to the authorities shortly after capture. 

However, not only are you beyond frustrated, but you’re also embarrassed by how Katsuki has been acting lately. Given that you’re one of the top heroes working at your agency, your team is supposed to listen to your orders and follow them, especially when it comes to tasks like this. Katsuki, on the other hand, directly refuses to even acknowledge how you run things, which only makes you believe he has no respect for the agency’s code of conduct, nor you, especially when the two of you are at work. 

You’re sick and tired of it, especially since the two of you are supposed to be partners, in more ways than one. You can’t count the amount of times you’ve overheard people commenting on your relationship because of this. Enough is enough, and you’ve decided you’re going to do something about this. It’s like he doesn’t have any respect for your authority.

This won’t be for long, though. Not if you have anything to say about it. Someone is going to have to put him in his place, and you know just the person to do it. You.

When the both of you get back to the agency building, your superior gave you both a massive scolding. Katsuki received a larger one than you, but you were still told to get him under control, lest the two of you want to be out of a job. The last thing the agency wants is their approval rating to go down in the eyes of the public, and Katsuki is already dangerously treading the edge.

“It’s your job to keep him under control, (Y/n),” your boss scolds you once the two of you are alone in their office.

“Yes, boss,” you reply, a sigh nearly escaping your lips for the umpteenth time that evening.

“Now go home and get some rest, tomorrow’s another day!” They say, sending you a tight smile as you nod politely and leave their office.

You say nothing as you pass Katsuki, expression remaining blank as your eyes blaze in anger. If anyone saw you, they’d think you look quite normal, but one look into your eyes and they’d know how pissed off you really are.

He huffs and rolls his eyes as you walk passed him, arms crossed as he follows you out to the car, “what? I got the job done, didn’t I?”

The only response he gets out of you is a glance at him out of the corner of your already narrowed eyes, only causing him to click his tongue in annoyance, “what?”

Sliding into the drivers side of the car, you remain silent. Turning the keys, you register him sliding in the passenger’s seat, teeth gritting against one another as he clenches his jaw. He tilts his head slightly upwards, his nose in the air as he looks over at you from the corner of his eyes.

“Are you really going to ignore me now, dumbass?” He scoffs as you remain silent. “Fine, I didn’t want to talk anyways.”

Usually, you’d be cussing him out by now, voices raised as you argue your whole drive back to your shared house about what has transpired this evening. To say your silence is slightly unnerving to him would not be an exaggeration. He has a feeling that you’ll probably lay into him as soon as you get home, and that anticipation alone is eating away at him. Believe it or not, he can’t stand you actually being upset at him, and he can tell you’re furious.

Your grip is tight on the steering wheel the whole ride home. Every so often, you can feel Katsuki’s gaze drift over to look at you, though he still defiantly holds his head high. Each time you let out a tense sigh, he tenses slightly, waiting for you to blow up at him like he knows you can. 

The longer this goes on, the more nervous he gets. Did he finally go overboard? Will you forgive him this time like you have all the other times he’s disobeyed your orders? It’s not like anyone got hurt this time, so he doesn’t understand why you’re so upset. In fact, you should be used to this by now.

Each second that goes by with this tense silence lingering in the air feels like an eternity to him, and by the time you’re pulling into the driveway he nearly breathes a sigh of relief. As you’re unlocking the front door, he figures he’ll attempt to talk to you again, wanting at least some sense of normalcy to come back to the two of you.

Stepping inside, he lets out an irritated huff, “look, if you’re saving the big lecture for when we get inside, you should just-“

His voice dies in his throat as you push him against the wall, the front door clicking shut beside you.

“You never know when to keep that big mouth of yours shut, huh, Katsuki?” You tut, shaking your head in disappointment. “You know, if you actually put it to good use, instead of spewing your typical bullshit…”

“The fuck are you talking about, (Y/n)?” He counters, brows furrowed.

“I’m talking about how this is the last time you’re going to disrespect me like that, you fucking brat,” you spit, pushing him harder into the wall with your arm across his chest.

“Oh, please,” he rolls his eyes, “if I hadn’t gone ahead-“

“Enough, Katsuki,” you cut him off, eyes hard as your gaze meets his. “This is the last time you pull something like this. I’ve put up with it for this long because I care about you, and it usually all works out in the end, but not anymore. It’s time you learned some respect.”

He scoffs, “and I suppose you’re going to teach me?”

“Damn right I am,” comes your immediate reply, and you can tell he isn’t expecting it. “It’s time someone knocked you down a few pegs, brat, and I’ll be happy to do it.”

A humourless puff of air escapes him, “I’d like to see you try.”

“Oh, baby,” you grin, “I’ve already started.”

At your words, his brow furrows further in confusion until he feels you arm shift slightly, allowing for your hand to rest at the base of his throat. His eyes go wide as he feels your fingers gently brushing over his skin, almost teasingly against his throat, your body now pushing into his fully.

“Like I said, you’ve always had such a loud mouth, Katsuki,” you stare into his eyes, and you know he’s watching you, waiting to see what your next move will be. “You’ve always needed someone to discipline you properly, to tell you ‘no’ and actually mean it. To bring you to your knees and make you beg-”

Before you can say another word, he cuts you off, “like hell I’d ever beg for anything.”

Your eyes flash, grip squeezing slightly at the base of his throat in warning as he gasps, “don’t interrupt me again.” 

You notice his eyebrow quirk slightly, his Adam’s apple bobbing against your hand as he swallows subtly, yet he nods once in understanding. 

“As I was saying,” you sigh, “you will beg by the time I’m done with you tonight. After I’m done teaching you some respect. Though, I don’t think I’ll need to try very hard.”

To emphasize your point, you bring your free hand to his crotch, cupping his semi-hard cock in your hands and squeezing. He inhales sharply, gritting his teeth as he feels you gently caressing his growing erection, both loving and hating how much this is actually turning him on at the moment. You smirk.

“After all, I’ve barely done anything to you, and you’re already this turned on,” your voice is low as you lean in to whisper into his ear. A shiver runs down his spine as he feels your breath ghost over his neck, “pathetic.”

A small moan escapes his lips, immediately causing his eyes to widen, face turning red as you chuckle at his reaction. He attempts to get words out, but all he can do is splutter as you release your hold on him with a quirked brow, nails trailing down his chest teasingly until all he’s left with is the faintest ghost of your touch over his skin.

“Seems to me like you’re already begging for me to have my way with you,” you say as you take a few steps backwards and away from him. 

He catches himself as he takes a small step towards you, gritting his teeth in frustration at what you’re doing to him. You watch as his fists clench at his sides, a fire igniting behind his irises. He’s putting up a front, and you can tell, one that’s close to cracking.

“Like hell I would,” he’s still, spine rigid as he watches you with defiance still shining in his eyes, along with something else. Something you’ve never seen before.

“Oh?” You quirk your brow once more, now taking small steps towards him as if you’re a cat stalking its prey, “you mean you don’t want to feel my hands all over your body, leaving marks for everyone to see? You don’t want to know what it’s like to be rewarded for being my good boy? You’d rather me not take care of that little situation you’ve got going on down there?” You trail your eyes over his body, gaze focusing on the tent now visible in his pants as he shifts slightly at the feeling of having your eyes on him like this. “Damn, Katsuki, I knew you were masochistic, but you shouldn’t let your pride get in the way all of the time.” You’re close enough to him now to trail a teasing finger across his chest. “Especially not at a time like this.”

He scowls, but you can see it doesn’t fully reach his eyes. He’s intrigued by your whole demeanour tonight, for he’s never really seen you act this way before. He always knew you could be demanding, a true leader that he honestly wouldn’t mind following anywhere you told him to, but he’s never had this directed towards him. Well, he’s never felt you mean it like this before.

Maybe he wanted this to happen. Maybe he wanted to see how far he could push you before you snapped and put him in his place. Maybe he’s been desperate for you to use him like he’s used you. The countless times throughout your relationship where he’s made you weak for him, made you beg him for more has made him want the same from you. Maybe, just maybe, there’s something more to it. Maybe he just wants to see how far you’re willing to go. Maybe, he just wants you to make him beg.

“I don’t let my pride get in the way,” he grumbles, as you take a step back to distance yourself from him once more. His gaze darts to the side as he crosses his arms in front of his chest, just waiting for you to do something to him.

“Sure you don’t,” you chuckle, now standing right in front of him. 

The two of you stare at one another for a few moments, the tension of anticipation lingering in the air between you. He can’t help but hold his breath as he watches your one hand come back up to cup his face, patting his cheek affectionately in the next moment.

“Once you’ve swallowed that pride of yours, brat, I’ll be waiting in the bedroom,” with a final smile that simply screams nothing but trouble for him, you’re turning around and heading up the stairs, leaving him standing there, stunned, in the front entranceway.

Letting out a frustrated growl, he shakes his head. No way in hell is he leaving things like this. There’s a part of him that wants to march right into your shared room and show you who you belong to. To put you in your place for teasing him like that. However, there’s another part of him that cannot help the way his heart races in excitement as he thinks of what you might have in store for him once he makes it upstairs.

The fire behind his eyes is still burning once he throws open the door, only for his steps to falter as he sees you casually changing your shirt. His gaze trails down your torso, swallowing slightly as he watches you turn around, you not wearing anything at all on your upper half.

“Took you long enough, brat,” you tut, shaking your head as you walk over to him, now frozen in the doorway. He’s seen you plenty of times without a shirt on, hell, even without a bra for that matter, but there’s something about your aura this time that makes whatever retort he’s about to say die in his throat. This time, you look serious, and he just knows he’s in for a long night. “What, no smart-ass remark?”

Your lips tugs upwards into a grin, arms crossing across your chest, only serving to emphasize the curve of your breasts. His mouth practically salivates at the thought of finally getting to touch you after what you did to him downstairs. He’s never gotten this worked up like this in such a short period of time before, and he wants to see what you’ll do to him next.

“Are you finally going to listen to me for once?” You ask, tilting your head slightly as you continue to stare at him expectantly.

“I always listen to you,” he responds grumpily.

“There’s that smart mouth of yours again,” you shake your head in mock disappointment. “Now, see, we wouldn’t be in this mess right now if that were the case. So, we’re going to start at lesson one: do exactly what I say, without question.”

He laughs in disbelief despite feeling the way his cock twitches in excitement in his pants at your words, “like hell I’ll do that.”

“Did I fucking stutter, Katsuki?” Your hands are on your hips now as you stare him down. “Now, I want you to get on your knees.”

“Excuse me?” He shoots you an incredulous look, not believing what you’ve just told him to do.

“I said,” you breathe, closing your eyes briefly as you walk towards him, grabbing him harshly by the back of his hair and pushing him down onto the floor beneath you, “on your fucking knees.”

A gasp escapes him as he feels his knees make contact with the floor, loving the way your hand feels harshly gripping his hair, forcing him to look up at you. Tugging at his hair causes a low groan to escape his lips, causing him to flush red in embarrassment once more.

“What did I say?” You hum, “you’re practically begging to be put in your place.”

“That’s not-“ he begins to protest, but a strangled moan escapes his throat as you tug on his hair once more.

“You were saying?” You smirk, only receiving another scowl in response. “Lesson two: right here, right now, you will address me as your Mistress. Do I make myself clear?”

“What? Like hell I’m calling you tha-“

“Do I make myself clear?” 

Another tug at his hair has him biting his lip before conceding, “yes, Mistress.”

“Good boy,” you release the hold your hand has on his hair in order to bring your hand down to cup his face gently. He stares up at you defiantly, but you can see the excitement growing in his eyes. He’s wanted this for a while now, and he can feel his cock straining against his jeans, practically begging for your touch. “Now, I think you should make it up to me, given the way you’ve acted today, don’t you?”

