#i wish i could describe exactly how much and why i love little nightmares | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zepskies · 9 months ago

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😍😍 Thank you so much!! Can't wait to dive into your thoughts on Part 3. 😘

I love Denise too!! I made her the reader's aunt half for that reason, and to bring the reader into Beau's inner circle easier (like you pointed out).

I have to thank you for picking up literally EVERYTHING I was putting down in this chapter. 🤣 From the Smoke Eater "soil water" easter egg to "Pivot!" to "threatening to shoot the sheriff" (but not the deputy. A la Dean. 😏) Literally all of those were intentional lol.

Oh God, my worst nightmare whenever someone suggests that 😂 I'm with the reader on that one: is watching TV interesting enough? lol

Omfg same. 😂 Like idk? I barely have time between my jobs to write and veg in front of my couch. I binged a whole season of Friends in 3 days. I consider that fun and cool? ✌🏽

Ooop, someone likes himself a professor 😏 (Thank God she's English Lit and not Paleontology 😆)

What can I say? He likes 'em smart. 😏 (But lmfao not Paleontology. Unless it's Julie.)

I honestly have such a soft spot for Walter 🥺 (Also, Seth Gabel is such a good actor 👀) I didn't like Paige because I thought she was taking advantage of him. I was surprised to find out in the end she actually had feelings for him. That kinda came out of the left field 😅

I so agree!! First of all, he was awesome in that role. A mix of creepy and childlike. But I didn't buy Paige actually developing feelings for him either. I thought she was manipulating him too. (Like okay, she didn't ask him to take the fall for her, but she did manipulate him into stealing and watching the camp/antagonizing Luke for her.)

And I totally understand why reader feels guilty over Mary's death, but it really wasn't her fault. I hope she can forgive herself at some point ❤️

Yeah, I think we would all feel the same way, you know? Even though she couldn't have prevented this, she's always going to feel responsible on some level for not stopping Mary from going alone into the woods. 💔

Jesus effing Christ! No wonder she's so upset and wanted to move 🙈 What a giant ass-douchface her ex-fiance was. Honestly, that scum doesn't deserve her tears...

Ikr?? lol I promised it would make sense. 😂 You'll hear more about doucheface as we go along.

I absolutely loved their little get-to-know coffee date! 🫶 It was exactly what they both needed. Let's be honest, their past meetings were a bit awkward, considering the circumstances (tete-a-tetes with new husbands and murder investigations) 🤣

Aww I'm so glad you loved it!! That "someone who understands how you're feeling" was all too close, huh? Their past meetings were very awkward and unorthodox, to say the least loll. But they're finally getting their more conventional meet cute moment. 🥹 (With a side helping of grief/trauma splashed in.)

Lmfaooo nice John Lithgow gif. Love that guy. But yeah, Beau was sweet for wishing he had a proper tissue, at least. 😂

Gaaaah, I felt through Jenny throughout this chapter. I got all the little hints you dropped and loved the way you described her silent pain 💔

Aw I'm glad you picked up on that. I wanted to play on the S3 threads a bit there with Jenny. 💙

This is my favorite movie, btw. I just watched it last week again lmao 🤣❤️

I LOVE that movie!!! lol Makes me want to watch it tonight. Awesome cast, awesome writing, just my level of hopeless romantic. 💕

And did you have to make that hunk of a man move furniture? And SWEAT???? Dear fucking Lord, I-I- I'm not alive anymore. Pretty sure, yep... 🥵💦 (I was full with Denise with this one. And I could just imagine her gloriously shameless face the whole time as she thirsted over him 😆)

🤪🤪 I had to, I had no choice lmao. I think Denise represented all of us in this chapter. 🤣 (Now I wish I had a gif of Beau in a sweaty t-shirt, but alas.)

Wooohooo! Are we having another date? 👀 Welp, if she's not getting on a horse for Cormac, maybe Beau will actually do it for her 😝 Can't wait for all the riding... I mean horse riding next chapter! 😏😍🤍

That we are!! Or, well, a very date-like "non-date," if you will. 😆 And you already know where Cormack failed, Beau will certainly deliver. 😜

There will be even more "riding" puns to...eh...come!! 😏🐴🐴

As always, thank you for making me smile (and occasionally snort while sipping my glass of wine.~) 💕

Take Me Home - Part 3

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader

Summary: You are another lost soul at Sunny Day Excursions. You’re aiming to settle in Helena, Montana, where Beau Arlen is the new sheriff in town. But you’ve both got a past you’re running from.

AN: I’m being continuously blown away by your lovely responses on this story. Thank you so much! I truly appreciate all the love for our cowboy sheriff and where TMH is going.

Word Count: 6.6K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, a heart-to-heart, flirtations, and invitations taken…

❤️ Series Masterlist

Part 3: Welcome Home

In the next twenty-four hours after Mary was found, the police’s investigation led them to a man named Walter. He’d been living in the woods, and was suspected of stalking the camp for days.

He was arrested as a prime suspect in Mary’s murder at Sunny Day Excursions, along with Paige’s; even though they’d yet to find her body, the police did confirm that she'd never made it home to New York.

They also found Luke later that night. His body was pierced to a tree by an archer’s arrow.

The campers were sent home shortly after Walter was arrested.

And three days later, your aunt Denise gingerly took a seat on the edge of the couch you’d been lying in all day (and all week so far). She swept her fingers over your greasy hair in both comfort and affection.

Denise Brisbane was your mom’s sister. She was a private investigator here in Helena. And as you found out, she actually worked with Cassie Dewell, the woman you’d met at the camp, who was still in search of a missing backpacker.

“You’ve barely moved in days, honey,” Denise said.

Her face was sympathetic and sad, watching you. Though you felt the sting of guilt, feeling like a burden that had just been unloaded on your aunt, you didn’t want to leave your warm blankets. Your body felt heavy and useless.

“Good news though. The rest of your stuff ships in tomorrow,” she said, continuing to pet your hair. “I’ll help you move into your new apartment. How does that sound?”

You gave a weak nod. “Thanks.”

She sighed. “I’m not trying to kick you out, hun. I just think it’ll be good for you to start getting on your feet.”

You agreed, wordlessly. In your head, you knew she was right. You couldn’t sleep on her couch forever, and perhaps more importantly, you couldn’t let this beat you down forever.

“You sure you don’t want to talk about it?” Denise asked, squeezing your shoulder. “Your mom wanted to get the first flight out here, but I told her I’d take care of you until you go home for the funeral.”

You were grateful for that. As much as you loved your mother, you didn’t want to be smothered right now. Your mom’s version of comfort could only include a heavy dose of smothering. The one thing you had been able to do was call Mary’s parents.

That had been a long and painful conversation. After which, you slept like the dead for two days straight.

Denise broke you out of your wandering thoughts when she handed you a business card. It had a banyan tree emblazoned on it, along with the name of a grief counseling center.

“Cassie’s actually been going here, and she’s liked it so far,” she said.

At your furrowed look of confusion, she added, “Look, it’s okay if you don’t want to talk to me, but I think it would be good for you to talk to someone. Maybe someone who understands what you’re going through.”

You sighed and flipped the card through your fingers. You really, really didn’t want to go. You could already what your father would say if he knew you went to a grief counselor. His form of “therapy” was the growing collection of bourbon behind his desk.

But if it meant you’d stop being a lump in your aunt’s living room, then maybe you could give it a shot.

“Okay,” you nodded. Your voice was a bit coarse with disuse. Denise gave you a smile, and a warm hug that felt like home. She even offered to make your appointment for you.

You were a little annoyed though. Now you’d have to actually get up and put on a bra.

“Maybe shower first, huh?” she advised, while she helped you get up.

“Yeah, yeah,” you replied.

A hot shower, washing and styling your hair, putting real clothes on, and overall making yourself presentable actually made you feel human again. You even surprised yourself by putting on a bit of makeup.

Once you made it to the grief counseling center in your car, however, you sat in the parking lot for a minute. You had to take a moment to breathe. Because you knew you were going to be asked what happened. You were going to have to get into it all over again.

Even after you were able to leave your car and brave through the carpeted halls of the building, your hands were shaking. At the reception desk, an older woman directed you down another long hallway to the group session. It was the only one available on short notice, but she promised that if you found the session helpful, she could help you book another group session, or even a solo session.

You weren’t sure if you were ready for “solo,” but a group appealed to you. Maybe you could just sit in the back and let the others talk.

The counselor, Tom, greeted you when you walked into the right room. It was a small room with a bunch of chairs formed in a circle at the center. No room to hide, you thought with growing unease. You glanced over and saw that there were a few people already milling about, making small talk in a cluster near the circle.

“We’re gonna start here in a few minutes, but until then, you can take a seat,” said Tom. “There’s also coffee and cookies over there, if you like.”

Coffee. Coffee was warm, and it might settle your nerves and help you perk up a bit. You thanked him and went for the carafes on a small table in the back. You poured some coffee into a Styrofoam cup and poured a little sugar and creamer into it, but after you took an experimental sip, you immediately regretted it.

Tastes like damn soil water! You made a grossed out sound and spat it back into your cup.

“Yeah, wouldn’t recommend the joe,” drawled a familiar voice.

You turned sharply to find Sheriff Beau Arlen. He gave you a sympathetic look as he reached for a cup of water. Seeing him took you by such surprise, you gasped with a slight flinch, accidentally spilling some scalding coffee on yourself in the process.

You held the cup away from you fast, but a few drops still flecked on your jeans, and even his boots.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” you gasped again. Beau just smiled good-naturedly and grabbed a few napkins off the table.

“It’s all right,” he said. “I’m the one who snuck up on you. Accidentally, I might add.”

He handed you the napkins so you could soak up the coffee from your hand and arm. Meanwhile, he took your half-empty coffee cup and tossed it in the garbage. Your damp wad of napkins joined the cup.

And when you finally looked up at him again, you both found yourselves smiling, despite where you were. It was the first time you’d been able to smile in days.

“Sheriff Arlen,” you greeted. “I did not expect to see you here…”

His smile faltered at that, but his hand reached back to sort through his short hair at the back of his head.

“Ah, call me Beau,” he said. “I have a feeling we’re about to get to know each other better.”

You agreed to that, just as you agreed to join him for a seat within the circle of chairs. He leaned back in his chair and swept a hand through his hair again, perhaps in a nervous gesture. You glanced over at him, saw the way he smoothed a hand down his jeans when his knee started bouncing…

Could he be as anxious as you? You had to wonder why he was here, for grief counseling of all things. The thought sobered you as more people filtered in and took their seats. Tom eventually got things started from his spot across from you in the circle.

“Okay, we’ve got a couple of first timers to this group session, so tell you what,” he said. “Let’s go around, introduce ourselves, and share something interesting. Whether it’s what you do for a living, a new hobby you picked up, or keeping it even more simple, something fun you did this week.”

You looked down at the folded hands in your lap. If binge watching entire seasons of Succession and sleeping until noon every day counted as something fun, then you were all set.

The introductions started to his left, so it took a while before it got around to you. There was that little flutter of nerves in your stomach, like you were a kid again, and it was the first day of school (but worse).

Luckily, Beau was before you. You were curious about what he would share as he let out a subtle clearing of his throat.

“Hi there, I’m Beau Arlen. Some of you know me as the new sheriff over at Helena PD.” He greeted everyone with a short wave, though he tossed you a smiling glance. “You might also be able to tell that I’m from Texas. Born and bred in Houston. I moved up here to stay close to my daughter, who’s living here with her mother…my ex-wife.”

He tacked on that last bit after a slight pause. But he recovered quicker than you could process and gestured to you next. You forced yourself to perk up, putting your “teacher’s hat” on as you tried to meet everyone’s eyes. First, you gave them your name.

“I’m also from out of town, from Chicago,” you said, glancing at Beau. His expression was encouraging. It gave you the small boost you didn’t know you needed. “I’m a college professor, formerly of the University of Chicago…but I start at Caroll College in the fall.”

Beau’s brows rose as his lips twitched upwards. You tried not to blush as you passed on the introductions to the next person.

The session itself was light overall. Tom talked about the stress that often came with the unknown—with moving past a challenging time, or tackling a new project, or even moving to a new and unfamiliar city. He didn’t force everyone to chime in about themselves, but the ones who were ready to share took the floor one by one. And by the end, you thought that you’d gleaned some useful tidbits just by listening.

Hell, maybe you’d even come back here.

When the session was over though, you were kind of relieved. You grabbed your purse and got up to leave.

“Well, that was relatively painless,” Beau said, also getting up from his seat.

“Yeah, wasn’t so bad,” you replied. Your name fell from his lips in the form of a question, earning your expectant gaze.

“Listen, uh, can I buy you a real cup of coffee?” he offered. “We might not have met under the best of circumstances, but I just heard recently that you’re Denise’s niece. Well, I’m friends with the gals over at Dewell & Hoyt, your aunt included, so I just thought it’d be good to get to know each other, being that we’re both kinda new in town, and—”

You set a light hand on his arm. That one touch was able to stop his rambling, along with the sight of your amused smile up at him.

“Coffee sounds great,” you said.

You decided there was no real harm in meeting him at the nearest coffee shop, just a few minutes away.

It was hard not to associate the sheriff with that terrible night at the camp, but you knew that wasn’t fair to him. He seemed like a nice guy, and by the way he talked about his daughter, maybe even a good man.

In your experience, a good man was hard to find.

“So, what do you teach exactly?” Beau asked. He’d just finished telling you about Emily starting a summer internship with Cassie and Denise at the private investigation agency. Like father like daughter, you’d remarked. Beau’s soft, but proud smile had been telling.

“English literature,” you replied to his question, sipping at your cappuccino. He was drinking a hot French vanilla latte, which kind of amused you. You had expected him to order an Americano or something.

“Oh, yeah? What sort of classes?” he said.

“The greatest hits, basically,” you explained. “Composition, English grammar, Shakespeare…Twentieth Century British Literature.”

“Oh, is that all?” he chuckled. It charmed a smile out of you.

“I don’t know why I asked. I didn’t even go to college,” Beau said. It finally succeeded in making you laugh.

“Straight to the police academy, then?” you asked.

“Like a cannonball, heels a blazin’,” he said, miming a gunshot with his hand.

“Like a rhinestone cowboy,” you teased. And you felt brave enough to hum the riff of the Glen Campbell song.

Beau shook his head with a grin. He’d seen you, all tightened up and anxious throughout the group session, even though it had been pretty lightweight. He could relate to your discomfort. He’d made a conscious effort to talk very little about himself and gave the others the room to tell their stories.

Beau liked seeing you more relaxed though. He liked your smile, the glimpses of your sense of humor shining through. He liked that he was somehow able to bring that out of you for a while.

“I still can’t believe you're Denise’s niece,” he said, once again shaking his head. “What a small world.”

“Yeah. I’ve been crashing on her couch for the past week,” you admitted. “But I have the rest of summer to settle into my new apartment, starting tomorrow. I’ve got my whole life shipping in on a truck.”

Beau nodded at that. He contemplated whether it’d be appropriate for him to offer you some help with that. The question was on the tip of his tongue, until he saw the way your mood saddened. You sat contemplating your coffee mug.

“I asked her to come,” you confessed. When your eyes met his, they shone with the beginning of unshed tears. “The camping trip was Mary’s idea, but I asked her to come with me to Helena for the week. She wouldn’t have been there if it wasn’t for me.”

Beau let out a deep breath and met you with a more somber, understanding gaze.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said. He was reminded that they had Walter in custody. He wasn’t yet willing to break and confess to the murders at Sunny Day Excursions, but they had him.

“I promise, we’ll get justice for Mary,” Beau added. You sighed and wiped a tear from your cheek.

“Do you think you have the right man?” you asked, speaking of Walter.

“I do,” Beau replied. “He’s being stubborn, but all the evidence points to him.”

You nodded gratefully, but you had to try and breathe through your tumultuous emotions, the way your heart was cracking with pain. You didn’t want to break down in the middle of a damn coffee shop.

Again, Beau wrestled with the inclination to cover his hand over yours. He felt like he was toeing the line between his professional capacity as a sheriff, and the fact that you were his friend’s niece. He wanted to comfort you the best he could. But sometimes, words just weren’t enough.

You took a half-hearted sip of your coffee. By now, it was lukewarm, if still tasty and sweet. It was healthier than whiskey, you supposed.

“She was like…like my sister, you know?” you said. “I feel like I failed her.”

Beau shook his head, his dark brows furrowing. He didn’t know how many times he could say it wasn’t your fault, knowing you probably wouldn’t ever believe it.

That struck a familiar bell.

“Look, I uh…I understand what you’re going through,” he admitted. Your watery gaze found his again. Your head tilted in interest.

He sighed before answering your unspoken question. “I lost my partner on the job, now a couple years back.”

“I’m sorry,” you replied, and your sympathy was as genuine as his had been for you. “I’m guessing you two were close.”

Beau’s lips quirked at one corner. “He was like my brother. Matter of fact, I think it used to make my own brother jealous.”

You processed that with a sad frown, though your brows soon rose in curiosity.

“You have a brother?”

“Yep,” Beau nodded. The brief shadows in his eyes lifted at the merciful change of topic. “Good ole’ David. I still call him Davey, even though he hates it.”

A smile played on your lips. “Older or younger?”

“Younger, by a few years,” he replied. There was a more natural gleam to his smile then. “He’s a hotshot doctor back in Houston.”

He teased, but you could see there was pride behind his eyes. It reminded you of the way he got whenever he talked about Emily.

“So you know my story. What brought you to Montana?” he asked. He wanted to see if he could help you get your mind off Mary. He didn’t know that he’d just pulled the pin on a whole other grenade.

You let out a wry chuckle.

“Uh, oh,” Beau said warily.

You nodded. He did tell you his story—ex-wife with a new husband, daughter, a new job in Montana—though you still didn’t know why he was going to grief counseling. If it was because of his partner, you could understand that…but you also didn’t want to pry.

You also knew it was only fair to answer his question.

“It’s not exactly like your situation but…I was engaged,” you said at last.

Past tense, he noted.

“Good guy?” he asked.

“A firefighter,” you replied. Though you knew well the rivalry that sometimes existed between cops and firefighters. Beau’s growing bemusement told you he was thinking along the same lines.

“Ah, a smoke eater, huh?” But his smile faded. “Did something happen to him on the job?”

“No,” you said, again with that weary chuckle. It was hard for you to get this out, but you’d been wrestling with it for over six months, damn near a year. It was enough.

“Just a couple months before the wedding, I found out he’d been cheating on me with his college girlfriend…pretty much throughout our whole relationship,” you said.

Though you promised yourself that you’d never cry over this again, today had already been incredibly difficult. The tears came, and you couldn’t stop them.

Beau's brows had risen high in surprise. Then, a deeper sympathy settled in his eyes.

“Jesus. How long?” he asked.

“We were together three years, engaged for about another one,” you said. “Almost four years of my life, just…”

You mimed a puff of smoke blowing out of your hand.

“Yeah. I know the feeling,” Beau said. His tone was wry as he dragged a hand over his beard. You gave him an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry. I know my story doesn’t compare with a marriage,” you said.

“That’s not what I was gettin’ at,” he replied. “But I get it. You start to think, what the hell was it all for? …Except for my daughter.”

“Yeah. Unfortunately, I don’t have an Emily,” you said. At the same time though, you were very glad you never had kids with that man.

Beau frowned when he saw the way your face fell further, becoming distant, and lost in old memories.

“Afterwards, I…I checked out, you know? I could barely focus on my students, my family, my friends.” Your nails drummed on the countertop. You shook your head as it all filtered through your mind again. “But the last straw was that my dad tried to get me to work things out with him, and I just…I lost it. Beau, I absolutely lost my shit.”

Beau grimaced. “What made your dad think that would work?”

“He’s a retired firehouse chief,” you said, with a purse of your lips. “He’s always had a soft spot for Michael.”

“Michael, huh?” Beau quirked a brow. “That come with a last name?”

You shot him a look of amusement.

“What, are you going to run his LUDS?” you joked, but you couldn’t prevent a sniffle as a new wave of emotion threatened an upswell.

You felt pathetic. This man was the whole-ass sheriff of this town. He probably had more important things to do than listen to you complain about your imploded relationship. But you were also Denise’s niece. Maybe he just felt sorry for you.

He offered you a napkin. “Sorry it’s not a tissue.”

In his eyes though, you didn’t see pity. Just kindness.

“It’s okay. I can brave a scratchy napkin,” you said, laughing a little. “But after that, I knew one of two things was going to happen. Either I was going to break open my dad’s gun safe and shoot the bastard in the ass, or I had to get the hell out of Chicago. My mom and Aunt Denise suggested I come here for a visit, just to clear my head. That turned into scoping out jobs, and then apartments… Now I’m here.”

That fell between you for a moment as your companion processed it all. In hindsight, you probably shouldn’t have mentioned that whole bit about possibly shooting your ex, but he took it in stride.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you are,” Beau said. “Here, that is.”

You couldn’t help but blush; at his words, the deep green of his eyes, and the sincerity of his smile.

“Likewise, Sheriff,” you said.

He smirked. “Also glad you didn’t go shootin’ people in the ass.”

You covered your face and laughed.

Beau walked you to your car like the gentleman he was, even though it was only late afternoon. You opened the driver’s side door, but you lingered there. You turned back to him, curling a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Thanks for the coffee, and for letting me ramble, and vent, and soak up a few dozen napkins,” you said. You laughed a little in embarrassment, but he waved it off.

“It wasn’t as bad as all that, but good luck movin’ into your apartment tomorrow,” he said. Then it was his turn to hesitate. “If you need some help with that, just let me know.”

You blinked, mouth parting in soft surprise.

“Oh, thank you but…I don’t want to trouble you,” you said.

“You wouldn’t be. That’s why I offered,” he replied, smiling down at you in a way that had you melting a little bit more. “I’ve got an early shift tomorrow, but after, I could probably pull in Cassie. Maybe even Jenny, if she’s up for it. She’s one of our deputies at the PD.”

Beau recognized your hesitance.

“It wouldn’t be any trouble, I promise,” he said, holding a hand over his heart. “We’ve gotta welcome you to the neighborhood, don’t we?”

You were still a little unsure, but you agreed to it with a thank you, along with a more shy, sweet smile.

Beau liked that smile too.

Later that day, Beau remembered it was his turn to host the ritual movie night Friday with Cassie and Jenny. His trailer was too small to have it inside, so they set up Cassie’s projector out in front, by the fire. According to his friends, he was going about the night with too much cheer.

“You’re entirely too smiley to have just come from an afternoon of therapy,” Jenny pointed out. She uncapped her second beer, then passed him the bucket. He waved her off; he was still nursing his first beer of the night. If he stuck to his plan, then it’d be his only beer of the night.

“Aw, it wasn’t so bad, actually,” he said. He explained that you had been there at the group session. The moment your name was mentioned, Cassie and Jenny both raised their brows.

“Really?” Cassie remarked.

“Yeah. Losing her friend really shook her up. Understandably,” Beau said. His gaze lowered when he played through his afternoon with you in his mind. Though your situations were different, both in your lost friends and lost relationships, he realized just how much he’d understood and connected with a near stranger.

That kind of thing didn’t happen to him often, if ever before.

“But, she’s actually moving into her new place tomorrow,” he added, breaking himself out of his own head. “Speakin’ of, would you two have the time to help her and Denise out? I already said I would come by after shift tomorrow.”

Cassie and Jenny shared a certain look—the kind these women donned when they were having a private conversation with just their eyes. This time, it seemed to be about him.

“What?” he asked, his hands spreading wide.

“Nothing,” Cassie said, smiling. “Sure, I can come.”

“Yeah,” Jenny agreed, “barring nothing too crazy happens on shift.”

Beau inclined his head. “Knock on wood there. Anyway, what’re we watching?”

“Crazy, Stupid Love,” Jenny grinned, holding up the DVD cover. “For Ryan Gosling, of course.”

Beau rolled his eyes.

A few months ago, he wouldn’t have expected that he’d make friends with exclusively women in this town, but he only complained about it in times like these.

Though as it turned out, he enjoyed the movie. There were as many hilarious scenes as there were poignant ones. By the end of the night though, he was beat.

