#i laughed so hard my cat FLED my lap

[charmac]

LMFAOOOOOO. AND THE REASON THIS LINE FROM MAC DID NOT MAKE IT INTO THE EPISODE... ANY GUESSES!????

[thegirlwhorideslikeasamurai]

Headcanon game: Yuuri and Viktor for X 🤭🤭

Hi anon thank you so much for this wonderful ask! 😂

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Answer below the read more tag (no dick pics, promise!)

Viktor: 🍆🍆

Yuuri: 🍆🍆🍆

(number of 🍆 = size, with 2 being average, sorry not sorry, I guess I just wanted Vitya to be satisfied 🤭)

[scottybrock]

The Show - Beck/Jade/Reader

A/N: THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING A FIC THAT HAS A POLY COUPLE IN IT, PLS DON’T ROAST ME

“Move,” Jade ordered, slamming her lunch tray on the table. Tori glared at her, but Jade was unfazed. “You kissed Beck during your first week here,” Jade reminded the thin brunette. Beck scrunched his nose at the reminder, subconsciously lifting a hand to wipe at his lips. “That was because you poured coffee on my head!” Tori whined. 

You glanced at Jade, who smirked. “Be glad it was iced coffee,” Jade responded, roughly shoving her way between you and Tori. “If you ever try to put your dry lips near my girlfriend, you’ll have to worry about more than a cup of coffee.” Tori yelped as Jade slammed her hip against hers, but you welcomed the contact, leaning closer to your girlfriend. A small smile pulled at the corners of her lips. “Hey,” You grinned. Jade’s bright blue eyes lit up, and her expression softened. “Yeah, hey,” She grumbled. Beck shifted closer to you, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Hey babe,” He greeted. Jade rolled her eyes at him, but a soft smile spread across her face. “Whatever.” She grumbled.

Tori tilted her head, her brows furrowing. “How is it that Jade has not one, but two significant others, and I’m single?!” She whined. You exchanged a look with Beck, then rolled your eyes. Jade glared at Tori. “What’re you trying to say, Vega? That I’m hideous, so therefore I deserve to die alone?” She snapped. You nuzzled your face into the crook of her neck, pressing a light kiss to her neck. 

Her glare softened as she turned to you. “Excuse me, I’m trying to scare the wazz out of Vega,” She murmured, trying to stop the giggles that were building up in her chest. You pressed another soft kiss to her neck, and she sighed, her tense posture relaxing, leaning against you. Beck leaned over and brushed his lips over Jade’s. “Yeah, but there are more… pleasant things that we can be doing with that time,” He smirked. You lifted your head from its comfy place to turn around and kiss him, your tongue pressing against the seam of his lips. 

His response was immediate; he gripped your hips with bruising force, pulling you onto his lap. Jade leaned over to scatter rough kisses along your neck, biting lightly at your soft skin. “Guys,” Tori cleared her throat. You ignored the waifish brunette, running your hands along Beck’s back, pulling him impossibly closer. Jade’s kisses and Beck’s tongue were doing things to you that weren’t entirely appropriate in a school setting.

With great reluctance, you slid off of Beck’s lap. His hands gripped your hips as if to hold you there, but seeing the determined expression on your face, he relented and gave your hips a final squeeze. Jade’s kisses tapered off, and you finally looked at the table. While you’d been occupied with your boyfriend and girlfriend, Andre, Robbie (plus Rex, but you couldn’t stand the puppet), and Cat had all found their way to the table. “Whoa,” Rex said. If he could, he’d be grinning like the little leper he was. “That was hot, babe.” 

Jade’s brows furrowed, a thunderstorm of emotions flickering over her flawless face. “Call my girlfriend babe again and you’ll lose an arm,” She snarled. Robbie shielded Rex protectively as Andre snickered. Tori looked on with an amused expression, a subtle smile curving her lips. Cat let out a high pitched giggle. “One time, my brother…” She started, then adopted an offended expression when your friends all groaned, nearly at the same time. “What’s that supposed to mean?!” She exclaimed. Jade ignored her, turning to Beck. “Get me coffee,” She demanded. You perked up, giving your boyfriend a hopeful look. Beck caved almost instantly. “What’s the magic word?” He asked playfully. 

Jade’s glare sharpened. “Now!” She snapped at the same time that you shouted “Please!” and offered your boyfriend a charming smile. Beck rolled his eyes at Jade, but bent down to press a firm kiss to her lips. Her expression softened, and she looked up at him with those beautiful blue eyes and uttered in a soft, sweet tone that she reserved only for you and Beck. “Please?” She requested. 

Beck’s handsome face lit up, a toothy grin settling on his lips. “Be back in a minute.” He acquiesced. As he walked away, Jade shouted after him, “Two sugars!” He turned back and gave her a thumbs up. Jade turned to her salad and began violently stabbing it as hard as the plastic fork would allow. You didn’t bother reminding Beck of your coffee order; after all, he’d been your boyfriend for almost three years. He knew what to do. 

You were broken out of your reverie by Tori asking Jade if she could have a cucumber from her salad. Jade glared at her frenemy. “No,” She snapped. Tori pouted, sticking her lower lip out. “C’mon, I just want an itty-bitty piece of cucumber,” Tori whined. Jade rolled her eyes, then picked up her entire salad, aiming it at Tori. Tori shrieked, ducking for cover. Andre immediately grabbed his backpack, ready to make a run for it. Cat was oblivious, eating her pizza without a care in the world. Robbie let out a whimper. You just watched, waiting to see what your beautiful girlfriend was going to do. 

Much to your amusement, she didn’t throw the salad at Tori. She chucked her half-eaten salad directly at Rex, and by extension, Robbie. The salad hit the two of them, landing with soggy splat. Robbie’s jaw hung open, his eyes wide. Jade glared at him. “That’s for calling my girlfriend babe,” She snarled. Robbie glared back at her, then immediately cowered away from her when he realized what he’d done. Without another word, he grabbed his backpack and his puppet and hightailed it away from the table. 

Andre and Tori laughed. You snickered, which brought a small smile to Jade’s flawless face. Jade raised an eyebrow at them. “I think you should leave,” She said, her tone matter of fact. Andre was well aware that when Jade used that tone, she wasn’t asking- she was telling. “Alright,” He acquiesced. “See you guys in Sikowitz’s class,” He stood, but Tori stopped him, furrowing her brows once more. “Why do we have to leave?” The songstress complained. Jade’s smirk sharpened. “Because,” She drawled. “While I no longer have a salad to throw at you, I have these,” With that statement, she whipped a pair of scissors out of one of her boots. 

Tori had a look of absolute horror on her face as she fled the table, with Andre following close behind her shouting, “Why’d you hafta ask why?!” Cat followed behind them, gleefully proclaiming, “Weee! I love running!” You giggled, pressing a soft kiss to Jade’s lips. “Wanna tell me the real reason you scared everyone away?” You asked, your voice teasing. Jade’s perfect lips curled into a soft smirk. “Maybe I just want to spend time alone with my boyfriend and girlfriend,” She replied, shifting so that you could pull her closer, your legs brushing against hers, then finally entwining. You pressed a hand to your chest, your voice playfully mocking. “Jade West, whatever do you plan on doing with me?”

Jade’s gorgeous face lit up, her smile roguish. “Oh, I plan on doing a lot with you,” She murmured. Your cheeks flushed, and you nudged her. “Oh yeah? Like what?” You teased, your lips brushing gently over the shell of her ear. She shivered. “Maybe when Beck gets back… We can go to the janitor's closet and ditch fifth period,” You suggested. Jade’s cheeks flushed, the redness contrasting quite lovely with the paleness of her skin. Her smile was uncharacteristically shy. “I’d like that,” She replied softly. 

Beck returned, balancing three coffee cups. “Where’d everyone go?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow at the blush on Jade’s cheeks. You reached for your coffee, taking a quick sip. “That’s not of importance right now,” You replied, a devilish smirk appearing on your face. Beck’s other eyebrow rose; he knew when you had that look on your face, trouble wasn’t far behind. “Oh yeah?” He asked, handing Jade, who looked rather flustered, her coffee. “Then what is of importance right now?” 

Your smirk grew and you glanced over at Jade, who was squirming in her seat. “The important thing right now is that our girl has some needs that need to be taken care of.” You replied. A matching smirk flashed over Beck’s face. He turned to Jade. “Is that so?” He looked unbelievably smug. How could he not be, when he knew that he was about to fuck two of the most gorgeous girls? “Well, babe. How about we move this somewhere else? Wouldn’t wanna give anyone a show, would we?” 

You shrugged, your eyes glinting playfully. “What if I would?” You teased. Beck’s eyes darkened, and Jade whimpered in the background. Beck set his cup of coffee down and pulled you to him, his hands gripping your hips tightly once more. “Fuck the janitor’s closet,” Beck’s voice was low and gravelly. “We’re ditching for the rest of the day. I’ll give you and Jade a show you won’t soon forget.” 

Jade stood on shaky legs, and you and Beck pulled her in close, so that you formed a small circle. Jade’s fingers ran up and down your leg, causing you to shiver. “I don’t doubt that,” Jade smirked. “Never had a reason to complain before.” You nodded in agreement. Beck growled lowly, moving one of his hands to grip one of Jade’s hips as well. “I’ve got no complaints on my end either,” Beck remarked, his dark brown eyes practically pitch black with lust. “Now get your sweet asses to the truck so we can get to the RV, and I can fuck you both into the mattress until the sun comes up.”

You grinned slyly at him, then glanced at Jade. “Can I fuck Jade into the mattress, too? You can watch.” Jade shifted slightly, letting out a soft whine. She loved that idea, and it was obvious Beck did too, as he pulled you into a bruising kiss. You nipped at his lower lip, eliciting a low moan from him. “Get to the truck now,” Beck growled. “I’m gonna call us in sick. I want both of you in the truck and ready to go by the time I get back.”

“I’m already ready to go,” Jade grinned. Beck let out a soft groan. “Let me go call us in sick, stop tempting me.” Jade’s grin sharpened, and she collected the abandoned coffee cups. “We’re most certainly going to need energy to go until the sun rises,” Jade shrugged innocently. Beck grinned, then hurried back to the school. The lunch period was long over, but the fun was just about to begin. 

“Don’t take too long, or we’ll start without you!” You called after him. Jade laced her fingers with yours, and the two of you began walking to the truck. Her smirk would have made the devil proud. “I like the way you think.” 

You grinned at her. “And I like the way you taste.” Jade’s cheeks flushed once more. “Ditto. I like the way you taste. Now stop talking, or we’re really going to have to start without Beck.” She grunted, opening the door for you. You pressed a soft kiss to her lips in thanks, then slid into the car. Jade joined you seconds later, resting her head on your shoulder. You wrapped an arm around her to pull her closer. She inhaled deeply, then snuggled closer. 

The driver’s side door opened, and Beck slid in. “We’re all set,” He told you and Jade. His dark eyes glinted with the promise of pleasure and love. “Are you ready?” Jade made a soft noise of affirmation. You grinned back at him, your eyes twinkling. “Always.” You replied. 

Beck’s smile widened. “Then let’s get this show on the road.”

[donaweasley]

What If

Pairing: Loki x Fem! Avenger! Reader

Plot:

A silly game of “What-Ifs” between two friends eventually leads to the realisation that the future, if spent together, may not be as bleak as they had anticipated it to be. A dialogue-based best friends-to-lovers cliché.

Warnings: Relationship angst, too many dialogues, long read, happy ending!!!

Read time: ~28 mins

Author's Note:

It's a long read with far more dialogues than can be deemed healthy. The reason is, I didn't want their arc to feel rushed. It had to be cooked slow. Another reason is that, I can't help hearing my characters, and it triggers a flood of dialogues! I'm trying to work on controlling it. 😬 Hope you enjoy!

Now has a sequel: Their Little Secret

“C’mon! You’re breaking the rules now,” Loki casually waved his hand at his best friend.

“I’m not. There’s nothing to answer really,” (Y/N) replied with a shrug.

“There must be something on your mind!”

She pretended to think for a second, and shook her head.

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

It was a usual night in the compound. It was just another night when one of these two friends had called the other in the middle of the night for some midnight snack. It was just another of those happy times when they had tiptoed into the kitchen like thieves because...no, no one would mind some missing nachos or ice creams, but because it was fun!

It wasn’t easy for Loki to open up to someone, let alone to allow the other person in. Neither was it easy for (Y/N) to trust somebody, given her past, especially when that somebody was infamous for betraying almost everyone, at every step, not to mention his attempts at ruling Earth and causing massacre.

But time is a healer and a magician.

And here they were now, looking at the moon-washed night life through the west-facing glass wall, and playing a game of “what-ifs”. One would say that it was silly and immature; some would even call their talks gibberish. But when the night was so relaxed and carefree, why wouldn’t they be?

The pale yellow orb hovering above the western horizon cast a soft ray of light through the glass wall. Oblivious to its movements across the room, Loki and (Y/N) were wrapped in a thin blanket on a couch, their feet resting on two separate pouffes.

It had all started with a silly question, something like, “What if you weren’t stuck in this building tonight?”, or something along those lines; they didn’t even remember correctly anymore.

One question led to the other, and soon they found themselves tangled in a game of questions that would have been enough to create an alternate reality. But eventually, they found themselves, not answering with imaginary scenarios, but debating over one particular question:

“What if you find the love of your life tomorrow?”

This question was posed by Loki, rather theatrically, amidst the many others that had tossed different possibilities of their near future. And it was here that (Y/N) refused to play along anymore because, as she stated, it was “the most silly question ever”.

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

“So, you claim that my question is even worse than your ‘What if you were a Jotun cat’? What kind of a question is that anyway?” Loki teased.

“Of course, it is. Undoubtedly!” With one wave of her hand, (Y/N) dismissed his appeal.

“And how is that even logical, may I know?”

“C’mon, this entire game is out of the boundaries of logic,” she claimed. “Your behaviour is like that of a cat. Don’t make that face; it brings you closer to being a cat. And...a Jotun cat sounds cool!”

Loki sighed. “And my question is ridiculous! If the game is beyond all reason, then...” he shrugged, “say something...weird, and move on!”

“Fine! If I-if... If I meet the love of my life tomorrow,...I’ll stab him. Or her. Or them. I don’t even know.” She huffed.

“Ouch!” Loki made a face, ”Didn’t see that coming. I would enjoy the stabbing part though. Thank the Norns, you never declared your feelings for me!”

She looked at him sideways with a stern face. Loki noticed the irritation simmering just beneath her skin, ready to burst out at the next prodding.

“Hey,” he placed a hand on her arm, “what happened? Was it something I said?”

She turned her face away. But Loki wasn’t giving up that easily.

“(Y/N),” he gently tugged at her arm, “look at me.”

When she finally turned towards him, he held her by the shoulders just to make sure that she couldn’t move away again.

“Now, you’ll tell me everything. What happened?” He inquired again. “I thought you were having fun.”

“It’s nothing Loki, it’s just that...you know I don’t like discussing my non-existent love-life. It’s...it kind of makes me...sad sometimes. Especially in a setting like this!” She waved her hands at her surroundings. “I mean, look at it, a full moon, a silent night, blankets and… It just leaves me with this reminder that I’ll be alone all my bloody life!”

Loki’s hands slowly retracted from her form and folded themselves on his chest. And just like that, they both found themselves staring out of the window.

“I’m sorry,” Loki’s voice audibly reflected the guilt that had formed within, “I never intended to...”

“No, you shouldn’t be. It’s...I overreacted. I’m sorry, Loki. I just ruined the mood. Shit! And it’s not my hormones, mind you!”

“I know,” Loki chuckled. “And you did not ruin anything. It’s natural to feel, isn’t it?”

She looked at him with a raised brow, “Somebody’s learning!”

“Somebody’s got a good teacher,” he smiled.

“Aww!! I love it when you acknowledge my awesomeness!” She wrapped an arm around him, pulling him in closer, and pinched his cheek.

“Ugh! Let go of me! Let...go!!”

The room was filled with (Y/N)’s cackles and Loki’s threats as he wriggled out of her grip.

“Do that one more time, and I’ll stab you!”

But it wasn’t enough to stop her chortles.

“Would you now?” she teased, and raised her hands again in a faux attempt at squeezing his cheeks.

He swatted them away.

“Stop it!” He warned again, only to emanate snorts from her.

But the next second, his voice changed into a compassionate one, “Why do you think you’ll be alone all your life? How old are you anyway? 80? 90? Isn’t that supposed to be old in human years?”

Once again her cheerful mood fled behind a thick curtain of annoyance. But this time she did not look away. She simply rolled her eyes, and pulled her legs from the pouffe to sit cross-legged, and shifted to face him.

“No, I’m not that old. But why are you suddenly so interested in this topic?”

“Because suddenly, you seem to have found an interest in getting annoyed.”

“Then don’t annoy me.”

“Not in my nature, I’m afraid.”

She couldn’t decide whether to hit him or laugh at him.

“Loki-” She curled her fists and shut her eyes.

“I’m listening, darling,” he smirked.

Of course, she knew how stubborn Loki could be!

Who else would know that better than me?

“Okay,” she placed her palms flat on her thighs, “the thing is...I can never make a relationship last more than two years. I waste my time trying to establish a...a proper, long-lasting relationship - something permanent - and end up with a heartbreak. Every. Fucking. Time. I’ve given up. I’ve had enough! Now, even if anyone makes a move, or if I’m interested in someone, I just remind myself that it’s not gonna work! I just don’t put any effort anymore.”

Loki hummed in response; his eyes were focused on her as if he was trying to decipher a mystery.

“And,” she continued, “given my current ��job’,” she air-quoted the word, “I’m more sure than ever that no one will last more than two months now!”

Once she voiced the storm in her head, her eyes softened and she looked down at her lap. Through hooded eyes, she stole a guilty, fleeting glance at her friend, who seemed to be musing about something really serious. His eyes were strained on the carpet, while his chin rested on a fisted hand balancing itself on his thigh.

For a long moment neither said anything. Only the distant buzz of the sleepless city floated through the air and filled the room.

It was Loki who disrupted the silence with a long and heavy sigh.

“I knew that Midgardian men were impatient, narcissistic-”

“Look who’s talking,” she smirked as she interrupted him.

He gave her a quick deadpanned stare before resuming, “-imbeciles, but I was beginning to think that they have good tastes in women. It’s disappointing, not surprising though, that they have proven me wrong.”

A small laugh almost made its way to its escape, but she pushed it back. “You think so?” She quipped.

He shrugged, “From what you’ve said, there is no reason to think otherwise.”

She sat a little straighter. “Really? Do go on!”

Loki immediately noticed the effect that he had planned for. Without giving away the joy of his small triumph, he continued, “Indeed! Look at you! You’re an amazing woman! You’re brave, witty, independent...smart...excellent with knives! And that’s my favourite thing about you, by the way. ”

Feigning offence, she exclaimed, “And I thought your favourite thing about me was that I tolerate all your tantrums, and keep up with your shenanigans.”

“I don’t throw tantrums, darling,” he pushed the accusation away with his silky tone, “and don’t tell me that you take no pleasure in the havoc that we wreck together.”

At this, she could no longer suppress the evil grin that spread across her face, “I do love a bit of chaos. It’s fun.”

“To think of it,” Loki added excitedly, “had you been on Asgard, you might have been the Goddess of Chaos!”

“Oh! Thank you!” She replied with a dramatic wave of her hands.

Both laughed at the way their words were unfolding.

“Thank you, Loki,” (Y/N) said after their little whirlwind of laughter had calmed down, “I guess I needed to hear something nice about myself. It’s been a long, long time since I heard it.”

“I meant every word of it,” he replied in a solemn tone that made something flutter in her chest.

Was it gratitude? Was it joy? Was it love for her best friend?

It was hard to tell. It seemed to be everything at once.

She simply smiled at him. “Even the ‘Goddess of Chaos’ part?”

“Especially that part,” he asserted, and she laughed.

“You’re the best, Loki!” She gave him a half hug.

“That, I definitely am. But you’re not too shabby yourself. And you should never ever be sad for someone else’s failure.”

“Alright, I get what you’re trying to do here,” she landed a playful punch to his shoulder. “I’m fine! Really! I just got a little carried away.”

“No, I really mean it,” he tried to assure her. “You are one of the most magnificent women I have known! And mind you, I’m rather picky in these cases.”

She laughed, “Of course, I’d know that! ... Loki, it’s...it’s alright. Some people just don’t have it in them to sustain relationships no matter how wonderful they are. I’m okay with it.”

“Come on! A narcissistic God is showering you with genuine compliments! And you’re still not convinced that it’s not your fault but of all those who failed to keep up with you?”

She tried another attempt at convincing him, “It works both ways.”

“Norns! I can’t believe you’re so foolish!”

“Enlighten me, please,” she drawled.

“I believe I have already established the fact that you are phenomenal.”

When she giggled and nodded, he carried on.

“Good. Now, your job, as you put it, shouldn’t be a hindrance in your relationship. You’re doing the marvellous job of being a guardian to thousands of people. People you don’t even know! How many would put their necks out there to do it?”

“C’mon, Loki, when duty calls, you have to leave everything behind and just go! Who’d tolerate that for days? They will snap one day.”

“I’d never do that!” Realizing his mistake, he quickly corrected himself, “What I mean is, had I been in their place, I’d have never done that.”

“That’s because you’re on the team,” she argued. “So, it’s normal to you.”

“No, it’s not because I’m on the team. I’d-” He sighed. “Fine, why don’t you try finding someone from this field? Stark’s parties are a great place to hunt humans.”

“‘Hunt humans’?” She snorted, “I like the sound of that. Nay, haven’t found anyone. Besides, mixing professional and personal life can be fatal. You never know when your personal life might get jeopardised because of a mission gone wrong. Y’know, the usual blame-game and all. I hate all that!”

Loki brooded over her words for a few seconds before asking, “I don’t get it. Why would it be fatal? I mean, look at us,” he gestured in between them. “We have a perfect understanding. We’d never blame the other for any petty thing. Or-or let it affect our friendship.”

“That’s because we have the perfect understanding, Loki! You said it yourself. It’s a rare thing that we have. And I can’t expect it to be with anyone else. They’re not you, Loki.”

“They’re not us,” he corrected her.

Joy seeped through his senses as he watched her face brighten up at his words.

With a nod, she continued, “You see, all that spark, excitement, promises - these sound really great at the beginning. As time passes, as the real world pushes in, love moves to the backseat. Love is not enough. There comes a time when you have to balance everything together, and love becomes one of those things. It becomes a chore.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow you,” Loki stated with a frown. “That sounds so sad!”

“It is!”

“Well, it shouldn’t be! Loving you shouldn’t be a chore! Let’s say...hypothetically...if I’m in love with you, then you’d be my passion. And passions never become a duty, not even in the worst of times. Instead, they help us breathe when everything comes caving in. You’d be my...my moment of peace in a war. How could I not be tempted to embrace this beautiful moment?”

“Unfortunately, Loki, that’s not how it works. See, when you have a lot on your plate, say your job, your dreams, your daily life and all the pressure that comes with these, you’ll find less and less time for your loved one. Things get hectic and eventually frustrating. You won’t be able to keep that flame alive even if you want to. And one day, you’ll come to realize that you have distanced yourself from your moment, even if you never wanted to. But it’d be too late. There’d be no going back.”

“I’d never distance myself from you! I mean, from my moment. I’ve been a king, and I know how taxing royal duties can be. Sometimes, it seemed like a luxury to get even a minute to myself.”

“See? So, how could you have found time for me?”

