#i should go find some ao3 fics of those two. maybe ill feel better then

[transfemnessie]

wow that yuri really can doomed

[animereaderinsertwriter]

Cupbearer (Eren/Reader)

Part III

Part I

Part II

Part IV (in progress)

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (im watching you, if you see this, begone!), vampire!eren, hunter!reader, fem!reader, smut, some amount of predator/prey dynamics but only kinda?? there is also a significant age difference but only cos eren is immortal and all that jazz. we're all adults here. there will eventually be smut.... and do i really need to say that there's gonna be blood in a vampire fic?

Description: A story of falling in love in 4 parts.

Eren is a bad man (well, a bad Creature) who has done bad things. When he meets the great-great-great granddaughter of one of his former friends in his favorite blood bar, however, he thinks it might not matter so much what happened in the past, so long as he can make the future something worth living to see.

Ao3 link here

After that night, it became increasingly hard for (Y/N) to leave, and for Eren to let her do so.

Something between them had changed. There were moments— when Eren would press feather-light kisses against her forehead, when he would casually leave a cup of her favorite tea where she would find it— where (Y/N) felt as though her heart might burst. It was all the little things that baffled her, all the ways in which he seemed to understand exactly how she felt; it was as though he knew her more than she knew herself. On the mornings that she would wake in his bed, sleepy and sticky and wholly content, (Y/N) wondered what it would be like to have this life forever.

Other days— on days like today— she was reminded exactly why that could never be, and it broke her heart.

Today, they had planned a romantic dinner in the park, an evening under the stars. It was supposed to be something special, a little getaway just for the two of them; they had wanted to leave as soon as (Y/N) was relieved from her patrol, so Eren had moved her things to his place, hoping that they could leave together from there for their evening alone.

In and of itself, that was fine… but when (Y/N) came in, covered head-to-toe in viscous Creature blood, Eren was furious.

“And you call me a monster,” he growled, looking her up and down with hate in his eyes. “I can’t believe you.”

He stood from his seat on the sofa, and (Y/N) began to back away, still wary from the fight she had narrowly escaped from unscathed. Her every instinct told her that she should run, fire a round of silver bullets into his chest, but she steeled herself, doing neither.

“It’s not my fault— they were attacking a civilian,” she told him as he stalked towards her, his face twisted into a horrific scowl. “I tried to stop them— tried to find out what was going on— but then they came at me with their claws, and I was left with no choice.”

“There is always a choice,” he snarled, and it was then that anger filled (Y/N) from the soles of her feet to the crown of her head. "They were probably terrified of you— how could you possibly blame them for lashing out?"

(Y/N) grit her teeth.

“This, from the man who thought genocide was his only option to the same problem?”

Eren made a low, warning sound in the back of his throat, but (Y/N) pressed on.

“You would rather me have died?” she demanded, stepping into his space. “Would it have pleased you more for my body to bleed out on the pavement, ripped to shreds by an aggressive werewolf? Would you even care, or would you just find the next blood bag and move on with your life?”

“Maybe so,” he shot back, “Then I wouldn’t have to deal with your insufferable mouth.”

That stung— but if there was one thing (Y/N) knew how to do, it was to strike back twice as hard as she had been struck.

“Fine then,” she said, turning on her heel. “I won’t bother you any longer. I’ll go out and find someone who actually wants my company, someone who’ll fuck me good and proper over the counter at some hole-in-the-wall bar over on Easy Street, someone younger, with a nicer cock and less fucking baggage— ”

She didn’t get to finish the sentence, or even walk a single step further— Eren grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to him, his fist painfully tight against her scalp.

“Wanna say that again, to my face?” he asked, tilting her head back.

“I’ll go find someone else to fuck me,” she spat, struggling in vain against him. “I’ll spread my legs for the next available schmuck in the closest bar I can find, so you can hear me scream his name and not yours.”

It was a low blow, to threaten a vampire’s claim on something they had previously assumed had belonged to them, but (Y/N) didn’t care. She had almost died today, and she’d be damned if she was going to take shit from anyone about what she had to do to survive. If Eren wanted a fight, she would damn sure give him one.

“Like hell you will,” he told her, pulling her head back so that she had to strain to remain standing. “You’re mine. Flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood— you are my Companion.”

"I belong to no one!"

Those words ripped from her throat and echoed throughout the empty house, and it was then that Eren stopped, looking at her with calculation in his gaze.

"You're right," he said, releasing her hair. "No mortal can serve two masters, lest they love one and despise the other; an archaic religious concept, but an accurate one nonetheless. You've made it abundantly clear where your loyalty lies. I was a fool for thinking otherwise."

(Y/N) began to tremble. "Eren, what are you saying?"

"I release you from our pact," he replied coldly, his eyes so dull and lifeless that it sent a chill down her spine. "No longer are you bound to be my wine-press— I free you from me."

"Eren—"

"Go," he commanded, and (Y/N) felt terribly, horribly empty.

Once, he would have told her to come freely, go safely, and leave something of the happiness she brought him; now, he gave her a cold dismissal, and it frightened her more than she was willing to admit. Still, she went, feeling hollow and used, and she didn't bother to shut the door behind her as she turned to walk home, weary from the day and sick from fighting.

***

Armin had lived for a very long time, but even so, he had yet to meet anyone so foul of temper as Eren when the Hunger was on him.

"Eren, you have to feed."

The vampire, as ill in health as in temper, glared weakly at him. "I'm not hungry."

"But you are Hungry, and don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about. Look, if this is about that girl—"

"I told you not to speak of her!"

Ah, so it was about her. By the looks of him, it had been two weeks since Eren had fed; Armin would bet that he hadn't seen her in the same amount of time.

"If I need to, I'll drag her here to make up with you myself," said Armin testily, "I refuse to watch my best friend starve himself because he refuses to feed on anyone else."

"You will not touch her."

Armin rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything further. He just patted Eren's arm in farewell and set about finding the little lady who was the root cause of his current consternation.

It took longer than Armin had anticipated to find the young woman who had, for all intents and purposes, completely unraveled Eren's composure; her scent, while thick and memorable in Eren's apartment, was hard to track otherwise. Armin spent two hours just wandering the city while trying to catch a breath of it here or there, and when he finally did manage to catch a whiff of her scent and follow it to her, he understood exactly why it had been so hard to track her down.

The girl was a Hunter, of all things.

When Armin found her, she was knee-deep in sewage, her knife embedded to the hilt in the skull of what appeared to be some species of winged reptile. Armin, having been a tad desperate and not actually having been expecting to find anything when he lifted the lid to the man-hole on 32nd and Main, was surprised to say the least— and when (Y/N) ripped her knife free and readjusted her stance into a defensive one directed at him, his surprise turned to intrigue.

“Er, hello there,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “I don’t suppose you’ll take my word for it that I just want to chat, will you?”

Curiously, the words gave the woman pause. She relaxed her stance ever-so-slightly, and then her eyes lit up with recognition.

“Armin Arlert?” she queried, craning her neck up to see him. “Is that you?”

This one grows curiouser and curiouser, he thought, but responded affirmatively.

“Can you give me a bit, then?” she asked, kicking the corpse of the Creature she’d just killed. “I’m not exactly fit for company. Perhaps we could meet later for a discussion over tea?”

“I’m afraid it’s urgent,” he said as she knelt to decapitate her prey— likely for proof of victory. “I think you know why I’m here, so you understand that time is of the essence.”

She didn’t look up at him as she replied.

“If this is about Eren, then I don’t have time to talk.”

Her tone was hard, bitter, and matter-of-fact, and it reminded Armin so much of Jean that it hurt… but just like Jean, Armin would bet that she could be won over by appealing to her inherent sense of human decency

“He’s suffering (Y/N),” he said, awkwardly crouching above the manhole so that she could better see the truth written in his eyes. “He won’t feed.”

“That’s hardly my problem.”

And oh, how well Armin knew that state of mind. If there was one thing Eren Jaeger knew how to do, it was push away the people who loved him most. Armin had dealt with that particularly lovely quirk of his for centuries, and it never got easier to deal with no matter how much time passed. If anything, it got more difficult the older they both got.

“When you’re the solution to a problem, you become a part of it whether you like it or not,” Armin replied, patient and understanding. “He cares for you.”

(Y/N) looked up at him then, fury in her eyes.

“He hurt me.”

Armin shrugged. “He hurts everyone he cares about. It’s just who he is. Nothing comes for free— least of all the love and loyalty of someone as old and as powerful as Eren.”

“Your heart may be toughened to his meanness,” she told him, the head of the creature she’d slain in her hands, “But mine is not, and I don’t like him well enough to willfully remain for him to use as an emotional punching bag.”

At that, Armin couldn’t help but let loose a wry grin.

“No,” he said, “I should think not; but I do think you love him well enough to make sure he doesn’t starve himself to death because he can’t have you.”

(Y/N) was silent for a long moment, then she crossed her arms.

“I won’t come crawling to him. He’s going to have to come to me.”

Armin grimaced. He wasn’t looking forward to that conversation.

“Is that at all negotiable?”

(Y/N) shook her head. “Absolutely not.”

Well, there was nothing for it.

“And you will let him feed if he comes to you?”

(Y/N) thought, then nodded. “If he proves himself deserving.”

Armin couldn't help himself; he laughed. Eren might have met his match in this one.

"Very well. I'll work my magic, and you work yours."

She nodded and bade him farewell, but before Armin left, he paused.

"Hey, (Y/N)?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

With that, he left her, ready to take Eren by the ear and throw him at her if he had to.

***

(Y/N)'s heart was racing as she opened the door, knowing good and well who would be behind it.

After her little talk with Armin— and the near heart attack he had given her in the process— she had called in to Zeke and told him she needed to go home to deal with an emergency. A replacement for her patrols had been sent, and she had come home to wash the grim from her skin, making herself as presentable as possible with the time she had. (Y/N) was worried, so worried, that the filth she had been wading in earlier would have left a lingering stench, or even that it had affected the taste of her; she had scrubbed and scrubbed until her skin was raw, hoping to erase every last remnant of her day from her skin…but as it turned out, she needn't have bothered.

Two, three, four hours later, and Eren hadn't shown— it was only now, right at the six hour mark, that he had decided to come to her.

Needless to say, (Y/N) was… less than pleased, but when she opened the door to find Eren pale and drawn, with dark circles beneath his eyes, her heart softened ever-so-slightly. It seemed that Armin was right; he had been suffering.

"You look like shit," she told him quietly, opening her door widely to let him in.

"I assure you, I feel worse," Eren grumbled, but stepped in as she closed the door behind him.

For a long, awkward moment, they just looked at each other, silent and unsure. It was unsettling how unlike himself Eren seemed; he was almost soft when he looked at her, and (Y/N) didn't know how to feel about it. Eventually, though, like two opposite ends of a magnet, they were drawn together, and Eren brushed a piece of hair back from her face.

"Hi," he said, his voice low and rough. (Y/N) caught his hand in hers before it could fall from her hair, and she pressed it against her chest, keeping it trapped there, touching the skin above her beating heart.

"Hey."

They watched each other a moment more before the dam broke between them, and they both spoke at once.

"I'm sorry."

A shared grin, a shy laugh— and then (Y/N) said what they both were thinking.

"You need to feed first, and talk later," she told him, her hand still clasped in his. "You're not off the hook, but I doubt we can have any real conversation with you like this."

Eren nodded gratefully, tugging at her wrist— his usual biting spot— but (Y/N) shook her head, indicating her neck. The thickest, richest blood, she knew, would come from there; and if there was ever a time to be generous with the placement of Eren's bite, she figured that it would be now.

The worst of it was over quickly. There was a brief sting at the intrusion of razor-sharp fangs, and then the vaguely uncomfortable feeling of having something poking down into places that decidedly should not be poked at all, but then (Y/N) quickly eased into the rhythm of the act, focusing wholly on the way Eren's lips felt against her skin. In a few moments, she would become pleasantly light-headed, and then Eren would pull away and look at her like she'd hung the stars. Oh, how she'd missed that look! (Y/N) found herself longing for it even before she quite realized it.

And then, without warning, a vision came, and (Y/N) was swept into another world entirely.

The evening sky rolled endlessly out towards the horizon; it seemed to go on forever, sparkling with more stars than (Y/N) had ever seen before. The full moon was so bright that it cast the whole world in what seemed like silver sunlight, and (Y/N) wondered how anyone could sleep on a night such as this. It was far too beautiful an experience to miss.

Alongside her— alongside Eren, through whose eyes she saw the world— strode Armin and two older-looking cadets who she recognized from previous memories as Reiner and Berthold. Eren was feeling anxious over something, and Reiner and Berthold were… well, they were kind. Reiner especially seemed to be like an older brother, and Eren admired him.

"You'll do just fine tomorrow," said Reiner, placing a large, warm hand on Eren's shoulder. "I'm certain of it."

The memory ended, and (Y/N) came back to herself as Eren's tongue laved over the wounds his fangs had left in her neck, sealing them.

"See anything?" he asked, his breath warm against her skin, and (Y/N) nodded.

"You loved them, too," she said softly, remembering the fondness Eren had felt as though it had been her own. "You loved the Hunters that tried to take everything from you, and— and I think they loved you, too."

Eren pulled away from her, and it was then that she saw the tears shining in his eyes.

"Yes," he replied, his voice broken. "We were children. How could we not love each other as God intended? Hate was never in our nature; it was an inheritance that we couldn't escape."

He paused for a moment, then spoke again.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," he told her, cupping her cheek in his hand. "I lost my temper. I forget— I forget that you're not them."

And (Y/N) understood. She understood that no matter how many centuries passed, there would be wounds that just wouldn't heal for Eren. He would lash out at things that wouldn't make sense to anyone who hadn't experienced the horrors of war as he had. Suddenly, she felt petty for having lashed out as she had, and guilt threatened to rise up and choke her.

"You're forgiven," she replied, leaning into his touch. "It takes two to tango— I shouldn't have baited you like I did. I knew how badly that would hurt you, and that's exactly why I said it."

At that, Eren cracked a grin.

"I expect nothing less from a Kirschtein. Your grandfather would have punched me square in the jaw— and as big as that bastard got when we were older, he probably would have put me on my ass."

(Y/N) couldn't help but laugh, and Eren joined her, their combined joy swelling until there was nothing else in the world but their happiness.

How they started kissing, neither one of them would be able to say afterwards, but in the grand scheme of things, it hardly mattered. Their love was too large to contain, too much to hold back— and it was love, (Y/N) realized, though she hadn't quite put words to it yet. She loved Eren Jaeger, a Creature, a monster, as much as her grandfather before her had and more. She loved him with a desperation that felt like being knocked over by an ocean wave and plunged into depths where her feet no longer touched the sand. She loved him more than she had ever loved anyone before.

And, as he placed her gently on her bed that was barely big enough for two, divesting himself of his shirt above her, (Y/N) thought that maybe she didn't mind it so much as long as he loved her in return.

"I missed you," said Eren, dropping kisses by her ear as he unhooked her bra. "I missed this."

"Me too," she gasped as his mouth wandered to her nipple, her hands fisting in his hair. "Oh, God, I missed you too."

The time for words was soon gone, however; Eren's sinful, sinful mouth traveled lower and lower until he was kissing at the insides of her thighs, parting them to access what lay between, and (Y/N) threw her head back as he spread her open with his hands and sucked brazenly at her clit.

How long he spent there, worshipping her sex, (Y/N) had no idea; all she knew was that she came once from his mouth on her and a second time from his fingers inside her, and when he finally, mercifully withdrew, she was broken down to the simplest parts of herself; there was nothing left but an affection so deep that it threatened to overtake her if she didn't let it out, and she did the only thing she knew to do to release the overwhelming pressure that was building in her chest as Eren pushed his big, veiny cock into her.

She told him what she should have said a long time ago.

"Oh, Eren," she gasped as his cockhead shoved deep inside her. "I love you."

As soon as the words came out of her mouth, Eren went unnaturally still. He looked at her with pupils blown wide inside emerald eyes, and his fangs slightly distended; in any other situation, (Y/N) might have laughed at how surprised he seemed, but it seemed as though she were frozen in time, unable to do anything but stare earnestly up at them, hoping he understood how much she cared for him.

"You… what?"

"I love you," she repeated, her body moving without her permission to roll her hips up into him, moving his cock even further inside her. "Please, Eren, I need—"

He cut her off with a forceful, bruising kiss, and his hips started making slow, deep thrusts inside her, her legs hiked up over his shoulders.

"Again," he said against her lips."Say it again."

"I love you."

Another thrust or two, a hand circling her wounded throat.

"Again."

"I love you, Eren."

"Again."

This time, it was only a whisper.

"I love you," she said, and Eren began fucking her in earnest.

"You are so fucking beautiful," he told her as he thrust hard and deep inside her. "You're every man's dream, a nirvana the damned such as myself were never meant to reach. (Y/N), you are everything, and I—"

He seemed to choke on the words, and (Y/N) kissed him as he tried to regain his composure.

"I don't deserve you," he said, shaking with the force of their passion. "I don't deserve your love."

It's not about deserving, she wanted to say, It never was, but then she was coming again, her climax contracting her walls around her lover, and it was all she could do to remain conscious as Eren fucked her relentlessly through it all, chasing his own high.

It was only later, after a shower and something to eat that they finally spoke again. They were back in bed, and Eren's arm was wrapped around her, as though he were afraid to let her go for even a moment; truthfully, (Y/N) thought he was asleep, but then his breath tickled her ear as he said,

"I love you, angel."

And that, (Y/N) thought, had been worth it all, in the end.

[ashdoesfandomarchieved]

I hear you like prompts? Well I am well known for. The List. *unrolls scroll* sick fic, jealousy, fighting suitors, hostage situation, hypothermia, use of safe word, spa day, ruddiger v Hugo

AO3

It’s midday by the time Hugo finally deems his companions worthy of his company.

They’ve been staying at a small estate in Galcrest, with some friends of Nuru’s family who were kind enough to put them up for the weekend.

The last few trials have been grueling--if Varian’s being completely honest--what with the cave of mirrors and the hall of memories haunting Nuru’s nights and Yong’s smiles and Varian’s everything. So a break in what their gang was affectionately nicknaming “the air kingdom” seemed in order.

The first few days go by fine--Nuru drags Hugo out to the marketplace, talking shop about swords and armory to her heart's content, while Varian and Yong scour the countryside and set off fireworks in the clear skies.

It’s exactly what their group needs to get back on track--a little rest and a lot of free time to relax and get to know one another better.

Then Hugo shows up for breakfast one morning and all of Varians’ optimism flies out the window.

“Whoa, are you sick?” Yong says, popping his head out of the pantry. “You look terrible.”

Hugo sends him an irritated glance. “No,” he says and then immediately sneezes. “I’m not sick,” he says, peevishly when they all continue staring at him in silence. His voice sounds like he’s been gargling rocks.

Nuru places a hand on his flushed forehead that he immediately swats off. “You’re burning up,” she says with a frown. “Did you leave your window open last night?”

“More likely that he got it from town,” Varian mutters. He seems to remember a kindly merchant lamenting about his daughter coming down with a spring cold. Dammit Hugo.

“I’m going to heat up some soup,” Yong says decisively, already making a bee-line for the cupboards.

“I don’t need soup.” Hugo literally cannot sound any more like a sulky pre-teen right now. “What I need is for you all to stop ganging up on me.”

“What you need is a doctor,” Nuru mutters.

Hugo turns his scowl on her.

“How about this,” Varian says, once again playing diplomat between his two best friends, “Hugo eats the soup, and Nuru doesn’t make him see a doctor.

Hugo and Nuru continue to eye each other for a moment before Hugo mutters out an annoyed “fine.”

Varian has a feeling that today is going to be an exercise in not dumping his best friends.

____

About three hours into the “Hugo is pretending that he’s not sick” fiasco, Nuru has decided she’s had enough.

“I’m taking Yong to town,” she says, wrapping a scarf around the younger boy. “If the idiot won’t see a doctor, than I’m at least going to get him some medicine.”

Varian, who was the person who had to deal with Hugo throwing up in the bathroom half the afternoon, privately agrees.

“Is there anything I should do?” he asks, not exactly sure what to do with sick people. His dad never got sick and Rapunzel had about a million physicians taking care of her whenever she contracted some illness or another.

“Try and keep him in bed. I also left some tea leaves in the kitchen, if he feels up to drinking anything.” Nuru adds, halfway out the door. “I know you want to kill him most of the time, but it would be most inconvenient to hide his body.”

Varian rolls his eyes. “I’ll do my best,” he says, dryly.

He doesn’t actually plan to antagonize Hugo--let alone kill him. Despite the fact that the blond still manages to annoy him on a daily basis, he’s also kinda friends with the guy now.

They’ve fallen into an easy companionship with mutual banter and annoyed antics that usually have their friends up in arms, but it works for them.

Besides, the guy just looked far too pathetic, dry heaving in the sink this morning, to give him a hard time.

A few minutes after Nuru and Yong leave, Varian makes his way to the room Hugo is staying in. At first glance, the place appears empty--bed unmade, small sitting area absent of life--but after a quick scan of the large room, Varian finds him.

Hugo sits on the window seat. His legs are drawn up under him and his head rests against the wall. The breeze filtering through the open window brushes his hair back from his forehead and makes the open collar of his white, unbuttoned shirt, fluttering slightly.

Something about the sight of him--flushed, exhausted, unguarded--twists something in Varian’s stomach.

“Hey,” he says, voice cracking too loudly in the quiet.

Hugo doesn’t turn his head, but his shoulder inch up slightly. “Hey,” he says back, eyes glued to something outside the window.

Varians’ eyes narrow in on the gooseflesh raised on the skin of his neck. With a sigh, he snatches a blanket off the bed and goes to Hugo, draping it over his shoulders.

Hugo turns his head at that, blinking up at him owlishly through round glasses. “Oh,” he says, like he’s just noticing Varian’s here. Which is concerning. “Thanks.”

Varian shrugs a shoulder, throwing himself on the other side of the window seat. It’s a large enough space--or maybe Varian’s just short--for the two of them to sit without touching. Not that Varian’s thinking of touching him.

An uneasy silence--on Varian’s part, at least--falls over them as Hugo continues to stare blankly out the window. His usually brilliant green eyes are glazed over, enhancing the flush that’s spread from his face, down his to his neck.