Jenny helped with the cleanup, but she ended up taking off first. It left Beau to put away the fold-up chairs with Cassie.

“So, tell me,” she said, in a leading tone and with a teasing smile. “You crushing on Glamper Girl for real now?”

Beau shot her a wry look.

“She’s not a glamper anymore,” he pointed out. “And I’m not crushing like some teenager. I just want to help her out. She’s been through a lot…and she’s Denise’s family. It’s just the right thing to do.”

Cassie laughed. “That’s a lot of over-explaining you’re doing right there, but okay, Beau.”

He rolled his eyes, but he had to smile. “Okay, that’s it. I’m gonna have to insist you get off my property.”

“Off what, your tin can?” she retorted.

“Hey! She can hear you.”

Beau wiped the sweat from his brow strategically while he carried his end (the heavier end, he might add) of your couch. He and Jenny were trying to get it up the stairwell to your apartment on the second floor.

“Okay now, just pivot on this corner,” he instructed. “Pivot!”

Jenny nearly dropped her end out of sheer aggravation. Her blue eyes cut down to his.

“If you say pivot one more time, I’m gonna shoot you,” she snapped.

Beau whistled in amusement. “Threatening to shoot the sheriff. Now that’s at least a misdemeanor.”

Right as he could almost see the fumes coming out of his deputy’s ears, you hustled up the stairs to help them. You picked up the middle to make it easier.

“Okay, we can do this! I think we can just tip it on its side to get it around the corner,” you said.

To everyone’s relief, your suggestion worked. Denise held the door open while the three of you got the couch up to the second floor, then into your apartment. Once the couch was successfully in the living room, you went to the kitchen and grabbed a few bottles of water out of the fridge. You handed one each to Beau and Jenny.

“Thank you guys again so much for doing this,” you said, still catching your breath. You surveyed all the boxes and furniture you all had brought in, and you realized you were crazy to think you and Denise could’ve done all of this by yourselves.

“It’s our pleasure,” Beau nodded. He gestured to his sweating face and neck. “But do you have a towel or a rag or something? You’re about to be mopping me off the floor in a minute.”

“Yeah, of course. Hold on,” you said. You went back into the kitchen and retrieved a clean hand towel. Beau used it to dry his face, neck, and the top of his chest.

You tried not to stare at the flash of tan skin near the collar of his plain gray shirt, or the wet spots clinging to his back. The sleeves were tight around his arms and across his chest, leading you to believe that despite being in his mid-forties, he kept himself in shape.

Meanwhile, Jenny drank her water, and pretended not to notice you staring at her boss. Part of her was amused, but a good part of her felt an unfamiliar sting as well.

“Okay,” Beau clapped a hand on his jean-clad thigh after he drained his own water bottle. “What’s next?”

Your face warmed, because you knew what your aunt was about to say before she said it.

“Oh, I think it’s just your bed, right honey?” she asked you.

“All right, let’s do it. Frame, headboard, box spring, and mattress, I assume,” Beau said, rubbing his sweaty hands together. He stretched his arms in preparation.

Again, you had to admire the way his shirt pulled across his tall, broad frame. But you followed after him when he started heading out the door.

“Wait, you shouldn’t do it by yourself!” you called out, and quickly followed after him.

Denise shot Jenny and Cassie a highly amused look.

“That's what she saaaid,” Denise sing-songed. The other two women grimaced.

“Wow. That’s your niece!” Cassie exclaimed.

“And technically my boss, thanks,” Jenny added.

“What, they’re cute, aren’t they?” Denise said, gesturing at the way you and Beau left.

“This from the woman who’s been lusting after that man since the minute he got into town,” Cassie retorted.

“Well, I’m woman enough to bow out when I’ve been thwarted. By my own blood no less,” Denise replied, but her mischievous smile said it all as she breezed back into the kitchen to start unpacking the silverware for you.

She knew for a fact that you’d made dinner for later—and not just because she’d told you how much Beau liked lasagna.

Beau accepted your help, along with Cassie and Jenny’s in bringing up all the parts of your bed. He just insisted on utilizing his own power tools to put it together.

That was how you found yourself holding the headboard up straight while Beau made sure the frame was aligned. It wasn’t as easy as it looked; the wood panels had to slide into the notch in the headboard just so, before he could start drilling the bolts back in.

“Damn it,” he muttered, when one panel of the frame nearly slipped out of his hand.

“Can you actually use that power drill?” Cassie asked. “Because you’re pretty hopeless with cars.”

Beau rolled his eyes, despite his smile. “Save the belittling for later. Tryin’ to concentrate.”

After a few more minutes of sweating, mild cursing, and internal praying, you, Beau, and Cassie managed to get the bedframe put together with the headboard. Then the box spring, and finally the mattress. It marked the official end of moving in.

While Beau, Cassie, and Jenny took a much-deserved rest sitting on the couch with a round of beers, you went to the kitchen where your aunt had already preheated the oven for you. Now you just needed to pull out the two massive pans of lasagna you’d prepared the night before—as a thank you for everyone who came to help you.

Denise sidled up to you and touched your arm to get your attention.

“Good job inviting our dear Beau to lift furniture for us,” she whispered, waggling her brows. You shot her a look and shushed her.

“Do you always flirt with him like this?” you asked incredulously.

“Well, I might have to do it less blatantly if he’s gonna keep playing Mr. White Knight for you,” she teased.

“He is not. He’s just…nice,” you whispered back. “So are Cassie and Jenny.”

Denise gave you an amused look. “Mhmm.”

You rolled your eyes and focused on getting dinner ready.

Within the hour, the five of you were sat at your new modest dining table between the kitchen and the living room, eating lasagna and drinking iced tea. Jenny and Beau had beers alongside them, and conversation drifted from how you intended to set up the apartment, to Cassie’s still open missing backpacker case.

The parents were even more worried now, saying it was out of character for him not to check in with a phone call, despite the email he’d apparently sent them a few days ago. Beau had agreed to give Cassie whatever help she needed on the periphery, especially if further evidence revealed itself on the backpacker’s whereabouts.

Beau was already on his second helping of lasagna when he raised his gaze to you, right across from him at the table.

“Clearly you get your cooking skills from your aunt, because this is fantastic,” he said.

Denise twittered. You blushed a little as you smiled.

“Thank you. I’m glad you like it.”

There was a short lull, filled by the tapping of silverware on plates, before Denise spoke up.

“By the way,” she said, looking to you and Beau. “Did you two have a productive time at grief counseling? What did you talk about?”

It was a well-meaning, but perhaps intrusive question. Both you and Beau tensed up. Cassie gave Denise a warning look.

“Oh, I’m sorry. You guys don’t have to answer that,” Denise amended.

“Um, it’s okay,” you replied. “It wasn’t too bad…I think I might go again.”

Beau had a warmer smile for you. “That’s good.”

You were able to return his smile. You turned to Cassie next.

“You went there for a while, right?” you asked. Cassie nodded.

“It was helpful,” she said. “I’m glad you’re getting something out of it.”

You took that with a nod, and returned your gaze to Beau.

“Have you been going there long?” you asked him.

He tilted his head. “Actually, yesterday was my first time too.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh, really?”

Cassie was intrigued at the way this little scene was playing out. Thought she caught the look on Jenny’s face while she watched it too. Like Jenny was studying them, not sure what to make of it all.

Beau wore a self-deprecating smile.

“Yeah. Just…hadn’t gotten around to it,” he answered you.

There was a heaviness in his voice and in his eyes that you didn’t miss, but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable in a room full of people, even if they were his friends.

“Well, I’ll go again if you do,” you offered, a bit bolder than you felt. Beau met your eyes across the table, and his lips lifted at the corners.

“All right,” he said. “You got yourself a deal, miss ma’am.”

You fought against a blush rising up your neck. You glanced down and took a sip of your iced tea.

“Look at you. Pulling out your ‘sheriff’ voice,” Cassie teased.

“Like a rhinestone cowboy…” you sang into your glass. Your smile peeked out around the corners of it.

Most of the table laughed. Jenny smiled, but opted for drinking her beer.

Meanwhile, Beau gave you a mock look of betrayal. His true amusement shone through his eyes.

“I see how this is. Gang up on the Texan time,” he remarked.

That gave Cassie an opening to ask you something, and hopefully get to know you better. Already she had an instinct about you: she liked you. And clearly Beau seemed to as well. Cassie tended to be more cautious about people, even if you were Denise’s family.

“So how are you liking the Midwest so far?” Cassie asked you.

“So far? It’s the fresh air I needed,” you replied.

“Oh, you should check out that art studio you wanted to see,” Denise chimed in.

“You’re an artist too?” Beau asked, raising a brow. You chuckled.

“No, just an amateur with a handful of brushes,” you replied.

You remembered the peace you’d gotten while painting in sight of the mountains. But when you got to Denise’s house, you’d hidden away those canvases, not wanting to be reminded of that week at Sunny Day Excursions. And of Mary.

“Oh, but have you gone horseback riding yet?” Denise asked. “I know you were gonna try on your camping trip—”

You loved your aunt. You really did, but she also had a knack for putting her foot in her mouth. The others quieted as you dimmed at the actual mention of that God-forsaken place.

“I tried,” you said. “I never actually managed to make it on the horse.”

“Aw, well if you ever want to go, there’s a stable in town. They give lessons too,” Denise said.

You nodded and forced a smile. You went back to picking at the remnants of lasagna and salad on your plate.

When everyone began to filter out of your new apartment, each with their own set of well-wishing and a container of leftovers to take home, Beau ended up being last to leave. You had followed him to the door, where you handed him his tupperware of leftovers, and he thanked you in appreciation.

“Now I just need a microwave,” he said. “My toaster oven’s been on the fritz.”

Your brows rose in amusement. “You have a toaster oven, but not a microwave?”

“Well, let’s just say my trailer doesn’t exactly have a whole lot of space for appliances,” Beau replied, chuckling.

You smiled at that. You hesitated, but you eventually touched his hand that held the tupperware.

“Thank you again for coming here, for helping me…and for yesterday,” you said.

Beau almost didn’t realize it, but his face was getting warm. As warm as your pretty smile.

“Well, you’re very welcome,” he said. “And just puttin’ it out there, I may or may not have been riding a horse before I could walk. First memory I have is my dad putting me on Old Bess when I was four. She nearly kicked me off…not that that would happen to you. I’m just saying—”

“I see.” Your giggle ended with a smirk. Beau tended to ramble. You weren’t sure if it was a nervous tick, or just a facet of his upbeat personality…but you found it endearing.

He leveled you with a grin. “Listen, what I mean to say is, if you’re serious about wanting to learn how to ride, I could teach you. It’s not that hard.”

You bit your lip, mentally beginning to weigh out the pros and cons. To be honest, you still had reservations, both on riding a horse, and on Beau being the one to teach you. Was he just being nice, your “friendly neighborhood sheriff,” or was your aunt onto something?

…You weren’t sure, but your instincts told you that at the very least, you could trust him with this. And trust had become hard for you to give any man.

“Okay, cowboy. Let’s ride,” you said. And you even surprised yourself with the flirtatious note in your voice.

Beau’s grin kicked up a notch. You then exchanged numbers so you could hash out the details of when and where to meet sometime soon. Hopefully soon.

Then you wished him a good night.

“G’night, darlin’,” he said. He lingered in the hallway for a parting grin. “And welcome home.”

Your answering smile warmed him, long after he left your door.

AN: *rubs hands together* We're really getting into it now. 😂 Finally we have the big reveal of why she left Chicago, and the start of her and Beau's bond. You'll see more of that, and of Emily, in the next chapter...

Next Time:

You gasped and gripped even tighter with your thighs. With almost everything you had.

You were still far too unsteady for comfort on this damn horse. The poor animal whinnied, tossing his head back with a huff. Unfortunately, that just made you tense up even more as you held onto his neck.

Beau tried not to laugh. You looked like a cat clinging to the edge of a bath.

“Okay, you needa relax a little,” he said. “He ain’t gonna buck you, long as you don’t give him a reason to.”

You shot him a narrowed look.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 4

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leviathanspain · 2 years ago

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Request for Jake Sully x Reader! Inspired by Zoe Saldana’s song “The Songcord”

Jake and Reader discover that she’s pregnant with Neteyam and they celebrate him once he’s born. Plus family moments with the rest of their kids. But Neteyam dies, so they have a long talk and comfort one another.

last caress

jake sully x reader

synopsis: the death of you son absolutely shatters you

a/n: this was more of a neteyam memorial post cus nawrrr i cried six times during this movie okay, and he didn’t deserve what he got

as your son lay dying right in front of you, you screamed in agony. you felt like you were on fire. unable to move as your eyes cried, as your mouth rippled screams, you wished for this to be a horrible nightmare. but as your other children touched you, feeling their tears on your shoulder, you realized with great fear that this wasn’t a nightmare.

neteyam was dying before your eyes.

his last words were enough to shatter you, and as you touched his face, prayers to eywa left your lips, you knew he was gone. his heart, stopped, his chest ceased movement.

“neteyam!” you sobbed, and touched your sons cheeks, warmth barely left.

jake grabbed you, holding you as you felt stuck in your body. you wondered why, why. nothing could fuel the rage you felt, as you blinked your tears away, and readied yourself for battle.

but even as you shot arrow after arrow, the memories of your son moved throughout your mind.

the memory of discovering his existence, a small kick that sent you running to jake.

“ma jake!” you screeched, nearly knocking him over as you ran into his arms. jake’s easy-going laughter echoed as he held you by the waist, “woah there! you almost knocked me over, sweetheart. what’s wrong?” he looked concerned, even if you had the biggest smile on your face.

you couldn’t find the words to express your happiness as you just wordlessly grabbed his hand and placed it on your abdomen. jake looked at you puzzled, until he felt that kick. the kick.

he was shocked.

“a baby.” he muttered. you nodded, and jumped up and down, “a baby!” he yelled, and grabbed you, lifting you into his arms as he spun around, kissing you passionately.

neteyam brought more happiness than you had ever experienced. jake sully was a blessing to your life, but neteyam was a gift from eywa herself. you were in awe to be given such a gift, and as you kissed his forehead, laying a prayer to the great mother for your gift, neteyam would reach up and hold your face with his chubby little arms.

hardly did this baby leave your arms. jake had to ask to hold his own son for a few months after the birth. and every second, you would be like a hawk, and stare at the two.

but neteyam loved his father as much as his mother, and so you relaxed as you saw jake humming quietly to neteyam, your eyes fluttering to the sound of his song.

as neteyam got older, you had to practically beg jake for more children. “please, ma jake…” you’d whisper, “let us see if the great mother will give us just another perfect blessing as neteyam.” you’d say, and everytime, jake would give in.

as lo’ak arrived, so did kiri. a mysterious birth, kiri was still a great gift from eywa, and you loved her as your own.

lo’ak fit right in, acknowledging his own existence, he made it his mission to be exactly like his brother, and your heart warmed itself a million times as you saw the two, and kiri, arguing with them both.

words couldn’t describe how much tuk had made your world complete. you felt as if you finally had all the limbs you needed to function. like a banshee to the air, tuk was the perfect piece to your family.

a ball of energy, it hurt to see her face as the sun rose on her tears, weeping over her brothers death.

you could be considered inconsolable. even jake was at a loss with what to do with you. he knew, from the bottom of his heart, that your children were your life, your breath. and without neteyam, your gift that you prayed over each night, it was like you were breathing with only half of your lung capacity.

you sought comfort in your other children, who were in just the same pain as you.

but as you lay your first born child to rest, the heaviness in your heart lingered, and as you connected to the spirit of neteyam, seeing the confusion in his face to hear your sobs, your weepings, you broke.

his spirit didn’t realize that he was dead. and you weren’t sure if you could cope.

“why do you cry, mother..” he whispered, eyes big and yellow with concern.

“i had a bad dream,” you lied, “that you were hurt..” you sniffled, and laughed bitterly, “my sweet neteyam. i just wanted to see that you were okay.”

you smiled, a genuine smile, but the agony was haunting, “are you okay, my sweet boy?”

neteyam nodded, “yes.”

and he faded away.

#avatar the way of the water #avatar #jake sully x reader #jake sully #avatar angst #neteyam x reader #neteyam #neteyam angst #neteyam fluff #loak sully #neteyam sully #na’vi x reader #na’vi

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years ago

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Prompt: WWX is one of JGS's bastard sons, raised by his mother and her husband - until they die when he's young. Then he gets taken into the Jin sect instead of the Jiang.

Right Hand Man - ao3

It was a bad day.

All the days were a little bad, but this one was especially bad.

“He’s Cangse Sanren’s child,” Jin Zixuan’s father said, tapping his fan against his palm so that he would look more like a scholar. Secretly, shamefully, Jin Zixuan thought that it didn’t really work – he just looked like one of those scoundrels that tried to pay for their meals with calligraphy instead of pennies. “Taking him in will show our strength.”

“You dare bring one of your bastard children here,” Jin Zixuan’s mother said, “and I will drown A-Xuan myself rather than let him suffer through the shame of it.”

Jin Zixuan shivered. No matter how many times he heard his mother say that in her cold and vicious voice, he never got used to it. She’d explained to him that it was the only thing that might work on his father – the fear of losing face like that, of shaming his ancestors, of cutting off his legitimate line – and she was his mother so of course Jin Zixuan believed her, but sometimes when she said it like that he thought she might really go ahead and do it.

“It’s the immortal mountain,” his father argued, ignoring the threat. “The perceived connection is only to our benefit…and anyway, he wouldn’t be legitimized or anything. Legally, his father is that Wei Changze – I could even bring the boy in as a servant if that pleased you more!”

“Nothing you say or do will ever please me,” she said, and that’s when she started throwing things and he started shouting and Jin Zixuan waited until they weren’t paying any attention to him before slipping out.

They’d make a decision one way or another.

It didn’t have anything to do with him.

Wei Wuxian was nominally brought in as a guest disciple, but everyone knew he was really a servant.

Jin Zixuan’s mother made sure everyone knew.

Despite this, Wei Wuxian smiled at everyone, seeming as carefree as a butterfly. It didn’t seem to bother him when he wasn’t allowed to wear sparks amidst snow, or even the usual gold of the guest disciples – Jin Zixuan’s mother said that it was better that he wear plain colors, like white or black, to represent his father and mother and show the world that he hadn’t forgotten his filial piety. It didn’t seem to bother him that he had to room with the other servants, or that he wasn’t invited to dinner at the same time as the rest of them, or that he got less training time –

Whatever it was, it didn’t bother him.

It bothered Jin Zixuan, though.

He started having the old nightmares again – the ones where his mother belatedly found out that he’d been swapped in the cradle for another bastard child of Jin Guangshan, and started treating him just the way she treated all the rest of them while praising some other boy up to the heavens – and his temperament, never considered especially good, got worse due to lack of sleep.

“Go talk to him,” Mianmian suggested. “Maybe if you see he’s reallynot bothered by it…”

“It doesn’t matter if he’s not bothered,” Jin Zixuan muttered. “It’s that I would be bothered if I were him.”

She didn’t understand, of course. Most people didn’t.

They couldn’t understand why Jin Zixuan was so bothered by the knowledge that his parents’ love was conditional on his bloodline and legitimacy – after all, he was the beneficiary of that bias, wasn’t he? What did it matter to him if they were cold to others?

Jin Zixuan didn’t know how to explain that the problem was in knowing that their love was conditional.

It didn’t help that Wei Wuxian was excelling despite all his disadvantages – all their teachers praised him in private, or else when they thought that no one surnamed Jin was listening. All of his mother’s dark speculations about what his father would do if ever there was a bastard child brought back that turned out to be even more talented than he was rang in Jin Zixuan’s ears, and he couldn’t help but look at Wei Wuxian, and wonder if this was it, this was the moment, if he was finally going to be replaced…but no, that would never happen. He was the one with the right blood.

It didn’t matter if he wasn’t actually the best.

Nothing he did in life mattered, really. Nothing had ever mattered since the day he’d been born from the right womb.

“He’s actually really nice,” Mianmian said, and Jin Zixuan looked up, wondering what she was talking about, only to blanch when he realized that she was talking to Wei Wuxian. “Just shy, that’s all –”

“Mianmian!” Jin Zixuan hissed, rushing over, horrified. “He can’t be here! If my mother finds out –”

“Is that what you’re afraid of?” Wei Wuxian asked, his face brightening. “I thought you just didn’t like me!”

“I don’t know you,” Jin Zixuan said. “How could I dislike you? But really, my mother –”

“We can be friends!” Wei Wuxian declared, and Jin Zixuan was rendered immediately mute. What exactly could he say to that?

He wanted to be friends, too.

His mother found out, because she always found out, and when she did, she threatened to feed Wei Wuxian to the dogs.

It turned out that Wei Wuxian was scared of dogs, something Jin Zixuan’s mother had figured out pretty quickly. That wasn’t a surprise – she knew best how to find people’s weaknesses, and also how to use them. Looking at Wei Wuxian’s sickly pale face, it was clear to Jin Zixuan that this wasn’t the first time dogs had appeared in one of his mother’s punishment, although this was clearly more severe than in the past.

“It was my idea,” he lied, acting on impulse. “Mother, I want him to be my personal servant.”

“Ridiculous,” she scoffed.

“Why is it ridiculous?” he asked. “Wouldn’t the contrast between us only be magnified that way?”

She pursed her lips, but that wasn’t a ‘no’.

Seeing a possible waver, Jin Zixuan decided to trade away one of the very few point on which he and his mother had long disagree.

“He’s charming,” he said. “He can help me woo the Jiang sect girl.”

His mother knew him well enough to know that he was trying to manipulate her, but he also knew that she liked it when he did that. Men were supposed to be upright, straightforward, and virtuous, and yet she liked to see him being subtle and sly – it reminded her of herself. It made her feel like he was more her blood than his father’s, even though in actuality those traits could very well be his father’s, too.

Unfortunately, sneakiness wasn’t really in Jin Zixuan’s nature. Comparing his straightforward and even a little stupid self to his clever and cunning parents, he didn’t know who he took after – it was part of the reason he had so many nightmares about being some cuckoo’s child left in the Jin sect’s nest.

“Fine,” his mother said at last. “He gets one shot.”

Later, when she’d swept off, an empress with her retinue, Mianmian looked at Jin Zixuan with wide eyes. “But Jin-gongzi,” she said. “You don’t wantto marry the Jiang sect girl.”

“I’ve never met her,” Jin Zixuan hedged, which was also true but a little vaguer. He didn’t want to marry a girl he’d never met, one who was several years his elder and who had been described to him only as ‘nice’ and ‘average at best’, just because her mother was his mother’s old friend. He didn’t want his marriage to be yet another thing he had to do because he was someone’s child, rather than his own man.

He wasn’t going to get a choice, though, no matter what he did, just as always. Might as well use it for something good.

Wei Wuxian crashed into him a moment later, clutching him so tightly that it hurt.

“I’ll pay you back,” he promised, his voice tight. “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll be your best friend ever!”

“That’s good enough,” Jin Zixuan said, his face suddenly hot. “There doesn’t need to be anything more.”

Wei Wuxian really was very charming when they went to visit the Lotus Pier, far more charming than Jin Zixuan ever was or would be, and his future bride seemed positively enchanted by him, which was probably a bad thing.

Jin Zixuan felt he should probably do something about it, but he didn’t know what, so he just snuck off and went to go dip his feet into the river, something he almost never got the chance to go while at home.

“I’m sorry,” the Jiang sect heir, Jiang Cheng, said, sitting gingerly next to him.

Jin Zixuan looked at him sidelong, a little surprised. He’d thought that Jiang Cheng hated him. “What for?”

“My sister. Your half-brother.” Jiang Cheng looked uncomfortable. “I can’t even imagine growing up with someone who’d flirt with the person I was engaged to.”

Jin Zixuan thought it over, then shook his head. “I don’t think he likes her like that. Or her him, either,” he said, since it seemed like Jiang Cheng had misunderstood both Wei Wuxian and his own sister. “Wei Wuxian’s just – like that,” he added. “Always. Everyone loves him unless they’re specifically told not to.”