“I would have, darling. Not plenty, but whatever little time I’d have gathered, I’d have made them memorable. For you. For us. And maybe we could have gone on long rides occasionally. Rekindle the old flames? Or-or we could have gone on visits to other realms...for political reasons, of course, but could have taken the opportunity to spend a small vacation with each other. What do you say?”

Painfully tempting images of a life that could have been floated in her eyes.

“And what if we came back to Earth, and I got involved in...say, a job that was all hectic and left me all frustrated, and with little time for you?” She shrugged.

With a sigh, Loki shifted to face her fully. “We will take care of each other, (Y/N). If one gets low, the other pulls both up. And I know that together, we can do anything! I believe in you more than I believe in myself.”

She smiled brightly as she acknowledged, “That is...that sounds doable, yes.”

“You’re special,” he placed a hand on her cheek, “and you need to be treated in the most special manner. One that befits my queen.”

A moment passed between them as they looked into each other's eyes, both seeing the same beautiful picture.

His queen!

My queen!!

Wait, what is he...?

Damn! What am I doing! What will she...!

Loki cleared his throat as he abruptly pulled his hand back to his side.

“I’m sorry, I...”

“No, it’s okay,” she cringed at the way the words squeaked out of her. Clearing her throat, she continued, “We were just giving examples.”

“Yes, just examples,” he agreed.

“It’s fine! I understand.”

“Great! It’d have been quite...awkward...otherwise.”

“Oh no! It’s...uh...totally fine. We’re best buddies!” She gave his arm a light punch.

“Right!” He nodded, and focused his gaze on the floor.

After taking a minute to calm his heart, he wore his witty persona back.

“See, having a relationship is not at all tough. All you need is a good partner. And I’ve proved myself right again! No, wait. There’s something you mortals do. It’s...uh...about throwing something...”

“Goblets? We don’t do that. It’s you-”

“No, not throwing, it’s about dropping something...after you have proven a point...”

“...Mic drop?” She chuckled.

His eyes lit up.

“Yes! ‘Mic drop��. So, as I was saying, all you need to have a happy and successful relationship is a good partner. Mic drop!” He concluded as he mimicked the action.

She sighed. “There’s just one tiny problem. I’d probably never find the right person. The ones that flirt with me, don’t understand me, and the ones that understand me have friendzoned me.”

“I’ve never friendzoned you,” Loki quickly replied with a frown. “J-Just clarifying...in case you were talking about me.”

“Of course, I’m talking about you, you big oaf!” She flicked his arm.

“Hey! You friendzoned me.”

“No…? It was you! Well, yeah, I never tried to flirt with you or anything but...anybody could see that you were being just my friend.”

“I can say the same about you,” Loki playfully accused.

“Whatever,” she shrugged.

A thought started playing in her mind. And a couple of seconds later, she decided to say it aloud, “I...umm...Just curious...y’know, don’t take it in any other way. Did you ever think of flirting with me?” She put forward each word very cautiously.

Loki furrowed his brows, and opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, she warned him, “Be honest!”

Immediately, his confident attitude changed into a helpless one. “Yes, I did. Maybe once. Or twice. But that was all! I assure you!”

She could hardly contain the amusement that was bubbling inside.

“What’s so funny about it?” Loki asked with furrowed brows.

“Nothing,” she shook her head as she tried to hold back her laughter, “nothing at all. It’s,” and then she lost it, “I’m sorry! It’s funny! I don’t know why, I find it funny hearing from you!”

“Look who’s laughing!” He said wryly. “I could clearly hear your thoughts the first few days after I stepped into this structure. Every compliment that your little mind cooed at my divine persona. And may I dare say that not all of them were decent.”

Her hysterics were long forgotten as her face went red at the comment.

“How dare you invade my mind?” Her hand had balled into a fist, ready to hit his arm when he caught it.

“I didn’t invade it, darling. You were practically shouting inside that pretty head of yours. I could have heard it from the other side of the planet!”

“That was a long time ago,” she refused to meet his eyes. “I make better choices and better decisions now.”

“Do you?”

She opened her mouth to speak but closed it without uttering a syllable, and crossed her arms.

Loki nudged her with his elbow. “Hey, it’s fun to tease you. Don’t be a spoilsport.”

“I hate you,” she peeked at him through the corner of her eye.

“What can I say,” Loki sighed. “Alright, if you say so.”

She smirked as she glanced at him sideways.

Loki cleared his throat in a not-so-subtle manner. “So, the next time Stark throws a party, I’ll find someone for you.”

Immediately, she face-palmed, and groaned, “No.”

“What?”

“Please drop this topic. And you’d probably find me a psychopath, anyway” She joked.

“That hurt!” Loki exclaimed with a hurt look masking his humour, “do you think so little of me? Can’t I find a proper partner for my best friend, my darling?”

“No, it didn’t hurt. Don’t fake it. I know you better than anyone.”

“No, you don’t. You-”

“I do. And...I’m fine, Loki” she reassured him, “being with myself, with the people here, being with you.” She gently bumped her knee into his.

“Will these be enough?” His tone had left the playfulness behind. “Will I be enough? For all your life?”

She shrugged, “I think so. You...stick with me all the time, you understand me, you...make me feel good. What more could I want to be happy?”

“You know what more you are missing. A friend can never touch the boundaries of what a lover can give you.”

“I don’t need a lover. Just be with me all my life, and I won’t need anyone else.”

He gave her hand a light squeeze. “I will. I promise.”

Her playful smile was back. “Thanks for all the pep talk, my dearest God. But turns out that I’m better off alone. Now can we please go back to the game? It’s my turn to ask you.”

“Alright,” he smiled back, “if you say so.”

“Stop saying that!” A defeated sigh left her. “You won’t be convinced, will you?”

“Probably not. Because I know that this will gnaw at you again a few days later. I know you’ll be sad again. And that I won’t allow on my watch.”

“God!”

“Right here, listening to you!” Loki quipped.

Rolling her eyes, she muttered, ”Damn you!” And proceeded to put forward a proper argument.

“The reason why I’m avoiding a new relationship is because I don’t want another heartache. I can’t handle breakups. That’s why I’m...”

When Loki didn’t make another attempt at dissuading her from her arguments, she added, “I just...try everything to avoid a heartbreak. Because when I get one, I lose control over myself.”

“Yes, I’ve seen. Once.”

“Then you must have noticed how vicious I become. Sarcasm drips from my mouth all the time, I say things that I shouldn’t, I...I hurt people. And in turn, I hurt myself. I yell at those who want nothing but good for me. But...”

“But being mean seems to be the only way to mask the pain,” he finished her line.

“It does, yes!”

She looked at him, and into his eyes that silently spoke of the pain that was resurfacing. She remembered something.

“You and I are so...alike!”

He nodded with a smile. “And maybe that is why we understand each other more than anyone ever could. … But we’re more than just being alike, if you think about it.”

She noticed how his voice gradually rose from its usual calmness to an excited tone, and his hands moved with his words.

Loki continued, “You point out my mistakes but don’t accuse me like everyone else does. You show me what’s right. And there’s this-this thing about you, which is so scary...the way you make me do all the things that you want. I-I mean, I am the God here! But you…a mortal...how can you have so much power over me?”

He sighed as his voice dropped to a compassionate tone, “You make me happy, (Y/N). You’ve taught me to forgive when I can, to forget what I can’t fix.”

“Don’t always do that,” she interrupted with a smirk.

His evil smile made a brief appearance before he resumed his warm note, “I like being with you. No...I love being with you! You make me feel good. You make me feel...I don’t know.... You make me feel…”

“Complete?”

“Yes!” He observed her, “You complete me.”

For yet another time, silence enveloped them. The only difference was that this time, it was comfortable. Even in their hushed moments, they could hear each other, know what the other wanted to say.

After a while of exchanging quiet stares, (Y/N) spoke, “All this time I believed, but now I know for myself, that you are indeed Silvertongue!”

Loki looked at his lap and laughed, but in the pale light of the setting moon, she noticed the pink that had crept up his ears and cheeks.

“I meant every word of what I said,” he reassured her once again that evening.

“I know, Loki.”

Loki watched her as she shifted to a kneeling position, and leaned towards him. He felt his face becoming hotter as she supported herself on his shoulder with one hand, and placed a soft kiss on his cheekbone.

As she settled back, her lips tingled with the memory of Loki’s skin on it.

They had been best friends, yes, but she had never allowed herself more than a quick hug because she knew that Loki wasn’t someone open to random touches. And she wanted to respect that. Always.

But this peck felt right. It felt necessary. And it felt...different.

What happened next wasn’t guided by logic anymore, but only by their senses.

Loki put his legs back on the pouffe, and scooted a little closer to (Y/N). Taking the cue, she shifted so that her leg was stretched out, and back on the pouffe - not on hers but his - and sat close to him. He arranged the blanket so that it covered them both again.

Another stretch of silence enveloped them. To them, the moment was beautiful. To Loki, who had never experienced anything similar before, it was precious. If he could stop time, he would have done it right then and there.

“Why haven’t you found anyone yet?” She asked him.

“Royalty has its disadvantages,” he replied without taking a moment to think.

She leaned back slightly to get a good look at his face, “Didn’t you ever find anyone from the royal...uh...what do you call it? Of royal blood?”

Loki laughed at her naivety. “Can’t say I didn’t. But none of them were the one. Besides, most people chose my handsome brother over me. And if anyone chose me, well, it was mostly because of my royal title. None of them were real.”

“That’s awful! I would never have done that to you! I’d have chosen you for the wonderful being that you are. But, I get it; happens on our planet, too.”

“Everywhere,” he asserted.

“So...who do you think is the one for you?”

He looked down at her face, which was mere inches away from his. For the first time in months of their friendship, he felt something swell inside his chest at the closeness.

“I still don’t know,” he whispered, “but I think the Norns might have started giving me clues.”

He didn’t need to explain, obviously. All the tension that had been building up throughout the night had placed them both on the same page.

Without thinking, Loki moved his wrist so that his palm was facing the ceiling. And instinctively, (Y/N) placed her hand in it, their fingers closing around each other.

"It's odd," she announced after a while.

"Indeed."

"It's weird. I mean, what were we even thinking!" She huffed, although she was still clutching his hand, as was he holding hers.

"Exactly what I was thinking. You and me?” Loki laughed nervously, “Come on!"

"Yeah!"

"Right".

Silence, their faithful companion for the night, visited them once again.

"Could it be? You and me?" Loki’s voice was a little more than a whisper, and bordered on the edge of confidence and doubt.

"Doesn't sound so bad. Not after all these... Talks?" She whispered back.

"Right!"

"Right."

And once again, they fell quiet.

The strangeness of the moment pushed them both into a whirlpool of thoughts. From acquaintances to partners to friends to best friends to...lovers?

Can this even be possible? What if it’s just a passing phase? What if everything goes back to normal tomorrow? Will we still be able to talk normally? But… This feels right. Just...right.

With a sigh, (Y/N) put her head on Loki’s shoulder.

"I don't want to rush into anything and ruin what we have," she confessed in a hushed tone, eyes staring into the night outside.

"Neither do I. You're the only one I have."

With a raised brow, she looked up at him.

"And Thor," he corrected himself with a small smile.

"Glad you remember him "

"Shut up.

Slowly, hesitantly, Loki put his free hand around her. Unsure of the appropriateness of the action, he kept his arm loosely hanging around her frame.

He waited for a while. Had Loki looked at her face, instead of looking straight ahead in fear, he would have noticed the small smile that had formed on her lips.

When she didn’t flinch or protest, he began to rest his arm properly but gently on her. He even went ahead and made the slightest possible effort to pull her closer to him.

The smile that had started forming on her now spread wide enough to turn into a grin. Its reflection was found on Loki’s face, too, who could finally muster the courage to look at her, although he was equally worried that she would be able to hear his heart trying to hammer its way out of his chest.

With every minute that passed, Loki became more baffled, for he couldn’t decide which moment he’d frame and hang on the wall of his heart as the most precious one.

"Are you feeling hot?" She asked without looking at him.

"A bit, yes. You, too?"

"Quite a bit, actually," she gulped.

"Is it normal?"

"I guess, yes. Totally! Had we been cool about it, it'd have meant that there's no spark between us. It’d have felt awkward, wrong."

"So, you agree that there's a spark between us?" He didn’t even attempt to hide the mischievous smirk that shone on his face.

"I had always suspected," she nodded.

"Hmm. When was the last time we went out for dinner?" He asked.

“Probably last month...or was it-”

(Y/N)’s head snapped up to look at him. She could barely put a lid on her excitement.

"Are you proposing to take me out on a date?"

"Well, if we are going to do this, then I'd like to court you properly."

She felt like she'd burst out of sheer excitement.

"If you'd agree to it, that is" Loki clarified.

Taking a large breath, she replied, "I'd love it."

The night was going better than either had expected. Who would have thought that a game of weird questions and a few confessions could change their lives!

(Y/N) put her head back on his shoulder, and let her body slump against him. He held her confidently this time.

“It still feels weird though,” she declared.

“It does, yes, but...maybe this is...right?” In a long time, Loki was hopeful about something, and he wasn’t going to let it slip away. No.

“I hope so.”

“Me, too.”

“Just so you know,” she sat up straight, “Thor is handsome, yes, but you are devilishly charming. You’re intelligent, well-read, witty, sarcastic, great at combat...uh...”

“Go on,” Loki smirked, earning a playful glare from her.

“You are,” she continued, “seductive! And who can resist a sorcerer who knows his way around everything!”

The evil smile that Loki had put away found its way back on his face. “As far as I remember, I did nothing to seduce you. I wonder what will happen if I try...”

“Shut up, Loki! You know I give away raw compliments. I didn’t really mean...I didn’t think...”

He laughed heartily at the furious way she was blushing.

“I was only pulling your leg. I had imagined you to be wise,” he clarified.

“I am! It’s just... I was...” She shook her head.

“So,” Loki resumed, “you think I’m devilishly charming?”

“Drop the topic, please!”

“You can’t resist my sorcery, ha?”

“Please change the topic! Forget what I said!!”

Loki laughed as he continued teasing her. It wasn’t going to be an easy ride, she realized, with the God of Mischief, but it was going to be the best ever!

“(Y/N)?”

“Hmm?”

“I know it was your turn to ask but, what if...you and I are indeed meant to be together?”

She smiled as she rubbed her cheek on his shirt, “I think we’ll have a gorgeous future together. And...I’d love that more than anything else.”

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

The next morning...

“Morning, Wanda-”

“Shh! Shh!!” The red-haired witch silenced Natasha, and pointed towards the couch.

Curious, Natasha’s eyes followed the direction that Wanda’s finger was pointing at.

There, snuggled in a blanket, fast asleep, sat (Y/N) and Loki, their legs spread on a pouffe, tangled with each other’s. Loki’s arm was wrapped around her shoulder while she was holding his waist. Her head lay on his chest and his on hers.

“Aren’t they cute?” Wanda whispered.

Before Nat could reply, Tony’s voice cut the conversation.

“Who’s cute?”

This time, both the ladies shushed him, leaving a perplexed expression on his once sleepy face.

When they pointed towards the couch, Tony huffed, “These two! God knows what’s taking them so long to realise! They’re just so-” His face lit up. “Know what? I have an idea! I’ll make them confess. Who’s up for it?”

***

Now has a sequel: Their Little Secret

And...a song for keeping the feelings floating...💕

[pillage-and-lute]

Eskel is a Fanboy (Part 2, Electric Boogaloo)

This is a second part of this. Which in turn was inspired by this.

Please note, this is less funny and a little deeper than the first part, despite the title. Discussions of FEELINGS, hardcore, but also the trials. Brief mention of hypothermia.

Read it here on Ao3

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

Geralt arrived late that year. Vesemir had been pacing the corridors, a worry line between his brows, for the last week. The snows were getting worse and worse and innocent snowflakes joined other completely harmless snowflakes until a very un-harmless amount of snow had piled on the track and the passes. 

Lambert, alongside Aiden (another reason for the creases on Vesemir’s brow) lounged in the great hall, completely unconcerned. 

“He’s stayed later and later every year,” Lambert said, lazily. “He keeps lingering with that bard of his. Why should this year be any different?” His eyes were half closed as Aiden played idly with his hair.

“If he doesn’t get here in the next two days he’ll be too late,” Vesemir snapped.

“I recognize I’m the outsider, here,” Aiden said. “But I don’t always winter with my troupe, and Lambert occasionally spends winters away...”

Eskel shook his head. The constant bickering was impacting his reading and he’d long ago marked his place in his book and set it aside. “Not Geralt,” he said with certainty. “He always winters at home.”

Aiden levelled a chilly, yellow gaze. “You love him.”

“He’s my brother in arms.”

“He’s special to you.”

Eskel wanted to growl and snap, but Aiden wasn’t saying it in a malicious way. There was no threat or accusation in his words. If there had been it would have been pure hypocrisy, what with the way Lambert currently lay in his lap. Eskel had spent a week pretending not to see the pairs’ furtive kisses.

“He is special to me,” Eskel said at last. “I found him, after his second trial, was given special allowance to be away from training to help him. Whatever happened, with the mutagens, he was deaf and blind for nearly two weeks. And had as much strength as a kitten.”

Vesemir’s pacing gained a sharper edge. “I wish I’d killed the mage that called for that second trial.” He said. Lambert and Eskel made eye contact, they were familiar with the self loathing in Vesemir’s voice. Lambert was angry at the world and his whole situation, but they had all forgiven Vesemir years ago. There was no choice but to mend bridges with a pack so small. Still, they rarely talked about it.

“You killed the mage that called for his third,” Eskel said, quietly.

Aiden’s head jerked up. He’d been a witcher, albeit a different school. He knew the trials, he knew the pain, but three trials... “They tried...?”

Eskel nodded his confirmation. “Geralt survived, and the mages who ran the trials wanted to see how many he could take.”

“So I split his throat on my knife,” Vesemir said. There was no satisfaction in his tone, but just an empty statement of action.

“I didn’t know it was you that killed the mage,” Lambert said. “I just knew one had been killed for the suggestion. I heard they made the witcher drink hemlock as punishment.” There was a warmer light of respect in Lambert’s eyes than usually shone there.

“They did,” Vesemir said. “It didn’t kill me.”

That was it for conversation that night, but Eskel went to bed thinking about Aiden’s words. 

He’s special to you. 

Geralt was special to him. There was an understanding, something gentle and kind between them. Geralt and Eskel lived their separate lives and had lovers and adventures. But for three months of the year they had each other.

Eskel had sometimes wondered if there was something wrong with him. He never gave his heart to anyone. Sex meant nothing and love didn’t happen, and he could only love Geralt for three months at a time. 

Except that wasn’t true at all, because of course Eskel loved Geralt all the time. It was only a softer kind of love than he read about in poetry. He didn’t need fiery passion and desperate declarations of love. He had a steady love for Geralt, as sure as the beating of his heart. It was as good a love story as any, but now Geralt had his bard and a tiny, hidden part of Eskel whispered “If Only.”

If only he and Geralt could lounge like Aiden and Lambert, to pet each others’ hair and share small kisses in the corners. If only Eskel really had Geralt for those three months. He had no doubt that the feelings were mutual, but something in their lives had been built apart, and it would take something powerful to shape them anew.

The next evening brought a blizzard. And Geralt.

It took both Aiden and Lambert to shut the door behind Geralt with the way the wind blew in around him. It curled and flickered shards of ice through the air that melted in the heat of the hall, dampening Geralt’s old, black cloak. Which he was holding around himself like a cocoon. Vesemir took Geralts cloak for him, which revealed what he’d been holding. 

Huddled against Geralt, nose red and face pale, was a young man in a blue cloak. 

Geralt bundled him in front of the fire without a word, pulling away the damp cloak and hanging it to dry. Vesemir brought blankets as Geralt pried the instrument case from the man’s hands.

A lute case.

Eskel’s pulse picked up. This was obviously the bard. This was Jaskier, Oxenfurt’s most prodigious poet. He’d studied with Rumi and Alighieri and Li Bai. In just a few years he’d reformed witchers’ reputations. They’d all been treated better these past few years. More money, less tar and feathers. Eskel went to sit beside Jaskier to beg him for stories but Geralt met his gaze, smiled softly, and shook his head.

Eskel restrained himself. Jaskier was clearly staving off shock from the cold, as well as hypothermia. Instead of doing what he really wanted to do (lay himself prone at Jaskier’s feet and worship his skill with words) he put on a kettle for tea. 

Aiden and Lambert make eye contact with each other, nod to Geralt, and leave. Vesemir also makes a tactful retreat. This time was just for Eskel and Geralt. And the bard shivering on a pile of cushions next to the fire. 

“He had a hard time on the Killer,” Geralt said, quietly.

“It’s called the Killer for a reason.”

“He begged me to come, I told him it would be too dangerous,” Geralt whispered. “He followed me and I couldn’t make him leave, that’s why I was late.”

“Vesemir’s been worried,” Eskel said, staring at the fire. He sat on the cushions, beside the bard, without taking his eyes from the coals. Geralt sat on the other side of Jaskier, rubbing carefully over the bard’s chilly hands, pulling off the woolen mittens and gently warming each knuckle.

“I had to go slower for him,” Geralt said. Between the two of them, the bard seemed mostly asleep. His eyelashes flickered on his cheeks, struggling to stay open.

“You can sleep,” Eskel whispered. “You’ll wake up, you’re cold but not in danger.” He took the other chilly hand. “Just sleep.”

Blue eyes slipped closed and Eskel took the kettle off the fire so it didn’t whistle. 

“He was so desperate to be here, he wanted to see the Keep,” Geralt said. “And I wanted him to come. To meet you.”

“I did make you promise I’d get to meet him,” Eskel said, sitting back down and resting a hand on Geralt’s shoulder. “I think I’ve read everything he’s ever written.”

“That’s not why I wanted him to meet you,” Geralt said.

Eskel’s breath caught. They were talking about it, sort of. “I know,” he said.

The bard curled up a little, like a nautilus shell. Geralt lay down on the cushions behind him and Eskel made himself comfortable. Sleep and warmth and the smell of the pine fire lulled him slowly to sleep. Just as he was drifting off, Jaskier reached out in his sleep and placed one hand, less chilly than it was, on Eskel’s arm. It stayed there until the morning.

“So True Love’s Waste wasn’t inspired by a person?” Eskel asked over breakfast, mouth full of porridge. 

Jaskier shook his head, gulping down hot tea. “No, I was out on a bender with some friends and we saw this washerwoman’s cat trying to catch a soap bubble, right?”

Eskel nodded, entranced.

“It was so totally focused on catching this soap bubble, it’s eyes were all wide and determined, like all it wanted was the bubble, but when it caught the bubble...”

“It popped,” Eskel laughed. “And you wrote a poem that has been deemed the best love poem of the last hundred years about it.”

Jaskier chuckled. “Art is more trite and derivative than people think.”

Eskel reached out and touched Jaskier’s wrist, looking into those heavily-lashed eyes. “Your work could never be called trite, or derivative.”

Behind Jaskier, Eskel saw something flash in Geralt’s eyes, and he stood from the table, clearing his plate, but then Jaskier was telling a story about Rumi, his former professor, and Eskel’s attention was diverted.

The next week passed in peace, for the most part. Repairs to the keep were ongoing, but halted when the snow was heavy. Vesemir kept them training and the library, neglected by all but Eskel, kept Jaskier busy. At mealtimes and in the evenings Eskel and Jaskier chatted about art and music and life on the Path. But Geralt was subdued, something tired and sad gleaming in his golden eyes. He wouldn’t talk about it, and he fled when Eskel tried.

It hurt, that Geralt suddenly wouldn’t talk to him, but Eskel knew the white wolf better than anyone, so he cornered him in the training yard one afternoon and pinned him down.