He sniffs a couple of times, nose wrinkling.

“Nuru wants you to drink some tea, I think,” Varian says, tapping his fingers against his knee nervously. “I can go get some for you if you wa-”

“It’s fine.” Hugo’s voice carries no intonation. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” Varian says, in a very measured voice. The last thing he wants to do is upset the guy right now.

Hugo’s eyes shut. His lips press together tightly, but not out of anger. He looks like he’s just barely holding it together, and Varian doesn’t understand why.

Or, maybe he does. Varian used to be very open and free with his emotions, but over the past few years--since everything in Corona with his dad, the amber, Cass--Varian has gotten used to putting up shields around his heart. Vulnerability was a very scary thing, especially with those you cared about.

Hugo didn’t seem to be the type of person who liked to show weakness.

A particularly chilling breeze brushes through the window. It’s enough that even Varian is shivering at it’s touch.

He reaches out slowly and gently pulls the blanket around Hugo tighter. Hugo’s eyes open at that, watching Varian with an unreadable emotion.

“I think you should lie down,” Varian says.

Hugo shakes his head. “Can’t.”

“Hugo-”

“The bed’s too soft,” Hugo exhales, sounding embarrassed.

Something in Varian’s stomach twists painfully. The year after prison hadn’t been easy, but most of it was just getting used to being able to walk around without having the entirety of Corona’s military breathing down your neck. The other half was getting used to how soft his threadbare bed in Olde Corona felt.

Varian gets it. He doesn’t know Hugo’s story yet, but he gets it.

“Lie down here then,” he coaxes, one hand coming up to cup his neck. It’s warm--too warm. The worry simmering in Varian’s gut flares.

“What, on you?” Hugo snorts, sounding--if for a moment--a bit like himself.

Varian feels his own face flush about as badly as Hugo’s face is right now. “Would it make you feel more comfortable?” he asks, voice pitching up high.

Hugo’s stares at him hazily, the fever most likely getting in the way of his higher processing powers. “Yeah,” he says, looking not quite all there. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

And then he flops face first into Varian’s lap.

Varian lets out a surprised laugh, one hand going to his hair. “Okay then,” he says, trying to calm the rapid beating of his heart.

“Mmphf.”

Varian snorts, coaxing Hugo into rolling over so that he can at least breathe. “Why do I put up with you?” he mutters, more amused than exasperated for once.

Hugo blinks a couple of times at him. “It’s weird,” he says at last. “You’re weird. I’ve never had someone who’s wanted to put up with me before.”

Varian’s hopes Hugo can’t tell his heart just shattered into about a million pieces. “Well, you do now,” he says, easing Hugo’s glasses off his face and delicately placing them on the nearby end table. “You have three people, in fact, who are willing to put up with your dumb ass.”

The blond squints up at him. “But you were first. That’s-” he gestures gracelessly with one hand, “-that’s important.”

Varian smooths his hair back from his forehead, mentally taking note of the amount of heat coming off his flushed skin. “Yeah?”

“Mmm.” Hugo’s eyes close. “You keep doing that. Surprising me.”

“Well someone has to knock your ego down a few notches.”

A ghost of a grin. His eyes open again, almost as if he’s worried Varian has left in the few seconds he stopped looking.

“Hugo, go to sleep,” Varian chides. He runs his fingers through Hugo’s hair again, hoping it will draw him into sleep. “I can continue to surprise you tomorrow.”

“You’re surprising me now,” Hugo mumbles, but he’s becoming more and more pliant with each pet of Varian’s fingers through his hair. “Don’t go anywhere, ‘kay?”

Varian swallows. “I’ll be right here when you wake up,” he promises. “Now go to sleep.”

Hugo’s eyes finally drop shut, breath evening out. Varian leans back against the wall, one hand in the blond’s hair. The weight of the other boy is both grounding and sends strange flutterings to Varian’s stomach that he doesn’t understand.

Hugo lets out a small snore in his sleep. It’s adorable. Hugo’s adorable, Varian realizes, much to his horror.

Another breezes brushes in through the window, setting the white, transparent curtains afloat in the air. Hugo shivers slightly, curling up closer around Varian.

His face is pressed somewhere between his thigh and stomach, one arm wrapped loosely around his torso. Varian runs his fingers through Hugo’s soft hair again and comes to two realizations simultaneously.

Varian has feelings for Hugo. Positive feelings. Fluffy, mushy, fluttering feelings that reside somewhere between his aching heart and the butterflies in his stomach and Varian wants to cry or throw up or maybe kiss the dumb blond until those feelings settle themselves.

Hugo might--a very, very tentative might, because Varian isn’t great at reading other people at the best of times--just might have feelings for Varian. Maybe.

That’s important, he had said, eyes glazed, pupils dilated, lips parted. You keep doing that. Surprising me.

Varian shuts his eyes. Yeah, he’s totally and utterly fucked.

[2manyfandoms2count]

I love you (not) - Chapter 13

It's only fitting that chapter 13 of this fic would be the one that's most inspired by Taylor Swift (big Fearless vibes in here)... Tackling two prompts of @marichatmay in one, Locked in and oops. Spoiler: they finally kiss! Hope you enjoy the chapter! xx

First | Previous | AO3 | Next

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Chapter 13: In which it's finally timeTM

“Marinette,” Chat Noir said softly, reluctantly loosening their embrace.

She hummed in response, eyes still closed, and he tucked a strand of her already damp hair behind her ear. The skies were darkening, if it was even possible, the rain turning into a thick curtain around them, yet her soft smile was like a ray of sunshine illuminating them both. He was torn between staying there, basking in her light, and bursting their bubble. The thought that she could catch a cold crossed his mind, though, and he knew where his duty lied.

“Marinette, we should find shelter, you’ll be sick,” he insisted gently.

“I’m on holiday for the next two months, I have plenty of time to be ill,” she replied. She didn’t care if it wasn’t entirely true. She needed to be operational enough to fight any Akumas that sprouted up, but at that moment, those concerns felt like they were miles away.

Chat Noir paused. Even if he didn’t like the thought of her being bedridden, she did have a point.

“But you’ll ruin your pretty dress,” he whispered in her ear.

Marinette sighed against his chest. She really wanted to answer that she didn’t care, that she’d dance with him anywhere, whatever was going on around them, whatever she was wearing, but also especially in her best dress.  She was starting to feel a little cold, though, and she couldn’t let her partner get ill himself.

“Fine.” She looked up at him, bluebell eyes wide and beautiful as a stroke of lightning lit up the sky, and Chat forgot how to breathe for a second.

The clap of thunder that swiftly followed made him gasp like he’d literally been drowning in her eyes, and he averted his gaze.

“Hang on tight,” he warned her, bending down slightly to reach behind her knees to lift her in a bridal carry.

As he strode purposefully towards the lift, Marinette wrapped her arms around his neck to steady herself, and she realised that if he were to turn his head ever so slightly towards her, then there would only be a couple of centimetres between their lips. Rain streaming down her face, she was reminded of the dream she’d had about kissing Chat Noir. Would it be so bad to know what it would feel like, without the rush of an Akuma battle? She blushed at the thought, and buried her face against his shoulder to conceal her fluster.

Chat Noir had barely, tentatively, laid his head on the top of hers when the lift doors opened with a “ding”. He straightened up rigidly and walked inside, before delicately setting her down on one side of the cabin and walking to the other.

Marinette leaned back against the panel, stealing a glance at him as he pressed the restaurant button. The elevator got into motion; she pouted when he didn’t return to her side.

But maybe she’d gotten ahead of herself. Maybe the dancing, the rain, and the late night visits had gotten to her head, shining a new light on their, all in all, platonic all but in name relationship.

Before she could start dissecting why she felt disappointed, the lift stopped abruptly, making her lose her balance slightly. She tensed up, feeling that something wasn’t right.

Opposite her, Chat was also on high alert, ears perked up as he tried to pick up on any sound that could indicate the cause of the stall. When the cries for help and the crashing reached them, their gazes met, and they could read the panic in each other’s eyes at the thought that it wasn’t just the storm.

Chat pounced on the elevator button panel and punched all of them, hoping it would kickstart the machine, but unfortunately not even the alarm button responded.

“ Mince ,” they both swore under their breath.

Chat’s whipped his head towards her, and he flashed her a small smile.

“It’s okay, Marinette, don’t worry. Ladybug will get us out of here.”

“You really think so?” Marinette was trying very hard not to let her panic flood her as she looked around for any possible exit. Wasn’t there supposed to be a trap door on elevator roofs? Or could they try prying the doors open, and see where to go from there? Actually, why use force when they had a much more powerful weapon? “Can’t you maybe cataclysm the doors or something?”

“I’m afraid it doesn’t mix well with technology,” he grimaced. “I don’t want to risk hurting you. But I trust Ladybug, she’ll find a way.”

“I trust you too, Chat Noir,” she replied automatically. Her eyes widened when she realised how he could interpret her words, but Chat looked lost in his thoughts. And slightly… waxy, for some reason?

“Chat, are you-” Her question was interrupted by the lights flickering, and then turning off.

Chat’s gulp was extremely audible in the penumbra.

“Are you okay?” She asked cautiously.

“Absolutely peachy.” He might have been able to distract her from his strained voice with one of those smiles he was so good at putting on, but in the darkness, it was all she could focus on.

“Kitty.” She tried to channel all of her warning glance into her words.

“It’s nothing. I might be a tiny bit claw-strophobic, but don’t mind me.”

Marinette heard him slide down against the panel, his breathing accelerating.

“It’s alright, Chat, I’m here.” She knew he wouldn’t get exactly what she meant, and she definitely wasn’t going to clarify, but she hoped her soothing tone would be enough to help him keep calm.

Just in case, though, she scrambled to her knees and felt around so she could kneel in front of him. Her eyes were starting to be accustomed to the darkness; she saw his eyes sparkling in front of her. Leaning forward, she placed both of her hands on his shoulders, and hoped he saw her better than she saw him. She didn't care what was going on on the other side of the doors; her Chaton needed her, and he was her priority. They could figure things out later.

“I’m here, I promise it’s going to be alright,” she whispered again, and he nodded slowly, unconvinced. “I’m guessing this isn’t the first time it’s happened; what do you usually do when you’re feeling like this? Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I generally try to think happy thoughts,” he whispered back.

“Happy thoughts. Got it. Give me an example.”

“I like eating chouquettes?” He said tentatively.

“Okay… They are really good pastries. You know what, I think I saw some around at the party; think about how you can stuff your face full with them when we get out.”

“That would be nice.” He nodded a little more vigorously.

“Okay, what else?”

“I… I kind of like it when Ladybug scratches my chin,” he said almost shyly.

“You’re a real cat, you know that?” She smiled fondly. “Erm… would you like me to do that now?”

“Nah, it’s kind of a thing between me and her.”

“Okay, then.” She bit back a smile. “Keep going.”

“I really like receiving presents from you. They’re always so thoughtful.” His breathing was slowing down, his voice more assured.

“I really enjoy making them for you.” She blushed.

“Thank you.” He brought one of his hands to cover hers.

“You’re very welcome.”

Marinette stared into Chat Noir’s eyes, only averting her gaze and clearing her throat when she felt that she was getting a little too close to his face. She couldn’t help it. It was like being pulled in by gravity. “Anything else?”

He shook his head.

“Come on, Chat, there must be more good thoughts in that head of yours.” She ruffled his hair. “How does… How do the pictures of you and… Ladybug after the fight against Oblivio make you feel?” It was a daring question. She regretted it almost instantly, his lack of answer at first the most deafening of sounds.

“I used to really enjoy looking at them,” he said cautiously just when she was considering that transforming and making a break for it would be a less awkward option than being scrutinised like this.

“Used to?” She felt her heart rate pick up.

“Well, truth be told…” It was his turn to avert his gaze, although he tightened his grip on her hand ever so slightly. “I’m not sure I’d enjoy kissing Ladybug very much now.”

“Oh?” She hated that she was losing all coherence, her brain overanalysing the implicit meaning of his words, which truly couldn’t be what she thought, dreamed it could be.

“Well, see, there’s this other girl…” He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, a smile gently spreading on his lips. Which she definitely wasn’t focusing on.

“Yeah?” she asked breathlessly, very aware of the short distance between them as she forced herself to hold his gaze.

“I’ve just found myself feeling closer to her, and hoping that maybe, just maybe…” His eyes flickered to her lips, and she couldn’t help it.

Her lips found their way to his like a butterfly to a flower, landing lightly at first, testing the waters. It was sweet, like apple juice.

Just as she was about to break contact, Chat’s arms came to wrap around her waist and he deepened the kiss. Her own hands moved up to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck. She felt him smile against her lips, and couldn’t help but smile herself.

And then there was light.

She jumped out of Chat Noir’s arms and he scrambled to his feet just as a firefighter finished opening the door, helped by Kim. They’d been so close to a proper floor.

“I knew I’d heard people talking in there!” Kim said excitedly, helping Marinette out. “Oh, hi Chat Noir! Do you know where Ladybug is? This Akuma is not messing around.”

“I’ll go and take care of it, I’ll call LB on the way.” He replied almost sheepishly. Marinette didn’t know where to put herself. She didn’t doubt that what they’d been doing could be read all over her face. Maybe Chat would even figure everything out by just looking at her. There was no doubt that she was just as red as Ladybug’s suit.

“Go find yourself a safe hiding place, Marinette.” Chat put a hand on her shoulder, his eyes boring into hers.

“Will do.” She nodded. “Be safe out there.”

“Will do.”

He started running towards an exit, but turned around just as he was about to turn the corner. He paused, as if he was about to say something, but thought better of it and flashed her a bright smile instead.

It almost made Marinette forget that she needed to get moving too.

[forkanna]

[AO3 LINK]

NOTICE: Back To The Future and related concepts © Robert Zemeckis/Bob Gale/Universal. Frozen and related concepts © Diznee. This story, plot, and prose © Jessica X and Fruipit. Cover art © Moon_MLR. All rights reserved.

WARNING: This story will contain coarse language, incestuous romance between a mother and daughter, and some smut (these chapters will have warnings). Also contains Punzanna (Rapunzel/Anna) content. If you have a problem with any of those things, DO NOT READ; just walk away for everyone's sake.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: IT'S CORONATION DAY! What better day than this to start off the last installment of our three-part time-travelling mess? None I can think of! (Except maybe October 21st, or November 5th... for Fluxy reasons haha) Today happens to be the approximate date that canonical Elsa was crowned queen of Arendelle, and it's time to crown Elsa McFly the queen of wibbly-wobbly-wincest yet again.

Thank you all so much for waiting. Life has really been a journey between the end of Part II and now. As for this fic, by this point, the plot might be completely unrecognisable for Back To The Future fans. Please keep that in mind when you're seeing just how wildly we diverged from the source material. That said, we hope you like it and that it's been worth the wait!

Jess and Frui

                                                   PROLOGUE

Elsa McFly couldn't believe how much everything could change in thirty years. Again.

Everything, from the predictable things like technology, to others like plants and the world's actual attempts to create a greener planet. It was not something she'd ever imagined – and it gave her a sense of how Anna felt when she'd turned up in 1985. Elsa was very definitely out of her time.

The town itself hadn't changed much. The buildings were old, streets even older. There had been no population boom to strike Dell Valley; it remained relatively consistent. Certain aspects had been cleaned up, of course; less graffiti, condemned properties were gone. Less poverty, too, it seemed, although the homeless may have just moved on from the park outside the courthouse and onto other areas.

Little Elsa Baines's childhood home no longer existed, which was a slightly sad thought. It had been knocked down and turned into townhouses – they looked tiny from the outside, but chances are they were really quite spacious and affordable. No chance for her to go inside, but neither did she care all that much anyway.

The McFly family home at Aren Estates was still hanging around. The whole neighbourhood had really been improved – even though the houses were still quite old, the place was clean and well-lit, lawns neatly kept. Sitting on a bench just down the street, it gave her a chance to just observe. She was only somewhat surprised to learn that the home had stayed in the family through all these years. Anna had never moved out – Jennifer had actually moved in. That was good, she thought approvingly. Both the fact that their love had lasted, and that they hadn't strayed far. It gave her a sense of hope.

Thus far, she hadn't seen herself – though Doc had warned her to stay out of sight of her future self if she did. That made it hard, given that the whole purpose of her 'visit' was to see how future-Anna and future-Elsa interacted. To make sure that they could move on, that they had moved on. Perhaps gain some insight into how the 2015 versions could do the same.

But maybe… she wouldn't learn that secret. Maybe it didn't work at all because Elsa hadn't seen herself. Not a hair nor a finger. She had peered through the front window whilst the house had been empty, and seen nothing. No photographs or other sentiments lying around. Definitely one of Anna and Punz – they had the full white wedding, both women in dresses. The photo was displayed proudly in the living room, the inhabitants moving like something out of Harry Potter; yet another technological advancement.

Perhaps it had been irreconcilable. It wasn't really too far out of the question. There was only one other thought that she didn't really want to think about, and yet it passed through her mind regardless.

What if… what if she wasn't around anymore at all?

And so she had moved away from the house, going off to wait on her bench near the Delorean – parked a ways down the street and hidden – while she waited for Anna and Jennifer to show. They eventually exited, talking about something – it sounded like an argument, actually. The words didn't carry down the street, but the volume did. Elsa watched as Anna's hand came up and pinched at her nose. She turned around, locking the front door as Jennifer opened the car and slid into the driver's seat.

God, she still looked beautiful. It felt less weird, looking at her like this. Anna was the same age as Elsa, though she had definitely aged better. Whether it be diet and exercise or some revolutionary health product, she looked like she was barely forty instead of pushing fifty. Her freckles stood stark against pale skin, and in the morning sun her coppery hair shone.

Jennifer was the same, though she'd never quite held the same allure for Elsa. It was most definitely for the best; it was one thing to carry an ill-advised torch for ones daughter, given they had actually fallen in love when they were both teenagers. Being attracted to her daughter's girlfriend was… too much. Though Jennifer was always beautiful.

Still, a small smile worked its way onto her face as she watched Anna knock on the window to the car. Jennifer rolled it down, and they conversed for a few seconds before Anna leaned fully in, kissing her on the cheek. When she pulled back, she seemed to be smiling. So, even though they fought, there was still a lot of love there. Good. They deserved that.

Then Jennifer was pulling from the driveway, Anna waving her goodbye. She picked up her handbag, and Elsa decided that it was probably time for her to leave. She had been creepy enough. Standing up, she accidentally dropped the car keys as they slid from her lap. When she stood upright again, thumbing the keyring, she looked towards Anna one more time.

Her blood ran cold when she found a pair of green eyes already focused on her.

She tried to turn away. To do as Doc said and not interfere with the goings-on of a time outside her own; unlike poor, bewildered Anna in the 80s, she fully appreciated the risks and the dangers. But she only got a few steps before she heard Anna calling her name.

"ELSA?!"

It wouldn't do to try and make a run for it. All that would accomplish was causing a scene in the quaint little suburban neighbourhood. The footsteps drew closer, and closer… it felt like a small eternity, waiting there. But she couldn't bring herself to turn around and approach Anna herself.

"Elsa… it is you, isn't it?"

"I'm afraid you have me mistaken for someone else," she tried feebly.

"And I'm afraid I don't buy that. So what are you doing here?"

The tears in Anna's voice was what finally made her turn around. The lines around her eyes were a little more apparent from such close distance, though they still weren't as pronounced as her own. Crinkles at the corners of her mouth, faint crow's feet. Still radiant and full of life as she ever was. She and Jennifer both looked to be relatively trim as their younger selves had been, though Punz a little plumper than Anna.

"I… doing something stupid," she finally whispered, dropping all of her pretence. "Trying to see… h-how… you and I could…"

Seeming to sense that Elsa was about to break down and expire, her daughter grinned and reached out a hand to rest on her shoulder. The tears were falling freely, but she otherwise seemed to be able to maintain a normal demeanor.

"Come inside. Jennifer's already gone; you don't have to worry about polluting the timeline, even though this is the future."

A little stunned by just how easily Anna seemed to assess the situation, Elsa took the hand and let her lead her back to their home. It didn't take long to be pushed through the front door. Anna had certainly looked like she was on her way somewhere, but when Elsa asked, she'd just brushed it off.

"Oh, it's fine," she said. "I mean- I'll just have to send a quick message but please, make yourself at home!"

She disappeared down the hallway, and Elsa didn't feel as lecherous as she thought she would when she watched her go. The fashion was something else; light fabrics that seemed to fit perfectly. Complimented Anna's skin and her freckles and her eyes – and now that she wasn't directly in front of them, Elsa could think back and realise that they were definitely a brighter green than they used to be. Contacts or something else, she wasn't sure.

Elsa didn't hear Anna moving about, which meant she wasn't returning just yet. Which meant Elsa did the one thing she thought she should: she went to the kitchen and attempted to make two cups of hot chocolate. Trusting that her daughter hadn't changed so much as to no longer keep the powdered stuff in the house, she began- well, not snooping as such. Just looking for the chocolate.

She couldn't find anything, but she did find a small glass container of what looked like liquorice bullets labeled "drinking chocolate". Plucking the jar off the shelf, she opened the lid and took a sniff.

"Good, right?"

"Ahh!" Elsa cried, dropping the jar. It dropped to the floor in slow motion, giving Elsa ample time to squeeze her eyes shut and wait for the inevitable smash.

It didn't come.

"Hey, relax," Anna said, stepping forward. Her hand came to rest at the small of Elsa's back for a second, almost naturally, before she bent down to pick up the jar and the lid. Luckily, none of the little pellets had fallen out. She tapped the side. "Unbreakable glass. Pretty common these days." There was a smile on her face, but Elsa's heart was still racing too fast for her to really take much notice of it.

And Anna's hand was still on her back. Taking a quick step backwards, Elsa found herself pressing against the sink. She was grateful that Anna didn't move forward with her. Instead, she took out two of the chocolate-things and moved over to a machine. Within seconds, the warm aroma of a barista-made hot chocolate filled Elsa's nostrils.

She didn't speak. She wasn't sure she knew what to say, even if her voice hadn't been trapped behind the lump in her throat. Luckily for the both of them, Anna never had been one to thrive in silence.