“Yeah, right-“

“What was that?” Your hand grips his chin, forcing him to stare directly into your eyes as a sadistic smile rests on your face.

He huffs slightly, eyes avoiding yours now as he grumbles out, “yes, Mistress.”

“Glad you agree,” you hum, releasing you grip on him in order to undo your pants. “We’re going to put that mouth of yours to good use, and maybe by then I’ll have thought of a suitable punishment for a brat such as yourself.”

At this, it’s his turn to quirk a brow at you, watching as you strip yourself of the rest of your clothes in front of him. He smirks, drinking in your figure before him and admiring every curve you have to offer. If this is his punishment, he’ll gladly take it. After all, he can’t wait to have you begging for him later tonight.

“Lesson three:” you begin to say, positioning yourself right in front of him, your hips in his line of sight. His mouth salivates at the thought of getting to taste you as your one leg comes to rest over his shoulder, hand now back in his hair. Just as he’s about to bring his hands up to help steady your figure more, your voice is halting his movements, “no touching me if you still want to come tonight.”

“Huh?” He recoils slightly, eyes wide as his cock throbs, reminding him of how painfully hard he’s become already, and once again he’s reminded how you have still yet to touch him.

“You heard me, baby,” you smirk down at him, fingers tightening their hold slightly in his hair. “Hands behind your back; no touching unless I say so. Now, put that mouth to good use.”

Without waiting for a response, you push his head down. Putting his hands behind his back, his eyes flick briefly to yours before he’s attaching his mouth to you, sucking your clit into your mouth before flicking it a few times with his tongue. 

One thing you can always count on Katsuki for is his need to be the best. No matter what he does, he’s always proving to everyone that he can do anything better than anyone else. No one compares to him, and even if he’d rather you be sucking his cock first right now, he’ll prove to you that he does in fact, deserve to come tonight. That, and he can listen. He wants to make you feel good, always, and seeing this side of you has sparked a new flame of desire for you in him. He’ll be your good boy, but he’s going to make you work for it.

Throwing your head back, you let out a moan, feeling him lick at your entrance with his tongue before moving it back up to flick at your clit. Your sounds are music to his ears, and he never grows tired of hearing his name fall from your lips, especially during these times. He only wishes he could touch you back, to tease you like you’ve been teasing him. However, he’ll do what he can for now, eating you out like a man starved, moving his tongue just how you like.

By now, your hand is gently stroking the top of his hair, brushing it out of his face so he can maintain eye contact with you as you grind your pussy on his mouth. You can feel the rumble of approval he lets out from his chest as you tug on his hair every now and then, only causing you to smirk.

“See, baby,” you comb your fingers through his hair for emphasis, “you do know how to properly use that mouth of yours.” His eyes flash and he renews his efforts tenfold. Again, he wants to prove to you that he can do it, to please you in a way that only he can. A low groan escapes your lips, “that’s it, baby boy, just like that.”

The nails of his right hand dig harshly into the skin of his left wrist, wanting nothing more than to grip your thighs and pull you into him so you cannot escape the pleasure he’s giving you. He can feel his chest swelling with pride with each jolt of your hips into his face, letting him know you’re enjoying this, too. Except, he can feel himself becoming greedy; he wants more.

“You gonna make me come?” A growl is all you get in response. “Come on, baby, make me come all over that pretty mouth of yours.”

His chest is heaving as a feral look takes over his eyes. Seeing you above him like this has awakened some part of him he never knew he had, and he loves the control you have over him right now. All he wants to do is please you, to make you feel good and be your good little boy until you can’t take it anymore. This is what he deserves, what you deserve.

With a few more sucks of your clit into his mouth, you can feel yourself tipping over the edge. Your hands bury themselves in his hair, tugging harshly at the roots as you anchor yourself to him, his tongue continuing to work you through your orgasm as your eyes flutter closed. 

A breathless moan of his name slips passed your lips, and his whole body twitches, gut clenching in ecstasy. His eyes watch your every movement as you still above him, your head thrown back as you attempt to catch your breath.

“That’s my good boy,” you breathe, removing your leg from his shoulder as you steady yourself onto your own two feet. He smirks subtly as he watches you sway slightly, knowing that he’s the one who’s done that to you. “Now, on your feet, baby.”

As soon as he goes to move, the smirk is falling right off his face. His pants are no longer uncomfortably tight, but instead, he can feel stickiness pooling against his skin as the material rubs against his sensitive cock.

“What’s the matter, baby boy?” You tilt your head mockingly as your eyes glance down to see the dark wet patch on his jeans. A sadistic smile spreads itself across your lips, eyes glinting darkly. “How cute,” you hum, “was the thought of my wet cunt on your lips that tempting to make you come untouched?”

“Shut up,” he growls, cheeks flaring once more as he avoids you gaze.

“How sweet,” you purr, walking over to the bed and kneeling on it. You notice him starting to head towards the bathroom to clean himself up before your voice has him halting in his tracks, “where do you think you’re going? I’m not done with you yet.”

[obeyme-kaidii-writes]

Trust

Leviathan x gn!MC

Words - 2885

Content Warnings - angst, lots of comfort, platonic cuddling

Prompt/Inspiration - retelling of the events in Lesson 26 after The Incident at the carnival

Summary - Levi is busy working on the costumes for the upcoming school play when you come over to spend some time with him. 

AO3

Levi was sulking.

Not only had everyone gone out to the carnival together, without even inviting him, while he slaved tirelessly over the costumes, they were now ignoring him and snapping at him every time he tried to update them on his progress.

Sitting in his room, he continued sewing the piece he was working on, mumbling curses under his breath all the while.

Stupid normies. Who needs them? Not like they would be able to fully appreciate all the hard work he had put into things anyways. At least Christopher Peugeot needed him. That was all that mattered right now. He’d do this play justice if it was the last thing he did. His useless, ungrateful brothers be damned. Or would it be “blessed” in this case? Whatever. It didn’t matter. He was not going to let them get to him.

A knock at his door interrupted his thoughts.

Who could that be? He never liked visitors and he was certainly not in the mood for any today.

“Levi? Can we talk?”

Oh. It was you. While he was furious with his brothers, your behavior probably hurt him the most. He had grown accustomed to your kindness and the attention you paid him, but you hadn’t stopped by his room in a couple days now. He was torn between turning you away out of spite and a strong desire to see you again, hopeful that you’d listen to him.

“Sure. Whatever,” he replied. He didn’t want to sound too excited to see you, he was still upset after all. But he couldn’t stop the stupid grin from spreading across his face, so he made sure his back was to the door when you entered.

Without a word, you made your way over to the beanbag chair on the floor, and pulled your knees to your chest. You grabbed the Azuki-tan plush that was nearby and hugged it close, burying your face in it. You had been trying not to cry, but now that you were in the comfort of Levi’s room, listening to the gentle hum of his electronics and surrounded by his scent, it was almost impossible not to.

Unaware of your struggle to fight back your tears, Levi finally spoke to you.

“So, what do you want?”, His tone was perhaps a little sharper than it needed to be, and he began to worry he might have gone too far and you would only be annoyed with him and leave again. When you failed to respond, he chanced a look at you to see if he could figure out how you were feeling.

You were staring at him, sure, but tears were streaming down your face. In fact, he didn’t think he had ever seen someone cry so much. His heart shattered. He had done this to you. He had broken you. He hadn’t even been that mad - he just wanted some attention and for you to feel sorry for him. But now you were crying and showed no signs of stopping and it was all his fault.

“I’M SORRY!”, he yelled, tossing the items in his hands aside as he moved to crouch in front of you, “I...I...I… didn’t mean it! Really! I’m not even upset! Just please, please don't cry.” He was pleading with you now, absolutely desperate to undo the damage he had caused. His hands were hovering over your shoulders unsure if he should hug you or just let you be. He knew he liked it when you hugged him when he was upset, but he wasn’t sure how you’d feel about being hugged by the very person that had hurt you.

You started shaking your head, roughly rubbing at your eyes as you tried to halt the flow of tears. You couldn’t form a sentence right now, you could barely even breathe, but you needed to let your best friend know that he wasn’t to blame. Giving up on getting the tears to stop, you opted to instead just throw your arms around Levi’s neck and cling to him for dear life.

Levi was stunned at your sudden movement, but he soon recovered enough to return your hug, and he began to rub soothingly on your back as you cried your eyes out. He really wasn’t sure what else to do at this point besides sit there and hold you. You always seemed to know just what to say to him to calm him down, but he was at a complete loss as to how he should help you.

After awhile your tears had finally dried up, and your breathing had begun to even out once more. Your chest hurt, your throat burned, and your eyes ached. This wasn’t how you had meant for this to go. You had wanted to apologize to him, but here you were instead crying in his arms as he apologized to you when he hadn’t even done anything wrong.

Slowly you pulled back so you could look at him. You really had to talk to him now and say what you had come here to say. He deserved that much. You knew how hard he was working on the costumes, and how excited he had been about them. And you wanted him to know that too. He needed to know that.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. Your throat was still dry and raw and you didn’t think you could speak any louder if you tried. You looked up at Levi, making eye contact with him for the first time, to see if he heard you.

He had heard you alright and he wasn’t sure how to respond. His hands were resting on your shoulders now and he just looked so confused. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of him, giggling uncontrollably at his attempts to puzzle out what he was supposed to do now.

While you had been crying he had rehearsed several different scenarios in his head as to how this would play out, and he honestly hadn’t even considered you breaking down in a fit of giggles.

You showed him some mercy though, and wrapped your arms around his neck again, in a gentle hug this time. Smiling, you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you Levi. Sorry about that. I guess I had just let everything build up too much and it finally came bursting out.”

You sat back on the bean bag, and offered him a sheepish grin. You took his hands in yours, resting them in your lap, as you rubbed the backs of them with your thumbs. You were rather embarrassed by your behavior, if you were being honest. It wasn’t that you had a problem crying in front of him or his brothers, but you had never broken down so completely before.

“Um yeah. It’s fine.”

“Guess I should tell you why I came here huh?”

He gave you a small nod, encouraging you to continue.

“I wanted to apologize to you. I should have made sure you had been invited to join us once everyone else had showed up. And I should have made more of an effort to talk to you afterwards. I promise you didn’t miss out on anything, and if I had my way, I would have been here with you instead of out there. So, I’m sorry, Levi,” you took a breath before continuing, “And I also wanted to make sure you knew how amazing I think it is that you’re designing and creating all these costumes yourself. That’s not something just anyone could do.”

You were looking down at his hands as you played with them, waiting for his response. You were the one that messed up, and you didn’t want to pressure him or make him uncomfortable by forcing eye contact on him.

“It’s ok. I mean, it’s just me anyways. Who can blame you for not noticing the absence of one otaku?”

Your head snapped up to look at him. But he wasn’t upset like you had imagined, instead he was smiling at you. He was trying to comfort you. You returned his grin with one of your own.

“Well, you are my favorite otaku after all, so of course I missed you.”

That response made him blush, and you laughed as he averted his gaze in embarrassment. No matter how many times you complimented him, he still wasn’t used to it when you were so direct. He wasn’t really going to complain though. He liked hearing those things, a fact he was determined to keep to himself under pain of death.

“So what did happen at the carnival? Everyone else seems to be in a pretty rotten mood too.”

Your smile fell, and the blood drained from your face. Why did he have to ask you that? That was half the reason you had taken refuge in his room anyways. The awkwardness with which everyone else had been treating you since then had left you feeling so lonely and isolated. To make matters worse, Mammon, who was usually constantly at your side, now seemed to be avoiding you.