“Talk. To. Me,” he panted, grinding Geralt’s shoulders into the flagstones.

“Nothing to say,” Geralt grunted.

“Bullshit.”

“Nothing!”

“You keep hiding! It’s not nothing!”

Geralt kicked his feet up, flipping them both over and freeing himself. He stood over Eskel who was still laying on the ground. “You can have him,” he said, beginning to walk away.

Eskel snagged his ankle, bringing his idiot wolf down to the ground without remorse. “You’re stupid.”

“I’m not, he adores you. You have so much in common, it makes sense.”

Eskel remembered the conversation of the year before. Please don’t take my bard.

“I’m not taking your lover boy from you,” he snapped.

“He’s not my lover boy.”

“He would be if you would only ask him.”

“He deserves better.”

“He wants you.”

“He wants you,” Geralt howled. “He looks at you like you got out a ladder and personally nailed the moon to the sky. Every time you talk he hangs on your words.”

“He looks at you the same way,” Eskel said, quietly. “And I...” He paused. This was so close to the thing they never talked about.

“You don’t look at me that way,” Geralt whispered.

“But I feel it all the same.”

The admission rang in the empty training yard, despite it being barely a whisper.

“I want you to have him, to be with him, because the two of you are made for eachother. It was obvious to me before you’d even met. I just wish,” Geralt stopped, his voice growing tight. 

“What do you wish?”

“I just hate that it hurts so much. I love you both, I do, so so much, and all I want is you two happy, and you’ll be happy together, but I just wish it didn’t cut me out.”

Eskel rolled over and bumped his forehead to Geralt’s. There were tear tracks in the dirt there. “It doesn’t have to. That’s a silly rule and you made it up for yourself. I love you both and he loves us both, so you can have us both.”

Geralt sat up, bringing Eskel with him, then pulled him into a kiss that burned. It was a simple press of their lips together but Eskel felt like he’d been struck by lightning.

“Oh,” came a quiet voice from the nearby doorway. Jaskier was standing there, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. “I’ll just--”

“Stay,” Eskel said, chuckling. He pulled Jaskier down to sit on the flagstones with them. “I think Geralt has something he wants to tell you.”

Geralt looked nervous. He swallowed a couple times, eyes darting over Jaskier’s face. “I...” He said. “Um, what Eskel means is that... um, I”

“Oh you great big oaf,” Eskel said. “Jaskier, he loves you, he’s absolutely mad about you. He just can’t say it because he loves me too and it’s taken him the better part of a century to tell me.”

Jaskier beamed, his blush growing. “And you?” he said.

“I’m not sure I love you yet,” Eskel said. “But I think I will.”

“I think I will too,” Jaskier said, then he leaned in and brushed a soft kiss to Eskel’s lips, off center, so it brushed his scar and part of his cheek too. Then he kissed Geralt the same way. 

“Aiden’s going to be so pissed that he lost the bet,” Jaskier said, as if he hadn’t just rocked both witchers’ worlds with a mere kiss. “He bet Lambert you wouldn’t figure it out until next week.”

“You knew,” Eskel said, touching the tips of his fingers to where his face was still tingling from the kiss.

“They way Geralt talks about you, well...” Jaskier said, smiling at Geralt. “And then the way you talk about him,” he smiled at Eskel. “And the way you both look at me, I knew. I just wasn’t sure you knew.” His smile shifted into something bashful and a little insecure. It was an odd look on his normally confident face. “And it seemed too much to assume you both would really want me, I’m not all,” he gestured at his shoulders and arms, obviously comparing their builds.

Eskel couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle. “We don’t care about that,” he said, carding his hand through Jaskier’s hair and revelling in the way the bard leaned into his touch. “I’ve seen Geralt with a face full of pimples, and I mean full, and that was back when he was calling himself Geralt Roger Eric du Haute-Bellegarde. It isn’t about looks.” He trailed his eyes across Jaskier. “And even if it was we wouldn’t find you wanting.”

“He’s right,” Geralt said, pressing a little kiss right behind Jaskier’s ear. “We find nothing about you wanting.”

“You both are going to leave me wanting if you’re not careful,” Jaskier whined, borderline laciviously. He leaned back against Geralt and pulled Eskel closer, kissing Eskel’s cheek chastely in spite of his words. When he turned to kiss Geralt’s cheek too Eskel nuzzled closer, feeling Geralt’s arms pull him into the pair of them.

“You have to promise to write me into your poetry, after all this,” he said.

Jaskier laughed, head tilting back and eyes crinkling at the corners. “As if I haven’t already,” he whispered. 

Three months later the great bard Jaskier debuted his latest poetry anthology. Silver and Steel was praised by academics across the continent, although the line about being eaten alive was highly debated. Jaskier’s sudden penchant for high collars might have answered the questions, but he wasn’t about to give away the secret. 

[poison--ivory]

Cat Interruptions

Shinsou x fem. Reader

Warnings: Kissing, NSFW, fluff, modern au, no quirks, drinking black coffee, kind of shy reader

Word Count: 1.5K

Shinsou loves cats, no one can deny that. He cares for his two adult cats each day, feeds them, gives them water, weekly checkups, and cuddles with them whenever he has free time. He starts off every afternoon getting ready for the day, feeding his cats, and watching whatever he found on his for you page. This was more than not his daily routine, besides work and kaminari dragging him to the bar now and again.

 He works at a seven-eleven as a cashier, working from 3pm to 11pm, sometimes even later when his co-worker after him doesn’t come in for the night shift. His manager fired the guy and hired someone else, she’s a small elderly lady, but she gets to her shift on time, so Shinsou never complained when she stopped him for a small chat.

He never really had any reason to deter from this daily regime. That was, until about a week ago his whole routine went out the window. As of lately he's been fluctuating his schedule around to stop by a certain cafe. 

That’s where Shinsou, Hitoshi met a nice girl, around the same age as him at a local cafe. She’s a bit shy, always looking down or glancing away everytime he stared in her direction. Her face always looked flushed, probably from all the hot steam that gets blasted in her face. Her name tag read, (L/n),(Y/n), a pretty name for a pretty face he thought. They chatted every time he came in there, bonding over coffee taste and their anti-social behavior.

He ordered a black coffee with a cat cookie, she made a side comment that she loved black coffee. Then, they both laughed that each of their friends hate the taste of regular coffee.

Shinsou found himself dropping in at that cafe every week or so, just to see her. Waking up early to come drop by the cafe or blowing off trips to the bar to hang out with her after work. He slowly started to gain confidence with each passing minute. He finally acquired enough courage to ask her out on a date and from then on you both have been inseparable. You wouldn’t catch Shinsou without (L/n) next to him.

Like right now, he had his tongue down down your throat, the weight of his body pressed against your front. Grinding against your pelvic, and smirking once you began to do the same. His hard on rubbed up against your clothed area, causing a soft mew to come from you. He pulled away, bringing a trail of saliva with him. He kissed your cheek and worked his way down to your neck. Shinsou’s big hand slid up your shirt, tugging at your bra fumbling with the strap. An annoyed grunt hummed against your neck, and you humored him for a bit before undoing the ���tricky” clasps.

“I could’ve done that, ya know.” He remarked. His big hands palmed at your chest, squeezing the plump flesh and teasing your hardened nipples. Your hands worked up his jacket feeling at his muscles, a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. He pulled his jacket and shirt off, aimlessly tossing it behind him. “Like what you see, kitty.”

“Mhm.” She averted her eyes, a look of embarrassment plastered on her features.

Clothes quickly were skewed across the room, Shinsou locked lips with you again. His hand reached out to his bedside drawer trying to pull out his condom stash. Only his hand touched something besides the sleek feel of the box. It was soft and for a moment thought he was touching one of the pillows he received from Mina, but this one was really warm. Tearing his mouth off yours he stared at the cat laying underneath his hand. He forgot that Mochi was still in his room as he remembered that she followed them down the hallway. Soft purring hummed against his palm and as he redirected his hand to his drawer, the cat followed forth and  jumped down into the now open drawer.

Goddammit, Mochi! Not now, I’m trying to get laid.

“What’s wrong, Shinsou?” You asked.

“Nothing,” He uttered, his hand yanked out the rubber presenting it to her. “Just looking for protection.” Tearing the plastic off, Shinsou rolled the rubber down his length, giving it a few practice tugs. Smirking Shinsou went back to making out with you, his hand traveled south down your body. Thick fingers played with your sensitive button for a while, before concentrating on preparing your tight hole.

His other hand caressed your face,“You ready?” Receiving an assured nod, Shinsou moved in between your thighs. Massaging his shaft between your slick folds. Grabbing hold of his length he slowly maneuvered his shaft to your hole. The head slipped in and that alone sent shivers up his spine. Sinking all the way to the hilt he looked up to you for any signs of discomfort. Gripping your knees he leaned down to kiss your heated cheeks, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. As he waited for you to give ‘the all go ahead’, Shinsou was trying his best not to nut just yet. You squeezed his dick in a vice grip making it even harder to compose himself.

Grinding your pelvic and hips to his you wrapped your arms around his chest. “Y-you can continue.”

With that he began his slow pace, looking down at your face to see your face scrunch up in euphoria. Gradually, his pace got a little faster, moving your left leg further towards your chest.

“F-faster.”

“You sure.” He groaned out. You gave a firm nod, Shinsou nodded back in response. Fingers latched around the mound of flesh on the back part of your thigh, lifting them up he placed the back of your knees on his shoulders. Re-positioning his body he situated both his thighs on either side of your hips and slammed his cock back in. A muffled yelp came from you, smirking he pulled out half way before ramming his dick in your plum cunt. Grinning Shinsou’s pace sped up to an abnormal rate, tears fled down your face as he bottomed you out.

His concentration was soon was hindered by something furry rubbing up against his foot steadily trailing up his calf. A flash of silver darted across his peripheral, easing her way between the two gently purring on top of your chest.

“Mochi.” His voice was stern, but the cat leisurely casted her gaze down at you pawing at your nose. “Mochi, no.” Releasing your legs he picked the cat off your chest and softly placed her off the bed. Before he could even go back to having sex with you Mochi jumped back on the bed, placing herself halfway on your boob. Pawing at the fleshy mound before being kicked off the bed again. 

Shinsou decided to put her outside the room, “She really loves her papa.”

Maybe too much. He noted.

Climbing back onto the bed he loomed over your frame, “Let’s continue where we left off, Kitty-cat.” Leaning over her he caught her lips and began to make up for the little distraction. He didn’t get far as the sounds of excessive mewling began to get louder with each flying second. A very loud yowl followed by growling insured.

“We can do this another time or at my place next time.”

Mochi. Goddamnit. Why now? 

“Yeah, sorry.” A defeated sigh escaped past his lips. His mind wandered off to past experiences with lovers, some hated his cats after about a week into the relationship or agreeing to a second date after learning about his cats. A light peck on his cheek snapped him out of his trance, gazing down at you his face grew bright red and before he could give another apology you intruded on his rant.

“To be honest I’m just glad I got to spend this time with you. You make me very happy, Shinsou.” A warm smile grace your features, your swollen lips pecked his lips. “Even if our time was intruded by a very clingy kitty.” A giggle slipped out, causing Shinsou to laugh in response.

“I’m glad I got to spend this time with you, too.” Crawling under the cover he pulled you in with him, the warmth of your body gave some realism to the situation. “Uh, do you want to get washed up before bed or I could just get you a washcloth.”

Nodding you asked to use his washroom, he motioned with his hand that his restroom was down the hall, the middle door. He watched as you sauntered out the room, letting in Mochi as you went. The cat jumped into Shinsou’s lap, stretching and kneading his thigh as he stared up at her master.

“You may be a cock block, Mochi and I can’t really blame you for that since you’re a cat, but thank you. I’m pretty sure you just brung me and (L/n)-chan a bit closer.” The silver haired cat yawned as she curled up in her master’s lap.

Shinsou sat back against his headboard, petting and scratching his cat's head. His mind is roaming to various abstractions, slowly dozing off absentmindedly. . .

Shit! I’m still wearing the condom!

[pluto-writes]

A/n: Here you go~♡ I finished this instead of unpacking sdfgh... (つд｀) And a huge thanks for 135 followers!!! 4 more requests left to go!

Words: 1,094

Dazai Osamu

When Dazai came back from work, you greeted him with a hug at the door as usual. What was unusual however, was your choice of clothing as you approached him. You preferred to wear shorts or something of the sort while home. You had told him before you felt more comfortable in them.

So how come you were wearing pants? “(Y/n)?” He asked after you pulled away from his grasp.

“Hm?”

“What happened?”

Your eyes began to shift under his gaze, “U-um… I don’t know what you mean… Osamu…” 

“Then why are you wearing pants inside?”

“Cause I’m cold! It’s s-so cold in here! Brr!” You quickly came up with a lie on the spot. “Let’s cuddle!”

“That was a poor attempt at lying, (Y/n)... You know I can easily see through them,” His voice dropped an octave, eerily becoming serious. “Tell me the truth.”

Silently, you moved your pant leg up, exposing your skin along with the bandages wrapped around it. A faint red liquid stained them. 

Once he saw it, concern laced his features, “(Y/n)! Who did this to you!? I’ll be sure to make them pay.”

“No one…” You answered, your voice so meek you weren’t sure if he heard it.

“(Y/n)...” He said somewhat sternly, wanting to get a proper answer from you.

“Umm…” You hesitated, feeling embarrassed. “I… did.”

“While I was in the kitchen earlier, I dropped a glass cup… And it broke. So I went to clean it up, but I ended up getting hurt.” You nervously looked at him, waiting for his reaction.

“Pft- haha!” He broke out laughing, covering his mouth with his hand. 

“H-hey! Don’t laugh!” You pouted pursing your lips, “This is exactly why I didn’t want to say anything…”

“Sorry, sorry.” He put his hands up, “It’s just that you’re so cute. Next time, just tell me, okay?” He gave you a kiss on the head.

“..Alright.”

Nakahara Chuuya

While Chuuya was away on a mission, you began to miss his presence, so you decided to hang out in his office until he came back. Unfortunately, you bumped into his case that contained all his knives. And in your frenzy trying to fix up the mess you made, one of the knives managed to make a long gash along your thigh.

“Ah… fuck,” You hissed in pain, looking at the injury. You placed your hand over the cut, in an attempt to stop the bleeding until you can properly dress your wound.

Once you were able to bandage your wound, you went back to Chuuya’s office and finished cleaning up. As you placed the last knife away, the sound of the door opening startled you, causing you to stand unnaturally upright.

“O-oh! Hey, Chuuya!” You greeted him with a smile, hiding your injured leg behind his desk. “I missed you!”

He laughed softly, “I missed you too, darling.” He walked towards you, but at the same time you walked around his desk, using it as a cover. “What are you doing…?” 

“...Playing hard to get…?” 

“I don’t know what you’re playing at but,” he smirked at you, “I’m in.” He followed behind you, circulating his desk. After a couple laps around the table, it suddenly began to grow a red hue around it and started to float.

Shocked, you stay still, momentarily forgetting about your injury, and how your only cover left you. “So that’s what it was about, eh?” 

Chuuya eyed your bandaged wound, “Tell me, who’s the bastard I have to kill? A sneaky one at that since they did it while I was gone! Fuck! If only I didn’t leave you-”

“Actually…” You interrupted him, wanting to stop him from blaming himself, “It was me...” You explained to him what had happened that led up to your current predicament. 

After you were done recounting your story, the room started to fill up with soft laughter, “Was- was that really all?” 

“Mhm…” 

“Come here,” He beckoned, “don’t feel like you have to hide whenever you do something embarrassing.” He gently grabbed your chin and titled it towards him, placing a tender kiss on your lips, “Got that?”

Heat rising to your face, you somehow gathered the words to say, “L-loud and clear…”

Nakajima Atsushi

On your way to the ADA to visit Atsushi, you saw the most particular feline. She had an uncanny resemblance to your boyfriend’s tiger form. Her fur was pure white, with black stripes, and her eyes seemed to glow yellow. As you went to grab her, she clawed your leg and fled into a nearby alley. 

“Shit!” You shouted. The wound stung, and made it slightly difficult to walk, but you managed to reach the agency. Upon entering, Atsushi immediately saw you.

“(Y/n)! You’re here-” His cut himself off when he noticed your wound, “W-what happened!? Oh my God! You’re bleeding! Ahhh!”  

Putting your hands on his shoulder, you held him still, “It’s fine, Atsushi…” 

“No! It’s not fine! You’re hurt! Who did this to you!? It’s all my fault isn’t? The Port Mafia took it out on you, didn’t they!?”

“U-um… not quite…” Your eyes locked onto the floor, feeling too embarrassed to look him in the eye, “Unless they have a member who is 9 inches tall, has paws and a tail…”

It took him a moment to understand what you were getting at, “A cat…?” You slowly nodded. 

He sighed in relief, then laughed, “I’m glad... “ He wrapped his arms lovingly around you, “I don’t know if I could forgive myself if you got hurt by them cause of me.” 

Realizing the amount of panic you just put him through, you hugged him back, and whispered into his ear, “I’m sorry…”

“D-don’t be! Just… next time tell me, okay? I don’t know if my heart can take another scare like that.”

“Of course! It’s just that… it’s embarrassing to get hurt like that…”

“It happens to the best of us! One time I hurt myself while making tea!” He pulled away from you to pull off his glove, revealing a faint red area on the back of his hand. “See,” he smiled, “everyone gets a bit clumsy at times.”

He looked towards your wound again, “You wouldn't want Yosano to heal that for you… let me clean it up for you.” You agreed and allowed him to patch it up. 

After he finished, he pressed a soft kiss onto the now bandaged wound, “To make it feel better,” he beamed up at you. 

“Thank you, Atsushi!”

[astringofmadhousefloozies]

Surprises

Surprises of all kinds, found after a shopping trip goes wrong. Content warning for coarse language, sexuality, threats of violence, mentions of suicide and incest, and copious amounts of headcanons.

As always, there is more in my Twisted Wonderland Fanfiction tag, and send me a message if you liked it, I crave positive feedback.

~*~*~*~

TXT: where the fuck are you guys it's already quarter past

After a few minutes, you got a ding.

M: idia doenst want t leave something about a person see you aftr he needs freind

Oh goddammit, it's so fucking hard to get him out and about. At least Mal was with him.

You looked to Grim at your feet. "Looks like it's just us, buddy."

~*~*~*~

It was just you and Grim browsing through the dollar store, when a boy in a ratty shop apron came up to you. "Ma'am?"

You turned to him, and he coughed. "Uh, Miss. You're not supposed to have pets in the store."

Grim bristled at him. "I'm not a pet!"

Poor kid, he looked so startled. And you decided to make it worse, because yanno, why not. "How dare you refer to my son as a pet! Does he look like a pet to you?"

He looked between your face and Grim's, confusion growing. "Wh-"

"I know the resemblance isn't the strongest, but honestly! How could you say such mean things about him!"

Grim, bless him, actually caught on and decided to play along for the chaos of it. "Why are you being so mean to me? My mom works hard to keep me happy! She said I could pick out a toy today!"

The confusion had turned to anger. "That's not your kid! You're too young and he's an animal!"

Grim looked up at you, mock tears in his eyes. "I'm your kid, right? I'm not adopted like the boys at school say?" He started sniffling. "I'm not adopted, right?"

You clapped your hands over Grim's ears and glared at the now horrified shopboy. "Look what you've done! I hadn't told him yet!"

He just fled in horror, and it was all you could do to keep from laughing.

~*~*~*~

The village on the island wasn't the worst appointed. Being equidistant between two prestigious magic schools, it had a few places worth going, and after hitting up your personal favourite, you went to a small park, settled down on a bench, and started unwrapping your prizes.

You have a love for gashapon machines that bordered on a serious problem. In your biweekly trips to buy snacks and supplies to stock up your miserable, beautiful dorm, you easily fed 3000 madol (which you think was about thirty-five dollars or so at home, but couldn't be sure) into the long rows of machines in the drug store, coming out with tiny keychains, figures, and various useless but wonderful little totchkes that you kept lined up in rows in your bedroom. The joys of tiny presents! And the containers were useful too; for a creature who heavily insisted he wasn't a cat, Grim lost his shit like one every time your rolled a ball with a bell inside across the floor.

You were marveling over a tiny, perfectly realistic jellyfish on a phone strap as someone sat down heavily beside you. "Is that," they pointed to Grim poking his way around the cattails by an ornamental pond, "yours?"

"... Yes?" You turned to examine your seatmate. Charmingly strange looking, they sat impeccably robed in forest green velvet and squinted at you from behind perfectly round sunglasses. Flat-faced and thin-lipped, they reminded you of a toad, with their roundness and severe expression.

"Ah, then you are the one I am looking for. You're the pet of the prince."

"I'm a friend of his. Is that a problem?" You decided to keep opening your prizes, and pulled out a heavy ball from the bottom of your bag.

"His Highness does not have human friends."

"And yet, I am." This one, unwrapped, was the chase in the set: a tiny cauldron the size of a thimble that seemed to be actual cast iron. The chill of it was pleasant in your hand, and instead of returning it to your bag, you left it in your lap.

This presumptive stranger leaned in. "You're a diversion. A distraction from what he should be learning. Instead he plays with mortals and lets them forget their place."

"If it was so important that he didn't play with mortals, then why was he allowed to attend here?" You got a cheap set of rings on a goldtone chain in this one. Boo. You'd wanted the miniature necklace of the set for your doll. "He's very happy with the company of us all."

"Too happy. He forgets his place." The toady eyed the glittering paste gems before looking away. "Above you. Instead he crawls into your lap and serves you like a dog."

You froze. "Now, where did you get that idea?"

"We have sources." They leaned in further, smiling. A barely perceptible line of triangular teeth, sparsely placed and translucent in tone. "Foul things happen to the unwanted lovers of heirs, don't you know?"

"I am a wanted friend." 

"You're a parasite who should flee."

You realized something, and turned to face your strange benchmate. "Why are you threatened by me?"

They scoffed. "Why would we be threatened by you?"

"If you weren't," you said, dropping your voice as your leaned in, "then you wouldn't be here trying to put the fear into me." They leaned back, glasses slipping off their nose. The eyes in their face were exquisite, shining gold and black speckles with a ring of gold around an oval pupil. You could help but laugh. "Pretty eyes. You really are a toad. Who sent you? The Thorn Witch? Can't be, I'm not worth her time and if I was, she'd've sent a fucking letter."

"We're a concerned party, preventing our future king from making the mistake of dealing with filth." 

Well, that one pissed you off. You grabbed their wrist, feeling bumps and warts on their skin through the fabric, and pressed the tiny cauldron to the back on their hand as they started screeching.

"You," you looked them dead in their impossibly lovely eyes, "You go back where you came from, tell them I'm not a threat to whatever stupid bullshit they're worried about, and never bother us again. Or I will make you swallow this and you'll beg the precious prince you're so damned worried about to burn you alive to stop the pain."

You'd never seen anyone run so fast in your life when you let them go.

"Hey, Grim! We gotta go."

~*~*~*~

TXT: MAL SOMEONE SENT ME A TOADY SAYING I CAN'T BE AROUND YOU ANYMORE

TXT: MIGHTA BEEN YOUR GMA BUT I DON'T THINK SO

~*~*~*~

"I'm gonna kill that fucker."

"Killing them might start an international incident. If one hasn't happened already. You burnt them with iron, Yuu."

"I should have done worse! Whoever the fuck they were, that's two friends they've tried to threaten to stay away from you! That we know of!"