"I've been expecting you to drop by," she began softly. She puttered about the kitchen as she spoke, grabbing cups and plates, getting the hot chocolate and some snacks from a device that looked like a wall of a beehive, hundreds of tiny hexagons surrounding different things. She didn't approach Elsa at all. "Jennifer and I have been waiting a few years, actually. We weren't quite sure when, but we thought it would be soon."

"You did? So… you already knew- well, of course you would," she sighed, shaking her head. "Obviously, by now someone would have told you I took this little trip, either me or Doc, or anyone. Silly of me to think it would go unnoticed for thirty years."

Anna's face fell slightly. She was still smiling, but it was a bit sadder. "Actually… that isn't entirely what happened."

"It isn't?"

"No. You see… no one has seen you for thirty years."

Elsa's blood ran cold. It took her a few seconds to find her voice again, and as she worked at it Anna merely gazed at her, eyes drinking in her face. As if she had never been so happy to see it in all her life. Which, if it had really been that long…

"But… but I was going to go back, I…"

"Were you?" This time, her hands went to her hips, as if she were the parent. Even though they were the same age now. "Because I think if you really intended to do that, Mom, we wouldn't be dealing with this situation right now."

Swallowing hard, Elsa looked away, clutching at her heart. "Well… alright. Going back to our home in 2015 was not my primary plan. It was my backup plan. But I really did hope… that I would find something here, some small sign, anything that could show me that I should reconsider…"

"Where did you go?" Anna asked her softly, finally raising her hands to rest on Elsa's shoulders. "Nobody ever knew what became of you. Not even… where you died, if you died… nothing. You were gone from our lives. Dad had his first heart attack because of that."

"First?" she asked with sudden urgency.

"Relax, relax," she soothed her, stroking up and down her upper arms. "He's fine. Still kicking, still writing. He lives with Wendy and her family now."

Her emotions did the fastest flip-flop of her entire life. "I… Wendy has a family?" Her eyes brimmed with tears of pure joy.

"Yes, and don't ask for any details," Anna warned her with a stern glare. Elsa nodded her understanding; she didn't want to accidentally jeopardise her elder daughter's happiness. "We have other shit to worry about."

"What do you mean?" Elsa asked. Anna gave her a look, but didn't say anything. Not at first. She instead took a step away, picking up both mugs of hot chocolate in one hand and a container of something else in the other.

"Come sit," she said, beckoning gently.

Elsa still seemed hesitant to come too close of her own accord. After learning what she'd put her family through, she assumed there would be a bit more… anger. Maybe even hatred. But there was none – at least, not directed at her. Elsa could still see something unpleasant swirling in Anna's eyes, pooling beneath the sadness she had inflicted, too. It hurt to look, so she didn't.

"Did I…do something?" Anna asked softly, once they were seated on the lounge. "Did I…chase you away?"

"What? No, of course not, Anna-"

"Then why? Mom…" Anna's voice broke briefly, but when Elsa's eyes flickered up to her daughter, she didn't seem to be crying again. At least, not yet. "Mom you just left us. Dad and John and Wendy. Me… I blamed myself for so long, too. When you didn't come back. Finally saw that shrink." She gave a sniffle, and Elsa could definitely hear the tears in Anna's voice when she spoke again. "It really… it really messed me up. Jennifer was a godsend. She kept me from doing anything really stupid."

Elsa felt her own eyes welling at that. "I didn't want to cause more pain," she began. "We are… were… stuck in a loop. An endless cycle that I couldn't allow to continue. Not with my teenaged daughter. The only thing that would make it stop is… if I removed myself from the equation. You'd be free to live your life with Jennifer, without worrying about me."

"But I DID, Mom!" Anna cried. And yes, she was truly in tears now. They streamed down her face, turning it splotchy red and sticky. "I did worry. I thought you hated me; hated what I did, what I'd put you through. I didn't feel like you were saving me, I felt like you were punishing me!"

Suddenly, she stood up. Without offering any explanation, she turned and left the room, leaving Elsa alone and confused. Through the walls she could hear the telltale sound of someone speaking – Anna, in this case. It was impossible to hear what she was saying, though.

When Anna returned, some minutes later, Elsa still hadn't moved. Her chocolate was… still warm, surprisingly. She hadn't touched it, though. Clearing her throat, Anna spoke.

"Jen's coming home," she said softly. "I thought- I thought I could do this and I can't. I-" She paused, sucking in a breath. When she found her voice, it was thin and watery. "I still love you. And that probably really messes with your plan, or whatever you had."

Elsa was completely crestfallen to find out this was how things were. This plot of hers to remove herself from the problematic equation that was their love – their life – would make Anna this unhappy? She understood it, of course, but she had hoped that she would be able to get on with her life. Without the needless stress of a mother who couldn't seem to stop doing unmotherly things.

"Anna… my God, I just don't know what I'm doing." Finally, she did pick up the mug and took a sip. To give herself a moment. "You were so- wow, this is good."

"I'm glad," Anna managed with a weak chuckle. "Drink pellets are like, next-level Keurig."

"It's not your 'fault,' though. It's mine. I thought… I assumed that the plan I had worked out in the years after realising who you would become should have been enough. That I could just stubbornly resist temptation and everything would go back to normal. But I didn't count on you being just as tempted as me! Young me was so much prettier, and appealing, so-"

"Oh, don't go down that road," she sighed, face pained. "You're still as hot as you were the last time I saw you, which was as hot as you were in the 80s. But that isn't really the issue."

That stunned her completely. "It's not? News to me."

"Oh, of course not! It's that we were in love. Not because you're a cute blonde, but because… I just really wanted to be with the person you were. That sweet, exciting girl I met in '85. Despite all the walls in our way, the obstacles, I think we both know that my little trip into the past showed us a part of each other that we couldn't see before. A soulmate."

Elsa's lips fumbled uselessly for a few seconds. When she still couldn't speak, Anna eventually allowed herself a small smile, then whispered, "Spoilers."

"But… but Jennifer…" The protest was weak; she was too shocked to do any better than that.

Anna grinned. It was small, barely there. "You think she's with me because of my dashing looks?" she asked. She seemed genuinely curious, too. "I've had thirty years without you, Elsa. Three decades to think. And so has she."

There was a pause as Elsa absorbed all this information. Then, Anna surprised her with a question.

"Do you remember when you first met me?" At first, Elsa just looked confused.

"You mean, in the 80s?" Anna nodded. So she answered, "I- yes. I do."

"And do you remember what happened after dinner? We went to that café and Tiana brought us choco-banana milkshakes?"

This time, it was Elsa who nodded. "I've never forgotten…" she murmured. "You were the first person I ever shared that much with."

"Do you… know why?" Anna asked softly. She seemed to know something that Elsa didn't, so she continued. "That was the moment I stopped thinking, 'Oh God, my mother wants to bang everything that moves' and I realised…"

She trailed off, and Elsa was almost too afraid to ask what. She already knew. "What did you realise?"

"That it was me. That you had a thing for me, not just an out-of-control libido. And it only because more obvious the more time I spent with you."

Elsa couldn't look at her. Her hands came up to cover her face as she shook her head. She didn't notice Anna move, but she certainly felt her when she sat next to her on the couch. Elsa didn't fight it when Anna pulled her into a hug – she relished in it. Far too much, if she were honest.

But… was that true anymore? Anna was an adult. She, like Elsa, had thirty years to come to terms with what she had done as a teenager. And with whom. And nothing she was saying was a lie, either. Elsa could feel that much. At the time, she hadn't known what it was; even today, it remained an indescribable pull that was impossible to shake. The very thought of what she had put Anna through – or rather, what she was going to put Anna through – was nearly enough to shake her.

By that same token, though, millions of people survived without their other half. Their… soulmate. So would Anna. She deserved better than Elsa, who always seemed to make the wrong choice.

"I'm… sorry…" Elsa began softly. Her hands came away from her face so she could wrap them around Anna's waist, pulling her close. "I'm so… so sorry…"

Anna pulled back, just far enough to look in Elsa's eyes. "I know," she said before leaning forward, lips pressing against her cheek and lingering for a solid second before she moved away. They looked at each other, already knowing what the other was thinking.

This time, when Anna leaned forward, Elsa did the same, coming to meet her. And it was everything she had been missing for thirty years. Everything she had wanted, and never allowed herself to have again because Anna was too young — or rather, Elsa herself had grown too old. Though apparently, Anna disagreed, and still did even in the future.

As their lips slid over each other, Elsa finally allowed her hands to move up Anna's back, to truly give herself over to the contact. There was no shame, no pushing her away, no stammered excuses; Anna kissed back with the ferocity of a thousand warriors, and a level of experience her younger self had never possessed. It felt strong, and wonderful, and all of the things that she had found it to be when Anna was barely a woman without any of the guilt. Or more accurately, without the guilt having any true bite.

"This," she gasped when Anna broke away to kiss down her neck, "wasn't wh-why I came here!"

"I know," Anna responded. She sucked in a breath, then let it out slowly as she forced herself to draw back, smiling at Elsa. "God, you still do it for me. I knew I still loved you and missed you, but after thirty years, I did start to wonder about the physical aspect and all… chemistry, whatever."

"But it still isn't right," Elsa sighed, devoid of true conviction anymore. "And I still don't see how we're going to make this work without… well, ruining our family."

"At least you're talking about trying to make it work now. That's a good sign." Reaching up into her hair, Anna undid the bun Elsa had it stuck in and ran her hands through it until the soft platinum hair fell in waves down her shoulders. "This beautiful young lady, Elsa Baines…"

Against her own expectations, Elsa bit her bottom lip and let out a shy giggle. That was truly the first time Anna had been 'in control' of the situation, and she felt an odd thrill in the pit of her stomach that forced the sound out of her. When Anna heard it, she grinned and left a brief peck on her lips.

"You are," Anna murmured softly. "And you always have been." But then she was backing away more fully, rising to her feet. Elsa could see how her legs wobbled, just a little. She had done that to Anna?

Then again, she doubted that she would be able to stand properly, either. This Anna – the confident one who didn't make Elsa feel like a cougar – had lit something in her that she hadn't felt since she was a teenager. Yes, she had certainly felt it in 2015, but it had been tainted by the fact that Anna was a teenager and she should not be having these kinds of liaisons with her forty-seven year old mother.

That was no longer a concern. And who knew? Perhaps the laws were a little more lenient in 2045; an option worth looking into, at the very least. Or perhaps not. Maybe it was immaterial.

"Anna…" Elsa began softly as her daughter crossed the room to fiddle with a panel, inlaid into the wall. "As much as I want to- to stay here with you, or return to 2015, I can't- I have a plan."

She didn't say any more, but she didn't need to. "I know," Anna said softly. "Can I- can you do a favor for me, though? Can you take this to me, about a month ago? From my time, not yours." She held out a small triangle. Elsa had a few guesses for what it may be, and none of them seemed particularly good.

"Anna, don't you see? I can't! You know what Doctor Pabbie said. His 'rules'. I may not understand the science completely, but I know I don't want to destroy the universe as long as you're in it!"

"Don't worry, it's… I prepared for that. Promise-promise. That's why I'm not sending you back to teenage-me. Look – if you think we shouldn't be together, if you really think that our lives would be better with you gone, then… go. Don't look back. Don't go back and give that to me. I won't make you. And I won't hate you." She stopped there, the reason why obvious: her eyes had filled with tears. She was smiling, still, but there was pain etched on her face. "Love you, Mom."

And for the first time, Elsa truly thought about changing the plan she had firmly in place. Her passport had already been renewed and she had a plane ticket booked, but it was open-ended; she could exchange it. She had second thoughts almost constantly, but this was the first time they had weight enough to make her reconsider.

"I'll… give this some serious thought, Anna," she whispered as she took the triangle, tucking it into her purse. She'd have to remember to stow it somewhere safe eventually, especially if she decided not to give it to Anna's past self; it could be dangerous in anyone else's hands. "Giving in to our feelings still sounds like an awful thing to do to you on paper, but…"

"But we aren't on paper," she affirmed for both of them, and Elsa smiled back at her. They kissed briefly again. "Now get out of here before I decide you need to stay. God knows I love having you around… but if I'm right, if true love wins, then this future is going to change, anyway."

Elsa snorted. "Now you sound like me. Doc really messed up how we understand time, didn't he?"

"Maybe a little." As she walked Elsa to the door, hand in hand, Anna leaned over and whispered, "By the way… if you're worried about ageing and looking 'too old' for young-me, you could always make an appointment at a rejuvenation clinic. Adds a good thirty-to-forty years to your life. Punz and I haven't had the full treatment yet, but we've had a thing or two done. We're young, we have plenty of time."

"Rejuvenation clinic? That sounds like cheating."

"It is," Anna laughed, and they both shared a grin. "But the world isn't quite as overpopulated as it used to be after the… well, nevermind that. Just stay out of Europe and China in 2020."

Feeling an odd chill down her spine, considering Europe was where she had intended to "retire" as per her plans, Elsa nodded and embraced her. "I will. Oh, Anna… how can I be both so excited and so confused?"

"I think it's called… possibilities," Anna said softly, holding her mother tight. There was a hesitance as they slowly released one another, moving back so their hands rested on each other's elbows.

"I don't want to leave," Elsa said softly. "But I know I have to…" She couldn't stay here, no matter how much she might wish it. No matter how unfair it all was. Anna wore a sad smile as her hand came up to cup Elsa's cheek, thumb running gently over the lined skin.

"I know," came her soft words. "I don't want you to go."

Those words seemed to help Elsa break away. Perhaps it should have been harder to leave, knowing that this Anna felt the same. That if circumstances were different, it would have been perfect. But instead, it made it easier. Anna loved her. She had always loved her – and still did – and yet she survived. Elsa could leave and Anna would still grow up happy and healthy. Kristoff probably understood. John and Wendy… maybe they knew and maybe they didn't.

Wiping at her eyes, which had dampened but not truly filled with tears, Elsa smiled.

"Goodbye, Anna," she said. "I love you."

And Anna simply said, "I know," and that was that.

It didn't take long for her resolve to falter. Truly she was only halfway down the street, the feel of Anna's gaze on the back of her head still fresh, before she began having doubts. Her hand strayed to her purse, where Anna's odd little triangle lay. What had she said? If Elsa truly believed they shouldn't be together, then she could simply ignore it. However… if a single shred of her was uncertain, if she thought that their love was bigger than the space-time continuum, then she should take it to Anna of one month prior.

Legs growing weak, Elsa collapsed on a sidewalk bench. She had a decision to make. And she had all the time in the world; she had a time machine. But she knew that she would have to have one final conversation before she made that choice. Much as she loved her daughter, she was no scientist.

"There's only one man who can help me," she whispered a few minutes later as she finally regained the strength to round the corner to where the DeLorean lay sleeping. Waiting for its temporary mistress to give it new marching orders toward a shared destiny.

                                                         To Be Continued…

[angst-fairygodmother]

Work of Art (Diego Hargreeves x Reader, Kinktober

A/N: Rather than try and finish 2 more fics this week, as would be necessary to finish the original Kinktober list I posted, I played a little shuffle, and combined the two remaining ones, tossed some stuff, added new stuff. Because frankly I’m running out of steam[iness], though really, this is further than I ever expected to get on this project. Anyway...the final fic. Hope you enjoy. Word Count: 2440 Kinktober Prompts: bondage, knife-play, marking Rating: E(xplicit) Content Warnings: dom/sub (dom reader), bondage, knife-play, marking kink, pain kink, begging, teasing, praise kink, oral (both male and female receiving), biting, blood, overstimulation Cross-posted to AO3 here.

“Stop squirming so much,” you laughed, dropping the soft cotton rope to start over. “You’d think I was torturing you or something.”

“You’re sitting there, dressed like that, looking that gorgeous, and not letting me touch you,” Diego pointed out. “Find me the part that isn’t torture.”

You rolled your eyes, finally securing the last knot to keep Diego exactly where you wanted him, despite his continued wriggling.

“Unless you want actual torture, stop complaining.”

“Actual torture? You couldn’t if you tried.”

You raised a challenging eyebrow and smirked. He swallowed, instantly regretting his words. 

“Well then, you wouldn’t mind if I just…” you walked over to the bedroom door, pausing dramatically in the doorway to look back at him. “Left you there then?”

“Wait, no, Y/N,” he called after you, voice straining with ill-concealed desperation. “Please. I promise I’ll behave.”

You waited a few beats longer, until you heard his faint whine, pleading for you, before you returned to the bedroom, satisfied that he knew your threat was serious. When you returned, he gave you his best penitent expression, which was admittedly, just a little bit ruined by the way his eyes trailed hungrily over your figure in the lacy, nearly see-through negligee you wore when he thought you wouldn’t notice.

“I could do whatever I want to you like this,” you observe off-handedly, still standing near the end of the bed, studying his bound form. 

He wasn’t completely immobile, though you had originally tried to convince him to let you trap him in that way. But he was tied enough that he wouldn’t be going anywhere or able to pull his usual stunts to try to take control. And he looked so pretty: stretched out on the bed, hands bound above him with just enough slack to be able to twist and grab the thin wrought-iron rails supporting him, another thin set of ropes wrapped around his waist and secured to the underside of the bed. If you were being honest, it was a bit like the damsel tied to a railroad track in an old silent movie, but it was a look that worked for him, especially the way the blue ropes stood out against his skin. 

“And you’d like that wouldn’t you,” you purred, taking a few steps closer. “You like to act tough but really, you’re just craving to be used and controlled. Isn’t that right baby?”

His cock twitched at your words and you couldn’t help but smirk, enjoying the visual evidence of your effect on him. He nodded in answer to your question, even as he strained against his binds. You stopped, waiting expectantly for him to use his words. It had taken a long time to convince him to let his guard down and be vulnerable like this, and you wanted to be sure that he was both capable and willing to bring it to a stop if he needed to.

“Yes,” he finally panted. “Please, use me, do whatever you want to me. Please, Y/N.”

“You look so good like this, like a work of art. What would you do if I decided I wanted to just sit here,” you plopped yourself down on a stool in the corner and folded one leg over your knee, leaning forward so you could still see his face. “And admire the art?”

He shook his head. “No, please, please touch me, hurt me, fuck me. Do anything, just please, do something.”

“You’re so right.” You stood again, sauntering to the edge of the bed and staring down into his face, gently running your nails down the side of his face, swiping them across his lips, drawing back harshly enough that they caught when he tried to suck a thumb into his mouth.

“My pretty boy.” He shivered bodily, as much as the ropes would allow, at your words, throwing his head back against the pillow.

“Do you like that? Being called pretty or being called mine.”

His face flushed and you repressed a giggle.

“Both,” he admitted shyly. 

“Do you want me to keep doing it?”

“Please?”

“Of course, my pretty boy, all mine, all laid out and gorgeous for me.” A dangerous glint crossed your eyes as he tried to buck upward, a bead of pre-cum welling from your words alone. 

“Maybe, I should make sure everyone knows that you’re mine. Make it clear that they can look,” you ran your fingertips down his sternum, “but they can’t touch. Would you like that?”

You suspected that by the end of the night, he would grow tired of your prompting. And yet, if he paid attention, he would see that through this, he had more control than he ever did otherwise. 

“Yes, Y/N. Claim me.” There was a hint of frustration and desperation in his voice, and you decided not to push him any further before giving in. 

Slowly, making sure his eyes were trained on you the whole time, not that he had dared to look away for a second so far, you straddled him, just above where the ropes crossed his mid-section, moving at a pace that made tectonic plates look like speedboats. 

Settling comfortably, you leaned down, pressing your body against his, only the gauzy layer of your dress separating you. You let your breath ghost over him, teasing at the sensitive spots behind his ear and beneath his jaw. And then, sure that he wouldn’t be expecting it, you dipped your head lower and bit down harshly on the soft spot where throat met clavicle. Diego cried out, thrashing under you but unable to move, and just as importantly, not seeming like he was actually trying to get away from you. You felt the slightest hint of blood welling up and laved your tongue over the spot, soothing the worst of the sting but maintaining enough pressure to draw the blood toward the surface, ensuring a heavy, dark spot would be left behind.

“Mm,” you purred, pulling back to look at his face once more, the blissed out look on his face sending a jolt to your core. “You mark up so well for me Diego, but I don’t know if that little spot’s going to be enough.”

He gulped nervously. “Will you leave another?”

“I had a better idea, if you trust me…” you forced him to meet your gaze. 

“Absolutely.” It was the firmest his voice had been since you began. 

Hesitantly, you reached over to the nightstand, picking up one of the tiny precision blades that he used sometimes, though never in this way obviously. Palming it, you held it up for him to see. His eyes widened. 

“I promise, I won’t hurt you, not really,” you explained, dropping any act or pretense. “Lightest touch only. Just enough to leave a mark that will heal over without a trace. Or I can put this away. It’s up to you.”

His eyes flickered back and forth from the knife to your face. 

“Do it,” he said, voice gruff with desire. The muscles of your cunt clenched and fluttered at the sound, but you tried to ignore the feelings and focus on him. “...please?”

You kissed him passionately, trying to pour into it all of the thousand feelings coursing through you: how badly you wanted him, how much you loved him, how grateful you were that he trusted you like this. 

You rocked backwards, letting your ass brush teasingly against his straining erection as you inspected your canvas.

“Now, my pretty boy,” you taunted, “where shall I make my mark. There are so many options…”

You trailed the flat of the little blade along the column of his throat, watching his Adam’s apple bob, dangerously close to the point. You traced outward, first over one side of his collarbone and then the other and then down over the taut muscles of his chest. He hissed as you turned the blade so that the needle-sharp point was against his flesh as you traced circles around his nipples with just enough pressure to create a sting. Finally, you stopped, poised just above his heart.

“Shall I write my name right here?” you asked, “label your heart and lay my claim to it.”

“It’s yours,” he countered, “already yours.”

“Well then, let’s make it official.” 

You turned the blade again so that the full edge was pressed his exposed skin, biting your lip as you watched the little specks of red well up in the shape of your initials, tracing over them once, twice, thrice. He moaned louder with each pass, high and needy and threatening to overwhelm you, but he held himself perfectly still, one wrong move potentially spelling his end. You admired the endurance and discipline it required almost as much as you admired the patterns of pain you were tracing around the letters now, little hearts and swirling shapes. You followed behind the knife with open-mouthed kisses, as you wanted him to experience the sting and ache at the same time as you wanted to draw them away and spare him any suffering.

