#i know i’ve had certain circumstances in life which meant i couldn’t save much/at all throughout my early 20s

[peter-weir]

does anyone else feel weird/slightly ashamed about having like no savings lol. like idk if its just the Mental Illness but i’m imagining the mechanic asking me why i haven’t had my car serviced since march 2023 and i say ‘because i have no money’ and then i imagine him replying ‘but you have a full time job on the average australian annual income’ and i have to be like ‘but i have no money!’ and then i want to shrivel into a ball. even though this is an imaginary scenario. can anyone hear me

[atlabeth]

everything happens for a reason part one - zuko x fem!reader

I am not your concern 

masterlist | part 2 

summary: as a servant in the fire nation, you’ve learned that life is often unfair. but as you venture through a tumultuous relationship with a certain prince, you come to learn a very tricky lesson: everything happens for a reason.

a/n: im so excited about this guys you dont even know. i have so much planned and i hope you all love it as much as i do - just for reference, in this first chapter y/n is 9 and zuko is 10

wc: 2.3k

warning(s): mentions of a raid, reader and zuko both being little shits lmao

chapter title comes from not your concern by the hush sound! 

Y/N sprawled out on the grass and sighed contentedly as the sun shined down on her and her mother. Today was easier than most as they had been given the day off, an occasion that was rare in the royal palace. She closed her eyes and breathed in the fresh scent aerating their surroundings. Her senses were blessed with a mix of sea salt and fire lilies, an ever present reminder of the two worlds she walked in.

“Y/N,” her mother chided as she glanced down at her daughter from her sewing. “You shouldn’t lay in the grass like that. You know how hard those stains are to get out; I don’t need even more work on my plate.”

“Yes, mother,” she sighed as she sat up with mock exasperation. “I just feel like I should take advantage of this! We spend all day inside, and now that we’re out here you’re worried about things like stained clothes.” Y/N pushed herself to her feet and spread her arms out as she spun in a small circle. “Life is short, and I already spend all of it sewing and healing. Don’t you think I deserve some grass stains?”

“Did you find your way into the poetry books again?” she joked. “Of course I think you should have fun, but you know how things are here. I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

She continued to twirl, the soft breeze a welcome sensation on her skin. “I know, I know, but you don’t need to worry! I can—”

“Dear, watch where you’re going!”

Her mother’s warning didn’t reach her in time, a fact that became known to Y/N as she collided into the boy in front of her. A small gasp escaped her as recognition filled her now wide eyes.

“Prince Zuko!” she exclaimed, nervous hands finding their positions as she bowed. “Please forgive me for the accident, I didn’t realize you were there.”

Y/N had never spoken to the young prince directly — she mainly shadowed her mother while she did her work around the palace or honed her healing abilities under the watchful eye of Rika, their most skilled healer — but she knew enough to understand that she was to never disrespect the royal family in any way.

“Don’t worry,” he said with a small smile, alleviating the tension that had built up in her shoulders. “I’m sorry too, I wasn’t paying attention either. I actually came here for some help.” As she straightened her back, she noticed the bundle of fabric he was holding. “Are you Kura?”

“Oh, no. That’s my mother.” She pointed behind her where her mother greeted the prince with a respectful nod and smile of her own. “Did you come to get something fixed? She’s the best seamstress in all of the Four Nations.”

“My daughter flatters me,” Kura chucked. “What is it that you require, Prince Zuko?”

“She’s right, actually.” He held up the bundle of cloth which Y/N now recognized as one of the many outfits he owned. She didn’t consider herself a jealous person, but the prince’s extensive wardrobe was an exception to that rule. She had one set uniform for her work supplied by the Fire Nation, and a threadbare set for everything else that her mother had bought for her after saving up what little copper they had to spare. Y/N didn’t mind it too much as she was able to practice her sewing whenever the seams broke, but she was sure that her handiwork made up more of the outfit than the original by now.

“I tore one of the sleeves while I was training with Azula,” Zuko expressed with a frown. “I showed it to my mother, and she said that Kura would be able to fix it. I had to go through every single servant to find you, so I really hope you can. ���

Kura set her current project down and took the cloth from the prince, examining it with the skillful eye of a seamstress before meeting his eyes with another smile. “Of course, dear. I should have it ready for you by tomorrow; my daughter will deliver it to your quarters around midday.”

“Do it well,” he demanded. “I can’t focus on my training if my clothes are falling apart.”

“Hey!” she spoke up, scowling as she crossed her arms. It was like every shred of sense Y/N had disappeared the moment he talked down to her mother. “This is our day off, so you should be thankful that my mother is taking time out of her day to do this for you. Be nicer to her.”

“Y/N!” her mother scolded, her tone frantically apologetic as she turned back to the prince. “Please, forgive my daughter. She speaks her mind far too often, she doesn’t mean any disrespect.”

“No, you’re right.” A thoughtful expression found its way onto the young boy’s features, his eyes trained on her own displeasure. “My father always talks that way to the servants and I guess it came off on me. I’m sorry. It’s not nice.”

“Apology accepted,” Y/N said reluctantly.

“Thank you for your help. I’ll make sure to tell all my friends about your work.” The young prince smiled and walked off, though not without a curious second glance at the girl who righted his wrong.

As soon as the prince was out of range, Kura began to berate her daughter. “Y/N, by now you have to understand that under no circumstances may you ever speak to a member of the royal family like that! Do you know what kind of punishment you could’ve gotten if anyone else was around to hear that?”

She sighed and settled back on the ground, plucking a blade of grass from the ground. “I know, mother, but he needs to learn manners, prince or not!”

“That’s not how it works here. Our job is to serve the royal family without question. Sometimes they say mean things, but we can’t do anything about it. Apologies are not yours to demand or accept.”

“That’s not fair,” she mumbled as she wrapped the strand of grass around her finger. “Back home I could say whatever I wanted.”

“I know, honey, I know. But we’re not at home anymore, so the rules there don’t apply. We have to follow the rules that are put in place here. Can you promise that you’ll do that for me?”

“Yes, mother.” It was a phrase that seemed to always be at the tip of her tongue now that constant apologies were littered throughout her days, usually accompanied by a sigh.

“I miss home,” The murmured sentiment was almost too soft for Kura to hear and her heart sank. Her daughter’s gaze was trained on the ground, idle fingers tapping against her legs, and she put a momentary pause to her sewing with a sigh.

“Dear, don’t you have a healing session today with Rika?”

“You know I don’t,” she grumbled. “It’s my day off, which no one seems to remember.”

“Y/N.” Kura’s voice was more firm and she now understood that it wasn’t so much a suggestion as a demand. “I think you should pay Rika a visit.”

She heaved an exasperated sigh and stood up in a far more exaggerated gesture than necessary. “Alright. I’ll see you later tonight, mother.” And as Y/N began her walk back to the palace, a sour feeling brewed in her chest.

Kura watched on, unable to prevent the fear that permeated her thoughts. They were fortunate that the young prince was generous, but along with his mother they might’ve been the only two who shared those views in the royal family. She hated having to constantly admonish her daughter — the girl was too young to constantly live in fear, especially having already been through so much — but in the Fire Nation they couldn’t afford to do anything less. A spitfire girl like her daughter was constantly treading on thin ice, and it was all she could do to keep her safe.

Kura feared the day when she wasn’t there to protect her.

-

After a short walk that consisted of muttering things to herself and taking her anger out on the pebbles unfortunate enough to be in her path, Y/N found herself back at the palace. She let herself into a side entrance meant only for servants and set on her way to the infirmary when she collided with someone else — an apology was already on the tip of her tongue when she recognized it was Prince Zuko once more. She truly had rotten luck.

Y/N shot quick glances around to ensure that they were alone, then lowered her voice just for extra security. “My mom says I’m not supposed to talk to you like this, but I don’t care. Just because you’re the prince doesn’t mean you can just go around bumping into people!” she whispered angrily.

“But— you were the one who bumped into me the first time!”

She could feel her face heat up from embarrassment and she crossed her arms. “Just— whatever! Do you want something or do you just like popping up in places you're not supposed to be?”

“I guess I just wanted to talk to you,” Zuko shrugged. “I’ve never really seen you around before, and you’re interesting.”

Y/N scrutinized him trying to find out if he was tricking her somehow, but after staring at him for a solid ten seconds she finally caved. “Fine,” she said, already beginning to walk. “But you’d better make it fast. I have to get to a healing session.”

He took a few quick steps to catch up to her and frowned. “I’m the prince. Technically I could order you to stop and you would have to listen.”

“Yeah, well when it’s just the two of us, you’re just another boy. I don’t have time to talk to boys for hours.”

His brows creased for a moment as he thought about it, then ultimately shrugged once more. “Okay. You said you were going to a healing session- does that mean you’re a waterbender?”

She nodded, and Zuko waited for her to explain further. He heaved a sigh, realizing that he was going to have to carry this conversation. “Well.. what’s a waterbender doing in the Fire Nation?”

She fixed him with a puzzled look. “I’m a servant. That’s why I’m here.”

“I know that,” he frowned. “But most of the servants here are from the Fire Nation, and there are hardly any around your age. I’m just trying to get to know you better.”

Y/N sighed heavily — she now knew that the child prince of the Fire Nation had zero sense of boundaries, and if she wanted to get him off her back she had to answer to his satisfaction. “My mother is a waterbender from the Northern Tribe. She left home when she was young to travel the world and help who she could with her healing, and eventually she fell in love with an earthbender. That was my father — they ended up marrying and settling down in his village where they had me a few years later. Last month, my village was raided by the Fire Nation, and my mother and I were captured after they discovered we were waterbenders. And now I’m here, being annoyed by a prince.”

Zuko frowned once more — it seemed if he continued hanging out with this girl the expression would be stuck permanently on his face — and he suddenly felt ashamed for pushing. “I’m really sorry,” he muttered. “I had no idea.”

She heaved another sigh and shook her head. “Yeah, well they probably keep a lot of the bad things they do from you. It’s easier to send raids to destroy families when your children don’t know.”

“What happened to your father?” he questioned.

Y/N’s body stiffened, and she had never been more thankful to see the infirmary door. “Save your questions for next time,” she grumbled.

Zuko’s eyes lit up, her earlier stumble going unnoticed, and a small smile found its way across his lips. “There’s gonna be a next time?”

She managed to cover up her own growing smile with an ambivalent shrug. “As long as you don’t bump into me again.” Y/N opened the door and gave him a polite parting nod before disappearing inside.

“Good afternoon, Master Rika,” she said with a small bow. “I know this is unexpected, but my mother insisted that I come here to—”

“Let me guess,” the older woman interrupted with a raised brow. “Kura got tired of you and sent you here to annoy me instead?”

Y/N chuckled and rolled her eyes good-naturedly as she pushed the sleeves of her tunic up to her elbows. “When have I ever annoyed you?”

“That’s a question you don’t want me to answer,” she joked as she rummaged through the closet to get supplies. “Besides, what was that smile for? Meet a boy on your day off? A girl?”

Her eyes widened momentarily and she felt the heat rush to her cheeks intensely. “I don’t ask you about your life while we heal, you shouldn’t ask about mine!”

Zuko, who had been eavesdropping by the door in an extremely un-covert fashion, felt an even bigger smile. The girl was prickly as a cactus, but he found himself strangely drawn to her — not in spite of it, but because of it. He was so used to anyone he talked to outside of his immediate family and friends bending at the knee to fulfill his every will, and it was exhausting at times. But this girl — Y/N, as he had learned — was the complete opposite.

He started to walk away, sure that he was late for some kind of session of his own. Zuko found himself thinking of the glimpse of a smile he got, already finding himself scheming up ways to make it return.

And despite her request, he was almost certain he would try to bump into her again.

[silkling]

Could you please write a crossover of Rescue Bots and TFP? Rather than dying on the Nemesis, a critically injured Dreadwing fleas and crash lands on Griffin Rock. The Rescue Bots find him and nurse him back to health, not realizing he’s a Decepticon because his markings got scratched up in the fight. Dreadwing wakes up while the Rescue Bots are trying to contact Team Prime, but can’t since, unbeknownst to them, they’re all on Cybertron, fighting the Cons for the Omega Keys and Omega Lock.

So, this one turned out to be much, much longer than I thought. So long, in fact, that I had to divide it into three posts. The second post will be linked at the bottom of this one, and the third will be linked at the bottom of the second. Dear god, apparently I had a lot of more thoughts about Rescue Bots than even I was aware of. Oh well. Either way, I hope everyone enjoys! (FYI: most prompt fills will not be this long. This one was just so long cause I have many emotions and ideas about this scenario.)

———————————————————————————————————

Dreadwing felt the betrayal of Lord Megatron as surely as if it were just as physical a wound as the hole blown through his chest. He had heard the weapon powering up, and his war-forged battle instincts had had him diving to the side just as the fusion canon had fired. It has still torn though his chest, but rather than destroy his spark chamber the blast had torn a hole straight through the right side of his chest near his shoulder. He lived yet, but if he could not escape the Nemesis that would not be the case for much longer.

He had served Lord Megatron with loyalty and honor for millennia, ever since he and his brother had joined the Decepticons after Vos had fallen. Dreadwing had sold his very spark to the Unmaker to act on the wishes and orders of his leader, and this is what his loyalty had earned him? Megatron attempting to offline him, and protecting the mech who had desecrated his brother? The same mech who had, countless times before, betrayed Megatron himself? Dreadwing could scarcely understand it. Why would Megatron spare Starscream, who had given the warlord no true loyalty, when Dreadwing himself had been nothing but loyal? Is this what his loyalty bought him, among the Decepticons? Dishonorably killed solely for attempting to avenge his brother by killing a traitorous coward?

If so, he wanted nothing to do with it.

He dragged himself down the halls, finally making it to the flight deck, and looked down to see the ship flying above the ocean. Rather than attempt a proper take off, he simply pitched his body forward off the edge and allowed himself to fall. As he neared the water, he forced a transformation, ignoring the agony of the action, and his engine roared to life. Lucid thought slipped away, then, as baser survival coding took over and guided him away from the warship, away from danger, away from what would have been his death.

Only one thing was certain, now.

In attacking Dreadwing to protect Starscream, Megatron had lost the loyalty of his most devoted frontline warrior.

Dreadwing simply refused to follow a mech who would protect the one who desecrated his brother.

And so, survival protocols overriding every other thought or higher system, the large Seeker allowed his higher processor functions to shut off. His mind quieted to blissful silence. Instinct alone drove him forward, flying towards a destination even he did not know. He could only hope it would be somewhere safe.

——————————

Blades didn’t know what he was expecting when he went on a walk along the beach, but it most certainly wasn’t a large Cybertronian lying in in the sand, looking like he’d crashed landed and resting lifeless on patch of sand soaked with energon. Technically, the copter wasn’t even supposed to be out here, as Sigma-17 had to maintain their cover, but everything at the firehouse had just been several kinds of too much that morning, so he had, for once, flown off on his own and landed on a beach he knew no humans ever really came to, intent to just take a walk and clear his head.

Except, upon coming around a bend, he’d found the aforementioned Cybertronian. For a moment, he’d simply frozen, but then the instinct ingrained by his training kicked in and he sprung into action. See, Blades was a trained and licensed triage medic. He couldn’t perform complex surgeries or anything on the level of a proper medic, but in the Rescue Academy on Cybertron he’d taken the courses for field level medical aid so that, if he’d ever run into someone during a rescue who’d been hurt, he could treat them and keep them alive until they could get to a medical facility. The training g had been fun, especially when he’d studied with-

He shook his head roughly before that thought could complete itself. He didn’t want to think about the time….Before. It hurt, remembering what and who he’d lost during his millennia of stasis. Before he could fall back into grief, training snapped back into place and his processor quieted. He knelt next to the fallen Cybertronian, noting that they were a Seeker frame, and carefully turned the bot over. His next thought was an observation that the bot was a mech, and that the energon soaking into the sand under his frame was spilling from a large hole torn straight through his chest. That meant the first thing he needed to do was seal the leaking lines to keep him from losing more energon. After that, he could call Heatwave. He didn’t have the skills to patch this wound up fully. Once he’d made sure this mech wouldn’t die here and now, he would need to get him to proper care. One of the stasis pods would certainly help, though if they wanted the wound healed fully he’d need to be in the pod for a while. The other alternative was contacting Optimus. Blades knew the Prime had a proper medic on his team, which might be the better option.

As his processor raced, trying to think of a plan, his hands worked on autopilot. He slipped the tools he needed from his subspace, cleaning and removing grime where it was needed to prevent infection, removing bits of sand and stone from the wound, and using a small welder to seal off the free-flowing energon lines. He covered loose, sparking wires and circuits, , rerouting a few of them in places where it was needed. Finally, after many long minutes, he finished and sat back on his heels.

It was then the helicopter realized his comm. was pinging with an alert for an incoming message, and had been for quite some time. In fact, it seemed he’d missed several messages. From Heatwave, Chase, Boulder, Dani, the Chief, Cody…Pit, even Graham had sent him a message. Embarrassment and guilt settled heavy in his chest, and he lifted his hand to his audial to accept the current call. As soon as his comm. clicked to life, Dani’s voice was coming through it.

“Blades! Finally! Where are you? We’ve all been worried sick, you know.” his partner scolded. Blades couldn’t help the small smile that twisted his lips upwards. It was nice knowing she cared. He loved Dani dearly. She was family, after all. “You know you’re not supposed to even be out of the firehouse on your own, you idiot bot!” she continued, her voice holding an undercurrent of worry despite the insult. Blades didn’t take it personally. “What if someone had seen you? You need to-“

And now that was enough. “Dani.” he interrupted her, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “I’m sorry for ignoring you and everyone else, but right now there’s a bigger emergency than me risking our cover. I found an inured bot on that small beach behind the mountain. You know, the one no one likes to go to because the hike is too long? He’s in a really bad way. I have triage training, and I’ve patched him up, but he needs either a stasis pod or a proper medic, as close to immediately as possible.”

There was silence on the other end, before-

“Alright. I’ll tell everyone to come to your location. I’m with Dad and Chase right now. We all split up to look for you, but we’ll meet you there. Don’t move, and keep the bot alive.” Dani instructed. Despite himself, Blades was smiling again. Yes, he really did love Dani. She knew when it was time to get serious. He had a feeling he’d be forgiven for his blunder today, given the circumstances.

“Will do. I’ll see you soon.”

“Just hang tight, partner. And stay out of trouble.”

“You too.” he chirped, hands still working over the bot to patch up his more minor wounds now that the life-threatening one was dealt with. “And Dani?”

“Yeah, Blades?”

“I’m sorry for worrying you.”

There was a beat of silence, and then her voice came though, softer and fonder.

“Don’t worry about it. You did the right thing.”

Then the comm. line cut off, and Blades was left alone to in the silence. He let his processor drift, kneeling in the energon soaked sand as he worked on saving the life of a bot whose name he didn’t even know.

——————————

Chase was worried. He knew Blades was more capable than the others thought he was, but that didn’t stop him from worrying. He hadn’t been surprised when the copter bot had left the firehouse that morning. He’d seen the way he had held his rotors tight to his spinal strut, seen the way he’d fidgeted around the others, seen the way his optics had slipped and gone dull and distant. He knew today was not a good day for Blades, so his disappearance had not been a surprise. He’d been mildly concerned, simply because he did not know if Blades would be able to avoid being seen in his more distracted state, but he hadn’t been too worried. Still, when Heatwave had insisted on going to track down their rogue teammate, he hadn’t protested. He’d even offered to let Dani ride with him and the Chief to make things simpler.

But then Blades had finally picked up Dani’s comm. and that was when he started to worry. A strange bot, found injured on Griffin Rock? It raised many questions. Where had they come from? Who where they? How had they been injured? Chase wasn’t worried that the bot would die. He knew Blades had triage training, so he was confident his teammate would be able to keep his unexpected patient alive. Even so, this new development raised many questions that Chase did not have the answers to, and that was what worried him. There were not many Cybertronians on Earth, he knew. Aside from Sigma-17, there was Team Prime, and….the Decepticons. As far as Chase was aware, and he admittedly did not know as much as he would like, there were no unaligned bots on the planet.

Which meant this newcomer was either one of Prime’s team, a Decepticon, or he had crash landed on the island from space and wasn’t attached to either faction. It would be easy enough to confirm; they simply had to contact Prime and ask if he was missing a teammate, and if not ask if he recognized the bot in question. If this stranger was a neutral party or an Autobot, Chase knew there would be nothing to worry about. But if they were a Decepticon…well, that was the root of the police bot’s concerns. Sigma-17 was a rescue team. They knew rudimentary combat skills, enough to defend themselves or those they were rescuing in an emergency, but they were non-combatants. By the standards of the War, his team would be classified as civilians. If this new Cybertronian was a Decepticon…Chase wasn’t sure they’d be able to protect Griffin Rock, this time. He wasn’t sure they’d even be able to protect themselves.

Before he could slip even further into his own processor, they arrived at the coordinates Blades had sent. His snapped into focus, his doors popping open to allow his passengers out, and then he was transforming and walking over to where he could see Blades. As he approached his friend, he heard Boulder and Heatwave pull up behind him and transform. Blades looked up from his work when his three teammates stopped next to him, and Chase was mildly disconcerted to see the amount of energon soaking the sand and coating the copter’s hands.

“Blades, what happened?” Heatwave demanded, voice rough.

“I don’t know.” he shrugged helplessly. “I came out here for some space and to take a walk, cause I know this beach is practically abandoned, and I just found him like this.”

Indeed, this close, Chase could see that the mystery bot was in fact a mech. That answered one question, but none of the others. How irritating. It was also making him very nervous and queasy to see just how badly injured the very, very large bot was. Boulder too, seemed to feel ill at the sight of such horrible wounds and so much energon. Distantly, Chase noted that the bot might be even bigger than High Tide. He had no idea how they were supposed to get him back to the firehouse.

Heatave made a frustrated noise, clearly displeased with the lack of information though he knew Blades was not to blame. “Well can you tell how he got so injured?”

“A weapon of some sort, though not one I’ve ever seen the damage of before.” Blades said, frowning. His processor was clearly working hard, trying to turn over the facts he knew to figure out the bigger picture. “There’s also signs of older damage. I can’t be 100% sure, but I think this bot is, or maybe was, involved in the War.”

Heatwave paused, seeming more wary with this new information. “…can you tell which side?”

“No. Any faction identifier or badge has been destroyed or scraped off like most of his paint. I can only just figure out what his colors are supposed to be, and even them only barely.”

Chase could tell that Heatwave was annoyed, but the fire truck only grumbled his curses under his breath before sighing. “Alright. What do we need to do?”

Blades startled, looking surprised. “You’re asking me?”

“Of course.” Chase cut in before Heatwave could snap something rude and further stress the already clearly frazzled helicopter. “You are the triage medic here. Protocol dictates that, in the absence of a full medic, any medical decisions would fall to the next available medical expert. In this case, that would be you.”

Blades blinked a few times, before shaking himself and sitting up straighter. “Like I said earlier, he needs a stasis pod. Badly. I don’t have the ability to fix him completely, my training only covered keeping patients alive until they could get to someone who could repair them fully. The only one on planet I know who might be able to help is Optimus’s medic. He can also heal completely in one of our stasis pods, but it would take longer than just asking Optimus for help.”

Heatwave grunted. “Got it. He needs a stasis pod now, and a medic later. We can do that.”

That seemed to be enough to startle Boulder into awareness, and the bulldozer jumped before nodding and turning to Heatwave. “Graham and I can figure out a way to transport him safely. Though we’ll need your help, Blades. You have a better understanding of his condition than us.”

The copter nodded, and Chase let that be his que to retreat to back to where the humans were waiting. Apparently, they didn’t want to get too close in case their presence caused an issue with the unknown bot’s care.

“Well?” Chief asked. “How’s our newest guest?

“Unwell.” Chase said succinctly. “He is severely injured and appears to be involved in the War in some fashion, though it is impossible to tell for which side. We are going to transport him to the firehouse in order to put him into a stasis pod so that he may heal. Graham, I believe Boulder requires your assistance in that respect.” he said, directing the last part to the engineer.

Graham nodded, making no protest as he jogged forward towards his partner, Boulder already turning and crouching to begin discussing plans. Dani followed him quickly, though she split from his path to join Blades, clambering up onto his leg and patting his canopy as she shot him a reassuring smile.