It turns out that the mystery toady had been the person to scare the piss out of Idia the night before. Not that they'd gotten far into their leave-the-prince-alone spiel, Idia had simply kicked them square in the stomach and fled, assuming another kidnapping attempt.

"It wouldn't have been my grandmother. In the last letter I got from her, she said it was very nice that I was making friends. She said to keep making them, even."

"She'd probably care if she knew you were sleeping with said friends." Idia was curled into the corner of his bed, and from the looks of it hadn't slept since his own encounter.

"No she wouldn't."

"You sure about that?"

You'd said that that was only going to happen once. Everyone agreed. But when all three of you settled in to play a game or watch a movie, hands moved and bodies flushed and you all seemed to find yourself tangled and gasping. And it didn't seem to require all three of you - you no longer had the strength to say no to Mal's obvious advances, and you'd walked in on your boys more than once. At least you were still friends? Really, really close friends?

"She wouldn't."

"Could they be worried about heirs?" That seemed logical. Even if no accidents were happening, they might not know that.

"That's not possible."

You raised an eyebrow. Everything worked right, and you all knew it.

Mal looked back at you. "Yuu, I hatched from an egg. I could have you both five times a day for a decade and all there would be to show for it is you couldn't walk. I cannot have children with either of you without magical intervention."

Idia made a truly impressive death rattle before mumbling something about the end of his bloodline, and you just nodded. "Makes sense."

"It's quite interesting, really, it requires numerous spells and potions, that if not kept up on, the babe will-" Malleus placed his hands together, back to back, and mimed the motion of tearing something open.

You flinched. "That's awful, goddamn."

"I have a direct ancestor who took a great deal of human women as breeding stock and simply let them be eaten from the inside out. That's what started one of the earlier human/faerie wars." 

"... Wow."

"I am not proud of her."

"Can we please talk about anything else?" Idia looked ready to be sick. "I don't want to think about any of this."

"Sure, let's grab one of your doujins."

~*~*~*~

"So you're already engaged?"

"As soon as it was clear I would survive to adulthood, yes. Idia, what is this series?"

"Nyan Neko Sugar Girls. It's not that great storywise, but it has great gags." He reached over and grabbed the next one in his pile. "It's not that unusual. My mother wanted Ortho to marry my cousin Alecto when they grew up, before..."

"Before he made a lifestyle change?" That seemed the politest way to put it.

"Before she went to the criminal ward."

You shut your book with a soft thump. "What?"

"I remember the trial." Mal sighed. "Strychnine in the sugar bowl at Sunday dinner. I made sure to get the newspapers sent to the palace."

"Mother was heartbroken over it, until she realized that the wealth of that entire Shroud branch defaulted back to us." Idia shrugged. "It's sad. She was just eleven. I still send her emails."

"Idia."

"Mm?"

"Why the fuck would an eleven year old poison someone?"

"My uncle said she couldn't get a puppy until her grades went up."

"What the fuck." You'd lie down if you weren't already doing so.

"It's the curse." He sighed. "We thought she might've been from an affair? But that proved it."

"My dearest Shroud, you can't guarantee it was from the curse." Malleus turned a page. "It might have been trauma from her mother's death."

You could see more bad history incoming. "Oh no."

"Alecto was from Uncle Jo's first marriage, to my dad's cousin Alita. She had a sister, but when her mother drowned herself, she only took-"

"Is this normal for your family? Or is that just some exceptional bad luck?"

He leaned in, lamplight eyes flashing. "Out of all the Shrouds of my generation that are still capable of inheriting, I'm the most mentally sound."

Both you and Mal had to stop and really consider the implications of that.

"So, Mal. Yours isn't that closely related?"

"Fifth cousins at most when they're finally born."

You sat up. "What?"

"I'm supposed to marry the third grandchild of the Hollyoak Baron. They're a well-respected family, and of snake fae descent so little aid will be needed for conception. His eldest child is in..." He had to think about what words to use. " I believe the term is 'middle school'?"

"They really planned it that far ahead?"

Mal shrugged, the movement rolling down his whole body. "I cannot complain. It gives me a very long time to learn how to be a husband before I have to be one."

"But what if you don't like them?"

"Marriage is chiefly a contract to produce heirs. I'll learn to like them, and ideally love them."

"And if you don't?"

"I'll still treat them as kindly as I can."

"And I suppose you'd take a lover."

"Maybe. They can too, as long as all the children are mine. For legal reasons," he added.

Idia, snapping out of his thoughts, tapped Mal's shoulder. "Does the Hollyoak Baron have any friends who are toad faeries?"

It was Mal's turn to sit up. "That... He could be worried that if I have favourites at school, I'll resent my betrothed for not being either of you. Or that I would attempt to break it off entirely."

"That still doesn't tell us how he found out about..." You gestured around the room.

Idia rolled his eyes. "All that would have to happen is any one student from the Valley of Thorns writing a letter home."

"But -"

"Malleus, you're not shy in your affections. At all."

"Yes I am," he bristled.

~*~*~*~

"Mal?"

"Mmph?"

"You have to put me down. I have class."

He made a slightly different mmph and shook his head.

You tried to pat his head, but your arms were securely pinned to your sides. "I know they're fantastic, but you have to stop."

He still refused to remove his face from your chest, making a noise that could have been purring if it cane from anyone who was a proper mammal.

"Mal, we're blocking traffic."

He still wasn't putting you down, instead swaying slightly in place.

A familiar long-fingered hand with dark nails reached from behind you and tugged at Mal's lapel. "Malleus, please stop, it's ten AM and everyone is staring."

Mal finally put you down - only to switch targets, wrapping his arms around Idia's waist and pulling him flush, fixing him with such a look of besotted fondness that you immediately felt like you were intruding.

"You look beautiful today."

Idia immediately burst into a ball of pink flame.

~*~*~*~

"... Perhaps I am a bit obvious."

Idia stared up at his ceiling. "You'd be at home in my otome games."

You chimed in. "What would be obvious, in your mind?"

"Very easy. I finish the paperwork declaring you Lord and Lady of the Bedchamber and have you officially ensconced as Court of Thorns royalty, ensuring you're both taken care of for the rest of your days."

"... Finish?"

"It seemed the easiest thing to do if either of you chose to visit my homeland."

You swatted his leg. "And you didn't think to ask us first?"

Mal was starting to clue in that he had once again overreached himself. "... Surprise?"

"I'm okay with it."

You glared over at Idia. "That's not the point."

"Look, if I ever get disinherited, I have a place to go. He won't make me go outside if I don't want to. I'll bring Ortho. It'll be great."

"They don't even have dial-up over there, Idia. Lilia told me he had to get all this stuff installed to play his MMOs."

Idia pointed at Mal, easy smile turned to outrage. "How dare you try and trap me!"

It honestly seemed like Mal and Idia had switched expressions, the look of worry on his face so strange. "It's a protective measure! If you're titled, people will get in trouble if they try and remove you!"

"That's still... wait." The gears were turning in your head. "If you finish that paperwork, whoever sent Mixter Toad is going to get in so much more trouble."

Everyone went silent as they considered this.

"... As soon as I get the official permission from my grandmother. She won't like it very much, but if I explain..."

Idia turned to Mal. "You were going to make your human fucktoys official members of the Court of Thorns without telling your grandmother, the queen. Who has a notable and often justified dislike of humans."

"No?"

"Mal."

"I simply prepared ahead."

"Mal."

"I - "

"Malleus." You leaned over and kissed his cheek. "You're so goddamned stupid. Love you."

He didn't say it back with words, but you got the message loud and clear.

[thehierophage]

Atu XX: The Aeon

Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law.

Correspondences:

Hebrew Letter: Shin (c) Numerical Value as Letter: 300 Numerical Value as Word: 360/1010 [nic(Shin + Yod + Nun)/ ]ic(Shin + Yod + Nun fin.)] Meaning of Letter: Tooth Thoth Card: The Aeon (Atu XX) Alternate Title: The Spirit of the Primal Fire. Tree of Life Path Association: Path 31/31-bis, links Hod to Malkuth (8 & 10)

Astrological Sign: N/A Element: Fire / (31 bis.) Spirit (BA) Egyptian Godforms: Thoum-Aesh-Neith, Horus/Mau/Kabeshunt, Tarpesheth; (as 31-bis) Asar

Geomantic Figure: Those of Fiery Triplicity (p t q)

Gemstones: Fire Opal; (as 31-bis) Black Diamond Perfumes: (as 31) Olibanum, all Fiery Odours Plants: (as 31) Red Poppy, Hibiscus, Nettle; (as 31 bis) Almond in flower Animals: (as 31) Lion (Cherub of Fire); Sphinx (if sworded and crowned)

Colors (For Key 31 / 31 bis.):

King Scale – Glowing orange scarlet / White, merging Grey

Queen Scale – Vermillion/ Deep purple (near black)

Prince Scale – Scarlet, flecked gold /  The 7 prismatic colours, the violet being outside

Princess Scale – Vermillion flecked crimson & emerald / White, red, yellow, blue, black (the latter outside)

The Secret Instruction of the Master:

Be every Act an Act of Love and Worship!

Be every Act the Fiat of a God!

Be every Act a Source of radiant Glory!

Mnemonic:

Nuit, Hadit, Ra-Hoor-Khuit! The Aeon

Of the Twin Child! Exult, o Empyrean!

Liber CCXXXI

Then also the Pyramid was builded so that the Initiation might be complete.

Holy Book Reading: Liber LXV, Ch. IV

IV

1.  O crystal heart! I the Serpent clasp Thee; I drive home mine head into the central core of Thee, O God my beloved.

2.  Even as on the resounding wind-swept heights of Mitylene some god-like woman casts aside the lyre, and with her locks aflame as an aureole, plunges into the wet heart of the creation, so I, O Lord my God!

3.  There is a beauty unspeakable in this heart of corruption, where the flowers are aflame.

4.  Ah me! but the thirst of Thy joy parches up this throat, so that I cannot sing.

5.  I will make me a little boat of my tongue, and explore the unknown rivers. It may be that the everlasting salt may turn to sweetness, and that my life may be no longer athirst.

6.  O ye that drink of the brine of your desire, ye are nigh to madness! Your torture increaseth as ye drink, yet still ye drink. Come up through the creeks to the fresh water; I shall be waiting for you with my kisses.

7.  As the bezoar-stone that is found in the belly of the cow, so is my lover among lovers.

8.  O honey boy! Bring me Thy cool limbs hither! Let us sit awhile in the orchard, until the sun go down! Let us feast on the cool grass! Bring wine, ye slaves, that the cheeks of my boy may flush red.

9.  In the garden of immortal kisses, O thou brilliant One, shine forth! Make Thy mouth an opium-poppy, that one kiss is the key to the infinite sleep and lucid, the sleep of Shi-loh-am.

10.  In my sleep I beheld the Universe like a clear crystal without one speck.

11.  There are purse-proud penniless ones that stand at the door of the tavern and prate of their feats of wine-bibbing.

12.  There are purse-proud penniless ones that stand at the door of the tavern and revile the guests.

13.  The guests dally upon couches of mother-of-pearl in the garden; the noise of the foolish men is hidden from them.

14.  Only the inn-keeper feareth lest the favour of the king be withdrawn from him.

15.  Thus spake the Magister V.V.V.V.V. unto Adonai his God, as they played together in the starlight over against the deep black pool that is in the Holy Place of the Holy House beneath the Altar of the Holiest One.

16.  But Adonai laughed, and played more languidly.

17.  Then the scribe took note, and was glad. But Adonai had no fear of the Magician and his play.

For it was Adonai who had taught all his tricks to the Magician.

18.  And the Magister entered into the play of the Magician. When the Magician laughed he laughed; all as a man should do.

19.  And Adonai said: Thou art enmeshed in the web of the Magician. This He said subtly, to try him.

20.  But the Magister gave the sign of the Magistry, and laughed back on Him: O Lord, O beloved, did these fingers relax on Thy curls, or these eyes turn away from Thine eye?

21.  And Adonai delighted in him exceedingly.

22.  Yea, O my master, thou art the beloved of the Beloved One; the Bennu Bird is set up in Philæ not in vain.

23.  I who was the priestess of Ahathoor rejoice in your love. Arise, O Nile-God, and devour the holy place of the Cow of Heaven! Let the milk of the stars be drunk up by Sebek the dweller of Nile!

24.  Arise, O serpent Apep, Thou art Adonai the beloved one! Thou art my darling and my lord, and Thy poison is sweeter than the kisses of Isis the mother of the Gods!

25.  For Thou art He! Yea, Thou shalt swallow up Asi and Asar, and the children of Ptah. Thou shalt pour forth a flood of poison to destroy the works of the Magician. Only the Destroyer shall devour Thee; Thou shalt blacken his throat, wherein his spirit abideth. Ah, serpent Apep, but I love Thee!

26.  My God! Let Thy secret fang pierce to the marrow of the little secret bone that I have kept against the Day of Vengeance of Hoor-Ra. Let Kheph-Ra sound his sharded drone! let the jackals of Day and Night howl in the wilderness of Time! let the Towers of the Universe totter, and the guardians hasten away! For my Lord hath revealed Himself as a mighty serpent, and my heart is the blood of His body.

27.  I am like a love-sick courtesan of Corinth. I have toyed with kings and captains, and made them my slaves. To-day I am the slave of the little asp of death; and who shall loosen our love?

28.  Weary, weary! saith the scribe, who shall lead me to the sight of the Rapture of my master?

29.  The body is weary and the soul is sore weary and sleep weighs down their eyelids; yet ever abides the sure consciousness of ecstasy, unknown, yet known in that its being is certain. O Lord, be my helper, and bring me to the bliss of the Beloved!

30.  I came to the house of the Beloved, and the wine was like fire that flieth with green wings through the world of waters.

31.  I felt the red lips of nature and the black lips of perfection. Like sisters they fondled me their little brother; they decked me out as a bride; they mounted me for Thy bridal chamber.

32.  They fled away at Thy coming; I was alone before Thee.

33.  I trembled at Thy coming, O my God, for Thy messenger was more terrible than the Death-star.

34.  On the threshold stood the fulminant figure of Evil, the Horror of emptiness, with his ghastly eyes like poisonous wells. He stood, and the chamber was corrupt; the air stank. He was an old and gnarled fish more hideous than the shells of Abaddon.

35.  He enveloped me with his demon tentacles; yea, the eight fears took hold upon me.

36.  But I was anointed with the right sweet oil of the Magister; I slipped from the embrace as a stone from the sling of a boy of the woodlands.

37.  I was smooth and hard as ivory; the horror gat no hold. Then at the noise of the wind of Thy coming he was dissolved away, and the abyss of the great void was unfolded before me.

38.  Across the waveless sea of eternity Thou didst ride with Thy captains and Thy hosts; with Thy chariots and horsemen and spearmen didst Thou travel through the blue.

39.  Before I saw Thee Thou wast already with me; I was smitten through by Thy marvellous spear.

40.  I was stricken as a bird by the bolt of the thunderer; I was pierced as the thief by the Lord of the Garden.

41.  O my Lord, let us sail upon the sea of blood!

42.  There is a deep taint beneath the ineffable bliss; it is the taint of generation.

43.  Yea, though the flower wave bright in the sunshine, the root is deep in the darkness of earth.

44.  Praise to thee, O beautiful dark earth, thou art the mother of a million myriads of myriads of flowers.

45.  Also I beheld my God, and the countenance of Him was a thousandfold brighter than the lightning. Yet in his heart I beheld the slow and dark One, the ancient one, the devourer of His children.

46.  In the height and the abyss, O my beautiful, there is no thing, verily, there is no thing at all, that is not altogether and perfectly fashioned for Thy delight.

47.  Light cleaveth unto Light, and filth to filth; with pride one contemneth another. But not Thou, who art all, and beyond it; who art absolved from the Division of the Shadows.

48.  O day of Eternity, let Thy wave break in foamless glory of sapphire upon the laborious coral of our making!

49.  We have made us a ring of glistening white sand, strewn wisely in the midst of the Delightful Ocean.

50.  Let the palms of brilliance flower upon our island; we shall eat of their fruit, and be glad.

51.  But for me the lustral water, the great ablution, the dissolving of the soul in that resounding abyss.

52.  I have a little son like a wanton goat; my daughter is like an unfledged eaglet; they shall get them fins, that they may swim.

53.  That they may swim, O my beloved, swim far in the warm honey of Thy being, O blessed one, O boy of beatitude!

54.  This heart of mine is girt about with the serpent that devoureth his own coils.

55.  When shall there be an end, O my darling, O when shall the Universe and the Lord thereof be utterly swallowed up?

56.  Nay! who shall devour the Infinite? who shall undo the Wrong of the Beginning?

57.  Thou criest like a white cat upon the roof of the Universe; there is none to answer Thee.

58.  Thou art like a lonely pillar in the midst of the sea; there is none to behold Thee, O Thou who beholdest all!

59.  Thou dost faint, thou dost fail, thou scribe; cried the desolate Voice; but I have filled thee with a wine whose savour thou knowest not.

60.  It shall avail to make drunken the people of the old gray sphere that rolls in the infinite Far-off; they shall lap the wine as dogs that lap the blood of a beautiful courtesan pierced through by the Spear of a swift rider through the city.

61.  I too am the Soul of the desert; thou shalt seek me yet again in the wilderness of sand.

62.  At thy right hand a great lord and a comely; at thy left hand a woman clad in gossamer and gold and having the stars in her hair. Ye shall journey far into a land of pestilence and evil; ye shall encamp in the river of a foolish city forgotten; there shall ye meet with Me.

63.  There will I make Mine habitation; as for bridal will I come bedecked and anointed; there shall the Consummation be accomplished.

64.  O my darling, I also wait for the brilliance of the hour ineffable, when the universe shall be like a girdle for the midst of the ray of our love, extending beyond the permitted end of the endless One.

65.  Then, O thou heart, will I the serpent eat thee wholly up; yea, I will eat thee wholly up.

Love is the law, love under will.

[yikesharringrove]

Oooh spin the usual narrative around and maybe Steve got some really cool tattoos on his back after high school and Billy is just being all sweet on him later and notices them and LOVES them and is all like "ride me and show me" and won't let Steve finish until he describes all his tatts on his back

Smut

-

Billy hadn’t been in Hawkins, Indiana for about three years.

He had fled pretty much as soon as he got that diploma, had packed up his car the night before, tossed his stupid cap and gown in the trunk, and just fucking left.

But here he was, ready to watch Max and the rest of her brats graduate.

He was standing, feeling weird in his best shirt, sweating under the Hawkins sun.

And there was Steve Harrington. Of course he would come for his kids, was probably gonna tear up as they made their way across the stage. He could see Steve’s big hair sitting close to the front, with Henderson’s mom, looking just the same.

He spent the entire ceremony glaring holes in the back of Steve’s head, only looked up when Maxine Elizabeth Mayfield stomped across the stage, rolling her eyes as Susan and Neil made a big to-do somewhere in the crowd.

Then went right back to staring at Harrington.

He looked good.

Like, still looked as hot as he did in high school, but he looked,

he looked like a man.

He had shot stubble along his jaw, and he looked a little more filled out.

He was waiting for Max, standing with her mother off to the side when Steve turned, and noticed Billy.

His eyes went wide, and he began making his way over.

“Jesus, Hargrove. Long time no see.” He pulled Billy into a hug, a tight, sweet good-smelling hug. “You look good, man.” He smiled brightly at Billy.

“Yeah, Harrington. You too.” And he did.

“Hey, uh, all the kids are having a little shindig at The Byers’, I’d love to catch up with you.” He rubbed down Billy’s arm, made him so much fucking hotter than the bright sun.

-

The kids’ party was a nice barbecue in the Byers’ backyard.

They were all running around, getting in food fights and being stupid idiots.

Billy can respect that, the last summer before leaving all your friends.

Billy didn’t really have friends to leave, though. Just kinda, left, one day.

He kept his eyes on Steve the whole time, watched the way he smiled and laughed with the kids, the way his eyes kept flicking back to Billy.

The sun was beginning to set when Steve came over to the stairs Billy was perched on, two beers in hand.

He gave Billy one, settling right next to him.

“So, what have you been up to? Been, what three years?” Billy had left the day he graduated, hopped in his car and didn’t stop ‘till he saw the ocean.

“Moved back home. I’m working at a garage, now.” Steve gave him another nice smile. “Saving up to maybe go to school, or get a house or something.” He shrugged, taking a swig of his beer. “What about you? Got a girlfriend?”

“Ha! No. Not really, dating right now.” A slow grin spread over Billy’s face.

“Just fuckin’?” Steve’s cheeks went red, but he didn’t deny anything. “Yeah, me too, Harrington.”

Steve laughed, pushing at his rolled up shirt sleeve.

It was just under his elbow, and Billy zeroes in on dark black ink winding down to an elegant curl on the side of his elbow.

“Any good stories?” Billy licked over his teeth.

He had stopped pretending in California, didn’t really want to here either.

“Well, I mean, there was this one guy, just absolute maniac. He had this thing about getting caught, so we’d go out to shitty bars, see how long it took before we got kicked out. We got away with a lot at most of ‘em, though.”

He watched Steve carefully, didn’t even see a twitch.

And then,

“Oh, I was kinda seeing a guy like that.” Billy’s brain shorted out. “There’s a gay bar down the block from my place in Chicago, and he’d take me out on the dance floor, and this one night, we just about fucked before someone noticed what we were doin’. It was kinda fun.”

Billy’s mind was racing, pictured pulling Steve onto a crowded dance floor, pushing his hands down his pants, fingering him, letting him rut against his thigh until he cums in his pants.

“So you, you’re gay?”

“Bi, actually. Figured that one out right away after movin’.”

“Yeah? Let your queer little flag fly?”

“It’s been fun.” Steve shrugged. Billy licked his lips, had an idea.

“Y’know, you coulda been havin’ fun way before you moved.” He leaned into Steve’s space, looking at him through his lashes.

Steve’s cheeks went red.

“It’s not too late, is it?” Billy stood up, tugging his keys out of his jeans pocket.

“I got a shitty motel room bed with your name on it, Pretty Boy.” Steve scrambled behind him, tossing himself into the passenger seat of his car.

He grinned at Billy.

-

Billy drove like a bat outta Hell, getting Steve to his motel room as fast as possible.

He led him inside, slamming Steve against the door the minute they got in.

He kissed Steve roughly, licking inside his mouth.

Steve moaned into his mouth, fumbling with the buttons on Billy’s shirt.

Billy pulled him, shoving him onto the bed, taking Steve’s shirt off in turn.

And there was the ink.

It curled down both of Steve’s arms, leading from his back.

“Holy shit.” Billy traced on of the curling tendrils. “Never begged you for a tattoo type.” Steve shrugged, his eyes flicking down to trail over Billy’s body.

“I like it.”

“Can I see?” Steve pushed on him gently, but then he got an idea. “Wait,” he grinned at Steve. “Ride me and let me see them.” Steve smiled devilishly back up at him.

He pushed Billy, swapped their positions.

He was straddling his waist, could feel how hard Billy was underneath him.

“Only if you get me all ready.”

Billy undid Steve’s belt, tearing his khakis open.

Steve sat up, awkwardly wiggling out of them to sit back down, completely naked on Billy’s lap. He took Billy’s hand, kept direct eye contact as he sucked on Billy’s fingers.

He was like a fucking pornstar, his eyes going all dark and sultry as he licked over Billy’s fingers, sucked them into his mouth.

“Jesus, Stevie. You’re so fuckin’ hot.” Steve smirked at him, pulling his fingers out of his mouth with a pop, guiding Billy’s hand around his hips, leaning forward over Billy.

“Go ahead.” Billy jostled him a little closer, rubbing his spit slick fingers over his hole.