“That’s worse.” Jiang Cheng wrinkled his nose. “He’s the ‘other person’s child’ here, you know. My father really liked his parents – he’s always talking about him. My mother says he wishes he were his son, instead of your father’s.”

“Now that sounds awful.” Probably better for Wei Wuxian, though. Jiang Fengmian would probably treat him like a real son, not the way Jin Guangshan did, like a pawn or a liability or a bastard brought in just for his possible connections – but it would probably be much worse for Jiang Cheng, who’d have to live with that happening right in front of him. It seemed mean to wish for such a thing. “He’s actually pretty nice? We’re friends. I asked him to help me make friends with your sister…I’m not really good at making friends, when it’s just me.”

He hadn’t expected them to hit it off that well, though. At least to Jin Zixuan’s eyes, they’d clearly all but adopted each other as brother and sister the moment they laid eyes on each other…which in his opinion was actually a little bit worse, since he felt like he himself was still painfully trying to figure out what being a sibling was like, and maybe failing at it.

And in all honesty, he felt a little resentful at Wei Wuxian for being picked, too – or was it a little bereft? No one ever picked him just because they wanted to; it was all because of who he was.

Who his parents were.

“I can be your friend, too, if you like,” Jiang Cheng said. He was scowling into the distance. “A better one.”

“Uh,” Jin Zixuan said, startled. “Don’t you – not like me?”

“We’re friends now,” Jiang Cheng scowled at him. “Deal with it!”

Jin Zixuan liked Wei Wuxian a lot, and he liked Jiang Cheng, too, and Nie Huaisang, who he’d just met, fit in with the two of them as if they were three peas in a pod, so he guessed he must like him, too – but if those three endlessly chattering idiots didn’t shut up and let him study he was going to throw himself off some cliff in Gusu and be done with it.

“You really don’t mind me sitting here?” he asked Lan Wangji, who nodded.

Nodded and did not respond verbally – blissful silence!

Still, Jin Zixuan lingered a bit by the door to the peaceful little pavilion he’d found and thought to claim for himself as a secret study place – necessary on account of the fact that Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, and Nie Huaisang spent all their free time together making trouble instead of studying, because Wei Wuxian just did that to people, winning them over despite themselves and then leading them into mischief – only to learn that it belonged to Lan Wangji. It was filled with gentians, which were more Jiang Cheng’s color than Jin Zixuan’s, but Jin Zixuan had seen enough peonies for a lifetime and needed the concealment besides.

It was very kind of Lan Wangji to let him stay, but he still felt he ought to apologize.

And not just for the intrusion.

Wei Wuxian’s ignominious departure from Lan Qiren’s classroom had made it much more peaceful, but that had come at a cost to Lan Wangji’s own education and opportunity to make friends with others – and while Jin Zixuan liked Wei Wuxian a great deal, he wasn’t sure how Lan Wangji felt about being stuck having to monitor him all day.

And now Lan Wangji was being nice to Jin Zixuan, letting him disturb his privacy like this without complaint, and even agreeing to let him stay so that he’d have somewhere quiet to study…he really ought to say something. Maybe apologize for Wei Wuxian, if that was appropriate. It probably was: he was responsible for him, in his own way. The only problem was that he wasn’t sure how to start the conversation –

“Do you like Wei Wuxian?” he blurted out, then felt his face go bright red. He hadn’t meant to ask it that way! After all, who didn’t know how much Lan Wangji disliked Wei Wuxian? He was always glaring at him and saying he was speaking nonsense and telling him to get lost and –

Lan Wangji nodded.

Jin Zixuan blinked. He did? But then why –

“Oh,” he said, suddenly realizing. “You’re socially awkward, too!”

Lan Wangji frowned at him, and Jin Zixuan waved his hands.

“No, no, I don’t mean that as an insult,” he said hastily, trying to cover for his blunder. “It’s like me! I always say the wrong thing, so most of the time I try not to say anything – of course people always get the wrong idea anyway, thinking I’m being quiet because I’m looking down at them…Wei Wuxian’s getting better at understanding people, but he’s still not very good at it, either. I bet he has no idea! If you like him, you should say as much.”

Lan Wangji shook his head.

“…I could say it for you, if you want?”

Even more urgent head-shaking.

Honestly, if Lan Wangji were a woman, Jin Zixuan would’ve thought that he had a crush.

As it was, he was probably just like Jin Zixuan: naturally awkward, and shy about it, too.

“It’s all right,” he said encouragingly. “Next time they throw a party, you can come and sit with me; we can have tea and pretend not to know them. It’s what I always do.”

Lan Wangji stared at him for a long moment, and then finally nodded very slowly.

“I appreciate the offer,” he said, voice neutral. “Thank you.”

When the time came and the Wen sect pushed things too far, naturally Jin Zixuan stood up for Mianmian.

Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, and Lan Wangji all did, too.

Naturally, this made Jin Zixuan feel like complete crap on their account – Mianmian was his friend, his sect, and naturally he had a responsibility towards her; the rest of them were just helping because they were good people, and good friends. But at this point they’d done it, and Wen Chao was angry at them all over it, and there was nothing to be done about it.

And then there was the Xuanwu of Slaughter, and they were all trapped inside with it.

Sometimes, he really hated the Wen sect. Often, even.

“Jiang Cheng, you and Jin Zixuan lead the way out,” Wei Wuxian instructed. “No, don’t protest! You’re heirs of Great Sects; everyone will follow you and listen to you, and that’s critical – you’ll need to evade the Wen sect’s efforts to recapture you. That means cohesion, and cohesion means hierarchy. I’ll stay behind to distract the Xuanwu…”

“That’s a terrible idea,” Jiang Cheng exclaimed.

Jin Zixuan nudged him. “Wei Wuxian’s usually right about this sort of thing,” he reminded him. It was a good thing they’d gotten over that period in their lives when Jiang Cheng thought Wei Wuxian was an evil thief who wanted to take away his older sister and Jin Zixuan’s rightful spouse, when they’d fought all the time while Jin Zixuan desperately tried to get between them. He still had no idea what magic alchemy had happened that had suddenly made them best friends – he suspected Mianmian, or maybe Jiang Yanli – but he was deeply grateful for it. “And we can’t risk the majority. Preserve human life above all else, remember? Teacher Lan’s lessons were very clear.”

“I will remain with Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said, to no one’s surprise. They’d been more or less inseparable after Jin Zixuan had recruited Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang to help them get along better after Wei Wuxian’s temporary exile to the Library Pavilion had ended. It helped that Lan Qiren had pulled Wei Wuxian aside for personal lessons to help him catch up with the rest of them, and that those had somehow metamorphosed into afternoon sessions about inventing new types of musical cultivation techniques in which Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian were the most enthusiastic, and only, students.

Best of all, it had given the rest of them a chance to finally actually do their work.

Well, not Nie Huaisang, but that was only to be expected.

“But your leg –” Wei Wuxian started, and Jin Zixuan nudged him.

“He’ll only be more worried if you don’t let him stay back and join you,” he said reasonably. “Anyway, it’s good for you to have an incentive not to detour into some big flashy heroic bullshit.”

“Awww, but Jin Zixuan, I like big flashy heroic bullshit!”

Jin Zixuan was, by this point, almost entirely convinced that Wei Wuxian actually was the biological child of Wei Changze, and that his father had lied, both about the man’s supposed infertility and possibly about having slept with Cangse Sanren at all. From Jiang Cheng’s stories, inherited from his father, it seemed that Wei Changze was also the sort of person who went in for big flashy heroic bullshit and reckless humor, the sort that would win him a disciple of an immortal mountain as a bride; it certainly seemed more likely than him sharing blood with Jin Zixuan or his father or even Jin Zixun, all of whom tended towards arrogance, but whose flash was all in their clothing.

Not that it mattered at this late date, of course. They were brothers now – as Nie Huaisang would put it, there were no takebacks allowed.

“No bullshit, you hear me?” Jin Zixuan repeated, looking pointedly at Wei Wuxian. “Not allowed. Take care of yourself, okay? Don’t make me have to tell Mistress Jiang that I lost her favorite idiot friend.”

“You tell her?” Jiang Cheng grumbled. “I’ll have to tell her. All right, let’s go.”

Jiang Yanli was not impressed with the fact that they’d left Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji alone in a cave with a giant murderous turtle.

She still made them soup and gave them bandages to wrap up their bloody feet, though.

(Jin Zixuan was never going to make a good impression on her, no matter what Jiang Cheng said.)

“Wen Chao has demanded recompense for the mess at the Nightless City,” Jin Zixuan’s mother said, reading a letter. Her lips curled up in a strange little smile. “He said Wei Wuxian’s right hand would do.”

“Mother,” Jin Zixuan exclaimed, leaping to his feet with his eyes wide. He’d only been home a week from the indoctrination camp, and Wei Wuxian was still lying in bed most of the time, pretending he wasn’t exhausted; Wen Chao must have sent the letter almost immediately after he’d realized they’d escaped. “You can’t be serious!”

“Why not?” she asked. “It’s just what the little bastard deserves, always trying to outshine you.”

Jin Zixuan shook his head, frantically trying to think of a way out of this, because he knew his mother wouldn’t so much as hesitate to order such an atrocity. She’d never forgiven Wei Wuxian for the possibility of being a threat to Jin Zixuan’s position, however remote the chance, and she’d tried very hard to convince Jin Zixuan of it, too – it was the only thing they didn’t agree on, the only thing Jin Zixuan didn’t yield to her on, and he hated every moment of it.

But not as much as his mother hated it.

It was the only thing she couldn’t control in his life, and she hatedit, and hated Wei Wuxian for it, too.

(She couldn’t hate Jin Zixuan. She couldn’t, because he had the right blood, because he was her son, because he was the heir of Lanling Jin and the source of all her power. But sometimes, when the light was dim and she glanced over too quickly and thought she saw his father when she looked at him, he thought that she wanted to.)

“You can’t be serious,” Jin Zixuan said a second time, keeping calm by sheer willpower. No one but him would dare to object if his mother made a move, especially in his father’s absence…and even if his father was there, Jin Zixuan wasn’t sure his father cared enough about Wei Wuxian to endure another fight with his fearsome wife. “Mother, he’s my servant – my responsibility. Whatever he does is my responsibility, whether to my credit or to my deficit. That’s how that works. They may be asking for Wei Wuxian’s hand, but who’s to say, when they come to claim it, that they won’t seek mine instead?”

“They wouldn’t dare.”

“It’s the Wen sect,” Jin Zixuan reminded her. “What don’t they dare?”

She pursed her lips, thinking it over, and for a moment he thought he’d won. “Perhaps,” she allowed, and before he could even breath a sight of relief continued, “But no matter. They’ve set the price, and we can pay it, so why not? We can cut off his hand and send it to them as a peace offering in advance. After all, they’re important allies of ours, and he’s just a bastard.”

“But –”

“No, A-Xuan. No more arguing; I’ve decided.” Her smile broadened. “We’ll do it now.”

Jin Zixuan couldn’t fight with his mother. He’d never had the courage – he was as spineless as his father.

Almost as spineless.

“Yes, Mother,” he said, and drew his sword.

“A-Xuan..?”

“My servant, my responsibility,” he reminded her, and he knew that she’d misunderstood, that she thought that he was going to go take care of the grim task himself. He knew, because for a brief moment in time she looked happy – not true joy, but the only way she ever looked happy for as long as he could remember, like she’d won one over on someone and gotten her way despite everyone’s efforts. He hated to disappoint her. “I have my honor to think of, too.”

Jin Zixuan sent Wei Wuxian to the Lotus Pier, bearing words of warning. His father’s spies had reported that the Wen sect would probably target them first, using Jiang Cheng’s interference in the Xuanwu cave as an excuse – there wasn’t any point going after the Lan sect a second time, and the Jin sect were longstanding allies of Wen Ruohan, with Jin Guangshan being a coward at heart; if Wen Ruohan could keep him out of the inevitable war for a little longer by playing nice, he would.

Word came back not long after that they’d been right: the Lotus Pier had been destroyed.

It also said that Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli were missing – missing, but not dead. It didn’t say anything about their parents, and that was suspicious, too.

Maybe sending Wei Wuxian had helped after all.

“We should reach out to the Nie sect,” Jin Zixuan told his father. “With our money and their strength, we can resist the Wen sect long enough for the smaller sects to catch up.”

“The Wen sect is all-powerful,” his father objected. “What’s even the point of resisting? We’d be better off reaching out to them to see if we can reach a peaceful agreement.”

“We’ve already seen what agreement they want to reach,” Jin Zixuan said, and his father’s gaze dropped guiltily to his waist. Jin Zixuan didn’t bother looking down himself. He didn’t do that much, these days. “Am I your heir or am I not? You promised me that I’d inherit a sect, not slavery. Reach out to the Nie sect.”

Jin Zixuan should not talk that way to his father. He had always been a filial son, and a spineless one; his father’s son, and nothing else. The only thing he had going for him was the right blood – and even that wasn't that sure a bet, these days. He knew his father was already thinking about Jin Zixun in a way that suggested that all those rumors about his ‘cousin’ having a different father than the one everyone said he had might have some merit.

It seemed, though, that when pushed to it, he was also his mother’s son.

He hoped she choked on the knowledge.

“Reach out to the Nie sect,” he said again. “With all the cultivation world uniting, the Wen sect’s fall is inevitable. If we don’t act now, we’ll be seen as cowards, hanging back and waiting to see how things fall out to eke out the best advantage – if we act, we’ll be seen as heroes.”

“But what if you’re wrong, and the Wen sect does win?”

“Then we’ll tell Sect Leader Wen that we’re perfectly positioned to negotiate the other sects’ terms of surrender, and use that to win anyway,” Jin Zixuan said, less because he thought that was an acceptable course of action and more because he knew it would be what his father would do anyway. “Call the Nie sect.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Jiang Cheng hissed, wild-eyed, and Jin Zixuan blinked at him, taken aback.

“Is it because I wasn’t able to do more to help with the Lotus Pier?” he asked, feeling helpless. “I really did try to convince my father to send more people, but I barely even got him not to block my sending Wei Wuxian –”

“Not because of that!”

Jin Zixuan took a step back. “Uh, then –”

“You cut off your own hand you maniac!”

“The situation –” Jin Zixuan started backing up. “It was necessary – Wei Wuxian, help!”

“No, he’s right,” Wei Wuxian said, arms crossed. His eyes were teary, but they’d been that way since he’d left Jinlin Tower – ever since the Wen sect’s letter. “You’re a maniac, and Jiang Cheng’s going to kill you, and you’re going to deserve it.”

Lan Wangji, standing beside him, nodded.

“It’s not that bad, really.” Jin Zixuan tried to explain. “My mother and father would never have accepted anything else – threats to me are the only thing that work on them, and even that’s stopped working after all these years. Only a real injury would have an impact. If they hadn’t been so shocked, they would’ve just continued to ignore what the Wen sect was doing, or offered them an olive branch, and then then the Wen sect would’ve used that as an opportunity to come and divide up everyone else. We’d lose precious time to regroup, and the Wen sect would only get stronger and stronger –”

“You. Cut. Off. Your. Hand!”

“The Wen sect demanded the hand of the person who started the rebellion in the Xuanwu cave,” Jin Zixuan said quietly. “That was me, not Wei Wuxian. Why should he pay my debts?”

Everyone still seemed very upset, but maybe a little less murderous. Definitely a lot more teary-eyed.

“Couldn’t you have at least picked your other hand?” Wei Wuxian mumbled. “Your right hand – that’s your sword arm.”

Jin Zixuan shrugged. “They demanded the right hand,” he said. “Anyway, it’s fine, I’ve been using my left, and it’s been going smoothly enough…you know, I think I might actually be left-handed? I never knew; everyone always made me use my right.”

“Does it hurt?” Lan Wangji asked suddenly, and Jin Zixuan hesitated, not sure how to respond to that.

Unfortunately, everyone else took that in the worst way possible, and insisted on taking care of him, no matter how much he tried to explain that it didn’t hurt, not really, not anymore; it was just the strangest feeling of absence. Like something that had always been there wasn’t there anymore.

A bit like his mother. She wasn’t talking to him anymore.

He was a terrible son, and would probably end up spending eternity in some afterlife hell being tortured for failing to properly honor his parents.

He’d already resigned himself.

“How are your parts of the war going?” he asked, trying to change the subject. “Chifeng-zun says it’s going well, but you know how he is; it’s all business with him, you never hear any stories. Did Wei Wuxian really knock out old Sect Leader Jiang when he refused to leave the Lotus Pier? Tell me he didn’t.”

“He did,” Jiang Cheng said, and he looked amused about it – maybe he’d be in the next boiling pot over in the afterlife of unfilial descendants. “He was a little frantic, you see, on account of not wanting to fail you by letting them die. After all, you had just cut off your own hand for him…”

“Are you ever going to let that drop?”

“Sure. As soon as you have two hands again.”

“…so, never.”

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng said patiently. “Never. Never ever, if that makes it clearer for you.”

Jin Zixuan’s new hand was made of steel and wire, under the gilding, and functioned using some of the innovative new talismans that Wei Wuxian had invented. He couldn’t help but hope that they weren’t part of the subset that constituted demonic cultivation because people were being really weird about that.

“It’s like people wanted for me to just die in the Burial Mounds,” Wei Wuxian complained. He was dressed in black and grey and red, which he’d apparently adopted as his new sect colors – Jin Zixuan had only managed to send him out of Lanling the first time by officially ejecting him from the Jin sect, a decision his father had initially endorsed but now, he suspected, was regretting.

It was a lot easier to throw out a servant than it was to invite back the founder of demonic cultivation, especially now that he was a war hero and a sect leader.

“You didn’t have to be in the Burial Mounds to begin with,” Jin Zixuan reminded him, to no avail. “I know I said I needed an army because my father wasn’t supplying us properly, but I didn’t mean ‘invent an entirely new cultivation technique and raise an army of the dead’. You know that, right?”

Wei Wuxian shrugged it off, because of course he did.

“You know, they’re calling me the Yiling Patriarch?” he said, and grinned. “It’s because the Burial Mounds are in Yiling, and because I’m founding my own sect. Or whatever. Like I wouldn’t be supporting you, anyway.”

“It has to be your own sect because otherwise you might be forced to share your secret techniques,” Jin Zixuan explained, not for the first time. “Rogue cultivators don’t have the same protections that sects do, even small sects. It doesn’t matter if you’re the only person in it. Or, well, you and Lan Wangji, I guess.”

“I still can’t believe he’s willing to leave the Lan sect to join me,” Wei Wuxian sighed happily. “He’s such a good friend.”

Jin Zixuan wasn’t sure about the strength of his new hand, which was the only reason he didn’t try to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. “You’re a bad influence, you know,” he said instead of trying to explain to Wei Wuxian that people didn’t generally leave their natal sects for the sake of a ‘good friend’. “I nearly hit a girl the other day.”

“You did? You? What’d she do?”

“She gave me soup and implied that she’d made it,” Jin Zixuan said. “Except it tasted exactly the same as the soup Mistress Jiang is always making for you – I’ve had it recently enough to know. Sure enough, I push the issue a bit and it turns out it was Mistress Jiang’s. The girl was just trying to claim credit as an excuse to get close to me.”

He sighed. He’d been so angry about it. They were at war! People were dying, losing their homes, losing everything, and this stupid girl could only think about how to plot and scheme to try to get to a prized position as the future Madame Jin. Had his mother done the same, when it’d been his father…?

“You’ve had shijie’s soup recently?” Wei Wuxian asked. His expression looked slightly odd. “Shijie made you soup?”

“Yeah, I think she’s been dropping off whatever’s left over at my tent when she’s done,” Jin Zixuan said, shaking his head. Jiang Yanli was so nice, really truly genuinely nice. He’d never met anyone like her. “Could you thank her for me? I appreciate the thoughtfulness – it’s filling enough that I don’t need to go to the mess, which means there’s more left over for everyone else.”

“…sure,” Wei Wuxian said. “I’ll tell her. Or, and here’s a thought – why don’t you tell her yourself?”

“Why would I? You’re the one she likes,” Jin Zixuan said, puzzled. “I mean, you’re her adopted little brother, aren’t you? She’s practically your second soulmate, after Lan Wangji.”

“I’m really busy,” Wei Wuxian announced, despite having been lazing around complaining that they didn’t have any encounters with the Wen sect lined up for a whole week only a few moments before. “I couldn’t possibly take the time out of my schedule to go talk to her – you see, I’ve had an idea, which is going to keep me very busy…in fact, I’m not even going to be here at all! I need to go to the Lan sect encampment to consult with Teacher Lan.”

Discovering that Lan Qiren had a mad scientist streak when it came to musical cultivation had been extremely disquieting, Jin Zixuan reflected. The world might’ve been better off if Lan Qiren had never had a chance to actually get friendly with Wei Wuxian – Wei Wuxian provided the terrible ideas, Lan Qiren scolded him about them and then helped him smooth the kinks out of them anyway.

Teacher for a day, father for a lifetime…

“All right,” Jin Zixuan said, though he still didn’t exactly understand what had just happened. “I’ll go talk to her, I guess.”

“I just wanted to make sure you know you’re not obligated to make me soup or anything,” Jin Zixuan said, not sure where this conversation had gone off the rails.

Probably around the time that Jiang Yanli had started smiling at him, because he always turned into an idiot whenever that happened. She was so very nice, not just average at all no matter what anyone said, and blissfully down-to-earth – she wouldn’t be wasting her time and everyone else’s thinking about how to politically advance herself despite there being a war on. She spent all her time learning field medicine and helping cook meals for the mess and –

And he’d better stop thinking because he was turning red again.

“I enjoy making soup for you,” Jiang Yanli said peaceably. “Especially since I know you enjoy it, too.”

“I do! It’s just, I don’t know, you already do so much, with the medics and organizing and everything…It’s – uh – I – listen, I know our parents – you don’t have to pay attention to that. I only have one hand, I’m not – don’t feel obligated, not because of that. And don’t let Wei Wuxian make you think making soup is the only thing you’re good for, no matter how much he likes it, okay? You do so much more than just that!”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, covering her smile with her hand. “You’re very sweet, you know.”

Jin Zixuan made an incoherent sound.

He would need to do something in return, he thought, a little frantic; he really didn’t know how to deal with a sincere compliment from someone he actually liked. Maybe poetry? Girls were said to like poetry. He couldn’t write poetry worth a damn, but he could pay someone –

She kissed him on the cheek.

All thought abruptly departed.

“Don’t worry, it’s not inappropriate – after all, we’re already engaged,” Jiang Yanli said cheerfully. “Which I’m very good with, so don’t worry about that. Good luck in your next battle, Jin-gongzi.”

At some point she must have left, because she wasn’t there anymore, and Jin Zixuan was still opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water.

Mianmian peeked in, then snickered. “Oh no,” she said. “She broke him. Everyone! Come look! She totally broke him!”

“Did you actually cut off your hand to save a servant?” Jin Guangyao asked.

“It was a bit more complicated than that,” Jin Zixuan said, uncomfortable, then added, “Welcome to the family.”

Jin Guangyao smiled.

For some reason, Jin Zixuan felt a shiver run up his spine. He didn’t think he liked this new brother of his, and he felt bad about it – he’d welcomed Wei Wuxian whole-heartedly, hadn’t he? Was it really that different when it actually was someone of his own blood?

He didn’t like that thought.

“I hope we can be friends,” he said, willing it to be true, and Jin Guangyao murmured something agreeable in return.

Jin Zixuan wished he liked him.

“My mother is going to hate you,” he said, because he knew that she would. “If she does, let me know, and I’ll try to stop her…not just her. If anyone treats you wrong, just tell me. I’ll stand up for you.”

Jin Guangyao smiled again.

“You’re so kind,” he said, and for some reason Jin Zixuan had the feeling that he didn’t mean it at all.

Jin Zixuan had been engaged since before he was born, and it still somehow came as a surprise to find himself married. Not just the event, either – these days he woke up with his wife in his arms and was forced to just stare at her lying there in the soft morning light and wonder how he got so lucky.

He was married.