It was here that Kade made his own opinion known. “Hey hey hey, let’s slow down!” he protested. “You just said you don’t know what side this guy’s on, and you want to bring him back home? We can’t do that! Why can’t Blades just fix him here and we can send him on his way?”

Chase tilted his head. “Blades is a licensed triage medic. He does not have the training necessary to fully repair him. Besides, even if he did, I do not believe it would be wise to simply ‘send him on his way’, and you said. If he truly is a Decepticon, then doing so would risk leading the entirety of the Decepticon army right here to Griffin Rock.”

Kade froze, seeming suddenly queasy. “Oh.”

Chief sighed. “Fair point, partner. I agree we can’t just leave him or let him die. It wouldn’t be right, even if he isn’t on our side. But for safety’s sake, would it be possible to keep him unconscious until we can confirm his identity with Optimus?”

Chase nodded. “Indeed, Chief. I believe that is the current plan. As soon as he is safely in a stasis pod, we will attempt to contact Optimus. With luck, we can have this matter sorted by the end of today.”

“Good.” Chief smiled. “Then let’s get to work.”

“Agreed.”

Chase returned to his team, Chief and Kade following at his heel, to find they had come up with a plan to transport the unknown Cybertronian. Working together, the rescue team was able to get the large flight-frame settled into a make-shift trailer the engineer duo had thrown together, and after hitching it to Boulder’s vehicle mode the whole group made their way to the firehouse using the tunnels in order to avoid being seen. Barring Blades, of course, who instead flew straight to base with Dani in order to prepare a stasis pod.

By the time Chase and the others arrived, the pod was set up and open to admit the unknown mech. It took all four of Sigma-17 working together to lift him into it, but then the glass door was sliding shut and frost soon hid the bot from view as the stasis function of the pod took affect. Now, all that was left was for Blades to clean himself up, and for Heatwave to contact Optimus about their guest.

Chase just hoped this development didn’t come back to bite them.

——————————

Dreadwing woke to the hiss of an unfamiliar system disengaging and onlined his optics to see icy mist billowing to the floor as a glass door slid up from in front of him. A stasis pod? That was odd. The Nemesis had no stasis pods and he knew the Autobots did not have the means to maintain or build one either. He was also not aware there were any other Cybertronians on the planet. So where was he, and how had he gotten into a stasis pod? The last thing he remembered was fleeing the Nemesis, although….he did have very vague, hazy memories of a crash. Had he been discovered and saved before he could offline? If so, he would have to thank his unexpected savior. Unless, of course, it was an Autobot and he had only been saved so he could be locked away. If that was the case, a bot was going to die here today and it would not be him.

The stasis pod fully disengaged from him, and he was able to step out and onto the floor. He glanced down at himself, humming idly. It seemed that he had been fully repaired either before or while in the pod. That was good for him. He looked around, frowning at his odd surroundings. The location he was in had medical supplies, but was clearly no full medical bay. Perhaps it was only set up for emergencies, then? His wings twitched when he picked up the sound of pede steps beyond the doorway, and his gaze turned towards the sound. After a moment, he realized whoever it was wasn’t coming towards him, but rather they seemed to be…pacing? Yes, that is what it sounded like. Curiosity piqued, Dreadwing strode towards the door, making sure his own steps were quiet so as not to alert the other to his presence. He stepped though, looking around…and his optics blew wide.

It was a youngling. A small, orange and white helicopter bot was pacing back and forth in tight circles in the center of the room. Dreadwing was willing to bet that this little flyer was even younger than the Autobot scout. As the mechling turned to pace in another circle, the Seeker caught sight of the emblem on his chest. At first, he saw only a badge similar to the Autobot brand and his frame began to stiffen. Then the rest of the badge processed in his mind and his vents froze.

The Rescue Bot insignia.

This tiny little flying mechling was a Rescue Bot. But how? Megatron had seen to the destruction of the Rescue Bot headquarters in the early days of the war, and had sent his soldiers to systematically hunt down and offline any who had survived the initial attack or had not been present during it. Dreadwing and his brother had joined the Decepticons after massacre, but it was one the only acts the Decepticons had committed that they had wholly disapproved off. The Rescue Bots had been unaffiliated with any faction. They took an oath of neutrality, a vow to save any and every life they could regardless who who or what that life was. Megatron had wanted them gone because he’d wanted to make a statement, but also because he wanted to deny the Autobots any potential allies or any aid that the Rescue Bots would have given them.

It had been a great loss, and had been one of the reasons Dreadwing had initially wished to avoid choosing one side or the other. The Decepticons, in his mind, took things too far. The Autobots, while more restrained, had initially risen from the regime in which he and his brother had suffered under. But then….Vos had fallen, and word had spread that his city’s destruction had been the doing of the Autobots. He and Skyquake had been forced to pick a side, then. He’d gotten over his hesitance at the Decepticon methods and given Lord Megatron his undying loyalty. And now…he was here, betrayed by the one who he as sworn himself to, watching a youngling Rescue Bot pace in nervous circles. It was something that should have been impossible.

Suddenly, the mechling froze, and wide amber optics turned to him. Idly, Dreadwing realized he must have made some noise, and then the little copter was yelping and scrabbling back. He paused, then hurried forward, his hands fluttering as if unsure what to do. Before the little one got too close, Dreadwing locked his own sharp, red optics onto him, and the bot froze in place with a startled yip.

For a long moment, there was only silent staring.

——————————

Blades was pacing. There wasn’t much else he could do. The day they had brought back the large Seeker, Heatwave had contacted Optimus. Only, the Prime had very quickly shut him down, explaining they were busy with an issue of “upmost importance” and that he would return their contact when he was able to. That had been three weeks ago, and he hadn’t called back. The Seeker was still in stasis, and Heatwave was once against attempting to make contact, for the 15th day in a row. Chase and the Chief were on patrol, and Boulder and the other humans were at Blossom Vale, having a picnic. Blades had opted to remain behind, wanting to keep an eye on the Seeker.

In the time since finding the large mech, Blades had done some research. He’d had to dig around the Sigma’s files, and dig through the files of the computer that connected them to Optimus, as well as dig through the various data-pads that had been left to them by High Tide and Optimus. It wasn’t much, but it was enough that he’d been able to piece together information about the War that the Prime hadn’t been telling them. Now, Blades understood why the War had started. The civil unrest had been a thing even before Sigma-17 had been formed, when he was still in the early days of training, it had been mild, then, but it had been there. So he wasn’t surprised that it had grown worse, especially if the root causes of the unrest hadn’t ever been addressed.

He also knew, from the information he’d dug up in his search, that after the fall of Vos, most Seekers had joined the Decepticons. Which meant that his patient was, in all likelihood, a Decepticon himself. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. But he hadn’t told the others his suspicions. Mostly because…something about the situation was odd. Optimus didn’t strike him as the type of mech who would inflict or approve of that type of wound being inflicted on a mech. So unless he had someone on his team who was excessively violent and he couldn’t control, Blades didn’t see that wound coming from the Autobots. Which meant it had come from the Decepticons. Of course, that only raised more questions. Namely, why would they do that to one of their own, if the mech really was a ‘Con? He wanted to get answers before he shared his suspicions. He didn’t want to condemn the Seeker to anything bad if he was wrong.

Unfortunately, that hadn’t been all he had learned, in the past few weeks. In one of the data pads High Tide had left about the early days of the war, there had been a mention of the “end of the Rescue Force”. It had just been a mention, a reference to an event that was probably detailed in a separate data pad. But he hadn’t ever found that separate data pad. And when he remembered What Optimus had said, when he’d first found them..”

“I was not aware Rescue Teams were…still active.”

He’d said it slowly, haltingly, as if choosing the words carefully. He’d paused before saying the last part too. At the time, Blades hadn’t thought much of it. But with the information about the War Optimus had allowed them to have, and the mention of the “end of the Rescue Force” in that one data pad, well…Blades was starting to think that “active” had not been the word that the Prime had actually meant. Something had happened, something he didn’t have enough information to figure out yet, but the faint picture he was starting to get from the pieces of information he did have wasn’t one he liked. It was another reason he was hesitant to share what he suspected about the Seeker. Optimus was keeping vital information from Sigma-17. He didn’t care if the Prime didn’t want them fighting in the War. He agreed that it was a bad idea. But he was withholding information that Blades suspected his team would very much want, and they didn’t even know it.

So here he was, pacing restlessly as his processor turned over the information he got, unsure how or even if he should share it. Would his team even believe him? He doubted they would. He knew they thought he was silly and couldn’t understand complex ideas, but that was far from the truth. After all, of all the Rescue Bots he had the greatest understanding of human nature and culture. His understanding wasn’t always 100% accurate, and just because he understand the what didn’t mean he understand the why, but he still understood more than any of the others. And sure, he applied most of his ability to learn new information to pop culture rather than the things the others might consider more “worthwhile”, but that was only because pop culture was more fun. Plus, pop culture was where humanity really displayed they way they ticked. Did it really make him that much of an idiot if all that was the case?

He was startled from his spiraling thoughts by a sound from the direction of the make-shift medical bay. The copter glanced in that direction, thinking it was one of his teammates, only to yelp and leap back upon seeing the Seeker. He’d known the other bot was large, but seeing him awake and up just confirmed how large. The red optics too, made discomfort curl in Blade’s tanks. The data-pads had suggested that red optics were typical of Decepticons, though they shouldn’t be used as an identifier of such. Even so, it was another tick in favor of his theory. Then the scene caught up to him, and medical training overrode his temporary moment of panic.

This bot wasn’t supposed to be up yet. In fact, even if he had been fully healed by the pods it was supposed to keep him under until Optimus could arrive. Except….Blades must have put in the settings wrong. He was so used to setting the stasis pods to release once the healing process was complete that he must have input that setting without realizing it. Which…presented a problem. Is this mech was hostile, he didn’t think his team could handle it. Those thoughts circled in the back of his processor as he directed the bulk of his worry towards making sure his patient was alright. His hands flapped awkwardly as he approached the larger flyer, ready to skim over his frame to check out his condition, when piercing red optics locked onto him. He froze with a high pitched squeak, his own optics blown wide as that gaze pinned him in place.

For a long moment, the two Cybertronians merely stared at each other.

Then Blades, getting increasingly nervous, broke the silence. “Are you okay?” he asked, curling and tucking his hands against his canopy. “The stasis pod should have healed you completely, but you were hurt pretty bad. Even most of your paint was gone, though it looks like your color nanintes were able to fix that while you were healing.”

Indeed, the mech standing in front of him was now in full color, his purple and yellow paint bold and bright on his frame. It did seem, however, that he was still missing a faction brand. If he’d ever had one, of course, though the copter strongly suspected he did.

The Seeker seemed put off for a moment, as if he didn’t know why Blades was worried. “I am well.” he said carefully. “Are you the one who repaired me?”

“Well, sort of?” Blades’s rotors fluttered against his back. “I’m a triage medic, so I couldn’t fix you completely, but I kept you online until my team and I could get you into a pod.”

The Seeker narrowed his eyes. “Team?” he repeated, obviously suspicious.

Blades squeaked again, shoulders hunching. “We’re Rescue Bots.” he gestured at his insignia before his hands tucked back against his canopy. “Team Sigma-17. I’m Blades.”

The Seeker was silent for a long moment. “You may call me Dreadwing.” he said slowly. His gaze was still piercing.

Blades nodded, then took a few steps forward, and when Dreadwing made no move to stop him, he closed the gap between them. “Do you mind if I scan you over one last time? I just want to be sure all your systems are in order.”

The Seeker bowed his helm, and Blades lifted his hands to skim over plating, using his built in scanning systems he’d gotten in his triage training to check his patient over. Everything was coming back fine, but with a wound as serious as his had been Blades away taking no chances.

“You are a Rescue Bot.” Dreadwing spoke. His voice was low, and there was an odd note to it.

“Yep. Me, Boulder, Chase, and Heatwave. We crashed here a while ago and Prime stationed us on this island to act as a rescue team for the locals.” he explained distractedly.

Dreadwing made a soft hum. “Prime knows you are here? Are you Autobots, then?”

Blades frowned. “He knows. He visits, sometimes, but not often. We haven’t been able to contact him lately though.” He was too focused on his task to think about whether he should actually,be answering so freely. The second question gave him pause, though. “No? At least, not really? We’re a Rescue Team. Rescue Bots take oaths off non-affiliation. We can’t side with any particular group or individual since our job is to help any bot or being that needs it.” He was reading over the results of his scans, mouth turned down. “We’re more closely tied to the Autobots right now, but that mostly because we don’t know much of what happened with the war. We were in stasis until we crashed.” He let the readings flicker away, and froze when he realized how much he’d shared. “Uhhh….”

Dreadwing only snorted, actually looking fairly amused. “Yes, I think it is quite clear now that you are no warrior, little youngling.” he rumbled. His expression darkened. “I understand why Prime stationed you here, out of sight. Megatron would see you hunted and slaughtered if he knew a Rescue Team still functioned.”

This made Blades freeze, and as he recalled Optimus’s first words to them, and that data pad, dread began to build in his spark. “What?” he asked weakly.

Dreadwing stared. “You were not told?” he sounded…angry. “That is foolish. It is not a pleasant tale, but you should have been told if only to ensure you understand the importance of your existence remaining secret.”

Blades swallowed. “Optimus doesn’t really tell us much of anything about the War, and the data pads he leaves only really cover the basic and important bits, not the details.” he whispered. “Does…does Megatron wanting my team offlined have anything to do with the “end of the Rescue Force”? I read about it in one of the data pads, but it was just a mention. I couldn’t find any details other than that one phrase.”

Dreadwing���s gaze was solemn as the little bot lifted his optics to meet it. “Yes.” he said bluntly. “In the early days of the War, Megatron grew angry that the Rescue Bots aligned with no faction, and he wanted to deprive the Autobots of any who might aid or help them. He ordered the destruction of the Rescue Force. The Headquarters was destroyed, and all Rescue Bots present were massacred. Any who survived, and any who had not been present in the initial attack, were systematically hunted and slain.”

Blades’s knees felt weak. He pressed his hands to Dreadwing’s chest to steady himself, grateful that the larger flyer didn’t protest it. His rotors rattled madly against his back with his distress, and his optics were blown wide.

“But that would mean…”

“You and your team are the last Rescue Bots in existence. All the others are offline and have been for many, many millennia.”

The copter’s knees gave out, and Dreadwing was quick to grasp his frame to keep him from hitting the ground. A sharp keen left Blades’s vocalizer, and the Seeker blessedly said nothing and made no moves to push as the youngling processed the new information.

It was, of course, that moment that the others chose to return.

——————————

Part 2

[shadyteacup]

Hello! If you’re free, I was wondering if I could have a request where 15y/o Dazai meets his future s/o which he feels comfortable around them and has good impression abt them. Like he’s wandering somewhere and suddenly run into them. They have a chitchat abt their thoughts on something and have fun talking to each other. Then leave and meet again when he joins ADA. (s/o is a weird kind of person, like out of this world)

I’m not an English speaker so sorry for my terrible English y-y. Btw, i love your writings!!💟

This is such an amazing idea! I had fun writing this! And dw, your English is spectacular ♡ Enjoy, dove!

Dazai Osamu x gn! Reader||Reader has a time traveling ability

Timeless

You were a time traveler. Your ability allowed you to visit places from different timelines. The only drawback was that you aged no matter where you were, even if you were using your ability. This meant that if you wanted to enjoy the present, you had to ensure that you didn't spend much time in the past. You couldn't visit the future.

But that was okay. You loved finding out the root of all problems. That's why you joined the ada. Your ability helped them to identify who the perpetrator was. You would travel in the past and be there at the crime scene at the right time. Then you'd come back and reveal important information like the hiding place of the murder weapon, or if they had been looking at the wrong suspect all along.

You were currently investigating the death of a businessman. His body had turned up near the docks. It was highly decomposed, and probably atleast 2 years dead. You decided to travel 2 years into the past, and made your way to the docks. While searching for the potential crime scene, you bumped into someone. A mop of brown hair stood a few steps ahead of you. The boy wore bandages all over his arms and neck, and had an eye covered. Judging by the absence of any outline of his eye on the bandage that covered it, and the lack of moisture, his eye probably wasn't injured at all. He was probably only wearing bandages to appear weak. But this was just an assumption on your part.

"Ah, I'm so sorry, boy. I didn't see you there!"

He looked at you with a dead look in his eye, then gave you the fakest smile to ever exist.

"It's alright. May I ask what you are doing at a place like this?"

You were taken aback by his cold demeanor. It reminded you a lot of your own self.

"I'm here to investigate a death."

You said. His eyes darkened at your words.

"You see, the body will be discovered two years later. No tangible evidence will be recovered, then. So I must find something useful here, now."

The boy smirked.

"Time traveling ability?"

You smiled.

"Yup."

His smirk dropped and he glared at you.

"I see. This is a dangerous adventure, dear. You might get caught in a string of trouble, one that might lead you to harm."

The boy's aura and dark look had made you suspicious about his employers, but now you were certain that he worked for the mafia.

"Don't worry. I'm pretty positive that the murder wasn't committed by someone from the mafia."

His surprise was momentary, but obvious. It caught your eye.

"Before you ask, no, I don't know your future self. Also, the method of the crime doesn't match the mafia's M.O."

He nodded, thinking.

"Well in that case, I don't think you and I should be enemies."

He chirped, a happy look on his face.

You were taken aback by the sudden change in his mood.

"Sure, kid."

You said, patting his shoulder and walking away, trying to find the crime scene. The area was littered with compartments and shipment goods. It all looked so similar, almost like a maze.

"Hey, kiddo, can you lend me a hand?"

He blinked in confusion.

"Um. Sure."

He was confused as to why you weren't afraid of him. You clearly knew he was from the mafia, but you still acted so casually around him. It made him think that you either represented somebody powerful, or worked for an influential employer.

You rummaged through your pocket, trying to find the picture. Handing him the the snap of the crime scene, you observed him as he peered into the paper.

"This way."

He said, walking between two cargo containers, and leading the way.

"I never got your name, boy."

He shrugged, peering at you over his shoulder.

"Does it really matter?"

You mimicked him, raising your shoulders in a lazy shrug.

"Maybe, maybe not. But I'd like to call you something other than 'boy'."

He hummed in thought.

"How about 'knight in shining armour'?"

You scoffed.

"I get the whole 'I'm helping you, so I'm a knight' thing, but I'm no damsel in distress."

He smirked.

"Oh? And what if I were to abandon you here? What would you do?"

You smirked.

"I'd find my way on my own. I don't need you, eye-patch."

He grinned at you smugly, stopping in his tracks and moving towards you. He leaned in, his face almost touching yours.

"And what if I were to overpower you, hmm? What would you do then?"

You shuffled closer to him, much to his surprise. You whispered near his ear.

"I'll ensure that you'll never be able to have kids."

Pushing him back, you snatched the picture from his palm, and continued searching for the location. He was astonished at your bravery. He always comes across as intimidating, and that was putting it mildly. You were very courageous.

Following you like a lost puppy, he watched you hide behind a bunch of wooden crates.

You patted the space next to you, beckoning him to sit there.

"The show's about to start, eye-patch."

You took out your camera and were ready to click.

That's when two men, clad in expensive suits walked over. One of them was explaining something to the other.

You began clicking a few snaps.

The guy who was observing, turned his back on the other for a second. That's when he brandished his knife and plunged it into the other's back. You were furiously tapping away on the camera's button, determined to get every detail of proof.

The victim suffered atleast 50 stabwounds, 53 to be exact, when the killer decided to stop and hide the body. You snapped every single second of the ordeal.

When the killer left the crime scene, the two of you got up, and dusted your clothes.

"Do you have any plans after this?"

He asked you.

"Well, not really. I was planning to grab a drink, maybe something to eat, before heading back."

You said.

"Or heading 'ahead', since I'm going to the future. I don't even know."

Dazai nodded his head.

"How about I treat you to a drink?"

You eye him suspiciously.

"I have no reason to harm you. You literally don't belong here, so I've got no reason to hurt you."

You hum in acknowledgement.

"Okay then. Lead the way."

....

"How old are you?"

He asked, swirling his drink in his glass.

"A few years older than you."

"Cryptic."

"Intrusive."

"Touche."

"You have so many questions, don't you, eye-patch. "

Dazai hummed, taking a sip.

"Consider me intruiged by your... ability."

He turned in his bar stool to face you.

"Why didn't you prevent it from happening?"

"Because if I break the flow of time, or even mess with it, everything will go haywire."

"And if you were able to prevent it, without disrupting the flow of time, would you have intervened?"

You gaze at your own glass.

"I would do some heavy research before I make my decision."

Dazai was curious. Did you not want to save people?

"Everybody has a reason for murder. Nobody wakes up one day and decides to kill someone. I'll dig into their lives and find out why the killer did it. And I'll decide whether or not preventing the murder would save an innocent life, or harm many others in the future."

"So, in short, you intend to play God."

You chuckled.

"If given the power, who in their right mind would turn down the offer? Everybody wants to play God. Our entire society is built that way. The one who has more money, more power, more influence, has the right to play God to those beneath them."

Dazai found you very interesting. The way you viewed the world was so unique. You were a textbook 'good person' but could easily become the 'bad guy' if given the resources. Good or bad doesn't really matter to him, he finds the difference between the two very confusing.

"Doesn't that make you, and everybody who has power, a "bad" person?"

You chuckled.

"Funny coming from a mafioso."

Downing the rest of your drink, you answer his question.

"The distinction between good and bad is so distorted. The same set of actions can be termed as good for certain circumstances, and bad for others. The villain is always the hero when you try to see the world through his shoes, and the hero is always the villain for those supporting the so called 'bad guy' ."

"I agree. I don't care about what's 'good' or 'bad' ,either."

"Then what do you follow?"

"What do you mean?"

"There must be some set of rules that you abide by. What are they?"

"I.. Don't have any. I'm a free bird!"

You tap your chin in thought.

"One must have something to fall back on when they don't know what to do. Something to blindly follow. For example, I follow a set of rules created by my morals and values. When I don't  know how to proceed, I remember them and act accordingly. "

Dazai observed you as you spoke, absorbing every single syllable that floated out if your luscious lips. He was attracted towards opinionated, strong and focused people. He adores the look on people's faces when they speek about their passions, and express their opinions on matters. Even if he disagreed with them, the fact that they have a strong reasoning behind their actions, and the way they calmly portray their points so skillfully, makes him like them more.

The way you were effortlessly articulating your inner thoughts was something that he was fascinated by. He had so much going on inside, so much turmoil, that it was impossible for him to express it out in words. But you seem to be so sorted and disciplined. He loved that about you.

"You'll get there someday, eye-patch. Don't worry. "

You comforted, smiling at the young man.

He smiled back at you. For the first time that day, he had given you a genuine smile.

"You should smile more. It suits you."

He blushed at your words. It was a weird feeling for him. He didn't understand why his face was heating up, or why his ears felt like they were on fire.

Flicking your wrist to check the time, you sighed.

"Well, time to leave."

Dazai held your wrist as you were about to get up.

"Wait!"

You looked at him quizzically.

"Will we meet again?"

You tilted your head and smiled at him.

" I can't say for sure, but I do hope that we do."

With that, he watched you walk out of the bar. He only respected Odasaku. But now, he respected you, too.

....

Time skip to a few weeks later.

....

"L/N san, please get yourself together, we're expecting a new member to join us, soon."

You laid on the couch of the ada as Kunikida rambled on about how everyone must be in their best behavior to greet their newest member. Yosano was handling most of it, so Ranpo and you had no work to do.

"Yes, yes, Doppo. Also, it's Y/N."

You said, stretching your arms above your head.

"Y/N kun, you need to try this new type of cookie. It has two different flavors!"

Ranpo said, offering you a cookie from his bag.

You smile at him, accepting it.

"Yum!"

"I know, right!"

"Ranpo san, Y/N san! Please come here! Our newest member has arrived!"

Both of you lazily got up and strolled over to the front of the office.

"What is the big deal, Doppo-"

You stopped mid sentence when you saw the person standing at the doorway.

"Eye-patch!"

Dazai's eyes widened when he saw you, the one person who had managed to intruige him other than his deceased friend, standing in the office. The office where he was to work at, today onwards.

"Damsel!"

He said, pointing at you.

You scoffed at his choice of nickname.

"Ha! I knew your eye was fine!"

"Do you both know each other?"