He pushed one inside.

Steve’s eyes fluttered closed, and he moaned, so loud and pretty.

“God, wished we had done this years ago.” Billy was now pumping his finger in and out of Steve.

“I was pretty repressed back then. Don’t know if I would’ve done this.” Billy eased in another finger. Steve took him so well.

“Then, glad I got here just in time.”

“Welcome to my slutty phase.” He grinned at Billy, grinding his hips back and forth on his fingers.

Billy spread his fingers, scissoring them open and closed, getting him open. Steve squirmed a little.

“Just like,” he took Billy’s wrist, shoving his fingers in deeper. Billy curled his fingers. “Oh, yeah.” He started tossing his ass back, fucking himself on Billy’s fingers. “Fuck.”

He collapsed forward, burying his face in Billy’s neck.

Billy tried to get a look at the dark ink covering him from neck to upper ass cheek.

“I’m I’m ready.” Steve bat Billy’s hand away, turning around.

He lined up Billy’s cock, sinking down on it.

Billy’s eyes fluttered closed.

“Jesus Christ,” Billy groaned. Steve felt like Heaven.

He looked over his shoulder, tossing him a wry smile. Billy clung to his hips.

“Like what you see?”

The tattoo was beautiful.

It was an intricate monster, tall and skeletal, a face like a flower, opened up with rows and rows of horrible teeth. There appeared to be black smoke coming from behind the monster, delicate furls of something, maybe vines? They climber up Steve’s shoulders, wrapped around his arms.

It shouldn’t have been sexy, staring at this thing while Steve bounced on his cock, but it was Steve bouncing on his cock, tossing his head back and moaning.

“What do you think?”

“I think, you don’t get to cum until I tell you all my thoughts on this art.” Steve moaned loudly. “This fuckin’, fuckin’ monster. Black ink looks real pretty on you, Baby.”

Steve turned again to look over his shoulder.

“Tell me about it.”

“I mean, I shouldn’t be turned on, lookin’ at this thing. It’s like, it’s like it’s screaming at me.” Steve shuddered. Billy didn’t know if it was a good shudder or a bad one. “I can, I can see the saliva in it’s mouth.”

And then Steve stopped, panting heavily.

He pulled off of Billy, turning to face him again.

“Sorry, that’s just, you know, not the best dirty talk material.” Billy grinned at him.

In one swift motion he rolled on top of Steve, slamming his way back inside of him.

“You want good material? You want me to tell you about how often I jerked off to you in high school? Pictured how pretty your lips would look around my cock? Thought about how tight your little hole would be?”

That was apparently the stuff.

Steve’s eyes were wide, his hair wild on the pillow behind him. He was panting shallowly, just accepting what Billy was giving him.

“Thought about taking you all kindsa ways. Thought about bendin’ you over in the showers after P.E. and just fucking you right there, in front of everyone.”

Steve’s back arched beautifully, and his thighs trembled against Billy’s sides as he came, thick white spunk sticking their stomachs together.

“Yeah? That get you going? The idea of people watching, of being made my bitch?”

“Jesus, Billy, I already finished.” His cock gave a flimsy little kick as if proving his point.

“Yeah, now I’m getting myself off.” Steve laughed at him, shifting his hips to let Billy drive in deeper.

“That what get you there? Pining me down? Making me your bitch?” Billy moved a little faster, a little rougher. “Now’s your chance, Tiger. Gimme your cum, ruin me.”

Billy bit down on Steve’s neck, made him yelp as he bucked his hips, cumming inside of him.

He breathed for a minute, rolling off of Steve.

Steve stretched like a cat, wincing slightly.

“Lemme see your art again. Was a little distracted with the sight of my dick in your ass.” Steve laughed, rolling over onto his stomach.

Billy traced the monster’s mouth with light fingers.

“It’s cool.”

“Will Byers drew it. Kind of reminds me to, you know, put the past behind me. I know it’s cheesy but,” he shrugged, trailing off.

“Sometimes cheesy works.” Steve’s cheek was smushed against the pillow as he studied Billy.

“What’s it like being back in Hawkins? Must be weird coming back after being gone.”

“Nah. Nothing’s really changed. Weirder coming in blind that first time.” He traced one of the black vines. “I thought you were in Chicago?”

“I am. Only moved out there about six months ago. Didn’t get into college or anything, so I’ve been working shitty jobs, saving up some money. Thinking about running away some more. Get further away.”

“You’re always welcome in California. I got a pull out couch.” He licked over his teeth. “Or you could share my bed.”

“Are you asking me to give you sex in exchange for a place to stay?”

“You did say you’re in your slutty phase.” Steve laughed, burying his face in the pillow.

“We’ll see if I get desperate enough to get outta here to take you up on that offer.”

“You could drive back with me. Stay for awhile, fly back. See if you like it.”

High school Billy would be creaming in his pants right about now, asking Steve Harrington to run away to California with him.

Steve looked at him, his face unreadable.

“I could go for a little adventure.”

[aworldinsideaperson]

It Was always You (Chapter One)

George WeasleyxRavenclaw!OC FanFiction

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: Panic Attack! Dementors! Mentions of food, mentions of babies? That’s all I can think of but if there is anything else let me know

Story Summary: Cerridwen has known the Weasley family all of her life. Attached at the hips of Fred and George for as long as she could remember has built a strong and lasting friendship that stretches across House lines and stands the test and trials they all face. But how long until “Just Friends” turns into something more, because it always turns into something more.

Chapter Summary: The start of the school year can always be stressful, Cerridwen starts the school year with all the regular stress of starting her fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry along with the added stressors of her father’s escape from Azkaban.

A/N: This is the thing I’ve been working on for months! This is chapter one of... a lot. Thank you @izzytheninja​ for listening to me rant and talk about this story and these characters nonstop for MONTHS I hope you guys like it!

The sun shone brightly through the curtains of the Burrow’s living room. On the couch a very young dark haired woman sat with a small baby in her arms, to one side of her sat a redheaded woman in her late twenties looking down at the baby in the arms of her neighbor and friend, Elinor McNally. On the other side of Elinor was a small red haired boy with light freckles dotting his skin. The fifteen month old stood beside Elinor looking down at the bundle in her arms.

“Baby.” He said, giving Elinor a quizzical look, his small head moved a little to one side.

His mother, Molly, nodded. “Yes George, it’s a baby.”

“Would you like to hold her?” Elinor smiled, her voice soft but George nodded. “Alright well, go sit in your Mum’s lap.” Molly took George in her arms and settled him down into her lap, his arms held out wide as he looked at Elinor with his big brown eyes. She turned and placed the small bundle into George’s arms with Molly's significant support and watched as he looked down at the baby wrapped up in her blanket. “Her name is Cerridwen.”

September 1st

14 Years Later

A ripple of silence washed over the platform as Cerridwen and her family stepped onto it, whispers following them with each group they passed. She heard her last name whispered in accompaniment with her father’s first. Though she had hoped that the news wouldn’t ruin her school year as she felt all the eyes on her she was sure this was only the beginning. Hugging her mother and stepfather goodbye she moved as quickly as she could to get onto the train and away from the prying eyes of her fellow classmates and their parents that held them just a little bit tighter as they looked at her.

Cerridwen settled into a compartment and took a sleek black cat from the travel crate she’d been placed in that morning as well as a book from another small bag settling down to continue reading the muggle romance novel she’d started the morning prior. With the cat snuggled into her left side between her thigh and the wall of the compartment and her book in her right hand she began to twirl strands of her dark hair in her left as her mind wandered to her friends, hoping that even if the rest of the school would hate her she could still count on her two best friends. With her mind drifting to the two the door of her compartment slid open and two identical red haired young men peaked in.

“Cerridwen Black, you are a hard girl to find!”. George said, he and his twin walked into the compartment bags in hand.

Cerri stood to hug the two boys, “Well Georgie did you look with your eyes open or closed?” She chuckled, wrapping her arms around Fred and then George.

Fred looked to his twin then back at Cerri. “You know what, I think that might have been the problem.” They all laughed and Cerri reached up to ruffle Fred’s hair.

“You’re telling me Molly let both of you leave the house with these mops on your head?” She laughed as Fred swatted her hand away.

“We hid all the scissors.” They chuckled and the three of them settled into a comfortable conversation as the train took off from the station.

“How was the rest of your summer Cerri?” Fred asked, leaning back in his seat.

“Well you’d already know if either of you had bothered to write me this summer.”

“Hey! I wrote you once and George wrote you two very long letters.” Fred smirked, eyeing his brother as a light blush dusted his cheeks.

“Three letters from the two of you the whole time you were gone is unacceptable!” Her voice was firm but a smile spread across her face before letting out a small laugh. “Honestly though, if you couldn’t tell on the platform, the only thing worse than the last six weeks of my life is going to be every minute until they catch my dad.” The twins went silent, looking away from her. “Oh come on, I know you guys know there isn’t any sense trying to pretend it’s not happening.” George then turned his head an mumbled under his breath; “What was that George?”

He sighed and spoke again. “Mum and Dad told us we shouldn’t talk about it.”

“You know, in case it upset you or something.” Fred finished with a sympathetic look to his friend.

“I do want to talk about it though seeing as it’s all anyone else will probably talk about.” As she looked up Cerri saw a few third years looking into their compartment as they walked past but when Cerri looked at them they fled quickly.

“Alright, so talk?” Fred offered.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But you just said!”

“I know what I said! I don’t know, I just,” Her voice petered off as she

sighed. “They’ve been sending dementors to the house, and ministry officials have been by every few days to ask if we’ve seen him.”

“And, have you? Seen him I mean.” George asked in a tentative voice

“That’s the worst part, I haven’t.”

“Well he probably knows that’s the first place they’d start looking. He’s just trying to play it safe!”

“But wouldn’t it be worth the risk? To see your only child? To see me? Has he not missed me these last 12 years? Does he even remember who I am? Or,” She paused, taking a deep breath and looking down into her lap with sad eyes. “Or is he the person everyone says he is, and not the person my mum has always talked about.” Cerri’s eyes welled up with tears as she fiddled with her fingers in her lap. George slid across the seat and moved closer to her as he put his arms around Cerri he held her close, rubbing his hand up and down her arm soothingly as he closed his eyes and rested his cheek to the top of her head.

Tears gently tipped out onto her cheeks as she sniffled into George’s arms, Fred watching them awkwardly until they felt the train jerk to a stop. The air felt cold and when they looked out the window they could see frost begin to build and Cerri knew what was to come as she pulled closer to George’s side.

The lights flickered and went out, Cerri buried her face into George’s shoulder as she attempted to bring her knees closer into her body while darkness enveloped them. The cat jumped down and scurried beneath the seat; the twins could see their breath as the air became colder, their eyes trained on Cerri, her breathing becoming shallow as more tears sprung to her eyes and her worst moments pushing to the forefront of her mind; the day she was ripped from her father’s arms as he was carted off to Azkaban playing on repeat like a broken record, she heard the door slide open and she could no longer breath. She gasped for air, tears draining from her eyes as she attempted to pull in a single breath but the air around her felt solid. George attempted to tighten his grip around her but Cerri pushed away, pushing herself into the corner of the seat and bringing her knees to her chest and pulling herself into a ball as she choked on air, the scene in her brain playing over and over again, her heart fluttering inside of her chest, sobbing as her whole body shook.

Then the lights were back and the air was warm and Cerri sucked in her first breath in what, her mind, was hours as she continued to shake. George reached this hand out to place it on her knee and Fred kneeled beside her to place his hand between her shoulders, rubbing them soothingly.

“Cerri?” George coxed gently, “Cerri, can you say something?”

She shook her head, still pressed into her legs.

“Do you want us to get you some help?” Fred offered and Cerri nodded once. With that Fred jumped from her place on the floor and popped out the door as the train again began to move.

A few seconds pass, George still has his hand on Cerri’s knee as he watches her shakes become less prominent and her sniffles more defined. “Do you want me to talk?” He offered, when Cerri gave a curt nod George sighed. “I wanted to write you more this summer,” He started. “But Fred gave me a bit of a hard time, and once Bill over heard him he and Charlie started in on me a bit.” He gave a soft chuckle. “I should have written to you more anyway.” George gave an exasperated sigh just as the compartment door slid open and Fred stepped back inside followed by a tall gangly looking man with dark hair and a pale, sallow, sunken and marked face.

He knelt beside the dark haired girl and placed a hand on her back. “Dear?” He questioned softly and Cerri lifted her head, her eyes wide and mouth open as she looked at the man before her and a smile came to his lips. “Hello sweetpea.” And with that he and Cerri flung their arms around each other in a tight embrace.

The twins shared an identical look of confusion as they watched the two separate and the man had their friend a small piece of Chocolate. “That should help dear.” He offered as he stood only to sit on the bench seat across from her as she nibbled on the sweet.

“Do you two..” Fred looked between Cerri and the older man.

“Know each other?” George finished and Cerri looked over at him with her big blue eyes still brimming with tears and she nodded.

Finally able to speak she gave an explanation. “This is my uncle Remmy; he’s my,” She took in a long sharky breath as she tried to continue but the man across from her took over.

“Godfather.” He finished. “But you’ll all be calling me Professor this year.” Remus reached out to shake hands with the boys inside the compartment. The three of them watched as Cerri’s breathing evened out and her shaking began to calm. “Alright, well since you’re doing better I’m going to go check on the rest of the students.” Remus smiled and stood, patting Cerri on the head as he walked toward the door.

“Thank you Uncle Remmy.”

“It’s professor now.”

“Thank you Professor Uncle Remmy.”

Remus shook his head as a smile came to his lips and he walked out the door.

“You feeling better?”

“A bit yeah,” Cerri let out another shaky breath and opened her mouth again before being interrupted by the glass door sliding open and a head of dark curly hair popped in.

“Cerri are you alright?” Miranda mason burst her way into the compartment, brown eyes wide and filled with concern she pushed Fred out of the way, causing him to stumble and fall back into the seat mumbling something to the extent of ‘no no I wasn’t standing there’ with a roll of his eyes.

Miranda sat on the floor beside Cerri, reaching up to stroke her hair. “How could they send those things onto the train that’s completely mental! I came as soon as I was able,” She sighs and rolls her eyes before beginning to ramble. “you know how emotional and clingy Cho can get, I tried to look for you on the platform but I couldn’t find you and then I got caught in with Roger, he asked about you by the way… again, and then Cho saw us and before I knew it the compartment was full and you know trying to get away from Roger can be,”

Cerri clamped a hand over Miranda’s mouth. “Breath,” Cerri laughed lightly, “I’m alright and I know us ravenclaws are terrors at times.” She took her hand away and placed them both back in her lap and Miranda reached over to place her hand on her wrist. The girls looked at each other and smiled.

“We should go change into our robes.” Miranda stood up and walked to the door before turning back. “And hello boys.” She then turned again and slid out of the compartment.

“She is so weird.” George started.

“And oh so hot.” Added Fred.

Cerri rolled her eyes and took another deep breath before standing and fishing her robes out of her bag. “I have a very particular taste in friendships.” She spoke with a smile looking at the two in the compartment. “You should get changed while I’m gone.” And with that she walked out of the compartment to change.

The strares of the crowd on the platform had been bad; but nothing would hold a candle to the way the great hall felt with so many eyes on her. She was sure Ravenclaw table had never gotten so much attention and even trying to bury herself between Miranda and Cho, Cerri could still sense the eyes glancing and staring in her direction, their whispering and stares continued through the sorting until Dumbledore rose and silence fell over the room as he began to speak.

“Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become too befuddled by our excellent feast…

“As you will all be aware, after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the dementors of Azkaban, Who are here on Ministry of Magic business.

“They are stationed at every entrance of the grounds, and while they are with us I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises or even invisibility cloaks. It is not in the nature of a dementors to understand pleading or excuse. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the dementors.

“On a happier note, I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year. First, professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of defense against the dark arts teacher.

“As for our new appointment, well, I am sorry to tell you that professor Kettleburn, our care of magical creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his game keeping duties.

“Well, I think that is everything of importance, Let the feast begin!” Dumbledore gave his last exclamation and with a wave food filled the tables as they did every year and in a moment all felt right. Cerri could no longer feel eyes on her, Cho smiled at her from across the table as they filled their plates, Miranda spoke animatedly about how hot her summer fling had been. It was as every other welcome feast had been, full of smiles and happiness. Until Cerri heard a near shout.

“Why do you think they’ve sent dementors here?” Asked a small girl toward the end of the table.

An older Ravenclaw responded quickly. “They’re trying to catch-” The older girl, Penelope Clearwater, cut herself off; her eyes drifting down the table to Cerri before she whispered. Cerri couldn’t hear but she knew what Penelope was telling the young girl. They’re trying to catch a criminal. They’re trying to catch a fellow Ravenclaws father. They’re trying to catch HER father. They’re trying to catch Sirius Black.

[marypsue]

I cracked the last couple of questions I still had for the monster longfic I’m working on and filled another notebook, so I’m celebrating by posting another teaser for the sequel to the kids aren’t alright!

...

It starts, because of course it does, on Halloween.

If she was feeling more like herself, Barb would have some very sarcastic comments for the universe about that. About cliches, and being a little too on-the-nose, and how the original horror movie she had to live through really wasn’t good enough for a sequel.

But she’s not feeling like herself. She’s feeling cold, and shaken, and she keeps thinking she smells rot on the late-October air. Keeps thinking she can see flecks of drifting white moving in the corners of her vision.

Barb had fled fifth period biology when it had first started to seep in, an icy, somehow slimy, unwholesome cold creeping into every crack and crevice of everything yet to come. Had lost ten or fifteen minutes on the grimy tile floor of a bathroom stall trying to heave up something that wasn’t actually in her stomach, nauseated by the slick shivering inevitability of it in every direction she turned. She’s still got no idea how it hid itself from her at all, let alone so completely, so that by the time she got the first hint of a warning about it, it was already too late.

Unless – unless there were warnings, and she’d just brushed them off as paranoia, after what happened last November. After that – place. It had had the same kind of cold about it, the kind that chilled her almost feverishly, clammy and damp and sickening. Barb’s spent a full year trying to shake the memory off. If some of it hadn’t been memory –

But it doesn’t matter now. It’s too late. There’s nothing anybody can do to stop it, not anymore.

Whatever this is, it’s coming.

Nancy, loyal to a fault, had followed Barb to the bathroom, rubbed her back, and made sympathetic noises while Barb lost her lunch. Now she’s sitting on the concrete steps outside with Barb, breathing in the autumn chill, and Barb can tell she’s waiting for an explanation. Loyal to a fault, maybe, and brilliant and beautiful and determined, but one thing Nancy Wheeler’s never been is patient.

“Sorry,” Barb manages, pulling off her glasses so she can rub a hand against her left eye. The fresh air’s helping the dull throb that’s settled behind it, but the low, bright afternoon light isn’t. At least the nausea’s settled. “That – I wasn’t expecting it.”

Nancy just gives her big melty puppy-dog eyes and puts a slim hand on her arm. “Are you feeling any better now?”

Barb manages a nod.

Nancy glances back over her shoulder at the school before leaning in closer to Barb. Her voice goes hushed as she says, “I saw your nose start to bleed before you bolted. What happened?”

For a second, Barb considers lying. Blame the nosebleed on the dry air and the nausea on the pickled frogs they’d been dissecting or a bad egg salad sandwich or something. Whatever this thing is that’s coming, it’s bad. And there really, really isn’t anything anyone can do now to stop it before it starts. But if Nancy finds out – she’s going to try.

Barb doesn’t want to see what happens if Nancy tries to stop it. And not just because she’s got nothing left in her to throw up.

But then the door behind them is swinging open, with a metallic chunk and a squeal of put-upon hinges. Barb whirls around, heart in her throat even though she knows that it’s not that – that thing –

“Heard you left fifth period sick,” Jonathan Byers says, a crease of worry between his eyebrows, and Barb lets out a long sigh of breath as she relaxes. She won’t be able to keep the truth to herself now, but at least this takes it out of her hands. And – even with everything, it’s good to see him. If Barb had known what a sense of humour Jonathan’s been hiding under that hard shell of misanthropy, they might’ve been friends sooner.

The little twist of smile that crosses Jonathan’s face at that vanishes in an instant, that worry furrowing deeper. “What the hell was that?” he asks, with a piercing look at Barb’s face, settling down on the step on her other side.

Nancy shoots him a confused frown, and Jonathan bobs his head in Barb’s direction. And then they’re both looking at her, waiting for an explanation.

Barb swallows. She can still taste the bitterness of bile on the back of her tongue.

“I don’t really know,” she admits. “But it’s coming here.”

Nancy looks from Barb to Jonathan and back again. “Your vision?”

“Not a vision,” Jonathan says, before Barb can, and flashes her another twist of a smile when she turns to scowl at him.

“Something bad?” Nancy asks, her jaw starting to set in that way Barb knows means she’s got hold of an idea and she won’t let it go until she’s done something about it.

“Something weird,” Barb stresses, even though she’s pretty sure it’s already too late to change Nancy’s mind.

“You were throwing up. That sounds bad to me.”

“What sounds bad?”

Barb turns her head to look, just in time to get a faceful of Steve Harrington’s hair as he ducks down to plant one on Nancy. The smell of hairspray is overpowering. Barb coughs, leaning back out of range of the chemical assault, and collides with Jonathan’s shoulder.

Nancy makes a muffled, annoyed noise and pushes Steve off her, glowering. “Steve! This is serious.”

Steve shrugs, and claps Jonathan on the back with one hand before he settles down on the steps on Nancy’s other side. He tucks an arm around her waist, pulling her against his side, and Nancy shoots him a look that’s just a little too fond to really be annoyed before she settles against him. “Okay. It’s serious.” He leans forward a little, looking around Nancy to Barb. “Hey, you all right? Nicole said the frog dissection made you blow chunks. Don’t feel bad, there’s always one.”

“It wasn’t the dissection,” Barb says, as Nancy smacks her boyfriend in the chest with the back of one hand, not taking her eyes off Barb’s face. “It was the future.”

The joking grin drains out of Steve’s eyes before it fades off his face. “No shit? What was it?”

Barb fumbles for words, before turning a pleading look on Jonathan, who grimaces.

“I don’t really want any more of that slime in my head, either,” he says, which gets a quirked eyebrow from Steve and a thoughtful frown from Nancy.

“It – it feels like – that place,” Barb tries, which gets a look of understanding and what she thinks is a little bit of guilt out of Nancy, and a shake of the head from Steve. “The – Upside Down or whatever your kid brother called it. Where Jonathan’s brother was.” Her throat’s gone dry again, and she has to swallow before she can add, “Where that monster took me. And it’s coming here.”

“Not if we stop it,” Nancy says, after a beat, all flashing eyes and fierce determination, just like Barb had known she would.

“Nancy – we’re not going to stop it.” Barb has to look down at her interlaced fingers, away from her best friend’s face. “I ignored all the early warnings because I thought they were just bad memories, and now it’s too late. It’s coming here. Maybe we can – get rid of it, send it back, once it’s here, but I don’t know yet. And I don’t want to have to look at it again to find out.”

She can feel three pairs of eyes on her, but Barb doesn’t dare look up.

“That is bullshit,” Nancy says, at last, vehemently, and Barb puffs out a sigh. “No. I’m sorry, Barb, but I’m not buying it. If it hasn’t happened yet, then there’s still something we can do to stop it. Got to be. Right?”

“Nothing I could see. Nancy, I don’t want you getting in trouble trying to fight the inevitable, okay?”

“That’s our Nance,” Steve says, a little too fondly, tilting his head down to press a kiss to Nancy’s temple and putting both hands on her waist. Her whole face scrunches up, but she looks like she’s trying not to smile. “Always fighting the inevitable.”