“Uhh. Sorry. You don’t have to tell me. I get it if it’s something you don’t want me to know. I mean, it’s not like it’s any of my business…”

Levi had started to ramble. He knew he was rambling. He wanted to stop, but his mouth kept on going. Frankly he was afraid if he did stop talking you might start crying again, and he really wasn’t equipped to handle another breakdown. He’d probably start sobbing right along with you if you did.

Seeing how desperately Levi was trying to backtrack, you made the decision to just tell him the truth. There was no use hiding it. It was only a matter of time before one of his brothers explained the situation to him, or he overheard them talking. And you were sure they were talking.

“Well,” you started, giving Levi a moment to settle down, “you know how Beel gets when he’s really, really hungry?” Levi nodded. “He got like that at the restaurant we had met up at. And long story short, the situation quickly dissolved into chaos with food and plates flying everywhere as your brothers one by one also got pulled into the fight, and the ghost servers returned fire.”

Levi could certainly see what you meant when you said he hadn’t missed out on anything. That did not sound even remotely close to his idea of a good time. At least not in public anyways. He imagined chucking a pie at Mammon’s face in the dining room and the thought made him smile.

You sighed, and looked at your lap where Levi’s hands still rested in yours. Now you had to tell him the part you had been dreading the most. The part that had left you feeling scared, confused, and alone. Sensing your hesitation, Levi gave your hands a small squeeze to remind you he was there.

“I...I used my pacts to stop them.”

Levi started to nod in understanding, when he suddenly realized what you had said and the implications, “Wait what?! But I thought you couldn’t use magic? And you stopped them? ALL of them? At the same time? Even LUCIFER?!”

You flinched as Levi raised his voice in his excitement. You didn’t know it was excitement though. Tears started to gather in your eyes again as you were sure he was about to pull away. The only thing you could do was grip his hands tighter, hoping to keep him there with you just a little longer.

“That’s so awesome! I can’t believe it! You stopped Lucifer?? This is amazing. Do you know that that means? Your magic must be ridiculously strong. This is just like that one anime I told you about, you know? The heroine thought she was just a normal, boring high schooler. Then BAM! She discovered her magic through the power of love!”

Levi was in awe of you, and seeing and hearing his enthusiasm sent a wave of relief washing over you. You looked at him as he carried on, and couldn’t help but smile. That was your Levi. You should have known he would be supportive, and accepting. He knew what it was like to be excluded after all, and he also knew the pain of struggling to control his own powers.

“Wait. But why would that make you so upset? That’s a good thing isn’t it? It means you’re getting stronger and will be safer here, doesn’t it?”

Ah. There it is. The other question you had been hoping to avoid. But you were feeling a bit more confident now after opening up about everything else, and didn’t hesitate to answer him.

“I think your brothers are upset with me. Hurt? Angry? I don’t know. They have hardly spoken to me since then. I mean, there’s polite conversation and all, but it just feels different. Like maybe they don’t trust me as much anymore? Or maybe they’re scared of me?

I’ve never really used my pacts before now. They were just symbolic of our connection more than anything. But now...now I used it against them. I controlled them. I forced them to do something against their wills. I can’t honestly expect for them to just treat me the same after that, right? Who would want to be around someone like that, who could just force them to do whatever they wanted…”

Your voice trailed off now into a whisper, and Levi began to understand the gravity of the situation. Or at least your perception of it. He was positive his brothers would never hold what happened against you. Especially Mammon, the known masochist, who probably got a boner about the whole thing. And the way you tell the story, it sounds like all you did was stop them from tearing apart a public restaurant, something Lucifer would likely be thankful for. And surely Beel would be glad someone stopped him before anyone got hurt. No, there had to be more to this than what you were seeing. Something else was going on and causing their strange behavior.

“Levi? You aren’t scared of me, are you?”

Levi blinked and realized you were looking at him again, anxiously awaiting a response. Scared of you? Hah. Yeah he was scared of you, but for an entirely different reason than what you were imagining right now. He was scared you’d forget about him, or leave him behind some day, or just disappear and break his heart. What he wasn’t scared of was you using his pact on him. By now, he trusted you completely, and he knew you’d never use it to make him do something he’d regret.

“No, I’m not,” he replied, forcing himself to maintain eye contact so you could see just how sincere he was, despite the deep blush spreading across his cheeks.

This time he leaned forward and wrapped you up in a hug. You felt so small right now. Usually you were so confident and self assured. You were the one everyone turned to when they needed help, but now the weight of your worries seemed to be pulling you down to that same dark place Levi often found himself.

Resting his cheek on your head, as your arms slipped around his waist, he made you an offer:

“Hey, why don’t you stay here tonight?” his arms tightened around you to make sure you couldn’t turn to see his face. He didn’t want you to know how embarrassed he was at having said that, “Just so you’re not alone I mean. You can sleep in the tub. I’ll be working on these costumes some more, so you don’t need to worry about me.”

“Yeah, that’d be nice,” you chuckled, imagining how he must look right now. You could feel his arms holding you firmly in place to be sure you couldn’t check either.

He let you go, standing up and heading towards his closet to pick out some blankets for you. He didn’t want to just assume you’d be ok with using his blankets and pillows, after all. Even if you had slept over before after a long night of gaming or an anime marathon and never complained. He was sure he smelled, being the yucky otaku that he was.

When he returned, you were nowhere to be found. I guess I did creep you out, he thought. Right as he was about to admit defeat however, he realized that you weren’t the only thing that was missing - Azuki-tan was too. Slightly confused, Levi walked towards the center of his room where he had last seen her, and it was then he spotted you.

You were curled up in his tub, hugging Azuki-tan to your chest, while resting your head on his Ruri-chan body pillow and cocooned in his favorite blanket. He stared at you for a moment, before realizing that you were already fast asleep, clearly exhausted at this point from all the crying you had done earlier and the guilt you had been carrying. He smiled softly, feeling a warmth spread throughout his chest. You were his Henry, and he was going to make sure you would never regret choosing him.

[cairparavei]

leaving | ubbe (vikings)

pairing: ubbe lothbrok x f!reader

word count: 1k

requested by @lauwrite1225​

“This one is dead”, you overheard someone say, rushing over to Torvi’s children right away.

“Stop scaring the kids, Margrethe”, you said firmly, and she left, looking like she just saw a ghost.

You kneeled to be at the children’s height, whispering to them that everything would be alright, but deep down, you knew it wasn’t going to turn out like that.

You were in the middle of a civil war; Ivar and Bjorn’s armies were fighting against each other for Kattegat, your home since you were born. You were raised by farmers, and eventually became one, until you met Ubbe, son of Ragnar, and your life took a turn for the best.

It all started when he first raided England as a warrior to avenge his father. The thought of him never coming back to Kattegat, and to you, seemed to be too much for him, and he ended up confessing his love for you right before he was about to board the ship that would take him to England:

“I want you to marry me”, he said, holding you close.

“Come back safe and successful from England, and maybe I’ll think about it”, you laughed softly, knowing for sure deep in your heart that they would be back safe and sound.

You were a few years younger than him, and being son of a King, he always had more of a better life that you did, but that didn’t change his humble soul a bit. Whenever you told him you were hungry, he brought you food from the King’s hall; whenever he travelled with his father and brothers, he always brought back something for you. These kind of details were the ones that made you fall in love with him at last.

“I can’t leave with an answer like that”, he answered, smiling, “Promise me that you will wait for me. I won’t be gone for long but I cannot trust a single one of these motherfuckers to make a move on you”

“I promise”, you said, kissing him right after.

Seeming satisfied enough, he walked to the boat where his brothers and soldiers were waiting for him. As soon as they started sailing, you screamed at the top of your lungs.

“I will marry you, Ubbe Ragnarson!”

He did just as promised. He came back, and married you as soon as he did.

He couldn’t hide the smile showing in his face, and waved you goodbye as he told you you just made him the happiest man on Midgard.

Now, times had changed, and the brothers were against each other.

Something was telling you not to stop believing in Bjorn, but Ivar’s army was stronger, and he was cleverer than any of them, so you were scared to death, not only because of Kattegat and what might happen to the people living in there, but also for Ubbe. He was proven to be one of the best warriors, but who knew what the Gods had in store for him.

And you, you were no warrior. You had no skills to protect Torvi’s children nor yourself other than hiding or running away, yet here you were, having Torvi and Bjorn’s complete trust over their kids.

After what seemed like an eternity, you finally heard someone calling out for you.

“Y/N! Y/N!”

You turned your head and lifted yourself to get up, but Margrethe came first, standing in the middle of the door, not letting you see who it was.

“Margrethe, where’s Y/N? Where are my children?”, you recognised Torvi’s voice, before she asked again, “Margrethe, where are my children?”

You weren’t able to let a single word out, way too worried for what might have happened. You heard a sword being drawn, and fear took the best of you. You held Hali and Asa close to you while hearing footsteps coming closer. Margrethe walked back until you saw Torvi finally entering the room, pointing at her with her sword. She kept looking at her until you released a breath you didn’t know you were holding, and Torvi looked at you, throwing the sword and approaching her kids, hugging them and crying while Margrethe left the room.

“Torvi”, you breathed out, “Where’s Ubbe?”

She looked at you directly in the eyes, and muttered a softly “I don’t know”

“What do you mean you don’t know; he was supposed to come with you!”

“You have no idea the chaos that’s being created out there, Y/N. I’m deeply sorry, but I couldn’t care less for Ubbe right now”

You couldn’t blame her, and you knew it. You went out of the house as fast as your feet let you, looking desperately for Ubbe, but finding nothing but wounded soldiers and a big mess of a city. 

You were pretty sure you had searched all over Kattegat by now, until you arrived back at the King’s hall, where you were sure to at least find Bjorn.

As you were approaching said place, you saw him.

He was standing at the front door, looking left and right with those big blue eyes of his. You stopped dead in your tracks as soon as he laid his eyes on your teary ones.

He brought you back to reality when he first came in touch with you, taking you by the arm and pulling you into the tightest hug you’ve ever received.

You closed your eyes and hugged him back, tears falling from your eyes.

“I was so scared”, you said, crying, “When you didn’t come home with Torvi, I thought something had happened to you, Ubbe”

“Everything’s okay, Y/N, I’m here. Nothing has happened to me but a few small cuts”, he said, comforting you, “Stop crying, my love, I’m here, with you”

He pulled back from the hug and took your face in his hands, kissing you deeply for what felt like forever, making your head go dizzy because of the intensity.

“Gather your things, we must leave soon”, Ubbe said, caressing your face, “Ivar’s going to arrive at any moment, and we don’t want him to see us here now, do we?”

You shook your head no and followed his lead, not fully believing you were about to leave your home if you wanted to stay alive. You wanted to fight for it. You desperately wanted to see Ivar dead, but that would have to wait.

[havenoffandoms]

Nine Lives (Aiden/Lambert)

CHAPTER ONE: For three he plays, for three he strays...

Pairing: Aiden/Lambert, referenced past Keira Metz/Lambert

Summary: “Since you’re sticking around, might as well give ya a name. How about Whiskers? Felix? Pain-In-The-Ass, the First of his name?”

The feline nuzzled at the snarling cat medallion again, mewling and staring at Lambert with wide, intelligent eyes, ears flattened and pointing out to the side. Lambert glanced down at the medallion, bringing his hand up to it again and twirling it between his fingers. Another mewl brought his attention back to the mountain lion.

No fucking way.

“Aiden?”