Kunikida asked.

"Ofcourse they do. They met a long time ago, right, Dazai?"

Ranpk said, muching on his sweets. Ofcourse, he figured it out.

"Well, not that long ago for me."

You smiled.

Dazai had finally met you. He was elated.

"I'm glad we met again."

"Don't worry, eye-patch, we have a lot of time to catch up. ;)"

[robininthelabyrinth]

Without a Path - Chapter 2 - ao3

Warnings: adult content - please mind the other tags on Ao3!

-

Morning came far sooner than Lan Qiren would have liked.

Unsurprisingly, he woke first, the habit long ingrained by his sect’s rules. Instead of rising, he twisted to look at Nie Mingjue, who had at some point wrapped himself around him like an especially warm blanket, his chin tucked in against his neck.

In the pale light of predawn, he looked calm and undisturbed. He looked young, and vulnerable, and like he shouldn’t have had to deal with any of that.

Lan Qiren let out a shuddering breath and wondered how he would ever justify this to – anyone.

Lan Xichen, for one. Himself, for another.

Nie Mingjue.

A moment later, far too soon, Nie Mingjue started stirring. Lan Qiren suppressed a moment of panic; he’d only had enough time to briefly clean himself, nothing else – for some reason he’d thought he would have more time to collect himself, to make a plan for their next steps. They would need to arrange an engagement, even if they didn’t go through with the actual marriage – Wen Ruohan hadn’t seemed like he would publicize what had happened in order to force them into a corner, since he was clearly still angling to get Nie Mingjue himself, but having something prepared would put them in a better situation, reduce anxiety…

“Teacher Lan?”

Lan Qiren flinched.

“Sect Leader Lan,” Nie Mingjue corrected himself quickly. He sat up, the blanket Lan Qiren had tugged over the two of them falling off to reveal the fact that he was still naked. “Thank you.”

Somehow, that was the thing that went too far.

“Don’t thank me,” Lan Qiren said, voice harsher than he meant it to be, unwelcoming and unfriendly. Nie Mingjue’s cultivation was high enough that he’d healed away most of the marks from the day before, but his lips were still red and Lan Qiren couldn’t stop seeing Wen Ruohan’s fingers slipping between them, violating him despite Nie Mingjue’s specific request that it not be allowed. Couldn’t stop hearing Wen Ruohan’s offer to share him, his suggestion that he would’ve invited Lan Qiren to join in, his expectation that he would have accepted.

He’d promised to help Nie Mingjue, and what had he done? He’d failed him. He hadn’t been able to think of another way out of their dilemma, which he should have – instead he’d used his former student’s body for his own pleasure, taken advantage of his youth and desperation, had him submit to him, had him call him teacher…

He might as well have been Jin Guangshan.

“There’s no need for you to thank me for what I’ve done to you,” he said, averting his eyes, hating himself.

“There is,” Nie Mingjue said. “Don’t get some stupid idea into your head or anything. You saved my life. You made it –”

He choked, and Lan Qiren turned to look at him again. Nie Mingjue’s cheeks were flushed, but he was looking straight at him, fierce and determined to say his thoughts no matter what.

“You made it better than it might have otherwise been,” he finally said. “It was – good.”

“That would be the drug,” Lan Qiren said, feeling his own cheeks burning. “Two drugs, in fact; you were right about that. Wen Ruohan admitted it.”

“I know,” Nie Mingjue said, and rubbed his nose when Lan Qiren looked at him sharply. “I remember some of it. I was…supposed to, I think. You drove him away.”

He had. Through sheer bravado, but he’d managed it.

At least he’d done that much.

“You’ll need to be careful of him in the future,” he warned, and Nie Mingjue nodded, his expression grim. “He won’t give up easily.”

“I’ll be careful,” Nie Mingjue promised, but then his eyes narrowed. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you changing the subject. It wasn’t just – because of the drug. You…” He flailed a bit. “You made it good. I liked – when you –”

He shook his head.

Lan Qiren cleared his throat, embarrassed and unsure of why Nie Mingjue continued to dwell on the point. He appreciated the younger man’s attempt to comfort him – another failing on his part, as he was the elder, the experienced one, and he had chosen freely, while Nie Mingjue had been coerced – but they really ought to focus on the more practical realities of –

“Can we do it again?”

Lan Qiren choked on air.

“Just – once more,” Nie Mingjue said. He was staring at the bedding. “I know I’m not – what you would want. You’re a Lan, you only want to be with your ‘one’, and I’m not…well, anyway, it’s not a situation where I can exactly let people know, is it? But since we’re both here already, we might as well. Right?”

If Lan Qiren had been Jin Guangshan, Nie Mingjue would already be pressed down, Lan Qiren reflected, and he couldn’t deny that certain parts of him were interested in that. But a lifetime of restraint gave him the discipline he needed to think the request through and see that it was not so clear as all that.

“What’s driving this?” Lan Qiren asked, crossing his arms. “You are not a man who succumbs so easily to lust.”

“I’m not,” Nie Mingjue acknowledged, meeting his eyes. “But I want there to be no mistake about what occurred between us.”

Lan Qiren frowned. “I should think it was quite clear.”

“It is, to me. I was in desperation, and you aided me, and it was good. The circumstances were not what either of us would have chosen, and perhaps not the partner, either, but I will not have you going home and torturing yourself into seclusion because you think that you took advantage of me. Xichen would never forgive me!”

Lan Qiren’s jaw dropped. “I would not!” he squawked, thinking to himself that he didn’t need the reminder that he’d bedded a man who was friends with his nephew.

Besides, Nie Mingjue was wrong: yes, he’d been feeling guilty, even agonizingly guilty, but there were limits to such things. Lan Qiren still had two nephews and a sect to run; he couldn’t follow his brother’s example and abandon all his responsibilities no matter how badly he felt.

Nie Mingjue did not appear convinced.

“Even if I did have such an inclination, you don’t have to have sex with me to disprove it,” Lan Qiren insisted.

“Maybe I want to,” Nie Mingjue said stubbornly. “Maybe I’d like to know what sex is like when I’m not drugged to the gills, and this is my only opportunity.”

“But it isn’t,” Lan Qiren argued. “Sect Leader Wen made it clear that he wouldn’t press for a marriage, and no one else knows – you’ll be able to return to your sect, continue as Sect Leader. You could take another lover –”

“Oh, because that’ll work,” Nie Mingjue said, and now he was the one with his arms crossed and eyes narrowed in a glare. “Even if Wen Ruohan won’t press the matter now, he’s only doing it because he still thinks he can do better. If I were to go to bed with someone else, someone neither you nor him, you really think he’d hesitate? And then I’d be an adulterer as well.”

That was – a very good point.

“It was my first time, Teacher Lan,” Nie Mingjue said, pressing his advantage the moment he saw that he was gaining some ground. He was a fearsome opponent, whether in battle or out. “Didn’t it ever occur to you that maybe I had some ideas of my own, things I wanted to try out…”

“Like what?” Lan Qiren asked, cutting him off with an arched eyebrow. He didn’t actually think Nie Mingjue was pushing this idea for his own purposes, even he was making a solid argument; this was all a roundabout means of ensuring that Lan Qiren wouldn’t go into seclusion over his guilt.

Sure enough, Nie Mingjue spluttered a little, and Lan Qiren smiled, intending on pointing out that neither of them were in any state to be having this discussion – that surely after some time and sober reflection they would be able to come up with a better way to deal with the threat of Wen Ruohan and societal expectations both – except he never got the chance to say it before Nie Mingjue blurted out, “I want to suck your cock.”

Lan Qiren stared.

Nie Mingjue looked back at him, defiant. “Well?” he said, challenge clear in his voice. “You’re not going to let the only memory I have on my tongue be Wen Ruohan, are you, Teacher Lan?”

Lan Qiren should refuse him. He should insist on them both pulling back – on Nie Mingjue getting dressed, he was still without a stitch of clothing on him – on taking some time to think before doing anything he couldn’t get back.

He shouldn’t be leaning back against the wall and waving his hand in implied permission.

He definitely shouldn’t do that, which is why he was so surprised to find that he was, in fact, doing it.

Nie Mingjue rose up on his knees and bent down with the recklessness aggression that was more characteristic of him than the hesitation of the day before, pushing aside Lan Qiren’s robes, and Lan Qiren was struck by a sudden, visceral memory of the day before, his cock shining with traces of Nie Mingjue’s own slick on it.

He didn’t have time to think about that too long, though, before his cock, already hard enough to ache, was disappearing into Nie Mingjue’s eager mouth.

It took Nie Mingjue a few tries to figure out what exactly to do – at first he let Lan Qiren’s cock into his cheek, and then to his throat, nearly choking when he did, and finally helped himself with his hand to Lan Qiren’s balls as if to steady himself, and he seemed uncertain as to whether he ought to be sucking or using his tongue or simply letting Lan Qiren’s cock sit on his tongue, trying one after the other without much distinction.

It was awful.

It was amazing.

Nie Mingjue’s hair was entirely loose now, falling over his face and onto Lan Qiren’s thighs, his expression intent and focused as if he were training his saber, his mouth full of Lan Qiren’s cock.

Lan Qiren found his hands drifting up and over towards him and restrained himself, forcing them back to his sides, but Nie Mingjue saw him and pulled up, wiping the drool off the corner of his mouth with the back of his palm.

“Teacher Lan,” he said. “This unlearned student humbly requests his teacher’s guidance.”

It was a lot harder to hide his interest when his cock was twitching in Nie Mingjue’s grip, Lan Qiren thought. He reached out and ran his fingers through Nie Mingjue’s hair, making the other man shiver.

“Students should not be impertinent,” he said, and Nie Mingjue swallowed hard. “If I agree to teach you, will you be obedient?”

“Yes, Teacher Lan,” Nie Mingjue said, and Lan Qiren guided his mouth back to his cock.

Nie Mingjue was, as always, a fast learner, even if the subject Lan Qiren was instructing him in was something he himself had little experience in beyond his fantasies. He avoided using teeth, cleverly applied his tongue, and sucked him enthusiastically, eagerly taking more into his mouth as soon as he could, tears springing into the corners of his eyes. He even obeyed Lan Qiren’s order to put his hands behind his back, hands clasping onto wrists, and allowed Lan Qiren to fuck his face, his fingers dug into his hair and scalp as his hips set a bruising pace.

“Do you want me to come in your mouth?” Lan Qiren asked when the possibility seemed close by, releasing him enough to pull off.

“No,” Nie Mingjue said, and his voice was a little hoarse. Hoarse from the use Lan Qiren had made of his throat, Lan Qiren thought, and noted that it was his cock that was shiny with spit this time, not Wen Ruohan’s fingers. A much better mental image. Perhaps there was something to Nie Mingjue’s idea of moving past yesterday’s events after all, though that might just be Lan Qiren’s libido making retroactive justifications. “Can I…on top?”

“You want to ride me?” Lan Qiren asked, and Nie Mingjue nodded, looking shamefaced. “You may.”

He said it as if he were granting Nie Mingjue a favor, but he watched avidly as Nie Mingjue clambered over to him, straddling him and kneeling above him, and swallowed when he realized that Nie Mingjue had yet to release his hands from behind his back – he hadn’t been given permission, so he hadn’t.

“Good boy,” Lan Qiren praised, and Nie Mingjue bit his lip. “You may use your hands to guide me inside.”

Nie Mingjue ended up having to finger himself open first to get him in there, grumbling about his healing speed, but Lan Qiren didn’t object to the delay – not when it gave him the front row seat to such an appealing show. Not when Nie Mingjue grunted as if struck when he finally pressed down in just the right way and Lan Qiren’s cock slipped inside of him.

“You’re so fucking big,” Nie Mingjue hissed, clearly not meaning it as a compliment as he put one arm on Lan Qiren’s shoulder to brace himself. “This is ridiculous. Other people aren’t like this.”

Lan Qiren was aware that he was above average in that particular regard, although not monstrously so. “Have you seen others?” he asked, curious, and was surprised when Nie Mingjue nodded.

“The Unclean Realm has common baths,” he reminded him. “Hot springs.”

Lan Qiren had known that, of course – had even taken advantage of them several times when visiting on discussion conferences or otherwise – but somehow he hadn’t expected that Nie Mingjue would have shared the baths with other men. He supposed that was his own failure of imagination and his unfamiliarity with the whole notion of misalignment, despite having disciplined his thoughts to accept it - after all, Nie Mingjue might be misaligned, might have the body of a woman, but he was a man of the Qinghe Nie, and the penalties for sexual misconduct in that sect were even stricter than the Lan sect’s. If he was recognized as a man, then surely he was a man, with all that entailed, and of course it would presumably have been even more inappropriate for him to go to the women’s baths…

He lost the train of thought entirely a moment later when, apparently impatient to get to it, Nie Mingjue proceeded to shove himself halfway down, impaling himself open on his cock. Lan Qiren caught his hips before he did himself any damage. “Slowly,” he snapped, then reined himself in. “Please recall that it is also a sensitive area for me.”

“Right,” Nie Mingjue said, flushing. “Of course. Slowly?”

“Slowly.”

Nie Mingjue gingerly settled himself the rest of the way down, sliding until he was fully seated, his cunt stretched wide across Lan Qiren’s cock. In the light of dawn, hair a mess and body still sticky with yesterday’s sweat, he looked beautiful as he started slowly working his hips up and down, his hand sliding in between his legs to rub at his clit as he started riding Lan Qiren in earnest.

“You’re doing so well,” Lan Qiren said. “Taking me so well. Is this what you wanted?”

“Yes,” Nie Mingjue panted. “Yes – yes. Like this. Like yesterday. It’s good.”

Lan Qiren brushed his hair back and touched him, ran his hands over his cheeks, his swollen lips, over his shoulders and down his sides, put his hands on his thighs and his hips, slid them back to cup his ass.

“Good,” he said, rocking his hips up to meet him. “I want you to feel good.”

“Can I –” Nie Mingjue started, and then hesitated.

Lan Qiren couldn’t help feeling a stab of humor. “Is there really something you’re afraid to ask me?” he inquired sternly. “Now?”

He squeezed Nie Mingjue’s ass with his hands, fingers kneading the firm flesh, one even slipping back to rub across his hole, and Nie Mingjue flushed.

“Can I kiss you?” he blurted out, and Lan Qiren stilled.

Had they not…? No, he supposed they hadn’t. They’d fucked several times in several positions, Nie Mingjue had even gotten on his knees and put his cock into his mouth, and Lan Qiren hadn’t once kissed him.

“You may,” he said, his voice softening, and Nie Mingjue surged forward to press their lips together. It was a bad kiss by any objective criteria, too hard and noses bumping into each other, and Nie Mingjue had no idea what he was supposed to do with his tongue, whether to stick it into Lan Qiren’s mouth or simply jab it at him; after a moment he tried to pull back, looking embarrassed.

Lan Qiren caught him by the chin and drew him back in, trying to show him with his own lips what to do.

They kissed for a while, long, wet, slow kisses in the light of the morning dawn, Nie Mingjue in Lan Qiren’s lap with Lan Qiren’s cock seated firmly in his cunt, their hands in each other’s hair.

Lan Qiren felt something a little strange, a pulling sensation and then something falling, and then a moment later Nie Mingjue pulled back with a small exclamation of surprise: he’d accidentally tugged Lan Qiren’s forehead ribbon free. While it was bound tightly, its position reinforced with magic, Lan Qiren hadn’t rearranged it since the evening before, when it had undoubtedly become loose during their activities.

“Oh! I’m sorry,” Nie Mingjue said, watching as the ribbon fluttered down, twining with his fingers. “I didn’t mean to –”

Lan Qiren rose up in a sudden movement and pushed him back onto the bed.

“I’m going to fuck you,” he announced, suddenly giddy – like any good Lan, his ribbon was his self-restraint, and must never be touched by any but his parents, his children, or his lover. It belatedly occured to him that per that last exception, Nie Mingjue was at the moment unquestionably permitted. “Put your hands above your head.”

Nie Mingjue looked confused, but obeyed at once – such a good student – and gaped when Lan Qiren looped his forehead ribbon around his wrists, tying him to the bed.

“You can hold onto it if you like,” Lan Qiren told him kindly, and then set about fucking him as enthusiastically as he might have ever imagined doing to a lover. Nie Mingjue did end up clutching at the ribbon as if for balance, yielding completely to Lan Qiren’s whims as he fucked him in multiple positions, pushing his body around as if it was his own personal doll.

They ended up side by side, with Lan Qiren penetrating Nie Mingjue from behind and Nie Mingjue having freed one hand – with Lan Qiren’s permission, of course – to frantically touch himself as Lan Qiren fucked him. He came first, body shuddering, and Lan Qiren took advantage of his suddenly slack body to curl up against him and use him mercilessly before he, too, reached completion, spilling into that warm, wet heat.

“Fuck,” Nie Mingjue said, panting as Lan Qiren pulled out and sat up. He sounded impressed. “I see why you keep those on.”

Lan Qiren retrieved his forehead ribbon from where it was still looped around Nie Mingjue’s other hand and settled it back in place on his forehead before starting to gather up the rest of his clothing, discarded at some point in the morning’s proceedings as it had not been the evening before. “You did too well in my classes for me to think that you don’t know that that is not how that works,” he said primly, and was rewarded with Nie Mingjue’s smile.

Truly a handsome young man.

His lover. Apparently.

The last few days had been full of terrible decisions, this morning’s almost certainly among them, but he was suddenly having trouble feeling regret. It was difficult to think of himself as another Jin Guangshan, careless and ruthless with the bodies of others, when his own lover looked pleased as a smug cat and just as satisfied. When only moments before he’d been whimpering out pleas for more amidst moans of pleasure that Lan Qiren had himself wrung from his body.

Perhaps Nie Mingjue had had a point, about the seclusion. He would not have actually retreated from the world as his brother did, but he might have tried to punish himself in other ways, withdrawing from the things he liked best – teaching, for one – without considering that Nie Mingjue was, unlike his actual students, an adult capable of making his own decisions, having his own calculus of what was acceptable and what was not.

“I’ll call for baths to be prepared,” he decided. They really did have to discuss their next steps, even if his own forward thinking was currently restricted to his intense need to clean himself thoroughly.

“Excellent idea,” Nie Mingjue said, sitting up himself and rubbing his wrists. “I feel absolutely filthy – sticky all over. I’ve ended night-hunts, good ones, and still been less sweaty than this…”

Lan Qiren made the mistake of looking at Nie Mingjue as he stretched himself and swallowed abruptly when he saw the place between his thighs, still reddened from their joining, and the trickle of fluid that slowly seeped down and dripped onto his thigh.

His first reaction was a smug feeling of pride and possession.

His second –

“I shouldn’t have finished inside of you,” he abruptly realized. He’d been thinking of Nie Mingjue as a man, and one could sow seeds all one liked with a man without concern that one of them might take root - but even if Nie Mingjue was a man in his mind and soul, his body was not. “The storm has passed, but the hill is likely to be still impassible for some time yet. I don’t know if there will be appropriate medicine available…”

Nie Mingjue stared at him briefly, then abruptly sniggered. “You’re worrying about that now?” he asked, eyes curved up into crescents. “Teacher, how many times did you come inside of me yesterday?”

It had in fact been rather a lot.

He resisted defending himself by arguing that even if it might not have been strictly necessary as a technical matter, it was surely unavoidable because they wouldn’t have been able to tolerate a few more rounds; Nie Mingjue wasn’t even accusing him of anything.

“Aren’t you concerned?” Lan Qiren asked hesitantly. “About the possibility of a –” He choked a little. “Of a child?”

“I’d resigned myself to the risk from the start,” Nie Mingjue said with a shrug that was, in Lan Qiren’s view, taking things far too casually. “Medicine taken after the fact is notoriously unreliable – there are plenty of children in the world that owe their births to that! There’s nothing to be done about it, so don’t panic unnecessarily. It’ll be what it is, and at least the child, if there is one, won’t be surnamed Wen.”

It would serve Wen Ruohan’s purposes very well to ensure that Nie Mingjue was impregnated, Lan Qiren thought, panicking a perfectly reasonable amount in his opinion. What better way to show off his power and dominion over the powerful Nie sect than to force their sect leader to bear him a child? There were medicines to increase fertility as well, even if most doctors recommended against them, and of course Wen Ruohan wouldn’t care about the increased risk, even though even the strongest female cultivators often died in the birthing bed…

Even putting aside the risks, he’d never really thought too closely about having a child of his own. What would his nephews think of all this? They were still young, especially little Wangji – would they think he was seeking to replace them? Would they –

“– teacher? Sect Leader Lan?”

Lan Qiren blinked and forced himself to pay attention to Nie Mingjue, who was now fully dressed and standing in front of him. He looked much as he always did, tall and powerful, indominable – it was far too early for there to be any signs if he was pregnant, of course, but Lan Qiren couldn’t help but examine him with his eyes, wondering. Was it possible that even now…?

“Did I break you?” Nie Mingjue asked, and waved his hand in front of Lan Qiren’s eyes.

“You did not,” Lan Qiren said, finally recovering some of his dignity. “I was merely distracted. The baths –”

“I’ve already asked for them,” Nie Mingjue said, smirking. “You may need to have a conversation with your attendants regarding discretion – I doubt they missed the smell – but baths will be ready soon. We rose early enough that we’ll be able to bathe, change clothing, and still make it to the first meeting of the day, though I expect that will be cancelled on account of crisis.”

Lan Qiren frowned. “Crisis? Are you planning…”

He trailed off, abruptly disappointed in himself. He’d been about to ask if Nie Mingjue were planning on confronting Wen Ruohan for what he’d done, and to counsel against it – they could not afford to start a war, his sect would never support a war – but then he hadn’t been the target of Wen Ruohan’s scheme, even if he’d been involuntarily pulled into the mire. Who was he to tell Nie Mingjue that he couldn’t even vent his frustration?

“Oh, not me,” Nie Mingjue said, his thoughts clearly not following Lan Qiren’s at all from the faint smirk on his face. “Collateral damage only.”

“…oh?”

“Your attendants brought gossip as well as breakfast,” Nie Mingjue said, looking positively smug. “And I had time to send my own attendants to do the same for Sect Leader Jiang.”

Now Lan Qiren was truly lost. Nie Mingjue looked like a cat that had just brought home some murdered prey and wanted to be praised for it, but he couldn’t figure out what it was that he’d done. “Sect Leader Jiang?” he asked, bemused and deciding to put aside his attendants’ behavior for the moment. “You sent him – breakfast and news?”

“Breakfast, and a tonic to help ease any side-effects of the drug he, like the two of us, was dosed with,” Nie Mingjue said. “I imagine he’ll be very relieved to know he has something to blame for his conduct last night.”

“His – oh no,” Lan Qiren said. “One of the dancers?”

“One of the dancers,” Nie Mingjue confirmed.

“Yu Ziyuan –” Is going to cut off his balls and wear them as earrings. “– will not be pleased.”

“No, I imagine not.”

Lan Qiren studied Nie Mingjue. “Did you, by chance, happen to mention who was responsible for putting the drugs in his food?”

“Naturally. I even mentioned that the bottle I found in the kitchens appeared to be stamped with the mark of a Lanling glassmaker.”

Lan Qiren pinched the brow of his nose. Jiang Fengmian was a very easy-going man, most of the time, but his extremely vicious wife was his bottom line – he would undoubtedly kick up his version of a fuss with both Wen Ruohan and Jin Guangshan, and his version of a fuss, while not violent, was extremely time-consuming. The morning and, very likely, the afternoon, were almost certain to be a complete waste of everyone’s time.

“A bath first,” Lan Qiren said, deciding not to think about it. “And then we should discuss out next steps.”

“A bath for sure,” Nie Mingjue said, and scrubbed his face, satisfaction at sending a disaster to his enemies’ doorstep fading in favor of his habitual scowl. “As for next steps…I don’t think there’s anything to be done. We’re not prepared for a war and I can’t beat Wen Ruohan in a duel, so there’s no point in calling him out, especially as most of the cultivation world would say that nothing actually bad came of it.”

They would, too, and probably imply that Nie Mingjue had brought his fate upon himself by being born the way he was born and then not conforming himself to the accepted behaviors of the sex of his birth.

They would also then proceed to congratulate Lan Qiren and he would be forced to murder them to make them stop (and then he would need to retreat to seclusion), so it was probably all for the best that Nie Mingjue wasn’t being reckless.