“Please,” he breathed. “Please, haven’t I been good?”

You looked up, a little startled at the question. 

“Of course you’ve been good. You’ve been so good. Perfect, obedient, beautiful. You’ve been all those things Diego,” you assured him. 

“Then please, I can’t take anymore. Please stop teasing me, no more games.”

You frowned. It wasn’t the safeword you had agreed to, but maybe…

“Please, don’t I deserve a reward?”

Oh.

“Of course you do baby. Do you want to cum now?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“No?” you startled. 

“No. I don’t want to cum yet. Not until I taste you. I know you’re wet, I know you. I want that sweet little pussy all over my face.”

“Well who am I to refuse you whatever your heart desires?” You said, eyes sparkling with mirth before you rose up on your hands and knees, crawling over him until you were poised, hovering just out of reach of his tongue, which was already darting out to run across his lips. 

His hands strained at the ropes, and you knew that if his hands were free, something you could have given him with a few flicks of the little knife if you wanted to, they would be gripping your hips with bruising strength and holding you down while he pleasured you. You closed your eyes, letting the image dance across your eyelids while you sank down. 

Diego’s tongue flicked through your folds, tasting your gathered wetness. The groan that followed vibrated up through you, and it took all of your willpower, and the sharp bite of your nails into the palm of one hand, the other braced on the headboard, parallel to Diego’s own arms, not to break from that sensation alone. He sucked hard on your sensitive clit and you keened, grinding down on his face just as he moved his attention, tongue diving into you. You continued to move, hips bucking in rhythm with the thrust and flick of the wet muscle inside you, his name falling from your lips like a prayer and then in a primal scream as he flicked and sucked at your clit again, alternating back and forth faster than you could keep track of. He answered each sound you made with one of his own, groans and moans and hums mixing with his clever mouth to drive you over the edge, and then again without warning as he refused to let up. 

“Oh fuck!” you cried out, “Fuck, Diego, yes! You make me feel so good baby!”

As a third orgasm tore through you, you pulled from him, trembling in the aftershocks as you tried to catch your breath.

“That was so good baby,” you panted. “You always know how to make me feel so good. But now it’s your turn.”

You slowly slunk down the bed, trailing kisses and little nips along his skin until you reached your destination. Looking up to check on him, and because you knew how much he loved the sight of you making eye-contact as you sucked him off, you wrapped your lips around his dick and slowly lowered your mouth onto it, taking him as deep as you could until he bumped at the back of your throat and tears stung at the corners of your eyes. Curling your hand around the base of him, the other bracing yourself against his thigh, you set an unstable pattern, working him rapidly, twisting your fingers and bobbing your head up and down only to suddenly slow, so that you were all but still, holding him in your mouth and the length of his cock with your tongue and then resuming your motions, trying to keep him on his toes. He bucked his hips as far as the ropes would allow him, trying to match your patterns with thrusts of his own, and crying out your name over and over. 

“Oh, Y/N,” he moaned. “I’m so close. I’m so fucking close.”

You squeezed gently on the base of his cock at the same you hollowed out your cheeks, taking him as deep as you could and he came with a feral growl, his cum filling your mouth, hot and salty and you swallowed down as much of it as you could, fighting the urge to gag. 

Slowly, you slid him out of your mouth and stood. Your own fluids were rapidly cooling on the insides of your thighs as you made your way shakily to the bathroom for some warm cloths to clean you both up.

As you returned to Diego’s side, you noticed the way he shivered and sweat. Concerned, you quickly slit the ropes, freeing him to curl in on himself.

“Diego, baby?” you asked softly, stroking the damp fabric over his skin soothingly. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he said slowly, sounding hoarse and slightly out of breath. “That was just a lot…”

“Too much?” 

“No. No,” he shook his head, reaching around to grab one of your hands in his. “It was perfect, I’m just…I’ll be fine.”

You bit your lip, not sure if you believed him and concerned that you’d gone too far, all in the name of showing him how amazing he was.

“How can I help?” you asked, wanting to follow his lead and speed his recovery.

“Just, hold me, please.”

“Let me finish cleaning us both up, and then I can definitely do that,” you said with a smile, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “I love you, Diego.”

“I love you too, Y/N.”

[ravenclaw-questions-gone-writing]

Ven’s Idea Outline #1 (Maribat)

Remember that MariDamiJon fic that I mentioned I was going to do for the gift exchange? It’s still bouncing around in my head and Luka decided to join in so I’ve decided to at least make an outline in (assuredly vain) hopes that it will leave me alone for a bit.

Ao3

Part 1

Typical Daminette but Hanahaki style bc I can’t find any Maribat hanahaki fics and I need one and I can’t find any.

Dick and Damian sent to scope out Paris for Hawkmoth related reasons

Jon goes with bc he’s Damian’s emotional support kryptonian but he might arrive later This idea has been removed but I like it so I will share it.

Damian is getting familiar with the new battlegrounds  taking a walk in the park when a girl falls from a tree and lands on top of him

The girl apologizes profusely before explaining that she’s really clumsy and she was just trying to help a kitten stuck in the tree

It’s not love at first sight but Damian appreciates an animal lover and is slightly less of an ass than he would usually be

Might mix this with my Blossom Soulmate AU that I never got around to finishing and posting, now that I think about it

Anyway, Damian helps her get the cat down from the tree

He latches onto this potential information source who is not as annoying as most other people and sticks with her

They become friends friendly acquaintances and he drops by her school to pick up her up after she agreed to show him around Paris.

Debating Lila salt...

Debating Class salt...

If yes: Damian walks into a scene where Marinette  and sweeps Marinette away without a word to the rest of her class

If no: Damian arrives and proceeds to wait for her outside by his motorcycle

Either way, his appearance makes waves in Dupont’s rumor mills

They do not know he’s Damian Wayne, just that there’s a dude who attractive enough to be model with a motorcycle waiting for the schools (tragic, if salt) sunshine fashion princess.

Robin and Nightwing meet up with Ladybug and Chat Noir to offer their help in figuring out who Hawkmoth is, as well as fighting and training.

Full Miraculous court meeting with Ryuko, Viperion, Queen Bee, Carapace, Rena Rouge, Pegasus, Bunnyx, and Monkey king. (Rena Rouge is removed if Class salt. Replaced with Fox!Nath or Fox!Julieka)

Ladybug and Robin get along

About two weeks in Adrien starts officially dating Kagami.

Another week passes and Damian finds out Marinette has been coughing flower petals and her unrequited love is her classmate Adrien Agreste.

She refuses to remove the hanahaki - this version is the standard they can’t fall in love ever again if they remove it.

This revelation makes him oddly uneasy, it isn’t until his own Hanahaki shows up later that night that realizes he understands why.

Damian does a pretty good job of hiding it.

Dick knows something is up but he’s trying to give Damian more space so he doesn’t look into it and trusts Damian would ask him if it’s life threatening

Ladybug notices his discomfort on patrol and they talk

He is surprised to learn Ladybug also has it and Robin comes up with the brilliant idea that they should fall in love with each other.

There is precedent that if you fall out of love with the person, the Hanahaki will go away. But falling out of love is difficult and not easily done. There must be no lingering romantic feelings at all.

Ladybug encourages Robin to chase his crush first, because he at least has a chance if the girl he likes also has it.

Cue the debates

If Ladybug wins: Enter Damian going all out in flirty assassin seduction techniques from his mother - Good Talia that kills rapists, none of that she raped Bruce bs, she actually had a good relationship with Bruce and a mutual breakup because of differing views on killing people - that he’s barely used since his lessons on it in the league and romantic advice from Dick.

He goes full on Bitch-sensei from assassination classroom.

He’s commissioned a shirt from Marinette. She gets to design it however she wants.

It is a long sleeved button up, specifically made to accentuate his muscles without being too revealing.

That’s the shirt he wears when he asks her out with flowers and a stuffed kitten holding a stuffed wood board that says “please date me” He has his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, top button undone. Collar and hair ruffled up for maximum sensuality. He’s got a lot of references between all the people he knows (Bruce, Talia, Selina, Dick, and really his whole family is full of objectively attractive, seductive people he can reference. Just as long as he avoids mimicking their failing romantic habits, he should be fine.)

He tries to be suave about it but is a little too nervous to completely pull it off. It doesn’t matter because Marinette finds it endearing.

On the date, he’s more confident and is able to pull off suave bastard much better but only at the end. He’s a gentleman until the very end, when he leaves her in the bakery

He goes in, and twirls her admittedly short hair around his finger, maintaining eye contact as he presses his lips against her hair - it’s admittedly harder than he expected given how short it is but being so close made it more intimate and the blush on her face was definitely worth it

He leaves in the bakery slightly dazed and counts the date as a success.

Marinette’s mind shut down bc damn that boy is fine and smooth af is flustered and confused as heck but she’s willing to give him a shot

Alternatively: Marinette’s not sure about dating Damian because she feels like she’s just using him to get rid of her hanahaki bc of the idea that Robin had proposed.

Dick is ecstatic that Damian was acting weird because he had a crush and loved helping his brother out with this date planning in the city of love

He doesn’t report it back to the batfam yet because they had a small argument about it and Damian pulled away with the small victory of Dick has to wait until after the first date to tell them.

Damian is glad he Marinette’s willing to give him a chance but he’s worried about Ladybug

he wonders if he should set her up with Tim or Duke, it’d be a shame to lose a friend and hero like her.

Robin brings up his success to Ladybug and asks if there’s anything he can do to help her.

She notes that a friend had actually confessed to her and she’s giving them a chance.

They accidentally compare notes on their dates and that’s their reveal.

If Robin wins: An awkward start that smooths into moonlit dates on the Eiffel tower, dancing on rooftops, an increase in flirting but only after battles, never before it bc they have a professional reputation to keep, increasingly physical training routines, stolen kisses but not on lips until they’re more comfortable with each other.

Fast tracked mutual slow burn which kinda defeats the purpose of a slow burn but whatever

I have realized these ideas are not mutually exclusive.

Maybe Ladybug wins first but Damian fails to seduce Marinette because she has the doubts so they go with plan B and date each other. Ladybug is more comfortable with the idea of dating Robin because they both have Hanahaki and are knowingly using each other to get rid of it?

There is no identity reveal in this version

Complaint Break time: I was writing this to get it out but it keeps growing, wtf.  This is so long and I haven’t even gotten to the main part.

It was supposed to be an established Daminette but I wanted to show how they got together, this was supposed to be like 5 bullet points, 10 tops.

At some point, I’m going to have to mention the rumor that people with Hanahaki are being kidnapped because the flowers that bloom after their death make great medicine but that cures most illnesses and are good potions ingredient whatever, something along those lines. It’s not the ones they cough up but the flowers that grow on the vines constricting their lungs after until they die and only blossom after death. Those flowers that spread the pollen into the air that makes the Hanahaki disease possible.

That’s why people keep it a secret unless they’re going to get the surgery as there’s not other way to treat it.

But that’s a plot point for part 2.

I feel like this is already longer than anything I’ve put out at this point in time.

Back to the story:

Even though they’re dating, the Hanahaki doesn’t go away immediately. It slows and becomes less frequent but there are times when they think of how their love doesn’t return their feelings and the flowers come back with a vengeance and they’re down for the day, possibly the entire week, hacking up flower petals and buds.

(Ladybug Wins version until otherwise stated) It’s during one of these fits that Dick finds out and is angry at this girl playing with his brother’s feelings.

Damian is too busy hacking up bloody flower petals to correct him

The entire batfam and subsequently Superfam now know the batfam’s youngest has hanahaki

Jon is called in and flies in to help keep an eye on his best friend

Bruce, Jason, Tim, and Duke are shocked but they pack up and are ready to go in guns blazing to have a talk with this girl bc the boys might not be on the best terms but that’s their baby brother. The girls stay behind to hold down the fort (because I need more time to get familiar with them before I can confidently write their characters. I’m not too confident about Duke either but I already mentioned him and it’s too late to back out now.)

So, Damian’s brothers and his father track her down to a different park in Paris where Marinette’s hanging out with her friends

They’re incised to find their brother’s girlfriend with another guy’s arm around her, leading her away from the main group of friends

It’s Luka, he’s helping her hide her hanahaki because she assures him that she has it under control and will go with him to the hospital if it becomes too much

They confront the couple

There’s a lot of intimidating posturing and accusations

Batfam is absolutely not prepared for the bloody flowers that spill from her lips - her hanahaki is even worse than Damian’s

Detective bats (correctly or incorrectly, depending on which version happens) put the pieces together and figure they’re dating to get rid of the hanahaki, that is something Damian would absolutely propose

and oh shit, this time it’s not just Bruce that’s adopting someone. They have a little sister now.

Luka explains what he knows about the situation and basically confirms what they’d deduced.

Welp, since they’re here, Hawkmoth has become top priority.

Hawkmoth takes one look at the Miraculous circle and the new set of bats and just- nopes out plus super boy and just nopes out.

Like, he tries but he has no expectation of winning and tries to run instead. It doesn’t work, they have all grounds covered.

I should probably make use of Mayura if I ever do write everything out but she didn’t really leave much of an impression on me tbh and I don’t have a lot of ideas. Maybe if I ever go back and watch it.

Celebratory, on-the-spot kiss between Robin and Ladybug where they do “oh“ and realize the pressure in their chest is finally gone and the Hanahaki is no more.

(Robin Wins) Dick is obliviously happy about little Robin leaving the nest and finding a mate until he finds out both the little heroes coughing up flower petals on their date

then he goes in and mother hens them both, before demanding answers

He’s also less happy about this whole dating thing

Dick can’t do much about Ladybug without revealing her identity but Damian isn’t getting out of it so easily

Dick figures out who Damian’s crushing on and goes to do a little investigating. He is very surprised to see it’s a bubbly, energetic designer girl and not someone... calmer. But then he thinks of Jon and it makes a little more sense

He talks to her, asks about what she thinks of Damian and is pleasantly surprised by her positive view of his brother. He asks if she would go out with him and she coughs up some petals

Now, Dick’s freaking out and why are there so many children with Hanahaki? This is the third one in two days!

fast forward because I’m finally out of ideas for this part

Ladybug knows she’s fallen for Robin, which was the entire point of them dating but she not sure he actually reciprocates or is still trying to forget that other girl.

Or if you went the other way, Robin’s still chasing Marinette but Ladybug now likes Robin and is aware that he’s trying to woo her. So, out of the frying pan and into another for her.

Robin is absolutely having regrets bc he is an emotional wreck and crushing on two girls and this was not supposed to happen, damnit.

A meta gets akumatized and takes out half the miraculous court but turns out the meta’s psychic ability can help track Hawkmoth so its all cool, now that they know what Hawkmoth feels like

Ladybug, Chat Noir, Ryuko, and Robin vs Hawkmoth and Mayura

Nightwing stayed behind to watch the other heroes are no longer brain dead from the battle but boy are they out of it and he has to make sure they get home safe

that does not mean he’s not extremely put out and worried about it since he knows half the team has hanahaki and it may interfere with the fight

Even if the Ladybug suit lessens the hanahaki attacks, they still happen from time to time

For two people who don’t  show up to fight often Hawkmoth and Mayura put up a good fight

Ladybug has an hanahaki attack and Hawkmoth tried to take advantage of it, only to get knocked out by Chat Noir who’s still pissed at his dad for causing this whole thing

Chat Noir and Ryuko are pretty shocked Ladybug has hanahaki, even more her timer runs out and she choses to present it to Robin

Robin is shook

He gets it together and pulls her into a kiss that cures their hanahaki and makes their brains melt

Now Marinette’s kinda confused bc what the other girl

Damian, slightly shifting his mask so she can see who he is: That other girl was YOU

Now Marinette’s the one who’s shook

Note: Chat Noir and Ryuko have both de-transformed at this point and are watching with wide eyes but they do not see who is under that mask. Also, no cameras in this section of the manor bc that would be proof.

They have a lot to talk about but it works out in the end.

the outline above was written out of order bc I had to go back everytime a new idea hit and I cannot be bothered to go back and dodeca-check this thing again just to make sure everything makes sense.

Part 2 (that was supposed to be the main story- finally made it, the starting point. I cry.)

Ok, so, now that Daminette is established and the evil is defeated

Damian returns to Gotham with his girlfriend in tow to introduce her to the rest of his family, despite his better judgement

Jon is happy that Damian is in happy, loving relationship but he’s a bit sad that it’s not him and oop, sunshine kryptonian boy got hanahaki’d.

Same for Luka. (Yes, Jagged will be his dad and a Gothamite.)

Jagged and his kids join them in Gotham bc he has to be there to show his favorite designer niece around to all the best places of his hometown.

Luka finds out Jon has Hanahaki and they bond over the experience

They make a pact to cover each other and get the other to the hospital when it gets to that point

Pining/Simping meetings over their best friends that for some unknown reason seem to lessen the flower coughing over time even though these meetings probably make things worse but they also need vent before it increases again.

Luka and Jon beginning to fall for each other but they think the other is still in love with Marinette/Damian and it’s true that they still hold feelings for their best friends that aren’t diminishing in the sleightest and it’s all very confusing.

It’s even more confusing when we add the new hero in Gotham, Viperion who’s there to continue training with the bats since he’s visiting the area, rescues and lightly flirts with Jon who ended up developing a small crush and Jon realizes he has a type.

So, poor Jon’s now crushing on Damian, Luka, and Viperion

Viperion meets Superboy and the kryptonian doesn’t seem to like him?

Luka’s crushing on Marinette, Jon - still doesn’t know that Damian is Robin. And is kinda curious and a little hurt that the Robin’s oddly familiar kryptonian is actively and obviously avoiding him and that heart song is kind of familiar but different.

Viperion also gains a crush on Robin after watching him take down a thug in a very graceful way - the bird was showing off for his bug and decided to make it a little showier, he accidentally also caught a snake

Ladybug and Robin still flirt but the court - aside from Ryuko and Chat, depending on which version - think that’s just their dynamic, though they do pull Robin aside for a bit to tell him she has a boyfriend now. He assured them it’s fine and he knows, oddly amused at their attempt.

man, I am not original with this identity porn thing

It isn’t until Luka sees Jon again that he puts it together.

Marinette suspiciously notes Luka and Jon been hanging out an awful lot she’s making connections to the time she had hanahaki and Luka covered for her

The pains of befriending deductive genii.

Cue the panic and they accidentally claim they’re dating but it throws Marinette off for now, so it kinda worked?

Hanahaki fic with a fake dating AU. Oops.

Mari decides since she and Damian don’t know this, they must have been neglecting their best friends and double dates are the way to go.

Cue more panic

Unlike Marinette who is willing to trust their word, Damian’s a suspicious bastard who’s kind of dubious and a little salty that Jon didn’t tell him earlier if they’re telling the truth but Mari’s all gung ho about it so he lets it go for now

They go on the date and it is an emotional mess for everyone involved

It starts out fine

Jon and Luka act a bit weird because they have to cover for each other randomly coughing up petals, not to mention they’re on a date with their original crushes without actually dating their original crushes not even mentioning their new crushes and the secret identity reveal that Luka still hasn’t confronted Jon on and Jon’s guiltily thinking about Viperion half the time he thinks about Luka and shouldn’t it be the other way around?

Yeah, so they’re a mess

Damian’s watching them like he’s trying to figure them out and it is not helping but thank god Mari’s distracting him totally on accident

Marinette? She found a random lost kid in Gotham looking for their parents

So now the double date’s been temporarily derailed to help the lost kid

While Damian’s watching Marinette try pass the crying kid off to Jon for a  moment so she can make a phone call to report a lost child but the kid’s clinging onto Marinette, and they exchange looks so Jon calls in the lost kid instead and he’s just struck with the idea of a family with the three of them and some kids

Cue panic time (again)

Ignoring the thought of children, why was Jon in his fantasy?

Luka’s just watching a smitten boy go into panic mode over the trio and while doesn’t quite know what’s going on in Damian’s head, but that was really cute and oh not again

They find the kid’s parents, and the date moves on

Jon’s more comfortable, Marinette wasn’t really bothered in the first place. Luka and Damian are now having crises

Luka makes a joke under his breath in an attempt to calm down before his Hanahaki acts up

It did not help bc Damian overhears and gives a small amused snort that made his heart stutter but hey positive interaction!

Both Marinette and Jon but end up having feelings very similar to the one Damian had earlier when they look over at Damian and Luka’s little interaction - Damian’s giving Luka a small smirk and Luka is entirely embarassed at being heard when he wasn’t hadn’t meant to be.

But then Luka gives Jon a small sign before he excuses himself to the restroom so Luka can run off and cough up his flower petals

You remember that whole thing about the kidnapping people with hanahaki so they die and medicine and things can be collected from the flowers springing up from their corpse thing? Yeah, the kids are in Gotham and there is definitely a group there that has dealings with the trade and someone saw Luka hacking up flowers

but they mark him and pull back to plan instead of kidnapping him then and there bc drama and Jon followed him to the restroom to check on him

Date ends ok and everyone’s kind of an emotional wreck

Damian has surprisingly learned his lesson on miscommunication and guiltily confides his fantasy to her like a parishioner to his priest

Marinette basically goes same and confesses about the moment she and Jon saw his interaction with Luka.

“So, We’re together, and they’re together...and I might be in love with Jon, you think you might be in love with Luka... What now?“ Damian asked, trying to make sense of it all

“We could...” Marinette swallows, “um, all four of us? together?“ she offered meekly. Seeing that Damian seemed to like the idea, she continued. “Y’know, feel out how receptive they are to the idea and then just seduce them?”

Ok, so the temporary communication skills were nice.

Because instead of talking it out with their best friends, they decide to seduce them but to be fair, there’s at least one version of this where Damian got where he did because of seduction.

Between both Damian and Marinette’s phsyical attractiveness, their combined determination and stubbornness, Damian’s assassin seduction knowledge, and Marinette’s fashion ability and tactical knowledge of where to accentuate what, Jon and Luka have no chance of leaving pining hell for the foreseeable future.