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence; shapeshifter AU

Of all the ways Lambert thought he might die, being choked to death by a water hag was not one of them. In fact, he sincerely hoped that whoever found him - if he was found before his corpse started rotting, that is, or before other necrophages feasted on him - had the decency of pulling his body out of the stinking swamp. A naive hope, perhaps, but a dying man’s thoughts were fickle and hardly made any sense at all. Lambert tried to shove the beast off him, but the broken ribs and the blood oozing out of the deep slash in his abdomen made the endeavour much harder than it had any right to be for a seasoned witcher such as Lambert. He didn’t stop to check, but he was pretty sure that his guts were spilling out of the wound.

So this is how my life ends , Lambert found himself musing as he desperately clawed at the bony fingers squeezing his neck in a vice-like grip, not with a bang, but with a…

… roar?

Lambert didn’t have the time to process this last thought before he felt the weight of the water hag lift off rather unexpectedly, and the clammy fingers that were cutting off his airways mere seconds earlier suddenly eased off, allowing Lambert to breathe. He gulped in the much needed air, choking on his own spit in the process and fighting back a coughing fit. Now was not the time for his body to malfunction - it wasn’t meant to malfunction in the first place - especially not when the water hag was still somewhere, being attacked by something potentially bigger than it.

Lambert glanced to one side and cursed at the sight he was greeted with. A beast, or rather, a fucking huge mountain lion , was busy shredding the water hag’s throat to bits. The smell of prey and of freshly spilled witcher blood had probably attracted the feline, who had now not only eliminated the competition, but also managed to back Lambert in a corner. Lambert realised, with no small amount of despair coursing through him, that the mountain lion stood between Lambert and his silver sword. He had, foolishly, left his steel sword with his horse Storm, which now left him completely and utterly defenceless against the feasting feline.

And fuck, did the wound in his gut hurt like a motherfucking bitch.

“ Shit ,” Lambert cursed again, as if the action alone would relieve some of the pain. It didn’t. “Melitele’s fucking cunt, bastard water hag.”

Lambert once overheard Keira define insanity as the action of doing the same thing, over and over again, expecting different results. Lambert must have well and truly gone fucking mental, because even though swearing did not help in the slightest, he found himself unable to stop, not even when the mountain lion prowled towards him, water hag blood still dripping from its mouth. In fact, the swearing doubled in intensity when he felt the feline’s hot breath ghost over the sweat beading on his forehead.

Beats being choked to death by a water hag , Lambert decreeted. ‘Being mauled to death by a mountain lion’ sounded a lot more interesting - and far less embarrassing - than the former. Surprisingly, however, instead of going for Lambert’s throat, the mountain lion sat back on its haunches and proceeded to stare at Lambert intently. Its ears stood upright on its head, twitching whenever Lambert hissed in pain or growled a string of colourful curses under his breath. The mountain lion’s tail swished lazily from side to side, but it didn’t appear aggressive… not yet, at least. Lambert, against every single instinct, met the mountain lion’s eyes and held its stare. Vesemir would have a right fit if he saw Lambert challenge a wild animal this way. But Vesemir was gone , and well, if Lambert was to die today he would probably get an earful from his former mentor either way if they ended up in the same afterlife.

“So, wha’s it gonna be, big guy?” Lambert panted, fighting the dizziness resulting from the loss of blood a moment longer to sass the mountain lion before his inevitable demise, “ya gonna… have a piece o’ this?”

Lambert’s vision blacked out the second he spoke those words as he fell unconscious at the predator’s feet.

Continue Reading on Ao3

[five-rivers]

Danger First

Chapter 5

@pocketramblr :3

The day started off well. Really, it did. Izuku got up on time, still filled with warm fuzziness from the time he spent with his friends (friends!) the afternoon before, had a good breakfast, left early enough to catch an earlier train, saw an interesting hero fight, and then...

He was hit with a wave of nausea as he caught sight of the crowd outside UA's gates. Was it a mob? An attack? Terrorists?

... Reporters?

Yeah, those were cameras and microphones. But why was a crowd of reporters making him feel this way?

Maybe they were terrorists disguised as reporters. Or, maybe Izuku had picked up some paranoia to go with his anxiety. How fun.

If they were real reporters, they were probably here about All Might. Him cutting back on active hero work to teach had been big news.

Ughhhh. What should he do? Whoever they were, they weren't likely to leave. He didn't want to walk through them, though. What if they were dangerous? (And even if they weren't, he didn't want reporters looking at him, asking him questions. What would he say to them?)

He bit his lip and watched the crowd from around his chosen corner. Why did he have to be so wimpy and timid? He was a hero student, now. He should be better. Braver.

Oh! There was Iida!

He scuttled over to his friend.

"Ah! Midoriya! You're early today! Few people arrive at school at the same time I do!"

"Y-yeah! I managed to catch the earlier train today, so..." He looked back at the crowd of reporters. Maybe reporters. Maybe terrorists. "I think, maybe we should wait to go in as a group, though. I mean, it'll be more efficient than trying to fight through those reporters one at a time, right?"

"An excellent idea, Midoriya!" exclaimed Iida, waving his hands enthusiastically. "It's very admirable of you, to always be thinking about how to help others."

"W-well," said Izuku, blushing. It wasn't untrue, but it also wasn't the whole story. "I mean, I don't... It's more that they kind of freak me out a bit? The reporters..."

Iida nodded sagely. "There are heroes like that, too. Are you planning on going underground, then?"

There was a certain amount of appeal to underground heroics, but he was supposed to be All Might's successor. Then again, if One for All never worked properly for him and Mr. Yagi asked for it back... Quirk or not, Izuku was here, now, in UA, in the hero course, and Mr. Yagi had said he could be a hero without a quirk.

"I haven't really decided yet. But UA teaches all hero course students the three main branches of heroics, so we don't really have to choose a specialty until later, and even then there are heroes like Sir Nighteye who blur the lines, right?"

"Yes, it's one of the things that make UA such a superior institution!" chortled Monoma.

"Ah, Monoma! I agree! It is important for all heroes to be aware of the work their colleagues do, and to be well-rounded individuals!"

Monoma!?

"Um," said Izuku. "When did you get here?"

"Just a minute ago," said Monoma. "I was looking for a way around these savages when I overheard your conversation. Really, it's a shame that UA allows such rabble to prevent students from entering. If only there was something they could do..."

"I'm afraid I must disagree," said Iida. "Freedom of the press is exceedingly important for the function of society!"

Monoma looked slightly alarmed. "I don't mean to say it isn't, it's just-" he gestured at the gates, "-we can't get in. The other entrances are like this, too. It's aggravating."

"There... might be another way in," said Iida, after a moment.

"Oh?"

"Yes, my brother told me about a hidden entrance that was here when he attended UA. I suppose... I suppose these would be the right circumstances to use it."

"Lead the way, then, Iida," said Monoma.

Iida nodded stiffly. "We should wait and see if any of our classmates would like to come with us."

Several of their classmates did want to come with them, including Uraraka, Asui (who was still a little under the weather), Tokoyami (Dark Shadow was not a fan of flashing lights), and Hagakure. They were also joined by a couple of 1-B students, a cadre of business course kids, and a pink haired support course girl who seemed very interested in Iida's legs, much to his flustered confusion.

Kacchan did not join them, much to Izuku's dismay, instead choosing to bulldoze his way through the ranks of reporters, nearly giving Izuku a heart attack when he body-checked a man with blue-white hair.

At this point, their group was becoming rather large and noticeable, and Iida was getting antsy about the time, so off they went.

Iida led them to what appeared to be an entirely unnoteworthy piece of wall and knocked. There was a pause just long enough to make Iida start to sweat, and then the wall opened, revealing Midnight- Ms. Kayama!

"Oh?" she said, clearly delighted. "Chibiida using the top secret teacher's entrance? Has high school done what we couldn't? Are you finally loosening up?"

Chibiida.

Chibiida.

CHIBIIDA.

First: how? Why? Iida was over ten centimeters taller than Izuku! Secondly: Iida was never going to recover from this.

"That- that's not it! At all! I am simply attempting to help my fellow students enter the school without being harassed by reporters, Ms. Kayama!"

"You can still call me big sis Nemuri, you know."

"I refuse! It would be inappropriate of me as a student!"

Ms. Kayama sighed. "Well, you aren't wrong about those reporters. They can be a pain. So, just this once, let me welcome you kids to the forbidden environs of the staff area!" She made a grandiose gesture with her arm. "And it's all thanks to Chibiida here."

Iida started muttering about propriety and rules.

Izuku had the feeling it would be a long day.

.

"All right, Hikage, in your professional opinion-"

"What does building inspecting have to do with anything?"

"What?" said Nana. "I didn't say anything about building inspecting."

"You asked for my professional opinion."

"Yes?" said Nana, already dreading where this would go.

"I was a vigilante. For the purposes of money, I was a professional, licensed building inspector."

"I thought you were a professional hermit," said En.

"I was an amateur hermit. You don't get paid for that."

En blinked. "I can't believe people let you into their buildings."

"There were a few times-"

Nana decided to table the question of how neither she nor En had known Hikage was a building inspector. "Okay, fine. Forget the professional part. In your opinion, what was going on with that one reporter guy?"

"Oh," said Hikage. "He's definitely planning a murder."

"A murder!" exclaimed Yoichi.

"Yes, and probably of someone close to Ninth."

"Why didn't you say something?" demanded Yoichi, attempting to lift the taller man up by the front of his shirt and failing.

"Because there's not much we can do about it?"

"Just because you're right doesn't mean I have to like it!" He spun on his heel and stalked up to the silent and incomplete ghost of Toshinori. "It had better not be you, do you hear me? Don't you dare pull an Obi-Wan on poor, sweet Izuku!"

"Does anyone know what he's talking about?" asked Nana.

"Not really," admitted Banjo.

.

"Today," said Mr. Aizawa, after he finished passing out feedback from the battle trial, "you'll pick a class president."

All around Izuku, his classmates threw their hands into the air, eager for the chance to show off their leadership skills.

Izuku kept his hand down. It wasn't that he didn't want to stand out or do the work! It was just... between training after school with Mr. Yagi and Aizawa and trying to get his anxiety under control, he didn't think he'd do a very good job.

.

Yoichi started disappearing his "Izuku for President" banners.

.

Iida, though... Iida would do well, Izuku thought. Look at him, organizing everyone into a vote.

"You're not running, Midori?" asked Hagakure.

"N-no, haha, I have too many other commitments to do a good job, I think."

"That's too bad! I would have voted for you."

There was a smattering of agreement, mostly from Iida and Uraraka. Izuku started blushing.

"R-really? Why?"

("Strawberry," someone whispered.)

"Well, you helped me out during the entrance exam, and you were pretty cool during training yesterday." More agreement. "But if you're not running, I guess I'll pick Monoma. He did get rid of the purple creep."

"Ahahaha, yes, I am clearly the superior candidate!" crowed Monoma, standing up and putting his foot on his chair to pose.

"But his personality's really weird, which is why you would have been my first choice, Midoriya."

"I think Iida would be a good choice!" said Uraraka, raising her hand. "He's super organized and he helped a bunch of us get past the reporters this morning."

More general agreement. Then Todoroki cleared his throat. Everyone looked at him.

"Yaoyorozu," he said.

That was it.

"Good point," agreed Jirou.

.

"A TIE?!"

.

As the only one who hadn't voted for one of the three in the tie, Aoyama was forced to be the tiebreaker. This was done as dramatically as humanly possible.

Yaoyorozu was now president of class 1-A.

This led to a ferocious battle between Monoma and Iida that Iida won by a single vote. Monoma was promptly chosen as class treasurer. Just in time for their other classes.