“If he’s not going to press for a marriage, then we write up an engagement contract and sit on it,” Nie Mingjue concluded. “We carry on as we always have, each of us in our own sects, and, with luck, no one finds out that it exists except for the two of us.”

“For how long?”

“Until Wen Ruohan is defeated,” Nie Mingjue said, then amended, “Or until you find someone else you wish to marry, of course. I would not stand between you and your ‘one’.”

Lan Qiren had his nephews and his sect to care for; he had precious few opportunities to leave his sect to meet new people, and even fewer people would be interested in him, knowing that he was only a stand-in with all the responsibilities and none of the privileges. He had already resigned himself to not even thinking of marriage until his nephews were old enough to inherit the role of sect leader.

“I do not expect that to be an issue,” he said briefly, then glanced at Nie Mingjue’s midsection. “What if…?”

“We’ll find out in a month or so,” Nie Mingjue said, shrugging. “No point in worrying about it until then, is there?”

It was times like this that Lan Qiren appreciated and also despised the brutal practicality of the Nie sect.

“Very well,” he said, and tried not to wonder if the child would be surnamed Nie or Lan, assuming it even existed. Though perhaps it was a cruelty of him to think of it, given… “How old are you?”

Nie Mingjue gave him a strange look, which Lan Qiren supposed he deserved, knowing as he did that the Qinghe Nie did not share that information.

“Just – you’re of age?” he tried. “An adult?”

“I’m old enough,” Nie Mingjue assured him. “There are younger than me that have been mothers safely.”

That wasn’t entirely what Lan Qiren was asking, but he knew he wouldn’t get a better response, and in all truth he wasn’t really sure he wanted to know, either. Knowing wouldn’t change what he’d done – what they’d done together – and shamefully it probably wouldn’t make his desire to do it again any less.

He vaguely heard a distant crash.

“Oh, good!” Nie Mingjue said. “Sect Leader Jiang woke up.”

Lan Qiren grimaced and went to bathe. He would deal with this – with all of this, up to and including his emotional reaction to everything that had happened in the past day – later.

For now, he would carry on.

Everything else could wait.

It did.

Years later, when the war they had tried so hard to prevent was won – when Lan Qiren had been nearly crippled by Wen Xu, who Nie Mingjue later beheaded – when Nie Mingjue was the war god of the cultivation world, and Lan Xichen, Lan Qiren’s nephew who had once been so young, was now renowned as a heaven-sent bringer of mercy, when the two of them had sworn brotherhood along with the man who had (finally) killed Wen Ruohan and brought an end to the cultivation world’s long nightmare – Nie Mingjue came to the Cloud Recesses on foot through the mountain path.

This was, of course, the most irritating way to get to the Cloud Recesses, so it was no surprise that Lan Xichen was waiting patiently for him by the gate, an expression of curiosity writ large all over his face to those who knew him well enough to read it.

“Is something the matter?” he asked the moment Nie Mingjue made it to the gate. “Is Baxia…?”

“Baxia’s fine, I’m fine,” Nie Mingjue said. “Also, I may be thinking something terribly rude about your ancestors in relation to that last hill, but I hope you won’t hold it against me.”

He wouldn’t be the first, or the last, to think such things. There was a reason some of their more reasonable ancestors had invested in stairs for the main entrance, strong cultivators or not.

“Can we speak in private?” he added. “In your study, perhaps – and you should invite your uncle.”

Lan Xichen looked even more intrigued. “Of course, da-ge. At once.”

It was a little presumptuous of him to promise such a thing, given that Lan Qiren might have been busy, but he wasn’t. He certainly wasn’t skulking around the entrance gate along with far too many others in his sect, wondering why Nie Mingjue hadn’t ridden a horse or taken the easy way up along the stairs that had been put in place for just that reason, although one might be forgiven for thinking that that was what he was doing – at any rate, there was no conflict, and so they all three of them went to Lan Xichen’s rooms.

The sect leader’s rooms, now. It was still a little strange.

“I’ll have someone fetch us tea,” Lan Xichen said, but Nie Mingjue shook his head. “No?”

“Don’t preempt me,” Nie Mingjue said, and pulled a qiankun pouch out of his sleeve. “Tea is part of the gifts I brought.”

“Gifts,” Lan Xichen repeated, his eyes going wide and a little worried. He knew, and Lan Qiren knew, what that might mean. “You brought gifts?”

Nie Mingjue nodded. “Walk on a road with no path, bearing gifts,” he recited, and Lan Qiren felt his heart try to stop in his chest at the confirmation of Nie Mingjue’s intention. “That’s how proper wedding proposals are done in the Lan sect, aren’t they?”

“Under…certain circumstances,” Lan Xichen admitted. He put his hands behind his back to hide his anxiety. “Da-ge…you’ve always been a – very good friend –”

“Of many years running,” Nie Mingjue agreed. “I’m not going to lie; I’m hoping to capitalize on that to get your approval.”

“My…approval?” Lan Xichen asked, astonished, and rightfully so: he was no one’s father, so his approval would only be required for those whose parents had already died – a function of his role as sect leader. Yet, sect leader or not, no one could grant their approval over their own marriage, and that meant that Nie Mingjue was not, as Lan Xichen had so clearly feared, here to propose to him – poor Lan Xichen, who was exclusively interested in women and who had on account of that already needed to subtly turn down the advances of his other sworn brother. “You want my approval?”

“Yes,” Nie Mingjue said. “I’m here for your uncle.”

“My – shufu?!”

“We’re already engaged, so that should make it easier to get it through your sect elders,” Nie Mingjue said. “I still wanted to do it right, though.”

Lan Qiren covered his eyes with his hands as Lan Xichen exclaimed, far too loudly, “You’re engaged?! To shufu? Since when?!”

There were several audible thunk sounds from outside the hanshi. Several people would need to be punished for eavesdropping, and by morning they would probably need to discipline the entire sect for breaching the prohibition against gossip.

“Oh, ages,” Nie Mingjue said blithely, and Lan Qiren resisted the urge to try to wring his neck. “I think you were something like fifteen? It was something of a matter of circumstance at the time, though I like to think we’ve reached an understanding in the ensuing years.”

Lan Xichen’s mouth kept moving, but no sound was coming out.

“Are you intending on me marrying into your sect?” Lan Qiren asked, deciding to move onto the practicalities while his nephew processed his shock.

Nie Mingjue nodded. “Obviously you can come to the Cloud Recesses as much as required to assist Xichen with his responsibilities, but your reputation as a teacher is such that I’m sure you would be able to teach just as well from the Unclean Realm.”

“Statements like that may lead my sect elders to think that you’re trying to poach me.”

“Well, I wasn’t planning on starting my pitch to them by pointing out that the Unclean Realm has more surfaces we can fuck against, was I?”

Lan Xichen made an extremely high-pitched sound from the back of his throat.

“I would advise against making that argument, yes,” Lan Qiren said with a sigh. “However, it would be more helpful to point out how this would mitigate their concern regarding additional collateral branches in the main lineage of the Lan clan.”

“I’ll take your advice,” Nie Mingjue said. “I’ll also read your agreement to the entire concept into it. Well, Xichen? You going to let me steal your uncle away or what?”

“I would hardly term it as stealing –”

“You had sex?!” Lan Xichen shouted. “With my uncle?! And – uncle! You! With Mingjue-xiong?!”

“This may take a while,” Lan Qiren said to Nie Mingjue, maintaining his dignity.

“I’m going to tell Wangji!”

“Possibly a long while,” he revised.

“I’ll go wait in your quarters then, shall I?”

“You will,” Lan Qiren said testily, “wait in the guest quarters to which you will be assigned, as is appropriate.”

Nie Mingjue grinned at him. “Oh, all right,” he said. “Maybe I’ll go to the library and read up on interpretations regarding your sect’s rules on promiscuity between engaged couples.”

“Da-ge!”

“Sect Leader Nie, don’t make this worse. Go already.”

“I’m going, I’m going…”

Lan Qiren would not start his married life by strangling his intended, no matter how much of a troublemaker he was being. Though he might put him over his knee later on.

Something to think about.

[ibijau]

forbidden romance gets a pt2! / on AO3

“It won't work,” Lan Xichen said with great gentleness, clearly worried about hurting Nie Huaisang's feelings.

They'd decided to meet again in that same clearing, after a few secret letters exchanged. Nie Huaisang would have preferred to only talk that way, because he trusted himself to make a person fall in love through poetry more than through his actual personality, but things had been getting... difficult at home.

So there they were again, alone in this isolated little spot of wilderness, hidden among the many shadows of a moonless night. Lan Xichen, this time, was wearing dark blue to better disappear into the night, or perhaps as a small act of rebellion against his sect. Nie Huaisang too wore dark colours, his robes those of a servant. He didn't enjoy the feeling of that rougher fabric, but there had been no choice.

Things were difficult at home.

So difficult that Nie Huaisang had taken the risk of telling Lan Xichen why he'd first tried to contact someone from Gusu Lan, all those weeks ago.

“Music can't heal him then?” Nie Huaisang asked.

“It can,” Lan Xichen corrected. “The issue is that your brother will not allow it.”

“Not if it's you, that's certain,” Nie Huaisang agreed.

He might have said that with a touch more bitterness than he should have. Lan Xichen ever so slightly flinched at the attack, though at least he didn't try to defend himself. Maybe he was feeling guilty over what had happened.

Good.

It was his fault.

“Maybe if it's your uncle who comes play for him?” Nie Huaisang suggested. “Da-ge trusts him.”

“From what you said, I don't think your brother trusts anyone anymore,” Lan Xichen replied. “I cannot blame him for it.”

“He trusts his family,” Nie Huaisang claimed with a confidence that he was far from feeling.

He'd always known that his brother trusted him. They fought and argued and disagreed and bickered, but at the end of the day they trusted each other.

They used to trust each other.

Now Nie Mingjue saw enemies everywhere, and Nie Huaisang had been forbidden to leave the Unclean Realm. For his own safety, his brother had said. And maybe he'd meant it, or maybe he'd held suspicions of some sorts. One of his brothers had just tried to kill him after all, and there were many precedents in history concerning half-brothers scheming against one another for power. Not that Nie Huaisang had ever care for power much, but he couldn't be sure Nie Mingjue remembered that.

“Da-ge has always held his sect dearer than any other leader of a great sect,” Lan Xichen agreed with a fond smile. “And perhaps... Huaisang, are there any musically inclined people among your brother's disciples?”

“No. Some of my cousins play, but very poorly. I think out of everyone in the Unclean Realm, I'm the most talented musician, and that tell you everything you need to know.”

“It does,” Lan Xichen said with a tender expression that made Nie Huaisang feel they probably meant very different things.

“I'm a very poor at it,” Nie Huaisang insisted, opening a fan to hide behind.

“I've heard you say the same thing about painting,” Lan Xichen replied. “And about poetry. I've also heard you say countless time that you never get your way with anything, only to get everyone to do exactly as you like. I think you're not always the best judge of your own abilities, Huaisang.”

That was a very low blow, especially when Lan Xichen had the guts of smiling. A real smile, that was, not the empty expression he usually had when talking to people, and which made him look like a doll, pretty and sweet but ultimately dull.

“I didn't take you for a sweet talker, er-ge,” Nie Huaisang said.

“I don't take myself for one either. I haven't said anything I don't mean,” Lan Xichen insisted, before reaching out to take Nie Huaisang's hand in his.

Nie Huaisang's other hand tightened on his fan, his face burning in spite of the cold of night. Which wouldn't do at all. He was the one supposed to be seducing Lan Xichen into actually helping!

“Er-ge, I'm very glad you think so well of me, but I simply cannot...”

“Do you play the guqin?” Lan Xichen asked, and it was so rare for him to interrupt anyone that Nie Huaisang could only silently nod.

He felt a pang of regret when Lan Xichen let go of his hand. He was only missing the warmth, he told himself. Then he saw Lan Xichen produce a guqin from a qiankun pouch, and regret was soon replaced by panic.

“You're not serious,” Nie Huaisang gasped, watching as Lan Xichen carefully set the instrument on the smoothest patch of ground to be found in the clearing.

“I am very serious,” Lan Xichen replied after sitting down, making a gesture to invite Nie Huaisang to do the same. “You've said this place is isolated, and I need to hear you play to find out if you might be taught Cleansing.”

Nie Huaisang shivered at the name of that song, and glared at the guqin.

“Isn't that song a Lan secret?”

“I have previously obtained permission to teach it to an outsider to help with da-ge's poor health,” Lan Xichen said. “I believe I am still within the perimeter of what was granted to me.”

It surprised Nie Huaisang that Lan Xichen could twist the truth like that. In other circumstances, he might have been impressed. At the moment though, he was little inclined to think well of Lan Xichen.

“Considering what happened last time, I'm surprised you're sticking to that plan,” Nie Huaisang said, only to regret it when pain flashed on the other man's face.

“It would be different this time,” Lan Xichen replied, lowering his gaze, though he could not hide the slight trembling in his voice. “I know I misjudged A-Yao. Your brother was right, and I was wrong. But when it comes to you, da-ge and I have always been of a same mind. If I cannot trust you to save him, there isn't a person in the world I can trust.”

That might have been the nicest thing anyone had ever said about Nie Huaisang.

It might also be the most overestimated he'd ever been in his life. Because while he would very gladly do almost anything to save his brother, as long as if didn't involved getting dirty, or physical effort, or indeed efforts of any sort at all... well, the fact still remained that Nie Huaisang had no cultivation to speak of, no friends to rely on, and no useful skill of any sorts.

And yet knowing all this, Nie Huaisang still found himself sitting down on the dirt next to that damn guqin. He closed his fan, stretched his fingers, and tried to recall one of the few melodies he'd ever bothered to learn before he'd decided that music was too much work. It had been so long, though, and instead his mind provided him with the only piece of music that had been on his mind in recent weeks.

It took a dozen notes at most for Lan Xichen to realise what Nie Huaisang had chosen to play. He stiffened and went pale, but did not order Nie Huaisang to stop. On the contrary he listened attentively through the whole piece, though at one point Nie Huaisang must have made some great mistake because Lan Xichen frowned and couldn't refrain a grimace of distaste. It only lasted a short while though, after which his expression turned more neutral again until Nie Huaisang was done playing.

“As I've said, I have very little skill,” Nie Huaisang said, putting his hands on his knees. “You'll need another...”

“I assume you've never seen the score of Cleansing?” Lan Xichen asked.

“No. San-ge was always worried about me dirtying it. It made me real mad, too! I'm only a little clumsy!”

“So you just played it by ear?” Lan Xichen insisted. “I don't recall that I ever played it in your presence though.”

Nie Huaisang shook his head.

“I spied on them,” he confessed. “San-ge didn't want for me to hear him play it because he said it might have a bad effect on me, seeing as I didn't need it. But I was curious. And bored. And I don't like being told what to do.”

To his disappointment, Lan Xichen didn't smile at that little joke, and only grew more serious.

“And you played it exactly as he did?”

“As close to it as I can do with my skill. Do you... do think that was the wrong version of the song?”

“A whole passage is different,” Lan Xichen confirmed. “It's... Huaisang, are you well?”

Nie Huaisang shook his head. He felt like screaming, and he felt like crying.

That time he'd spied on Jin Guangyao and Nie Mingjue to hear Cleansing had been the very first time Jin Guangyao played the song alone for their brother. If Cleansing had already been altered back then, it meant...

Somehow, Nie Huaisang had convinced himself that the attempt on his brother's life had just been that one bad healing session. Nie Huaisang had been so fond of Jin Guangyao before this whole business, he hadn't wanted to imagine the other man could be cruel. Ruthless, yes, but he was a Jin after all so it was to be expected, and every sect engaged in a little murder here and there. But this hadn't just been murder. It had been torture. A healing song modified until it became painful to whoever heard it, until it drove them to madness, to no longer knowing friend from foe.

Suddenly, Nie Huaisang found himself a little more willing to believe some rumours he'd heard, about Jin Guangyao having served Wen Ruohan as the chief inventor of his torture playground. He'd always dismissed it as impossible, since Jin Guangyao was so sweet and soft spoken. But it took a certain kind of mind to do what Jin Guangyao had done to Nie Mingjue.

“I'm going to kill him,” Nie Huaisang hissed.

“I don't think da-ge would want for you to become a murderer,” Lan Xichen replied, ever practical and sensible.

He would have been right, once. Nie Mingjue wanted for his little brother to be stronger so he could protect himself, he'd never aimed to turn Nie Huaisang into a killer.

Now, though, nobody really knew what Nie Mingjue wanted, himself least of all.

“We'll see in time how to ensure those who harmed da-ge pay for what they've done,” Lan Xichen promised, leaning toward Nie Huaisang to put one hand on his shoulder. It felt comforting, more than it had any right to do. “For now, let's focus on healing da-ge,” Lan Xichen continued. “I was right to suspect you're a better musician than you said. I think you really can do this, with a little work. I'm going to leave that guqin with you so you can practice, and next time we meet I'll bring you the score for Cleansing so you may learn to play the true song. That will leave us only with the problem of how to get da-ge to listen to it but... I'm sure you'll find something. You've always been so good at getting him to do what you want.”

That was asking too much, Nie Huaisang thought. He was only himself. Even if he learned the score, his cultivation was too low, his brother's patience too thin. It would surely go very wrong, the way everything kept going wrong lately.

If it had been anyone else telling him he could save his brother, Nie Huaisang would have laughed to their face, or suspected them of manipulation. But Lan Xichen was the sort of person who would say nothing to avoid saying something he didn't believe in, or else he would quietly change the subject, or ask for another person's opinion, or...

Lan Xichen, as far as Nie Huaisang knew, just didn't lie.

Meaning he had to really think Nie Huaisang could do this. That he could master the guqin in just a few weeks, and also master a song that Lan Xichen himself has often described as particularly complex.

It was ridiculous, and Nie Huaisang was too realistic to have any faith in himself, but...

But perhaps it would be enough that Lan Xichen believed in him.

It made him want to make an effort to try, at least.

[mrsgiovanna]

Evanesce (Giorno Giovanna x Ghost!Fem! Reader)

This was quite a specific request from a nonnie mouse🥺 . This is a bit angsty, I hope I was able to do your request justice my sweet, 💖💕❤️🐞

TW: mentions of death, part 5 spoilers

Word count: 2.1k

The gentle, crisp spring breeze softly rustled the leaves of the tree overhead, dislodging a few, which fell about the handsome young man occupying the bench you had sat on daily for the past 6 months. You weren’t upset or anything like that, you were just a creature of habit and that spot provided the best vantage point of your surroundings.

“Excuse me, are you saving this seat for anyone?” The blonde boy briefly looked up at you, shook his head sharply and returned to what he was reading as you took a seat on the other side of the bench, leaving a respectable distance between the two of you. He furrowed his well-defined brows at the page he was currently perusing and finally resigned, snapping his book shut in one swift motion.

“What are you reading? Well were reading…” he scanned your face pensively before answering.

“Catch 22…”

“Ah, Joseph Heller, I’m familiar,”

“Have you read it?

“No… I haven’t got around to it,” you admit shyly.

“you should, it’s quite brilliant actually,”

“Hmm, damned if you do, damned if you don’t… it’s a metaphor for life really, if you think about it,” you knew that feeling all too well, but that was a story for another day. In the time you had spent there you had learned the young man’s name was Giorno Giovanna, and he when he wasn’t a “freelance cab driver” he went to school a few streets away. You both chatted for what felt like a few moments, but in actuality, was the rest of the afternoon. Alerted by the changing colors of the sky as the day had started turning to dusk he had excused himself to make it back to his dorm before dinner. Watching him walk away, you sat there and wondered how different things might have been had you met him earlier.

Giorno was preoccupied with his thoughts too, wondering where you had come from and why he hadn’t seen you before… he had been to that park enough times, and if you frequented it as much as you claimed to have done so, surely he would have come across you before…

“Giorno, a few of us are going to work on the science project in the rec area after dinner, do you want to join?”

“Oh, Lorenzo, thanks for the offer, but I really need to finish this report tonight, sorry,”

“No sweat, catchya later,” the sprightly boy left Giorno to his own devices pondering silently over the events of the day.

Over the next few weeks, Giorno regularly visited the spot in the hopes of running into you, which he did, and slowly you both had learned so much about each other. Favorite foods, music, books, shows… hopes and aspirations… there was never a dull moment when you were around each other, and he had somehow enabled you to find your smile again, while you were certain you had done the same for him. He grew closer to you, connecting on a different level almost… he found himself wanting to spend more time with you than he could afford to, but your company was just too intoxicating. Savoring each smile, laugh and shy sideward glance, you were altogether too lovely, and too unaware of the effect you had on him. As much as you were unaware of his growing affections, so too was he unaware of yours. Falling in love with his wry smile when he teased you over the silly anecdotes you thought up, and the way in which the wind made his lovely, golden hair dance about in the sunshine, your heart both leapt and stung, lamenting the inopportune timing at which you had encountered your possible savior, but still being thankful that you could experience something as pure as this, nonetheless.

As much as you were happy, you remained unfulfilled, having such a specific set of circumstances during which you could interact with Giorno. In the beginning it was much easier, catching him in his quieter moments, but now, those moments barely ever occurred, each time you made a move to get closer to him, your plans were thwarted by his new groups of friends… allies? Watching him rapidly traversing Italy, cheating death at every turn, despite your yearning, you hoped with everything you had that you would not encounter him in your space between the two realms. You weren’t sure what kind of force kept you bound to earth but you knew the reason was because you had yet to truly experience love before your untimely passing. You found it altogether ridiculous and unfair, so many others with regrets much more intense than your own had encountered and passed you as they were finally able to cross over, so why were you still here?

You had wanted to tell him the truth of your semi-existence on so many occasions, but his sweet smile had forced you keep up the pretense, enjoying for once, the feeling of being a teenager with a crush, whether it was something more than that, you were unable to tell. When you hadn’t seen him for a few afternoons, you decided you needed to look for him, remembering where he had gone to school, you saw him in what looked like the throes of a fight near a white haired man, and something that looked nothing like anything you’ve seen before… was it a wraith? A monster? It seemed like the two men also commanded such apparitions, appearing and disappearing, it seemed, according to their will. Suddenly, you felt like the normal one in this scenario, which was rare for you. You knew that what he was going through was bigger than the both of you, and thus began your journey with them, keeping your distance and trying to provide support from your position in the shadows. One by one, you saw his comrades fall, each time grieving with him. When everything was finally over, you resolved to approach him directly, waiting for an opportune moment in between his duties. For now, though, you frequently visited the spot that held so many happy memories for you, knowing what you needed to do.

During his eight-day mission, in his quieter moments, Giorno had found his thoughts drifting back to you. He knew that you probably were there, at the usual spot, looking for him. he wished he could tell you about what he was doing, but the stakes were too high, there was too much to lose and not enough time to work with, so he made up his mind to find you once everything was over, but for now, he was on a mission that he could not back down from. There were moments during which he could have sworn he saw your silhouette from the corner of eye, smelled the pleasant scent he had come to associate you with, but those moments could not be dwelled on with how much was left to do and the unyielding assault from Passione’s elite.

With the battle being won, and his precious allies laid to rest in the manner they deserved, Giorno’s thoughts returned to you once more. Deciding he had avoided the place enough, he went the rendezvous spot, without any of his guards. He was confident in the ability of his stand to protect him from danger, the requiem arrow safely ensconced in his breast pocket if the need arises for him to use it. Seeing you perched under the tree, you cut a forlorn figure.

“(y/n) …”

“Giorno… oh gosh! I didn’t expect to see you here today…” you were taken aback by the sight of him, looking completely different in his black suit, embodying an entirely unapproachable, otherworldly beauty, but somehow the energy he radiated still felt warm and familiar.

“You’re probably wondering where I’ve been all this time… I’ll explain everything,” he intended to take your hand in his, but you flinched, deepening the grimace on his face.

“Cara, I’m sorry, I know you must be upset with me, as you should be, but if you allow me a chance to explain, you would understand, please…”

“It’s okay Gio… I know everything… please, sit down, there’s something I have to tell you,” with confusion replacing his pained grimace, Giorno sat down and looked at you expectantly.

“I know about everything that happened to you Gio, I was right there. The reason I recoiled from your touch, or never took you up on a coffee date is because I no longer exist in this world… my physical body has already perished Giorno,”

“April fools has already passed (y/n) and Halloween is only in October… either way, it’s still a terrible joke, not funny at all,” Giorno tried in vain to conceal his irritation.