“Steve Harrington, I swear to god if you try to tickle me -”

“Hadn’t even crossed my mind, right, Jonny-boy?”

When Barb looks over, Jonathan’s watching Nancy and her boyfriend with a crooked half-grin, like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to laugh. “He’s an innocent man, Nancy,” he says, with mock solemnity, and Steve breaks into a huge, shit-eating grin over Nancy’s head at Jonathan before he leans over and blows on Nancy’s exposed neck, making her shriek. He follows it with a loud, smacking kiss to the same spot, and comes up looking like the cat who got the cream.

“See? You should trust me more.”

Nancy shoves him, but she’s laughing. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington!”

Barb looks back, sees the fond, soft smile Jonathan’s turned on the two of them, and abruptly feels a million cold, dark, rotting miles away from them all.

She pushes herself to her feet, deliberately looking away from Jonathan so she won’t have to watch his face fall. “I’m feeling better now. Think I’d better go apologise to Mr. Neal for running out on his class before algebra starts. Thanks for checking on me.”

“Barb,” Nancy says, but when she tries to get up, Steve yanks her back down into his lap. “Steve!”

“Oh, oh no, I’m – I’m trying to let you go, but – it seems like – kinda seems like – you ending up in my lap is inevitable?”

“Let me go, you Neanderthal -”

The school door slams shut behind Barb, muffling their voices.

[nine-mp3]

- a one-shot inspired by OnlyOneOf’s Love going back to black hair recently

- vampire!love / jisung

- reader!witch/warlock

- word count: 1755

- warnings: blood mention, narrator only curses once, other than that it is very pg-13 

Lifting up the hatch to the roof of the cabin, you carefully move your way up to the surface. The cool night air of the forest is inviting; promising for days when you couldn't sleep, too many thoughts in mind. You walked across the ceramic tiles, careful not to slip. In one of your hands was a can of Coca-Cola, a favorite drink of the mortals in the world. And it so happened to be the same for yourself though you were a witch/warlock. As for your other hand, you held a medium-sized juice pouch with dark red liquid contained inside; it was made of primarily cranberry juice and other herbs, a known supplement for blood that only witches or warlocks can make. A very popular consumable in the supernatural market. 

You sat down at the other end of the roof, a few feet away from the trap door, and set down the juice pouch, while opening the coke. As you take a sip, the carbonation hits your nose strongly, making you wrinkle your nose for a moment. A black and tawny cat, Chestnut, leapt up from the trap door. She walks over, joining you, brushing against your arms. Though it seemed like the cat was accompanying you, she in reality was waiting for someone else. But you give the cat what she wants anyways; attention, rubbing her head generously.

It wasn't long till said person came, as they had promised to do so the other day. You barely had enough time to blink when someone appeared besides you without any warning. Most people would be shocked, or perhaps fallen off the roof. And that is speaking from personal experience, from when you first befriended Jisung. 

You eventually got used to it; being friends with a vampire simply just came with these surprise appearances. It’s one of the lesser terrifying things in the world when you think about it, considering the life you live as one kind of supernatural being as well.

Chestnut leaps out of your arms without another thought and into his, purring endlessly into his chest. Jisung laughs, happy to greet an animal who wasn't afraid of him. Hands running through fur, he hugs the cat with the same amount of affection. 

"You made it. And on time," you said, a smile reaching your face upon seeing him. 

"Did you think I wouldn't show up?" Jisung asked, his dark crimson eyes moving away from the cat to look at you. 

He idly played with Chestnut's paws as the cat rested on his lap now; it was quite scary to see a cat be in the hands of a vampire literally, wary of Jisung's long dark nails. But over time, you came to know that he was one of the gentler vampires in the world. And cats knew better than all of us; Chestnut wouldn't approach Jisung if she felt he was dangerous. 

"No. It's not an easy travel route to here, I mean," you said, setting down your can of coke to poke the straw into the juice pouch you had reserved for him.

He scooted over closer and was mindful not to jostle the cat in his lap as he did. Jisung smiled giddly, teeth and fangs showing, as if he was a child receiving sweets, and took the juice pouch from your hands to take a sip. You watched as his image changed once he took a generous glup and swallowed; he ran a hand through his black locks of hair, before leaning back against his arms. The light from the night stars made his pale skin glisten, even more than usual. It's hard not to look at him. 

And here's the confession; you thought Jisung is very beautiful. Vampires just came with good looks. He's not the first vampire you've met in your life either. Safe to say most of them are assholes and only have one goal in mind: to survive. As for him, he is both beautiful inside and outside; the supernatural transformation did not take away his ability to be kind or blurr the meaning of it. You assumed it took a great amount of willpower to do such a thing. Comparing the life of a mortal to a vampire, it was drastically different.

"Worried that I can't handle a couple of forest demons?" Jisung asked then, elbowing me playfully. 

"I guess it's something like that... anyways, do you know what day it is?" you responded.

"March 20th? Or is it one of your witchy / warlocky holidays?"

"...Witchy / warlocky holidays? Name one."

"Halloween."

"Huh? That one applies to all supernatural creatures-"

Jisung snickered, seeming to enjoy the confusion on your face. You knew he was joking then and shoved him to the side as hard as you could with your shoulder. Unfortunately, vampires have insane super strength in this world also; your physical shove did nothing to him. It might've hurt just your own shoulder in the end. The vampire, unmoving, laughs even harder.

"God, you're annoying. I'll send you across the field with a fireball if you don't shut up," you said, folding your arms and rolling your eyes in irritation.

"You like me too much to do that," Jisung responded, his smile turning into a knowing one.

In moments like these, when he was making fun of you, it was easier not to look at him out of spite. Jisung teased you relentlessly, but it was part of the friendship. You did the same back, except this moment was particularly different. The meaning of this day. The vampire notices your demeanor, the seriousness, and stops laughing.

“Aw, come on...I know what day it is, y/n. March 20th, the Spring Solstice. The anniversary of the day we first met," he said now. "I remember and...it's not something I would forget."

You didn't immediately look at Jisung again when he said that. It was because no one had ever said anything like that to you, the level of genuineness you felt from his words; it caught you off guard. Warmth had crept up on your face, paired off with the sudden acceleration of your heart. This wasn't something you can hide from a vampire though, it was more out of embarrassment to not look at him now. Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw Jisung's face become written with surprise.

It was probably also good to note that a witch’s /warlock's blood was particularly toxic to vampires, which was another reason why it wasn't hard to become friends with him in the first place; you didn't have to worry about him thinking of you as a midnight snack. 

There was a good moment of silence as you attempted to muster the courage to find a way to respond to that and of course, explain why in the world you were reacting this way. You were trying to figure out for the longest time about how you truly felt about Jisung; if you were confusing feelings of friendship for...something else. The last thing you wanted to do was to ruin it all. 

This had happened several times and before Jisung could ask any questions, you teleported away from him. And you were about to do that again. He seemed to have anticipated the move and grabbed your hands, a tight grasp, preventing you from casting the spell. This forced you to look at him, though mainly out of your own surprise. There was a concern on his face now instead, and you couldn't miss the dilation of his pupils either; this made you know, whatever you were feeling, Jisung mutually felt the same. You felt stupid for not seeing it sooner; it made sense since you did literally disappear every moment before you could see his reaction every single time. But you were only scared. 

“Sorry,” you blurted out, breaking the heavy silence. “I’ve just been confused and I don’t know what this all means and you’re like my best friend and I don’t want to lose you and you know how complicated it would be for beings like us and-”

Jisung removed one of his hands to cover your mouth, stopping you from talking. 

“Okay. Now when I remove my hand you’re going to breathe. Sound good?”

You nodded, complying with his words. When he takes his hand from over your mouth, you inhale and exhale as directed. Looking back over to Jisung, he has an assuring smile on his face. He held both your hands in his again, his thumbs gently stroking in comfort. You noted that Chestnut the cat had gone from his lap; she must’ve thought you two needed to work something out when sensing tension from you and fled. It was one less thing to worry about. 

“So, all of that...was the reason why you kept running away?” he asked. 

“Yes. It was,” you admitted, the feeling of embarrassment returning. 

Jisung laughed lightly and you saw it now, his own shyness visible. 

“It’s hard to find the words...but I honestly wondered if you’d ever really think of me that way. I know that I have this irresistible beauty-”

You rolled your eyes for the second time today at that statement, almost wanting to retract your hands, yet he again prevented you from leaving until he finished his sentence. 

“- let me finish! But we both know it’s the vampire charm, blah, blah. Anyways, what I’m really trying to say is that I do have the same feelings- I mean at least what I sense your heart is telling me and all your stinky blood rushing around like that in your veins. Since day one, if you really want this to get anymore cliche...a vampire falling for a witch/warlock, vice versa...happens once in a blue moon, doesn’t it?”

Of course, Jisung still manages to joke while making a confession out of awkwardness. Yet you couldn’t be any more happier though. You pulled your hands away from his to wrap your arms around his shoulders for a tight hug, not minding how cold he was. There was no hesitation from Jisung either, his own arms immediately moving to loop around your frame, enjoying the warmth that emitted from your body, tucking his head against yours. The two of you spent a while like that, enjoying each other’s presence, before beginning to talk again about memories, addressing the moments where you both were dodgy; overall, catching up with each other’s feelings as the night continued on.

[lady-of-the-lotus]

Xue Yang whisks a solipsistic Lan Xichen off on a murder roadtrip to raise Xiao Xingchen and Meng Yao from the grave. Because that will solve all of their problems, right? AU where Wei Wuxian never came to Yi City and Xue Yang is still running around post-canon disguised as Xiao Xingchen.

Lan Xichen can’t remember most of the day, spent pacing the Chang manor in a state of increasing desperation.

A-Yao had been back.

A-Yao had been in his arms.

A-Yao had been warm. Alive.

Whole.

And now, A-Yao is gone.

XueXiao & XiYao - Rated M - Read on AO3! Tumblr: Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3  Ch. 4 Ch. 5  Ch. 6

a bit of blood here but the violence itself isn’t incredibly graphic...I mean, it’s still rated M!

Chapter 7: bigger than my bones    

A-Yao sits up.

“A-Yao!” Lan Xichen falls to his knees beside him, staining his robes with blood from the array. “A-Yao!”

A-Yao stares up at him, dazed. He looks as if he’d just been struck over the head after having been abruptly woken from a drugged sleep.

“Er…Er-ge?” His voice is thick. “Lan Xichen?”

Lan Xichen grips his bare white shoulders. They’re warm. Solid. Real. Two arms— two. Both warm.

Solid.

Real.

A-Yao swallows hard. He’s shaking all over. “Er-ge?”

Lan Xichen whips off his outer robe and drapes it around A-Yao. “It’s me, it’s me, I’ve brought you back, I’ve brought you back—”

Xue Yang clears his throat. “Actually, you just stood there and goggled at me and passed out.”

Lan Xichen ignores him. All he can hear is A-Yao’s breathing, all he can see is A-Yao’s face. “You’re back, you’re back—”

A-Yao slumps forward, pitching against Lan Xichen’s chest. His face is warm against Lan Xichen’s throat, body completely limp against his own.

Lan Xichen turns to Xue Yang in panic. “What happened?! What happened?!”

“How should I know? The last time I did this I killed the man as soon as I confirmed I could do it. Was just trying to see if I was doing something wrong and that’s why it wasn’t working on Xiao Xingchen.”

Lan Xichen feels A-Yao’s throat. There’s a steady pulse, and the skin is warm. “Perhaps he's simply exhausted. It must take a lot out of one, being dead—”

Xue Yang laughs. It’s not a particularly nice sound. "I don't think anyone else has ever spoken those words."

Gently, Lan Xichen scoops A-Yao up into his arms and carries him to the first bedchamber he can find, laying A-Yao under the covers as if putting a newborn to sleep for the first time. He seats himself at the bedside, eyes fixed on A-Yao’s face.

“How many days will it take for those servants you let escape to reach Cloud Recesses?”

Lan Xichen barely hears Xue Yang, too intently focused on A-Yao. He’s too overwhelmed to know how to feel. Elated? Worried? Overjoyed? Terrified?

Xue Yang snaps his fingers in his ear. “Are you in there? How long do we have until those servants tell the Lan where we are?”

Lan Xichen looks up. “With no detours, on foot, two weeks.”

“Then we have that long until anyone comes after us on their swords. Unless they meet Lan cultivators on the road—”

“I told them not to speak to anyone.”

“As if they’d follow your orders if it were convenient not to?”

“I’m the clan leader.”

“Not of their clan.” Xue Yang loses interest. “Doesn’t matter. We need to get moving anyway. As soon as your dimpled little friend is on his feet, we’re out of here.” He stretches, yawning, and gives Lan Xichen a look he can't decipher. “Wake me if anything important happens.”

Lan Xichen sits at A-Yao’s bedside all night, longing to reach under the covers for his hand, hold it, feel its reassuring warmth and weight in his, but he’s too afraid that if he moves, if he touches A-Yao, A-Yao will dissipate in the moonlight pouring in through the open window.

Shortly before daybreak A-Yao stirs.

“Er-ge?”

A-Yao! Lan Xichen wants to say, but his mouth is suddenly too dry.

A-Yao sits up. “Where am I?”

“Chang Manor. Yueyang.” Lan Xichen runs his bone-dry tongue over his equally dry lips. It’s like rubbing sandpaper with sandpaper. “Xue Yang helped bring you back.”

A-Yao looks alarmed. “Xue Yang is here?”

“He helped get you back.”

“Have I any clothes?”

Lan Xichen points to Chang Ping’s clothes and goes to wait outside. His heart is beating fast again, a sick feeling in his stomach.

A-Yao doesn’t want to be back.

Or rather, if he does, he doesn’t care that Lan Xichen was the one to bring him back.

Or else—or else how could he speak so—so mundanely —

A-Yao steps out of the room. His hair is in a simple half-knot, and he’s wearing Chang Ping’s simple, if well-made, clothes and shoes. They’re too large on him, and he looks even smaller than he had when naked, almost frail.

Nothing like Jin Guangyao. Nothing like the man in Guanyin Temple. Hatless, unassuming, with no poisonous red dot between his eyes. Younger, too, as if the years of crushing responsibility, paranoia, and dread have been erased.

He looks , Lan Xichen thinks despite how illogical he knows it is, like Meng Yao.

A-Yao heads straight for the main hall, as if he remembers the manor’s layout from his one visit over fifteen years ago. He stops short when he sees Chang Ping’s body hanging from the hall's rafters, a sticky brown mass of dried blood with dozens of bloated flies feasting on its flesh. There’s far less of that flesh than Lan Xichen remembers, the body whittled down to a mere floppy, fat-coated skeleton, as if most of his flesh and bone and muscle had gone into remaking A-Yao’s fragile new body.

A-Yao looks down at the array on the floor, at the bucket, at the blood still staining Lan Xichen’s knees.

“Oh, Er-ge ,” he says.

Lan Xichen peers at him anxiously. “What is it? What happened?”

There’s sorrow in A-Yao’s large black eyes. “Did you help him do this?”

Blood pumps through Lan Xichen’s head with such force he’s afraid he might pass out again. “I—I—”

“Oh, Er-ge ,” says A-Yao again, and, his beautiful face twisted in agony, he begins to fade, rapidly growing fainter as the first touches of pink sunlight creep in through the front door.

“A-Yao!” Lan Xichen leaps forward, snatching at him, but it’s too late.

A-Yao is gone.

“Well, that didn’t go as planned.” Xue Yang stands leaning against the doorpost. He’s in his green inner robe, collar wet, as if he missed his face when splashing it with water. His glossy black hair is in a messy bun at the nape of his neck, feet bare, dark circles under his eyes. Maskless. He yawns, stretching like a sleepy cat. “He say anything interesting?”

Lan Xichen flies across the room and grabs him by the throat. “You little rat, what did you do, you promised me A-Yao back—”

Face turning purple, Xue Yang desperately tries to pry Lan Xichen’s fingers from his throat, but Lan Xichen is too strong.

“U—gh—uhg—”

Lan Xichen flings him out the door so hard he bounces twice and rolls down the discussion hall steps.

Xue Yang stands slowly, coughing raggedly. He’s a resilient little cockroach, Lan Xichen will give him that.

Lan Xichen flies down beside him. “What did you do, you repugnant little liar—”

Jiangzai appears in Xue Yang’s hand. “I brought him back!” he chokes through bared teeth. He’s bleeding from his tongue, face red with white splotches. “I swear!”

“You bastard, you lied to me—”

“I told you, I’ve never done this before! I swear I did my best! Do you think I wanted this? I need that dimpled little madman too!”

Lan Xichen hits him so hard that the delinquent cultivator is knocked flat on his back, Jiangzai falling with clang. He draws Shuoyue, but Xue Yang has Jiangzai back up, a new light in his eyes.

“Lay one more finger on me,” Xue Yang says, his voice a chilling rasp, “and it will be the last thing you ever do.”

“As if I care—”

Xue Yang spits blood. “I’m the only one who can get him back, and you know it!"

Lan Xichen freezes, then slowly sheaths his sword. “You have until tonight,” he says.

Rubbing at his bruised throat, Xue Yang grins. It’s a grin full of teeth. “Anything for you, my friend.”

* * * *

Lan Xichen can’t remember most of the day, spent pacing the manor in a state of increasing desperation.

A-Yao had been back.

A-Yao had been in his arms.

A-Yao had been warm. Alive. Whole.

And now, A-Yao is gone.

He avoids the main hall, where Xue Yang is holed up with Chang Ping's body. The ground is mere air beneath his feet, the walls and grass and trees and ceilings misty nothings. He tries to meditate but can’t. Can’t eat, can’t drink, can’t rest, can’t think of anything but A-Yao.

The way A-Yao had looked at him.

“Did you help him do this?”

And—

“Er-ge.”

That soft, sorrowful, disappointed, “Er-ge.”

Without giving Lan Xichen time to explain, without letting him explain how Chang Ping had deserved it, and how even had he not deserved it, nothing truly mattered, nothing mattered except getting A-Yao back. A-Yao, the only real thing in a world held together by spider-silk and starlight—

The moon is high in the sky when Xue Yang flings open the doors to the main hall. The day had been unseasonably warm, and a blast of rotting meat and stale blood comes gusting out around him.

“Your little friend is back,” he says shortly. “I’ll be packing. We need to leave this place.” He turns and strides off without so much as a smart remark.

A-Yao steps out of the hall, takes a few steps, and collapses heavily on the steps.

Lan Xichen opens his mouth to speak, then closes it and sits beside him.

“What did he do?” he finally asks.

A-Yao’s head jerks up as if startled. “Nothing, as far as I could make out,” he says, and his voice is the same old voice Lan Xichen remembers, the same…not casual, A-Yao was never casual, not even with him, but what passed as casual for him, the voice he had used while they lived together after he fled the Cloud Recesses. “I…I believe I will disappear every morning, to reappear at night.” He glances down at his hands. They’re lying like baby birds in his lap, shaking despite the night’s unseasonable warmth. Lan Xichen wants to reach out, cover them with both of his, but he’s too afraid to move, to do anything that might result in A-Yao drawing away with a hiss of disgust. “It...it hurts.”

Lan Xichen is crushed by a sudden wave of guilt. “My fault,” he says. “I never should have brought you back…”

“No, no, Er-ge, I—I thank you.” A-Yao darts a nervous glance around at the utter stillness of the courtyard, as if afraid his words might manifest a demon out of thin air to drag him back to his coffin with Nie Mingjue. He takes a deep breath, shudderingly, as if it’s difficult for him to fill his lungs.

On a sudden impulse Lan Xichen reaches out to brush his shoulder with the back of his hand, make sure A-Yao is in fact there, that he’s not a figment of his imagination, and A-Yao flinches at his touch, face blanching.

So Lan Xichen was right. A-Yao does not want to be here. At least not be here with—with him.

He forces himself to speak, say something, anything. To sound friendly, light, casual.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” he asks A-Yao.

A-Yao closes his eyes and tilts his head back as if to catch the moonlight, painfully, eerily beautiful in its otherworldly silver rays. “I remember everything,” he says quietly. “I wish I didn’t, but I do. But I—I feel—I feel different. Feel like…”

“You look like Meng Yao,” Lan Xichen blurts, then blushes.

A-Yao opens his eyes. “You’ve changed too, Er-ge.”

“Lan Huan,” Lan Xichen hears himself saying. He needs to hear it from A-Yao’s lips just once, just once in case he loses him again, just one time he can look back on and remember. “Lan Huan.”

“Lan Huan,” says A-Yao, and Lan Xichen wants to reach out again, grab his hand, press it to his cheek, feel his warmth as he speaks his birth name, but is too afraid that A-Yao will pull away again. “A-Huan.”

Lan Xichen clasps his hands together in his lap so that A-Yao won’t see how badly they’re trembling. Perhaps if he thinks Lan Xichen is his old calm self then he won’t realize how different Lan Xichen has become, won’t think he’s changed any more than he already knows he has, won’t be disgusted.

Won’t leave him again.

“I am sorry, A-Yao,” he hears himself saying. It sounds woefully inadequate. “I’ve spent the past year trying to…” He trails off. Trying to forget? Trying to bring him back? Moving on? Mourning?

A-Yao doesn’t seem to hear the first half. “A year?” He looks almost anxious. “Is Jin Ling well? Koi Tower is a pit of vipers… Are the Jin prospering?”

“They’re doing well.”

“He must hate me.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t hate you.”

“I would, if I were him.”

“Jin Ling is fine.” Lan Xichen doesn’t know how true that is, but lying is nothing compared to the things he’s done. “Jiang Cheng supports him. He’s doing fine…”

A-Yao stares fixedly at the ground. He really does look younger. Almost most fragile, in a way that he never fully had in the past. “And you?”

“I’ve been…fine.” He hates the sound of that word. Fine.

A-Yao bites his lip. His voice is very low, almost inaudible. “I spoke to Xue Yang.”

Lan Xichen doesn’t ask him what exactly Xue Yang told him. Better not to know. Suddenly he’s having trouble breathing, anyway, and isn’t sure he can speak at all. He feels himself drifting, and he reaches down and squeezes the stone of the steps, but it’s soft and formless beneath his palms—

“Hey. Lovebirds.” Someone nudges him from behind. Xue Yang, prodding him with Jiangzai’s scabbard. Shuanghua and its scabbard have been safely tucked away in his qiankun sleeve since he used the blade to carve up Chang Ping. He’s wearing dark blue robes he must have found in the manor. “Time to hit the road.”

“A-Yao is in no shape to travel.”

“Then maybe next time don’t let witnesses escape. I’ll bet you even gave them money. You self-righteous naive types are all alike.” With a curl of his lip, Xue Yang heads off.

A-Yao follows him with his eyes. “Perhaps you haven’t changed so much after all, Er-ge— A-Huan.”

Lan Xichen feels a surge of warmth. “Let me help you up—”

“I’m fine,” says A-Yao, struggling to his feet on his own.

The warmth fades.

Lan Xichen changes into simple rust-colored robes found in one of the manor’s rooms before following the strangely silent Xue Yang up the road to Yueyang. It’s the obvious place for anyone to look for them, but it’s the largest city for miles around and the best place to get lost in.

A-Yao stumbles once, and Lan Xichen reaches out to steady him, briefly gripping his arm before A-Yao pulls away.

He feels better after that. He hadn't been mistaken before. A-Yao is real. Is here.

But for the most part, A-Yao makes it all the way there under his own power, somehow. As resilient, in his own way, as Xue Yang.

He’s had to be.