.

"Those who possess forbidden knowledge should stay together," said Tokoyami gravely as he sat down with Uraraka, Iida, and Izuku.

"Are you talking about the staff area?" asked Asui, who slid in after him.

"Indeed," intoned Tokoyami gravely. "The dark path we have all walked-"

"Fumi is just bad at asking people to be his friends!"

"Dark Shadow!"

Izuku almost started crying into his rice. Having friends was so great.

"I'll be your friend!" said Izuku.

"Me, too!" said Uraraka, pumping a fist.

"Ah," said Tokoyami, coughing into a fist. "I am sure we will be great companions in the darkness of the coming days."

Speaking of darkness... Izuku couldn't help but feel uneasy about... something. He had been ever since seeing those reporters.

"So, Midori, is your hair full of secrets?"

"Wh-what?"

"Don't listen to her! She's just being silly! Like a little sister."

"It's what you always say about that actor you like! His hair is fluffy because it's full of secrets!"

"So, you and Dark Shadow are like brother and sister?" asked Midoriya, changing the subject.

The conversation segued into discussion of their families, and just when Iida was extolling the virtues of his older brother, Izuku's unease spiked. He dropped his chopsticks.

"Is something wrong?" asked Uraraka.

"I... don't know? It just feels like something bad is going to-"

The school alarm promptly went off.

.

"Wow!" said Kirishima. "Iida can do entrances and exits! Manly!"

.

"Wow," said Banjo, "I guess they picked the right guy for the job, after all. He can find entrances and exits! More than my class vice president ever did..."

"Are you copying the small red child?" asked Hikage.

"What?"

"Never mind."

.

"Today's heroics class will be focused on how to fall safely and other basic combat techniques. Before we begin, although you may practice these techniques on your own, outside of class, if you want to spar with others, you need adult supervision until you reach a level where I'm satisfied you won't seriously injure yourself or others by mistake. Now, firstly..."

.

"Mr. Aizawa? Is- um. Was it really just the press breaking in earlier?"

It was time for his first special quirk training with Aizawa, and he should be asking what they were doing today (especially since Aizawa had him change out of his gym uniform and back to his regular uniform), but he couldn't stop thinking about the break-in.

"What makes you think otherwise?"

"I'm, well, I'm not sure? I just, this morning, when I saw them, I got a really bad feeling? Like something bad was going to happen. And it doesn't seem, um, logical, that normal reporters would be able to do that to UA's gate. I mean, anyone can have any quirk- no such thing as a villainous quirk. But someone with a quirk like that, they'd put a lot of effort into controlling it and stuff so stuff like this wouldn't happen by mistake. I guess a reporter could have done it on purpose, though, but then it'd be really easy for UA to find out it was them, wouldn't it? Or the police. Since heroes and police have access to the national quirk registry, so you just have to cross-reference reporters with the registry to find quirks that could fit. But would they know that? Anyway, it seems more logical for a third party to have used the press as cover to infiltrate the school. But why? If nothing is missing and no one is hurt, which would be grounds for school being canceled, the next conclusion would be information gathering. But that still leaves the question of the ultimate ends- Mr. Aizawa? Are you okay?"

His teacher had been glaring at a camera mounted in the corner of the classroom and mouthing things at it.

"I'm fine," said Aizawa. He sighed. "You are right that we haven't located the person who destroyed the gates, but please be assured that we are investigating the incident throughly. Especially Principal Nezu." He shot another glare at the camera, as if to say he'd better be.

"Regardless, it isn't something you need to worry about as a student. We're adding more safety protocols to make sure it doesn't happen again."

"Oh, okay. S-so, what are we doing today? Sensory deprivation? Electric shocks? Stress positions? Bean bag barrage for dodging? High stakes hell exam?" He was ready for anything and very excited.

Aizawa stared at him flatly. "We're... doing quirk counseling."

"Yes?"

"Kid... except for maybe the last one... what exactly gave you the idea that any of those things had anything to do with quirk counseling?"

Izuku started to get the feeling he'd seriously messed up. Except he didn't feel particularly anxious about it.

"Oh, uh, Mom used to get brochures like that in the mail, after I was diagnosed? She didn't ever answer any, but... Apparently, some people originally thought to be quirkless got quirks after being in a high stress situation."

"But no one actually did any of those things to you."

"Not really?"

"Midoriya..."

Izuku looked away. He shouldn't have said anything. He didn't like the quirk counselor at Eisley Elementary, but he didn't want to get her in trouble, either. After all, he was the only one she had to do that stuff with, since his quirk hadn't shown up...

Aizawa sighed with the air of someone exercising a lot of self-control. "Except for that last one," said Aizawa, "and that's debatable, all of those are torture techniques."

Ah. Well. That maybe explained a few things.

"They are not a normal part of quirk counseling. At some point, we may incorporate some combat into this, but that will be to help you become more familiar with your quirk. Not just for the sake of making you stressed."

"But if we aren't doing combat, what are we doing?"

"Well, first we're going to try to figure out what your quirk is. Why don't you sit down." He took out some papers as Izuku made his way to his desk. "Alright. I'm going to go through these questions and write down your answers... then we're going to go through them again while I'm canceling your quirk." He paused. "Actually, first. What did you mean when you said you had a bad feeling about the reporters?"

.

"If I were alive," said Yoichi, "I would be committing so much murder right now."

"I thought we left this behind when Ninth graduated," said Nana. "I thought you said you were going to forgive them because they were stupid kids and Ninth forgave them."

"Well, first off, I lied. Secondly, teachers aren't kids. If we ever get hit by a quirk that brings us back to life, the quirk counselor at his old school will be my first victim."

Nana sighed. "That isn't going to happen."

"Who's going to stop me?"

"Less a who, and more the fact that there has never been a quirk that could revive the dead."

"Meaningless!" exclaimed Yoichi. "Death cannot stop me!"

"Think he's finally lost it after all this time?" asked En, leaning towards Nana.

"No, I think he's just messing with us," hoped Nana.

.

"Alright, kid," said Aizawa exhaustion evident in his tone. "Between your answers, your exam results, the battle trial results, how you react when I use my quirk on you, and Monoma's assessment... Your quirk is at least partially sensory.",

Izuku tried not to feel disappointed, but that seemed rather incomplete as a conclusion. Even though he knew about Danger Sense and this probably was Danger Sense.

"Yeah, I know, it's underwhelming, but remember this is the first session. Whatever your quirk actually does, though, you seem to be using it to detect threats."

Okay, that was more in line with expectations.

"I mean... maybe? I think so. That feels right."

"We also need to figure out what it's stockpiling. Have you ever felt any particular draw to certain situations? More than your peers?"

"Um. I watch a lot of hero fights?"

"You're a fight chaser?"

"A little bit?" admitted Izuku, squirming a little.

Aizawa sighed heavily. "I seriously hope your quirk doesn't stockpile danger- don't test that."

He wasn't going to!

Probably.

Speaking of, though, what did One for All actually stockpile? Power was a very vague description... He'd just went along with it because a) quirk and b) All Might, but it would probably be good to know.

"Next time we meet, I'll be running you through the basic quirk assessment battery- that's a series of tests usually given to five-year-olds to help their pediatric quirk doctors and quirk counselors identify difficult or stubborn quirks. You should have gone through it when you were younger."

Izuku shook his head. "All I remember is the x-ray."

"Why would you get an x-ray?"

"For the toe joint? To tell whether or not I was quirkless?" Why was he saying this? He was going to blow his cover and his secret out of the water! This was so dumb.

But he did say it. Maybe it was his guilty conscience from lying to and misleading Mr. Aizawa so much.

"That's a myth," said Aizawa.

"What?"

"It isn't true." Aizawa began to slump down in his seat. "It's an old wives' tale. Everyone quirkless has the double joint, but not everyone with the double joint is quirkless. I have the double joint, as do about twenty-five percent of people with meta quirks." By the time he finished, only the top half of his face was visible.

"Oh," said Izuku. He wasn't sure what else to say. At least the secret of One for All was completely intact.

"I hate to say this, kid, but it sounds like everyone involved in your early quirk education was incredibly incompetent. You shouldn't have had to deal with that, even if you were truly quirkless. It takes just as much counseling to deal with that in today's day and age as something like, say, Ashido's quirk."

Izuku had never heard it put like that before. "Okay."

"Now, before I send you off for today, do you have any questions about anything we'll be doing? Any of the tests we'll be running, normal quirk counseling procedures, anything. It's important for you to feel comfortable about this."

Izuku's eyes teared up. This had already been a very emotional day, and he wasn't sure a teacher had ever asked him that and meant it. "Mr. Aizawa," he said, earnestly, "you're the best teacher I've ever had."

"Is that a joke?" asked Aizawa, flatly.

Izuku shook his head, centrifugal force flinging his teardrops away.

"That's messed up, kid. I'm terrible."

"You're the best," protested Izuku.

"I just need you to know how incredibly low that bar is. Your other teachers must have gotten shovels to dig tunnels under it. They must be dancing limbo in hell."

Izuku blinked. He had no idea what that meant. "I think they're all still alive..."

"Not for long," muttered Aizawa.

[friendofhayley]

I’m back after my hiatus from fanfiction, to give y’all the best multifandom recs of the fics I read this month. Shoutout to all content creators who helped us live to see the close of this year. This fic includes 15 fics for Sterek, Larry, Winteriron, and Geraskier. The starred ones put me through heaven and hell *chef’s kiss*.

Sterek (Teen Wolf)

1. Six Letter Word for Romance by @troubleiwant | domestic kink - omg there’s only one bed - soft Derek - oblivious idiots in love - 6k

Stiles definitely starts off thinking it’s fucking hilarious that Derek-sourwolf-Hale does crosswords and cares about scuffs on his furniture.

But at a certain point, and he can’t pinpoint exactly when, “fully functional adult couple” somehow becomes a massive fetish of his. Derek in sweats and bare feet, nudging his glasses up his nose while he does the Sunday crossword? Unff. Derek filling out forms to get some renovations on his property approved? Oh God, yes. Derek putting away groceries and bitching that the corner store was out of the right type of Greek yogurt? Take me now, Stiles thinks, worrying at his lower lip with his teeth.

This can’t be normal.

2. *Dirty Little Secret* by @isthatbloodonhisshirt | Cora & Stiles bffs - no one can resist the Stilinski charm - celebrity Derek - human au - 91k

“Holy shit, this is a date!” he blurted out, turning back to Derek wide-eyed. “This is a date! You intended for this to be a date, this was supposed to be a date!” He figured if he said it enough times, maybe he would believe it, but so far, no dice.

Derek was scowling again—seriously, did he want wrinkles?—but he just reached into one of the bags and pulled out a burger, checking what was written on the foil in sharpie before handing it over to Stiles.

“Of course it’s a date, what did you think this was?”

3. Can You Feel A Whole New Part of Your World? by @isthatbloodonhisshirt | i genuinely don’t look at authors names i just click i am sorry for spamming you but you write too good - neighbors Sterek - emotionally mature Stiles - the ideal fluffy world you’d want to live in - 53k

Can you hear me singing in the shower?” Stiles blurted out, because he had to know, now. If one of his neighbours had slid that note under his door, then it meant Parrish as another neighbour could hear him, too! He had to know if this was all a huge joke and one person had walked by and overheard him and decided to fuck with him.

Parrish gave him a weird look at the question, but answered anyway, making Stiles’ plans to leave the country speed up in his mind.

“Of course I can. You’re actually not bad. Though you have been singing a lot of Frozen lately, getting kind of tired of the soundtrack.”