“It’s not a joke Giorno, have you ever wondered why the area becomes deserted when we’re interacting? How I can disappear and reappear in the blink of an eye? I’m already dead… I’ll prove it to you,” in an instant, you had disappeared and the people had magically appeared in the distance. With his eyes locked on those, he suddenly saw them vanish again as you appeared.

“I don’t understand… where are we then?”

“This is the dimension I exist in, half way between the two realms. My soul refuses to pass over, being bound by a regret,”

“What regret? If you’ve been with me this entire time, surely you know my ability, and of the other ghost that inhabits the turtle… there must be something we can do,”

The desperation in his voice hurt you, you knew that he meant well, but you couldn’t allow him to live like this, being bound to someone who didn’t really exist. In the time you had observed him fighting for his life and for those around him you realized that regardless of how much you both would try, nothing would materialize from these interactions, so you made the painful decision to not pursue this any further, regardless of how much it may hurt you both.

“Face it Gio, there’s no way that anything can happen here, and hanging on to this is just going to hurt the both of us…”

“Don’t say it…”

“Giorno, this is going to be the last…”

“Please, (y/n), don’t say it. I already know… it’s just like me though… the first girl I fall in love with turns out to be a ghost… yet another one of my bizarre escapades… (y/n) … you’re glowing,”

You looked down at your hands and body, seeing a warm cerise glow taking over your body, you felt odd, -weightless- as if you would float away… and then you realized what Giorno had said to you. He loved you, actually loved you, and this was your moment of ascension. After all these months, finally, you would get your repose.

“I think it’s time, you’ve given me something precious, something I can’t even begin to return. I’m finally able to rest because of you…”

“Falling in love hey? Usually a declaration like this is supposed to awaken the princess, not send her away…” he said dejectedly, knowing well enough from recent events, that a spirit cannot remain longer than intended regardless of how much you willed it to.

Reaching up to try and cup his cheek as your image grew ever fainter, “Giorno, these past few weeks have allowed me to feel things in death that I couldn’t have even imagined when I was alive. You’re the reason I can finally rest, and I’ll always be thankful to you, I know you’ll be happy and will love again, all your dreams will be realized, I love you Gio,”

With a sorrowful smile, he watched you fading away from his sight, a warm gentle breeze swirling the loosened leaves around him, and just like that you were gone. Being unable to speak after what happened, he just sat for a while to gather his thoughts before returning to his life as the don of Passione.

It has been a few years since your final encounter with Giorno just before your ascension. Over the years you still watched him, this time from your vantage point above him as opposed to lurking beside him. Your spirit was at ease as he grew from strength to strength, realizing his dream, with a resolve that only he possessed. You watched as he matured, confidence growing in leaps and bounds… as he fell in love- again- just like you promised he would. She was perfect for him, the ray of sunshine he needed to compliment his golden soul. You smiled knowingly, the young man whose pure feelings granted respite to your soul, would be just fine, and even though it may have felt as if you had faded away on that fateful day, the memories of you will always live on through him, adding gravity to your existence- ironically, his memories of the beautiful ghost who had captivated him, would serve as evidence that you had lived…

[slytherinsnekxvii]

let's talk about lily evans. she's an interesting character—or rather, the case surrounding her character is quite interesting.

i honestly don't know if i can say i dislike her. by all means, she should be a fan favourite, and she is... but for some rather intriguing reasons.

for one thing, due to the fact she's hardly expanded on in the series, certain parts of the fandom have been forced to either take the few qualities that she displays canonically and amplify them to the extreme (eg. immediate righteous anger at the slightest hint of injustice in fic) or create an entirely new personality (eg. no, i didn't actually disapprove of your pranks, it was just sexual tension). of course, the option of creating a new personality is much more tempting when you can just add amplified canon traits on the side.

for another, her relationship with james sometimes seems likes it's being weaponized against snape and his fans. i've seen arguments that go like "haha, snape just wanted to fuck lily, but james got her in the end anyway, sucks to be you", and not only does it entirely reduce her to an object, it feels like they don't even care about the relationship, the dynamics or the characters. she's basically a plot device.

and thirdly, half of her characterisation in fic is to be a peter stand-in. we don't like the rat man, so let's take the pretty girl and put her in place of the guy who was canonically a member of the marauders, even up until he was named secret keeper. suddenly, she's a prankster and an enabler.

but, snek, you may say, all of that is fanon lily, tho. you just explained that people seem to like her because they just put any personality they want into her as long as she's at least vaguely a good person. you would be right.

let's look at canon lily. she's described as the brightest witch of her age, most everyone speaks favourably of her. in fact, the only people we see actively disliking/being upset with her are petunia, out of jealousy and the invasion of privacy concerning her letter, severus, who lashed out and used a slur that also applied to him in a moment of serious distress and apologised after, and well, pureblood supremacists by virtue of her being muggleborn. interestingly enough, even this dislike manages to develop everyone's character more than it does her own.

as a teenage girl myself, let's look at her actions as a teenage girl. not necessarily in chronological order because I'm writing this at 2am and my memory is already mediocre at best.

1. she's done well enough in school to be considered trustworthy and responsible enough to be a prefect.

okay, i can respect that. a good few of the prefects at my school were really just appointed based on how much the teachers liked you, but at hogwarts, there's so few of them that they must put at least a little effort into it, so i'll move on.

2. she does not press for details when informed that her best friend's life needed to be saved by someone who has been publicly tormenting him for years

now, see, there's no reason why she needs to play therapist. it's not her job, she's just a girl, and we know that snape wasn't supposed to talk about the incident, so he would've been stuck if she had asked for an explanation. however, i also feel like she doesn't seem particularly concerned about his wellbeing, and when he brings up his concerns about lupin, rather than ask for proof, she dismisses it. which, fair enough, i would hate to listen to someone talk about the same thing over and over and over, but, i also feel like the fixation on a theory like that would be cause for concern.

3. she dismisses the actions of a group known to play tricks that harm people and have specifically been tormenting her best friend on the basis that they don't use dark magic

first, i'm going to establish what i usually assume dark magic refers to. aside from jinxes, hexes and curses, i also include anything that produces an effect similar to any of the unforgivables (takes away your life, your free will or your ability to feel safe in your own body, such as when you're in excruciating pain), and magic that would require a sacrifice of some sort.

when snape tries to point out the danger in what the marauders do, she insists that they don't use dark magic. and they don't... but they do use illegal magic. she then argues against the company that snape keeps, which, again, to be fair, is justified considering mulciber's done something to mary macdonald... it's also not a particularly realistic ask. snape probably shares a dorm with these guys, and he's a poor half-blood so he's already on the outs. as far as he knows, any dissent will be met with him getting hexed in his sleep. but, i digress.

given that the marauders have been shown to be doing extremely dangerous with little regards to anyone's safety, and actively tormenting her best friend, i disagree with her choice here. on the other hand, she's made her own friends in gryffindor and perhaps she sees a nicer side of them that we don't get to. she's justified in her actions, but i still disagree.

4. she intervenes when her best friend is hung upside down by a spell of his own invention at the wands of the people who have tormenting him for years

she does object to the marauders' treatment of him, and she does try to get them to let him down. if i were in her position, i would absolutely do the same. i respect the decision to stand up for her friend.

5. she does not seriously attempt to help him or punish the marauders

i do not respect how she handled it. at any point, she could have drawn her wand. but, snek, you say, perhaps she didn't want to get involved physically. she wanted to follow the rules. in that case, at any point, she could taken points, assigned detention, or sent someone to get a member of staff. she does none of those things and i viscerally disagree. if we were ever friends and someone tried to hurt you, i can assure you that i would try to at least see to it that they'd be punished, even if it wasn't immediate or by my own hand. lily, however, chooses to argue rather than take action.

6. she smiles when severus gets hung upside down

chances are, it was more than likely an involuntary reaction, like laughing when your friend has fallen over. however, the fact that it was intentionally written in seems like it's mean to be an indicator that the friendship was already falling apart.

7. she comments on her best friend's poverty and uses a name that's been used to make fun of him after he calls her a slur that also applies to him

she was 100% within her rights to be upset by being called a slur. it is never okay to use slurs. the only situation in which a slur could possibly ever be appropriate would be if you were an oppressed group attempting to reclaim said slur which is not at all what snape was doing here. he was experiencing cruelty, being humiliated, publicly, for no reason beyond existing and he was in distress, choking on soap and upside down. it was damaging to his pride, especially when james suggests that he needs lily to fight his battles for him (paraphrasing) which is an emasculating statement to make, especially to a teenage boy. so, snape lashes out with the most hurtful word he could think of, which happened to be a slur that also applies to him. lily was 100% justified in being upset about this, and she retaliated in kind. she was very much allowed to say what she said. i understand that she was hurt and angry and i respect that, especially as i can't guarantee that i would not have been just as upset in that situation.

8. even when the threat of sexual harassment is made, she still does nothing

i get it, at this point, she's hurt, she's mad, she wants him to suffer since she's a teenage girl and teenage girls hold grudges like it's nobody's business, but... i definitely couldn't just stand by and watch it happen. she basically just let them go through with it.

9. she does not accept her best friend's apology for calling her a slur that also applies to him, effectively burying the friendship

she is, by no means, obligated to continue being friends with him. however, if i were in that position, and the apology was sincere, i would take the friend back.

10. she goes on to date and eventually marry the guy who bullied her former best friend for his entire school life

no. i disagree. but, snek, you say, james changed. no. he didn't. we know, that at this point, james was still going after snape behind lily's back. you can say that she didn't know, but that means that she would have allowed james to lie to her and that doesn't sit right with me bc a relationship built on lies is a relationship that is going to fall apart, especially when your partner has been disappointed by your actions before. you can say that she did know, and that proves that she simply didn't take her responsibilities as head girl seriously enough to stop the head boy from harassing people when she explicitly told him not to. the point is, no. there is no way that this would have worked out as a long term relationship. james is too comfortable lying to her. i can't even say she was justified. there is no circumstance where i personally see this as okay for anybody involved.

alright, so, essentially teenage lily was justified in (most of) her actions, even if i find them questionable.

adult lily dies at 21, while saving her son, but her death also helps save the wizarding world. good job. she, as expected, did what any good mother would.

and that's canon lily.

my thoughts: she's a perfect example of why writing tips are so adamant on making sure people try to show and not tell. we were told that lily is meant to be good and pure and lovely, but the author never bothered to actually prove that, so what we're left with a dissonance between what we see and what we know.

as a result, i still don't know if i truly dislike her. her actions are justified, but they don't match with what we've been told, and we don't have any other information to go off of. at best, i can say for certain that i disagree with many of her choices, despite understanding why she would have made them (except for marrying james potter, uggghh, the only good thing to come out of that was harry and the saving of the wizarding world by extension, ig).

thanks for reading all that, btw! hope it made sense :)

[invisibleicewands]

Q&A with David Tennant and Michael Sheen

What can you tell us about the new series of Staged?

Michael: David and I are still being ridiculous with and about each other - that’s still very much the tone of it. We have a lot of amazing surprise appearances which I hope people will enjoy as much as David and I enjoyed doing the scenes with them.

David: It’s the same set up as before. Michael Sheen and I talking rubbish to each other over the internet from our respective homes, with Georgia and Anna, our other halves, keeping us from becoming too self-indulgent, not always successfully. But there is a bit of a twist to it all, which I’m not going to reveal here...

In the show you play exaggerated versions of yourselves, are you anything like these characters in real life?

David: I imagine not at all, but probably... quite a lot.

Michael: I think David would say that he's not at all like his character in the first series. Whereas I would say, I probably am quite like that. But I think between the two series, there's a slightly more representative version of ourselves emerging, or at least that's what I would say anyway.

Why do you think the first series was so popular?

Michael: We didn't take ourselves too seriously and made fun of ourselves - I think people enjoyed that. I'm using the sort of format and medium that everyone is using. Having to do calls on Zoom and all that kind of stuff - so we've been able to tap into what's funny and absurd about that as well. Also, having lovely surprises like Judi Dench and Samuel L. Jackson, we have lots more of those surprises in this new series.

David: People seemed to recognise what the characters were going through. Not the specifics of being an actor in lockdown as such, but the sense of helplessness, the frustrations and occasional joys of being stuck at home while the world trundled on. That and the fact that Simon wrote a really funny script - I mean without that we’d have been stuffed.

Did you think you’d be back for another series?

David: If you had told me a year ago that I’d end up making a series for BBC One from inside our house, without a crew, wearing my own clothes and being entirely responsible for turning the camera on and off I would have found it wholly implausible, so the idea that we would do it twice is just one of the many unpredictable eventualities that this weird, weird year has presented.

Michael: I certainly thought that if it went down quite well then there was no reason why we couldn't do more, because it was such an innovative way to make a series - filming in my kitchen with just the laptop and a smartphone. It was very nice to come back and do more of it.

What was it like working with your partners?

David: The scenes between Georgia and myself had to be fitted in around school drop-offs, baby naps and unloading the dishwasher, so there is a certain urgency to getting them done but we have really enjoyed making Staged together and we do laugh a lot - perhaps it’s the sleep deprivation.

Michael: I thoroughly enjoyed it, it was great. The difficulty for Anna and I was that one of us had to go and look after the baby, so that presented a bit of a challenge and limited how much we could do together. But the positive side of this was that it meant Anna could do more scenes with other people. So, there's more scenes between Anna and Georgia, Lucy and Simon as well. It was lovely not taking ourselves too seriously and to play around with it.

Will any of your children be making an appearance in the new series?

Michael: There’s that fantastic moment in the first series where you see David and Georgia's daughter in the background coming down the stairs and then going back up the stairs - that's very funny. I'm sure you can hear Lyra in the background of some scenes; you’ll have to be eagle-eyed and eagle-eared for that.

David: No, I think they find it slightly risible that mum and dad are making a TV show from the house and are mostly just annoyed when we tell them to be quiet for a take.

What can you tell us about working with the guest stars?

David: Well I think it’s out there that we have Ben Schwartz joining us this series, playing the assistant to Michael and my US agent. I’ve known Ben for a few years now, we both play the voices of ducks on Disney’s Duck Tales. Ben is very very funny and is a master at comic improvisation. Michael and I both had to sprint to keep up with him once he started going off script. Recording those scenes was a particular joy. But beyond that I’m saying nothing - that would spoil some nice surprises.

Michael: In the first series one of the most enjoyable things was being able to do a scene with Dame Judi and with Samuel L. Jackson. In this series we have plenty more where that came from and it was an absolute joy - a real thrill! We have some special guests this series who David and I both enjoy the work of. I hope the audience enjoy it half as much as we did and also see that it's not just us who have difficulty with the technical stuff!

Q&A with Georgia Tennant and Anna Lundberg

What can you tell us about the new series of Staged?

Georgia: We are all still in lockdown but things are starting to open up a little and everyone is trying to feel their way through their new normal. David’s hair is longer and my wine cellar (metaphorically speaking. We don't actually have a wine cellar) is emptier.

How did you come up with the idea for the new series?

Georgia: We always said we would just do one and hope people didn't hate it. Much to our amazement people really didn’t hate it and of course it's much more tempting to visit something again if the reception has been good! When we filmed the first series I think we felt like it was a small window of time where the world had shifted and before long we’d all be back to normal and Staged would end up being this nice little time capsule. Simon Evans and Phin Glynn then came up with a brilliant little seed of a premise and we all took it from there.

In the show you play exaggerated versions of yourselves, are you anything like these characters in real life?

Anna: Well we’re all slightly different from the first season. I certainly don’t bring Michael charcuterie boards like I did in the first season, hah! I think in this season I have lost most of my patience with Michael and although that isn't true in real life, it seems closer to how we would behave with each other if we were living through those exact circumstances. I'd tease him for being so serious and a bit of an arse but at the end of the day we got each other's back. I've also gotten to know Georgia and Lucy a bit more since the first season, so those scenes seemed a bit closer to real life this time. Although I don't think there's a world that exists where I'd actually offer David Tennant advice on using Viking methods with an axe to deal with a conflict.

Georgia: This series ‘Georgia’ is slightly less tired and has gotten her fight back a little. The kids are back at school and she’s trying to get everyone else back to some sort of normality. She’s even less indulgent of ‘David’.

Why do you think the show was so popular?

Georgia: I think for the first time in probably ever the whole world was doing the same thing - sitting in their homes. To be able to watch a show where the actors are doing exactly as you and much less elegantly was probably the secret to its charm. To be able to laugh during this time has also certainly saved my sanity and having a comedy escape, albeit for 15 minutes, was probably very needed.

Anna: I think a lot of people around that time were happy to see something light and a bit silly as opposed to another heavy drama about what everyone was already going through, but without ignoring what was going on at the same time.

What was it like working with your partners?

Georgia: That was the best bit for me. He is my favourite person, actor and makes me laugh like no one else. I think I may struggle working with anyone else now!

Anna: The biggest challenge of filming with Michael is figuring out what to do with the baby when we do. Once we've managed to work that out around naps it’s great! He’s very encouraging and patient with me. Serious about the work though and likes to be in charge of all the technical stuff, even though I helped him to set it up in the first place. But I let him.

Will any of your children be making an appearance in the new series?

Anna: There’s always a chance you’ll hear Lyra’s voice in the background. She likes to get in on the action and has a great ability to project and be heard like her father. But no, not in vision.

Georgia: No. I cannot tell you how little they care about what we do. We were just annoying them by asking them to keep the noise down for takes.

[lorelylantana]

A Blindsided Engagement Chapter 1: Blindsided

Next

Chapter rating: G Overall rating: G

Calamity was soundly defeated, and the Kingdom of Hyrule was at peace, but King Rhoam knew something dark was afoot. He sat at his desk, eyeing the tray of incoming documents. Of all the missives and appeals, he had the sinking feeling that today would be yet another day passed without a request for his daughter’s hand in marriage. King Rhoam had many regrets for his actions toward his daughter, and he didn’t want to rush Zelda into marriage. He couldn’t undo the years of neglect, but he could do that much.

His resolve in the matter didn’t make the lack of suitors any less disconcerting. He was baffled. Even if his daughter was homely, which she most certainly was not, the King would have received several letters from young nobles and their parents eyeing the throne before Zelda even came of age. Before Calamity’s defeat, he figured it was another facet of the extenuating circumstances that darkened those years, and had expected a cascade of offers after things settled down. After losing sleep over it, he could only think of one explanation.

A coup was brewing. One intent on wrestling Hylia’s bloodline from the throne.

The moment the thought ran through his mind Rhoam summoned the Sheikah forces, the researchers took center stage in the last decade, but the stealth units still existed. This meant that the crown still had a robust intelligence agency, which he wasted no time sending them out to sniff out the traitors and drag them out to face justice.

The Sheikah were efficient, and more importantly they were accurate, so when they returned empty handed, the King knew it was because there was nothing to find.

Still, he couldn’t help but ask, “Are you certain?”

The agent nodded, “There’s nothing but glowing praise for the royal family in the wake of Calamity’s downfall, the recent events have highlighted the need to preserve the bloodline.”

Then what was it? Why didn’t anyone want to marry his daughter?

Confused and more than a little offended, he summoned the son of a noble house that was known to be particularly opportunistic.

“You wanted to see me, your Majesty?”

The young man squirmed under the King’s stare. Rhoam shuffled some papers around to look busy before beginning his ruse.

“You know my daughter, Princess Zelda?”

The young man gulped, “Yes, sire.”

“And you know she is of marrying age.”

“Yes,”

“I’m considering Zelda’s groom to be, future of Hyrule and all that, and since you are fairly high on the list of prospects I want your thoughts on the matter,” King Rhoam said, staring at the young man as he shifted on his feet and looked down. As the silence dragged on he prompted him. “Do you want to marry my daughter?”

The young man took a breath to brace himself before looking the King in the eye, “No, Your Majesty.”

“Why not, then!” Rhoam’s voice came out louder than he’d intended, offended on his daughter’s behalf. The young man flinched at his tone. A minute ran long, silent as the man gathered himself and gave his answer.

“It wouldn’t feel right, sir,” the young man shrunk under Rhoam’s gaze, and he began to lose his thoughts, “It’s just, Sir Link saved my little brother’s life. I can’t betray him like that after he’s done so much for my family-”

“Wait,” the King held up a hand, baffled, “What does the Hylian Champion have to do with this?”

The young man stopped, his face reflecting the king’s own confusion.

“He loves her,” his voice rang with the certainty of one talking about the blue sky or the chill of winter, and yet it gave the King a pause. He leaned back.

“Come again?”

“Sir Link is in love with Princess Zelda,” the young man said.

“And he told you this?”

He shook his head, “He didn’t need to, it’s as plain as day. Everyone knows, just ask around.”

With that the young man was sent away, and King Rhoam sent the Sheikah out to gather information once more. This time, his suspicions were confirmed.

Every single noble house in Hyrule received critical aid from the Hylian Champion, and subsequently held him in high regard. That verified one half of the young man’s theory, but what of the other?

Sir Link stood still and stoic before his King, looking for all the world like the hero he was. He’d been called into the King’s office a few times, all to report on his daughter’s wellbeing, so when the King asked his question Link was taken aback.

“I’ll get straight to the point, Sir Link. Do you love my daughter?”

Link didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. The nobleman was right, it was plain as day. Written in the blush on his cheeks and the way his breath caught.

Link didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. The nobleman was right, it was plain as day. Written in the blush on his cheeks and the way his breath caught, highlighted by the slight panic in his eye.

Hylia save him, the boy wasn’t subtle at all. Quite surprising in the face of Sir Link’s reputation, but young love is a strange force indeed.

Although, now that Rhoam considered things, perhaps Sir Link’s blatant heart could help solve this issue quicker. The King wasn’t going to pass up a stress free wedding, without all the yapping of disgruntled nobles trying to match their own sons with his daughter. Yes, the king was certain that this was a very good sign indeed. His dear Zelda was the brightest of her generation, renowned for her keen eye and discerning mind. There was absolutely no way his daughter could look upon this young man and not be immediately aware of his feelings for her. This, along with how well she got along with Sir Link, could only mean that she accepted his feelings. Surely, if Link loving her was a cause for discomfort, Zelda would have sent him away. She had ample opportunity, and after her triumph Rhoam would deny her nothing.

“I- I assure you, Your Majesty, I’ve made no untoward advances. I swear on the sword I carry.”

The young man’s shaking voice snapped Rhoam out of his train of thought.

“What?” he asked before waving a dismissive and, “Of course, of course. Sit, Zelda will be here soon enough.”

Sir Link’s eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to speak before shutting it tightly. Sitting rigidly in his chair, the young man waited with bated breath while the King sent for his daughter.

She arrived only a few minutes later, never far from the library and the surrounding offices.

“You called for me, father?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. She had just finished going over her itinerary, so she didn’t know what this meeting was about. The king gestured for the second chair across his desk. And waited for her to sit down before answering.

“We are here to discuss Sir Link’s love for you,”

In his seat, Link made a choking sound, almost hyperventilating. Rhoam pitied him, but he knew that the sooner Link learned of his place in Zelda’s heart he would feel much better. Zelda on the other hand, seemed to be caught completely off guard. Her cheeks red and hands brought to her mouth as she whispered. She looked at her knight, who sat still and resolute, yet blushing all the more.

“His what?”

Well, it was understandable that she would be a tad confused, after all, it wasn’t every day that one spoke of love so bluntly.

Link was mortified, but said nothing in his defense. This was clearly his penance for having impure thoughts of his charge. He had deluded himself into thinking the dreams that haunted him were out of his control, and thus undeserving of reproach. The present situation swiftly disabused him of any such notion in short order.

Still, King Rhoam had to keep the ball rolling. There was no use wasting time.

“In light of this recent discovery, and since you are of age to be married, I thought it wise to consult you on the matter, dear Zelda.”

At the mention of her name, she turned back to her father, still a bit disoriented in the face of her revelation, “Yes?”

Rhoam spoke plainly, as he always did, “Would you like to marry Sir Link?”

Zelda was frozen. She was completely unaware how Link felt about her, but now that she was told, everything fell into place. How she found her hand in his several times a day. The softness in his eyes. She’d thought them expressions of duty, but when she looked at the flush in his cheeks as he stared at the floor she knew her father’s words were true.