Lan Xichen remembers A-Yao telling him about how his father had kicked him down the stairs on his fourteenth birthday, how his mother’s client had kicked him down the stairs as a child before flinging his half-naked mother out into the street, how he’d lain in bed for weeks with a concussion that almost killed him. How the client had eventually returned, had pointedly ignored his mother and started patronizing another prostitute. “Why pay for something the whole town’s already seen?” he’d laughed—

It was Meng Yao who had told him that, he remembers. Jin Guangyao had rarely spoken of his past, as if afraid speaking the words aloud, even when cloistered alone with Lan Xichen in the innermost room of his chambers, would remind the entire Koi Tower of his past, would make him less worthy of his position, would form a black stain on his forehead for all to see.

Yueyang isn’t far, but the going is slow. They reach the city at dawn.

A-Yao fades as soon as the sky begins to turn orange and pink, his face a mask of pain.

“It hurts him,” Lan Xichen says, turning to Xue Yang.

Xue Yang tosses a candied peanut in the air, catching it in his mouth. “So? What do you want me to do about it?”

Lan Xichen presses his lips into a thin line. “Anchor him here. Do something !”

“You’re the scholar. You’re the expert on ghosts.”

“On getting rid of them! You’re the one who knows how to—to work your wicked tricks—”

“Ah, the second they’re no longer working in your favor, they’re suddenly ‘wicked tricks.’ ” Xue Yang points to a dodgy-looking tavern on the street corner. “Shall we stop there for the day, rest up, and decide where to go from here? I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink.” Whistling, he strolls off towards the tavern, where he orders four bottles of wine up to their room.

“I thought you don’t drink much,” says Lan Xichen. Aside from that one time outside of Qinghe, he’s yet to see Xue Yang drink more than a cup of wine with dinner.

“Everyone has to start sometime. Besides, if you think I can put up with you and that dimpled weasel making eyes at each while sober, you are gravely mistaken.” He takes a deep drink from the wine jar. “Just go and ask the little freak straight out.”

A-Yao is clearly not “making eyes at him” in any possible way—he won’t even let him brush his arm!—but Lan Xichen doesn’t dare follow up on this. “I beg your pardon,” he says instead. “Ask him what?”

“ ‘I beg your pardon’?” Xue Yang mimics. “Just ask the dimpled little freak what he needs done.”

“Needs done?”

“Are all of you Lans this dense? This is demonic cultivation. Everything is the opposite of what you know. The thing that would normally set his spirit at rest will instead bind him to this world. No more disappearing and reappearing.”

“No more pain?”

“I can’t answer that. But I’d guess not.” Xue Yang has already finished one jar of wine. He doesn’t seem to be enjoying it—it smells like dry wine from where Lan Xichen is sitting—but he unstops the second jar and takes a sip, which goes down the wrong pipe. “Not that we can fix what’s wrong with him up here,” he adds once he’s finished coughing, tapping his head. A splatter of blood comes out with the clear white wine, as if the bite on his tongue has reopened. He looks at the blood on the floor, then gives a little laugh. “Guess being locked up for a year with an angry ghost who hates your insides isn’t a lot of fun.”

“What do you mean?”

Xue Yang doesn’t answer, just heaves a long-suffering sigh, rolls his eyes, finishes the jar of wine, and passes out—pretends to pass out?—on his bed.

Lan Xichen would have liked to spend the day pacing, but he’s too tired to do more than nap on the other bed, which is larger than usual for these kinds of inns. His nap is more of a doze than anything else, but he feels stronger when he wakes that night.

A-Yao is kneeling beside his cot.

“Er-ge?” A-Yao whispers. His face is glowing white in the starlight coming in through the window. “Oh, you’re just asleep.” His shoulders relax. “I…” He swallows and looks over his shoulder. Xue Yang is lying sprawled in an uncomfortable-looking position, four empty jars of wine on the floor beside his cot. “You weren’t waiting for me.”

A wave of crushing guilt. Lan Xichen reaches out for A-Yao’s hand, manages to brush it, be reassured of his warmth, of his reality, before A-Yao jerks away.

He continues lying there, A-Yao kneeling beside the low cot with his one arm lightly resting beside Lan Xichen. Close enough to touch him, if he wanted.

Which he clearly doesn’t.

“A-Yao,” Lan Xichen says finally, “what is the one thing tying you to this world?”

A-Yao looks slightly startled, like a baby deer asked who it thought the next Chief Cultivator should be. “I—I don’t know.”

Not me. Of course not.

“I mean, if you were a ghost, and there was one thing you needed done to set you at peace, what would that one thing be?”

A-Yao’s eyes are wide. Lan Xichen has only seen that expression once before—in Nightless City, when he hid behind him from Nie Mingjue, and he feels a sudden twinge of uncertainty.

Not that he has any reason to doubt A-Yao, he reminds himself. This is just his paranoia speaking. A-Yao has made no promises to him. A-Yao is not trying to get out of anything or manipulate him into doing anything. He had been the one to ask A-Yao what it was A-Yao wanted.

Besides, that had not been manipulation back at Nightless City, he reminds himself, no matter what Nie Mingjue had claimed. A-Yao had been ready and willing to die for the terrible things he’d been forced to do to maintain his cover…

“You want to get rid of me?” A-Yao asks. He leans forward slightly, so close Lan Xichen imagines he can feel his breath on his skin.

“Xue Yang says that it would bind you to this world.”

A-Yao glances over at Xue Yang again. “He might be right.”

“You think so?”

“I think it’s worth a try.” He rests his cheek on the rough blanket, closing his eyes. “It’s worth a try…”

Lan Xichen inches over to the other edge of the bed, glancing over at A-Yao across what feels like a vast expanse of mattress. “Are you tired, A-Yao?”

A-Yao opens his eyes at the sound of his name. “In a strange kind of way.”

Lan Xichen takes the one pillow and lays it beside him as a kind of invitation. He doesn’t say anything. They’d shared a bed many times before while hopping from one run-down inn to the other after the destruction of the Cloud Recesses, always with a pillow between them. Does A-Yao remember? Or will he think Lan Xichen is being presumptuous—

A-Yao lies down beside him.

He lies on his back, rigid, like a corpse laid out in a coffin, straight and stiff and still until he finally relaxes into something almost human. Lan Xichen thinks he can feel his body heat, feel it radiating into him, warming him, making the dark shapes of the room come into sharper focus, the cool night air almost alive in his lungs.

“If I had to choose one thing,” A-Yao finally murmurs, in a voice very unlike his usual clear, almost over-enunciated tones, “it would be to kill him.”

Suddenly Lan Xichen knows that his having remembered A-Yao’s story the night before was no coincidence. He knows exactly whom A-Yao is talking about.

“I should have done it myself long ago,” continues A-Yao in that same low, uncharacteristically natural-sounding voice, “but his death would have raised too many questions back then, and after that I had too many things keeping me busy…I owe her this much. I should have long ago…”

“What’s his name?”

“Wu Shen. He’s a merchant in Yunping City.”

“Not…” Not Nie Huaisang?

A-Yao shakes his head. “I have been unfilial.”

“Then I’ll…I’ll go to Yunping.”

He hears A-Yao swallowing hard. Something brushes his hand, very briefly, and then A-Yao pulls away as if he can’t bear to touch the man who rammed a foot of ice-cold steel through his chest.

Lan Xichen doesn’t close his eyes the rest of the night. He lies very still, watching A-Yao sleep, memorizing every flutter of eyelash, every murmur, every twitch. A-Yao seems to be plagued by nightmares, but Lan Xichen doesn’t dare wake him.

“If I had to choose one thing, it would be to kill him.”

Lan Xichen thinks back to those idle days in the Cloud Recesses all those years ago. Lan Qiren’s interminable lectures, Wei Wuxian’s question about pacifying restless spirits: “But what if the wish was to kill many people in revenge?”

Deserving of death, is Wu Shen. As much as Chang Ping had been. And if Lan Xichen were to refuse now, then Chang Ping’s extrajudicial death, his torment, would have all been for nothing. Real or not, his pain had existed in some form.

Lan Xichen raises the hand A-Yao touched, stares at it in the moonlight, presses the spot A-Yao had brushed to this cheek. He has to do this. Prove he’ll do anything to bring A-Yao back fully.

Maybe then A-Yao would forgive Lan Xichen for killing him.

* * * *

The trip to Yunping City takes a week. Fourteen times Lan Xichen is forced to watch A-Yao suffer, fourteen times he’s forced to endure Xue Yang’s intense stare as it happens.

The sun is setting when they arrive in Yunping, bloody red streaks across a sky hung with thick gray clouds. A light early-season snow is beginning to fall as they check in at a reputable inn and hurry up to their room.

“Dinner first, I think,” says Xue Yang after A-Yao has appeared. “Can’t practice demonic cultivation on an empty stomach, now, can we?”

A-Yao gives his head a little shake. He hasn’t eaten anything since he’d been brought back.

“Zewu-jun? No? Suit yourself. Meet back here in an hour, and we’ll head out.” Humming, Xue Yang disappears down the stairs.

Without a word A-Yao follows him. Lan Xichen hurries after them. With every passing night A-Yao has become more and more detached from this world, not uttering a single sound on some nights. Lan Xichen sometimes thinks A-Yao’s skin has grown translucent, at least from certain angles, as if he has begun to fade as his connection to this world weakens.

Tonight will change that.

Lan Xichen wishes Xue Yang hadn’t insisted on eating. Every second, every minute is precious—

But he silently walks beside A-Yao, following him out of the inn all the way to Guanyin Temple. It’s no longer a temple, just a pile of rubble belonging to Jin Ling as A-Yao’s next of kin. He flies A-Yao over the wall into the courtyard, waits outside the temple as A-Yao disappears into the darkness.

Lan Xichen paces the courtyard as he waits. The last time he was here—

The last time he was here —

Don’t think about that. It doesn’t matter, not anymore—

The snow is falling faster now, thick eddies of white whirling around the courtyard, wet powder melting on his hair and robes, but he barely feels the cold.

Tonight—tonight—

There’s a smear of red on A-Yao’s face when he eventually emerges, as if a tear of blood had been clumsily wiped off. A-Yao notices him looking at, reaches up, scrubs the last of the blood from his face.

“I interred her,” Lan Xichen says, very quietly, “near the Cloud Recesses. With honor.”

A-Yao gives a brief nod. No need to tell him of the concessions he’d had to make to Nie Huaisang in order to get him to release A-Yao’s mother’s body.

There would be plenty of time after tonight.

They’re about to leave the temple courtyard when Xue Yang flies over the courtyard walls and lands in front of them, grinning.

“Figured you’d be here,” he says, dumping a man on the thin layer of snow blanketing the ground. A bound, mustached man with a face that it was a crime for him to inflict on the local populace without a license. Xue Yang has placed a Lan silencing spell on him, and the man’s face is bright red with anger as he struggles to tear his lips open.

Lan Xichen darts a glance at A-Yao. A-Yao’s eyes are wide, the rest of his face frozen.

Wu Shen.

“Let’s go inside,” Xue Yang suggests, shaking the snow from his skirts and hair. “Too many eyes out here.”

Lan Xichen glances around at the walls surrounding the courtyard.

Xue Yang sighs. “There are Lan cultivators flying around the area. I saw them on my way over. Besides, it's cold and wet."

They hurry inside the temple. The ceiling is half cratered, the entire place turned upside-down, but the damage isn’t as extensive as it could have been. Humming, Xue Yang moves around the temple, lighting the surviving candles with his Wen talismans.

There, right here, that was where Lan Xichen had stabbed A-Yao—his blood remains on the stone floor; shielded from rain and snow by fallen beams—

A-Yao’s breathing is shallow. Desperate for a distraction, Lan Xichen removes the silencing spell on Wu Shen.

“—sue you all! Unhand me at once! What is the meani—”

Lan Xichen replaces the silencing spell.

“ ‘Unhand me at once’?” Xue Yang snickers. “If you don’t kill him, I will.”

Lan Xichen glances back down at Wu Shen, who’s rolling quietly towards the front door.

Xue Yang places a foot on his shoulder and shoves him down to the floor. Jiangzai is out, slung casually across his shoulders.

“He’s all yours,” he says. He sighs at the look on Lan Xichen’s face. “Our dimpled friend can’t do it, or it would just create more resentful energy,” he explains, answering a question Lan Xichen didn’t realize he had. “You know about these things from your studies, don’t you, Lianfang-zun? Tell the man.”

A-Yao ducks his head in agreement, eyes still fixed on Wu Shen.

Xue Yang prods Wu Shen’s belly with the tip of his sword. Wu Shen gives a silent eep of indignation. Strangely, he seems more angry than scared. “Better hurry, Zewu-jun, before I give it a shot myself and nab all the credit. ‘Unhand me at once’—”

A-Yao looks up for the first time. “Er-ge?”

Shuoyue is quivering in Lan Xichen’s hand. He shoud let Xue Yang do it, he knows he should, but A-Yao had asked him, asked Lan Xichen—this is his one chance to prove himself to A-Yao, be the instrument of his salvation just as he had been the instrument of his destruction—

“Take my advice,” says Xue Yang, leaning on one of the surviving columns, “and get it over with quick. Don’t try to have fun with it this time. I mean, I did my first time, but—”

Lan Xichen plunges Shuoyue through Wu Shen’s heart.

A-Yao watches impassively, then spits on the man’s corpse, a vulgar gesture Lan Xichen would never have expected from him.

Lan Xichen releases Shuoyue’s hilt, leaving the sword stuck deep in Wu Shen’s chest. His hands are shaking, and he can’t take his eyes off the corpse.

He just murdered a man in cold blood, in almost the exact spot he had murdered A-Yao—

Two wrongs to make a right. A-Yao would be back now. A-Yao would have a second chance. Wipe away what had happened here a year ago—

A-Yao turns to Lan Xichen.

“I didn’t think you would actually do it,” he says, very softly. “Xichen, I…” He grips Lan Xichen’s sword hand. “Goodbye, Xichen,” he says. Lan Xichen feels a stinging spark where A-Yao is gripping his wrist. “Find m—”

He’s gone before he can finish, diffused light flowing outward to join the flickering candlelight, a thousand sparks of gold fading for the last time.

Gone. Gone, just like that.

For good this time.

Lan Xichen stares at the spot A-Yao had been standing, at the bleeding corpse at his feet, and drags his eyes up to look at Xue Yang.

Xue Yang glances up from where he’s using Wu Shen’s blood to draw an array on the floor.

He’s grinning.

“That went well,” he says.

“Did you know?” Lan Xichen grabs Xue Yang by the throat. “Did you know he’d disappear? You told me it was different for demonic cultivation; you told me it would bind him here—”

“Better question to ask is if he knew,” Xue Yang chokes out.

“If—if—”

Xue Yang pries Lan Xichen’s nerveless fingers from his throat. “It was a test. You failed it. Gave in right away, as I understand.”

“I—”

Xue Yang is laughing as he rubs the bruises forming on his throat. Lan Xichen has torn his Xiao Xingchen mask, but Xue Yang doesn’t seem to care. He peels it off and drops it to the floor, his disarmingly boyish face mottled with pink and white. “You were the better part of him,” he sneers. “Supposed to be the better part of him. Moonlight in the darkness and all that nonsense.”

“You—you lied to me!”

“I suppose all the beads were put in the looks bucket when you were made,” Xue Yang grins, “without a lot left over for brains.” He clicks his tongue. "What else did you expect from someone as repugnant as me?"

Lan Xichen falls to his knees, palms pressed to the spot A-Yao had been standing as if he can still feel his heat on the stone tiles. The room has faded, and the old weight is crushing his limbs again, keeping him pinned to the ground, barely able to breathe. Squeezing his lungs, threatening to crack his skull, a thousand times worse than it had ever been in the Cloud Recesses. There’s a dark red spot on his hand where A-Yao had been touching him—

“Aw, how nice,” Xue Yang clucks. “He marked you as his own. Can’t decide if it’s like a dog pissing on a tree or—no, I think I’ll go with ‘dog’ on this one.”

Lan Xichen stares at the red spot. Something is pricking at his half-melted brain—something familiar—but his blood is pumping too hard to think. He’s hot, so hot —

“To help find him in the afterlife,” explains Xue Yang. He bites his lip, hesitating, then shrugs. “Better not blow it again the next time, my friend.”

Lan Xichen is on his feet, swaying slightly. “Why did you do this?”

“About time you asked.” Xue Yang removes a folded sheet of paper from his qiankun sleeve. “You really should have asked more questions, my friend.”

The missing page from the book, the one that had supposedly been destroyed in a fire.

Lan Xichen grabs it.

“The ritual calls for the corruption of a soul of equal so-called purity in order to create a proper vessel for me to call the soul into before putting it back in his body,” Xue Yang explains as Lan Xichen stares at the paper, as if knowing Lan Xichen’s thoughts are too hot and flurried to be able to read, his vision blurred. “Not exactly easy to find a person like that in this fucked-up world. Not to mention access to the Lan library and Inquiry.” He shrugs. “You were the very obvious choice. Too bad you didn’t intentionally kill those Lan cultivators when we left the Cloud Recesses or those Nie guards, or I could have saved a lot of time.”

“Are you going to kill me?” Lan Xichen can barely hear his own voice over the blood roaring in his ears.

Twice. He’s killed A-Yao here, in this same temple, twice.

And A-Yao—

He has to find him. Has to explain. Has to be explained to. About why A-Yao would prefer death over life with him—

“Kill Zewu-jun?” Xue Yang twirls a strand of hair around his finger, eyes wide and innocent. He takes the pages back. “I can’t take you down on my own. But I figure they can, which is why I invited them. Right on time, too—”

With a squelching sound Lan Xichen draws Shuoyue from Wu Shen’s corpse and flies at Xue Yang. Laughing, the hooligan easily springs out the way, and Lan Xichen is about to pull out Liebing when he hears a familiar voice from behind him.

“Clan Leader!”

He whirls around. Six high-ranking Lan cultivators have dropped through the ceiling, swords in hand, snow gusting down around them. One has his guqin out and has begun to play the Song of Clarity—

Shuoyue arcs through the air, slicing the guqin in half.

And the cultivator.

Lan Xichen hadn’t meant to kill him but he, Lan Xichen, the top-ranked cultivator of his generation, is suddenly unable to govern his own spiritual energy.

But—

Is it really such a bad thing?

They’re trying to stop him from joining A-Yao. Stop him from killing the man responsible or A-Yao’s death. They're trying to bring him back to the Cloud Recesses—

Something echoes through the blood pounding in his ears.

“Too bad you didn’t intentionally kill those Lan cultivators when we left the Cloud Recesses—”

How many other Lan cultivators has he killed?

No. He couldn’t have killed them—

But he remembers the sound of the cultivator’s bones cracking against the stone as he fled the Cloud Recesses, and something bursts inside him.

A fistful of blood spatters out past his teeth, hot on his chin, speckling the floor with red.

A dozen more Lan cultivators have appeared, flickering around him, laughing, grinning, sneering. Despising him, ridiculing him for his desperation, his weakness, for his having fallen for Xue Yang's lies not once but twice—

Coming to take him home. Coming to lock him up again—

Something inside him snaps.

Blood burns his eyes, his vision half-obscured, but he hacks and slashes at the phantasms around him. There’s not a hint of his old elegance as he spins and whirls and lunges. He’s seized by Nie-like berserker rage as he rips them apart with Shuoyue—(they’re not real, anyway)—he knows they aren’t real—they’re just specters sent to haunt him, to taunt him, inventions of his overheated brain—

(Not that it matters, now. Nothing is real, nothing matters.)

The cultivators' bodies disappear. A dozen more men and women have appeared to take their places—

A face.

Wangji? No. Wangji couldn’t be here—nobody is here—

Sorrow on Wangji’s face— not Wangji’s face—not the real Wangji, anyway; if Wangji were truly here Lan Xichen wouldn’t stand a chance, not in his current condition—

A tear slips down Wangji’s face.

A hand on his shoulder, the first solid thing he’s felt other than Shuoyue’s hilt in—in how long—?

Where is he—

The temple. Still in the temple.

He scrubs the blood from his eyes, looks down. His blue robes are soaked with blood. Fresh blood dribbles from his eyes, his mouth, from the thousand ruptures in his flesh. Blood coats the snowy floor, taints the air, blossoms beautifully on the while robes of the six Lan corpses surrounding him.

Xue Yang looks down at him, watching him bleed out. Xiao Xingchen’s spirit-trapping pouch is in one hand, the Stygian Tiger Seal shard in the other.

For once there is no smile on Xue Yang’s face. “Shall I do it, my friend? The ritual will heal any damage to your body so that he will be whole when he returns—”

Lan Xichen stabs upward with Shuoyue.

Cursing, Xue Yang falls to his knees before the kneeling clan leader, blood spraying out past his teeth, eyes wide with shock. Lan Xichen must have struck an artery, because there’s a rapidly spreading pool of red around him, the hot crimson liquid surrounding the two of them.

Instead of using his spiritual energy to heal, Xue Yang instead begins to laugh, a laugh tinged with more than a touch of hysteria.

His knife is out.

Lan Xichen stares down at the mark A-Yao branded into his wrist, barely visible through the blood.

He looks up at Xue Yang again.

Waits.

“You’re welcome,” says Xue Yang, blood spurting over his chin, and he plunges his knife deep into Lan Xichen’s breast.

Lan Xichen hears a cry from the doorway, a familiar voice.

Or maybe he just imagines it.

The metal blade is cold as it pierces his skin, enters his muscle, scrapes bone. As cold as the mountain stream outside his mother’s house—

Lan Xichen wonders if the crane is still there.

He can almost see it now. Fluffing its wet feathers in greeting as Lan Xichen glides low over the Cloud Recesses—

The faint red light of an activated array comes from far away. Dimly-glowing symbols spin around him, as if someone is pouring the last of their life essence into the array as a soft new presence envelopes Lan Xichen—

The red light fades as he circles the mountain, flies higher into the crystal-clear sky. Frigid air is all around him, caressing his bare arms and legs, but he’s wrapped in warmth, in starlight.

A growing, glowing feeling, as if he’s bigger than himself, as if he’s become something more.

Something new.

He soars higher.

The Cloud Recesses looks so small from up here. So insignificant.

Like everything else.

He’s out among the stars now. Glowing, expanding, leaving a trail of green and purple stardust behind him.

Cosmic light envelopes him.

He melts into it.

* * * *

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed.   AO3

[lovehugsandcandy]

Mermaid Magic (ColtxMC, RoD)

A/N: Apparently, if you want something done, you better do it yourself (note: not done well. just done). Based off the amazing idea where MC is a mermaid and Colt is an idiot from @escanorelyon, here. Thank you for letting me write this and for coming up with such a delicious concept. Anyone, if you want to put your own spin on the idea, I would love to see what you come up with! Tag me!

Pairing: Colt x MC, ROD

Length: ~3,000 words

Rating/Warnings: PG-13 (Swearing?)

Summary: Is the surprise that there’s a mermaid? Or is the surprise that it takes him so long to figure it all out?

The plunge is weightless, terrifyingly familiar, and his swift reentry to earth, via splash into the Pacific so deep his ears roar with the pressure, never fails to take his breath away. As Colt kicks back to the surface, salt water around him churning with every stroke, he can almost pretend it has taken his stress away, a complete distraction from the rationale behind his trip to LA.

He emerges and shakes the sea from his hair, swiping at the water dripping from his nose and tonguing at his tingling lips. It’s peaceful here, tranquil, miles away from the confrontation he knows awaits. The cliff had always been the opposite of his home life, peace instead of strife, calm instead of stress, and the trips had always been a respite from the turmoil of his youth. After being forced to make the leap time and time again, he came to see this place as a haven of solitude, where he could be alone and process whatever shithole situation he was currently in.