4. Theory of Overprotective Canines by @petals42 | derek can turn into wolf - oblivious Stiles - future fic - mutual pining - 11k

Stiles is totally looking forward to living alone in his super cool apartment off-campus. He is. He is also very excited to bike to school every day, ready to set up an awesome game room, and definitely over his crush on Derek Hale. Completely over it.

Or at least he is until Derek decides he's moving in with him. And then turns out to be the perfect roommate. And then starts attending all his classes. As a wolf.

This is not going according to plan.

Larry (One Direction)

5. **The Changer and the Changed** by @homosociallyyours | literally the best fic of all time i want to live in there - girl direction - NYC ‘70s au - trans Zayn - the girls are so lovely - 59k

It’s the spring of 1977 and Harry Styles has just moved to New York City after graduating college. She knows she’s a lesbian. She just needs to figure out how to meet other lesbians.

Louis Tomlinson works at a popular women’s bookstore in the Lower East Side, Womon’s Direction, where she spends her days reading feminist literature, writing poetry, exchanging friendly barbs with her boss Niall, and dreaming of finding someone to love.

When Harry and Louis meet, their connection is instantaneous. Slowly but surely, Louis welcomes Harry into her community of women. Stonewall veteran and old school butch Niall; Liam, a land dyke who’s moved to the city for love; and Zayn, a lesbian musician who’s been ostracized by a vocal part of women’s community for being trans, welcome Harry with open arms, ready to help her find her place in New York City’s bustling lesbian scene.

6. others i’ve seen might never be mean (but they would never do) by @cherrylouvol6 | aaaaaaaa it’s lesbian When Harry Met Sally !!! - rom com - girl direction - coming out and first times - really great sex - 20k

Louis sighs.

“Do you remember what I said to you the first time we met?”

“That I’m naive and neurotic and would be hard pressed to ever find someone who could put up with me?” Harry snaps.

7. some things fade (some never do) by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed | aaaaaa this story took me apart and back together again just like Louis and Harry - urban fantasy au - second chances - exes to friends to lovers - hurt/comfort - 25k

Matching tattoos. He’d never thought he’d be the type for tattoos to begin with, let alone matching or magical ones, but once Harry had put the idea in his mind it had never quite managed to disappear. And it had made sense. With their relationship a long distance one, this was simply another way of feeling close to one another. Of knowing where the other was, how they felt. It had made so much sense.

Back then.

8. we can take the long way home by @eleadore | i usually don’t rec my porn but there’s so much feels in this one - canon-divergent - kink discovery - friends to lovers - this was written in 2015 as a future fic but it felt like it was taking place now so good job - 27k

“Fertile,” Louis says, and then laughs because it sounds stupid to say out loud. He hasn’t ever really thought of himself in those terms. Baby-making terms. It’s just one of those things his body can do, like exercise, or go without tea. Doesn’t mean he will.

Winteriron (MCU)

9. **Dig No Graves** by @missaphelion | Tony finds out about his parents right after winter soldier au - Tony Stark has a heart - Bucky heals with bots and lots of sugar - slow burn - 142k

"I'm here to kill you, Terminator," Tony said slowly, "does that compute?"

The soldier looked up at him with wide blue eyes and no expression. "Okay."

Tony froze. "Okay," he echoed. "I tell you I came here to kill you and your response is 'okay'?"

10. A Rifling Matter by Penndragon27 | Winter Soldier has such a big crush on Tony’s weapons, he escapes Hydra au - identity porn - pining Bucky - fluff and angst - Winter Soldier is a fanboy and it’s cute - 37k

All the Asset knows is fighting, killing.

He also knows a good weapon when he sees one and Stark Industries... they make some great weapons.

11. *Winter is Coming (aka Fifty First Avengers Dates)* by @tisfan & @everyworldneedslove | enemies to friends to lovers to 50 first dates - pining Bucky - Tony gets amnesia - no Steve bashing but he’s a little bit of an ass - mental health issues - 109k

Bucky Barnes is still mostly The Asset, and he's pretty sure Hydra is going to come back for him soon, so in the meantime he's just going to keep an eye on the Avengers for them. But then Clint spotted him hiding in the shadows, so Tony came out and dragged Bucky back to the Tower, threw him in the shower, and fed him cheeseburgers.

Now The Asset is having anomalous feelings. In his pants.

Geraskier (The Witcher)

12. *no reason to run* by @yoursummerfrost | different meeting au - only one bed but camping - cursed Jaskier - soft Geralt!!!! - poly negotiations - 61k

"You'll change your mind one day," says the innkeep. "The road can't love you back."

What a strange way to flatten something so beautiful, Jaskier thinks. What a small way to love.

13. *He Fell into a Faerie Ring* by @geraltnoises | Jaskier gets bardnapped after the fight au - non-human Jaskier - soft Geralt - Jaskier encourages people to be kind and becomes a god - emotionally mature Geralt - 57k

Traders are a gossiping sort. If there was a scandal within the noble houses of Posada, you’d hear about it in Cretegor by the end of the week. So, the quick spread of a rumor about a little village in the Kestrel Mountain range was not at all surprising. What was surprising was the story that the traders wove. They said that Luibhtorrach, a sad, ghost of a farming town, had miraculously become a hub for trade, as if overnight. Their lands unbelievably fertile and brimming with crop. Even stranger, each and every one of Luibhtorrach’s people professed that their good fortune was the work of a mysterious beast they’d claimed as their personal deity. Most recent news foretold of their plans to throw a midsummer festival celebrating this newfound god. In preparation, silken blue banners were erected in every corner of the town, each bearing the symbol of their new patron: A delicate dandelion wrapping around a golden sun.

14. Barking Up the Wrong Tree by KHansen | 5+1 things - I’m worried about Geralt’s skills - non-human Jaskier - monsterfucker Geralt - crack treated seriously - 11k

Geralt is 100% certain that Jaskier is a vampire.

He's 100% proven wrong.

15. Bardic Idyll by Lisztful | fake relationship - Geralt is soft and oblivious - pining - fluff and angst - Jaskier you can’t show your emotions mainly through song! - 13k

Jaskier is certain he can win the Continent's annual bardic competition, but he needs to be accompanied by a dashing romantic companion in order to enter. Enter Geralt, who is definitely, for sure, only interested in the free food, and not at all in staring lovingly into Jaskier's eyes.

[wuxiaphoenix]

A Long Road Chapter 10 Ficbit - Ghost-Speakers

Sayvil shrugged under Kerowyn’s fingers. : I’m more worried about ghosts. Most of the ones I’ve heard of have been fleeting; spirits only tied to earth long enough to pass on one desperate message, or lead searchers to the lost and dying. What we saw in Lan Wangji’s memories....:

“They did a lot more than just pass a message.” Daren grimaced. “Do you think Tale’sedrin will send us a shaman to help? We asked very nicely.”

“They usually don’t leave the Plains,” Kerowyn noted, calculating travel times in her head for one of the Queen’s Messengers to get to the rim of the Plains and back. Given what they now knew about potentially missing spells to create the living dead, Selenay had decided it was worth a Herald’s speed to send the request. “Swordsworn do - and I know from my grandmothers they can deal with spirits. I’d be surprised if we didn’t get one traveling up here out of pure curiosity. It’ll just take a while.” She cast a sidelong look at the prince-consort. “Doesn’t Haven have some ghost-speaking priests?”

“So I’m told,” Daren stated, very carefully. “I’m also told those who can speak with spirits tend to keep it very quiet. Something about, not everyone who dies leaves a ghost, and some families... aren’t very understanding about that. Alberich probably knows who they are; and if he doesn’t, Father Gerichen knows who to ask. Do you think we should ask them if the Nie are stirring anything up?”

“Just in case,” Kerowyn nodded. “If even their ghosts are different - something might go wrong, completely by accident.”

:Or... not by accident.:

Kerowyn tensed, as both Daren and Jasan snapped their attention to her Companion. “You think the Nie would-?”

:Nie, hells. You’re thinking of possibly inviting a necromancer into Valdemar,: Sayvil said dryly. :I don’t care if he coerces them or talks them into it, he uses ghosts to fight for him. It’d be wise for us to find ways to detect what he’s doing when he’s doing it before he does it. Especially given-:

Kerowyn gave her a hard look. Normally she’d respect the fact that Companions had things they couldn’t talk about. But normally Valdemar would shoot a necromancer on sight, not consider giving him and his refugees sanctuary. :Given what?:

:I overheard Kellen ask Rolan something about necromancy,: Sayvil said reluctantly. :That’s all I heard; they noticed me, and Rolan rather politely told me to shove off. But it looked like it was a friendly discussion. And Rolan may not BeSpeak Talia, but he has ways of letting her know when something is a Bad Idea.:

[robininthelabyrinth]

I hope you get plenty of prompts that you enjoy. Thank you.

NMJ bonding with child Wangji. Maybe a few times NMJ beat little LWJ in a spar and the time he knew little Wangji would one day beat him. Mostly Pre Cloud Recesses arc?

Of Few Words - ao3

The first time Nie Mingjue met Lan Xichen’s little brother, he thought he would be just like Nie Huaisang, so he picked him up and threw him.

“Mingjue-xiong,” Lan Xichen gasped, clearly horrified. “What are you doing?”

Probably something forbidden by the rules, Nie Mingjue thought, and shrugged.

He wasn’t good with words, was too blunt and too direct, especially for the Lan sect, and so over the past couple of weeks or so that he’d been here he’d found it was easier not to speak at all. They’d make whatever assumptions they wanted about him, no matter what he did; it was easier to just let them do that and work with that than it was to futilely strive to get them to actually understand him.

“Even if Wangji has done something to upset you, you may only assign him to do copying,” Lan Xichen told him, and Nie Mingjue was briefly surprised that his new friend had assumed he was angry before he remembered that everyone here thought he was angry all the time, so it wasn’t actually that much of a surprise. “Please keep that in mind. Also, I don’t know if I’ve said, but he’s very reserved, so please don’t take offense if he just points things out...oh, I wish I wasn’t needed elsewhere this afternoon! I’d much rather show you around myself, but as it is, he’ll be showing you around this part of the Cloud Recesses in my place.”

Nie Mingjue grunted assent, and watched, a little desolately, as Lan Xichen disappeared down the still confusing twists and turns of the paths of the Cloud Recesses. It was all gardens here, carefully tended to maximize graceful tranquility, and he was sure he would have no chance of ever finding his way back on his own if left to it.

It wouldn’t surprise him in the slightest if he was. The other Lan disciples hadn’t really taken to him the way Lan Xichen had, much less a younger brother that the (rather reserved, by Nie Mingjue’s standards) Lan Xichen had described as reserved…

Unexpectedly, a small hand slipped into his own, and he looked down in surprise.

Lan Wangji looked up at him, his cheeks flushed a little red.

Nie Mingjue instinctively smiled at him, charmed by the reminder of Nie Huaisang, then remembered that too much exuberance seemed to only disturb the Lan sect and struggled to get his expression under control. He expected him to start leading him around the Cloud Recesses without another word – he had overheard Lan Qiren telling his father that Lan Wangji wasn’t much of a talker, very quiet, and to not expect much interaction with him – but to his surprise Lan Wangji did not move, looking at up at him thoughtfully, lips pursed as if he was considering saying something.

Nie Mingjue waited for his judgment.

“You weren’t angry,” Lan Wangji finally said. “When you threw me.”

Nie Mingjue blinked.

“No,” he admitted, breaking his own informal vow of silence. “I wasn’t. I thought you might enjoy it.”