Before Zelda knew it, “Yes, I would,” fell from her lips, breathless and sincere.

Link’s head snapped up, looking up at her with a furrowed brow, disbelieving.

“Yes,” she said again, and her heart leapt at the way her knight’s skepticism melted into pure joy, smiling brighter than she’d ever seen him. She found herself giggling at the expression.

“Well then, it’s settled,” the King declared with a grin, “The two of you shall be wed in a year’s time. Now go, I won’t keep you two any longer.”

The young couple raced out of the room, and Rhoam heard the two explode into conversation, no doubt eager to celebrate their upcoming union.

[champagne-bucky]

Debt to Be Paid: II

Summary: Earth fears intergalactic war with another planet. The Avengers are called to work out negotiations on Zevitar, the planet of peace. What happens when they are reunited with their long lost team member?

Warnings: dark!Bucky x reader, mentions of non/dub-con, age gap (reader is of age)

Notes: Ummm, so I’m probably gonna hide under my covers after y’all read this one 😳 I wanted things to get juicy pretty darn fast. Lmk if you liked it! Please make sure to comment, reblog, inbox, and follow me for more!! Enjoy :)

You almost didn’t believe Carol when she woke you up and told you that home was closer than you thought. Springing out of bed and rushing to the nearest window, you saw a small speck that was your home. It’s been a while since you’ve been on Zevitar, coming up on almost six years to be exact. You never could remember how you left home, but since you’ll be returning, you hope to get some answers.

After what seemed like an eternity, Carol had finally breached the planet’s atmosphere and was radioing in to alert the guards of a ship landing. You’d only hoped that everything was the same. You wondered about your family, your brother, gosh is he even still alive? Surely if he was he would've been looking for you. Right?

“What are you doing?” Carol was preparing to land the ship.

“Uh, landing, what does it look like I’m doing?” She scoffed.

“But no one gave you permission to land,” Carol shook her head and told you to fasten your seatbelt.

“They took too long to answer, we can just explain what’s up.”

You tried to tell her that your people don’t like it when rules are broken. Zevitarian’s take order very seriously. You should know, your family was very adamant on following them.

The landing was rough and you couldn’t determine if you would throw up from turbulence, nerves, or… morning sickness.

Your pregnancy became a hard to swallow pill, but eventually you had to wise up and carry on. You already thought up of an excuse if any of your family asked, but you doubt any of them were even still on Zevitar. Hell, you don’t even know who rules the planet now.

Carol opened the entrance hatch and looked back at you. It was obvious that you were scared. You were going to be alone on a planet whose people might not remember you, and pregnant with the baby of your tormentor. It was going to be a hard adjustment, but it was better than being locked in a jail cell knowing he is still roaming around free.

You tried not to think of him, but every time you closed your eyes he was always behind your lids. That man took so much from you in such a short amount of time. You could never figure out why he went through all this trouble and frankly, you were trying to put your past behind.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a series of screams and bangs against the ship's door.

“OPEN UP BY ORDER OF THE KING. YOU ARE TRESPASSING ON OUR LAND.”

You gasped as Carol rolled her eyes. Nothing could scare this force of nature. She marched right up to the hatch and opened it. Carol didn’t even blink when the guards raised their weapons to her face.

“You were not authorized clearance to Zevitar. We ask you to leave or be taken to the King for punishment,” the one guard said. Gosh, he looked so much older than you last remembered…

“I’m only here to drop off a package, then I’ll be on my way,” the guards looked confused.

“A package? The King is not expecting anything. Let us see this “package””, the guard forced his way through the ship.

You gulped as you heard the guards get closer to you. You prayed they remembered you and you prayed that whoever their new king was would let you stay.

Once the guard came face to face with you he paused. You thought he was just confused about not seeing a physical package, but another being instead. Then, he dropped his weaponry and knelt, the other guards followed suit while Carol stood baffled.

“The Princess has returned.”

__

You never expected to be welcomed back this way. You were almost certain that your family had perished, but it seems as if one survived, your brother, the King of Zevitar.

When the guards were done their kneeling and praising, they were quick to drag you and Carol out of the ship and straight towards your brother. Apparently, word still travels fast around home, and pretty soon a small swarm of civilians were recognizing their long lost princess.

“Sister,” your brother stood from his magnificent throne, the one your father used to sit upon.

“Sister, oh sweet sister is that really you?” your brother dropped to his knees in praise.

“My brother, I thought I had lost you. I thought I had lost all of you,” you began to tear up. You had family still alive, you won’t be totally alone.

“Sweet sister, we thought you had perished. I weeped your death for days, and now here you are standing in front of me,” your brother looked at Carol and began to thank her profusely for bringing you home safely.

“We must gather the kingdom and alert them of the news. Ansel! Call the ladies in and have them prepare my sister’s room. Oh and…” your brother led the guards and servants out of the room as you turned to Carol.

“So when were you gonna tell me about all this princess stuff,” she quirked her brow in amusement.  

“I didn’t see a point in telling anyone back on earth. I figured since no one was coming to rescue me what was the point in going back. I never even knew if my family was still alive, let alone if Zevitar still existed,” you responded.

It was true, what was the point in starting commotion on earth if there was no home to go back to. You assumed that everyone and everything must’ve perished in the war years back. However, now seeing that the planet and your people are fine, why didn’t anyone come looking for you?

“Sister! Dear, sister,” your brother entered the room with the royal ladies of the court, “I’ve made arrangements for your room to be cleaned, your ladies will take you to be freshened up. Afterwards, I would like to have a word with you.”

You looked at Carol as the ladies began to surround you. You didn’t have time to wish her a proper goodbye and she knew that.

“Thank you, Carol. I’m going to miss you,” she pulled you in for a quick hug.

“You too, m’lady,” she winked.

“Carol, please don’t tell them anything about here, about home. Don’t mention this to anyone, not even Wanda or Natasha,” she nodded in agreement and gave you a last goodbye before she left.

You stupidly forgot about your ladies and the strange looks they exchange at your final words. Gossip was their native language and you were sure one of them would slip those exchanges of words to your brother.

__

“My dear sister,” you brother greeted you as you walked into the dining hall. It was only you, him, and a long table in between.

You were dressed in expensive fabrics and your body was draped with the finest jewels, the proper attire fit for a princess. The ladies had been kind to you, but you didn’t miss the whispers of gossip in your native language. You didn’t speak up though, because you wanted to hear what they were saying.

They definitely heard the words exchanged between you and Carol, and you won’t be surprised if your brother relayed the message.

“Take a seat, we have much to discuss,” a servant helped push your chair in while a lady served you a plate and pour the wine, which you took note to try and avoid.

“Sister, it is a blessing that I get to see you again,” your brother smiled and took a sip of his wine. Usually, you would return the gesture, so you held the chalice to your lips, but did not drink.

“I feel the same way, brother. I thought I had lost all of you for good,” you knew your parents didn’t make it. They were the first to be targeted when war struck.

“Where have you been all this time?” and there it was, the question that would lead you to a spiral of lies.

“Earth. I don’t know why or how I got there. All I remember was waking up being surrounded by a bunch of people.”

“The people who brought you home?” He questioned.

“Yes, they took care of me when I was lost and alone. I am forever grateful for them,” and you meant that. Even after all the trauma you had been put through, you will forever be in the Avengers debt for how they helped you.

“Sister, if you are so grateful for them then why do you not want them to know you are here?”

And there it was!

You gulped as you carefully thought of the response to his question. If you told him the real truth you weren’t sure how he’d react. Your brother had always had your back, he would hurt anyone or anything that hurt you. While you wouldn't mind him reining down hell on the man who doesn’t deserve to walk free, you decided it would be better to forget the past and never return to your old life on earth.

“I couldn’t remember anything when I got to earth. You, mother, father, Zevitar, I couldn't even remember how I got there. One day, they finally found out about Zevitar and I took the chance to come back here. I didn’t think you would still be alive, brother. I took a chance to come back here, not knowing the circumstances of the planet.”

Your brother pondered for a bit. He raised his glass to his lips and you did the same, you couldn’t risk suspicion.

“Why did mother and father send me to earth, brother?” You figured now was a good time to ask.

“Sister, I’ll have to admit, a mistake was made which made us to believe you were dead,” you were confused. They thought you had died?

“When the war broke out, mother and father decided that I would stay back and fight and you would leave for a new planet. I promised them I would bring you home after the war, but we thought a tragedy had occurred.”

“What tragedy?”

You started to remember that day. The tensions of war had been increasing and soldiers were losing the battle. You knew that the opposing side wanted your family’s heads, so they devised a plan that could save you.

You were next in line to take the throne. Your parents needed you to be as far away from the planet as possible, so no one would find you and want to kill you. What you didn’t know was that your parents made your brother fight in the war. You guessed that he was forced to fight due to the loss of many soldiers.

“Mother and father had made a deal with Odin of Asgard. You were supposed to live out your days there until war was over. From what Odin had told us, Loki was behind your disappearance. He saw you as a threat and sent you away. The clever god made it seem like an accident had occured. Who would’ve thought you were alive all this time,” you were slowly nodding as you lifted your cup up to your lips, you had to make it look good, you didn’t need your brother finding out.

All this time, someone could’ve been looking for you, but because of a selfish god’s actions you ended up in a predicament that could’ve been avoided. Anger stewed in you, but you had to keep it at bay.

Your brother started to chuckle as you lifted your lips to the cup again. You gave him a weird look as you tried to keep your cool. There was no way that he knew what you were doing right?

“Tell me, sister. Why is it that you lift your lips to the cup, but do not drink the wine? Earth hadn’t dulled your taste buds has it?” Wrong…

He continued to laugh at your antics, but you stayed still. What’s the point in hiding it anyways? It’s not like in a few months a protruding stomach will give you away.

“Sister, sister are you alright?” You brother was out of his chair and by your side in an instant.

“Brother, I must tell you something,” tears started to fall from your eyes. You weren’t sure how your brother would react to the news.

“Sister, you can tell me anything. I promise you.”

“Brother, I’m pregnant,” you hid your hands in your face as you felt your brother still beside you. You knew what his next question would be.

“Where is the father?”

“He died in battle. He was a soldier on earth, he protected and served everyone,” you had to think quick. You knew the rules here, and since you were a royal you had to abide by them. At least you knew there was no chance of the father and your brother ever meeting, so you could get away with it.

“Oh sister, sister if I could only take away the pain,” your brother held you close. He understood now your urgency to not let your earth friends know the real reason you left.

You were pregnant with no husband to help you. The rules on earth and Zevitar must be the same when it comes to single mothers, a taboo. He knew that he must protect you now more than ever with your child on the way.

“It’s okay we will get through this together,” he shushed you into a calm state.

__

*9 months later*

Steve could taste the mix of cooper and soot on his tongue. He’d been fighting off Hydra agents for hours now and finally finished off the last one. It’s been months since he’s been at the compound, Steve’s been spending all his time looking for you.

He figured sitting around at home wasn’t going to bring you back, so he needed to go looking for you himself. He actually convinced the whole team at one point too.

While they got breaks in between missions, Steve was nonstop. He never took a moment to himself and never stopped fighting. The others gave up four months into his escapade. With no leads and fleeting hope, the rest of the Avengers had accepted you were gone and had no plans on returning.

Steve’s phone rang, he declined.

It rang again and again and again.

Each time he declined, Tony would keep on calling back. The man was persistent in getting the Captain home.

By what seemed like the ten thousandth call, Steve picked up.

“Tony, give it up, I can’t come home, not yet.”

“Rogers, as much as we appreciate you knocking off the Hydra lackeys so fast, your time is up,” Tony was annoyed and tired and fighting with Steve.

“Tony no-.”

“LISTEN, you have been gone for nine months, five months dark without team supervision, you need to get back, something’s come up.”

“Something,” Steve was intrigued, had they gotten a lead?

“It’s something that requires yours and all of the Avengers prominent attention. Now, you either turn the jet around or I’ll have to do it myself.”

“I’ll be on my way,” Steve sighed as he punched in the coordinates for back home.

__

Steve could sense General Ross’ fear before he even spoke. The man had been pacing back in force since he came to the compound. He didn’t stop until Tony told him to just spill his guts already.

“Ladies, Gentlemen, we are at war,” Steve sat up now feeling the same fear as the general.

“War? How is that even possible? There’s been no coverage-,” Ross cut off Tony.

“Not war on earth. We are going to war with another planet,” Ross ran the palm of his hand down his face.

The team started arguing with the general. They wondered just how an intergalactic war could even break out!

“Is there any way we can change their minds? Come up with a peace treaty of some sort?” Steve suggested.

“That’s why I’m here. We made plans to negotiate with their general about putting a stop to this before it can even start.”

“There’s a catch isn’t there. There’s always a catch with you,” Tony pointed out.

Ross huffed, “The general does not trust meeting on our planet, nor do we want to go to his. The general has stated they reached out to another planet willing to host both parties until we can work out a peace treaty.”

“And…” Tony baited.

“And, I would like some members of the Avengers to go and represent earth. You are the most trusted figures on this planet, maybe it can put them at ease,” Tony looked at Steve for confirmation, Steve nodded his head in agreement.

“We’ll go. Tony and I will work out who is coming and who is staying to hold down the compound. When do we leave?” Steve asked.

“In about three days. I want your team to be prepared for any type of back up. Bring your strongest just in case,” Steve hummed in agreement.

“And where will we be heading?”

“It’s a small planet, one that had just recovered from their own war a few years ago. They call their planet a planet of peace. Goes by the name Zevitar,” Ross handed Tony some files about the planet and what their mission would entail.

___ *Back on Zevitar*

Who knew that after all the pain you’ve felt in your life, childbirth would be the worst kind. After hours upon hours of excruciating labor, your baby was here.

The last few months haven't been easy. Your people would give you dirty looks when they thought you didn’t see them. They theorized the baby’s father was still alive and coming home was an excuse to be rid of him. Luckily, your brother had been extra protective over you. He even stayed by your side as your bundle of joy was born.

“Do we have a name,” your brother looked down at the sweet angel.

“Yes, would you like to announce it to the people,” your brother smiled as he approached the balcony where the loyal subjects were gathered.

“Ladies and Gentlemen of Zevitar…” silence filled the air, “the Princess has given birth to a Prince,” you heard the crowd go wild from your bed.

The whole crowd began to chant.

“LONG LIVE PRINCE ASHER OF ZEVITAR!”

___

*Meanwhile*

Carol kept quiet during the whole journey. Out of all the planets in the world, it just had to be your home planet. She only wished she would have warned you about who was coming.

“Preparing for landing,” she glanced back at the small team of Avengers.

Steve got up from his seat and began to brief the team.

“We need to be on our toes this entire mission. No slip ups, no mistakes. If anything goes wrong we could be putting this planet, and ours, at risk,” Steve began to lecture.

Carol landed in a secure spot where a group of guards were getting ready to approach the ship. She opened the doors as the team got up

“Tony, Carol, Sam, Bucky,” let’s go save our home.

[kakashiswilloffire]

Friend Killer Kakashi

ao3

words: 2.2k

warnings: angst, mention of gore, mention of vomit, no comfort

He was ready to crawl out of his own skin. His whole body flushed with waves of heat, prickling uncomfortably in his chest, like thousands of pins jabbing both inside and outside of himself. He stopped, gripping the counter to hold himself steady while he dragged shallow breaths into his lungs. He knew he needed to take a deep breath, he was telling himself to take a deep fucking breath, even just one, why can’t he just even breathe correctly, how the fuck was he supposed—

The sound of his fist interrupted him before he’d even realized he had struck out. Knowing it would be several minutes before the pain really set in, he smacked his hand against the counter again and shook his head viciously. Silver strands, oilier than he usually let them get, stung as they met skin while the weight of his hair shifted.

He sucked air thickly into his nostrils then pawed at his nose, grimacing at the spices that overwhelmed the air around him. He tossed the pan into the sink, not caring that it still sizzled or that the oil splashed onto the cold tiles beneath him. He was trying to make pan fried eggplant to go with the premade miso soup he’d picked up last week. It had been a shitty week and he just wanted to make his favorite meal to make everything hurt a little bit less. There was no way it’d be as good as what Gai made, or whatever Dai had done when he first made it for him, but Kakashi figured it would do, and since it would be the first thing he had cooked himself all week, there should be some sense of achievement and dopamine to relish in when it was done. Unfortunately, it had gone terribly.

He couldn’t remember exactly what spices went on the eggplant. Salt, pepper, minced garlic, and then Gai would riff from there. Kakashi hated that—he was fine as long as he could follow a recipe. Gai, however, could just pour a splash of soy, or a squeeze of lemon, or even a drizzle of honey on anything and it was phenomenal, and also, unrepeatable. He could remember what the version he wanted tonight should taste like, and it didn’t matter what bottles he shook out into the pan, it never smelled right. The oil just kept popping onto his arms and hands, and the eggplant got slimier, and everything started to smell way too strong.

Kakashi Hatake, master of a thousand jutsu, and fucking garbage at cooking.

Whatever.

Running his hand along his forehead, he tried to find a single thought to focus on rather than the swirling mess in his head. Rin’s death a few months ago had hit him hard, much like he had hit her. He knew Gai hated to hear him think like that, but she would be alive if he hadn’t been there. If his hand hadn’t crushed through her chest, her ribs scraping along—

He lurched forward, the smell of the kitchen and the visceral memories getting to him at last. His shoulders jerked erratically as he retched into the tiny sink then sunk to his knees. The cold of the floor helped ground him while he wrapped his muscled arms around his stomach, leaning his head against the cabinet until the room stopped spinning.

Pathetic.

Obito would be absolutely pissed to know this was what he died for.

Gai wouldn’t be back from his mission for at least four more days. Kakashi was on a temporary leave pending the results of the investigation into Rin’s death. Ibiki had tried to reassure him the other day that unofficially it was looking good, and should turn out in his favor soon. He was almost certain to be found not at fault. Kakashi had scoffed—even if that was the official ruling, her murder was entirely his fault.

While they weren’t living together, Gai had taken it upon himself years ago to have a spare key, or maybe several spare keys, to his apartment copied and he kept one in a pocket in that garish green spandex at all times. With everything going on, Gai had been by every other day or so that he was in the village. The couch still had a crumpled blanket at one end he had used the last time he stayed overnight, and the one throw pillow with the Hatake crest that Gai wouldn’t let him get rid of. He tossed it out of his way as he flopped down on his back, letting his legs kick up and rest over the top of the dingy couch.

Why did anyone bother with him? Why would Ibiki go to the effort of leaking confidential information about his investigation to him? Why would Asuma invite him out for drinks every Friday night? Why would Kurenai and Genma leave bottles of sake in his mailbox with notes that everything would be fine? Why would Gai.. anything relating to him?

He couldn’t even hold the memories back long enough to successfully make dinner. He hadn’t even reheated the miso soup, and that was only two steps. He couldn’t save Obito, he couldn’t save Rin, he couldn’t convince Gai to leave well enough alone.

What if Gai was next?

Fuck.

He couldn’t let Gai be next. There were a lot of things he had failed at, but damned if he wouldn’t succeed in this. He could not, under any circumstances, let Gai any closer, any further into his life. The further away he could get the overly-enthusiastic shinobi, the better.

He nodded, swinging his legs around to the edge of the couch and letting that propel him into a seated position from which he sprang up. He walked over to the tiny end table and wrenched open the single overstuffed drawer, digging through for a pad of paper and the first writing instrument he could find, a blue pen with the academy’s logo printed on it.

Gai—

I don’t know how to tell you this, but you have to stay away from me. It’s for your own good. No one close to me is safe, even from me.

Sorry. Please understand.

—Kakashi

He read over the messily scrawled note, then tore the sheet off the pad and crumbled it in a fist. There’s no way Gai could read that and not have about a billion questions. Especially with how they had relied on each other through the years, from Dai’s death to Rin’s, this wouldn’t be remotely good enough to get Gai to stay away.

He sat down on the couch again, tapping the pen absentmindedly against the faded lined paper. What do you say to someone to convince them to be done with you completely?

When the key scraped into the lock, he froze.

The door swung wide open, Gai slumping into the apartment. His jumpsuit was nicked and torn and his hair didn’t have its usual luster. He was clearly exhausted, though not chakra exhausted. Kakashi felt the familiar pangs of panic begin to hit—how was he back so soon?

“Hey, ‘Kashi. The client blew the mission terms totally out of proportion—he made it seem like it’d be almost an A rank, and instead it was like a grueling C rank. We’re still not sure if the pay will be adjusted accordingly, but Ebisu is arguing it shouldn’t be because we did still run into trouble—Stone ninja near the border tried to take Chouza out. Recognized him somehow, but no worries, Konoha’s magnificent Green Beast was on the scene and we handled them without any major issues.” He grinned and flexed, posing for a moment before relaxing now that he had reached his destination and sliding his vest off and onto the hook by the door.

“How have you been? You eaten yet? Yakiniku is running a special according to Chouza—he asked me to join him for a post-mission meal and I told him I’d have to swing by here and see if you wanted to tag along. You like their short rib, right? Or are you still on the vegetarian kick?”

It never failed to impress Kakashi how Gai could fill a space, whether it be with his words, his personality, or his posing. No matter how he did it, though, it always was genuine and warm, and it was nearly impossible to maintain the solemn composure he frequently fronted. They made a nice contrast as a pair. Shame they would never have the chance to explore the friendship further.

He looked down at the crumpled paper on the ground and kicked it under the couch, setting the pad and pen aside. Unfortunately, he was going to have to explain in person.

He walked past Gai without making eye contact, the other man stepping out of his way without resistance. He lifted the vest off the hook next to his own vest, brought it briefly to his own chest, and immediately regretted it when the scent of his rival slammed into him. Once again, he shook his head vigorously, then shoved the vest back at Gai.

“Get out.”

He laughed, taking the vest back and slipping it on without understanding. “Want yours as well?” he asked, reaching for the door.

Kakashi felt flushed again, realizing that Gai meant for them to get dinner together. He walked back into the small living room, keeping his back to the door.

“Don’t need it. Get out.”

Gai’s laugh died in his chest, questions rising to the surface. “I… You okay? Did something happen while I was gone? Your investigation results? I told Ibiki to send word if they made the announcement, that asshole—”

“No, Gai. Nothing happened. I just…” Kakashi swallowed and felt his heart frost over. “Just did some thinking. Realized I’m better off without you.”

He scoffed. “Very funny, Kakashi. Come on, grab a jacket or something, Chouza said he’d wait on me to get back.”

“I mean it, Gai. You’re holding me back. The stupid challenges, do you think I actually care? I’ve always been stronger than you, and now that I’ve got the Sharingan, it’s comical, competing against you. I can see all your moves from miles away. You broadcast like a bull. You’re loud, annoying, and a useless ninja. I want you out of my life.”

There was silence for more than a full minute. It might have been as long as the two of them had gone without speaking, ever. Then Gai crossed to Kakashi in two steps, grabbing his left shoulder and spinning him around to face him.

“I know you’re not saying all that ‘cause you mean it, Kakashi. Look me in the eyes and think about this.”

Kakashi steeled himself, making full eye contact with the single grey eye. “Why don’t you think about it, Gai? Honestly? What kind of a ninja can’t even use ninjutsu? Everyone’s just humoring you and letting you make a fool of yourself. You’re a walking lesson in how to not be a shinobi.”

Gai blinked hard, his eyes beginning to shimmer. He cocked his head to the side, his grip on his rival’s shoulder only strengthening.

“’Kashi, I know things are hard for you. I know your brain lies to you sometimes. It’s okay. Listen, we’ll stay here tonight, I’ll cook, we can watch a movie or something, I’ll keep watch so you can sleep and we’ll talk more in the morning. There’s no pressure. I care about you, Kakashi. Let me help you.”

His eyes were swimming now, the passion making tears roll slowly down his face. The silver-haired man refused to move or answer. Swallowing, he made one last effort to persuade him. “Kakashi… please. Don’t do this. I love you.”

Kakashi’s heart, freeze dried, now shattered, crumbling into a powder and blowing away on a light breeze. Of course Gai loved him, and he loved Gai, but could Gai really mean that he… could he love him the way?—

Impossible.

No. Of course not. And even if he did, that just put him in all the more danger.

His resolve strengthened, he scowled back. “Fuck off, Gai. A ninja that only uses taijutsu is useless in battle. Don’t you remember how your dad died? Couldn’t save himself, could barely save you. What did you even do to try and help him?”