To a very nice girl, who actually seemed to like him a great deal – she’d made that clear enough when she’d had a chance. Very clear, in fact, which was why there was also a very slight curve in her belly that meant that soon enough he wouldn’t just be married, but a father.

“You’d tell me if I was dreaming, right?” he asked Wei Wuxian, who was visiting again. He did that a lot, but in fairness he didn’t really have a settled place to live – everyone knew the supposed ‘sect’ he’d founded was little more than a sham. He’d been technically kicked out of the Jin sect and refused all offers to rejoin, and it seemed he wasn’t quite ready to scandalize the entire cultivation world by marrying into the Lan sect no matter what Lan Xichen had been hinting. Sometimes he and Lan Wangji spent time at the Lotus Pier with Jiang Cheng, or the Unclean Realm with Nie Huaisang under Nie Mingjue’s long-suffering gaze…everyone called Wei Wuxian the Yiling Patriarch, on account of him ‘founding’ his sect there – or rather, summoning up extra resentful energy from the Burial Mounds for the purposes of obtaining an army while minimizing the number of disturbed graves – but he wasn’t, not really. He didn’t live there or anything.

Who would want to live there?

“I would,” Wei Wuxian agreed, but he didn’t follow it up with teasing or anything the way he usually did.

He just looked very uncharacteristically perturbed.

“What is it?” Jin Zixuan asked. “Can I help?”

“No heroic bullshit,” Wei Wuxian said at once, which meant that there was a possibility of heroic bullshit. Given Wei Wuxian’s personality, that also meant that it was heroic bullshit that would be bad for the Jin sect, which he still felt bad about on account of them raising him and all…in all honesty, it might be a good thing in the long run that Jin Zixuan’s father and mother had been so awful to Wei Wuxian as a kid, and that he’d known it. If they’d been good to him, he never would have been willing to leave. “But, uh, remember Wen Ning?”

Jin Zixuan blinked. Wei Wuxian had told him some stories: a junior disciple of the Wen sect, from a branch family – Dafan Wen – who’d helped Wei Wuxian out a few times when he’d been smuggling the Jiang clan to freedom.

More than a few times: he’d been Wei Wuxian’s first disciple in matters of resentful energy, which Wei Wuxian had apparently been thinking of since forever and started playing around with more or less the moment he was no longer officially tied to a sect, and had been a valuable contact during the early period of the war before events had changed and he’d been lost.

“Yes,” he said. “What about him?”

He hadn’t thought of Wen Ning in ages, beyond abstractly hoping he was doing well. It might be hard, with a surname as he had, but surely there was somewhere in the cultivation world for those surnamed Wen – Wei Wuxian had argued fiercely in favor of leniency for the remaining Wen cultivators, and the Lan sect had backed him, thanks to Lan Wangji. The rest of them had been exhausted, Nie Mingjue, Lan Xichen, Jiang Cheng and his parents, even Jin Zixuan…his father had ended up volunteering their sect to help with resettlement of the refugees, which had been a pleasant surprise.

Sure, Jin Zixuan knew his father well enough to know that he was only doing it for the clout and possible advantage it would give him, but he was pretty sure the Wen civilians didn’t especially care why they were going to get a reprieve from death and a new place to live, only that they did.

“I’ll get there,” Wei Wuxian said. “It’s a bit complicated…you know how Jin Zixun’s in charge of resettlement?”

Jin Zixuan nodded, puzzled. “What about it?”

“You can’t do that!” one of the guards shouted at Wei Wuxian. “We’re disciples of the Jin sect –”

“Is that so,” Jin Zixuan said, and they all turned to look at him, each one of them blanching in utter horror. “And why didn’t I know that my Jin sect had such people as you?”

“Where’s Wen Ning?” Wen Qing asked Wei Wuxian, looking desperate. “I don’t see him…Where is he?!”

“That monster?” one of the guards blurted out.

“My brother is not a monster!”

“He’s been hiding in the woods,” one of the Wen civilians volunteered. “He’s been raiding the camp, rescuing people who are being abused –”

“Our response was reasonable in light of his aggression,” the guard argued. “He used demonic cultivation – he’s a monster! We had no choice –”

“We’re going to need to question them,” Jin Zixuan said to Lan Wangji, who was looking faintly murderous in his usual righteous sort of way. “To find out who’s their backing – Jin Zixun wouldn’t have dared something like this, not on his own. Can you bind them for me?”

It was his father.

Of course.

“A-Yao, what do you want?” Jin Zixuan asked, and Jin Guangyao stopped in his tracks, staring at him in confusion – as well he should, since he’d only come into Jin Zixuan’s study in order to say good morning on his way to breakfast. “No, sorry, that’s not what I meant. I meant, you know, in life.”

Jin Guangayo blinked at him.

Probably not the best question to spring on someone before breakfast, Jin Zixuan reflected.

“It’s about the trouble that my – that our father got into,” Jin Zixuan explained. “The other cultivation sects are furious to no end that he took advantage of their trust in order to do such a disgraceful thing…I’ve ordered Zixun to be confined for now, and I suspect he’ll have to be banished to some country house for a few years. And as you know, my father will be retiring soon and handing over the position of sect leader to me…”

Neither of them especially wanted that to happen, his father as loathe to give up power as Jin Zixuan was to take it. But what other solution was there after such a scandal?

The Lan sect, ever concerned with morality, had been horrified when they’d found out what had happened; the Jiang sect, despite their close relationship to the Jin sect, had immediately denounced it, and Jiang Yanli, who was Wei Wuxian’s friend, was the very first to speak. The Nie sect, never a firm ally for the Jin sect, was growling about righteousness, and if Nie Mingjue was sincere about that being his only concern – and having worked with the man, Jin Zixuan believed he was – then there were plenty of others in the Nie sect that had their eyes on the greater influence and power that would accrue to their sect if Jin Zixuan’s father were allowed to bring his sect down with him.

Handing over power was the only way to make sure their Jin sect remained strong.

“He won’t be alone, at least,” Jin Zixuan sighed. “I won him that much.”

Jiang Fengmian had agreed to step down from his position as sect leader as well, making it seem as though Jin Guangshan’s retirement were voluntary, part of a joint agreement of the older generation handing over power to the newer. Everyone would know in their hearts that that wasn’t the case, but it would be far less shameful than the alternative – saving a little bit of his father’s face.

“You did well,” Jin Guangyao said, listening with a neutral expression. “In uncovering everything, and revealing it.”

“I would’ve brought you in to help, but I couldn’t,” Jin Zixuan explained. “I know he asked you to help in finding demonic cultivators to join the Jin sect, and…”

He hesitated.

“He implicated me?” Jin Guangyao asked.

He had. Their father was shameless: he’d even sought to move all blame to Jin Guangyao’s back, whether as the actual mastermind or, when that was rejected, as the inciter of the scheme. Nonsense, of course.

Anyway, it didn’t matter. Even if Jin Guangyao had suggested it, it would have been his father’s responsibility to refuse.

“No one believes it,” Jin Zixuan said, which was only partially a lie. “Even Chifeng-zun laughed in his face and said you wouldn’t be nearly that stupid.”

Jin Guangyao looked – oddly pleased by that, if Jin Zixuan had to guess.

“Still, it’s awkward,” he said, rubbing his head. “People talk, and our subsidiary sects have never been as quiet as some others…you don’t have to tell me right now what you’re planning, or what you want in the long term. But maybe – uh – you have two sworn brothers. Is there any chance…”

“I could go visit them for a while?”

Jin Zixuan smiled helplessly. “I wish it weren’t necessary. And if you did know what you wanted, I could take it into account when planning the future…”

“No, no,” Jin Guangyao said. “Visiting my sworn brothers will be – fine.” He looked thoughtful. “You said Chifeng-zun didn’t think I was involved?”

“Zewu-jun was also vociferous in your defense,” Jin Zixuan said, trying to elide the fact that it wasn’t so much that Nie Mingjue didn’t think Jin Guangyao was capable of such atrocities, but rather that he declared, and loudly, that if Jin Guangyao had intended to do something horrific like that, he’d have handled it better. Judging by Jin Guangyao’s amused expression, he might have guessed anyway. “I appreciate your understanding.”

Jin Guangyao smiled.

Jin Zixuan thought he might even mean it, this time.

“I’m an uncle!” Wei Wuxian crowed, holding Jin Ling in his arms. “I’m an uncle, I’m an uncle!”

“Big deal,” Jiang Cheng grumbled, which would be more convincing if he wasn’t beaming foolishly. “So am I. Hand him over...hey, A-Ling! It's me, your jiujiu!”

“Can I be an honorary uncle?” Nie Huaisang asked – Jin Zixuan had no idea when he’d even arrived, or why he was here, or anything, really, but that was probably because he hadn’t really slept on account of over-excitement. “I mean, my brother’s sworn brothers with Jin-xiong’s brother, so it works, right?”

“That’s ridiculous –” Jiang Cheng started.

“No, I love it!” Wei Wuxian immediately declared. “That means Lan Zhan’s his uncle, too!”

“Wei Wuxian…!”

“Don’t worry,” Jin Zixuan said, hugging Jiang Cheng out of sheer excitement. “You’re his only jiujiu, right? Everyone else is related through me, so they have to share.”

Jiang Cheng seemed pleased by that, and Wei Wuxian laughed.

Nie Huaisang was calculating on his fingers. “You know,” he said thoughtfully. “This might be the most well-connected baby in the entire cultivation world? The only thing we’re missing is the Wen sect…Jiang-xiong, how about you marry Wen Qing? Then we’d have them all!”

“That is not how I’m determining my marriage!” Jiang Cheng yelped, but notably didn’t reject the idea.

Jin Zixuan looked at Jiang Yanli, who looked back at him, and they both started laughing.

There was more noise after that, and eventually Jin Ling woke up and started crying, making everyone start fussing like a bunch of old hens surrounding a long-suffering Jiang Yanli who’d already grown accustomed to it in a way the rest of them hadn’t.

It suddenly occurred to Jin Zixuan that everyone who was here was here because they wanted to be. Not because of his name or his wealth, not because he was Sect Leader Jin, not because of the circumstances of his birth, but just because they liked him – because they wanted to celebrate with him, and to cherish his child, to share his joy.

It was a good day.

All the days were a little good, but this one was especially good.

#mdzs #jin zixuan #wei wuxian #mianmian #jiang cheng #lan wangji #jin guangyao #jiang yanli #my fic #my fics #right hand man

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lipstickstainz · 4 years ago

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true lies - s. r. (12/?)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Series Summary: Spencer is furious, when you rejoin the team after a year and after you left him, when he got arrested. Little does he know, that you leaving him was the only option to ever get him out of prison.

Chapter Summary: A collection of letters Spencer and you share while you're gone - and then you're gone forever. At least, that what he thinks.

Warnings: some fluff, angst, angst, angst, smoking, slight ptsd, grief and loss

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: I'm sososososo sorry. please don't hate me. I love you. gif not mine.

Series Masterlist

previous part

Dearest little bear,

two months have passed since you had to leave, and not a day goes by that I don't think of you and wish you were here with me.

We are trying to do everything in our power to be able to bring you back home. But unfortunately, it seems to be taking longer than I would like.

I was told you were working on it as well. You are strong and smart and even though you can't be with me, I'm sure we can do it together.

Take care of yourself.

With love,

Neruda

Dearest Neruda,

I was very happy to receive your message. I always carry it with me, although I would rather be in your arms, but I can't.

I can't tell you where I am right now, but still I wish you were with me. It is warm and beautiful and I am sure you would like it here very much.

Except for these letters, I'm not allowed to talk to any of you, but I like talking to you best anyway. We've come this far. And we'll make it.

Thinking of you.

With love,

little bear

Dearest little bear,

It's been four months and with each passing second it becomes more unbearable. But a light is appearing at the end of the dark tunnel. We think we know who she is.

It won't be long before we can see each other again. And I can't wait to be able to hug you again. To be able to touch you. Or kiss you.

Not much longer. And then nothing can separate us.

Take care of yourself.

With love,

Neruda

Dearest Neruda,

It would have been too good to be with you again at last. But it still takes time.

I have found something that can help us, but for now, just know that I will do everything I can so that I can return home. Back to you. No matter what it costs.

Keep your eyes open. We're closer than you think.

I'm thinking of you.

With love,

little bear

Dearest little bear,

I was given time off to take a break. I was with my mother and she told me that a kind young lady had been here. She doesn't remember you, but she knows you are familiar and that she can trust you. As I do.

I am infinitely grateful. And I'm tired of waiting, but for you I do. For you, I do it all.

Take care of yourself.

With love,

Neruda

Dearest Neruda,

I can no longer grasp a clear thought, because whenever I close my eyes I see everything I have done in review. I can hardly sleep and the nightmares plague me.

I just hope that everything will end soon. It has already been a year since we saw each other. I can't promise you anything, but I hope you know that everything I had to do was for you. For us.

Thinking of you.

With love,

little bear

Dearest little bear,

it's been a few weeks since I've heard from you. I hope you are doing well.

We have found a trail that will take us further.And brings me a little closer to you. And that will bring you back home. I can't wait.

Take care of yourself.

With love,

Neruda

Dearest little bear,

It's been two months since you wrote to me.

Get back to me as soon as you can.

Take care of yourself.

With love,

Neruda

Dearest little bear,

Words cannot describe how much I miss you. Or how great the pain in my chest is.

I can't eat, I can't sleep. I can hardly breathe without you.

Thinking of you.

With love,

Neruda

Dearest little bear,

they hung your picture today. In the portrait you are smiling, proud to finally be part of the team. I can't look at it.

I was sent home, but everything there reminds me of you.

Thinking of you.

With love,

Neruda

Dearest little bear,

I keep your letters in a small box next to my bed. They are a part of you that I don't want to lose, even though I have already lost you. They are a part of you, just as you are a part of me.

Thinking of you.

With love,

Neruda

Dearest little bear,

I went to our bookstore and found a book of poems that you would like. I'll put it with your letters.

No book in the world could have prepared me for the grief I feel. The pain is too engaging for me to talk about it with anyone but you.

Thinking of you.

With love,

Neruda

Dear little bear,

it's been almost two years since we last saw each other. I don't remember what you sound like, or what you smell like. Why can't I remember that? Is it wrong of me not to think it's bad? It takes away my pain a little.

Thinking of you.

With love,

Neruda

Dear little bear,

A lot has happened in the two years we've been apart. Too much to ever be able to write down all the things. I just want you to know that this time was not easy for me. Not for any of us.

I put your letters away safely because you will always be important to me. But I have to let you go. And with this, I release you.

I love you. Forever.

With love,

Neruda

You pinch your leg to wake up. Your neck is wet with cold sweat and you have to blink several times to realize that you are in a cab. You run your hand through your hair as the driver looks at you curiously through the rearview mirror. He says nothing, which is why you glance out the window.

The drive from the airport to Quantico only takes an hour, but you still take the opportunity to close your eyes for a moment and doze a little. You haven't had a decent night's sleep in ages, you don't even know what a healthy portion of sleep feels like anymore, because you haven't had that luxury in the last two years.

As the car comes to a stop in front of the FBI building, you pay the driver and get out with your small bag. The building seems much bigger than you remember. You used to spend every day here, it had once been your home. But now you're not even sure you have a home anymore.

You take a deep breath and enter through the large doors, but are directly approached by a security guard.

"Miss? Are you visiting?", he asks suspiciously, extending his arm to keep you at a distance - something that wouldn't do him much good if you were actually trying to get past him.He eyes you up and down, which you can't blame him for. In your ripped jeans, dirty sneakers, and loose sweater, you don't look like someone who belongs here. By now, you don't either.

You look at him. "I'm here to see Unit Chief Prentiss", you reply coolly. You know he's just doing his job, but you're too impatient to let all this wash over you. You know Emily is already in the office. You know her too well not to. Why doesn't he just go get her? You just want to see your friend.

"Chief Prentiss?" He raises an eyebrow. "And what is your request?"

Your gaze is rock hard and your tone cold as ice. "Tell her Y/N Y/L/N is here to see her."

You wait outside the building, letting the morning sun warm your skin and the cigarette burn between your fingers before you put it to your lips and take a drag. Afterwards, you stub it out on a trash can. As you exhale the last bit of smoke, you turn around. And there she is.

Emily is standing at the door, and when you see her, you drop your bag and wrap her in your arms so tightly that you can't breathe. You cling to her, afraid that maybe this whole thing isn't as real as it feels, but you imperceptibly pinch your arm. And she is still with you.

"I thought - they said", she stammers, and it's the first time in your friendship that she's speechless. You hug her even tighter.

"I know", you answer softly, blinking away the tears that have formed in your eyes. The moment is too beautiful to cry. As you break away from each other, Emily wipes her own tears from her cheeks, but some have already landed on her blouse. There are dark stains now.

"I don't even know what to say", she says, smiling at you as you enter the building together. The guard gives you a look, but doesn't ask any questions as you walk past him toward the elevator. Inside, she pushes a button that takes you to the BAU floor. "I can hardly believe you're really here."

Neither can you.

The office is completely silent because no one is here yet except for you. Although nothing has changed, everything has changed because you are now someone else. It's been a long time since you've been here. Two years, but everything in this room is all too familiar to you. The coffee machine, the law books, the files. It feels like you've never been away. It's déjà vu all over again.

While Emily gets you both coffee, you sit down at the round table and wait for her. Your friend sets the cups down on the table before sitting down next to you. She smiles faintly. "How are you?"

You pucker your mouth. How are you? You haven't been asked that question in ages, and to be honest, you don't know how to answer it either. How could you possibly be?

When you don't answer Emily, she phrases her question differently. "What are you feeling right now?"

Your lips become a thin line. "I don't know. It feels like all of this," you point to the room, "isn't a part of me anymore. Nothing has changed, but it still feels foreign."

Emily nods. "You've been through a lot, I guess." She takes a sip of her coffee. "You're right, Y/N. Nothing has really changed here. But you're a different one now, aren't you?"

You open your mouth to answer her, but you don't know what either. Part of you feels at home here, but a bigger part of you knows your place is somewhere else. You just don't know where exactly.

"Do you want to see the others?", Emily asks. "I'm asking you because it's been a long time since you've seen them. And they think you're...you know. Are you ready for that?"

Are you ready for that? You haven't seen either of them in a long time, and it would probably be better not to see them for now, but to let Emily sort it out first. But the team is your family - the closest thing you have to a family. And you've missed them all terribly.

You nod and take a sip of your coffee as JJ and Rossi enter the room. When they see you, they glance uncertainly at Emily, as if they're not sure if it's just imagination, but she nods at them. And that's when all the dams break for JJ.

She pulls you from your chair and hugs you like the salvation of the world depends on it, and David has to pry her cramped arms from you so he can put his around you as well. They affirm to you how much they missed you and ask how you are, wanting to know what happened, but Tara and Penelope join them and that's when it gets too loud for you.

Penelope cries with joy and Tara also can't believe that you are standing in front of her. They besiege you and ask you questions to which you have no answers, so you just smile weakly at them. They definitely don't mean any harm, after all, you've just risen from the dead for them, but you've spent the last while in silence and are no longer used to this volume. So you turn away from them. They look anxiously after you as you sort of flee from them. You hope that this will make the headache go away.

Without paying much attention to where you're going, you find yourself facing the wall where the pictures of the deceased agents hang. And yours is hanging there, too. You don't know how long you've been standing in front of it - minutes? hours? -until a familiar voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

"Y/N?"

You turn around and there stands Spencer. His hair is a little shorter and he looks like he's seen a ghost. Well, he sort of has.

You want to throw yourself into his arms, kiss him, and never let him go. Seeing him knocks the air out of your lungs, which is why you can barely breathe. The two years without him had been hell on earth, but you got through them. For him.

For Spencer, who doesn't take his eyes off you as the blonde woman next to him, whose fingers are intertwined with his, looks at him and asks, "Honey, who's that?"

- tags -

@obsssedwithjustaboutanything // @ashwarren32 // @slytherinbth // @rexorangecouny // @candlemouse // @lexymoniqu // @m3sml // @username2002 // @calliecookie // @haylaansmi // @thehuntresswolf // @skyslowalking // @padsfirewhisky // @criminalminds4days // @criminallyoddsocks // @takeyourleap-of-faith // @vladsgirlxx // @justdianaz // @x2moonlight2x-blog // @countingthestarsinfinitely // @box-of-fandom-stuff // @sergeantbuckybarnes // @princesssmooshie // @sassiest-politician // @ littledm2000 // @a-broken-pact // @strawberry-tea // @sassy-hades // @danrad-rdj4ever // @takeyourleap-of-faith // @smell-my-twisted-shadows // @poeticsassandtrash // @wintrrrsoldier // @peaceluvnirvana // @jemimah-b99 // @lokislilslut // @advicefromnixxxx // @panicattheeverywherekid // @my-guilty-pleasures--of-life // @itsdars @pjmjams // @imagine-this-motherfucker // @sasbb23 // @fivedicksinatrenchcoat // @missyoumaybank // @blameitonthenight21 // @s-r-16 // @knee-coall // @hamlewis // @twodirtymindedgirls // @peoplejustcanthandlemywierdness // @imdefinitelyfloating // @crazyloca06 // @gardenroses1 // @saspencereid // @enchantedlove90 // @sizzlingclamturtlesludge // @moondustmemories // @bambi-is-my-name // @beg0neth0t420 // @william-shookespeare // @pancake2603 // @ayo-cowbelly // @herbstmelody // @frnks-stuff // @mimischaos // @lilxnvm // @archiveofadragon // @burnin-passion // @oddobsessionbutotay // @chaoticdreamsss // @ghostly-ginger // @knittingstudyblr // @gorbagreb // @biafbunny // @ayo-cowbelly // @ellyseveronica // @saspencereid // @takethee // @ethereal-stark // @shirayuki1204 // @spencerreidspp // @jesuswasnotawhiteman // @stinkykay // @exzidss // @ifuckinghatepinapples // @youhaveabadconnection // @kaseyjohnson04 // @vampiracontessa // @princesssmooshie // @gardenroses1 // @r0s3mm // @willyoulovemeinthemorning // @rrtxcmt // @softpeteparker // @littleiswhattheycallme // @hoeyadoingbitch // @emmariexx // @oops-all-ajs / @reidemandweep // @oliwisstephhh // @g0lden-cth // @measure-in-pain // @amesandpineapples // @spencerreidat3am //

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid series #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid blurb #criminal minds #criminal minds one shot #Emily Prentiss #tara lewis #Jennifer jareau #aaron hotchner

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avanatural · 2 years ago

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THE FEELS! 💗😭💘 Gosh, Wayne, what a read! 👏😍✨

Spoilers below the cut! 😉

It’s a night like any other as Y/N closes down her flower shop in the small coastal town.

She owns a flower shop! 😊💐 Is it me, or is there something inherently romantic about that? 💗

“I’m fine,” Sam nonchalantly shrugs next to him in a fucking t-shirt. He removed the flannel an hour ago and discarded it on the backseat.

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re not human. Freak,” Dean scoffs under his breath and shakes his head, making the younger Winchester chuckle.

Haha, love me some Winchester banter! 😂😆 Seriously, though, as someone who is always cold, I can totally feel Dean with this one 🥶😅

We could be at home in the bunker, slurping egg nog and watching Die Hard instead of freezing our asses off.

Oh yess, sign me up!!! 😍❤️

“What’s the address of the girl that witnessed the last death again?”

“Uh, Y/N Y/L/N. Lives at 302 Maplewood Street,” Sam reads from the neatly organized files in his lap.

It’s her!!! Poor Y/N 😟 I can’t wait for Dean to meet her! 💓💓💓

No matter how hard he rummages through the depths of his soul, the hunter can’t quite pin down his recent moodiness. It’s a feeling of dread, sadness, and anger that just bubbles up in his chest at random times and overtakes his whole body and mind before it disintegrates into thin air again like the ghosts he hunts. And maybe after all this time and all the wars and all the pain, it should be no surprise that he feels a little haunted, too.

This paragraph right here! 👆So sad and beautiful and so true to Dean! 🥺❤️

Hi, Dean Winchester – professional life-ruiner, cold-blooded killer, and ghostbuster extraordinaire. Pleased to meet you. May I interest you in something horrifying that most likely will cost your life or at least give you intense nightmares you never wished you had?