Nie Huaisang loved being tossed around, whether up into the air or into bushes, headfirst shrieking into his bed or ass-first into a pool of water; he’d thought tossing little brothers around was what big brothers were there for. Sure, there was a small age gap – Lan Wangji was six, Nie Huaisang still not quite five – but he hadn’t thought it would make such a difference.

Lan Wangji hummed thoughtfully. He did not speak for another long while, but Nie Mingjue was starting to think that that was just him chewing over his thoughts before forming them into words.

At last, he spoke again: “I did.”

Nothing afterwards. Hesitantly, Nie Mingjue asked, “Would you like me to do it again?”

Lan Wangji nodded.

This time, Nie Mingjue was a little more cautious: he threw Lan Wangji up into the air and caught him, trying to demonstrate that he knew what he was doing, that he could be trusted, and by the third or fourth time Lan Wangji was smiling. It wasn’t quite on part with Nie Huaisang’s giggles and shrieks, but felt rewarding nevertheless.

Satisfied by his success, Nie Mingjue was about to put him down on the ground, but hesitated. “Do you want to ride on my shoulders?” he asked, and waited as Lan Wangji considered it.

“Another time,” Lan Wangji decided. “Not today.”

Nie Mingjue nodded and put him down. Lan Wangji took his hand once again and, this time, led him around the way he’d expected from the start, pointing out various places and naming them in a quiet murmur.

Lan Wangji really wasn’t much of a talker, a person of few words, but that was fine. So was Nie Mingjue.

-

It was a few days later that he came across Lan Wangji kneeling beside the training grounds and impulsively challenged him. He was getting bored of training alone: Lan Xichen was busy again, and the other Lan disciples had already made clear that they didn’t want to have anything to do with him, the interloper who’d pushed his way into their lessons by force.

It wasn’t actually like that at all – his father had sent Nie Mingjue to learn here for the season as a gesture of goodwill, wanting to support Lan Qiren’s lecture series and make it clear that other sects should follow suit, to encourage Lan Qiren’s goal of eventually creating a safe haven for all the Great Sect’s heirs to come together and learn and build friendships while still in their youth – but Nie Mingjue knew that there was no convincing any of his wary Lan sect peers of that. Even if there was, he certainly couldn’t do it, not with his clumsy tongue and scowling face and too-tall height that made everyone immediately assume he would resort to violence as his first and only argument.

So he trained alone and studied alone, or with Lan Xichen in the rare times when his friend was free, but it was boring, and anyway, he thought he’d gotten on pretty well with Lan Wangji the first time they’d met. It wouldn’t be a real spar, of course, not against a six-year-old, but doing the moves slow and mirroring a smaller opponent would force him to pay close attention to his own technique, which would pay off in the long run.

He explained this to Lan Wangji when the boy frowned up at him in what Nie Mingjue was starting to be able to identify as a silent question – he didn’t use many words himself, just spat out “Mirroring improves technique,” and saw that Lan Wangji understood the rest – and a moment later Lan Wangji nodded and rose to his feet, picking up one of the practice swords and taking a position opposite him on one of the fields.

Nie Mingjue started with a standard warm-up routine, unsure of Lan Wangji’s skills. Supposedly he was the opposite of Nie Huaisang in this respect, too, startlingly advanced for his age, but Lan Qiren had also said something about him pausing his sword training as a result of some incident, not specified; his father had nodded in response as if he’d understood, which was very unhelpful to the eavesdropping Nie Mingjue, who didn’t. Since he didn’t know the background of the incident or when Lan Wangji had picked up sword training again, and more to the point wasn’t inclined to ask since he knew that Lan Wangji wouldn’t enjoy explaining, he just started out with the basics and went up slowly from there.

It turned out his concerns were mostly unnecessary – Lan Wangji was a bit stiff at first, maybe because of the kneeling he’d been doing, but he clearly had the basics down flat, and they were able to progress to something a little more interesting quick enough, trading very slow swipes with saber and sword.

Nie Mingjue didn’t even notice that they had an audience until he heard Lan Xichen say his name in a strangled voice. He finished the follow-through of the move they were on, since stopping in the middle could be dangerous (not for them, not with training swords, but in the future, when it was real, and forming good habits now would help more later on), saluted Lan Wangji with his saber and was saluted in return, and then turned to look for his friend.

Lan Xichen was staring at them as if they’d turned into ghosts, and there was a whole crowd of Lan sect disciples standing around gawking at them instead of doing their own training.

Nie Mingjue hunched up his shoulders, assuming he’d somehow managed to do something wrong again, and automatically stepped in front of Lan Wangji, blocking the others’ views of him. “I challenged him,” he said bluntly, hoping to take the brunt of whatever punishment would need to be imposed here – generally speaking, he’d learned that the Lan sect’s penalties for being lured into misbehavior were less than the penalties for instigating it. “He didn’t seem otherwise occupied.”

“Wangji,” Lan Xichen said, or started to say, but Lan Wangji was already turning to put away his training sword. He then formally saluted his brother and trotted away from the training field entirely.

Lan Xichen watched him go without stopping him, then turned to Nie Mingjue. “Mingjue-xiong, how did you get him to fight you?”

Nie Mingjue blinked, confused. “I asked.”

“Yes, but – how?”

“I asked him to train with me,” Nie Mingjue said slowly, not sure if he was missing something. “I pointed out that mirroring improves technique. He probably did it as a favor to me…listen, do you need me to copy lines or something?”

“Copy lines?”

“For whatever rule I just broke,” Nie Mingjue clarified, but Lan Xichen only looked more confused. “Was it because he was kneeling and I interrupted him?”

Everyone is staring at me again and I don’t know why, again. Just tell me what it is that I did, impose the punishment, and I won’t do it again, I promise – but you need to tell me what it was that I did wrong first.

“Mingjue-xiong,” Lan Xichen said, staring at him even more strangely now. “You didn’t break any rules at all.”

That was even weirder. “But –”

“Wangji was kneeling because that’s what he always does during training hours,” Lan Xichen said. “He doesn’t train the sword anymore.”

“He – doesn’t?” Nie Mingjue asked, now even more confused, and in his confusion forgot that he was in the Lan sect with their carefully thought-out sentences and myriad of prickly unwritten rules. “Why not? He’s so good at it! And he seemed to be having a good time, too…listen, I know your sect prizes musical cultivation, Xichen, and that it’s often one or the other, but there’s really no reason he can’t do both.”

He belatedly realized he was talking too much and shut his mouth, embarrassed. He shouldn’t have brought up that subject.

After all, Qingheng-jun had been a sword cultivator with little interest in music beyond battle-songs  – still was, Nie Mingjue supposed, although he was in seclusion so much that it might as well be ‘had been’ – and Lan Qiren was an expert at musical cultivation, skilled in both xiao and guqin, but used his sword only to fly.  They’d been trained that way, complementary to each other’s strengths – Qingheng-jun the attacking hand, Lan Qiren the supporting arm – which was a pretty decent plan right up until it had all rather been ruined when Qingheng-jun had for whatever reason retreated from the world.

“Of course,” Lan Xichen echoed, and luckily he didn’t seem to notice the implied criticism. “He should, of course, if he wants to…Mingjue-xiong, I’m sorry, I have to go again, I need to talk to my uncle at once. But you should feel free to challenge Wangji again – in fact, I would appreciate it if you did. Liu-xiong, can you tell Mingjue-xiong what Wangji’s training hours are?”

One of the other Lan disciples nodded, and Lan Xichen flashed them both a thankful smile before disappearing again, even though he’d promised that his uncle only needed him for half a day and that they’d be able to go down to visit Caiyi Town that afternoon.

As a result, despite Lan Xichen’s assurances, Nie Mingjue still had the distinct feeling that he’d done something wrong, but he really couldn’t see what. Best not to think too much about it, he supposed.

-

By the afternoon, Nie Mingjue had retreated to the library to avoid being stared at. He’d thought that the indirect sneers and silent rigid politeness that invited no familiarity was bad, but apparently it was actively worse when the Lan sect disciples treated him like he’d just turned into a performing monkey that had done a neat trick. They still wouldn’t condescend to talk to him, of course, but they felt no issue staring or talking to each other about him – even though Nie Mingjue was sure there was a rule about not talking behind people’s backs.

Maybe it didn’t count if you did it in front of their faces.

Nie Mingjue actually rather liked the library, despite the Lan sect’s general tendency to treat him like an illiterate ape that only knew how to swing a saber – even Lan Xichen had looked a little puzzled the first time he’d asked to spend the afternoon there, though of course he hadn’t said anything out loud beyond reminding Nie Mingjue that they didn’t have to go there and that it wasn’t necessary to sacrifice his own enjoyment for Lan Xichen’s.

It wasn’t his friend’s fault that he was brought up to prefer those were gentle and scholarly, Nie Mingjue reminded himself, even if it chafed a little every time that Lan Xichen automatically sided with someone who could express themselves better, someone cleverer with words than he; that trait was common to just about everyone at the Cloud Recesses, and at least Lan Xichen would eventually listen to him if he kept his temper under control and persisted in trying to make his point.

Nie Mingjue might wish that the Lan sect didn’t view losing one’s temper as an automatic forfeit of the argument – do not succumb to rage had been whispered in his vicinity more times than he could count, though rarely to his face – and he might think in his heart of hearts think that they were simply wrong in dismissing his viewpoint just because he felt too strongly about a matter to contain himself, but he was a guest here and he needed to respect their ways, conform himself to their customs, even if it upset and disturbed him to do so.

At least sometimes those ways and customs served him, including in the deliberate air of quiet contemplation in the Library Pavilion. There were separate rooms for private study, of course, but an emphasis was put on preserving the tranquility of the location, and it seemed that the Lan disciples at least knew enough shame to avoid coming to gawk at him from the door when he was there.

Deciding to entertain himself, Nie Mingjue picked out several books on military strategy utilizing musical cultivation – just because he was all but tone-deaf didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate the power of the Lan sect’s core techniques – and settled down for a nice afternoon of being alone.

Until, of course, he wasn’t.

He was pretty absorbed in an analysis of altitude effects on range attacks for a while, deaf and blind to the outside world the way he usually was when he was reading, and then, perhaps alerted by some sound, he looked up to find that the sun had shifted position and also that Lan Wangji was sitting across from him with his own book primly laid out in front of him.

Nie Mingjue blinked and thought briefly about saying something. If it had been Nie Huaisang, he would have – some friendly jibe that Nie Huaisang would return in full measure, before they both settled down to enjoy each other’s company in communal silence – but this was Lan Wangji, who was a Lan, and probably wouldn’t appreciate it.

So he didn’t say anything, just looked back down at his book and continued reading.

After a little while, there was a tug at his sleeve.

Nie Mingjue looked up. Lan Wangji was pointing to one of the words in his book – “Frivolous,” he said, assuming that Lan Wangji was asking for assistance with the more complicated characters the way that Nie Huaisang would have, albeit with much less whining. “Means lacking purpose or value.”

Lan Wangji nodded, released his sleeve, and returned to his reading.

They carried on in this fashion for a while, quiet reading interspersed with occasional reading comprehension questions, and it was nice. Nie Mingjue could feel the stress of the day slowly sliding off his shoulders – more than just the day, maybe the whole week, the entire time he’d been here, or even before, when Nie Huaisang burst into tears at finding out his big brother was going to be leaving him behind. He would need to write to him again soon, Nie Mingjue thought to himself, and send presents; he’d been hoping to pick something up in Caiyi Town today, but then Lan Xichen had gotten busy…

It’d be nice if he could get him something from the Cloud Recesses itself, though.

“Wangji,” he said before he could stop himself. “What is a present you would get for someone who likes pretty things?”