He was grateful for the fist that slammed into his jaw, shutting him up and knocking him into the wall.

“Fuck off, Hatake.”

He only dimly registered the door slamming, and possibly coming off its’ hinges. After a beat, a glint of silver flew through the air and lodged into the wall directly opposite the door. Slowly, he gathered himself up and limped over to it, realizing with a sharp ache that it was the key to his apartment. Turning to the mirror propped near the door, he stared down the version of him with grey circles under his eyes, thumbing at the blood growing at the corner of his mouth.

Friend-Killer Kakashi was starting to sound more like him by the moment.

[transbuckaroo]

pain, applause

hello. my name is andrew, and i wrote a short lambden fic a few days ago. this will be based on the “following the thread” quest from “the witcher 3: wild hunt” developed by cd projekt red. the characters are based on dev patel as sir gawain in the 2021 film “the green knight” as directed by david lowery, and paul bullion in the upcoming 2021 seaon 2 of “the witcher” as directed by stephen surjik. i haven’t written very much these past two or three years, but i am proud of this finished product. please keep any comments/criticisms kind. thank you, enjoy!

_________

The moment Aiden realized how well and truly fucked him and Baby Steadfast were, he was already surrounded on all sides. He could sense them. His medallion hummed gently against his chest with the signal of danger with every step he took. If he could get out of this clearing, he thought, just into the tree line to stay hidden. It wasn’t far; he could make it, just keep going. The Cat kept his hand at the ready to make quick work of grabbing his battle axe and kept his breaths even as he walked. Aiden knew what was waiting for him. It seemed the fox did as well. Always intuitive, the little one.

Jad Karadin came out of the trees in front of him like a shadow from an alley, looming and dagger drawn in his right hand. Aiden slowed his pace, too exposed, ears picking up the slide of multiple steel swords off to the left. Then two figures emerged from behind Jad, appearing as if they had come directly from within his body. Lund first, after came Hammond. Baby laid back his ears flat, centering himself lower to the ground in a defensive position. He placed himself between the three and Aiden as he went.

There was no running from them. These people were never meant to be his enemies; Jad was supposed to be his brother especially. If anyone here was supposed to be on his side more than anyone, it was Jad. An elder Cat, someone Aiden was supposed to be able to look up to as a mentor. Jad had broken the mold. Had children, a wife, a life away from being a Witcher. Beyond it. He had proof that there was more.

These things didn’t matter anymore. Whoever Jad Karadin was supposed to be was pointless now. Because he was an evil man today. He and whoever else followed him here.

Aiden drew his axe, pulling a deep and centering breath as he went. There were more of this group, hiding somewhere in the thick of trees, awaiting their moment. This was only to end one of two ways. There would be no other option besides these. For a split second, Aiden found himself missing the presence of a certain Wolf over his right shoulder.

Lambert. Lambert wouldn’t let him get hurt. He would protect Aiden here and now, and the Cat wouldn’t have to worry about a thing. In fact, Lambert would have already drawn his sword and made a calculated advancement on their enemy. He would have won, too, because Aiden has never seen him fail a task when he gets that crease between his brows as they furrow in his determination. Lambert, with his fiery curls and attitude to match. Lambert, with his impossible wit and unrelenting promises made to Aiden that have never broken. Lambert, the little brother of Kaer Morhen, baby of the lot of them.

Lambert, who Aiden swore to see back in the valley in Kaedwen where the Buina and Gwenllech rivers part in Daevon so them and Baby Steadfast could finally make the trek up to Kaer Morhen together.

The heat in between Aiden’s shoulder blades told him he wasn’t going to make it up to the keep this year.

“Aiden,” Jad spoke, knuckles white around the hilt of his dagger. Aiden snapped back into focus. He didn’t even dare to blink. “You know why I’ve come?”

“I didn’t kill the Duke’s daughter. I couldn’t save her. I tried.” The contract Aiden had held just months ago in the start of spring. A young girl, cursed, incurable despite the Duke’s pleads and Aiden’s best attempts to reverse it. She had succumbed to her circumstances. Aiden was paid for his efforts, bowed his head with sorrow as the Duke grieved, and went on his way.

“I’ve come to hear otherwise. You’ve botched it, boy. People are angry with the results of your work and lack thereof. You fucked up, and you’ve not shite to say for it.”

“I didn’t botch anything, I did my job. Not everyone gets a happy ending, Karadin. You’re a Cat. A Witcher. You should know.”

To be completely honest, Aiden hadn’t a goddamnable clue how he was going to get through this. Maybe he could take them. Most rivals don’t tend to waste time talking through events, let alone listen to their target. This time, maybe this time, Aiden could walk away with a mere banishment from the city. Possibly, hopefully, he could meet Lambert in time in the valley.

“You’re right,” said Jad, some semblance of resignation on his face. It wasn’t real, his tone sounded fabricated. “Aiden. Not everyone gets a happy ending.”

The arrow came right in that moment, whizzing through the air and lodging itself into the ground by Aiden’s left foot. He startled, stepped back, whipping his head around to try and follow its trajectory. Someone was up high. Someone was in the trees. Jad brought a sniper with him. Of course he did. Oh, of course that motherfucker did. This horrid, abomination of a man. The tree line was too dense, impossible to know where in the leaves the arrow came from where Aiden was standing in the field. He had only tried to look for a moment though before the sound of running footsteps came too close for comfort. And fuck, he could only gain so much momentum with his axe from this angle but he had to try.

Aiden spun back around on his heel, hands braced on either end of the hilt of his axe, prioritizing blocking the blow and creating distance before landing a strike of his own. Jad was successfully pushed back at the chest. Sent fumbling backwards to regain his footing. He growled in anger at the same time Aiden swung at his accompanying attackers, just barely missing them with the blade of his weapon. Steel struck and sounded a metal clang through the clearing. Aiden grunted with the effort of three-and-a-sniper against one, swinging his axe to catch a sword under the head and vaulting his enemy away. Distance was vital, energy was crucial to use sparingly.

“Baby!” He shouted towards his fox, whom of which was bee-lining for the trees where the arrow had come. “No! Run home! Home! Go home!”

It was something they’d agreed upon once. Home. They knew what home was, who home was. Where home was. The valley. Lambert. The point they meet and part at every year, the small town the Wolves have passed through many times in prior years. It was an easy place to go. That was where they found home, him and Baby. Lambert was home. Baby Steadfast knew this command well and clear as day. Go home. Go find Lambert; he’ll know what it means for the fox to show up without the company of his Cat Witcher. He’ll spring into action.

All it took was one incorrect turn, expose just a little too much of something or other, at just the right moment. It wasn’t because he’d called out to Baby; he knew how to give direction without faltering in his task. It was fucked luck. Terrible, awful, shit luck. All he did was avoid another two arrows in the ground, one grazing his cloak as it went.

Jad caught him in his right side with his dagger, blade plunging in deep and ripping a pained and surprised shout from Aiden’s throat. All the way in and right back out. Aiden staggered, snarled, and lunged at the man in front of him. Jad was a monster on this day, and Witchers know damn well to dispose of those. His side was on fire. The younger Cat swung, but Jad ducked underneath the blade. As Aiden turned with the momentum, one of the others kicked a boot into his chest and sent him backwards into Karadin’s grasp. The dagger entered the same area as before as Jad grappled an arm around Aiden’s throat. He was stuck. He was bleeding horribly. Baby Steadfast had gone to get Lambert. There was no way they would find one another in time.

With a strong shove from the man behind him, the dagger dislodged, and in the same moment whoever was at his left ripped his axe out of his hands. Aiden tried to spin around to face them as he propelled forward, but only managed to end up on his back on the grass. It was still cold with morning dew. Aiden could see the fog of his breath as he fell.

And in the most startling of realizations as Jad came to kneel over him, Aiden realized he was going to die. Without Baby. Without his dignity. Without Lambert. Without telling Lambert how much he truly and purely loved him.

He thought he had more time. Had it all planned out. They would meet in three weeks hence, and the night before they would make the ascent to the keep for the winter, Aiden would tell Lambert that he loved him in their room. This incredible, selfless, beautiful Wolf. Part of him even believed Lambert might say it back. He would feel the same. They were just like comfortable lovers already, what with the way they shared beds and blankets and curled up in the night to sleep, the way they helped wash and put up one another’s hair, cooked for each other, looked out for each other, lost all sense of personal space with each other. Melitele, the two of them even refused to separate their bedrolls while they camped out during their travels. They called each other “pup” and “kitten” respectively, dressed wounds, mended clothes and armor, cleaned weapons, hunted together, laughed and smiled and hugged and shared stories. Oh, Lambert was beautiful. Of course Aiden was in love with him. To expect anything else were a fool’s game.

“Oh, kitty cat,” he heard from above, and focused his eyes on Jad. The coldness of his gaze, so detached and unaffected. The only indication he’d ever been in a fight at all was the way his chest pulled bigger breaths than before. “Don’t go and cry now, will ye? This is just the natural order of things.”

Oh, Gods above, Aiden was crying. Silent little tears slipping free from the corners of his eyes, sliding down into his hair that lay fanned out in the grass below. Without dignity indeed. Wounds screaming in white-hot pain, vision blurring with tears that he could not control, heart aching, voice beyond him.

“Please,” the younger Cat spoke in a soft, quivering voice. He blinked hard once, twice, willing the tears away. They did not relent.

“Please.” He was being mocked. Then someone spat from out of his sight right into his hair. It smelled of salmon and tobacco. This time Jad’s dagger entered slowly, and new hot tears fell from Aiden’s eyes with the hurt of it, hand coming to grab his wrist in a feeble attempt to stop him. It did nothing. If anything it encouraged the man.

Aiden couldn’t grant him the final victory of looking away from Karadin’s eyes. Even as the blade ripped out of his body once more. Karadin spoke again. “You beg me to spare your life. Your pathetic little life. Insignificant, worthless, liar’s life. You were never going to change; your batch was doomed from the start. Your death is hardly any repayment, but it is the best we can do to provide peace and closure for the Duke and his people. A life for a life. It is but the way of the world, Aiden. Certainly you understand.”

Oh, he understood. A life for a life was the most polite way to speak of revenge. Talk of debts and dues, exchanges of wins and losses. A life for a life meant a day of reckoning to come. Lambert, kind as Aiden ever saw him, would cash this in as quickly and mercilessly as he could. He was coming no matter what. If he was unable to save Aiden now, he as sure as all things was going to tear apart whoever hurt him. What a gorgeous soul he was.

The fourth and final stab, a telling sign of Karadin’s assassinations. Aiden couldn’t fight it this time. A cluster of wounds just under the right side of someone’s ribs, always in four, always fatal. Aiden choked out a cry of searing agony, feeling the blade twist inside of him with force, squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his jaw so tightly he should have broken a few teeth. It twisted again as it was taken out, and all Aiden could do was let the fat tears roll as it happened. He felt Jad grab his medallion from under his shirt and opened his eyes as it was ripped off his neck and placed into a pouch at Karadin’s hip. Proof of death. The easiest form of it, but still worth enough to get paid. Hired by anyone associated closely with a Duke, Jad was sure to be rewarded handsomely for his work.

“Now,” spoke Jad. Aiden’s eyes were starting to get heavy, chest heaving, vision spotting behind the blur of tears. “You’ll be gone in moments, boy. A few minutes and this will be over. The pain will dull just prior, don’t fret. I will not seek out your fox nor that Wolf you travel with, but should they come I will be ready. Goodnight, Aiden. Sleep well.”

Then Jad started to walk away. Hammond and Lund went with him. Aiden could only lay there in the grass, sending his apologies to Baby and Lambert skyward and hope they would understand. He never meant for this to happen. If there hadn’t been that damned sniper, then maybe he could have taken them. But there was no time to dwell now. Darkness crept in, and Aiden’s breathing slowed, and it went dark once and for all as he bled out. He had failed. He was sorry. He could only imagine how horrifically pathetic he appeared. Perhaps he could be forgiven in time by his fox and his Wolf for never coming home.

In some months, when the snow lay thick on the ground, white and untouched blanketing where grass once resided, there would be the choking gasp of a man within the Brokilon Forest. Waking from a healing sleep induced by an old magic, cast by resident Dryads within the cover of trees that towered above. Known by many as the forest of death, breathing life back into someone who simply had not been due to die.

“Sir Witcher Aiden,” said a calming voice, a person standing kindly to the side. Her palm lay gently at the crown of his head, soothing. “We welcome you back to the living world. It has been some time.”

[mimiwrites2000]

I Don't Want to Let You Go

AO3 ~~

Pairings: Armin x Annie

Words count: 4314

* spoilers for chapter 131

Summary:

The rumbling started, titans were stomping people to death all around the world.

The world was ending,

But they were on a sailing ship, trying to save whatever they could reach, they were on the desperate mission of stopping Eren.

But Armin found himself tangled in Annie's embrace, inhaling her scent, feeling her warmth.

Chapter 131 one-shot.

“Why did you bother talking to a rock that couldn’t so much as grunt a response back to you?” Annie said, as Armin sat next to her, leaning against the railing of the ship, heading to the unknown.

“Huh?” Armin was caught off guard; it didn’t occur on his mind that Annie would talk about this…

“There… must have been more fun and cheerful girls out there, right?...” Insignificance laced Annie’s tone, but to be fair, this was her usual speaking tone.

“That’s…” Armin’s cheeks heated up, “No…” he tilted his head down, thoughts were buzzing inside his head, he had two choices; either wave Annie off and not answer her question, or to break down his walls and be honest with her.

Armin tried to come up with a third option, anything to avoid this conversation which was morphing into an awkward discussion of the past, but he couldn’t. He put his hand on his head, covering his face from Annie, and whispered: “Annie, I did it because I wanted…” a pause, “…to see you…”

Armin was sure that his face was bright red, he could use a dip in the freezing ocean to cool himself down, but the ocean might evaporate into a desert and his face would still be on fire.

Annie glanced at Armin, her eyes widened, when she noticed his red cheeks from behind his arm, she averted her gaze, hugged her knees to her chest and buried her face in her crossed hands. She didn’t get it, or she might have, but she still didn’t get it-

“Why?” Annie asked, she heard shuffling beside her, and she was certain that Armin was staring at her, but she didn’t trust herself with looking at him, not right now…

“Huh?” Armin had no idea if Annie was serious or not, “do you really not get it? Even after Hitch teased me that much?”

A moment of silence passed, Armin watching Annie hunched on herself, her face completely hidden from him, he waited patiently for an answer, a grunt, a gesture, anything to make this less awkward-

“I don’t,” Annie whispered, her voice barely audible, she tilted her head the tiniest bit, allowing Armin to see her face.

Annie’s flushed face, how her eyebrows furrowed in… shyness? Her fingers clutching her legendary hoodie, and how her hair framed her face, slightly brushing her cheeks with the salty breeze.

Armin’s heart skipped at least three beats, he forgot about how awkward the situation was, seeing Annie like this, a blushing mess, nervousness aura emitting from her, curled in a ball, he had to muster all the power he had to stop himself from scooting next to her and engulf her in an embrace.

But he didn’t dare to move a limb; Annie showing such vulnerability was enough shocker for him already, enough to freeze him in his spot.

Five minutes passed, or maybe ten, or half an hour, silence the only thing shared between the pair, no words uttered, the seagulls cowing was their only companion.

It was unfair, the tranquility they were having, it’s unfair.

Millions of people were dying as they were sitting helplessly on the ship.

Annie couldn’t decide if she was imagining the thudding of the giant stomping titans’ feet or if it was distinctly audible from all this distance, but it didn’t matter, it was happening after all.

Father…

The brim of Annie’s eyes burned with tears threatening to fall, she closed her eyes, refusing to breakdown again, took a deep breath and said: “Really… what… are we doing?”

“right now… millions and millions of people are being trampled around the world.”

Stop, why are you telling him this-

“what…”

Bottle it up, like you’re used to-

“are we even doing?”

Armin’s eyes softened as he contemplated Annie, her back curved, he wished he could see her face… Armin couldn’t come up with anything to say, so he ended up with muttering a petty ‘yeah’.

Annie straightened her back, she looked forward, watching the horizon, the line where the sky and the ocean collided in flawless congruence, she said: “Now I get it, you’re a good person, and that’s why you were even willing to talk to an enemy like me, right?”

Annie finally turned her head and looked into Armin’s eyes, guilt sparked at the bottom of her stomach when she saw the dark circles around his eyes, she shouldn’t bother him with all this useless talk, nevertheless, she continued.

“It’s the same reason you won’t give up on having a dialogue with Eren, that’s what drove you to bother with a monster who could wake up at any moment.” She paused for a second, studied Armin’s face, “you wanted to avoid conflict… right?”

Armin’s heart dropped in his stomach when he saw Annie’s stoic eyes, even though he was used to this aspect of her, but it hit him different… after what she said… he couldn’t hold her gaze anymore, so he watched the floor instead.

Disappointment couldn’t be hidden on Annie’s face when Armin avoided her with his eyes, you should’ve shut up from the beginning…

Faking satisfaction with Armin’s silence as an answer, Annie stood up, wanting to be anywhere, but not here.

Armin’s hand shot up and held Annie’s wrist, halting her before she moved away. He waited for some time, waiting for Annie to kick him away, but she didn’t, so his grip only tightened more, holding on to her.

“Sit down,” Armin said, he didn’t intend for it to sound like a command, and he didn’t know how Annie took it, “also… I know I told you this before, but I really don’t like being called a good person after all.”

Annie’s eyebrows rose the tiniest bit.

“I’ve killed a lot of people,” Armin resumed, “not just soldiers… regular people… children… and…” he swallowed, “now I’ve made the choice to betray everyone living on the island where I was born and raised.”

Armin…

“I killed my allies… I’ve been a monster for a long time now.”

Annie stood there with Armin’s hand still latched onto her wrist, she didn’t know what to say… but she knew that now there was no barrier between her and Armin, now she could respond to his talking, and she found some kind of liberty in that… she slowly sat back down, Armin retreating his hand.

Armin wasn’t hesitant with pouring out his thoughts to Annie, he never was; he saw himself back in the basement, sitting on the cold stone floor, the dim torches illuminating the room, Armin talking out everything on his mind, as much as a response would’ve been better than the killing stillness; all he wanted was someone to hear him out, to understand him.

“Somewhere in my head…” Armin was still lost in his thoughts, “there was… a promise I made to Eren that we’d travel the world of the unknown, I thought…” he couldn’t cover up the desperation tone in his voice, “it would come true.”

Annie sat silent for a moment, now that she could actually respond to Armin, she found it harder than she thought it would be: “The world of the unknown…” she repeated what he said, “wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, was it?”

Armin’s eyebrows lessened, his eyelids dropping low: “No… it wasn’t the world we dreamed of…”

Annie saw the fifteen years old Armin in front of her, his hair longer, his features childish, she saw a boy upset that he couldn’t find the toy he was yearning to get in the toy store.

“But-” Armin continued, but the cowing of a seagull that landed on the railing beside him interrupted him.

Armin and Annie watched the seagull, its gaze atrocious, digging holes in them. They wondered where it came from… did it witness the disaster over the seas and found the ship as a refuge? Just how many people wished they could grow wings and fly away? To escape this awful fate?

“I still want to believe…” Armin didn’t steer away his eyes from the seagull, “that there’s still a world we don’t know about yet out there… past the walls.”

“There is…” Annie answered, Armin looked at her, and she held his gaze, “no matter how corrupted the world is, no matter how brutal the atrocities people commit, there is still some good in this world.”

Annie looked down, at where Armin’s hand was on the floor beside him, she stretched her hand, and slowly, very slowly, as if experimenting the feeling, she intertwined her fingers with him, her other hand stroking her shoulder, trying to ease away the foreign sensation rising in her.

Armin looked at their intertwined fingers, she was holding his hand, even though she merely mildly laced her fingers with his, he knew that his cheeks were flaming red again.

But he fought against it, and instead of withdrawing and careful to not shift in any way that could be interpreted as annoyance, he tightened his fingers around hers.

Promptly, Annie did the same.

For some time, they stared at their hands, it was a simple gesture that adults were supposed to be over it, but for them, for these two oppressed souls, who were from two different worlds, who met with the most horrible circumstances ever, who went through hell and back- this was new.

They both found a new sensation of relief from being with each other, it was somehow familiar, Armin (in addition to Hitch) was the most person Annie had as a company in her life, where no combat was to be seen, just a normal conversation.

A one-sided conversation, but still…

She started to think that even if she didn’t crystalize herself, she would have sat with Armin all day, if it meant to be in his company.

Armin looked at Annie, her eyes downwards, still inspecting their hands, he found it adorable how this fierce warrior has a soft side too, he had always seen her soft side, maybe he was the only who did, but for him, it had been forever obvious that Annie cared, cared too much.

Armin lifted his other hand up, stretching it towards Annie’s face…

Memories from one day in the basement flashed before his eyes, when Hitch caught him a second before he touched Annie’s crystal. At that time, he imagined what it would feel like to caress Annie’s cheeks, to run his fingers through her golden hair…

His hands were millimeters away from making this fantasy come true…

When Armin’s hand rested against Annie’s cheek, when he felt her soft skin against the calloused skin of his palm, he thought he might be dreaming, but when Annie looked up into his eyes, the blue of her orbs more radiant than the vast ocean around them, he knew it was all real.

Reddish blush dusted Annie’s cheeks, matching Armin’s. She studied his face, how his bangs stopped right past his eyebrows, the sun reflecting in his eyes, adding a twinkling shimmer to them, his jaw a little sharper than she remembered, his lips a little bit agape…

Armin tentatively caressed Annie’s cheek, he heard her swallow, so he made his touch lighter, gently moving his fingers over her cheekbone, touching the bridge of her nose, then moving his fingers over her eyebrow, to land back on her cheek. His fingers took this path multiple times, lingering on different spots each time.

The comfort Annie got from these small gestures was more than she would like to admit, if they had more time, she would probably ask him to do this over and over again, but a new sensation travelled in her body when Armin held a strand of her hair, twirled it twice, before he put it behind her ear.

Annie unconsciously placed the tips of her fingers on his roaming hand, feeling his knuckles move while running his fingers through her hair.

I can feel her, I can feel her…

Armin’s breath hitched in his throat when Annie leaned into his palm, and he felt special, pride swelled in him, he was the only one who ever touched Annie in this way, he was the only one Annie blushed in front of.

A part of him wished that Annie didn’t trap herself in that crystal, how life would’ve been like with Annie around? how would it have been if they had those four years for themselves?

Before thinking too much of it, Annie turned her head slightly, closed her eyes, and placed a kiss on Armin’s palm.

Armin stopped his movements, the soft lips kissing his palm was enough to send shivers up to his head, short-circuiting with his whirring thoughts, and ugh he just wanted to hug her, to embrace her into his chest and stay like that forever.

Instead, he leaned forward, parting her bangs sideways, kissing her forehead. His lips lingered there for a moment, he closed his eyes, memorizing how it feels like to kiss Annie Leonhart’s forehead.

When he pulled away, and saw how wide Annie’s eyes were, he thought she wasn’t alright.

“Annie?” Armin whispered her name, but she didn’t move, he called her name one more time, twice, but to no avail. He waved his hand in front of her face, and that gained a response from her.

Annie looked into his eyes, before her eyelids hooded her eyes, and her shoulders slumped back, her lips turned upwards a small pout. Then, she lurched forward, wrapping her arms around Armin, rubbing her face against his chest.

Armin was quick to respond, he hugged her back, his arms tightly wrapped around her, he inhaled into her hair, her scent was something of sugar. He placed sequent kisses on the crown of her head.

“I regret those four years, I regret that damned crystal.” Annie confessed; her voice muffled by Armin’s shirt.

“I regret letting you go, I regret that so much,” It was Armin’s turn to unleash his own confession.

Annie withdrew from his embrace enough to look into his eyes: “You didn’t, you never did.”

Armin brought Annie’s head into his chest again: “I did, many times, I did...”

Annie didn’t get what ‘many times’ he was talking about, and she decided to not push the topic any further, she only shuffled closer to Armin, her arms never letting go of him, as he rubbed circles on her back.