Sounds like a good introduction to me 😆😂🙈

And for the first time in what feels like forever, which for sure as hell is too long, his lips unfreeze and curl into a genuine smile, warmth filling and replacing the empty coldness in his ribcage that has dwelled there for a lifetime.

I’ve never read a more heartwarming description of love at first sight 🥺💖🍭 So fitting to the winter theme, too! ❤️

So, she takes midnight walks up and down the beach until the phone rings again and soothes the ache in her chest. The impossibility of wanting him right next to her each and every day until her dying breath rips her apart at the seams sometimes, her heart needing more stitches than it should.

My poor heart!!! 😭💘 There’s so much love dripping from every word ❤️❤️❤️ It must be hell waiting to hear from him, knowing that one day she might not 🥺💔

Dean heroically saved her life. Then, she moronically saved his and Sam’s.

Why can I identify with this so much?? Probably because I’m one clumsy human and imagining myself in any type of hunting scenario definitely includes the term "moronically" 😂😂 I love the contrast here! 👏😊💗

The older hunter yelled at her until he didn’t. Until she kissed him. Until she clasped his freezing palm and led him to the beach. Until she held him till his breathing calmed with the ocean, and they talked till the morning sun came with the first fall of snow.

She hasn’t been the same ever since that night. Neither has he.

This is exactly the kind of love that Dean deserves! 🥺❤️

“Yeah, I’m down at the beach like usual,” she sighs, drawing a pouting line in the sand with the tip of her shoe.

I’m obsessed with the term “pouting line.” I know I’ve said this many times, but your way of describing your scenes never fails to amaze me 👏👏👏 The imagery is wonderful and you switch it up constantly 😊👍🥰

“Wait… How do you know that? Did you check the weather?”

“Sure did,” it sounds behind her as clear as the star-filled sky above her. Her heart drops, jolts, rejoices at the sight of the hunter that so shamelessly stole it as he stands before her – tall, strong, and gorgeous smile included, like a scene from a romantic movie.

Ahhhhhh, he’s there!!!! 😍🥰💖 My heart just did the same thing as hers! 💘💘💘 It's really like a scene from a romantic movie! The kind of scene you just can’t help but smile at 🥰😊

A blazing warmth spreads through his chest, his chapped lips not able to deny her a smile, albeit his torn heart and broken mind still don’t fully understand how a gorgeous girl like her could even miss him at all.

Dean, nooo! No self-doubts, please! 🥺❤️ This makes the scene so bittersweet 💔💔💔

“Air,” Dean chokes out with a chuckling cough as he pulls back from her, his hot breath still ghosting over her swollen lips as his palms grip her waist tightly and keep her locked in his arms.

Haha, looks like she was about to kiss the life out of him 😂😘 These two are so adorable 😍😍😍 This little humorous moment makes the scene feel all the more real 🥰❤️👏

“Yeah, well, couldn’t wait a whole day’s drive to see you, so I flew here,” he shrugs coolly but can’t help the grin rising on his cheeks.

“I’m sorry, you what? You took an actual plane? But you hate flying,” she points out with an adorably knitted brow.

He flew. He FLEW. DEAN WINCHESTER took a PLANE to see her. Ladies and gentlemen, that’s love right there 😍😍😍 This is the sweetest twist I’ve ever seen 😭❤️👏

It gnawed on his heart that he never said it back. Because she deserves to hear it. Because living and breathing without her seem useless. Because having hopes and dreams is worthless if she’s not in any of them.

This makes me so happy and sad at the same time 🙈💗🥺 I can feel Dean’s pain from your descriptions 💔 It must have been tough for him to be away from her 😭💔 God, she’s such a perfect match for him 🥰😍

Perhaps, love is not supposed to feel real. It’s intangible, indescribable, and inexplicable, and if you applied all the criteria of reality, love shouldn’t exist at all. But as the first snowflake grazes his cheek, he opens his eyes and watches more white stars falling from the sky and covering the sandy beach under a soft blanket. And suddenly, love comes down all around him like the snow itself.

It’s not some weird, beautiful, unobtainable, and unmaintainable dream. It’s here. It’s now. And it’s her.

“I love you.”

I have no words for how perfectly you just described love ❤️❤️🥺👏👏

He stumps, his eyebrows quirking together so much it almost provokes a headache, which causes her to giggle. “How?”

Oh, Dean 😁 I feel like it’s so typical for him to be oozing with gestures of love and then be like “But how did you know how I feel?” 😂❤️

“Sweetheart, you know what happens when you kiss me like that.” Well, maybe he still had one clever comeback in reserve.

Oh, I don’t think she minds 😏😏😏

“Well, uh…” He clears the lump in his throat, and she must’ve noticed his nervousness, because not even a second later, she interlaces her fingers with his and gives him the reassurance he needs to continue. “For-, uhm, forever.”

Forever! He’s not leaving again 😍😍😍 Wayne, you went in for the kill and didn’t miss! You’re making me all emotional here 😭💖

This is so fluffy, beautiful, cute, romantic, and heartwarming ❤️❤️❤️ Such a sweet and somewhat angsty story, I feel like I need to go see a dentist after all the fluff you provided my poor little heart with! 🍭🍬🍫🍦 I can’t praise you enough for this masterpiece 👏👏👏 It was such a joy to read! 💗 I’m glad you didn’t kill her, even though I know exactly I would have loved it either way ❤️ Bravo, bestie! 🙌🥰

On The Beach

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: A few moons ago, on a hunt like any other, Dean unexpectedly met a girl who not only spun his head around in the blink of a literal eye but also made the brave hunter face some of his biggest fears to date.

Warnings: light language (very tame for me), a bit of emotional angst & grumpy Dean, fluff ❄️

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: Another day, another fic to a Swift song 🙃 The first draft had a very dark, unhappy ending, but I couldn’t bring myself to hurt those two precious babes, so enjoy some pure fluff, my loves! 💚🌌 Inspired by: Snow On The Beach by Taylor Swift ft. Lana Del Rey

Dean Winchester Masterlist || Main Masterlist

It’s a night like any other as Y/N closes down her flower shop in the small coastal town. She stores away a few leftover arrangements, counts the cash in the register, organizes the ribbons by color and width, and waters and prunes all the remaining plants in the greenhouse.

Keep reading

#fic rec #amazing writers #read this!#dean winchester x reader #💖💖💖

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jawabear · 4 years ago

Text

1 of 10 (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Not my GIF (look at this man...)

A/N: so here’s that Bucky fic I’ve been talking about. This took me too long to write but I like it? I’m absolutely loving Falcon and The Winter Soldier! I’ve mentioned this before but Bucky Barnes is my all time favourite fictional character. This is set before the events of episode one but maybe like a week or so before. I hope you enjoy. Sorry for any mistakes. Stay safe.

Genre: fluff, angst

Warnings: fem!reader, tfatws spoilers, Bucky being awkward, nightmares, therapy, Bucky isn’t as smooth as he was in the 40s but he’s still cute

Summary: Bucky has ten contacts in his phone. One of which belongs the the girl he feels he has been searching for for 106 long years.

The times in which he found himself now were more than confusing. But that was the best way Bucky could think to describe them. For him though it seemed a lot worse than for others. For others, they had a gap of five years missing. For Bucky, he had far more than that.

From 1943 to 2023 there was a lot missing. He remembered it however. He remembered everything. The good, the bad, and the horrifying. What was meant by missing was that it wasn’t him who was living. He had missed out on living between those years. He had missed out on everything. And he knew, like the billions of others, he would never get those years back.

But now he was a civilian. Working to make amends from his past after being given a pardon. However, settling into his new easy life was proving far from that. It had been a few months now since the whole ordeal with saving the blipped half of humanity, Bucky included, and it had been a few months now since Steve went back in time and started a new life leaving him and Sam behind.

Sam. Right.

Sam was an avenger. More so than Bucky could ever be. So he was off doing his avenging work while Steve’s shield gathered dust in a wardrobe somewhere he was sure. Sam didn’t have it in him to take up the mantle of Captain America. He felt the shield belonged to someone else. It was Steve’s. It only ever could be.

More often than perhaps Bucky would like, he would get texts from Sam. Asking him how he was and telling him about missions he was going on. Bucky never replied. He didn’t know how to half the time and he didn’t want to.

He didn’t know how he was. He didn’t know if he was okay. He was forced to go see a therapist but all he did was lie to her.

“Have you had any nightmares recently?” She would ask him.

Bucky would think back to the night before their meeting and all the others as well. Each night he’d have to be faced with the horrors of his past. Every mission he carried out. Every person he carelessly killed.

“No” he would answer. And it wasn’t like he was wrong in his answer. The things he saw in his sleep were not nightmares they were memories. The nightmarish horrors he was were his reality, so when he said no in response to her question, he found it difficult to be accused of lying.

There were few things he could agree with her about. But the one thing he could see eye to eye with her about was the fact he was alone.

Sure, he had Sam. But only when Bucky wanted to acknowledge him which had not been often as of recently. And as his therapist so kindly pointed out he only had ten contacts on his phone. But in his defence, he still wasn’t used to the whole world of mobile communications and internet. So his phone was basically redundant to him. His mind was still in the 1940s where you’d find a date, what would now be classed as, the old fashioned way. By looking in person and talking. Not just texting or swiping left or right on an app.

Granted, Bucky did try his hand in online dating but it was far too much for him. It wasn’t only hard for him to figure out but also he saw too much of people he didn’t even know. The openness of the internet was something that was mind boggling to him. So that was thrown out of the window pretty quickly.

But what his therapist had failed to note was one name in his contacts. The name of his neighbour and quite possibly the one he wanted to end his loneliness with.

Back in his time, when he didn’t just have the looks of someone in their 20s, Bucky was in fact quite popular and good with the ladies. But the ladies, he found, of this new age were completely different to the ones of his time. Not that there was a problem, he just knew that he couldn’t used the same moves now as what he could back then.

He met (Y/N), his neighbour, as he was first moving in. After coming back, loosing Steve and getting a pardon, Bucky thought it be best to try and start a new. He did that by moving back to his old home of Brooklyn. His old apartment was obviously gone and with little money to his name he couldn’t afford the one that replaced it. It was far to big for him anyway. But he managed to find a smaller more affordable one and he much preferred it. If not only for the quieter location then the others in the building too.

(Y/N) was the first person he spoke too when back in Brooklyn. She was sweet and kind when introducing herself. She offered to help him move in but he really didn’t have that much stuff to use in making his new apartment more homely. And he had no food either. So (Y/N) did the neighbourly thing and invited him in for some food. A meal of sorts although she didn’t have much food either at the time. Even so, it was nice for him to be in company for once. And it was such warm company. They didn’t speak about much but he learnt a few things about her.

And now, on most Thursday evenings, he’ll find himself with her in her apartment eating a meal, sometimes she’ll cook, sometimes they’ll order take out, but he enjoys it regardless.

It was clear from the offset that she knew who he was. He frantically explained to her that he wasn’t what he used to be anymore and explained the terms of his pardon and how he’s making amends. But he needn’t have waste his breath on it. She didn’t seem to care about it. About who he used to be. She told him that she doesn’t live in peoples pasts and that she wanted to get to know him for who he is, not who he was. Those words meant a great deal to him. And from that moment on he had fallen for her.

Bucky sighed as he dragged himself up the stairs to his floor. He desperately wished there was some way of getting out of these therapy sessions. But he was tied to them. He couldn’t stop going to them even though he wanted too. But there, it wasn’t really like he had anything better to do. Nothing but either sitting at home in silence or walking around busy streets constantly looking over his shoulder. Those were his only other options.

As he walked to his apparent at the end of the hallway (Y/N)’s door opened and she walked out dressed for the outdoors, it was getting cold so it was smart of her to be wearing a warm coat. “(Y/N)” he called gently to her. She lifted her head after locking her door and gave him a warm smile.

“Hi James” She said, she always called him James rather than Bucky. He didn’t know why but he didn’t exactly mind. “How was your session today?” She had memorised the times at which he went to his therapy sessions. She probably knew he schedule better than he did.

Bucky shrugged “the usual” he told her making her laugh a little.

“That bad huh?”

“I guess” he said scratching the back of his neck.

“Well, I’m heading to the store to get some food if you wanted to talk on the way? Don’t feel you have to”

“No, that sounds good” he tried to smile but it was a little awkward, but she didn’t seem to say anything and just motioned her head for him to follow.

The shop wasn’t too far away so it was a quick walk. Bucky wasn’t the talkative type, not really anyway. Especially not to someone he didn’t like. And Dr Raynor was someone who he didn’t like. He was sure that deep down she was a lovely person but he didn’t like the fact she was insistent in getting him to admit his feelings. Although that was her job.

It wasn’t long until they arrived at the store “so what happened?” (Y/N) asked as she picked up a basket.

“Just the usual...she asked me if I had a nightmare-“

“Did you?” Bucky didn’t answer and just looked away from her. “James, you know that it’s her job to help you. And it’s in your best interest to let her”

“I know...but at the same time...I don’t see the point. These things are mandatory. So if I don’t want to go then I don’t see it being helpful”

“I can understand that” her eyes flicking between two boxes of cereal as she inwardly decried in which one to get, but her indecisive nature got the better of her so she opted to get both. Her indecisiveness, Bucky thought, was incredibly cute. It linked in with her kindness, on their Thursday evening meals together it takes ages just to decide what to have. “But still,” she continued, Bucky following her like a lost puppy “like you said, it’s mandatory. And there are people who would love to be in your position. Getting therapy I mean. So you should at least make the most of it while you can”

“I mean...yeah. I guess. But...I don’t know I just...well it’s easier to talk to someone like you then it is to talk to her” (Y/N) smiled at little at this as she finished putting on the last few items before making her way to the till.

Neither of them said much else. Expect for (Y/N) making light conversation with the cashier as she paid although both (Y/N) and Bucky knew that the cashier really didn’t want to be there. Luckily it didn’t take long for (Y/N) to bag her items and pay for them before they were both leaving the store.

It had gotten colder outside then when they left originally. (Y/N) shivered and pulled her coat around her a little more before they both began walking back to their apartment building.

“So what is it about me that makes you find it easier to talk?” She asked, she brushed her hair from her face as a sudden gust of wind blew it out of place when she turned to look at him.

“Well...” he muttered shoving his hands into his pockets “for one, you don’t sit there with a passive aggressive notebook ready to write shit about me” this made her laugh a little, she always found it funny when he’d talk about this notebook Dr Raynor had. She didn’t really know why he hated it so much, and she knew she shouldn’t have found it funny but he never stopped her from laughing about it, in fact often times he would join in thereby encouraging her.

“Yes, that is something better I guess. Although, I’m sure I could find a notebook if you wanted” she teased.

“Oh god. Please don’t” He said holding back a smile.

“Anything else?” She asked him.

Bucky thought for a moment. There were many things about her that made it easier for him to talk to her, but he couldn’t list them all. For one, that would be embarrassing, and two he didn’t think he’d have the breath to do it. “Well-“

He was cut off when he saw (Y/N)’s smile fall and her pace began to slow right down to a stop. Bucky stopped and looked at her “everything okay?” He asked her, his voice full of concern.

She turned sharply to the side so she was facing the road “y-yeah..” she stuttered nervously “just...my ex is walking this way and I really don’t want him to see me”

Bucky felt a strange feeling inside him. He didn’t even know she had been in a relationship. It must’ve been a recent thing right? Unless it was a really bad break up in the past, or this guy had done something to her to prompt her being so on edge. Bucky turned to try and scope out this guy but he didn’t have a clue what he was looking for. So he reached over to her and pulled up her hood on her hoodie that she wore under her coat and pulled her into his side so that her face was hidden from view.

“Tell me when he’s gone” Bucky muttered to her. She nodded her head and let him walk her along the path, she kept her eye on the path ahead as best she could while still covering her face. But she was now more focused on two things, his arm around her and his wonderful smell. Never did she think she’d ever get this close to him. She never thought he’d let her, but here she was attached to his side with his arm wrapped around her, holding her protectively against him.

And his smell. It was just as comforting as she dreamed it would be. A mix of his cologne and what she could only describe as Him. All she wanted to do now was to just melt into his strong and warm embrace and just stay there forever.

In all her daydreaming she didn’t notice that her ex had long since walked by and they had reached the entrance to their apartment building and she didn’t tell him he could let go or that it was safe for her to walk properly.

Bucky came to a stop and slowly slipped his arm from her “I mean...I take it he’s gone now right?” He said a little nervously. (Y/N) stood up straight and pushed the hood from her head and nodded quickly, her cheeks burning in embarrassment.

“Yeah. Yes, right. Sorry. Yes. He’s gone. I um...I just wanted to make sure he didn’t suddenly turn around you know? That’s all” she said in an unconvincing tone. But Bucky himself was too flustered to actually care that she was flustered as well.

“Of course, that’s smart. Well we made it back” he said stepping up to the door and pushing it open for her. She nodded and thank you and quickly hopped inside the building, Bucky following after her.

The walk up the stairs was an awkward silence. They felt like teenagers after their first ever date. Who says something first? What do they even say? Luckily for them, this wasn’t a first date, and they weren’t teenagers. They were fully grown, mature adults. But that doesn’t mean adults can’t get flustered in the presence of their crush...right?

After what felt like hours, but was more like five painstaking minuets, they finally got to their floor and walked down the hall, both briefly forgetting that they lived right next to each other.

(Y/N) stopped at her door and placed her bag of food on the floor to fish out her keys from her pocket. “Uh...you want to come in?” She asked whilst fiddling around in her pocket to find the keys. “I know it’s not Thursday but we didn’t really talk as much as usual...” her voice seemed to trail off as she finally found her keys and put them in the key hole before unlocking the door. “You don’t have too..”

“I’d...like to...” he said in a soft voice with a gentle smile to try and put her at ease even though he too was freaking out inside. She smiled back and picked up her bag before walking inside her apartment, he did too.

They both made their way into her small kitchen and he made himself at home by sitting in his usual seat at her white kitchen table and she began to unpack the shopping “Do you want me to help?” He asked her as he went to stand up but she waved off his offer.

“No no, it’s fine. There’s only a few bits anyway” she told him as she began to pack each item away in its rightful place.

“So uh...” Bucky began quietly as he scraped his metal finger again the wood table. “This ex of yours...what’s the story there?”

Bucky was a little cautious of his words. He didn’t want to say anything to hurt or offend her but at the same time he wanted to know what about the guy made her so on edge earlier.

“Oh uh...” she muttered as she pulled two cups from her cupboard.

“You don’t need to tell me if you want want to. Sorry..”

“It’s fine” she assured him “nothing really happened I guess. It was just a bad break up. He didn’t really take it well and for a few weeks after that he just kept texting me and trying to call me. He came round to my place too to try and get me back. He never did know how to take no for an answer. But about a month ago he finally got the message and stopped all contact with me. Seeing him today...I was just worried that he’d try it all again”

“He sounds like a real asshole” Bucky said flatly making her laugh a little as she went about making some tea for the both of them. “But in his defence, if I lost a girl like you, I’d struggle with taking no for an answer as well”

(Y/N) let out a nervous laugh and almost dropped his tea cup from the shock of his comment but she was a little more used to his flirtatious nature that would sometimes make an appearance when they were in her apartment. After he told her about his boyish charms back in the 40s she noticed how he would often slip back into that era. It was cute to say the least.

She set down his tea in front of him and he flashed her a “thank you” smile before wrapping his fingers around it.

There was a brief silence in the room. She was greatly over thinking is earlier comment. But so was he. Maybe he shouldn’t have said it. He meant it though. But what if he had pushed the limit a little too far?

“What was the other reason?” She asked him, her finger nail scratching again the tea cup trying to avoid eye contact with him at all costs.

“Huh?” He questioned looking over the table to her.

“Earlier. You were going to give me another reason why I’m easier to talk to. What was it?”

Bucky’s muscles tensed as his fingers gripped the tea cup handle as he stared into the black tea she had made for him. “If I’m being honest...” he began slowly “I think...there are too many reasons why I find talking to you easier. But I guess one is that you don’t do it because you have to or it’s your job to. You do it out of kindness. And it’s...easier to talk to someone who’s listening because they want to. And yes, I get that Dr Raynor probably does want to help me but I also know that at the end of the day, it’s all for a pay check. But with you...you do it because you want to. Or at least...I think you want to”

“I do want to, James. I’ll always be around to ask if you’re okay. And to make you okay when you’re not. I care about you...”

“And...I care about you. Another reason I prefer talking to you is because...I like you...a lot. I just think you’re the most beautiful woman, and you have such a sweet and caring nature and a good heart that is wasted on me. But I can’t help but like you...” he couldn’t really believe he just said what he did. He wasn’t mean to tell her that. It was meant to stay a secret within him into the end of time. But there was a shift in atmosphere that just made it all slip out.

“You...you like me?” She asked, still not looking at him.

“Yeah...” he said. There was a little more confidence in his voice as he admitted his feelings towards her.

“I like you too..” she too held a little more confidence in her voice as she admitted her returned feelings. It felt...good. Especially since she knew he returned the feelings she had harboured for him since they met.

She stood abruptly and held her hand out to him. He looked at it and looked up at her again before taking her hand. She pulled him to his feet and a little close to her.

He smirked a little as he looked down at her “you want me to kiss you or something?” He said almost proudly.

“Yes..” she said “but first...I want to know something”

“What do you want to know?” He asked her. She squeezed his hand and dragged him out of her kitchen.

She lead him to her bedroom and noticed the worried expression on his face when he looked at her bed. This was what she wanted to know.

“You don’t have a bed in your apartment...” She told him quietly. (Y/N) turned her body so she was facing him completely, he cautiously lifted his hands to settle on her waist.

“I know...” he mumbled.

“Why?”

Bucky paused but he felt safe enough to give her an honest answer “I...I’m...scared. Of them”

“What is it about a bed that scares you?” She whispered, her fingers gently trailing down his cheeks. Bucky didn’t answer right away, for one he was to busy focusing of the beautiful touch of her hands, and for another, he didn’t really know the answer to her question. But he could take a guess.

“Because I...I don’t think I’ve slept in one since 1943. And I...after everything I’ve done...I don’t deserve to lie in such luxury...” his voice was quiet and barely audible, had it not been for the close proximity they were in, she probably wouldn’t have heard him.

“James...” she laid her forehead against his and he instinctively griped her waist a little tighter. The comfort and warmth she was bringing him was something he didn’t want to loose. She was someone he didn’t want to loose. He felt safer with no one but her. For once he actually felt...okay. But he felt he was holding her too tightly, but if he was she was wasn’t willing to tell him that.

“You know that you have no reason to be afraid. You are changing. You are becoming a good man. You do deserve to live in luxury, even if that starts with sleeping in a proper bed. Maybe it is scary for you...but...if you’ll allow me, I’ll help you face it”

“Please...” he whispered with a nod before pressing his lips to hers.

05/04/21

Taglist: @lunaserenade @phoenixhalliwell @slytherin4ever

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes fanfic #Sebastian Stan #tfatws #marvel #fluff #angst #fanfic

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yuta-nakamots · 4 years ago

Text

only human - d.sc

Pairing - Boyfriend!Sicheng x Fem!Reader

Genre - Angst, Smut, Fluff, Established Relationship!AU

Warnings - implied character death, description of having a stroke, unprotected sex, creampie, cock warming

Summary - You dream about Sicheng all the time and love telling him about them when you wake up. But this one, you hope to never see again even if it did give you a happy ending.

Word Count - 2.1k

A/N - I really did dream this about Sicheng but without the smut lmao I was so freaked out when it was happening

Written for the Dreams Unfold Event hosted by @neosmutcollective. Check out the masterlist here.

You were driving on the freeway to a destination unknown, accompanied by your boyfriend Sicheng and his close friend Lucas. The reason why Lucas was with you was also unknown. There were hardly any other cars on the road, your headlights casting a desolate glow in front of you.