Marinette doubles down on the “double dates” aka, seduction plans in action and group hang outs, aka much more softer, subtle seduction plans

Marinette and Damian do not do much seeing how receptive they are and really just jump right into the seduction, except they adjust the plans so Luka and Jon don’t catch on so Daminette couple thinks it’s ok to go all out.

Cue seduction and pining hijinks, and a whole lot of bloodly flowers and plenty of internal screaming

Damian learns that Luka might not be too bad in the group and Jon is panicking because oh shit he’s got another crush and it’s his best friend’s girlfriend.

the quartet’s love issues are really full circle... or whatever this shape is supposed to be. Because there’s still the whole Viperion/superboy thing and - i just... I’m not going to keep analyzing this.

Somewhere during this, Jon confesses his feelings this particular friend group to Con, leaving out the whole Hanahaki thing. Con tells Tim for advice on being a big brother and things happen but I’m not sure what. I just want TimCon and the Superboys bonding

So a couple weeks pass by the Hanahaki’s getting pretty bad and Luka suddenly goes missing

Ladybug and the bats are on it as soon as they realize he’s gone

Except they are missing one, very important piece of information

Luka’s hanahaki

So, for the next few days, they don’t get anywhere until Jon slips up and ends up coughing up a shitton of bloody flowers which leads to panic, confusion and explanation, bc wtf Jon, you’re supposed to be dating Luka and that’s definitely not unrequited

So everyone gets the full explanation, the final piece of the puzzle snaps into place and the bats are on it.

Marinette and Damian have to put aside that whole revelation in order to track and save Luka before he dies of Hanahaki

They both make sure to kiss Jon first so he doesn’t get handicapped by his hanahaki like Ladybug did but he and Luka will be on thin ice once they get Luka back

So it’s pretty much a race against time bc they don’t know how bad Luka’s hanahaki is

Tracking, beat up bad guys, possible magic related villain(s) searching for potion ingredients that may take harm Superboy more than than if they weren’t there

They rescue Luka or Luka and Ssass break out as Viperion and meet them halfway.

Hey, the identity reveals!

 Either way, at the end of it, Luka ends up with Ladybug and the unconscious and they have to wait until he wakes up to administer the kiss/cure bc it doesn’t work if one party is unconscious

which sparks an interesting idea of a sleeping beauty-cinderella style hanahaki fic where it would work if they’re unconscious, and the patient has to find go out to find who cured them and I’ll have to adjust some other rules of the hanahaki disease such as who can cure it but goddamn it

So while Luka’s out, Marinette and Damian confront the possibly injured but very much awake Jon

Once Luka wakes up and is brought up to speed, they take care of his hanahaki and work out the new boundaries of their new relationship

Part one is longer and I’m a bit put out by that. This made much more sense in my head but if you got this far, my rambling must have made some sort of sense.

[yoongsisbae]

Content Tag Game

thank you @inkofyoongi for the tag and also bless you for the Poetica teaser I'm crying already!!! Yoongi and y/n kissing oh my heart.

1. what fandoms have you written for (but do not currently)? Harry Potter and Attack on Titan

2. what fandoms are you currently writing for? BTS

3. how long have you been writing? Writing online, I wrote HP ff when I was a preteen. Oh god it was horrible, it was a lot of silly meme worthy stuff, but that was half the fun in the HP fandom back in the day, then years later I tried to write one AOT ff and it did not do well lol, I think I maybe got two comments one of them being really mean lol and I gave up and left my story unfinished and moved on from ff (funnily enough I based a scene in one of my HOAL chapters off of it and no complaints so ha!...lol.) Then a friend bought me a dream journal, and I fell back in love with writing again after HOAL 🥰

4. on which platforms do you post your stories? I have a Wattpad and I just created an Ao3 to crosspost.

5. what is your favourite genre to write? Angst, I guess I am just a masochist.

6. are you a pantser or a planner? Well I am definitely not a planner, so I guess I'm a pantser lol. I rather just write the story instead of planning. I vaguely know the endings, the problem is most of my stories start out as dreams, and what usually happens in dreams??? That's right, you wake up BEFORE the ending. So then I have the arduous task of figuring out what else is supposed to happen lol, I feel like if I just write it out it will somehow magically come together in the end, planning is unnecessary stress I don't need lol.

7. one shot or multi-chapter? You know I really admire one shot writers, but I am just not built like that...

8. what is the perfect chapter length in your opinion? I would say as a writer and what I also prefer reading, between 6k and 10k is the sweet spot.

9. what is your longest published story? is it complete? Handshakes of a Lifetime is almost at 55k words 👀 and I would say it's half way done?

10. which story did you enjoy working on the most? I really love writing HOAL, some of the chapters were very therapeutic to write 🥲. During the beginning chapters I was going through a lot of chronic pain and there were long stretches where I was so engrossed I forgot about the pain which if you've ever suffered from chronic illness, is like finding a raft in the middle of the ocean. But also Run Run Run made me hysterically laugh for hours (the visuals in my head are something else man), I already know I am going to have so much fun finishing that story.

11. favourite request you’ve written and why? I don’t take requests, however there have been times when I requested myself to write lol. Instead of word vomiting all over my blog and oversharing to you guys who probably do not want to listen to my ugly problems, I said, hey, why not just take all that pain and channel it into a story instead? Because that's why people follow me after all and I'm a woman of the people lol, and that's how Blue and Grey was written. It's short and simple, and it's one of my favorite stories I've ever written.

12. are there reocurring themes in your stories? Hmmm pain lol, whether it be pleasurable pain or not lol. Again, my stories start out as dreams, so they are pretty random. I do notice there's a lot of “escaping”, that might just be a dream thing idk.

13. current number of wips? HOAL, C!HOC, RRR, BV:ITS, a cross over fandom story I am so excited for and will write before the year is up (I just somehow need to become a smarter writer before then), a cute theme story I want to release on Halloween, 6 angsty one shots for each member (Namjoon's is already written), and an unnamed invasion AU story that I hope will see the light of day, but I have so many questions as to what is going on and have to figure out those answers before I post it (also I don't know know if I should add another ongoing fic and do that to myself lol)

14. three things you have noticed about your own writing? I love cliff hangers, they are just so much fun, I truly can't help myself. I also can't help putting a hopeful spin on my writing, even when I think I shouldn't, the story would be more meaningful if I didn't, but I am a hopeless romantic so sue me. And even if my stories are very fantasy driven, I try to be as realistic as possible, especially during smut scenes, I need realism, I don't like writing unrealistic sex, so sorry if it’s not that fantastical sometimes, I try to make it up in story pacing 🥲🥲.

15. a quote you like from a published story. Chapter 4 of HOAL is full of sentences I am proud of lol. "...a storm so final in its answer, it must be controlled by the Grim Reaper himself." and "...rain droplets clash against the ocean, open like umbrellas, and the sea throws back tiny gems of water." I really tried to portray that calm before the storm feeling throughout the chapter.

16. a quote from an unpublished story. Here is a part of the unnamed story, "Namjoon never came back. You take out your phone, pull up Namjoon’s number. You don’t have a pen or pencil, and you’ve never been good at memorization. But this time you have to, you must remember the ten numbers as if your life depended on it, because you’re starting to feel like it might."

17. a space for you to say something to your readers. My dreams had been haunting me for awhile until I finally said, "okay, let me just try, I'll just try to and see if this whole writing thing will work for me." Sometimes you have thoughts that you just need to scream out into the world before they consume you and the fact that people are hearing me, and being moved in even the littlest of ways by my stories lifts the pressure off my shoulders just a bit every day. A lot of my stories are anonymous love letters to people in my life, memories I want to preserve and transform into stories people can enjoy, happy and painful, for better or for worse. So to my readers, thank you for enjoying my stories, for hearing me. ❤️

I tag: @cloudteawrites @bangtangalicious @smasmashin @alpacaparkaseok @deepdarkdelights @btsaudge @koosbabygrl and any other writer who wants to share! 💕

[thelastspeecher]

Spirit Touched - Chapter 5: Nephew

Chapter 1   Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4   Chapter 5   Chapter 6   AO3

Whoops it took me longer to update this than I planned, but it turns out that moving states takes time and effort.  Hopefully I’ll be able to update every other week for the last two chapters, but we’ll have to see.  In the meantime, enjoy the crew fawning over sick Zuko and a sudden appearance from a certain beloved uncle.

Again, this fic is inspired by @muffinlance‘s fic Salvage and fanart that @agent-jaselin did of it.

——————————————————————————————

              It started with a sneeze, the day after they fished Zuko out of the ocean for the second time.

              “Aw, you sneeze like a raccoon-kitten,” Toklo cooed. Zuko glared at him.  Then sneezed again, louder.  A few sparks appeared with the second sneeze.  “Uh, little firebenders sneeze fire?”

              “I’m not little,” Zuko growled. “But…yes.”  He sneezed again.  Toklo hurriedly stomped out any sparks that landed on the deck.

              “This won’t end well,” Panuk said quietly.

----- 

              The sneeze progressed to a full-body cough, one that was so obviously agonizing it made the crewmen wince in sympathy.

              “We need to follow you around with a bucket,” Aake rumbled, watching Panuk and Toklo rush to put out yet another fire. It appeared that accidentally producing flames wasn’t something reserved for sneezing.  Zuko sat down on the deck, even paler than usual.  He coughed again.

              “That might be a good idea,” Panuk agreed, hurrying to stomp out the new sparks.  Zuko let out a low groan.  Aake pressed the back of his hand against Zuko’s forehead.  He quickly removed it.

              “You’re sick, kiddo,” he said to Zuko.  His voice had more affection in it than he’d realized he had for the boy.  Zuko looked up at him, eyes already glazed over with fever.  “Someone better take him to the healer right away.  When someone this young gets sick, it can go bad fast.”

              “Come on, little brother,” Toklo said, scooping Zuko into his arms.  “Wow, you’re warm.”

              “No, ‘m cold,” Zuko mumbled blearily.  He let out another hacking cough.  Toklo carried Zuko to the infirmary while Panuk stayed behind to put out the third accidental fire of the day.

----- 

              As Zuko’s condition worsened further, he became less and less willing to leave his pile of furs.  Eventually, he could only leave the infirmary if carried out.  The crewmen checked in near constantly.  At first, it was just Toklo, Panuk, and Hakoda. Then Bato.  When Aake began to stop by to inquire as to the toddler’s health, Kustaa knew it was official.

              Zuko had wormed his way into the heart of every crewman.

              “I’m surprised by how frequently you poke your head in,” Kustaa remarked to Aake.  Aake stroked Zuko’s hair.

              “He reminds me so much of Sitka, especially when he’s wearing blue,” Aake said, keeping his voice soft so as to not wake up the sleeping toddler.

              “All Zuko had to do to win you over was be turned into a four-year-old.”

              “Hmph.”

              “And don’t think that I haven’t noticed you only stop by when he’s asleep.”  Kustaa smirked at Aake.  “You don’t want him to know how much you’ve come to like him.”  Aake rolled his eyes.  “Maybe once he’s better, you can be another uncle of his.”  The door to the infirmary opened.

              “Come on, Kustaa.  Let a man miss his son in peace,” Bato said, entering.  “Aake, you’re needed on deck.”

              “On my way.”  Aake’s hand lingered on the crown of Zuko’s head for a moment before he got up and left.

              “How is he?” Bato asked Kustaa.  Kustaa sighed.

              “Sick and getting sicker.”

              “Any idea what it is?”

              “Not yet.”  Kustaa looked at Zuko.  “The kid should wake up soon, and once he does, I’m going to ask a few questions about his symptoms.  I’m starting to wonder if it’s something only seen in the Fire Nation.”  Bato frowned, concerned.

              “If it’s a Fire Nation illness, would you be able to cure it?”

              “Depends on what it is.  I have the instructions for treatments of a few Fire Nation maladies,” Kustaa said.  “Not as many as I’d like, though.”  Faint stirring came from Zuko’s pile of furs, along with a weak groan.  “Are you up, nephew?”

              “I’m up,” Zuko mumbled, fighting his way free. He sat up and stretched.  “Did you want something, Bato?”

              “I just wanted to check in on the sick little pygmy puma,” Bato replied.  He ruffled Zuko’s hair.  “Feeling better?”

              “I’m not feeling worse.”  Zuko let out a hacking cough.  “Never mind.  I am.” Bato raised an eyebrow.  “What?”

              “No sparks?”

              “He hasn’t produced fire on accident for a few days now,” Kustaa said, coming over.  He put the back of his hand against Zuko’s forehead.  “Hmm.  Your fever’s getting worse.”

              “Can he firebend on purpose?” Bato asked.

              “He is right here,” Zuko grumbled.

              “Zuko, would you mind trying to create a small flame?” Kustaa requested.  Zuko held out his hands.  His brow wrinkled in concentration.  The only thing emitted, however, was a weak puff of smoke.  “Hmm.”  Kustaa stroked his beard thoughtfully.  “Bato, could you get him something to eat?”

              “Will do.”  Bato gently lifted Zuko.  “Candy and sea prunes, right?”  Kustaa frowned at him.

              “Tummy hurts too much,” Zuko said blearily. “Not hungry.”

              “Broth it is,” Bato said.  He carried Zuko out of the infirmary.  Kustaa took down his most thorough book on illnesses.

              He can’t firebend…maybe that’s the symptom that will allow me to finally diagnose him.

----- 

              Hakoda knocked gently on the door of the infirmary.

              “Come in,” said Kustaa’s calm voice.  Hakoda entered, closing the door softly behind him.

              “Any luck?” Hakoda asked.

              “Some,” Kustaa said from his spot by Zuko’s side. He gently draped a blanket over the sleeping boy.  “I’ve figured out what he has.  It’s called bender’s burnout.  It’s an illness only firebenders can have, caused by the bender’s inner flame being stifled.” Kustaa got up and walked over to his desk.  He pulled out a book.  “According to this, hypothermia or a near-drowning are the primary means by which an inner flame is stifled enough to cause bender’s burnout.”  Hakoda swore softly.

              “This happened because he went overboard again?” he asked.  Kustaa eyed Hakoda.

              “Before I identified the illness, I knew that was the cause,” Kustaa said.

              “Yes, but-”  Hakoda shook his head.  “He didn’t get this specific illness when we fished him out the first time.  Why now?”

              “Apparently, bender’s burnout is most common in the very young, because their inner flames tend to be weaker.  As a teenager, Zuko’s inner flame was strong enough to hold his own in a firefight.  As a child, well.  You’ve seen how much effort it takes him to even make sparks.”

              “What’s the cure?”

              “I don’t know,” Kustaa said softly.  His lips flattened into a thin line.  “None of my texts have information on afflictions that only affect firebenders.  I was lucky to stumble across what I did: symptoms and the cause.”  Zuko coughed weakly from his pile of furs.  Hakoda looked over at the boy.  Zuko’s already pale skin was corpse-white, his forehead shone with a thin sheen of sweat, yet he was shivering intensely.  “If we hope to cure him, we’ll need to find a healer who has expertise on firebenders.”

              “Where would we find one of those?”

              “We could try the next port,” Kustaa said with a shrug.  “People believe us when we say Zuko is a war bastard for a reason.  There’s a lot of them.  And where there are firebenders, there are healers who know how to treat them.”

              “There’s no other way to help Zuko?” Hakoda asked softly.  A long moment passed.  Kustaa shook his head.

              “Bender’s burnout doesn’t go away on its own.  It needs to be treated.  And I don’t know how.”  Zuko tossed fitfully in his sleep.

              “How long does he have?”

              “I’m not sure,” Kustaa admitted.  “But my nephew is far more stubborn than anyone else I’ve met.  As long as I can continue to manage his symptoms, he should hang on until we make port again.”  Hakoda walked over to Zuko.  He brushed sweat-drenched hair out of the boy’s face.  Zuko leaned into the gesture with a faint smile.  Hakoda’s heart ached.  Zuko was so young, too young.

              “I’ll tell everyone we’re changing course. We’ll head for the nearest port.”

----- 

              The Akhlut finally arrived at a bustling Earth Kingdom town.  Hakoda carried Zuko, buried in furs, off the ship.  Kustaa followed close behind.  They approached the first person they saw.

              “Excuse me, but we need a healer,” Hakoda said urgently.

              “Ryo is-” the man started.  Kustaa stepped forward.

              “We need one specializing in firebender ailments,” he said softly.  The man’s eyes widened.

              “I hope we can trust you,” Hakoda said.  He put as much weight into the words as he could.

              “Of course,” the man said.  “My son’s best friend is a war bastard.  The boy goes to Healer Lee, on the outskirts of town.”

              “Thank you,” Hakoda said gratefully.  He reached into his pockets for money.  The man shook his head.

              “Save your money for your…”

              “Nephew,” Kustaa said.

              “Save the money for him.”

              “Thank you,” Hakoda repeated.  Zuko let out a weak cough.  “Hang in there, Nuktuk.”

----- 

              This town was lovely.  Iroh enjoyed the friendly townspeople.  But he couldn’t help being disappointed.  It was yet another dead end.  He had yet to find any sign of his missing nephew anywhere.

              In a sea of green and brown, there was a sudden burst of blue.  Iroh looked curiously at the two Water Tribe men rushing through the crowded town square. His eyes widened.  They were the same men he’d seen shortly before he arrived at the North Pole.  Iroh’s heart sank as he realized that one man wasn’t just carrying furs; a young boy was hidden within them.

              What was the boy’s name?  Nuktuk?  Nuktuk looked deathly ill.  Concerned for the boy’s health, Iroh followed from a safe distance.  They had just exited town when Nuktuk began to thrash in his father’s arms.

              “Lemme down, lemme down!” Nuktuk whined loudly. “I gotta-”  Nuktuk’s father (step-father, more likely – the boy seemed to be a war bastard) hurriedly set the boy on the ground.  Nuktuk stumbled forward and vomited.  His father knelt next to him, rubbing his back.

              “Are you okay to be carried again, Zuko?” the man asked.  Iroh’s breath caught in his throat.  The boy straightened.  Now close enough to see him well, there was no doubt as to who the child was.  Iroh would recognize his nephew anywhere, with or without the horrid scar on his face.

              What have the spirits done?

              “Zuko, we need to go to the healer,” said the second man.  Zuko nodded. “Can the chief pick you up again?”

              “I…”  Zuko trailed off.  He had caught sight of Iroh.  Their eyes met.  “Uncle!” Zuko sprinted away from the men, directly for Iroh.  Iroh dropped to his knees.  He held his arms out.  Zuko collided with him.

              “Prince Zuko,” Iroh croaked, embracing his nephew as tightly as he could.  He could feel Zuko’s fever through his clothes.  “Nephew, what are you doing?”

              “Seeing a healer,” Zuko replied.  Iroh held him out at arm’s length.  Zuko’s beautiful golden eyes, normally sharp like a hawk’s, were unfocused and cloudy with fever.

              “You certainly need one.”

              “Excuse me?”  Iroh looked up.  The tribesmen had walked over.  Iroh stood. He kept a hand on Zuko’s shoulder. “Are you really his uncle?  General Iroh?”

              “Yes, I am,” Iroh said.  Zuko smiled at him.  “I have many questions, but I think they can wait until my nephew has seen a healer.”  The men looked relieved.

              “That would be best, yes,” said one.  “We got directions from someone in the village.”  Iroh picked Zuko up.  Zuko nestled against his chest.

              “Lead the way,” Iroh said firmly.

----- 

              Iroh and the tribesmen sat outside the healer’s house.  Zuko had been treated, but needed to rest for a while before the healer would let him leave.

              “We should probably introduce ourselves,” one of the tribesmen said abruptly.  “I am Chief Hakoda of the Southern Water Tribe.  My companion is our healer, Kustaa.”  Healer Kustaa bowed his head.

              “Why did you need to bring Zuko to a different healer, if you had one?” Iroh asked.

              “I’m not well-versed in firebender ailments,” Healer Kustaa replied.  Iroh hummed softly.

              “By the way, thank you, General, for not attacking when you saw Zuko,” Chief Hakoda said.  Iroh leaned back.

              “You don’t get to be my age as a soldier unless you learn to take stock of a situation fast,” Iroh said.  “The immediate concern was my nephew’s health, not you.”  He chuckled softly.  “Not to offend you or anything.”

              “No, I understand,” Chief Hakoda said.  He leaned forward, his hands resting on his knees. “But I still appreciate it.  To be frank, we wouldn’t have stood a chance against you.”  Iroh chuckled again.

              “I know.  So, how did you come to have my nephew with you?  I received a letter from a friend in the Northern Water Tribe telling me you had Zuko, but the letter didn’t provide many details.”

              “We pulled him out of the ocean, half-dead,” Healer Kustaa said.

              “Thankfully, the spirits stepped in, ensuring you rescued a young boy.  If you had come across a Fire Nation teenager, you would have had a drastically different reaction.”  The tribesmen looked at him, bemused.  “I have seen firsthand the realities of war; I know what would have happened if you stumbled across someone old enough to be a soldier for the opposing side.”

              “He wasn’t a toddler when we rescued him,” Chief Hakoda said slowly.  “That particular…situation is more recent.”

              “Then you are bigger men than I would have been in my days as a soldier,” Iroh said.  The men exchanged a look.  Clearly, they were holding something back.  But Iroh knewit would be best to wait patiently for further information, rather than immediately pry.  “Thank you for taking care of him.”

              “Well, the kid’s more endearing than he realizes,” Healer Kustaa said.  “Our youngest crewmen befriended him quickly.  Once he had them on his side, it was all over.”  Iroh beamed.

              “I’m very glad to hear that he has been working on his social skills.  My nephew tends to struggle to make friends.”  Iroh adjusted his seat slightly.  “How long has Prince Zuko been like this?”

              “A handful of months.  He’s actually spent more time with us as a toddler than as a teenager,” Chief Hakoda said.  “And before you ask, we don’t know why the spirits did this to him.”

              “Zuko might know,” Healer Kustaa said suddenly. Chief Hakoda and Iroh looked at him. “The incident that made him fall overboard, which caused him to get so sick?  He’s been talking about it in his sleep.  Most of what he says is nonsense, since he’s been so feverish.  But every now and then, he mumbles something about talking to a young woman in the moon.”

              “The young woman…”  Iroh leaned forward.  “Prince Zuko wouldn’t happen to be calling her by name, would he?”  Healer Kustaa raised an eyebrow.

              “He’s called her Yue.”