A sudden splash to his left makes him realize his thoughts of solitude were ill-informed.

“Hello?” He spins, water rippling around him, eyes darting around the surface to assess whatever danger lay beneath.

But it doesn’t look like danger as a face slowly comes into view, chestnut hair slowly rising through the sea. She blinks at him, eyes glowing almost otherworldly in the sunlight, and she purses her lips. She looks wary, scared, as if he was the one who impinged on her peaceful time. “Hi.”

“How the hell did you get here?” He cranes his neck up at the cliff; there were no other cars there when he arrived and he sure as hell would have heard someone else diving into the water. And it’s inaccessible from the sides, cliff towering over them, steep rock jutting out in treacherous points, against which the Pacific crashed in rhythmic pulses booming into the sea air. “This is my spot.”

Her plush lips fall open. “Your spot?” she sputters incredulously. “Are you kidding me?”

“I’ve been coming here since I was eight.”

“I’ve been coming here forever. You don’t own this spot, you utter buffoon!” She swims closer, glaring at him, and, had he less experience in dealing with the rage of others, he might have stood down; however, her anger only fuels his.

“How did you even get here? I was swimming here first.”

“You don’t own the sea and you were not here first!” Her movements are choppy with anger as she gets closer, but Colt doesn’t retreat, treading water and glaring defiantly back. “I’ve been here…” Her diatribe fades into the surf as he notices that she is being followed, graceful teal fin swimming after her, flapping over the water.

“Umm, “ he interrupts, “something’s behind you.”

“What?” She spins, and the tail does too, swirling around her, too close to be a normal fish. It doesn’t look like a normal anything, swaying just over the waves, matching her every motion movement-for-movement.

His heart stops and, before he can think, he ducks under the water, eyes stinging as he forces them open. It has to be a trick of the light, some weird fever dream. Maybe he died leaping from the cliff. Maybe he isn’t even in LA, instead still lying in his dorm room having talked himself out of this adventure of paternal reunion. Because anything would make more sense than what he was seeing. 

For, in front of his eyes, there is a fucking tail where her legs should be, swirling gracefully and leaving tiny ripples in its wake. The scales glisten, catching the sunlight filtering through the ocean, and it is strangely compelling: unnatural, alien, gorgeous. He opens his mouth and swallows a gulp of salt water, sputtering to the surface to hack and cough and try to get air to his lungs.

When he can finally see again, she is gaping at him, eyes wide, breath coming in uncertain pants. “Wait…” she murmurs weakly, “I can explain-”

“Oh my God.” He can barely believe his eyes but, at the terrified look on her face, he realizes he wasn’t seeing things. “You’re a mermaid.”

~~~~~

The plan had been simple: get to LA, go to the sideshow, have the requisite argument with his father, probably punctuated by a screaming match at the garage, and then fight his way into the crew and prove his worth.

But everything had changed after his leap into the water, when he had met a goddamned mermaid, a fucking sea creature, floating outside the PCH like she belonged in California, not in the dusty tomes of some piece of shit folklore.

Make no mistake, he still wanted to fight his way back into his father’s good graces (assuming Teppei possessed good grace, Colt would be content with begrudging acceptance instead). But now, he was desperate to solve the mystery. He had begged her to stay, voice dipping into embarrassingly weak pleas, but she had panicked and leapt into the waves, tail flitting behind her in a merry farewell as she fled.

He couldn’t let that be the last time he saw her; he had to talk to her again. He was so distracted, wandering around the sideshow with his mind on the sea, that he almost walked straight into a couple, wandering the cars side-by-side and meandering through the crowd.

“Watch where you’re going,” he shot out, halfheartedly, more instinct than conscious thought. 

“You watch where you’re going.” The kid turned, swinging his hair out of his eyes to size Colt up. He rolled his eyes. Did this punk really want to start something here? Of all places?

The girl in front of him stops short as well but, as soon as she turns, she flinches, damp hair settling in haphazard waves around her fine features as she gawks at him, eyes wide. They gleam, large in her face, an almost otherworldly glow from the dance floor strobe lights, and she looks terrified. Colt scoffs; he might rough up her man, but he wouldn’t lay hands on this tiny brunette. He’s not that much of a prick.

She stares at him and takes a deep breath, exhaling loudly as she studies him. He blinks back, waiting, never dropping the gaze. Finally, she speaks. “Ummm....Hi?”

With the sour intensity painting her features, he expected a better opening line. “What? Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?” She’s still staring at him in terror, eyes glassy, face pale. 

“What? Ummm… you don’t…” Her tongue pokes out to wet her trembling lips and he follows the movement before remembering the asshole perched next to her. “You don’t know who I am?”

“Sorry,” he scoffs, already bored. “I don’t pay attention to every single pair of losers that has the audacity to get in my way.” He shakes his head and stalks off, mind already returning to the waves and the shadow of a tail underneath the surface.

~~~~~ 

He is absolutely, completely, world-endingly obsessed.

Colt is no stranger to obsession (motorcycles, video games, reclaiming his place as rightful heir through fists and sweat and blood) but his desperate need to see the mermaid is bordering on insanity. He leaps from the cliff, again and again and again, varying hour of day and day of week based on a detailed spreadsheet he drafted to give him the best probability to see her again. The middle of the day is fruitless, depths of the sea a brilliant reprieve from the sun sweltering overhead, but he doesn’t even notice, feeling only dismay when she doesn’t appear. The middle of the night is no better, moon lighting a solemn path through the trees as its glow echoes softly over the lapping waves, but still no mermaid.

He is starting to lose hope, despair seeping its way into his heart, when he spies a familiar head of hair in the evening sunset.

“It’s you,” he breathes and swims closer, drawn to her in a way that he doesn’t want to examine too hard.

“Hi.”

“I’ve been trying to find you, I’ve been coming here almost every day.”

She rolls her eyes. “Is that where you’ve been going?”

“What?”

“When you take off….” she opens her mouth and closes it again, eyes scrutinizing him as if he were a puzzle to be deciphered and conquered. “This is where you go?”

“What?”

“When you…” she trails off before shaking her head, dismissively. “Never mind. You are an idiot.”

He ignores the insult as he takes her in, the water tracing gentle paths down her features, the tail glowing luminescent behind her, reflecting the waning rays of sun dipping over the ocean. “Who are you? How did you get here? Where are you from?”

“You are really curious about me.” She smiles sanguinely and her tail flips behind her. Colt feels lightheaded.

“You have no idea.” 

“I’m from LA obviously,” she giggles and the tilt of her laugh pulls him closer, legs kicking out until he is treading water directly in front of her.

“What, a secret coven of mermaids hidden in the Hills?”

She laughs and his fingers twitch, aching to reach out and touch the droplet heavy on her cheek. “Covens are for witches.”

“Do you mean the mythical kind? Do they also live in LA? Or are you referring to the lady who runs the bodega on 92nd cuz she is a real witch?”

She laughs again and he would do anything, absolutely anything, to hear the sound again. “I’m sure you may have instigated something there.”

“Maybe…” The smile still plays on her lips; there is so much he wants to ask, so much he needs to know. 

“I can’t believe there are mermaids. Damn.” A sudden thought hits him; he considered this his secret but maybe it wasn’t just his. “Does anyone else know about you?”

“What? I guess…My dad…” She looks past him, gazing far away at something only she can see. “He knows but he…he doesn’t understand what it’s like. What I’m like.”

Her eyes suddenly water with something more painful than the sea and Colt is stuck by the fact that even mermaids have human problems. “Yeah, I get that.”

“I know you do, Colt.”

“Wait...How did you know my name?”

She rolls her eyes, and the sadness vanishes, replaced by the familiar teasing grin, the sense that she knows some secret that he can’t comprehend. “You are a goddamn…It’s mermaid magic, Colt. Mermaid magic.”

~~~~~~

He spends less and less time at the shop.

He’s sure his father is delighted, but he’s also sure Pop harbors secret, unnecessary concerns about his whereabouts. The crew seems the same as when he was shipped out east, as bumbling as ever, but now when he desperately escapes from the crowd, it is with purpose. He yearns to catch yet another glimpse of the girl, tail fleeting in the water, smirk on her face as they banter back and forth.

He isn’t interested in anything but the mermaid. 

Except maybe one thing. One person.

The girl from the sideshow, Ellie, has somehow integrated herself into the crew. At first, he was doubtful, wondering how a careful valedictorian could fit in with a group of hardened thieves, but she seemed to integrate seamlessly into the group, her intelligence a compliment to a crew that was severely lacking.

And apparently even he found it hard to reject her, her toughness and drive reminding him of himself. She’s fast on her feet; they have traded almost infinite barbs, various interchanges and insults, her quick wit keeping pace even with his own. He's also caught her glancing his way, peeking glances from across the shop, interest and confusion painting her face. He looks at her as well, more than he would admit, and he tells himself it is solely curiosity. Sure, she's attractive, but she's also rejecting her cozy home for a shadowed existence in a crew on the edge. Of course, he's curious.

Which is how he finds himself escorting her to her driver’s test which, obviously, she passed with flying colors. Beaming with pride, she insists on using her new paper permit to drive them back to the garage, hands confidently gripping the steering wheel as he watches the highway fly by.

“You know you’re an idiot, right?”

He gapes at her. The insult is familiar; it’s far from the first time she called him that, but it seems rather random this time. “Pot, meet kettle,” he huffs.

“You are just so dumb.” She only smiles wider. “You don’t see what’s right in front of your face.”

“I see another idiot who is gonna waste twenty minutes if she misses the off-ramp.”

”Whatever,” she sighs and dutifully puts her blinker on, plush lips pursing at him. “You think you’re so smart, with your stealthy getaways, your little secret. You’re nowhere near as smart as you think you are.”

“What are you-” His voice fades away as his mind races. How did she know-? She couldn’t know. Right? He hasn’t told anyone about the mermaid, about his trips to the cliff, about flying though the air to find her, waiting for him, wet skin glowing in the setting sun.

“I know you have a secret…” She glances over then quickly averts her eyes to the road. “Maybe I do, too.”

“Ha. Your secret is that you got mixed up in a life of crime.”

“And your secret is even more insane.”

He stares at her, trying to figure out what exactly she knows, but she only winks at him, throwing her car in park. “What are you…” he trails off.

“What’s the one thing you want more than anything?” Her lips play in a sly smirk and he can’t help but incline his head towards her. Colt wants, God, he wants all the time. He is a perpetual raging ball of want, desperate for things he can’t have-access to his father’s life, a place in the crew, the trust of a mermaid-all of it swirling in his mind but, right now, the one thing he wants is to lean even closer, to capture Ellie’s lips in his own and bite at her snarky smile until his name on her lips is the only thing she herself wants.

He inhales, sharp, the desire pulsing through him sharp as a splash of water over his face. He is suddenly as cold as the sea.

“You’ve almost got it,” she inches closer and her eyes positively gleam, brilliantly reflecting the dashboard indicators, and she gives him one last smirk before pulling away, springing out of the seat and slamming the door behind her.

Now that she has moved, Colt feels like he can finally breathe, air rushing into his lungs. It smells slightly of salt, as if the sea breeze had made it all the way to Gramercy Park, even through the closed windows. Strange.

~~~~~

“You are an idiot,” she sings, voice high over the surf.

They splash together in the waves and he peppers the mermaid with questions, most of which she answers in between diving under the surf to pop up behind him, hair swirling as he stutters. Every time they meet up, he has more questions, and she indulges him with a small grin. He has learned that unicorns don’t exist, she has never seen an actual sea monster, and, apparently, her overprotective father is so worried about a human finding out about her that he used to put a GPS locator on her phone.

“But how do you have a phone?”

“Idiot!!! How are you so-urgh!” She blows bubbles through full lips and laughs. “Everyone has a phone.”

“What, you just have a pocket in your tail?” He dives, reaching out to slowly caress the scales under the surface. They are smooth to the touch, like sea glass or river rocks, glowing incandescent in the water. She swats at him, tail flicking playfully, and he swims after it, giving chase until his lungs burn and he needs to emerge, sucking in oxygen.

“I told you, I’m not always a mermaid.”

“So you go to school? Like normal?”

She blinks slowly at him, eyes imploring. “I’m in high school. A senior. I’m gonna be the valedictorian of my class.”

“That’s why you think I’m an idiot, because you’re a nerdy smartypants.”

She rolls her eyes. “Nope. Not why I think you’re an idiot, Colt.”

“Will I ever get to see you as a human?”

“Ummm…” She swallows, hard, and a flash of terror crosses her face. His stomach swoops, deja vu hinting at something in his mind, but she continues before he can examine the sensation. “I don’t know. Can I trust you?”

“I’ve kept your secret so far.”

“You have,” she avers with certainty, nodding to herself. “You have.” She looks around at the ocean, deep in thought and chewing on her lips, before she looks at him resolutely. “Ok. Let’s do this.”

“Now?”

She nods again and ducks under the waves, swimming out in front of him, slowly, so his clumsy human feet can follow her to a shadowy cove hidden in the cliff side. He walks out onto a small strip of sand as she pulls herself up, arms propelling her forward as her tail glistens and picks up damp granules of warm sand.

“Wait here. Close your eyes.”

“Fine,” he huffs but dutifully listens, hearing her slither behind a rock. There’s a quiet rustling, movement, fabric draping over wet skin; he can almost imagine her behind the rock, skin wet from the ocean, salt clinging to every inch his tongue could chase. He swallows the flash of heat down.

“Ok.” Her voice trembles and she sounds intensely nervous, though Colt can’t figure out why. “You can open your eyes.”

He does and, standing right in front of him, the mermaid is clad in jeans and a tank top. Her dark hair is sopping wet as she rings it out, strands tangling over her fingers and draping over her shoulder. He steps closer in shock. “You have legs!”

She blinks at him again, dumbfounded. “You are as dumb as these rocks.”

He is about to retort when she reaches down to grasp a sweatshirt, sliding the familiar blue over her head, rocking back on her heels and crossing her arms right below where the white lettering spells out LANGSTON. 

“Holy shit-”

“I told you you were an idiot.”

“I am so stupid. I am so fucking stupid.”

“Wow, we actually agree on something.” She smiles and he can’t stop his fingers from reaching out to grasp her hips, Ellie’s human hips.

When she kisses him, she tastes like the sea.

.

Tags

Perma @desireepow-1986 @leelee10898 @emichelle @client-327 @choicesgremlin @brightpinkpeppercorn @thequeenofcronuts @lilyofchoices @choicesarehard

ROD @omgjasminesimone @mskaneko @lovemychoices

Colt

@deimosensblog @alegria1580   @thefarrari @moonlit-girl-wonder @going-down-downtown@soniadotalves @jolietmaraud @flowerpowell@poeticscolt @zaira-oh-zaira @akrenich @sibella-plays-choices​  @maxwellsquidsuit  @liamzigmichael4ever​ @octobereighth @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction

[shy-violet-soul]

The Hunting Incident

Summary: Alpine brings home a gift. It doesn’t go over well, with anyone - including the ‘gift’.  Characters: Alpine the cat, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanov, Tony Stark Rating: E for everyone Warnings: allusions to injury to animal; bad language words; snort-inducing giggles

A/N: I have watched this video no less than 6 times, and each time, I laugh until my tummy hurts. Then, I wondered - what would Bucky do in this situation? (already cackling as I turn to the keyboard…)

Beta’d by the incomparable @pinknerdpanda​ & the stupendous @thesassywallflower​. Thank you, darlings!

This is a work of fiction based upon characters owned by the MCU. Please do not copy without my written permission.

((A/N 2: you need to watch this video first!))

When 5:00am had glared at him with red, beady eyes from the clock on his night stand, Bucky refused. Nope. Run with Steve was cancelled. The punk could damn well run by himself. Or get Sam. Yeah, please wake up Sam. Memories of Steve coming to wake him up were hazy, and must have involved a dagger because his third favorite was currently embedded in the bedroom door frame. However, he had a sparring appointment at 7:00am with Natasha - she wouldn’t wait, and her coming to wake him up would involve creative forms of punishment. So much NOPE. At 6:45am, Bucky shuffled his way into the common area kitchen, still rubbing his eyes, when a cheerful little mert caught his attention. He blinked sleepily at the scene before him.

Nat. Natasha Romanov. Black Widow. Natalia Romanova. Assassin. Decked out in her black, weaponized glory.

Alpine. The Cat. Pain in His Ass. Ignorer of Expensive Cat Food. Shedder upon Stark Suits. Sitting proudly in his fluffy white innocence.

Blue-eyed gazes stared back at the other, and Bucky didn’t know what the hell was going on.

“What the hell is going on?”

Nat didn’t so much as blink.

“Your cat.”

“Yeah, he’s my cat.” A beat passed. “Wait - what did he do, first? He might be Sam’s cat.”

One eyebrow arched primly at him as Natasha pointed to the floor just passed Alpine and a bit beyond Bucky’s line of sight. He leaned to the right, peering around the feline, and tried to catch his jaw before it hit the floor.

A brown, limp, slightly damp but very dead duck lay on Tony’s clean kitchen floor. 

While the two assassins watched, Alpine sauntered over and lolled out luxuriously beside his kill, the tip of his tail twitching happily.

“Oh, my...oh, my God,” Bucky croaked out, his hand coming up to cover his mouth. “Oh, shit!”

“Mmmhmm.”

“I mean - seriously?!” he hissed at the cat, who simply blinked impassively. “Alpine, you stupid cat!” His heart thudded sickly with dread. “How did he kill it?”

“I don’t know.” Natasha hadn’t moved, just stood there with crossed arms, one eyebrow still raised, gaze clearly unimpressed.

“How did he get it IN here?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is it...is it really dead?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, hell, Nat, what do you know?” Bucky demanded as he craned a lean closer to try and see if the bird was breathing.

“I know you better get that thing out of here before Tony shows up.”

“Mert.”

“Shut up, Alpine!” Bucky barked, dragging his hands through his hair. Down the hall, the elevator dinged, echoes of star-spangled voices echoing their way. Bucky felt his throat sticky-squeeze shut as Steve and Sam appeared, sweaty and wheezing. Well, Sam was wheezing. Wimp.

Both soldiers came to a halt as Bucky snapped to attention, trying and failing to look innocent.

“You okay, Buck?” 

“Uuuhhh…”

Ding. Shuffle, shuffle, and Clint appeared. The other four watched him slog to the coffee maker, pull a silly straw out of thin air, and claim the nearly-full pot as his own. After four long drags on his straw, he finally noticed everyone staring at Bucky.

“What’s up, Buck?”

“Meow.” Steve just barely kept himself from flinching. 

“What’s he doing up here?”

“Uuuhhh…” Bucky couldn’t come up with anything else to say.

Sam clapped a hand on Steve’s shoulder, grinning at him. “Captain America. Afraid of a cat.”

“I’m not afraid,” Steve was quick to assert. “He just...hates me. With his claws.” 

“Why’s there a dead duck on the floor?” Heads swiveled at Clint’s query, staring at the vanquished fowl in question. Sam and Steve immediately stepped closer, and Bucky’s eyes closed as he waited…

“Did Alpine kill that bird?” Steve whispered, horrified.

Sam cackled, bent over and hands propped on his knees. “Your cat’s an assassin, man!”

“Shut up, birdbrain! Steve, get me a blanket,” Bucky implored as he also turned to look at the poor critter. Steve turned huge eyes to his friend.

“Where?”

“I don’t know, get a towel or something so I can cover it up!”

Steve strangled out another question. Bucky hissed out another answer. Sam kept on cackling. Clint sat on the counter with his feet in a bar stool, still slurping his coffee, and Nat leaned against the counter near him, watching the scene with a near-bored expression.

And then the dead duck woke up.

With a frantic flap of his wings, he floundered his way off the floor. Alpine leaped after him with abandon, claws outstretched gleefully. Steve screamed like a little girl when the duck flailed in his direction, bouncing off of Sam before diving to the floor. Bucky zigzagged after the bird, then after Alpine, then back after the bird before he tripped tail over tea kettle over super soldier legs. Alpine, great hunter extraordinaire, was not about to be denied - he somersaulted into Clint’s lap in a vain attempt to recapture his prey. Clint, unprepared for the attack, tried to dodge out of the way and dodged himself right off the counter in a tidal wave of coffee.

Natasha simply blinked.

The resurrected fowl took shelter on the other side of the couch, and Bucky scrambled after him.

“Somebody hold onto that stupid cat!” Silently, the Winter Soldier skulked onto the couch and peered over the edge.

“Quack.”

“I know, man. Bad day. Sorry my cat tried to kill you.” He looked over his shoulder. Sam was snickering his way to him, Clint was cussing about the coffee, and Steve was hiding behind a loveseat. Punk. End of the line, my ass.

“Sam, help me out here.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Speak bird to him. You’re family.”

Sam’s eyes rolled so hard, Bucky was convinced the man saw the inside of his own skull.

“Still with the bird jokes. Ha ha.”

“Quack quack.” 

“Yeah, yeah, quack quack yourself. Hang onto your tail feathers, dude, we’re trying,” Sam groused. “We need to catch him first.”

Bucky mulled that over before Clint chimed in.

“We’ve still got that electrified net in the armory.”

Murder Glare arrowed onto the archer. “Jesus, Barton, we’re trying to free him, not flambe him!”

“Get a laundry basket,” Nat suggested blandly. The duck waddled nervously away from the voices, quacking as he went before he flapped his way onto the arm of Tony’s recliner closest to the window.

“Oh, God, get it off Tony’s chair!” Bucky begged. Sam snorted, snagging a nearby throw pillow and stepping closer to wave it in the duck’s direction.

“Come on, Donald. Off the furniture, man. Thank you, I knew you were a gentleman,” he praised when the bird hopped off in alarm at the motion. Bucky’s head hurt, his gears were spinning so frantically. His gaze hurried around the room and landed on Clint; the fool was using his straw to try and sip the spilled coffee off the tile.

“Barton! Why aren’t you over here helping? You’re part bird!”

Straw gurgling sadly, Clint tossed it away with a curse. “Hawkeye, Barnes. Hawk. I’m up high, not some puddle dweller.”

Ding. The familiar sound of an Iron Man suit came clomping down the hall. Tony appeared, battle-ready, and raised one hand, repulsor firing up, and Bucky knew he was truly screwed.

“Where’s the unfriendly?!”

“Quackquackquack!” 

The formerly-dead duck, freshly frightened by the sound of the repulsor, rushed desperately at the window, crashing into the glass. Iron Man didn’t hesitate and fired, sending shards exploding in all directions. Wind from outside the tower gusted inward, swirling papers and other sundry items up and away. Formerly-dead duck fled the chaos happily, kamikaze-diving out the now open window.

Sam belly laughed at the poor bird’s relieved quacking, waving a cheerful good-bye after him. “You go, duck! Go find you a pretty lady, hatch you a bunch of babies, and watch out for Alpine the Assassin!”

The face plate on Tony’s suit opened up, his harassed gaze taking in the carnage. Bucky sprawled face down on the floor, liberally sprinkled with bits of glass. Steve peeking out from behind a loveseat. Clint laying in a puddle of coffee clutching an empty pot. And that stupid cat was sitting on the Weiner Soldier’s ass. 

Natasha just looked at him, leaning casually against the counter.

“What the hell was Darkwing Duck doing here? FRIDAY said there was an attack.”

A sad, pathetic little groan croaked from Bucky, blending with a pleased little meow from Satan’s hairball. Natasha smirked as she strolled over to Bucky, scratching behind Alpine’s ears as she cooed to him like a proud mama.

“A hunting incident, Tony. Just a hunting incident.”