It was almost completely silent aside from the quiet lo-fi music that Lucas was playing through the sound system until suddenly from beside you, “where is my arm?” Sicheng muttered. You paid it no thought, thinking he was just drowsy from sleep. “How is the road?” His voice rose at the end, as if he didn’t know what the word ‘road’ meant.

“It’s good babe, it’s not too bumpy or anything,” you answered, playing along with whatever charade he was putting on.

“My head...hurts,” he groaned, “and we spin?” At this rate you were getting really concerned. Looking over at him, his face was contorted in pain as he was curled against the door, showing that he wasn’t just spouting nonsense.

“Lucas,” you whispered, checking into the rear-view mirror for him, “call the ambulance,” you ask of him once you see that he’s awake. He did what he was told as you pulled over to the shoulder of the road. “Give me the phone,” you commanded anxiously, which Lucas gladly obliged to, probably because he had no idea what to say anyways.

“911, what’s your emergency?” The operator began.

Your focus was on Sicheng again as you tried to describe his state. “Hi, I was driving on the I-205 and my boyfriend began saying weird things and saying his head hurts and something is spinning.”

There was a slight pause as the operator took note of the situation. “Ma’am, did he mentioned anything else.”

You knew he had said other things but couldn’t remember exactly what they were. You watched as his right hand flew to his left bicep before he whimpered pathetically, “arm gone.”

“He keeps saying that his arm is gone, but it’s clearly not.” You relayed.

“And these statements, are they in full, coherent sentences?” The operator asked.

“No, not really.”

“Ma’am I believe he is having a stroke. Please give me an address or approximate area so I can send an ambulance your way.”

“Uh, we just passed exit 288 I believe, we’re pulled over on the right hand side of the road on the I-205.”

“Alright thank you, medical support will be there soon. Please stay on the line with me until they arrive.” You nodded as if they could see you. “Where were you traveling to?”

“I-I don’t really know…”

“Uh-huh,” the operator acknowledged as if you had said a real location, “and who are you traveling with?”

“It’s me, my boyfriend, and our close friend.”

“May I ask for all your names and your phone number?”

By the time you had given the operator all the information, you could already see the flashing lights of the ambulance as it approached. “I think I see the ambulance.”

“Alright ma’am, thank you for your cooperation and I wish you the best.” With that the line went dead. How odd.

You stepped out of the car and motioned for Lucas to do the same. As the paramedics came to greet you with a stretcher, you led them to the passenger door, opening it as gently as possible so Sicheng wouldn’t fall out. He kept moaning and muttering things incoherently though he was clearly in even more pain and was more confused than before as the paramedics situated him onto the stretcher.

You and Lucas followed them as they loaded him onto the ambulance and allowed them to do their job. They were hooking him up to machines to take his vitals and you must’ve looked awfully distraught for Lucas to speak up. “He’ll be okay, you know.”

“How do you know that?” You question.

Lucas shrugged, “I don’t know for sure but it’s better than saying he won’t be okay, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you sighed apprehensively, “I guess.”

There was a commotion coming from inside the ambulance and you saw them beginning to do CPR on Sicheng and his heart rate flat-lined. Something about this didn’t seem quite right. If he is experiencing a stroke, why would they be doing compressions? As far as you knew, a stroke dealt with the brain while CPR was meant for the heart. And weren’t they supposed to be doing all this on the way to the hospital?

After what seemed like only a few seconds, the paramedics stopped assisting him and their leader came up to you, “he is dead but we will take him to the hospital for clearance.”

“W-what?!” You exclaimed as the paramedic walked away. Lucas had to hold you back from going after them and only released you once the ambulance started to pull away. “He’s dead? He can’t be, there’s no way! I swear humans can survive a few minutes without a pulse...they didn’t even try to restart it with the AED!”

As you stormed over to get into your car and follow the ambulance, Lucas held you once again, bringing you into a hug. “Y/n, it’s okay,” he whispered, grasping onto you firmly, the rumble of his voice spreading through you.

“But Sicheng isn’t okay! You can’t just let him go like that!”

“It’s okay,” Lucas repeated, though this time you felt his grasp on your arm get tighter and almost as if he was shaking you. “It’s okay,” he said once more, “y/n, wake up,” he pleaded. Though the voice wasn’t his, it was Sicheng’s.

“Wake up,” you heard once more and you felt your realities shift as your eyes sprung open staring straight into Sicheng’s from where he laid next to you, your limbs flailing at your sudden consciousness. “Hey, calm down, it’s just a dream,” he told you, one of his hands coming to rest on your cheek.

“It was- You were- Th-they said you were dead! You had a stroke and died but they didn’t even help you!” You spewed.

“Baby, it’s okay, I’m right here,” Sicheng assured you, “look, we’re in our room, in our bed, and it’s 4am in the morning.” He could tell you still didn’t believe him entirely. “We are not in a hospital, trust me. This is our apartment, the one we bought together last year.”

As your sense started to return to normal, your brain finally wrapped itself around the situation and you swung a leg over Sicheng, straddling him before leaning down and kissing him. “I though you were gone,” you confessed, tears welling up in your eyes at the thought of losing him.

“I’m right here,” he promised between kisses, “I’m not going anywhere.”

You basked in the feeling of his lips on yours, your tongues entertwining as Sicheng deepened the kiss. He wrapped an arm around your waist before sitting up, both of your torsos pressed tightly together. As you settled back into his lap, you felt something poking into your thigh. You broke the kiss to look down and saw the clear bulge in his athletic shorts, confirming your suspicions. “Dong Sicheng, I can’t believe you’re hard right now, at this very moment.” He pursed his lips, his eyes going wide as they bore into yours, waiting for your next move. “I had a nightmare that you died and you’re turned on by that?”

“No no, I’m not turned on by that-”

“Then what is it?”

“I don’t know,” his hands flew up in exasperation, “I just woke up from you tossing and turning and it was like this.”

Resting your arms around his shoulders and bringing your forehead to his, you brought your bodies impossibly closer while ever so slightly shifting around in his lap to tease him. “I don’t believe you,” you told him with a smirk.

“Well are you going to help me or not?” He nearly pleaded, his hips pushing up against yours.

You snuck a hand past the waistband of his shorts, unsurprised at his lack of underwear. “I guess I have to,” you complied, grabbing ahold of his warm and pulsing length. You began pumping a hand up and down his cock, causing his head to fall to the crook of your neck. Sicheng left messy kisses across the expanse of your neck, and exposed collar, his hands going up your shirt to gently cup your breasts until he decided his was tired of it and began puling your shirt off.

The second it was off past your chest, Sicheng’s lips were already on you, covering the untouched areas of your chest, latching onto a nipple while his hand played with the other. You cradled his head almost as if he were a baby, with both of your hands getting lost in his soft brown hair. You let him suck and fondle at your breasts for a little while longer until the ache in your core grew to be too much.

After sliding your bottoms and near-soaked underwear off, you repositioned yourself above the head of his cock, using a hand to help guide his member into you. As you lowered yourself onto his length, Sicheng busied himself with kissing along your jaw, his hands moving to hold your hips once you were fully seated in his lap. Ever so slowly, you let yourself rise and fall on his cock, making him moan and lean backwards against the headboard of the bed.

Placing your hands on his broad chest, you used it to gain leverage as you began bouncing on his dick. Sicheng looked so pretty beneath you, his cheeks flushed a light shade of pink, his lips plump and slick, his skin covered in the slightest sheen of sweat. You continued your movements until you felt your legs growing tired, opting instead to draw mindless shapes in his lap. You relished in the way his slick member slid in and out of you, feeling so good when it stretched you out.

This tempo wasn’t all to Sicheng’s liking though, but he took matters into his own hands, his arms coming up from behind you, his fingers gripping onto your shoulders as he rolled the two of you over and began rocking his hips into yours. You wrapped your legs around him, allowing him to push deeper into you as he gradually started to go at a steady pace.

He let go of your frame in exchange for planting his forearms on either side of your head so he could watch your expressions as he got high off of his cock. Your eyes closed at the feeling of overwhelming pleasure when he hit the deeper parts of you, filling you up ever so perfectly. “Yes, just like that,” you told him as your walls were clenched around him, so soft and warm whenever he thrusted into you.

Sicheng started to let out little whimpers as he continued thrusting, a sign that he was getting close. You reached a hand down to stimulate your clit, wanting to come with him while he moved to sit back on his knees, pulling your body further down the bed. In this position, he began drilling into you as he desperately chased his high. “Let me do it,” he breathed when he saw your hand between your legs. He pushed it away and quickly replaced it with his own, his thumb drawing circles onto your clit.

You heard his breath hitch and felt his hips stutter as his length twitched inside of you. Sicheng pushed himself to be fully connected with you as he released in your walls, shallowly thrusting as if to milk his own dick, “I love you,” you quietly blurted. The feeling of his hot cum spreading in your core brought you to your own orgasm, your muscles fluttering and spasming around him. Sicheng held you as you powered through your own release on his member, not wanting to lose the feeling of warmth around him just yet.

“Fuck, I love you too,” you answered as you started coming down off your high. You could feel the mix of your juices start to spill out when Sicheng set your hip back down onto the bed and moved to lie on top of you. His cock was softening inside of you but you didn’t mind it all that much since you were already on you way to sleep again though hopefully with a more pleasant dream this time.

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dhwty-writes · 3 years ago

Text

On the Benefits of Trancing

This is a bit late, but was in fact written for Day 2 of sgtober, Can't Sleep. It's very fluffy, have fun reading!

Summary: There are several reasons why Essek prefers trancing over sleeping. Firstly, as difficult as it may be to leave yourself vulnerable for eight hours at a time, he finds it even more challenging to imagine his friends defenceless. Secondly, sleep, inevitably, will give birth to dreams. And no matter if they are foul or fair, they torture him all the same. And lastly, well—.Essek reminisces about the strange habit of sleeping and his even stranger habit of sharing his bed with Caleb whenever he can't sleep.

Warnings: None, as far as I’m aware

Read on AO3

Sleep is a curious thing, Essek muses, that he doesn't understand and hasn't particularly cared for up until this point. It is a childish thing, and wild and vulnerable and oh-so terribly time consuming. Truth be told, for most of his life he has pitied the other races who are forced to bow to the whims of nature in that way.

Like so many things, that changed when he met the Mighty Nein. Well, not when he met them necessarily—back then he may or may not have been quietly plotting their demise for returning his carefully stolen beacons—but certainly when he started travelling with them.

As many aspects of elven cultures are, trancing is a solitary activity, a silent contemplation of one's most private thoughts to better cope with them. Shock and surprise don't even begin to cover his feelings when Caleb first cast his dome and Essek found out that sleeping, as many things for the Mighty Nein, is a rather communal event.

He had eight whole hours to come to terms with those implications—did they not realise what it meant, the trust one had to place in another to sleep in front of them? Did they not care? Or did they, by some miracle, in fact trust him that much?

When he came out of his trance the next morning, he realised some of the members of the Nein had moved during the night, curling closer to and around each other. Cuddling, they called it, and Essek's pity melted away, turning into something more bitter, more poisonous. Envy.

There is something about sitting upright, floating a few inches off the ground while surrounded by people holding each other that can make you feel so incredibly lonely, and that has to say something. Nearly a century of solitude spent between too-large, too-empty towers, too-secretive and too-pious schools, and a too-scheming and too-paranoid court have never left him feeling as isolated and bereft as that morning with the Nein did.

Of course, back then he didn't have the words to describe the feelings swirling in his chest. Nor did he have the words to ask for them to include him in their affections, lest he be presumptuous. That, to quote Caleb Widogast, takes time. Surprisingly little of it, if he is perfectly honest.

A few months down the line, he stopped floating while trancing and when he resurfaced the next morning, he found himself leaning against Fjord, who had taken the last watch. When he jerked away in embarrassment, Fjord blinked awake, too, a disgruntled look on his face, growling that he should stop moving around so much.

Despite his shame, Essek complied and held completely still until the rest of the Nein woke up. After that, he began to dabble into the casual intimacy his friends share. He even tried to sleep, occasionally.

In the beginning, he felt very self-conscious about it. He would wake up with messy hair, or drool on his pillow, or, worst of all, tucked close to Caleb. Another effect of the Mighty Nein, though, is that they very quickly rid you of your sense of shame. So, he no longer cares if he looks a mess, if his clothes are rumpled, or if he's getting spit on Veth's backpack. Just the last thing he can't help but feel embarrassed about.

There are several reasons why he still prefers trancing, though. Firstly, as difficult as it may be to leave yourself vulnerable for eight hours at a time, he finds it even more challenging to imagine his friends defenceless. He much prefers being able to watch over them for at least half of that time.

Secondly, sleep, inevitably, will give birth to dreams. And if sleep is childish, wild, and vulnerable, dreams are tenfold so. He often contemplates his crimes during his trances, as well as the discarded timelines, the lost possibilities that could have led to even more death, destruction, and despair. He frequently considers members of the Assembly lording their victory over him, disposing of him, torturing his friends. However, in his trance, he can choose to abandon these timelines. Dreams offer no such luxury. Once in their cruel grasp, you have no choice but to see them through.

Nightmares are one thing, but dreams are another. Even the pleasant ones often come unbidden, worming themselves through his subconscious to pluck out— What exactly Essek should call them, he isn't sure. He wouldn't dare name them wishes or hopes, for that would imply a certain level of possibility for them to come true. These visions are desires, more like, though that term implies a certain passion that does not fit the circumstance.

These unsought fantasies often include the Mighty Nein, years or decades from now. How they would still seek him out, include him in their midst. He dreams of feasts and festivals, of hugs and humour, of truthfulness and trust. And then there are other, even more forbidden dreams featuring him and Caleb. He dreams of soft kisses and gentle caresses, lazy nights spent in the tower reading books, of research and adventures and normalcy, of waking up as close to each other every day as they do from time to time on accident. He would love his future to look like this, but he knows there is a very little chance for that.

So, no matter if the dreams are foul or fair, they torture him all the same.

And lastly, well—

There is a knock on his door and Essek's heart lurches. "Come in," he calls as calmly as he can manage, forcing himself to slowly close the book he hasn't been reading instead of slamming it shut and scrambling to his feet.

The door opens silently, as all doors within the tower do, and Caleb slips inside. He's wearing simple sleeping clothes and Essek silently curses himself for already closing the book, so he can't even pretend to read that instead. "I, ah— I'm sorry for intruding... again," Caleb says, self-consciously tugging at his sleeves. "I hope I didn't wake you?"

"Not at all," he answers, barely keeping himself from saying: 'I was waiting up.' Instead, he opts for: "I was still reading."

"Anything interesting?"

"Are you trying to tell me that you have stored uninteresting books in your mind, Caleb Widogast?"

"Plenty," he deadpans and Essek chuckles.

"It's called The Creation of Silver." He turns the plain cover over to Caleb, to jog his memory. Based on what he could gather by skimming the first pages, it promises to be a rather run of the mill romance novel following the story of a Dwendalian noble trying to escape their arranged marriage. "So far, I find it quite entertaining."

"Ah, yes." Caleb quickly glances away, a faint blush colouring his cheeks. "Have you reached the part where Stefan leaves for the city yet?"

"I have not."

"Then I will not spoil you." Another tug on his sleeve. "The plot really picks up at that point."

Essek tilts his head to the side, studying Caleb. According to the clock in his room, it is past midnight, which is quite late for the human to still be awake. Yet, he is just hovering in his doorway, caught between stepping inside and leaving again. "I presume you did not come here to discuss my evening reading matter."

"Ah..." He tugs at his sleeves again. "No, I did not." As always, Caleb is as incapable of voicing his needs as Essek is.

Thankfully, Essek is not nearly as apprehensive when it comes to his friends' well-being as he is when his own is concerned. "Should you have trouble sleeping, you know you are more than welcome to stay. Seeing as we are to make progress tomorrow, I am very invested in you having a restful night."

Not being able to sleep is another thing about that practice that Essek cannot understand. Trancing is a matter of will, discipline, and tranquillity and he's always assumed sleep to be the same. He supposes it is, to some degree.

But travelling with the Mighty Nein, and Caleb specifically, has taught him that you cannot force sleep. There are circumstances under which they will toss and turn for hours, unable to find rest. Not even Beau's meditation, which he considered relatively close to his trance, seemed capable to calm a disturbed mind enough for sleep.

He has, however, also discovered that for certain members of the Mighty Nein, certain methods will accomplish the necessary peace of mind. Caduceus' tea appears to be able to work miracles, time and time again. Beauregard likes to tire herself out by running drills, while Jester usually draws in her sketchbook. Yasha tends to make flower crowns or, lacking flowers, braid other people's hair. Essek has been subjected to that numerous times so far and despite his aversion to Dynasty braids, he doesn't hate it. Fjord usually ties sailor's knots, and Veth sorts through her various collections.

Caleb, though? Caleb, for some reason, only needs another person to fall asleep next to. And for some reason, despite the numerous options he has, he chooses Essek more often than not. Not that he's complaining, of course. In fact, he may enjoy it a little too much.

Caleb laughs quietly as he often does at their antics. They have long since learned the rules to this strange game they are playing. "Well, if you put it like this..." he says as he rids himself of his slippers—Hausschuhe, he has explained to Essek, a very important part of Zemnian culture—and puts them next to Essek's. "I would hate to disappoint you, Herr Thelyss."

'You couldn't,' he thinks as he pulls back the covers. Instead, he says: "Indeed." As always, he freezes in place when Caleb joins him on the bed, scooting closer until they are nearly touching. Being this close to each other is not getting any less mortifying, no matter how long it has been since Caleb first came knocking on his door.

He still remembers that night in vivid detail. As so often, Essek has been reading and just got up to get a cup of tea. When he stepped out of his rooms, he nearly collided with a wizard who had convinced himself that his suffering wasn’t important enough to trouble him with. “Do you want to come in?” he said to his own surprise. To his even bigger surprise, Caleb accepted.

They sat on Essek’s couch and talked about everything and nothing at once. Hours later, with his throat gone dry, Essek asked: “Shouldn’t you be asleep by now?” The moments the words left his mouth he knew he’d said something wrong.

Caleb shot to his feet as if burned and Essek followed suit. “I am so sorry, friend. I will not continue to disturb you any—”

“Where are you going?” he interrupted him, perhaps a little irritated. “Give me some credit, Caleb Widogast; I am capable of far subtler ways to rid myself of an unwelcome visitor. Which you are not.”

He laughed self-consciously and said: “Regardless, I should go and rest. Schlaf gut, Herr Thelyss.”

“You could stay,” he blurted out before he could stop himself. “I mean—I noticed your sleep to be more restful when you are around others. I am aware that I am not your first choice, but since the others are not here—You’re welcome to stay, if it at all helps.”

Caleb hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Certainly.”

“In Ordnung,” he answered finally. Essek is still glad he had thought to float for that conversation. That way, at least, his knees didn’t give out.

A short discussion about who should take the bed followed before they stubbornly agreed to share it. Essek came to regret that immediately after when he was confronted with the practical implications of ‘sharing a bed’.

“Make yourself at home,” he said. Caleb took some time to rearrange the pillows and blankets—just like he does now—while Essek hovered nearby. Literally.

It took several reminders from Caleb for Essek to not instinctively recast his floating cantrip, but eventually they managed to lie down next to each other with a minimal amount of awkwardness. They have moved past that initial apprehensiveness by now, Essek thinks while he pretends to read. Shortly after, Caleb flops down, close enough that Essek can feel his breath ghosting over his cheeks.

“Good night, Caleb Widogast,” Essek says, stubbornly staring at the pages and nowhere else. "Do you want me to dim the lights?" He doesn't need them anyways; he just likes to appreciate the room Caleb made for him in all of its colours.

"No, I think I would like to read a bit. I am quite fond of that book."

"You are?" Essek looks down to him in surprise. ‘If Caleb tilts his head,’ the thought hits him, ‘he could rest it on my shoulder.’ He just thought it to be one of the countless books Caleb has read in his life, nothing special. "Why?"

He blushes again. "Ah— I think you'll see. The title is more literal than one would assume."

He considers the book once more, trying to discern what Caleb means with his words. ‘Luxon help me,’ he sends a silent prayer. It wouldn’t be the first time for him to pick up a romance novel that turns out to be quite a bit more explicit than anticipated. To think that such a mistake may have happened to him with Caleb so close—He thinks he might just combust from embarrassment.

"Do you mind flipping the page?" Caleb asks with a yawn, startling Essek out of his thoughts.

"Oh, of course," he says belatedly and turns the page. He hasn't read the last one yet, but nor has he read the one before, so it hardly matters. The novel has a rather shallow plot, so he has no trouble picking it up three pages later, and he's done so by design.

“Thank you.” He yawns again, louder this time and burrows down further into his pillows. “Gute Nacht, mein Schatz,” he mumbles and freezes as if he only now realises what he said. He seems to wait for an answer, but when Essek fails to provide a wrong one, he just smiles up at him and says: “Schlaf wohl und g’sund, bis morgen früh’s Kaffeele kommt.”

“I don’t understand you,” Essek tells him just as quietly, “but you can translate tomorrow.” After a moment of hesitation, he adds in Undercommon: “Sweet dreams, my dear. I’ll be here when you wake up.” He quickly glances back at his book before he can do anything stupid. Such as regret his words. Or kiss him goodnight.

Still, with Caleb reading along he does his best to at least somewhat read the novel. It’s a very flowery language, occasionally dropping Zemnian words Essek doesn’t know. Judging by Caleb’s grumbling at least some of them appear to be wrong. The protagonist, Stefan, seems like quite the bore. He does have a strong motivation, he supposes, to escape from the dreary life that awaits him in his arranged marriage. Besides that, and his general cold-hearted demeanour, he can’t discern any defining characteristics.

He finally reaches the part Caleb asked him about—Stefan leaving for the big city—when another character is introduced, presumably his love interest. He appears to be about as compelling as the protagonist, until— Essek snorts quietly. “Caleb Widogast,” he chides softly, “is this a love story about wizards?”

At first, he doesn’t answer and Essek briefly considers the option of Caleb wilfully ignoring him. Then, there’s a barely audible snore. When he glances down in surprise, the human is leaning against his shoulder, soundly asleep. He noisily chews on a strand of his hair, a bit of drool dripping onto Essek’s shoulder.

For a moment he can’t help but stare, a dopey smile on his face. He quickly arrives at the conclusion that something as disgusting as that has absolutely no business being as endearing as it is. But for some reason he doesn’t mind at all.

Moving carefully and slowly, in order not to disturb Caleb’s sleep, he puts down The Creation of Silver. It is getting rather late and he probably should begin his trance, if he wants to wake before Caleb's inevitable departure.

He leans back, wiggling a bit to find a comfortable position. He thinks he's doing a good job of not rousing Caleb until the human grunts quietly. Essek freezes, fearing he may have woken him, but instead of opening his eyes, Caleb just shifts closer to him, throwing an arm and a leg across his lap to hold him tight.

Essek looks down at his... friend with a fond expression. After a moment of consideration, he reaches down to brush the strand of hair behind his ear.

Sometimes, he feels like he can barely contain all the love he feels for this man within himself. One day, perhaps, he might even find the courage to tell him so.

Zemnian Translations:

Hausschuhe - slippers. In fact a Very Important German thing. Can't wear your normal shoes indoors, so you need special house shoes. Schlaf gut, Herr Thelyss. - Sleep well, Mister Thelyss. Gute Nacht, mein Schatz. - Good night, my darling. (lit. treasure) Schlaf wohl und g'sund, bis morgen früh's Kaffeele kommt. - Sleep well and sound until tomorrow morning the little coffee arrives. (My Caleb is Suebian now and I don't take criticism. I was writing this when I suddenly remembered this sentence my parents used to say to me and I thought if my sleep deprived brain remembers things like that, it would only be appropriate if Caleb's did too.)

#critical role #critical role fanfiction #shadowgast #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #the mighty nein #my writing #sgtober2021

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immaturityofthomasastruc · 4 years ago

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Master Fu: Master of Failure (200 Follower Special)

Mentors are some of the most important characters in all of pop culture, as they help the protagonist advance in his journey while helping them improve in skill and personal growth. Because of their vital role, mentors tend to be among some of the most memorable characters in their respective franchises.