              “A Water Tribe name,” Chief Hakoda remarked.

              “Yes, but also the name of the new Moon Spirit,” Iroh said.  Chief Hakoda and Healer Kustaa sobered immediately.

              “We heard about that,” Chief Hakoda said. “Like everyone else, we saw the moon go dark.  When we crossed paths with our sister tribe, they informed us of the tragedy that happened during the Siege of the North.”

              “Yes.  It was most distressing,” Iroh said solemnly.  “I was there.”  The door of the healer’s home opened.

              “He’s awake now,” Healer Lee said.  Zuko toddled out of the house.  “Kustaa, come inside, I’ll go over the continuation of his treatment.”  Healer Kustaa nodded.  He got up and followed Healer Lee inside, ruffling Zuko’s hair on his way.  Zuko sat between the two men.  He beamed at Iroh.

              “I thought I had only dreamed that you were back,” Zuko said happily.  Iroh rested the back of his hand against his nephew’s forehead.  The boy was still feverish, but whatever the healer had done clearly put him on the mend.

              “No, Prince Zuko, I’ve found you,” Iroh said warmly. A strange look crossed Zuko’s face. He looked down at his adorably minute feet.

              “Just Zuko, Uncle,” he mumbled.  Iroh hid his surprise at the request.

              “If you insist, nephew.”  The enormous smile was back.

              “Are you going to join the ship?” Zuko chirped. His grin broadened.  “You could get a fake name, too!”

              “I was hoping that the Water Tribe would be kind enough to let me accompany you, yes,” Iroh said with a nod.  Chief Hakoda grimaced.  “Chief Hakoda, I recognize that you would not be comfortable with two firebenders aboard your ship, but-”  The chief was already shaking his head.

              “You seem a sensible man, General.  As such, you should understand that it’s not my comfort I need to think of, but the comfort of my men.  They would not want the Dragon of the West on our ship.” Iroh’s heart sunk.  He bowed his head.

              “Yes, I understand.”

              “What?  But- Uncle!” Zuko whined.  Iroh put a gentle hand on his nephew’s shoulder.

              “Nephew, what is right may not be what I want to do. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t do it. What is right is that the men who have helped you so much stay comfortable.  I cannot be on the ship.”  He squeezed Zuko’s shoulder, his heart heavy.  “And what is right is that you continue to be treated for your illness. You need to stay with Chief Hakoda, so that Healer Kustaa can take care of you.”

              “But-”

              “Chief Hakoda,” Iroh said abruptly.  “Is your ship headed for a specific destination?”

              “Yes.”  Chief Hakoda eyed Iroh.  “Can I trust you with it?”

              “Pakku trusts him,” Zuko piped up.  “I trust him.  Isn’t that enough?”  Chief Hakoda wavered for a moment before sighing.

              “Fine.  We’re headed to Chameleon Bay, to help the Earth Kingdom Army protect Ba Sing Se.”

              “I’ll meet you there.”  Iroh smiled at Zuko.  “Maybe during my travels, I’ll stumble across a way to return you to your appropriate age.”  Zuko’s eyes widened.  Healer Kustaa emerged from the house.

              “Come on, nephew, you need to lay down for more rest,” Healer Kustaa said, taking Zuko’s hand.  Iroh tensed.  “Oh.” Healer Kustaa managed a wry smile. “When he was feverish and ill shortly after we brought him on board, he mistook me for you and called me ‘uncle’. Since then, I’ve called him my nephew.”

              “…I see,” Iroh said slowly.  He stood.  “I should leave.  It will take me longer to arrive at Chameleon Bay, given I won’t be traveling by ship.”

              “Before you leave,” Chief Hakoda said, standing as well, “would you please tell me what happened at the North Pole?  Our sister tribe didn’t inform us of any of the specifics, just that the Avatar had been involved in the battle and that the Moon Spirit was killed and revived.”

              “It may have been too painful,” Iroh said. “I am more than willing to share with you what I witnessed.  But if you don’t mind, I’d like to say goodbye to my nephew.”  Chief Hakoda nodded.  Iroh turned to Zuko.  He knelt on the ground.  “Nephew…” Zuko pulled free of Healer Kustaa’s hold and rushed forward to embrace Iroh.

              “I don’t want you to leave, Uncle,” he whispered. Iroh rubbed Zuko’s back.

              “I know, Zuko.  But remember what I said.  I can’t do what I want.  I must do what is right.”  Iroh removed something from his pocket, an item he had been holding on to since Zuko was lost at sea.  “Here.” He handed the knife to Zuko.  Zuko took it from him with awe in his eyes. “Do you remember this?”

              “Never give up without a fight,” Zuko said softly. Iroh smiled.

              “That’s right.  You are waging many battles right now, young nephew.  But keep fighting.”

              “I will, Uncle,” Zuko said, holding the knife close to his chest.  Iroh ruffled his hair.

              “Good.  Then I will see you soon.”  Iroh stood and watched Healer Kustaa lead his nephew away.  Once Zuko was out of sight, he turned to Chief Hakoda.  “I am willing to share my stories, but I would like more information as to my nephew’s stay with you in return.”  Chief Hakoda nodded.

              “I expected as such.”  The men began to walk together.  “Where would you like me to start?”  Iroh sighed, glad to ask the question he’d had since he saw Zuko.

              “Why is my nephew dressed like a Water Tribe child?”

----- 

              “Hold that pose,” Toklo instructed.  Zuko wobbled slightly.  “C’mon, little brother, just a bit longer!”  Zuko’s legs gave out.  He collapsed to the deck, coughing.  “Maybe we should go back to the basics.”

              “No, those katas are for babies,” Zuko snapped.  He coughed again.  Hakoda, who had been observing Zuko’s practice, crouched next to him.

              “You’re only four and recovering from an illness. Pushing yourself right now would do more harm than good,” he said, his voice gentle but firm.  “Once you’ve stopped coughing so much, you can move on to the more complicated forms.  But for now, I agree with Toklo.”  Zuko scowled.

              Zuko’s treatment involved him actively practicing firebending.  The healer had informed Kustaa that Zuko developed bender’s burnout in large part due to Zuko restricting his firebending to simple meditations.

              “He said to me, ‘Water Tribe people might not be very educated, but that’s no excuse for making a young bender suppress his art.  No matter the element, if they avoid bending, they’ll become ill,’” Kustaa vented angrily once Hakoda had returned to the ship.  “I tried to tell him that the kid didn’t want to bend, but he wouldn’t hear it.”

              “Zuko needs to practice firebending, then, to get better?” Hakoda asked.  Kustaa nodded.

              “And to stave off future bending-related illnesses.  He gave me a scroll with forms for children Zuko’s age.”  Kustaa handed Hakoda said scroll.  “My nephew probably already knows most of these forms, but I guess we could use them as a reference to make sure he’s doing them right.”

              Hakoda took the scroll from Toklo and looked over the forms for the easiest.

              “Turtle-duck pose,” he instructed.  Zuko scowled, but did as he was told.  “Good work, kid.”  Zuko’s scowl was replaced with a grin that stretched ear to ear.

              Initially, Zuko had brushed off any compliments he got on his bending forms.  Hakoda had a feeling that Zuko’s reaction was because he didn’t believe them. Thankfully, it only took a week for the boy to shift gears from doubt to exuberance at being told he had done a good job.

              “Chief?” Bato called from his spot at the ship’s bow. Hakoda ruffled Zuko’s hair, handed the scroll back to Toklo, and walked to his second-in-command.

              “What is it?” Hakoda asked.  Bato handed him a spyglass silently.  When Hakoda looked through it, he swore.  “Fire Nation.”

              “Yes.”  Bato’s face darkened as he stared in the direction of the ship he’d spotted.  “And they’ve definitely seen us.  We won’t be able to avoid battle.”

              “You’re right.”  Hakoda swallowed.  “Hopefully, Zuko will sleep through it.”

              “He’s a light sleeper.”

              “Not lately.  Being sick can make you sleep like the dead.”  Hakoda handed the spyglass back to Bato.  “I’ll inform the crew to prepare for battle.”  Hakoda looked back at Zuko.  The toddler was unsteadily working through the basic firebending forms for Toklo.  “And I’ll see if Kustaa can put him to bed earlier than usual, so that he misses the fight.”

----- 

              Zuko did sleep through the entire battle. Better than that, however, was that no one on the ship had fallen.  Any blood stains or scorch marks on the deck were hurriedly scrubbed away before Zuko could see, though he did get told the day after.  Like before, Zuko sat watch with a small flame in his palms.

              The rest of the trip passed by without incident. Not just Hakoda, but the crew as a whole felt a swell of pride as Zuko became more confident in his bending practice, progressing from the basic steps to the intermediate ones quickly.  Well, the ones considered intermediate for his age. The boy was eager to begin the advanced movements, but Hakoda felt they were still beyond his ability.  Not to mention, the advanced katas seemed more likely to accidentally set the boat on fire.

              “Finally!” Zuko whooped as they landed at Chameleon Bay. “I miss dry land.”  Scattered chuckles sounded among the crew.  Bato stopped him from rushing down the gangplank after Hakoda.

              “Hold on, little warrior.  Before we come ashore, the Chief needs to meet with whoever’s in charge.”  Zuko cocked his head curiously at Bato.

              “Isn’t Chief Hakoda in charge?  I thought he was the leader of the entire Southern Fleet.”

              “He is, but it’s still important to announce ourselves to the person that has been running things.  Once we’ve settled in, the Chief will take over.”

              “The Chief also needs to let the other men know we’ve got a Fire Nation brat on board,” Aake added.  Zuko frowned at him.  “Otherwise, you might get a chilly welcome.”

              “I guess,” Zuko muttered, crossing his arms. Bato ruffled his hair.

              “Go help Kustaa take stock of the infirmary supplies while we figure things out, okay?” Bato said.  Zuko sighed and toddled off.  Bato shook his head, hiding a smile.  “Damn kid really weaseled his way into all of our hearts.”

              “I’m taking bets on how quickly he does the same to the tribesmen already here,” Panuk drawled.  “So far, no one’s put anything down on it taking any longer than a month.”

              “Well, yeah, those odds are too slim,” Toklo said. “My little brother’s gonna have everyone eating out of his hand in a couple weeks at most.  Especially with his lingering cough.”  According to Kustaa, Zuko was no longer ill.  His occasional coughs were just the result of his sickness irritating his throat.

              “I agree,” Bato said.  “‘Nuktuk’ has a very endearing backstory.”  He looked at Panuk.  “Put me down for twelve days.”

[akvtsuki-ari]

Sweetheart (Ch.1)

Warnings: Mentions of BDSM and bunch of other kinks but nothing sexual in this chapter lol. Sub!Spencer and Femdom!Reader 

Length: 5.3k 

Authors Note: this is hands down the most self-indulgent shit ive ever wrote but do i care? the answer is no dsjk  but this that series i had planned where the reader introduces spencer to proper BDSM and all that. hoping to make this fic kinda informative also lol. also im uploading this fic on ao3 as well. also no tags for this fic bc its really specific and ill probably be writing for it for a while! sorry about that

Plot Summary: Spencer Reid just wanted to be.., well, you know. He doesn’t expect to find much when he signs up for a BDSM dating website but somehow he manages you and he couldn’t be more delighted

Spencer Reid was certainly a lot of things. He was a lover of the arts, someone who had a particular affinity for 15th-century literature, a magician at best, a theater nerd at worst, and a teacher when life called for it. He loves the world even when it's really dark and he loves sleeping in even more. He loves his friends and they love him too - even when they pretend that his random facts annoy them. Spencer Reid was a friend, an FBI agent, a genius with an IQ of 187, and a son to a mother he loves wholly. He was a lot of things and for the most part - he knew a lot about what he really loved to do. He supposed that it's been like that his whole life.

It's not everyday that he discovers something new about himself. About everything else? Always. He loves to learn, but about himself? There's never all that much on the frontier.

It's hard to say, because of that, when Spencer discovered he was a sub. It's difficult to pinpoint a specific time and place, or even how the pieces got put together. He just remembers how it felt when it hit him, like a freight train going 100 miles an hour into a concrete wall. Or a plane crashing onto an island. Or like a fly hitting the glass panes of a delivery truck. He remembers the feeling when he was deftly reminded of this fact. Spencer Reid was a sub - through and through and he wasn't really sure what to make of it.

Surprisingly to most of his direct peers, Spencer wasn't a virgin. He'd had sex with 2 people who he'd been kinda friends with at some point, but it always got a little weird after that. The second time though, the girl ended up choking him a little bit when she got off and Spencer thought he had died. Not in a bad way, more in a "I'm so turned on by this I feel like I've genuinely gone to heaven," sort of way. He didn't think it was possible for a sexual encounter to make him feel like that but it did. It didn't stop after that either, which was the most agitating part. 

Spencer doesn't consider himself a sexual person. Sex is about intimacy and companionship, and hopefully love when he finds that someday. Sex isn't necessarily about pleasure but that wasn't an easy lesson to learn.

Spencer just wanted to understand - so like any great genius he participated in thought experiments. It's normally a female superhero/supervillain that crosses his mind (he has an affinity for Poison Ivy), and he just kinda imagines what it would be like if they did what she did. The choking turned him on, but it wasn't enough. Through that, he figures out that he had more than a choking kink and that he was more than a little interested in a partner having complete access to him. He thought about it for weeks and the getting off was working for him but he couldn't get the fantasy out of his head. He wanted more - he wanted someone to fulfill his wishes.

It was too much for him to ignore. Those months of being able to hold off through masturbating are over and he's just sorta itching. Aching to act on those impulses with another person who can give him what he needs, and he doesn't want it to be transactional. Maybe it's too ideal to want a partner out of such an endeavor but was it so wrong? To want real affection and romance from someone who could also overpower him wasn't a crime and he'd be damned if he pretended to want any less. Spencer was just searching, even if it was rather desperately. 

So, when Spencer finds himself on a BDSM dating site and he feels like his life is in shambles, he can only blame himself. It's not something he'd normally do but he's getting a little more than relentless about it but he also just wants to see what's out there. He's so out of it was it happens, it felt like he was being possessed as he made a fake email and wrote out his account information. Definitely blaming it on possession, he thinks. 

It's too late to go back, as he scrolls through tons of profiles of rather intense looking people. He's not surprised, this is where people go to express themselves. They're entitled to that, it just sucks since he's just not ready for such levels of intensity. He wonders if he's in too deep yet, but he figures he'd hit that mark a long time ago and keeps scrolling through profiles. There wasn't much to go off of, many people not choosing to use photos for the sake of anonymity, which was good for Spencer. He clicks onto his own profile, reading his own bio carefully.

USERNAME: DOC187 

SUB/ SWITCH / DOM 

M / F / O

FETISHES: N/A

BIO: Interest in a dominant female companion. Completely inexperienced.

Spencer feels ridiculous, but he doubts anyone would even message him. He doesn't have much on his profile and he keeps things short for that purpose. He wanted to stay as low to the ground as possible - more curious to explore what was going in the world than to find anything legitimate. He scrolls through hundreds of profiles, mostly of people who were BDSM vets looking for new connections or fun. Some people catch his eye but they don't match his interests so he doesn't bother.

Except, one profile. The bio was beyond interesting to Spencer.

USERNAME: MISS—LILAC

SUB / SWITCH / DOM 

M / F / O 

FETISHES: Sadomasochist, Degradation, Humiliation, Pegging, Overstimulation, Edging, Crossdressing, Exhibitionism, Mutual Masturbation, Dacryphilia, Shibari/Gags/Bondage, Wax Play, Impact Play, Breath Play, General Sensation Play, Discipline, Collaring, Begging. Willing to try most things. 

BIO: Interested in submissive males of any experience level. Helps if you're interesting and like to read and watch indie films. Looking for genuine connection and plenty of good banter. Curly hair is nice too. lol.

Before Spencer can think about it for too long his mouse clicks over that stupid little message button next to your profile. Spencer shakes his head at his own existence as he types you a message. Says you're online right now, but Spencer's sure he won't get a response for a while.

DOC187: Seems I fit who you're interested in. I even have the curly hair.

Spencer chews on his nails anxiously before he sighs at himself. He has no clue what's gotten into him belle before he can think he sees your 3-dotted bubble pop up. He feels his body wracked with nerves.

MISS—LILAC: I'm guessing you like to read and watch indie films too?

Spencer smiles. You seem interesting and the fact that the two of you were just talking normal was making Spencer happy.

DOC187: Indeed. I'm a sucker for 15-century literature and anything in Russian and foreign language. You?

MISS—LILAC: 15th century huh? I'll assume Chaucer. And Russian? You're interesting, doc. I'm more modern and English, hope you're not deterred.

Spencer smiles, surprised that you recognize an author as niche as Chaucer. He shakes his head at your commentary. He almost forgets that both of you are on a BDSM dating site and the irony doesn't escape him.

DOC187: Deterred? Never. I think you're rather interesting too, Miss Lilac.

MISS—LILAC: Ever the gentleman doc. I'm hoping you won't run away if I ask you more personal questions.

Spencer swallows. He types back quickly.

DOC187: What kinds of questions?

MISS—LILAC: If it's okay, you're real name and what you do. My names Y/N, and I'm a florist. I live in DC and I love romance novels.

Spencer smiles. He appreciates you laying down the path for him, knowing the stakes.

DOC187: My names Spencer and I work for the FBI. I also live in DC, and I love magic.

MISS—LILAC: Magic? I'd love for you to show me sometime.

Spencer swallows. Part of him feels like it's a stupid idea to ask you out so early but if you asked, he'd likely say yes. He decides to wait it out.

DOC187: I'd be more than happy to show you.

MISS—LILAC: I suppose you could send me a video but that's not the same as seeing the magic in real life, now is it?

Spencer is smiling like an idiot at this point. He shakes his head a little, jittery.

DOC187: Infinitely better live, I would say.

MISS—LILAC: Seems like I've found an excuse to ask you on a date then. Saturday's work for me but I'm sure it depends on you, FBI man. Before that, I'm gonna drop my number and I'll be expecting your call. (XXX-XXX-XXXX)

Spencer giggles. It's a little out of range for things he's used to doing, giggling aloud for someone else is certainly new. Spencer picks up his phone and dials away, anxious to call you but excited nonetheless. He heard you pick up the phone and his heart catches in his throat.

"Hello?," Your voice is smooth, and a little bit lower than he was expecting. It sounds pretty.

"Hello, Y/N," Spencer says back. He heard you laugh on the other side and can't help the way his heart flutters.

"Lovely to talk to you doc,"

"Still Doc? Not Spencer?" Spencer questions. You smile on the other side of the line.

"Doc seems to fit you. But, for the sake of formality, hello Spencer,"

"I like Doc too, but it feels like I should have a nickname for you as well. Only seems fair," Spencer says laughing quietly.

"If it's your prerogative you can call me Miss Lilac, or just Miss but..." you trail off for a minute. Spencer squints.

"Miss is a title, you know? Doesn't seem fair for you to call me that when I haven't earned it from you yet. I'm sure we'll get there but for now you can just call me Y/N," you say softly. Spencer blushes bright red, his voice betraying him as he speaks.

"O-Oh, well um - where does the name Lilac come from? Normally people go with their names when it comes to stuff like that," Spencer says shyly. He heard you laugh on the other side of the phone and blushes again, grateful you can't see him.

"I love the language of flowers and flowers themselves. It's a way to speak that not many people know - but I like the meaning and look of lilacs. White lilacs represent purity, so that was a bit of irony, but light purple lilacs mean first love," you say carefully.

"First love?," Spencer asks. You bite your lip for a moment.

"I joke that BDSM is my first love since it's such a big part of my life. Not as big as some but not small for certain. It gave me much needed confidence so I joke that it was my first," You say lightly. You hear Spencer giggle on the other side and you smile.

"What about your username? Any significance to DOC187 that I should know of?," you readjust your seat on your couch as you talk. Spencer grows a bit embarrassed.

"I normally introduce myself as Doctor Spencer Reid for work, not a medical doctor but I have three PhD's," Spencer admits. You raise your brows but hear the hesitation in his voice.

"Very, very impressive doc. What about the 187? It could be a plain ol' number but my guess would be otherwise,"

"That's my IQ, actually. I don't think intelligence can be boiled down and quantified like that but I couldn't think of anything else," Spencer explains.

"So you're a certified genius with 3 PhD's? To say I'm impressed is an understatement. Anything else impressive you'd like to tell me before I totally pick your brains," you say a little shocked.

"You wanna pick my brains?," Spencer asks. You wanna laugh at the irony of such a silly question from such an intelligent man but you refrain.

"Who wouldn't?," you say incredulously. Spencer smiles shyly.

"The only other thing is that I can read 20,000 words per minute," Spencer says trying to deflect. Your jaw dropped before but it manages to unhinge a little further.

"There's a lot to get to know about you Doctor Reid,"

"I'm sure it's the same for you," Spencer replies.

"Guess we'll have to find out won't we?," you say smiling.

Damn, Spencer got lucky. Hopefully he'd get to find out soon

_____

"Reid, are you listening?," Derek's voice snaps Spencer out of his entranced state. His smiling expression snaps up to look at Derek who looks a little exasperated.

"Sorry, what was that?," Spencer asks back. Derek puts down the case file they were working on. They had just finished a case and needed to complete some paperwork before submitting it for review and to be used in court. The job was given to him and Morgan and Spencer was evidently distracted.

"Alright, kid - what is up with you? All case you've been checking your phone non-stop and spacing out, all smiles and giggles. C'mon now kid, seriously. You got a little lady at home waiting for you or is there something else I don't know about?," Derek interrogates. Spencer doesn't really know what to make of it, though it's not really in his interest to hide you, it hasn't really come up with anyone on the team yet so it was proving difficult to decide what to do. The smile on his face manages to appear again as he starts to think about you, the tips of his ears red.

"Reid," Morgan says again, with a small look of irritation.

"Her names Y/N," Spencer blurts out faster than he can't think. Derek gives him a huge grin, holding his hand out to dap Spencer up. Spencer just looks at it confused for a second before getting the memo.

"'My man," Derek says chuckling. Before Spencer can continue Prentiss, JJ, and Garcia walk in. Hotch is the only one missing, and Spencer's a little grateful.