Soon enough, Armin heard Annie’s breathing slow down, until it turned into a deep rhythmic inhales and exhales, that’s when he knew that she fell asleep, in his arms. Armin couldn’t help the smile pulling at his lips, he rested his chin on Annie’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

~~~

“We should wake them up.”

“But they look so tired, Armin didn’t sleep in a few days.”

“Well, it’s not like we can just leave them here forever-”

“Ok! Ok!”

Armin heard voices speaking in hushed tones over his head, even though they weren’t quite enough to let him sleep. He slowly opened his eyes; the first thing he saw was a matt of golden hair scattered on his lap. He smiled, remembering the few moments before they fell asleep basically on each other.

“Are you awake?”

Armin looked up, he saw Jean with Connie, both staring at him with wide eyes. He nodded.

“We got some food, we thought maybe you two should eat something, we waited for you to wake up, but it looks like you could sleep for three days straight,” Connie said, glancing between Armin and Annie.

Armin chuckled, and Annie shifted on his lap, letting out a tiny groan.

“Alright, we’ll be right there,” Armin told Connie and Jean, who nodded in return and left them, Jean dragging Connie away.

Armin looked up at the sky and took a deep breath, he had no idea how many hours past, but he slept better than he had in weeks.

He watched the sleeping girl on his lap, her head on his thighs as her body curled into a ball next to him. He wanted to let her sleep for some more time, but it seemed that that wasn’t possible, he already felt guilty that he had to wake her up.

“Annie, Annie…” Armin gently caressed her cheeks, moving her hair away from her face. Armin had second thoughts about waking her up when he saw how peaceful her face was, no wrinkles between her eyebrows. She looked… serene.

He mildly rocked her body, and she cracked her eyes open.

Annie seemed annoyed at the light, so Armin put his hand above her face, shielding it from the sun light.

Slowly, Annie fluttered her eyes open, she blinked a few times, before she turned her head and looked at Armin, his head hovering over hers, the tips of his lips twitched upwards.

“Thanks,” Annie muttered, but she didn’t make any indication of moving away.

“You’re welcome, but we still need to get up,” Armin said.

Annie sighed and pushed herself up, Armin already missing her weight on him. She stretched her hands above her head, covering her warming face, and half yawned half said: “How many hours did I sleep?”

“I have no idea.” Armin answered, getting up and offering his hand to Annie, who accepted it.

“I didn’t sleep like this in years,” Annie thought, adjusting her clothes.

“Same goes for me.”

“Do you have some sort of a magical spell that you put on me?”

Armin chuckled, ruffling his hair: “Are you hungry?”

“I could use some food, but I’m not sure about that if it’s Hanji’s stew again,” Annie said, “alright then let’s go.” She walked off, but before she went far, Armin held her hand, stopping her.

“W-wait.”

Annie looked back at Armin, he was looking at the floor, she walked back to him, not letting go of his hand.

“I-I just need to t-tell you something…”

“Yes?” Annie’s heart accelerated in her chest.

“I…” Armin sighed, he rubbed the back of his neck, “I know this is hardly the time for this…”

“Yes,” Annie agreed, “the world is ending.”

“I-I know! That’s why I’m telling you this… listen, this might be my last chance, and I don’t care if I’m making a fool of myself, I just need you to know that I care a lot for you.”

Annie was speechless, her tongue was tied, and she forgot what words were.

With a sudden wave of determination, Armin locked his eyes with Annie and said, his voice firm and certain: “I need you to know that you are very important to me, and that… when all of this is over, I-I mean if we make it out alive, I would love to spend more time with you…”

Annie was quiet, she didn’t expect that, and she had no idea how to respond to that, so, she stretched her hand and put it on Armin’s cheek, she realized how taller he had become. Annie caressed his cheek, trying to come up with anything to say…

“Annie…” Armin whispered, he glanced at her hand, how her fingers drew circles on his cheeks, he thought the trace of the tips of her fingers burned a path in his skin, but it was pleasant, a pleasant sensation of sparks igniting a wild fire in his chest.

Armin’s hand reached out for Annie, having a mind of their own, cupping her cheeks, caressing them with his thumbs.

An abrupt motivation sparked in Annie, she remembered how comforting it felt when Armin kissed her forehead, and she thought it would be an adequate answer to what he told her, she stepped on her tiptoes, trying to reach his forehead, only to realize that the highest point she could reach was his nose.

Annie already felt embarrassed at her failed attempt, her thighs were starting to ache, so she settled with a stolen kiss on his nose.

Armin’s heart was beating in his ears, he was sure Annie heard it too, but he wasn’t nervous, he wasn’t afraid, for he could hear her heart rummaging too.

Annie staggered back almost losing her footing, but Armin was quick to act, he placed his hand on the lower of her back, balancing her against gravity rules.

Armin found his face a few inches away from Annie’s, her eyes blown wide. Armin swallowed, before he leaned in until his cheek rubbed against hers, he felt Annie’s hand hesitantly wrapping around his neck, balancing her weight while she pressed her frame into his.

Armin tangled his other hand in her hair, he could never get bored of how soft it felt against his fingers. He breathed in her scent and muttered, his voice breathy: “I want to, but I shouldn’t.”

Shivers trembled Annie’s nerves when Armin’s breath brushed against her ear, needles poking inside her stomach, she whispered against his ear: “I don’t get it.”

Armin pulled away to look at her face, because she gotta be kidding me, and she must have because there was no trace of confusion in her expression. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers, looking into her eyes, her blue eyes that seemed more magnificent than the wide ocean around them, the dark blue hues streaking her eyes were addictively dangerous, Armin was drowning, falling falling falling with no ground in sight.

“You don’t?” Armin asked her, glancing at her lips.

“I… don’t,” she answered, stealing a look at his parted lips, her lips mirroring them and parting too.

Armin leaned a little closer, and Annie felt his breath brushing her lips, her knees were getting weak, she wasn’t sure if she could stand any longer.

“Annie…” Armin whispered her name one more time, closing his eyes before claiming her lips with his own.

Maybe time stopped as Armin kissed Annie, his lips gently rolling against hers agonizingly slow, hesitant.

Annie’s eyes were wide open, maybe Armin’s soft lips against hers invaded all her senses and paralyzed her, she wanted to close her eyes, to tangle her fingers in his hair, to kiss him until her lungs gave out, but she couldn’t.

Armin’s lips slowed down until they completely stopped moving, he didn’t want to pull away, he didn’t want to see the you shouldn’t have written all over her face, so he withdrew, not daring to open his eyes, his fingers around her waist were trembling, seeming to have lost their minds and now Armin was in control of them.

But he didn’t get to dull over it; Annie pulled him down, meeting his lips again, this time he was stunned, his mind stuttered as Annie kissed his lips, meeting his mouth with fierce yet tender kisses. His heart skipped a beat, her soft lips was the only thing on his mind.

Annie’s core weakened when Armin kissed her back, both rolled their jaws in sync with each other, savoring a taste from each other that no one knew was possible before, Annie relied on her locked arms behind Armin’s neck to support her weight, she couldn’t trust her knees, then she was aware of her fingers, how they skimmed over the short hair of Armin’s undercut, tickling the tips of them, and when Armin shuddered at her touch, her toes curled in her shoes.

Armin stole peaks at Annie each time he pulled away for breath, he wanted a proof that this was happening and not just another fantasy of his wild imagination, but the heat radiating from her body, her fingers playing with the tips of his hair, Armin could get drunk on her lips, on her scent.

A small throaty voice left his mouth, muffled by her lips; the shy Armin he knew all his life was long gone. In her arms, he was reborn, the hope in him reawakened.

He tightened his hold around her waist, leaning against her small frame, I don’t want to let you go I don’t want to let you go I don’t want to let you go-

But Annie pulled away, warm marginal pants fled her lungs, her face was flushed. When she opened her eyes, she was met with his endless ocean eyes, half-lidded, unbelieving.

Annie’s sight was hazy as she blurted out: “You should’ve done this long ago.”

~~~

“What’s taking them so long?” Jean wondered out loud, as he walked to where he last saw Armin and Annie, he woke them up ten minutes ago, and since they didn’t join them, Connie thought that they looked so tired they might’ve fell asleep again, and Jean was involuntary given the task to check on them.

“Hey-” Jean opened his mouth to shout out an insult or something once he turned the corner to where they were, but the shout halted in his throat, and his legs were fixed in their place.

Annie was glued to Armin, their hands around each other in an inseparable embrace, their faces flushed as they were in a deep kiss, unaware of their surroundings, lost in each other.

Jean slowly packed away, retreating the steps he took to where everyone was waiting for him. A part of him envied Armin, envied how he found comfort in someone else’s arm, despite the horrific past they had together. But the major part of him was happy; happy that Armin stepped out of his comfort zone and was with the one he loved the most.

Just what kind of courage Armin had to make a move? Or maybe Annie was the one who started this?

What does it feel like to be loved by the person you care about the most?

Jean didn’t find an answer to his question, he walked into the room where everyone else was almost done eating.

“You didn’t find them?” Connie asked, whipping his hands on the tablecloth.

“They are on their way.”

~~~~

Ok I hope you enjoyed this!!

I wrote this in one sitting, then edited it the very next day, so yeah my back already hurts lol.

I do think that some of this was out of character to both Armin and Annie, but what I think is that this is a situation new to both of them, something they've never went through before, of course we would see a reaction that we've never seen before too.

[the-melting-world]

The Empress | Side B: “I Will Be Blessed”

I want to give a special dedication to my amazing friend and partner in crime Ligia Nunes @ligiawrites​ ​. This installment of The Empress is a major turning point in Kip’s journey. The opening scene was strongly inspired by the Strength throne art created by Ligia a while back (located at the end of the fic). I don’t think this moment would have ever existed if had it not been for that throne. So thank you, Ligia for continuing to inspire so much of my storytelling.

***

~ In which a humble gardener stops resisting…

The Trio Appearances: Kipling | Khleo | Ozy

Arcana LI appearances: Asra | Nadia | Muriel 

Track Origins: “I Will Be Blessed” by Ben Howard

Not sure if this is the right track? The full album can be found here: The Empress

cw: none

~ 2.2k words

 Kipling opens a Door that takes her and Asra to Strength’s Gate.

Kipling and Asra crowded around a golden throne in the middle of a flowering vale. The magicians’ fingers were already grazing the surface of the elaborate throne, trying to capture the shape of every groove, the curl of each engraved leaf glinting under the midday sun. 

“Was this here the last time you came through this realm?” Asra asked as he crouched down in order to study the finer stalks of wheat fanning out from the base. 

“No,” Kip replied airily, her focus still mostly absorbed by the face of a lion staring out at her from the backrest. Its features were half concealed by depictions of broad leaves and delicate flora.

If it hadn’t been for the boisterous game of catch and chase between the three familiars in the background, Kipling and Asra might have never been able to snap out of whatever spell the throne had over them.

Taro, Faust and Abaco kicked up an assortment of purple and orange wildflowers during their romp. The ring of flowers remained suspended in the air for much longer than normal before they languidly drifted back down to the earth.

Kipling wondered how much longer she and Asra would have to wait for Khleo or Strength to arrive. Only thing was certain – she didn’t want to walk away from this throne. And, she noticed, neither did Asra.

“There is a body that belongs in that seat, but it is not my own.”

Kipling and Asra straightened up and spun abruptly to come face to face with the guardian of the realm. The Major Arcana was just as beautiful and terrifying as Kipling remembered. This time Strength had settled on her sphinx form, her face an impossible fusion of female and feline.

The Arcana was well past the seven foot mark, glowing, and draped in fabrics whose color constantly shifted between red wine and raw berries. Whatever words Kip had for the celestial being died on her lips. Asra, who had more experience conversing with the Arcana, took Kipling’s hand and addressed Strength directly.

“Thank you for permitting us into your realm. I’m Asra Alnazar and this is my partner, Kipling Bronne.”

Without moving her mouth, Strength said, “I know who you are, Small Magician. And I know why both of you are here.”

When she didn’t elaborate, Kipling found her voice and asked, “What did you mean earlier when you mentioned the throne?”

Strength fixed the gardener with her predatory gaze. “I meant what I said, Small Empress. It does not belong to me.”

Kipling’s heart began to race. She squeezed Asra’s hand. “Then who does it belong to?”

“Who else?” Strength cocked her head to the side. “The cub you call Khleo.”

Kip stepped forward. “Tell me where she is.”

“Kipling.” 

Asra’s hand came down on her shoulder.

“She’s not here,” Strength said flatly. Then she walked past both of them and made herself comfortable on the throne. “I’m keeping this seat warm for her in the meantime. You must understand, Small Empress. I can only protect my cubs from the nest. When they leave, things are out of my control.”

“Is Khleo in danger?” Kip asked, wishing she didn’t sound so desperate.

Strength did not mock her for it. In fact, her expression appeared sympathetic. As sympathetic as a werelion could hope to look.

“Danger is a strong word.” Strength gave a wistful sigh. “The cub is being kept in a cage. Perhaps not one with metal bars and padded locks, but a cage all the same. Under such circumstances, she is more of a danger to herself than anything else.”

Kipling closed her eyes and took back her hand from Asra. He watched in concern as she hugged herself and swayed on her feet.

Not Khleo. Not her Khleo. 

“It’s my fault,” Kipling croaked. “I always tried to blame it on Ozy, but that’s because it was easier. That way I didn’t need to face what I had done.”

Asra reached for her again. “No, you can’t do this to yourself, Kip.”

“But she is correct, Small Magician.” Strength interjected. “The Small Empress helped put my lion cub where they currently are.”

Kipling’s knees gave out as she choked on a sob. Asra caught her before she could completely stumble.

“Stop it!” 

He hadn’t meant to shout at a Major Arcana, but he couldn’t keep watching Kip beat herself up.

“Strength,” Kipling made eye contact with the Major Arcana as she leaned on Asra for support, “tell me how I can help Khleo. What can I do to set her free?”

“Now you’re asking the right questions.” Some manner of a grin stretched across the werelion’s maw. “Ultimately it is up to Khleo to set herself free, but these things, as you know, cannot be done alone.”

She stood up, her face sobering right before she rested her paws on Kip’s shoulders.

“The beast in Khleo has fought. She has done nothing but fight since she walked through that Door that you opened all those years ago.”

Kip couldn’t stop the tears from snaking down her face. But she wouldn’t dare look away from Strength now.

“Khleo has fought and fought and fought. As exhausted as she is, she doesn’t know how to stop. And she will go on fighting until she can’t anymore. The body I gave her is both a blessing and a curse.” Strength sighed and let her paws drop from Kip’s shoulders. “I’ve done all I can, but the cub is stubborn and will not hear me.”

She drifted away from Asra and Kipling. The wildflowers in her path bowed to her and blazed gold.

“Something tells me that Khleo will listen to you. I took away their magic so that they may live, but that does not mean they have lost their command over the Doors. It may not look the same for them as it does for you, but…. They just need someone to show them the way.”

By this time, Taro and Abaco were back on Kipling’s shoulders and Faust had reunited with Asra. 

“Finish your training, Small Empress. Then seek out your Patron.”

Strength waved her arm. A Door appeared.

“Now go.”

Kipling and Asra walked away from the throne towards the portal. On the way, Kip stopped and rested the tips of her fingers on Strength’s wrist. The Arcana looked down on the gardener. Kipling didn’t say anything. She just stroked the light coating of fur and gazed up into the eyes of the sphinx.

Strength let go of another heavy breath, lacing it with a purr.

“Your friend. All she wants is to be free. To rest.”

Kip wished she was tall enough to catch the sun-lit tears before they streaked down Strength’s whiskers. 

“She deserves it.”

***

Back at the Palace, Kipling found Ozy meditating in the gardens. She had come alone this time. The familiars had gone inside with Asra when they returned from Strength’s realm.

Instead of disturbing Ozy, Kipling walked over, sat down and joined him. She fell into the trance quicker than usual. As if Ozy’s disciplined presence had served as a catalyst.

Kipling wasn’t sure how long she and Ozy sat there under the weeping willows with their legs crossed, their palms face up, relaxed and resting on the peaks of their knees. Their breaths were independent of each other. Each one entered deep and left with ease. Each thought floated in uninvited and drifted off unnoticed. 

Despite the coverage of the silky willows, Kipling felt the sun on her, giving the shapes that danced behind her eyelids a peculiar glow.

By the time Ozy’s voice called Kipling back, there were more warm tears hugging her freckled cheeks.

“You went to go see Khleo on your own. Without me.”

Ozy didn’t sound angry, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t.

“I had to,” Kip said, her voice surprisingly steady despite the emotions that the trip had brought to the surface. The more the trance of the meditation wore off, the harder she cried. She wished she could take a breath in order to tell Ozy that they were tears of relief rather than pain. She would see Khleo again. She was meant to help them. Strength herself said she needed Kipling’s help. 

Kipling felt like a weight had been lifted from her heart. When she dried what she could of her tears and looked up at Ozy, she found that she could focus on him completely. Her heart was still being pulled in other directions, but not as strongly as before.

Kipling allowed Ozy to help her onto her feet. 

“What did Strength say?” Ozy asked, his tone implying that he knew Khleo wasn’t there. His words briefly brought back images of daisies materializing spontaneously in the shape of a Door.

“She saved Khleo’s life by taking away their magic.”

Ozy confirmed with a gentle nod. “Right. She blessed Khleo’s body with accelerated healing and more strength than the average human, but they won’t ever be able to open another Door. What else did the Arcana say?”

“She said that Khleo needs to rest.”

Ozy made a thoughtful sound, his hazel eyes turning to the sky. “That’s what she told me too.”

Kipling reached up and lightly pulled on his ghost lock. “I’m ready to talk, Ozy,” she said it with a smile. “About everything.”

Ozy brought his attention back to Kipling. She was surprised to see that same hesitation on his face that he wore when he first arrived. As if he was expecting a rejection. 

Kip felt her confidence slip as she wrung her hands and fought to maintain eye contact.

“Before we help Khleo, there’s a lot we still have to do first. For one, I need to apologize to you.” She closed her eyes and inhaled a meditative breath before going on. “Ozy, I didn’t want to leave you on the island that day, but I was so disgusted with myself. I had felt like that all year. No matter how much I wanted to, I just couldn’t own up to what I did… to your face.” Her eyes burned, but she opened them anyway and forced herself to look at Ozy and the telling scar over the bridge of his nose. 

“Every time I looked at you, I told myself that everything was my fault. I was the reason Khleo was gone.”

Ozy shook his head and set his jaw. Before Kip could blink, she was holding onto him and he to her. It came somewhat as a shock, this being the most affection they had allowed themselves to show each other since before Khleo’s accident.

“Everything happened like it was supposed to, coz,” Ozy reassured her. But his voice was shaking, his hand trembled as he massaged his fingers into her curls and coils. He was remembering the pain, Kip could tell. And it made her remember too. How much she had pushed Ozy away in the beginning. How she punished him for something that was her fault too. She remembered the year between the accident and leaving for Vesuvia when she refused to let him back in. No matter how much Ozy begged and begged.

Everything happened like it was supposed to.

“No one’s supposed to be alone for ten years!” Kipling sobbed. “But I didn’t know, Ozy. I swear I didn’t know.”

Ozy’s voice regained some of its usual lightness. “Oh no, don’t you dare try to take the blame for that. I knew what I was signing up for. Remember that, Kipling. I put myself down there. Not you.”

Kip hugged him harder. “But I was the one who hurt you. I forced you to make that choice. Family isn’t supposed to do that to each other!”

Ozy pulled back just enough to lift Kip’s chin. “You’re right. Family shouldn’t do that. But you know what else?” He smiled softly. “Family forgives.” He reigned her in against his chest, this time bringing his face to the crown of her head. He breathed in those nostalgic notes of shea butter, coconut oil, and sea salt. Ozy closed his eyes and imagined he was kissing the sugar white shores of his youth. He imagined himself kissing every painful unsavory memory goodbye.

“Now can we be a family again?” He asked, his face still buried in Kip’s hair. “Please? I need to put everything behind me... but I cannot until you let go of all this guilt. Trust me, you don’t need it anymore, Kip. You can let it go.”

And then Kipling… she broke. Water and thunderous sobs poured out of her like she was the sky. Ozy didn’t walk away from the downpour. If anything he held Kipling closer. She had so much water in her, it seemed. As if that sea where they were all were born had been with her this whole time. Kipling had brought it with her to Vesuvia, but pushed it deep, deep down and locked it away.

Ozy let himself be the stone well to catch all of Kipling’s rain. Though he had spent all that time surrounded by water and knowledge, in many ways, it had left him feeling very empty. Oz’mandias knew that as long as he had Kipling, he would never need to know that emptiness again.

[weterali]

Fic Ask

Tagged by @radio-chatter! <3 Thank you very much, this brought some memories. And made me finally browse the “stats” page on AO3. (Took me a while to find out about the kudos... I nearly started counting before I noticed the button, oh my god, that would’ve killed me.) 

Tagging, as in - if you feel like it, of course - @brujahinaskirt and @fooolie

How many works do you have on AO3?

49 - too lazy to put all my works there, though. (Maybe one day...) (Hah!)

What’s your total AO3 word count?

450,699

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. Rat the Judge

2. Rat the Companion

3. Rat the Bastard 

All three are in the same series, for Red Dead Redemption 2. My first toe-tipping into the fandom and in English at that. I was very nervous. It’s very soft, a bit angsty, musing about what ifs, starring Arthur, Charles and Charlotte. 

4. Behind the Curtain - my first decision to try and start translating into English. A Son & Father fic. Kingdom Come Deliverance. I wanted the AO3 page to look as if it had more works.

5. No Statue for You - also KCD. I like this one. Nothing special! But so silly. I just had fun with it.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Yah. I want the reader to know that they made me happy, and that their words meant a lot. Also it’s a good exercise in beating the overwhelming shyness.

As a reader, I don’t generally expect it from others, because we all feel differently about these things and we all have different reasons for yes or no, but I’m always happy to see a response. Not judging when I don’t.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Maybe The Birth - KCD where the beginning of the game goes a little bit differently. Reminds me I have other chapters as WIP... oh well.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Now that I’ve been thinking about it, I think the Czech Dáreček is one of the happiest ones. Avengers fic.

Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the strangest one you’ve written?

Never tried it. I can barely keep up with a simple canon divergence.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Of course.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I couldn’t write smut to save my life.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Who knows? I don’t. 

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! (Still can’t believe it.)

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

It has been mostly at high school when we kept exchanging a notebook with my friend. The good old times of writing fics by hand.

It’s... not my thing, I think.

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Who can answer a question like this! All-time! There are too many. 

Uhhh, uhhhhh---

I’ll go with the oldest one. Never was like 100% into it, but it’s been a kind of a constant in my life, reappearing randomly. And in many versions. Sherlock Holmes/John Watson.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

There are, again, too many. I’d love to finish my series for Avengers, but since certain time, I just can’t get back to it. 

My super secret AC fic?? I am not sure, I know I won’t but I also know I would very much like to. 

What are your writing strengths?

I wouldn’t know. But I enjoy writing dialogue very much, hopefully it shows. And I do treat the characters with love, hopefully that shows as well.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I wish I had a more flowery way with words, to describe the beauty of the world.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

That really depends. I’d like to do it in a way that the reader can understand it even without the translation. As in, the character’s POV makes it clear, or the situation, whatever. I like it, but only in very specific circumstances, and done in a specific way. In other words - not interested in qué pasa just to see someone went through a Duolingo lecture. But I will always appreciate a character going for small daily words like thank you, yes, no, and others, in their first language. Or some of their favorite phrases in the other language. (Example - Hercule Poirot) (Catch me anytime going for “fair enough”, no matter which language I speak.) Maybe some prepositions, funny kind of messing up the language, yes.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

That was probably Naruto? The firstest first when I was a kid? I think. Other than that, I consider the first fandom (as in, I realized it was a fandom) Thor. 

But then again, I used to write for some books as well. Mice and Men and Pygmalion were among the first I remember. Hard to say now, really, but I was about the same age, I think.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

You know what, my favorite one is the one I’ve been writing for a year and never published a single word. It’s for a fandom I’ve always written in secret for, and never published anything, because it felt as “not my place”. But I’ve never been so dedicated to writing a monster of a fic fully before even thinking of publishing, and that’s saying something. I am very afraid that I will lose the fire and joy, but so far so good. 

Also, I am rather fond of the one I’ve been working on these days - it’s a new one for Kingdom Come Deliverance, and I’ve had it in WIP for over a year, so the excitement from finally getting on with it is making it beautiful in my eyes. (That’ll fade, but so far, I need to enjoy that.)