Mentors can be a variety of people, from wise sages, to former soldiers, to just regular people with a strong moral compass. What matters is the impact they have on the hero, and the role they play in the story.

Master Fu does a poor job at accomplishing both of those qualifications.

Like, well, basically every bad thing in Miraculous Ladybug, the ideas behind Master Fu were interesting in concept. The problem was the execution, or rather, what little we got with Master Fu. Yet he still manages to be memorable (no pun intended) for all the wrong ways. But before we get into Master Fu, let's get into a problem with Miraculous Ladybug in general that plagues several characters and plotlines.

Order of the... What Exactly?

Despite being “the last known member of the Order of the Guardians”, Master Fu hasn't really explained much about the Order he's from. All we really know is that he was trained to guard the Miraculous and distribute them to worthy people. And the Order does this... why exactly?

This is a huge problem with Miraculous Ladybug, the underdeveloped lore behind a major part of the story. Despite being connected to the Miraculous, you know, the magical artifacts the show is named after, we still don't really know much about why they were formed in the first place, and what their connection to the Miraculous is.

Oh wait, the origin of the Miraculous actually is explained... in an issue of the tie-in comic.

Someone seriously thought it was a good idea to explain that Kwamis are connected to abstract concepts like creation and destruction, and how the Miraculous were created, both very important things to learn, AND THEY DID IT IN A GODDAMN TIE-IN COMIC THAT ONLY LASTED THREE ISSUES!

I shouldn't be expected to read supplementary material to understand the backstory of a show. You don't need to watch Star Wars: The Clone Wars to understand the tragedy of Order 66, so why would you expect your audience to read a comic book to understand the origin of the magical objects that give your main characters superpowers?

Even the explanation we got isn't that detailed. Okay, fine some guy created the Miraculous to give the Kwamis tangibility (which actually explains how they can phase through solid objects), but... how and why? How was this sage able to see Tikki, how was he able to create the Miraculous, and why did he do it?

This extends to the Order of the Guardians as well. How and why were they formed? What exactly do they even do besides guard Miraculous? Why do they even guard the Miraculous in the first place? We even learn more about their methods, and trust me, I'll get to that later.

In Xiaolin Showdown, the pilot episode of all things explains why Shen Gong Wu are so important, and why the Xiaolin Dragons dedicate their lives to protecting them, because they maintain the balance between good and evil, and if they fall into the hands of evil, the world could fall into 10,000 years of darkness. Yeah, the first episode actually does a good job at explaining the backstory of the show, who would have thought? And it's from a show that has a better representation of Chinese culture when this is what the main character looks like.

Overall, the Order of the Guardians is an underdeveloped concept that does very little to help out Master Fu as a character. If the backstory of a character is so vague, how can we even understand the character's motivations in the first place? And by God, are Master Fu's motivations confusing.

Master of Not Doing Anything

Before I started working on this, I saw a video review of Miraculous Ladybug by someone who had never seen the show before, and only did so because one of his friends said they would start watching One Punch Man if he did. Even though he only mentioned Master Fu a few times, he described him as “a dude with a jewelry box full of superhero bling”, and felt like that was all those unfamiliar with the show needed to know. As someone who is familiar with the show? Yeah, that's basically all Master Fu is.

Despite being classified as a mentor, Master Fu doesn't really do a lot of mentoring. Sure, he occasionally talks to Marinette, but whenever things get rough, all he really does is hand out a Miraculous for Marinette to give to someone else temporarily.

And I've said it multiple times, but the Rent-A-Miraculous system is a horrible idea. Not only does it require Ladybug to basically leave Cat Noir to fend for himself while she rushes over to Master Fu, she has to think of an ideal candidate for the Miraculous she takes, find said candidate, rush back to where the Akuma is, hope Cat Noir wasn't incapacitated by the Akuma, and then haul ass to Master Fu's place to return the Miraculous as soon as the fight's over.

The idea of introducing new heroes is interesting, but because we see them so rarely, they don't really feel that important. I get that the title is “Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir”, but I just wish the show would do more with the temporary heroes, like see how it affects their lives. Unfortunately, I can't, thanks to “Miracle Queen”, as usual. I'll get to that episode again later on.

Even when Master Fu takes out the Miraculous, he doesn't really help Marinette think of which one to choose. He just says something like “Take a Miraculous, but be sure to return it to me when you're done.” It doesn't matter, because Marinette apparently knows how all fifteen Miraculous in the box work. Hey, wouldn't it have been nice to see Master Fu actually teach Marinette how every Miraculous works? Maybe have him suggest which Miraculous to take based on the Akuma's powers? I'm just saying, maybe you can take time away from Ladybug and Cat Noir fighting a giant baby to actually give more focus on other characters.

Before that, he was just planning to do nothing and hope Ladybug and Cat Noir could reclaim Hawkmoth's Miraculous for him. According to Tikki in “The Collector”, Marinette isn't even supposed to see the Guardian, and only met Master Fu because she found the Grimoire. So despite being “Guardians of the Miraculous”, he doesn't even help out the random people he decided to give Miraculous to? It's a miracle Ladybug and Cat Noir survived an entire season without any real guidance from Master Fu.

The third season tries to do something by having Master Fu train Marinette to become a guardian, but all of the training is entirely offscreen, and by “Feast”, he just says that her training is complete, and then makes her a guardian against her will in “Miracle Queen”.

Then there are moments unrelated to the Miraculous where he fails to actually be a mentor. Everyone knows about how stupid it was that the writers wanted the audience to sympathize with Adrien for threatening to quit being Cat Noir while Paris is flooded, but this also could have been a moment where Master Fu helped him talk about his feelings, or maybe dispense some wisdom about how hard it is to understand if someone actually trusts him or not. You know, act as a mentor to Adrien?

But instead, they brush over this potentially interesting character moment, because that would actually imply that Adrien has flaws. Because we all know Astruc loves to show the audience that Adrien Agreste is basically the second coming of Jesus Christ, right? And even though the episode making a big deal about Adrien not knowing Master Fu, they really don't have any meaningful conversations outside of that episode, except maybe “Party Crasher”. Though the episode does have Master Fu taking action when Ladybug is incapacitated by the Akuma by giving a Miraculous... to someone he barely knows swimming in Adrien's bathtub. Even he regrets his choice a few minutes later.

And then there's the fact that despite it being his job to guard the Miraculous, he does literally nothing to figure out where the Butterfly and Peacock Miraculous are. Sure, he briefly talked with Marinette about Gabriel possibly being Hawkmoth in “The Collector”, but she did most of the investigating in that episode.

Hell, “Sandboy” establishes there's a way to contact Nooroo, the Kwami of the Butterfly Miraculous, on his birthday, but Master Fu turned it down, so they did it behind his back! For the love of God, this is a chance to figure out who Hawkmoth is and bring the conflict with him to an end, and you're passing it up?! In “Heart Hunter”, Master Fu says that Hawkmoth “talks a lot, but hasn't achieved much so far”, but you could easily apply that to Master Fu himself.

Outside of giving Miraculous to Marinette to borrow, what has Master Fu actually accomplished in the story? Maybe his backstory will shed more light on him as a character, and won't just make him look even worse.

The Bungled Backstory

One of the most frustrating things about Master Fu's backstory is that it actually has some pretty good buildup.

In “The Collector” we learn that Master Fu made a mistake that led to the destruction of the temple the Guardians operated out of, and the Butterfly and Peacock Miraculous were lost in the process. This does a good job at setting up the mystery of what Master Fu did to destroy the temple in the first place. It continues in “Sandboy”, where Master Fu's worst nightmare is him heing haunted by the ghosts of the guardians he accidentally killed, and then we see in “Backwarder” that Master Fu had confidants to help him keep the Miraculous safe from what are assumed to be the Nazis. Because I guess guardians get to share their secrets, but not Ladybug and Cat Noir?

And then we learned the full backstory in “Feast”. Much like how “Oblivio” and “Cat Blanc” killed any chances of me ever showing any sympathy to Alya and Gabriel respectively, I lost all respect for Master Fu after watching this episode.

We learn that Fu was chosen to be a guardian at a very young age, and had no other choice but to start his training. One day, he was assigned to watch over A Miracle Box as a test for twenty-four hours without any food, water, or sleep. He decided to use the Peacock Miraculous to create a Sentimonster to get him some food, but his anger corrupted the Sentimonster that made it go on a rampage to eat the Miraculous in the temple... and somehow set the temple on fire judging from this shot.

In my main blog, I had originally made a post calling out Master Fu for what he did, but since then, I've mostly softened up. This is just a fan theory you are free do disagree with, but I like to think that Fu was supposed to use a Miraculous during the test. Maybe he was supposed to use the Mouse Miraculous to get some food while one of the clones sat and watched the box, or use the Horse Miraculous to sneak to the kitchen.

My problem comes from how his backstory affects his actions, and makes him look like a complete hypocrite.

Even though he hated the fact that he was basically drafted to become a guardian when he was only a child, he saw no problem handing out Miraculous to children who weren't that much older than he was when he burned down the temple. I don't even think he should even qualify as a master. His title shouldn't be “Master Fu”, but something more along the lines of “Acting Master Fu” on account of the other guardians burning to death.

Say what you will about Zordon for recruiting teenagers with attitude to become the Power Rangers, but what makes him more likable than Master Fu was that he actually cared about them. He routinely gave them advice, never really lost his patience with them, and understood they had lives outside of their jobs as Rangers. Hell, he was even willing to let them retire to peruse major opportunities in their lives, like Jason, Zack, Trini, and Kimberly, because he knows what it's like to be trapped in a situation that prevents him from living a normal life.

In fact, if Fu really hated being forced to become a guardian, why did he have no problem doing the same thing to Marinette? If anything, Fu should hate the Order of the Guardians, but it's never really explained what really motivated him to continue their practices.

Usually, a backstory related to a supporting character is meant to be followed up by the main characters doing something so history doesn't repeat itself. Anakin Skywalker was driven to the Dark Side because he was afraid of losing someone close to him, with the Jedi Order giving him no support due to their rules against personal attachments. This ideology is subverted in the original trilogy when it's Luke Skywalker's compassion for his father that motivated Anakin to rebel against the Emperor and fulfill his destiny as the chosen one.

But instead of learning from past events, or maybe realizing the Order of the Guardians was never as noble as we were led to assume it was, Master Fu just upholds their tradition of enlisting child soldiers to protect these world-ending artifacts while barely doing anything to help them out. And nobody ever acknowledges there might be anything wrong with the Order.

The Cowardly (and Hypocritical) Turtle

Despite being established to be 186 years old (which still hasn't been explained), and the destruction of the temple happening when he was a child, Master Fu hasn't really done anything with his position.

Despite having all the time in the world, as well as a Miraculous that lets him teleport anywhere, he still hasn't found the missing two Miraculous that Gabriel managed to find at least 129 years after he lost them, give or take.

There's also the fact that, at least, according to the flashback in “Backwarder”, Master Fu may or may not have chosen to sit down and let several historical atrocities and conflicts happen because he didn't want to risk losing the Miraculous. You know, minor things like the Taiping Rebellion, the Crimean War, World War I and II, the Rape of Nanking, the Cuban Missile Crisis, the Tienanmen Square Massacre and God knows what else. What did Master Fu even do while he ran around the world to keep the Miraculous safe anyway?

These both factor into the biggest problem with Master Fu as a character: He's a coward.

Whenever he's confronted with a tough situation, Master Fu's first instinct is to run away and hide. As soon as the Sentimonster that destroyed the temple returns, he takes back Marinette and Adrien's Miraculous and runs away. As soon as Hawkmoth finds out about his existence, he packs up his stuff and runs away. When he's captured by Hawkmoth and Mayura, he gives up his position as Guardian and forces Marinette to take on the role, so he can run away safely.

And once again, despite hating the Order for forcing him to train to become a Guardian, Master Fu has no problem with forcing Marinette, someone who was only a few years older than he was when he was drafted, to become the next Guardian of the Miraculous, all while conveniently losing his memory in the process, which implies that Marinette will lose her memory when she retires as Guardian. I once made a submission to Terrible Miraculous Ladybug AU's joking that he only made up the whole amnesia thing just to dump the responsibility of being Guardian on Marinette, but with his appearance in the Season 4 teaser, I'm genuinely worried that may be true.

And yet, despite every incompetent thing he's done, the show keeps trying to portray Master Fu as this wise old soul, because like with so many characters, the writers think if they keep saying things that aren't true, the audience will just give up and accept these ideas as fact. “Master Fu is a wise mentor”. “Alya is a good journalist”. “Ladybug and Cat Noir are equal”. “Chloe is irredeemable”. “Gabriel is a sympathetic villain”. “Lila is a good liar”. “Thomas Astruc responds to criticism like an adult”.

And I'm not against the idea of a flawed mentor either. I already talked about how complex Dr. K is as a character, and how her connection to Venjix makes her an interesting mentor. What I want is for the narrative to acknowledge that Master Fu is way out of his league. I want someone, anyone, to actually call him out for how poorly he's handled things. I don't want to be told he's a great mentor when the evidence clearly shows otherwise.

But it seems like we may never get that in the show, even though it looks like he's going to return in Season 4.

Let's just hope Master Su-Han is a better mentor, and actually appears in more than a single episode before being escorted off so Marinette can't have any confidants as Guardian. Who am I kidding? That's basically what's going to happen.

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harryspet · 4 years ago

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good girl. bad habits. [1] peter parker

[Warnings] alpha!peter parker x omega!reader, omegaverse, boarding school au, dystopian au, soultmate au, spanking, teacher/student, physical abuse, misogyny, plot now/porn later

A/N: warnings should be explanation enough! this is probably going to have two parts :)

POSSIBLE TRIGGERING CONTENT AHEAD

In which you’re forced to attend a school for Omegas and you meet an Alpha that’s destined to shake up your world.

word count: 4.2k

main masterlist

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Wanda grabbed your hand, examining your nails with wide eyes, “Where did you get nail polish?” She whisper-shouted, trying not to draw attention to the two of you in the large auditorium. There were rows of girls surrounding you, all of them lacking any sort of individuality because of the stupid dress code.

“I traded for it,” Wanda raised an eyebrow and you sighed, “I’m doing her homework for Mr. Rogers for the next week. Worth it, right? Red looks good on me.”

Wanda gave you a disapproving look but you were quite used to it, “Trading?” Wanda scoffed, “You make it sound like we’re in prison.”

You only frowned, folding your hands in front of you, “That’s the only word I would use to describe it.”

Before Wanda could argue, the deafening sound of a microphone blasted through the auditorium, signalling that the assembly was about to begin. Mistress Romanoff stepped onto the platform, wearing her usual striking red hair and a black pencil skirt that hugged her curves. All the male teachers lusted for the Beta woman but you only felt jealousy. You wished your uniform skirt hugged your curves rather than dropping to your knees.

She carried the mic with her, clipboard in hand that held the contents of the meeting. It was the crack of dawn and you were running on little sleep but that wasn’t anything special for you. If you wanted anytime to yourself, you had to utilize the time after midnight which meant you often forgoed sleep.

“Good morning, ladies,” She addressed you all, her face lacking a smile or compassion, “You’ve already completed two months of the semester. A majority of you are passing your classes with flying colors. I hope you finish the semester just as strong as you started it ….”

That two months felt like a year to you. You’d spent the summer in a detention center and you were apparently “lucky” to be sitting here instead of there. In reality, you preferred the girls at the detention center over this school because they at least had spines. The girls here were mindless followers just hoping to please whatever men they had in their lives.

“As you all know, at the Stark School, our most popular event is the Halloween Ball. You know, a select few girls are chosen to attend based on merit as a reward for a job well done. This year, I have spectacular news concerning the event that I think all of you ladies will be glad to hear,” There were impatient, excited whispers that roamed over the crowd. You witnessed Wanda whispering something into the ear of the girl beside her. You only yawned, waiting for the assembly to be over, “This year, a select few males from the Asgard School for Alphas will be in attendance-”

Mistress Romanoff was interrupted by an overwhelming reaction from the crowd which consisted of loud squealing and gasps, “Ladies, please calm down. I know you’re all excited but don’t be too rash. There are still several weeks until the Ball. I would advise you all to be on your best behavior and to get your grades up if you want to be considered.”

You wanted to vomit in your mouth. The male teachers were worse enough. Being around young, Alpha males sounded like a complete nightmare. Wanda was freaking out beside you but you had tuned her out. With your current grades and disciplinary record, you’d end up at that Ball when hell freezes over.

You should’ve known that the Halloween Ball would consume everyone’s conversation for the rest of the day. It seemed you were the only one in the entire world that didn’t care. Except for Wanda, you didn’t really have any friends here and today was only adding to that isolation you always felt.

“Let’s go off script today and talk about our goals and aspirations. I often get a lot of questions from you all about advice on the plans for your future. This isn’t exactly Omega history but I figured we could use history in order to help guide us …”

As you sat in class, your eyes weren’t on the board in front of the class but out the window. The school consisted of long corridors, tall ceilings and tall windows. The ancient building sat in the middle of a forest in an area that you did not know. After the judge decided where you’d spend your senior year, they drugged you and brought you here.

You were only half listening to Mr. Rogers as he gave today’s lecture. The paint on your nails was far more interesting. Besides that, you hated how people only raised their hands to agree with him. Looking across the room at Wanda, you could see how in love she was with him.

“Throughout history, we see Omegas taking on a softer and more gentle role in our society, especially in females. Omega females are natural nurturers as well as natural followers. Can someone tell me why this is unlikely to change?”

You rolled your eyes as someone raised their hand, “It’s because it’s in our nature. It’s how the Goddess created us.”

“Exactly,” Mr. Rogers agreed with a smile, “There are leaders in our world and then there are followers. Both positions are equally as important. You can’t have one without the other,” You’d heard this type of lecture a million times and most of the girls at your school gobble it up, “There are a lot of options for omega females. After you meet your mates, the possibilities essentially become endless. There are many nurturing and low stress jobs. I know many Omegas who are secretaries, florists, and even preschool teachers. Most become homemakers and motherhood is the absolute most important job an Omega can have.”

You couldn’t hold in your scoff but, as soon as it left your lips, everyone’s head turned towards you, “What?” You asked no one in particular but to show that you didn’t want to be stared at.

“Miss Y/L/N, is there something you would like to add to the discussion?” Mr. Rogers asked and, although he was beginning to make your heart race, you only crossed your arms.

“No, thank you,” You spoke simply.

“I apologize if I’m boring you but this is a pretty important topic. Why don’t you tell the class your aspirations for the future,” You expected for him to move on but the Alpha seemed to focus in on you. You hated the feeling that crawled under your skin when you looked into his eyes. It was a force, a wall between the two of you to remind you that you were not equal.

“I’d like to be mate free, far away from this school, and on a beach somewhere rolling in cash,” Everyone in the room seemed to freeze, eyes widened, and the tension grew thick, “Consider it a five year plan.”

“And you expect to make money how?” Mr. Rogers began to pace in front of his desk, an annoyance in his glare towards you.

“I don’t know but hopefully I’ll make more than a teacher,” You grinned.

Steve stiffened and you saw Wanda look over her shoulder to you. “Stop it,” She mouthed to you.

“I’ll just move somewhere else. Somewhere they don’t treat Omegas like second class citizens.”

The class erupted in gasps and, for a moment, you felt quite powerful, “Stand up, right now,” Mr. Rogers snarled. You did as he said, knowing you wouldn’t be able to disobey a command.

You reached down to grab your backpack, “I know, I know … to the Head Mistress’s office,” You rolled your eyes.

“No, leave your things,” That made you pause and you looked up to see a smirk on his face, “Come up to the front of the class, Miss Y/L/N.”

You let your bag drop to your side with a thud. Everyone around you was still whispering and staring. You felt that power drifting away as you made your way down the aisle and towards the front of the classroom. Skirt too high on your thighs, nail polish on your hands, and an attitude on your face that you were struggling to maintain.

You stopped a few feet in front of your teacher before he said, “Hands on the desk,” He ordered you. You huffed out a sigh, every bone in your body telling you to obey. You walked past him, putting your hands down on his desk which left you slightly bent over with your backside exposed to the room of forty girls. “This, young ladies, is important for all of you to see. There will always be some who resist their true nature and who cause disruption.”

You heard the sound of him removing his belt from the waistband of his pants and your body cringed.

You’d heard that things like this happened often here. You heard the head mistress had a secret closet of tools she used on disobedient omegas. You’d never heard of a Professor disciplining a student in front of an entire class.

You wanted to scream and shout but decided that remaining stoic would save you the most embarrassment. Even as he lifted your skirt, you didn’t say a word, only shut your eyes tightly, “Whatever career path you choose, your mate will have to approve. This is not because you are second class citizens but because your mate will know what’s best for you. Ranks are ingrained within us and, no matter how much we fight it, we still end up in positions like you. If we only stayed in our lanes, others wouldn’t have to enforce their rank.”

The first slap of the belt burned badly. You couldn’t help but cry out as your knees buckled together and you tightly gripped the wood of the desk.

He kept going, forcing the class to count along as he completely bruised your bottom. He stopped at fifteen but, by that time, tears were already streaming and you were silently weeping.

The next few weeks passed in a blur with your usual routine of going through your classes like a zombie and listening to Wanda’s ramblings. Like a lot of girls, Wanda already had an Alpha with his eyes set on her. Bucky Barnes, an older man and well respected Alpha had already staked his claim. Wanda’s current mission was to have as much fun and attention that she could before being forced to settle down.

You started to notice how Wanda’s usual group of friends was dwindling as she continued to sit with you. Although she often disagreed with your mentality, she still stayed which was more than anyone had ever done for you.

“Are you really going to run? Escape?” She asked in a whisper as she discussed the forbidden topic.

“Why would I stay? No Alpha will want me. Not even a Beta would,” You only shrugged, stirring your spoon around your bowl of soup.

“That’s not true,” Wanda insisted, “You just …. you just have to adjust a little more. I think you could be happy eventually if you just played the part for a little while. An Alpha could offer you security.”

You shook your head, “I don’t like the cost. I think I’d rather scrub toilets for the rest of my life.”

Wanda rolled her eyes at your words, “I don’t think you would, Y/N. There’s got to be a part of you, deep down, that wants the stability.”

You didn’t answer the question and you didn’t allow the thought to stay on your mind, “Don’t worry about me, just enjoy your dance. Who knows? Maybe you’ll find another Alpha and you can watch them fight over you.”

Wanda smiled, a dreamy look in her eyes, “That does sound wonderful, doesn’t it?” Not long into your conversation, you felt a tapping on your shoulder and a woman telling you that you’re needed in the head mistress’s office, “What did you do now?”

“Nothing,” You said immediately, grabbing your things, “You can have my pudding cup. I’ll see you after last period.” Wanda only nodded, a look of worry on her face as you were escorted away.

The woman, who you assumed was some type of secretary, advised you to fix your appearance. The Stark School was like an old castle with vast hallways and tall ceilings of stained glass. Mr. Rogers told the class one time that it had been used as a fort in a war hundreds of years ago. People thought it was an interesting fact but the antiqueness of everything left you feeling creeped out most of the time.

You arrived at her office after climbing the winding stairs of the tallest tower. Mrs. Potts was waiting by the window when you entered. You kept your hands folded, hiding the nail polish on your fingers as you waited for her to address you. She stared out of the window, out to wear P.E. classes were being held, and your eyes wandered to the large wardrobe in the corner.

You gulped as you realized that was probably where she kept her weapons of discipline, “How are your studies going, dear?” You turned your head to find her staring intently at you, “Come, sit down.”

You moved forward, obeying the Alpha Females commands, and taking a seat in front of her desk, “Well, I’m not failing anything,” You spoke tersely.

“I heard,” She nodded, taking a seat behind her desk. She straightened the jacket of her black suit as she folded her hands over the desk, “That’s a big improvement, Y/N. That’s actually why I wanted to talk to you.”

You raised an eyebrow, “To talk about my improvement?” You put the word “improvement” in quotes.

“Exactly, when you first arrived you started with at least one infraction a day. Now you’re down to one a week. I can tell you’re learning and that you’re adjusting well.”