"What are we celebrating in here you guys?," Prentiss asks first. Spencer goes to say something to move away from his sudden confession but Derek is quick to cut him off.

"Our boy genius over here got him a little lady," Derek announces. The whole team erupts in questions and Spencer wants to bury himself.

"Congratulations, Spencer!! How long have you two been dating?," Prentiss asks.

"You guys are so dramatic. It's only been two months but no first date because well..." Spencer trails off. JJ just nods her head.

"Duty calls, I'm guessing" JJ finishes. Spencer nods deflated hearing Emily draw a breath between her teeth.

"That's tough, Spence,"

Just as Spencer goes to give a response back he gets a text from you that makes his day a little better. It's a selfie of you at work, a picture your employee must've taken of you in a room full of new flower deliveries. You're giving Spencer a toothy grin as you hold a bunch of gardenias in your hand.

Y/N 🌸: *image attachment* 

Gardenias// You're lovely + Secret Love <33

Spencer cannot control the way his whole face bunches up in a smile, as if there's no one else in the room with him. Everyone just looks at him surprised, Garcia giving him a side-eye.

"How can you guys trust this stranger? We don't even know who she is! I haven't even run any background checks on her," Garcia complains. Prentiss nudges her side.

"I don't know if it matters - look at how hard he's smiling over there," Prentiss says. Garcia reluctantly looks and can't help but sigh.

"Okay well he seems really happy but still! We don't even know her," she pouts.

"I'm sure we'll meet her soon," JJ snickers at Spencer's lovestruck expression. Derek leans over Spencer's shoulder and raises his brows.

"Is that her, kid?," Derek asks. Spencer nods, simply staring at the picture you sent. Derek whistles when he sees you - you're genuinely stunning and he's surprised to say the least.

"Hot mama, pretty boy - how'd you manage that?," Derek asks, dumbfounded. Emily rolls her eyes.

"C'mon Derek, I'm sure - oh wow," Emily leans over Spencer's shoulder to see you and is met with the same reaction. JJ and Garcia are quick to follow thereafter, both looking equally as surprised.

"She's..." JJ trails off. The rest of the team just nods as Spencer grins ear to ear.

Spencer 🐻: Beautiful, as always.

Spencer ignores the rest of the team as they look at each other in disbelief.

Y/N🌸: Me or the flowers, Doc?

Spencer🐻: Both, but mostly you.

"Wow, Spencer you're really -" Prentiss starts

"You're whipped, kid. I mean seriously whipped," Derek finishes, nodding in agreement. JJ can't help but smile, giving Spencer a small pat on the back.

"She seems lovely, Spencer. How'd you two meet?," JJ says. Garcia stands around looking rather suspicious. A blush creeps onto Spencer's neck as he's reminded of how you two met.

"Online," Spencer says shortly. No one decides to question it, and Spencer thanks every god he can think of.

"Have you two FaceTimed yet? How can we know she's not, I don't know - catfishing you? Or scamming you in some other cyber criminal way?," Garcia sounds distressed. Spencer gives a small smile.

"We fall asleep over FaceTime every night," Spencer admits. Penelope's expression falls, and Prentiss gives a smile.

"That is disgustingly cute," JJ says laughing.

"Okay, well - I'm still running a background check on her," Garcia says stubbornly "But, I'm happy for you,"

"Thanks Garcia," Spencer mumbles out as he texts you again.

Y/N🌸: I wanna see you, love

Spencer blushes red as he reads your message. The word love makes his whole face hot.

Spencer🐻: I can't take a selfie for my life

Y/N🌸: You're with your team aren't you? Get them to take a picture of you.

Spencer wants to fold away, not ever really being the picture type, but how could he ever deny you.

Spencer🐻: How could I ever say no to you?

"Hey guys, can one of you take a picture of me for Y/N?" Spencer asks embarrassingly red. The whole team sends him a look of surprise.

"I'll take it Spence, try not to look as uncomfortable as you do right now," JJ says. The whole team refrains from laughing as Spencer gives an awkward smile. He thanks JJ who hands him back his phone before texting you again.

Spencer🐻: *image attachment* You owe me one

Y/N🌸: you're stunning as always. hadn't seen you in so long I almost forgot what you looked like.

Spencer🐻: stunnings an interesting choice of words.

Y/N🌸: I said what I said, doc. 

Spencer can't help but do a little giggle, that causes the whole team to give him a look. Morgan just shakes his head, shrugging. Emily, JJ, and Garcia just look at each other before the room draws into a subtle but comfortable silence as Spencer just smiles, totally unaware of how whipped he happened to look. He didn’t seem to mind either way. 

___

"How was work?," Spencer asks over the phone, kicking his shoes off as he looks into his fridge for something to eat. He hears you sigh on the other side of the line.

"Busy today - wedding season is coming up so tons of calls for centerpiece designs and costs. It's going well though, business couldn't be better," you say, clearly tired yet content. Spencer gives a small smile and feels relieved that things are going okay for you.

"That's really good. I'm glad you're feeling alright," Spencer replies. You ease into the couch as you talk to Spencer, relaxing by the second. 

"What about you, FBI man? You have an okay day?," Your voice is full of a gentle concern that Spencer appreciates.

"Yeah, just paperwork and JJ said that we shouldn't have any upcoming cases this week to be worried about so I have the weekend off," Spencer says without thought.

"Have any special plans for the weekend?," you say cheekily. Spencer, still not having caught on, shakes his head for a second.

"No, why?,"

"Hm... well - would you like to go on a date with me then Doctor Reid?," You ask, giggling. Spencer's eyes widen in realization as he facepalms for a moment.

"Wow, I didn't even think... yes - yes I would love to go on a date with you Y/N," Spencer says laughing at his own misfortune. You shake your head instinctively, but the growing smile and even further growing adoration makes it hard to sit still.

"Hey, Spencer," you say, butterflies filling your stomach.

"Yeah?"

"I really like you,"

____

Saturday comes quicker than Spencer can really understand. You told him not to worry about what the days plans would be but he can't help it. Anxiously awaiting you in front of the cafe that the two of you were supposed to meet at, in a part of town Spencer hasn't really seen before. You said that you'd lead the way and the irony isn't lost on him.

"Spencer?," Your voice is small, as you call out to what you think is Spencer Reid. Of course, you'd seen him before but to see him in person like this was still so unfamiliar. His head shoots up, eyes searching for you. He's delighted to have found you, certainly that was true as he walks towards you. Your arms envelop him in a friendly hug and he can't help but find himself sinking into. You smelled sweet, like fruit and flowers (which makes sense, the more he thinks about it)

"Lovely to finally meet you, Y/N,"

"Same goes for you, doc. Would you like to be informed of our plans for the day, or do you prefer the element of surprise?,"  You ask smiling. Spencer laughs at your question.

"Details would be appreciated, but I get the feeling you're not gonna give me those."

"You're right! It's a trick question, since it's a surprise. But, promise it'll be good,"

"I'll take your word for it then," Spencer says with a small smile. You hold your hand out for Spencer which he accepts, locking his hands with yours. The affection makes him feel full of warmth, as you lead him away for the day you had planned for the both of you.

___

Spencer underestimated how well you knew him. He really, really did. It's hard to explain since Spencers been on a date before but this was so profoundly different. He's a little touched, but beyond that he's just.. surprised? Every date he'd been on before this, he'd have to play the gentleman but it never seemed like the other person was interested in just him. It was always casual small-talk over dinner, or a mid-day coffee date or something else that just felt mundane but this was beyond Spencer's imagination.

The first place you took him was a bookstore - which was in Spencers mind already a winner for best date he'd ever been on. You walked inside with him and told him he had to pick up a book for you and you had to pick up a book for him and to say his heart absolutely fluttered would be an understatement. He picked up up a copy of "The Screwtape Tales," by C.S. Lewis for you, and you gave him a copy of Shel Silverstein's "Where The Sidewalk Ends." For you, you got a glimpse to see what Spencer's sense of humor was and you gave Spencer a piece of your childhood. Both equal but opposite forms of intimacy. The only thing was Spencer had to wait to read his book because it's relatively shorter than yours and he reads 20,000 words per minute.

The next place you took Spencer was an indoor butterfly garden. Does he have to explain why that's a good date? He heard you talk about all the scientific names for the different flowers and why they attract butterflies and he wasn't sure he could crush any harder on you if he tried. A particular moment sticks out to him on which a butterfly landed on your shoulders and just stayed there like it didn't want to leave. Spencer's eyes were fixated on it the whole time - and he had never wanted to be a butterfly in his life before but he figures there's a first time for everything.

The last place, where the both of you were at now was just a small coffee shop, locally owned and supported by the community here. You told Spencer that when you started up your shop, you'd come in here to work on big orders before you'd expanded enough to have employees. Spencer admires your work ethic, much more than he could ever anticipate as he sits down at a small booth, totally covering the both of you as you return to the table with a little plate of banana bread and two iced coffees. Spencer pouts as he looks up at you, watching you flash him a grin.

"I could've helped you carry this over," Spencer complains gently. You roll your eyes.

"Maybe next time doc," you say softly. You hold back your commentary often on the date, and Spencer pretends not to notice for your sake but he'd be lying if he said he didn't wanna know. You always had something sly to say but you'd kept it from him so many times now he figures it's better if he didn't ask.

Spencer looks at you as you push a plate of banana bread towards him. He looks at you with curious eyes before reading your clearly excited face and laughs. He picks up a piece and examines it, before taking a bite. If it tasted as good as it smelled then he would be more than obliged.

The involuntary moan that escapes Spencer's throat makes you choke with laughter. Shit, you weren't kidding when you said this was the best banana bread in the city. Spencer just looks up at you like he's about to cry with joy as you double over in giggles.

"I know," You say softly, taking a bite yourself eyes filling with joy "I ordered some more for us to take home - you're welcome," you say with confidence. Spencer smiles because that is genuinely thoughtful, but it was more endearing to see you pretend it wasn't. He just shakes his head, a blush arising to his face as he looks at you. You're staring at him with intent. He quirks his brow at you in question.

"I had a good time today, Spencer" You say warmly. You only called him Spencer when you were saying something affectionate and a bit serious. He gives you a toothy smile.

"I haven't been on very many dates, but this was easily the best one I'd ever been on," Spencer says honestly. You grin ear to ear, hands carefully holding Spencer across the table, running your thumb over his knuckles for a few seconds. You couldn't say for sure whether it was too soon to ask him to be your boyfriend, but you'd be damned if you said it didn't cross your mind.

Spencer was mind-numbingly unaware of what good boyfriend material he was, but beyond that - what good submissive boyfriend material he was. It was driving you nuts, but you knew this was all new for him and you didn't wanna freak him out. Even when guys say they're interested in being submissive, they're still often times uncomfortable with you being fully dominant. Dominant in public and in bed, if you will. You wanted to pay for dates, and buy him flowers, and make him feel special too - at least on the occasion. That role came naturally to you, that let me make you feel owned type affection that only a dominant person can give. It scared men off - out of relationships, and you totally got why - but you liked Spencer too much as a person to risk iit.

Spencer holds your hands together, gathering your attention. You looked at him spaced out and he gives you a look of concern.

"You okay?," Spencer asks. You nod, chewing your lip in debate of whether or not you should express your concerns. Spencer just tugs on your hand and looks at you intently.

You sigh, looking at Spencer softly.

"I'm okay I just really like you," you say a little exasperated. Spencer laughs but is filled with relief.

"I'm glad to hear that. What else is on your mind?,"

"I really like you - like in an, I want you to officially by my boyfriend way and I hope it's not too soon but I'm just, worried I guess," you say nervously. Spencer can't help the way his heart beats in his chest when he hears you say boyfriend. God did he want to be your boyfriend.

"What're you worried about?,"

"I'm worried about freaking you out. I can be a lot since I'm... you know?," You say nervously. Spencer looks at you  to continue.

"I'm more than just dominant in bed, and for a lot of guys it's not their thing and that's their right but I like you so much. I really don't want that to happen if I ask you out now and you realize that it's not for you," you say in clear upset.

Spencer looks at you in disbelief. You were worried that he was gonna freak out over that? That you were too dominant for him? It feels like such a silly concern but the expression on your face tells him you're speaking from experience.

"I mean, it's all kinda new to me but, well - I do like how you treat me? It's a nice change, I can't imagine myself getting tired of it, or of you. I really like you too," Spencer tried his best to reassure you without totally embarrassing you. You smiles at Spencer but your face is still full of doubt.

"If that ever changes, I'll tell you but I'd really like to call you my girlfriend," Spencer finishes. You can't help the warmth that spreads in your stomach at the offer. You just nod, looking up at him. You stand and walk to Spencer's side of the booth, sliding in next to him, leaning your head into his shoulder for a few while seconds. You sit back up, and Spencer turns to you.

"Hey, doc," you say softly. Spencer hums in acknowledgement.

"Can I kiss you?," you ask softly. Spencer chews his lip and nods, looking down at your lip. You're wearing lipgloss and it makes them look pretty - you are so pretty to Spencer.

Kisses are their own language, Spencer figures. The way someone kisses you can tell you a lot about who they are - so, when you put your hands on the side of Spencer's face, pulling him closer to you with such care and adoration - Spencer can feel what you were referencing earlier. The word Miss rings out in his mind, the way you pay attention to him with your hands. He feels your lips press against his, slowly gliding your fingers in his hair, thumb brushing agains the side of his cheek. Your other hand rested on his inner thigh and he has to think about anything other than that not to get hard. Spencer didn't get how much he'd been thinking about touching you until you'd do with no hesitation and he lets out a small whine. You pull back and Spencer has to catch his breath.

His lashes blink up at you and you're absolutely beaming.

"You're cute baby,"

Baby? Spencer wants to cover his face when you say it. You kiss him again and he can't help but feel flush.

You were Spencer's girlfriend and then some and he couldn't be more happy.

[syilcawrites]

A prompt (dunno if I should've messaged or sent a note, but eh, I'm used to asks):

Following the defeat™ of Ganon à la Link and Zelda, our favourite pair have settled in Kakariko Village for a bit as a temporary reprieve.

Then disaster strikes.

It starts with spaced-out sniffles. Then as hushed whispers come on the light snorts of a nostril attempting to impede the flow of an oncoming river of muscus. Rising to a crescendo, a throat reddens and sputters in an attempt to relieve an unending roughness that hinders speech and catches on food.

Link has the common cold.

Never has the hero felt so demeaned, so disrespected by the gods. His bones and blood and mind were forfeit the moment he drew the Sword as a child, of that he came to know and accept. But to now be impeded by snot and sebum - no affront could be greater.

So, stubborn as he is, he attempts to go on about his day, training, cooking, collecting - but, of course, fails spectacularly, his condition worsening. Looking from afar, Zelda finds that she's had enough and tends to the matter directly.

Ensue whatever great stuff you wanna write about.

TL;DR: Link gets mildly ill, worsens it by overexerting himself and Zelda has to force him to rest; magic ensues.

Sorry if that was way too detailed or exact for a prompt... I just have so many ideas of my own that I want to write but I just don't have the time right now. Sho, I'm keeping to plans aplently. ☺️

a/n: i loved this prompt and how detailed it was thank u for sending me this it was so fun to write sfauihhaifs sobs... I hope to see your writing someday!!! And hope you enjoy this lil fic (’:

ao3

to chase away a cold

It's been a little over two months since Calamity Ganon had been defeated. Paya had been kind enough to let them stay in her room for the time being, while Zelda recuperated from… well, everything. And it had been quiet around Hyrule since—the significantly decreasing amount of monster attacks had been a blessing for their short trips; they had run into little to no problems, fortunately, ever since they reunited.

But then, it started with a sound that Zelda could only affiliate with to a mouse squeak.

Her wide eyes flit to the ground, where Link was sitting atop of a futon that Paya had laid out for him. He didn't look at her as he continued shining away at his weapons, his back still facing her, pressed against the mattress of the bed Zelda was on.

She shrugged it off, resuming to mess around with the Sheikah Slate in her hands. Perhaps she was just hearing things… it wouldn't be surprising, since she hadn't officially settled into being back in her own body yet—

Zelda's ears perked up as the peculiar squeak happened again. But this time, the bed shook a little. She quickly lowered the Sheikah Slate from her view once more, her eyes narrowing.

"Link, was that you?" she asked, poking his back with her big toe.

He shook his head and shrugged.

Suspicious.

——————————————————————

The next morning, Zelda awoke at noon.

Which was, of course, normal for her. She was never an early-riser to begin with, even before the Calamity.

But Link? He was always up the moment the sun rose. She was a light sleeper, and always heard him get up, despite his best efforts to be quiet. And he never missed a day to leave a couple of fresh wildflowers in the vase next to the bed for her before she would get up to start the day.

But today, the wildflowers at the bedside had been the ones from yesterday—beginning to grow flaky and brown.

And Link was still sprawled on the futon next to the bed, obliviously sleeping away.

"Link," Zelda whispered, leaning over the bed. But he didn't budge. Weird. "Link!" Zelda leaned over a bit further to shake his shoulder. "Get up!"

"Hah?" He flinched, startling himself awake. He sniffled as he looked over at her with glazed, sleepy eyes.

"It's past noon. I thought you were going to help Cado—"

"Noon?" he gasped, scrambling up from the futon. "I told him I'd come by at eight," Link mumbled, fumbling for his tunic and trousers. "We might have to go to the Great Fairy Fountain tomorrow instead, I promised I'd help him find his cuccos today." His voice sounded a bit heavier than she remembered.

She waved her hand at him, shrugging as she stifled a yawn. "It's okay, go help him. I'm sure he's waiting." Zelda quirked an eyebrow up as he sniffled again—he was doing that a lot more recently. "If you need a hand, I can help."

"No, you're still recov—" Suddenly, Link's face contorted up in a way that she had never seen before—he whipped around and sneezed into the crook of his elbow.

"Did you catch something?" Zelda asked, shifting off of the bed to place a hand on his forehead. But with each step she took closer to him, he took one away from her as he shook his head fervently.

"I'm fine," he insisted, pulling his cloak over his shoulders, still facing away from her.

Suspicious.

——————————————————————

Zelda sat outside on the steps of Impa's home, eating pickled plum with her as the both of them watched Link run around Kakariko, trying to find Cado's precious, missing cucco's.

"It is beyond my understanding as to why Link even tries," Impa scoffed, handing Zelda the plumpest pickled plum of the batch. She still didn't have much of an appetite, but Impa had been as observant as she always was, and usually only offered Zelda bite-sized foods that she knew she wouldn't have trouble eating. "Cado loses his cuccos as least twice a month."

"Maybe we should build him a bigger fence," Zelda murmured, giggling as she watched Link wrestle with a cucco he was trying to drag over to Cado's little coop. "They wouldn't be able to fly as easily."

"Those little buggers will always find a way," Impa scoffed, shaking her head. "And—"

A loud sneeze caused the both of them to flinch—Link's well-fought battle against the cucco ultimately failed, and Zelda watched the aftermath of it with pity. He stared in defeat as it scampered away, back into the bushes.

"Link's been a little weird, hasn't he? He hadn't even stirred by the time I was awake," Zelda inquired, plopping another pickled plum into her mouth, chewing slowly. His jog was a little slower than usual, and he had to pause every five minutes to catch his breath—that never happened before.

"He's been staying up a little later than usual, hasn't he?"

Zelda nodded—he wanted to take her to several locations that were a bit further than their usual trips, so they had been mapping out the most efficient way to go about their mini excursion. While Link was an early bird, Zelda was more of a night owl… it did make sense that he would be a little off recently, with a shift in his sleeping schedule.

After he spoke to Cado, probably to apologize for not getting them all today, Link stumbled—he stumbled—a bit on his feet as he made his way to the cookpot, since dinner was just around the corner.

Suspicious.

——————————————————————

By the time Link went into the room to retire for the day, Zelda had already situated herself on the futon. She was lying on her stomach, humming, as she plotted out the last of their destinations for the upcoming trip. She craned her head to the door when she heard it creak open; he looked even worse than earlier.

"How was your bath?" Zelda asked, sitting up.

"Good…" he said, sniffling, a little confused. He pointed at her, quirking an eyebrow up.

"You're sleeping in the bed tonight—and!" Zelda pointed at the cup of tea sitting on the desk next to the bed. "You should drink this up before you go to sleep. The trip can wait until you get better."

"What do you mean? I'm fine," he muttered, rubbing his nose.

"Link, having a cold is a perfectly normal thing to catch—and you just made it worse by trying to hide it. Which you were terrible at doing, by the way." Zelda grabbed the cup and held it out to him, waiting. "Plus, I added some extra ingredients that I think could possibly increase the potency of the medicine—"

"I'm not sick," he said, shaking his head with noticeable effort. "I don't need it, I'm fine. I—I feel better than I've ever had before, actually." He sneezed—and the cough that accompanied it sounded just as painful.

"But I made this specifically for you," Zelda muttered, lowering the cup a bit. Before she could continue to convince him to drink it, he had already grabbed it out of her hand and taken a large gulp out of it.

"You didn't put something weird in this, right?" Link asked, sniffing it. At least he tried to sniff it, but his nose was closed up. She laughed at his scrunched up face as he continued to try to smell it.

"It's a secret," she said, patting the top of the bed. "It's been a long day, you should rest."

He took one more long gulp before handing the cup to her with a satisfied sigh, his smile a little woozy. Zelda quickly grabbed it from him and stared into it—he had drank the whole thing in two gulps. He was supposed to drink it slowly.

He flopped over on top of the bed, burying his head into the pillow.

"This bed is really comfortable," he said, his voice muffled as he rubbed his face into it.

"Hey, you're going to get snot all over my pillow if you do that!" Zelda scoffed, tugging at his sleeve as she twisted around.

"It smells like you," he murmured, looking at her with half-lidded eyes as he strained to keep them open.

"Oh? And how do you know what it smells like if your nose is clogged?" She brought her arms over the bed and folded them together to rest her cheek against them. She had never witnessed him getting sick, even before the Calamity. And to see him acting a little aloof brought warmth into her chest—even though he hadn't recovered every memory, he still treated her with familiarity, which she appreciated. She was afraid of being thrown into a world so familiar, yet different.

But he stayed, even though he didn't have to.

"Hmmm... I can just feel it," Link muttered as he closed his eyes, pressing deeper into her pillow.