Lan Wangji blinked up at him, then frowned. Nie Mingjue was pretty sure that it was a thinking frown, though, so he just waited, and sure enough Lan Wangji carefully closed his book and stood up.

“Flowers,” he said, and held out a hand as if to help Nie Mingjue up.

Nie Mingjue long ago learned that when a small child offers to help you, you accept regardless of whether or not they were actually capable of performing the action in question – though with Lan sect arm strength, who even knew – so he took Lan Wangji’s hand and scrambled up to his feet.

“Flowers?” he asked, a little dubiously. “I don’t know if they’d survive being sent by post.”

“Flower petals,” Lan Wangji clarified. “Pressed.”

Nie Mingjue blinked, but actually, no, that sounded perfect for Nie Huaisang. Especially if he got them pressed into a bookmark or something.

“My brother will love it,” he said enthusiastically. “Do you know where there are good flowers?” He knew himself well enough not to even try to make that sort of judgment call. “Can you show me?”

Lan Wangji frowned, and this one wasn’t his thinking frown – it seemed sad, almost.

“You don’t have to,” Nie Mingjue assured him, but Lan Wangji set his shoulders in a look of fierce six-year-old determination and he nodded as if he was going to go to war. “Really, if you don’t want to interrupt your reading –”

“The place is sad,” Lan Wangji said. “But it has the best flowers.”

Nie Mingjue frowned. He could tell from the way Lan Wangji’s little lips were firmed up in stubborn intent that there would be no stopping him, that he was determined to get Nie Mingjue the best flowers – truly, Lan Wangji was such a good boy, unlike that junior hellspawn and walking calamity named Nie Huaisang – but also that he thought it would hurt him to do so.

He didn’t want Lan Wangji to hurt.

“Do you want to ride on my shoulders this time?” Nie Mingjue asked, and Lan Wangji looked at him in surprise. He shrugged. “Sometimes having a different perspective on the same place makes it feel different.”

He knew he was butchering the explanation – he really wasn’t good with words – but he didn’t know how else to explain it.

He didn’t know how to explain that he used to spend days and days looking at the place where Nie Huaisang’s mother had gone in to give birth and never come back out, equally drawn and repulsed by it, right up until the day he climbed up the gate of the Unclean Realm on a dare and by coincidence happened to see it when he looked down from that great height, only to realize that the place he’d thought of as dark and depressing and even haunted was just a room like all the rooms right beside it: he couldn’t even tell it apart from the rest.

“…mn,” Lan Wangji said, sounding doubtful, but he hopped onto Nie Mingjue’s back when offered and scrambled up to sit on his shoulders, ducking his head to avoid the doorway to the Library Pavilion as they exited out the side door, and then he showed him the way to a nice looking cottage that seemed a little out of the way but which was surrounded by what were undoubtedly lovely purple gentians.

“Wow,” Nie Mingjue couldn’t help but say. “They’re very – purple.”

Lan Wangji poked him in the head.

“They are! Very purple. I’m sure Huaisang will love them to a ridiculous degree and that my father will write me angry letters about trying to sell him to the Jiang sect again –” There was a very small snort from above his head. “In my defense, he was really annoying when he was a colicky baby, and at the time I thought the Jiang sect were pirates.”

Another snort, this time less small. Somewhat disdainful.

“Listen, they’re ‘known for their watercraft’, right? It was a perfectly reasonable mistake to make…”

Lan Wangji didn’t giggle the way Nie Huaisang did when Nie Mingjue clowned around for him, but he was smiling by the time he edged onto a nearby tree branch to get a particular blossom that Nie Mingjue had set his heart on, declaring it the fattest of all the flowers and thereby a necessary acquisition, and in the end they collected a full basket of the purple flowers, more than enough for a dozen pressed bookmarks.

The smile made Nie Mingjue feel like he accomplished something.

It was almost enough, even, to let him brush off all the stares they got as they walked back together, side-by-side.

-

Nie Mingjue reported to Lan Qiren’s study with a great deal of trepidation.

It only got worse when he saw Lan Xichen sitting there as well, and when Lan Qiren instructed his nephew to serve them all tea. Nie Mingjue was abruptly seized by the fear that something terrible had happened: that he’d broken some unknown rule and needed to be punished severely, that he’d failed all his tests, that they’d decided he wasn’t actually a good fit for the Cloud Recesses after all, that his father had been summoned to take him back home early in disgrace –

“You’ve been spending some time with Wangji of late,” Lan Qiren said.

Nie Mingjue nodded.

“Yesterday, you presented the craftsman with a basket of purple gentians. Did Wangji show you where to find them?”

“Yes,” Nie Mingjue said cautiously. “He helped me pick them.”

Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen exchanged glances.

Nie Mingjue somehow felt even more nervous.

“Was I not supposed to take them?” he asked. “Wangji said they’re his mother’s favorites.”

Lan Xichen dropped his cup.

“Xichen,” Lan Qiren said sternly, and Lan Xichen apologized and quickly cleaned it up. Luckily the cup had not shattered. “Nie-gongzi, to confirm, Wangji told you that himself?”

Nie Mingjue nodded.

Lan Qiren stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Nie-gongzi…if I were to tell you that Wangji has not spoken to anyone in nearly six months, what would you say?”

Nie Mingjue blinked.

“He also hasn’t trained with the sword in that time,” Lan Xichen interjected.

Nie Mingjue opened his mouth, then closed it. He had no idea what to say.

“Our mother died,” Lan Xichen explained, his brow creased in misery and concern. “Wangji didn’t really understand…it took a long time before he understood that he couldn’t see her any more.”

“Oh,” Nie Mingjue said, feeling uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, Xichen.”

Now it was Lan Xichen’s turn to blink. “Sorry? For what?”

“For your loss? I mean, she was your mother, too, right?” It occurred to Nie Mingjue that she might not be, the way his mother and Nie Huaisang’s mother weren’t the same, but he was pretty sure the Lan sect only allowed for one marriage, and the age gap between Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji was smaller than the one between him and Nie Huaisang…

“Yes,” Lan Xichen said. “She – was. Thank you.”

Lan Qiren made a thoughtful sound.

“If you’re asking if I did something to convince Wangji to come with me and do all that,” Nie Mingjue said, having finally figured out why he was sitting here having tea and being uncomfortable, “I really didn’t. It may just be that enough time has passed for the wound to scab over.”

“Perhaps,” Lan Qiren said.

“I think he feels bad for me?” Nie Mingjue hazarded. “I’m not sure. I’m still learning how to understand him.”

“The fact that you’ve realized that there’s something there to understand puts you way ahead of most people,” Lan Xichen told him.

“Why would he feel bad for you?” Lan Qiren asked.

Because your sect is full of snobs that all hate me.

“Uh,” Nie Mingjue said. “I – have no idea.”

Lan Xichen frowned at him. “Mingjue-xiong, ‘do not tell lies’ is a rule.”

“So is ‘do not insult people’,” Nie Mingjue said sulkily, and refused to say another word no matter how many ways Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen asked. He’d already figured out that not talking was the best way to avoid getting into trouble – the Lan sect was much more insular than the Nie sect, with all sorts of restrictions about getting brought in, and he didn’t have any confidence that expressing grievances would result in anything other than more shunning.

Eventually, Lan Qiren dismissed him, frowning, and Lan Xichen escorted him back to his rooms.

“Is it because you don’t trust me?” he asked, and Nie Mingjue stared at him.

“What are you talking about?” he said. “Of course I trust you. You’re my friend.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me that there was something wrong?” Lan Xichen demanded. “And don’t say nothing’s wrong, that’s obviously a lie.”

“It’s because we’re friends,” Nie Mingjue said with a sigh. Most of the time, he forgot that there was an age gap between him and Lan Xichen – three and a half years, same as the gap between Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji – but sometimes it really hit home. “I don’t want to make trouble for you. This is just a place I’m staying for a little while, but you live here; after I go, we’ll still be friends, but you’ll still be stuck with whatever mess I make for you.”

Lan Xichen was scowling, his lower lip trembling a little, and Nie Mingjue cautiously reached out a hand to put on his shoulder, squeezing. He would prefer to give him a hug, but he didn’t know if it would be welcome – he’d already told Lan Xichen that he himself was always open for hugs, but he knew very well that Lan Xichen was uncomfortable with too much contact.

“It’s all right,” he said.

“No, it’s not,” Lan Xichen said. “Wangji noticed that you were unhappy, and I didn’t! What kind of friend am I?”

“You’re a good friend,” Nie Mingjue insisted. “You are. It’s not about you. I promise.”

They still hadn’t resolved it by the time Lan Xichen left him at his room. Nie Mingjue sighed, hoped that he hadn’t inadvertently ruined everything, and went to sleep.

The next morning, he woke up when the door to his room opened abruptly with a slam that seemed, in his sleep-fogged brain, to echo throughout the entire Cloud Recesses.

“Mingjue-xiong!”

“…Xichen?” Nie Mingjue said, and rubbed his eyes disbelievingly. “Did you just slam a door?”

It wasn’t really a slam. It was a small shove, at best.

“Why didn’t you tell me people were being mean to you?” Lan Xichen demanded, and Nie Mingjue stared at him. “I would’ve made them stop! Really, I would have! I don’t care if they’re Lan sect and you’re not, they shouldn’t be – I shouldn’t be – making assumptions about you or pushing you out or – or – or anything!”

“Where did you get all of this from?” Nie Mingjue asked, utterly at sea. He was right, of course, about the problems Nie Mingjue had been having, but he certainly hadn’t known it last night before curfew and while, yes, it was only morning by the standards of guest disciples and not Lan sect members themselves – he got an extra shichen to sleep in while he adjusted to the earlier schedule, of which he generally tried to use only half – it still seemed a little implausible that Lan Xichen had managed to puzzle all of that out overnight.

“Wangji!” Lan Xichen said, and threw himself on the bed next to Nie Mingjue and gave him a hug, a good proper one like the ones he used to get all the time back in Qinghe and which he missed rather terribly. “He actually came and talked to us! With words! Well, a few words, anyway, but he hasn’t said anything to Shifu or me for six months up until now. He said you were unhappy because of the other Lan disciples persisted in thinking that you were stupid and angry when you’re neither.”

Nie Mingjue felt warm inside.

“Your brother’s smart,” he said gruffly.

“He is,” Lan Xichen said. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I also thought you were stupid and angry and nothing more than that. I know you’re not.”

“I didn’t think that,” Nie Mingjue said, and it was mostly not a lie. “We’re friends, aren’t we? A friend wouldn’t think that about another friend.”

“That’s right,” Lan Xichen said, nodding firmly. “And friends don’t let friends go around thinking they didn’t do anything when they did something big – I still don’t know what exactly you did, Mingjue-xiong, but you helped Wangji a lot, and I’m eternally grateful.”

“There’s no need for thanks between friends,” Nie Mingjue reminded him, the first rule of their friendship formed in the spaces between discussion conferences that neither of them had any choice but to attend, and Lan Xichen smiled.

“I know,” he said warmly, and Nie Mingjue felt warm in response. “But I’m going to abuse my privilege and ask you to keep spending time with him – with both of us, sometimes, but with him by yourself if you don’t mind – so I think you’re owed at least one ‘thanks’.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” Nie Mingjue said, grinning. “You just want a free babysitter, is that it?”

“It is not! Mingjue-xiong!”

Nie Mingjue started laughing. Lan Xichen smacked him – lightly by Lan standards, no doubt, but it was a good thing Nie Mingjue was as strong as he was.

“I don’t mind,” Nie Mingjue finally said. “I like your brother.”

Lan Xichen’s smile was as dazzling as the sun. “Good,” he said. “He likes you, too.”