“Are you letting me out of here earlier then?” You asked, your head cocked to the side.

Pepper only chuckled, “Here’s what I’m offering you - a chance to go to the Halloween Ball.”

“Why would I want that?” You asked.

“When the school year is over, you won’t have many options. If you get back on suppressants, you’ll be caught and end up back in the Council’s bad graces. It’s my job to help you and I don’t want to see that happen,” You could tell that she was being sincere but there was still the ulterior motive of simply getting you out of her hair, “You’ll go to the ball, maybe you’ll meet someone willing to take you in and give you something better than what you can give yourself.”

You frowned, “I’m assuming you’re not giving me a choice.”

Pepper sighed, “You have over fifty infractions, Y/N. Any other student would have been kicked out by now. Just take this chance.”

It was quite amusing to you watching the group of boys and girls meet each other. They both seemed to be an inexperienced group of teenagers awkwardly trying to figure things out. The girls stood on one side and the boys stood on the other for the first ten minutes of the dance before a brave boy walked over to ask a girl to dance. Now, the dance was in full swing and you were sitting by the snack table, easing your anxiety with cookies.

Wanda loaned you a long white dress and allowed you to cut it into something off-shouldered with a slit down the side to expose your thigh. You watched Wanda who was dancing happily in a champagne pink, ruffled dress.

The Alphas that passed you only stared, probably wondering why you weren’t bashfully batting your eyelids at them. Another thing that added to your anxiety was the energy they gave off. You could handle class with Mr. Rogers but being in the ballroom was putting you on edge.

You sat through a few more loud pop songs before finally standing up and heading for the exit. As you made it to the door, you heard an out of breath Wanda calling for you. You turned to see her pulling a boy along with her, a look of lust in his eyes as he gazed at her. He wasn’t what made your breath hitch in your throat, it was who was behind him.

“Y/N, this is Brad,” She gestured to the boy whose hand was interlaced with hers, “And this is his friend Peter.”

Peter.

Something made you do a double take. You didn’t recognize him but you felt your world shift at the sight of him. You felt your heart rate increase as she felt something foreign … attraction. A kind face that didn’t match those brown eyes that screamed danger. In those few seconds where your eyes lingered on his, you questioned every feeling you’d ever had.

“I’m going … on a walk,” You told Wanda, not addressing them.

“Take us with you to get some fresh air,” She winked at you, knowing what you were hinting at.

Your shoulders slumped but you nodded, “You’re lucky there’s enough in my stash.”

You turned around and pushed open the gymnasium door and led the three of them into the hallway. The four of you did your best to avoid any chaperones, dipping into a custodian's closet when you heard the tapping of heels coming your way. Like you had planned it, you switched on the light and ran your eyes over the many shelves.

“How did you even get it?” Wanda whispered.

They did bed checks often and a lot of the administrators were fond of combing through your dorm room thoroughly.

“I’m cool with the janitor,” You answered simply, shrugging. As you found the empty container for disinfecting wipes, you reached in to find what you were looking for. You felt the young Alphas eyes burning into you as you presented it to the group.

A flask.

You tilted the silver container back, swallowing quickly in an attempt to not taste the vile liquid. Not meeting his eyes, you held the flask out to the side for him to take. The four of you were making your way to the lake. Wanda and Brad, stuck in their own world, had wandered ahead which left the two of you to awkwardly walk beside each other down the dirt path.

When he didn’t take it, you glanced at him, “I don’t think that’s going to get me drunk,” He said, tucking his hands into the pockets of his tuxedo. His tie was undone, hanging around his neck and the first few buttons of his white shirt were undone. You couldn’t help that your eyes lingered on the skin of his chest and he seemed to notice. He flashed you a curious look but you turned your head again.

“Suit yourself,” You took another sip, scowling as you pulled it from your lips.

The four of you arrived at the lake and it seemed Brad and Wanda couldn’t keep their hands off of each other any longer. After taking a big swig out of the flask, she told you that she and Brad were going to go “check out” the storage cabin where the school kept lake gear. She giggled as he pulled her away, leaving the two of you along on a picnic bench, staring out onto the eerie, dark water.

“What’s your last name?” He asked and a part of you was frustrated that he was trying to make small talk with you.

“You wouldn’t know my family,” You said simply.

“Try me,” He challenged you like the cocky Alpha you assumed he was.

“They’re dead, it’s not like it matters.”

“How?” He continued, “How did they die?”

You gave him an incredulous look, “Do you always ask girls about traumatic topics when you first meet them?”

“You don’t seem like most girls I’ve met.”

“And I guess that’s an excuse?” You scoffed but his expression didn’t change. He seriously wanted to know, “They were rogues and they died like everyone else who defies the Council. Happy?”

“I’m sorry,” Was his curt response.

An Alpha apologizing? You never thought you’d see the day.

“What’s your last name?”

“Parker,” Your eyes widened as the name left his lips.

“You’re … you’re Tony Stark’s nephew?” He only nodded, “And you’re saying sorry when your uncle is on the council. When he’s the reason they’re dead. That’s rich.”

“I’m not my uncle,” He stated more firmly than you expected. It took you back for a moment and the two of you stared intensely for a long moment.

“I don’t care,” His eyebrows tightened and his lips pressed into a rectangle at your reaction, “Even if you don’t want to end up like him, you probably will. It’s a part of your nature,” You spoke, mocking the words you heard all day long in class.

“It’s not a part of my nature to kill those who disagree with me,” Your eyebrows furrowed at his words.

“How else will you assert your dominance, oh wise Alpha?”

He breathed deeply, sensing how you were toying with him, “A good alpha doesn’t need to kill or rely only on their strength. Alphas who lack the respect of their followers do.”

It deeply confused you that someone like him could think this way. You were quiet for a moment as you thought it over, “Are you saying Tony Stark lacks the respect of his people?”

“They only fear him,” Peter’s eyes seemed to darken even in the moonlight shining down on the two of you.

Pete watched as it clicked within your mind, “And you don’t want to be feared?” As he leaned in closer, you surprised yourself by not pulling away. You felt that same magnetism pulling you towards him, promising you pleasure, but frightening you at the same time.

His fingers brushed against yours and a shiver went down your spine, causing your lips to part and your eyes to widen, “Control feels much better when it’s instinct. When it’s wanted and desired. That’s real control,” His voice was warm, and surprisingly calm. It made you forget for a moment and drop the walls. Your eyes roamed over his every feature, ever line of his jaw, and ever curl of his hair.

His eyes wandered down to your lips and you suddenly snapped out of the spell. You stood up from the bench with a start, realizing how deeply you were just staring at him, “I don’t believe in those bullshit rankings,” You stated firmly and he stood up with you, trying to close the distance between the two of you, “They’re all fucking lies.”

You were about to turn away when he grabbed your upper arm. You gritted your teeth as he pulled you into him, “Believe this then. I want you, Y/N.”

“Let go of me,” Your voice was lower than you expected as you stared into those eyes. Why was your voice so weak? “You don't even know me.”

“It’s instinct,” He said, holding your firmly although his grip was tight, “And I can tell that you feel it too. Deep down, you’re searching for someone to take care of you. You want reassurance like they all do.” You tried to look away from him but you just couldn’t. “Someone hurt you badly, didn’t they?” You shook your head, tears starting to sting your eyes. “A girl like you needs someone gentle. Someone to ease you into submission rather than force it.”

You felt like you were melting into him and as his head dipped down to place his lips on yours, that voice in the back of your head was screaming to kiss him back. Your wrist pinned together between you, Peter stole your first kiss and it was a wonderfully terrifying feeling.

You felt warmth in your core and you tightened your legs together as he began to kiss along your jaw and then your neck, surely leaving marks on your skin, “Peter …”

“Tell me to stop,” He said against your skin.

The words were on your tongue but it was like your body had switched to autopilot. It wanted his touch and that’s all your body wanted to focus on. When he finally did pull his lips from your skin, your body was still craving that foreign touch.

Before his hands could roam over the rest of your body, a bright light blinded the two of you and footsteps approached. Peter let go of your skin but you still felt his touch, as Mr. Rogers appeared. You only crossed your arms, looking down at your feet as the two of you were caught.

“What are you doing out here, son?” Of course, Steve didn’t address you.

“We wanted to look at the Full Moon,” Peter lied, “My apologies, sir.”

“Where’s Maximoff?”

“We haven’t seen her,” Peter shrugged casually.

“I’d stay away from this one if I were you. There’s plenty of good girls worthy of your time,” Steve gestured to you but him disliking you was the least of your worries at the moment, “You can head back to the dance, Mr. Parker. I’ll be escorting this one back to the dorms.”

Peter stepped forward, walking past Steve, but he looked back to mouth something to you.

Clear as day, you could read his lips say, “You’re mine.”

No matter the cost, you decided then that you’d run. Run from this place and from the feeling Peter gave you that made you so weak in the knees.

part two

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monsoonblooms12 · 3 years ago

Text

Newlyweds Questions: Week 11

A/N: So I am (quite) a bit late to this week's questions and apologies for the same. Also, a big big Thank You to the queens @jamespotterthefirst and @genevievemd for this amazing round of questions. Had so much fun answering them!

For Both

Where did you go on your second date?

Pooja: (looking at Ethan) Hmmm, should we talk as per the dates we both consider dates or the dates only I consider dates?

Ethan: And what exactly is that supposed to mean?

Pooja: Look, as per the dates which we both consider dates, our first date was at Kyoto. and as per dates that only I consider dates, our First was at Derry Roasters, studying people, drinking that (mimicking Ethan's tone) atrocious Espresso Romano.

Ethan: Apart from the fact that you used the word date five times in a sentence, and that your mimic of me was nothing like the way I talk-

Pooja: The fact that I never said I was mimicking you and yet you got it is enough to prove how good my mimic was.

Ethan: (Rolling his eyes) So, as I was saying before someone (looks pointedly at Pooja) cut me off, our first official date was Kyoto and that makes the rooftop candlelit dinner that we had at home, our second.

Pooja: And unofficially, it was the Opera, during my first year. (Looks at Ethan) Wasn't it? (An intense stare between the two, follows, as Pooja tries to make him budge and change his answer)

Ethan: (breaking eye contact and murmuring) Whatever

What is their pet name for you? Do you have a favorite? Do you have a least favorite?

Pooja: It would be Poo, Aifa and Rookie. And no least favourites. Anything he calls me is my favourite, no questions asked.

Ethan: (smiles at her) She usually calls me E, Teylie or Dr Grumpkins. And even though I don't really have a favourite, I do have a least favourite one. (Turning to Pooja) May I know why I got a "Grumpkins" nickname when I gave you all the sweet ones?

Pooja: You should really ask that question to the interns that arrived at the hospital last week.

What is their silliest fear?

Ethan: Worms.

Pooja: (bearing a serious expression) Not worms. Creepy Crawlies.

Ethan: (Barely concealing a laugh) Ya, them. They just crawl and carry on with their lives. And if you spot even a little one within the radius of ten meters, you start shrieking.

Pooja: They are creepy, okay? I have nightmares about them.

(Ethan shakes his head)

Pooja: And what will you say about your fear of having to talk to people?

Ethan: I have no fear as such.

Pooja: Then why do I always have to rescue you from public events and galas?

Ethan: .... Let's not talk about this anymore, alright?

Pooja: (letting out a hushed giggle) Sure

How often do you go on dates together? Do you think it’s enough or would you like to go out more often?

Pooja: Quite often I would say, out of the weekends we get off, for two of them we go out while for the other two we stay at home and relax.

Ethan: I wish we could go out more often.

Pooja: You know I don't need you to take me on extravagent tours or fancy restaurants. I would rather cook at home with you in my hoodie, or watch Brooklyn 99 while we snuggle and share chips.

What was the first thing your spouse said after the proposal.

Ethan: It was a long silence. I really thought I had done something wrong, because she couldn't stop crying. And after ten minutes or so, came the yes.

(Overcome by nostalgia, Ethan looks at Pooja teary-eyed)

Pooja: I was so overwhelmed by everything that I got speechless. I wanted to say so much but the words just didn't come out. It was when he got up and hugged me, that I could finally stop. His first words were, "Please don't cry"

If you were forced to marry one of your exes, who would it be?

Pooja: I think we both can agree that we would rather die or remain unmarried, rather that marrying someone else. Even if we were forced to.

Ethan: Totally. And as for me, none of my past relationships had ever made me want to get married and settle down. She (indicating Pooja) is the first who made me feel that way.

Pooja: (Touched) You know I love you, right?

Ethan: I love you too, Aifa.

Bonus round:

Speaking of exes, describe each of your spouse’s exes using three words only. Go!

Ethan: Do we really have to do this?

Pooja: (chuckling) No worries, I'll go first. For Eva: Shy, Cute, Bright. For Rosalie: Cunning, Cruel, Narcissistic. For Renia: Powerful, Stylish, Efficient and For Harper: Talented, Humble, Brilliant.

Ethan: Acute observations. My turn. So, for Shresht: Dumb, Weird, Rude and for Ayaan: Intelligent, Caring and Clever.

Pooja: I really thought for a moment that you were going to say I don't know & I don't care (chuckles)

Ethan: That's... (considers for a while) a really good suggestion. You should've told me I was allowed to do that!

(Pooja rolls her eyes and both of them end up laughing)

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

PS: If you are reading this, I am really grateful for you. Have an amazing day/night and sending you loads of love🤎

Tags🤎 (Please let me know if you want to be added or removed or if I forgot you):

Perma: @gkittylove99 @neotericthemis @udishaman @aestheticartsx @twinkleallnight @schnitzelbutterfingers @sophxwithers @sweatyrysconnoisseur @nikki-2406 @choicesfanaf @trrfanaddict @starrystarrytrouble @gardeningourmet @parkbarks @mvalentine @lovablegranny @mercury84choices @izzyourresidentlawyer @phoenixrising308 @adiehardfan @quixoticdreamer16 @a-crepusculo @cordonianruby @gryffindordaughterofathena

Ethan x Pooja: @aleynareads @choicesaddict5 @stygianflood @mysticaurathings @jamespotterthefirst @ilikemenbutonlyethanramsey @takemyopenheart @mm2305 @kit-rookie-princess

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@openheartfanfics

#ethan x pooja #pooja sharma #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey #open heart mc #open heart #newlywed questions with our favourite host bree💕#ethan ramsey x mc

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dreamiesdotcom · 4 years ago

Text

celestial | h.rj

Summary: To attribute full sight and still have the ability to describe things to someone who's never seen them means that you've felt the world deeper than anybody else.

Word count: 2164

a/n: idk whats up with me and midnights

Renjun's first question goes like this: "What does the pool look like?"

Naturally, Jeno panics; how do you explain a pool to someone who's never seen it? He's been so used to seeing it on a daily that he didn't even pay mind to the details. He debates on describing a rectangle, and then describing the waters, and then whatever the hell his 12-year-old mind could come up with. Naturally, he fails.

For him, you saved everything that day. You grabbed Renjun's hand, intertwining your fingers before grazing the water. "Do you feel that?"

"What exactly am I supposed to feel?"

"The water. Do you feel that constant flow and the relaxing cold?" you laughed then, patient even for the moody boy. He huffs out his cheeks and nods, you let go of his hands. "That's blue, Renjun. The water reflects the sky, and a pool is like a little ocean. An ocean is like a world filled with blue."

He tries to think of it, vast and endless fields of freedom. He couldn't, though; all he's known about the sky is that it was blue, and that blue is associated with sadness. He takes advantage of the fact that someone's willing to answer his question, and he asks again, "Is it scary?"

"Mhm, for some, it is. I'll let you in a secret, come here." You nod, and then he tilts his head to the side. He hears a splash, and doesn't expect it once he hears your voice after — "I'm actually scared of swimming pools."

"Didn't you just go in?"

"No, that was Jeno. I'm here." You poked a finger on his left arm, and he could tell you're wearing that cheeky grin. His stance softens. "I'm just beside you."

###

It was morning, the sun was shining and the scorching summer heat was kinder than everyone expected it to be. Somewhere around the room, Chenle and Jisung successfully trapped a sleeping Jaemin in a domino prison, Jeno's trying to convince them why this is such a bad idea and Mark is getting scolded by Hyuck. The TV fades to background noise, the plan of cooking extra pancakes long forgotten. Renjun leans his head on your shoulders, "What does the night look like?"

It felt like an odd question to ask as the sun is halfway to its peak, but Renjun's curiosity piques in no time. You hum for a bit to think, "The night is very different to a lot of people."

Very different for a lot of people... yeah, many things in the world are like that. He figured it out years ago when you told him about the swimming pools, and the airplanes, and the rollercoasters. He figured it out when you talked to him about books, when you taught him about colors, about shapes.

He still doesn't know what different looks like, and what importance it holds.

"Hyuck loves the night. You hear his laughter, right? He likes going on adventures and feeling the wind. I think, to him, the night looks like a harsh passing of the breeze you felt when we went out on a drive." He takes in your words. These days, he gets better with understanding metaphors — he learned that blue is not just a shade of sadness, and that sky doesn't always mean blue — he understands your words better. "But me... I just sleep. I don't like the night very much."

"Huh?"

"Have you ever been in a silent place, Jun?" you asked softly. "Not the silence you can fill with music. I'm talking about blank, emotionless silence; the one that echoes. The one that haunts you. The one that makes you feel alone. That's what the night looks like for me."

Renjun wanted to nod, and he wanted to say yes because he's been in that silent place for the longest time. It's all he's ever known, and it's all that he's ever seen; it's the only thing he sees — black, echoing, loud nothingness.

He didn't, though.

Instead, he asks a question, "What do you think about the night?"

"I think it's a question." comes quickly in a reply. "I still don't know how a nightmare town gives life to dreamers, but it does. It's a question I do not want to know the answer to."

Renjun knows of the stars and the sky, and you'd tried to explain their light by telling him what blinding comfort was — think of all your loneliest moments being washed away by the fire I told you about, and that's pretty much it, 'jun — and he knows of the big, gazing moon that changes shape now and then. It's what makes up most of the night, Jeno had said, so he knows that too.

What he doesn't know is why it seems so vicious to you, and what he doesn't know is that if he could see, would he have chosen to close his eyes to not witness such complex sadness.

###

It's at times like this when solace blooms in his heart. The rest of the world seems to be fast asleep, but he's so awake, so aware, so alive. You sit beside him, yet again brought him to the place you and Jaemin frequents in, and he ignores the jealous feeling in his chest. It's at times like this that Renjun realizes he's falling.

"Your smile must look beautiful," he wonders out loud. "Can you please tell me how your smile looks like?"

"Me?" You replied nonchalantly. Your chuckle passes as cold as the night breeze, and he wonders how the poet would write themselves as poetry. The blankness of your words dulls the hope in his eyes, "I... don't like it. My eyes... they always look tired. I always look tired. I hate myself."

For a moment, he dwells on his thoughts — Jaemin's brought you here, and you're more frequent here together, and he's seen how you looked against the glimmering stars. Did he fall in love? Did he want to keep you all to himself, like a little secret? Did he want to kiss you until all spite of yourself vanishes from your soul? Jaemin must've, Renjun knows. He knows because even blind, he's aware of how beautiful you truly are; not only he's heard it from his friends, but he feels it strongly. He couldn't see the city lights that he's heard of so many times, but he knows you shine brighter than them.

Hell, he couldn't even see you — he couldn't even see anything, but he knows you do. He knows you are. You think he's wrong, that he's more gorgeous, but he reaches for your hands.

He doesn't know what beautiful looks like. He just knows that it's breath-taking, soul-stealing, ethereal, and you.

"I think you smile like euphoria. I think you smile like the sound of music boxes, those with lovely tunes," he says, eyes closed and breathing fast. "I think... "

'I love you.' oh, how he wished it's easy to say those words. He purses his lips. "...you're one of the most beautiful people I've ever met, right next to my mother."

Beside him, you chuckled and held his hands. "You're sleepy."

"I am. Right now, I'm sleepy and I know you're beautiful." He squeezes your hands, looking at the direction he knows you're at. He lets out a shaky smile, "Tomorrow, I will be wide awake and I'd still think you're stunning."

It's at times like this that Renjun realizes he's falling. It's at times like this that he fears how much he can't wait to crash.

###

Renjun's biggest fear among many is that he'll never feel like this again.

He fell too hard. He fell too quickly and too harshly and he's only noticing it now when the impact makes itself known and he couldn't stand up. He knew that he was scared, he knew that he was afraid then, but only now did he know what it truly meant to be terrified; when he's sitting beside you on the roof, feeling the wind pass by, and he couldn't help but wonder what if it's not us, but I can never love the person meant for me because they're not you?

It's a silly thing, maybe. He did not believe in many things and fate is not one of the few he believed in. He thinks that love is something you choose for yourself — it's something you decide on your own. He thinks that the only problem in 'not being made for each other' is that you relied too much on what the stars wrote, and didn't write your story on your own. What even are these stars, aside from unknown giant speckles of light? Why should they decide someone's life?

He adores them, he knows, and now he can't help his curiosity: "How do the stars look like tonight?"

"They're bright. Very bright."

He swoons at the content sigh you let out before speaking, and he lets himself indulge. It's at moments like this when he lets himself feel, where he relishes in the adoration he nestles.

"They ought to be," he whispers to himself. "They gotta be bright if they're trying to outshine you."

Giggles fades to laughter, and genuine words burn forced. He could almost taste the bitterness of your words, "You haven't seen me."

Does he need to?

"I don't need to," he concludes. "There's so much more to you than what I couldn't see."

Because it's true. All those years you held this something in you, a piece of an old soul and an unknown heavenly something you ignored just so you could spite yourself. You had this way with words, this certain understanding of the world that he's never found in someone else. Renjun thinks that to attribute full sight and still have the ability to describe things to someone who's never seen them means that you've felt the world deeper than anybody else, and to know that the world is cruel but still choose to keep your eyes open is something that should be admired.

Right now, you're the closest to him you've ever been, and he bathes in the feeling of your lips hovering above his.

"I'm a mess, Huang Renjun."

"You're an art in progress," he whispers back, eyes fluttering shut as you close what little distance you have left. "But even half-made, you're a masterpiece."

###

If somebody asked Renjun if he ever saw this coming, he'd say "Why the fuck would you even ask me that question?"

Alright, jokes aside, never in his mind did he think life would turn out this way. First of all, a lot of unexpected things have already happened, but he's stubborn so of course, that doesn't convince him. He should've felt it coming, but of course, he refused to. After all, why would he even think of his best friend laying beside him on his bed, talking about random things all night in every way domestic? Why would he even think of you two being together, whispering sweet nothings to each other? He's guilty of doing those, yes, but that doesn't mean that he knows the answer. In a spur of the moment decision, he asks another question — "Why'd you choose me?"

"You're the only one who wanted me—IT'S A JOKE! Hey, hey, I was only kidding," you laugh, finding so many things entertaining about the fact that he's unamused. He preens at the soft kiss you placed on the edge of his lips, and then even more when you whisper, "You're the only one I wanted."

Normally, this is where his heart would do those weird flips and antics. This is the time where he'd feel like he's in another world, like he's invincible and oh so lucky to be thoroughly adored by the person he loves so much.

It's only that sometimes, Renjun feels unreasonable. He's sensitive and insecure and it's so much easier to find flaws in himself than to appreciate the things that made him who he is. Sometimes, he needs to ask some things he's not exactly sure of, things much like: "Even with... even with my eyes... like this?"

And it's you, and it's never dull when it's with you, everything is always beautiful and poetic. He doesn't know where that voice was coming from, but he hears it in his mind, and it tells him to trust you.

A butterfly kiss on each of his eyelids. A hand warm on the top of his hands. The rain pours heavily outside but it's muffled enough that it's calming, and all that he can think of is warm, so warm, so loved. You hold your foreheads close and keep them close for seconds, before you press a soft kiss on his lips, "Your eyes are beautiful, my love."

And for once, Renjun's not afraid to ask — "How do they look like?"

Beautiful and so much more.

"As if something straight out of a magical dream, because you are. You are magical," you whisper, breathing in slow intervals. "You are the closest to celestial a human could be."

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