"You can feel what my pillow smells like?" Zelda snorted, trying to hold in her laughter. Instead of responding to her, he began snoring.

Zelda would have to remember that including a few sprinkles of nightshade acted as an excellent way for someone to fall asleep quickly.

[nblesbianbenhanscom]

43+45 for kaspbroughzier or streddie

anon! hello! a million years later, and your fic is ready! are you even still here? i hope so ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

*

i had to go with the kasproughzier cause i love those goofs and also sonia is the perfect no, really you don’t want to meet my family.

the prompts were ‘trust me, you don’t want to meet my family’ + ‘you may technically be an adult, but you are still my child.’

***

read it on ao3

Little Dashes of Doom

“Eh-Eddie, your phone is r-ringing,” Bill says. It’s the tenth time in the last half hour.

“Just turn it off, Bill. I’m not going to answer it.” Eddie doesn’t look up from his computer.

“Buh-But it’s your ma.”

“I know, Bill. I already told her when I was coming home. She can chill.” He sounds tired, and Bill just wants to wrap him up in a blanket and make him relax between him and Richie. This semester had really kicked all of their asses.

Bill watches the phone as it stops ringing. It dings a moment later with a voicemail. Bill picks it up and turns it off. He kisses Eddie’s hair as he sits it on the table next to him.

“H-How’s the puh-aper coming?” Bill asks as he opens up the fridge. Bill himself had just finished his own last final just a few hours before.

“I hate fucking Shakespeare,” Eddie growls.

“Th-That good, eh?”

Eddie doesn't respond while Bill looks through the fridge. He finds a beer and heads to the couch where Richie is playing on their shared Switch. His legs are spread awkwardly, one up and over the back of the couch, the other hanging down by the floor. Bill sits in between his legs, pulling Richie’s leg into his lap.

“Hey, babycakes, you ok?” Richie asks without looking up.

“I’m ok.” Bill takes a sip of his beer. “You ok?”

“Yeah, fine. Why wouldn’t I be? Shit! I just fucking died!” He sighs and lets the Switch fall to his chest. “What are we doing for food?”

“We have l-leftover p-pizza,” Bill says.

Groaning, Richie sits up and tugs himself closer to Bill with his legs. He leans close and kisses Bill’s neck.

“I am so tired of pizza.” Richie scrapes his teeth against Bill’s chin. “Maybe I’ll just have you for dinner. How does that sound?” They giggle and Eddie huffs from the kitchen.

“Ugh, rude of you to start without me,” Eddie grouses, but there’s no real heat to his words.

Bill and Richie giggle again.

“S-Sorry, E-Eddie!”

“We were just discussing dinner.” Richie kisses Bill’s neck again.

Giggling, Bill pushes him away. “Shhh… St-Stop.”

Richie just pulls him closer and they giggle again.

“If I fail my final, it will be all your faults!” Eddie yells.

“Wh-What d-do you want for d-dinner?” Bill asks.

Eddie is silent for a minute. “Surprise me.”

Bill turns and kisses Richie. “We’re guh–nna go p-pick up dinner.”

“We are?” Richie asks. Bill nods. He holds his hand out and Richie takes it. They go to the door, tug on their coats and boots. It’s cold outside, but Bill just holds tightly to Richie’s hand.

“Where to, Big B?” Richie asks after they’ve climbed in the car.

Bill shrugs. “I don’t care.” He thinks for a minute. “Wh-Where do you—”

“I already told you what I wanted.” Richie winks.

Leaning back against the passenger seat headrest, Bill smiles at him. “Ok, b-but like a-actual food, Richie.”

“Ugh, you’re no fun,” Richie says. They talk for a few more minutes and end up going to the local diner. They get pancakes, fries, salad, and pie. Sometimes Eddie has trouble eating when he’s stressed, and they want to make sure to get him something he’ll eat.

When they get back, Eddie’s computer and his books are in a neat stack. The bathroom door is closed and they can hear him screaming at someone.

“I am working on my finals, mommy!” Eddie screams. Richie and Bill hesitate in the doorway. They look at each other but creep in. It’s been a while since Eddie had gone off like this. When they’d first met him a few years back, he’d yelled a lot more. Richie liked to tease that he was a feral chihuahua until Eddie’d absolutely lost it and tried to beat Richie up. It hadn’t gone well; Richie was so much taller than him and he had just pulled him into a hug, apologies sliding off his tongue. He promised to never do it again. After that, there were less and less explosions until there were none.

“No! No! You listen! I’m doing my work. I’ll be home in three days. Three! You have my–” Eddie pauses. “Please, would you just–”

Richie puts the food on the table and Bill clears away Eddie’s school work.

“God damnit, mom! They are not my roommates, they are my boyfriends. We have been over and over–” Another pause. “Well maybe I won’t come home then!” There’s another pause followed by a loud banging sound and then Eddie begins to sob.

Bill and Richie look at each other as they sit there listening to Eddie cry and yell at himself. Bill can’t quite make out everything he’s saying, but he knows it’s not good. He hears things like pussy, and coward, and little bitch. Things that he’d been told his whole life. Things Bill had thought he’d worked through.

Bill had apparently been wrong.

“I’m gonna go get him,” Richie says, and gets up. Bill catches his hand, and shakes his head. They sigh.

“Wuh–ne m-more m-minute.” He swallows hard. Richie sits back down slowly. Bill hates this just as much as Richie, but he doesn’t want to push Eddie too hard.

Slowly, Eddie’s sobs lessen. Bill wants to get up and go to him, but still he hesitates. Richie leans into his space and rests his head on Bill’s shoulder.

“Can we go get him now?” Richie asks.

Bill licks his lips. He’s about to say yes when they hear the bathroom door open, and Eddie sees them as soon as he looks up.

“Oh,” he says softly. His eyes are red and puffy. He swallows hard several times. “I-I–” And then tears fill his eyes, and his face crumbles, and Richie and Bill go to him, pull him close and let him cling to them as he cries.

“It’s ok, Eddie, we’ve got you,” Richie murmurs into his hair. “We’ve got you.”

“L-Let it out, b-baby,” Bill whispers.

Eddie’s fingers dig into Bill’s shirt as he sobs. His whole body is shaking and Bill wishes he could find Sonia Kaspbrak and give her a piece of his mind, but he tries to push these thoughts away as he kisses Eddie’s hair.

They sit on the couch, and it takes a long time for Eddie to calm down. Even after he’s stopped crying, he still clings to them. He whines when Richie pulls away.

“I’ll be back, my love, just going to get you some water,” Richie says as Eddie grips his shirt hem.

“But I–” Eddie’s hoarse, and Bill can’t help but feel sorry for him.

“I-It w-will help,” Bill says. He reaches out and pulls Eddie’s hand free. “It will help.” Slowly, Eddie lets go and lets Bill lace their fingers together. He leans back into Bill and closes his eyes.

After Eddie drinks his water, he looks around at them with heavy sad eyes. He’s cradled between them, both of them pushing into his space.

“I’m–I’m sorry,” Eddie says.

“What for, love?” Richie asks. He strokes Eddie’s hair, kisses his temple.

“Because I–Because I’m such a freaking mess,” Eddie whispers.

“Yo-You’re n-not a m-mess.” Bill kisses Eddie behind his ear and Eddie’s eyelashes flutter a little.

“Your mom is a fucking cunt,” Richie says.

Bill frowns at him. Eddie usually freaks whenever someone says something bad about his mom.

“Yeah, she is,” Eddie says. 

Bill and Richie make shocked noises. Bill squeezes him.

“I’m just so tired of her. She’s...” His voice waivers and takes a deep breath. “I have to use the bathroom.” Eddie gives them each a kiss before he gets up.

Once the door is closed, Richie looks at Bill, scowling.

“What the fuck is that bitch’s problem?” Richie growls.

“I d-don’t kn-know.” Bill sighs. He scoots closer to Richie. “I h-hate her so much. It’s been s-such a l-long t-time si-since–”

“Yeah, he’s been doing so good.” Richie huffs. “I just wish I could meet that bitch just one time so I could–”

“Trust me, you don’t want to meet my mom,” Eddie says. Richie and Bill jump, neither of them had heard the toilet flush. “C’mon. I’m hungry.”

Sharing glances, Richie and Bill get up and follow Eddie into the kitchen. He’s sitting at the table, pulling the food out of the bag and frowns at the fries.

“Aww, fuck, they’re cold.” Eddie’s lip trembles a little. “I’m sorry. I should have waited to call. I just finished my final and I–”

“N-No, b-baby. It’s ok. Th-The fries w–ill heat up,” Bill says.

“Yeah,” Richie agrees. “That’s why God invented microwaves, right?” He picks up the container and throws it in, pushing buttons quickly. “See? It’s fine.”

Sniffling, Eddie wrinkles his nose. “Nuked fries taste so gross.”

“I think we got some cheese and Ranch. That will help.” Richie goes to the fridge as Eddie looks at the rest of the food and looks up at Bill.

“You two are the best, do you know that?” Eddie asks. Richie kisses his hair as he wraps his arms around Eddie’s shoulders.

“N-No you,” Bill says.

Wrapping his fingers around Richie’s forearms, Eddie kisses his inner arm. “I love you both so much.”

“We love you, too.” Richie pulls away as the microwave beeps.

After they eat, they curl up on the couch to watch TV. They’re all crossed limbs and elbows in stomachs and pulled hair, but they don’t really care. Eddie just lets the others hold him close, pet his hair, kiss him.

“Are you doing better?” Richie asks after a bit. Eddie shrugs.

“Wh-What happened?” Bill asks.

Eddie shrugs again. “Just the usual. I finished my paper like right after you left, so I decided to call her before she called the police like she did that one time, and she said since I was done with my finals that I needed to come home right away. When I said I want to stay with you two, that my ticket is nonrefundable or exchangeable, she said she didn’t care about the cost, that she’d pay and…” He sighs. “She just wouldn’t listen. She kept saying, ‘You may be an adult, but you’re still my child.’” He huffs. “I’ve been financially independent from that old bag for over a year. She has no right to say shit like that to me any more.”

“N-No, she doesn’t,” Bill agrees.

“Honestly, she never should have talked to you that way, ever,” Richie says. Eddie leans a little closer to him. He plays with the strings on Bill’s hoodie.

“I know,” Eddie whispers.

Bill can hardly believe what he’s hearing. His heart fills with pride and he pulls Eddie’s legs into his lap and cups Eddie’s face in his hands before kissing him so, so gently. When they pull apart, Bill pushes his forehead into Eddie’s forehead. 

“L-Love you,” Bill whispers. When he pulls back, Richie presses his own kiss into Eddie’s temple.

“You know, you don’t have to go,” Richie says. “You can come home with us.”

“O-Or we c-could go wi-with you,” Bill says.

Eddie shakes his head. “It will be ok.”

Sighing, Richie shakes his head, no. “You shouldn’t have to deal with her alone. Let us come with you.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Eddie murmurs.

“Y-You d–idn’t. We’re t-telling you. We’re coming wi–th you,” Bill says. Richie smiles at Bill.

“You really don’t–”

“Eds, you may as well give it up. We’re coming with you, and if your mom can’t deal, well, fuck her, and we’ll leave early.” Richie pauses. “In fact, plan on it. We’ll all have to change our tickets, call our families, but we’ll split up the break evenly. It will be fun.”

“We can’t afford that!” Eddie protests.

“Y-Yes we c-can! I just got p-paid for th–at piece I wrote a why-while back,” Bill says.

“No, Bill, you were going to use that for a new computer!” Eddie says.

“I’ll j-just st-steal yours.” Bill strokes his arm.

“You’re ridiculous,” Eddie murmurs, but there’s a small smile on my face. He sighs and leans into Richie. “You guys are the best, do you know that?”

“N-No, you.” Bill laces their fingers together.

“Yeah, spaghetti, you’re the best.” Richie kisses his hair.

Eddie closes his eyes, and settles back.

“We d-don’t have to m-make any d-decisions tonight,” Bill says. “W-We can t-talk t-tomorrow.”

“Ok,” Eddie says. He sighs again and sits up. “You guys wanna do something?”

“Like what?” Richie asks.

“Play Mario Kart?”

“Only if you don't cry when I kick your butt!" Richie says as he pulls himself free and gets up to set up the Switch. Eddie scoots around and leans into Bill's side.

"Yeah, we'll see who cries, Tozier!" Eddie teases.

Bill knows it is a toss-up between the two; they are both really good. It's Bill that's going to be the loser, but he doesn't really care. He's terrible at video games, but he loves being with his boyfriends. 

He sits there listening to them argue about who is the worst player and waits to be handed a controller. He loves listening to them bicker like this, and he knows Eddie bickering is a good sign. Licking his lips, Bill leans into Eddie, eyes closed for a moment. 

"You ok, Bill?" Eddie asks as Richie's attention falters. He's fighting with the cords and cursing under his breath.

"Yeah, I'm good." Bill takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Love you so much."

Eddie squeezes his hand. "Love you."

"Got it!" Richie says triumphantly. He tosses a couple of controllers at them and sits near the TV. "You two losers ready?"

"Shut up, buttmunch," Eddie says. "Get ready to eat my dust!"

"Bring it!" Richie says. 

Bill struggles with his controller and gets settled. He knows the next couple of weeks are going to be hard. Eddie had agreed tonight that they would change their winter break plans, but that doesn't mean that it isn't going to be a struggle. He knows Eddie wants to break free, but Bill knows it isn’t easy; Sonia has a firm grip on her son.

Bill is not looking forward to the back and forth that is inevitably coming, but he decides there is no point in worrying about that now. Right now, Eddie is happy, Eddie is safe, and the three of them are going to have a good night. Tomorrow is future Bill’s problem, and tonight all he has to worry about is not driving the wrong way on the track. He knows everything will be ok.

[visionsofus]

Hey, my city has just been put into lockdown :( so I thought I might send a prompt... maybe something about some of the times Vision phases through Wandas wall? Idk but I hope you're well and I love your writing :)

hello! I am so sorry to hear that your city has been put into lockdown! I hope you are staying safe and looking after yourself. I bumped this to the top of my list so I could get you something nice to read quickly. It's mainly about Vision comforting Wanda but I hope it brings you some comfort too!

Mixtape track # 28: Time After Time cover by Theresa Sokyrka, Jesse Brown

| read on AO3 here | mixtape playlist | send me an ask with your song/prompt request |

lying in my bed, I hear the clock tick and think of you

synopsis: Three times Vision phased into Wanda's room unannounced and found her in varying states of disarray/ injury. Aka a fluffy comfort fic for those of you who need it.

Warnings: mentions of blood and stitches, illness (flu), mild swearing

Vision was sitting at the kitchen counter, a novel before him when Steve hurried into the kitchen and began rooting through cabinets. Vision placed a finger to mark his page and glanced up in confusion.

“Is there something you need help with, Captain?” He asked, curious at Steve’s haste. The captain jumped visibly, and Vision looked down sheepishly. The team was yet to grow accustomed to his presence in the Compound and he was still learning to be something like human. It was a slow process.

“Vision,” Steve said, a hand pressed to his chest in surprise. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

Vision nodded. “What are you looking for?”

“Cold and flu medicine,” Steve replied, turning back to the cabinets and pushing aside two different bags of coffee beans and a pot of sugar. His hand scraped around the back of the shelf to no avail. “I know we had some here somewhere.”

Vision tilted his head curiously. There weren’t many at the compound who could fall ill, Steve and himself included. Tony was away with Rhodey in New York for the weekend, Clint was with his family, and from what Vision knew of Natasha, she didn’t seem the kind of person to accept medicine.

That only left one other person in the enormous building he now called home.

“Is Wanda okay?” Vision asked his voice sound slightly strained, even to his own ears. He hadn’t quite mastered control over tone yet but was getting better at identifying such markers in other’s speech.

“She’s okay,” Steve mulled as he moved things around, moving to another cupboard. Vision heard the concern in his voice. Forgetting his page, he shut his book all thoughts now directed to Wanda. Where could she have contracted an illness? Perhaps it was overworking, of all of them, Wanda pushed herself the hardest. The last few weeks had been particularly rough with training every day, minor missions interstate, and relentless press appearances.

“Aha!” Steve cried in triumph, holding up a packet of cold and flu tablets.

“I can take them to her,” Vision said jumping to his feet and moving swiftly to Steve’s side, a glass in his hand ready to fill with water for Wanda. Steve jerked back a little, evidently, he was still not adjusted to the synthezoid’s super speed.

“Okay,” Steve sounded hesitant as he passed over the thin package. “Don’t smother her, alright? She’s not in a very good mood.”

“I won’t,” Vision said pleased as he filled up the glass with water and headed off down the corridor. As he walked, he quickly had a look at what ‘smothering’ meant – why Steve thought he might cover Wanda’s head with a pillow, Vision couldn’t understand. A little more looking revealed it could also mean overwhelm. Vision shook his head, he would make every effort to not overwhelm her, he just wanted to make sure she was comfortable and provide anything that might make her feel better.

Out of Steve’s sight, he hurried quickly down the corridor that led to Wanda’s bedroom. Once he was close enough to her bedroom he phased effortlessly through the wall, bringing the water and pills with him.

He arrived in her room to find that the lights were out and the curtains drawn despite it being mid-morning.

“Vision?” Wanda exclaimed, or tried to. Her voice cracked and she coughed most of the way through his name.

He hurried to the other side of her bed, concerned to see her covers pulled up to her chin even as sweat made her forehead shine.

“What did I saw about knocking?” Wanda said, her voice hoarse, her eyes struggling to stay open.

“That I should?” Vision said hesitantly.

Wanda murmured something in affirmation, and he felt guilty.

“Sorry, I will next time. I brought you some medicine.” He set the glass of water on her bedside table which was cluttered with tissues, empty glasses and unfinished books.

“Don’t need it, thanks,” Wanda murmured, turning onto her side.

Vision sighed. She looked dreadful, which was saying something as he rarely found her anything but beautiful. Concerned, he slowly reached out to press his hand to her forehead. Wanda shivered, feverish.

“You have a high temperature; the medicine will make you feel better.”

Wanda opened her eyes blearily and huffed in frustration. She heaved herself up to lean against the headboard and held a hand out for the pills. Vision popped two of the night pills into her palm before extending the water glass. She swallowed the medicine and shivered again.

“When did you start feeling bad?” Vision asked, trying to make conversation as he hovered about her room, not yet ready to leave her in such a state.

“Last night, but woke up feeling like the plague this morning,” Wanda mumbled, slipping back down onto the pillow. He moved forward to pull her pillow up so she was more comfortable.

“Okay, well we’ll keep an eye on your fever,” he said nervously more to himself, feeling the need to speak the instructions he had read about online aloud. But Wanda’s eyes were already closed, and it seemed she was relenting to an exhausted slumber.

Vision bit his lip, unsure if he were allowed to stay in her room while she was asleep. Glancing at her bedside table he decided to at least clean up on his way out. With the empty glasses stacked and the tissues in the bin he set about opening up a window a little bit to allow for some circulation. Even if Wanda felt cold, her fever needed to come down. Finally, unable to see a reason to stay Vision went over to adjust her blankets. Seeing that she was peacefully asleep he pressed his palm to her forehead, glad to feel that she felt a little bit less warm. She murmured something sleepily but didn’t wake.

Vision returned to her wall with the glasses in hand and phased through it once more, leaving Wanda to her fever dreams. For the remainder of the day, he kept a keen eye on Wanda, phasing through her wall each hour to take her temperature and replace her water glass. She remained asleep or at least didn’t acknowledge his care, though each time he left her mouth twitched up at the corners.

“Wanda!” Vision’s voice was a singsong as he phased through her bedroom wall, eager for their promised game of chess. He had taken up teaching her the game not long after he had learnt it himself. There was no one at the compound who could play that well but he always had fun with Wanda. Even when Vision knew all the tricks, she still surprised him. In exchange they had been following up each game with a few episodes of the Dick Van Dyke show. It was their Saturday night ritual now, though they had only known each other 6 months. Wanda had only just returned from the mission she had been on with Steve and Nat. Perhaps chess was off the table, but he hoped she would let him keep her company and watch some television. Vision struggled to understand how keenly he had felt her absence in the past week.

He phased through the wall and for a moment his sight was clouded. He emerged into the bedroom that he had slowly been acquainted with. Vision knew the view from her windows, the books on her desk, her guitar in the corner and the pattern of her bedsheets. His eyes checked off each of these features before looking to the bed. His heart dropped sickeningly when he caught sight of the figure laying atop the covers.

Wanda had propped herself against the headboard, her mouth twisted in pain as she nursed a gash that was bleeding all down her left arm.

“Wanda?” Vision whispered. Her eyes opened weakly, and she grimaced a smile.

“Hi.”

Vision was at her side instantly. “Hi? What do you mean hi? Are you okay what happened—”

“Shhh,” Wanda whispered, reaching out to grab his arm and squeeze. “Don’t want the others to know.”

“What do you mean?” Vision asked furiously. “You’re hurt, why didn’t you go the med bay when you got back?”

“Please,” she turned her eyes on him and he registered the pain behind her gaze. “Help me and I’ll answer any questions you want. I tried,” she gestured to the trail of thread she’d been using to stitch herself up with, “but my hands are too shaky.”

He ignored that she was half undressed, more focused on how her blood had soaked through the left side of her top and was dripping onto her bed. Vision spared less than a second before he was speeding away from her side. He trusted Wanda, if she said that she didn’t want the others knowing then he would wait to hear her reasoning. For now, he just wanted to alleviate her pain.

He thanked the gods for his super speed as he dashed down the corridor, down the stairs through two walls and into the empty med bay. He dipped in and out of the internet finding a reputable source for stitching up a wound even as he lectured himself for not understanding such an important procedure sooner. He grabbed more supplies, gauze and bandages, antiseptic and a fresh needle and tweezers. He sped back upstairs and arrived in Wanda’s room just as she was swiping tears away from her eyes.

“Sorry,” she winced, trying to sit up better as he set his supplies on her bedside table.

“You have nothing to apologise for,” Vision said soothingly. “Let’s get you fixed up.”

“You weren’t supposed to see,” Wanda sighed, her eyes closed as he set about propping her arm up with a pillow and a fresh towel to mop up the blood.

“Lucky I entered without announcing myself then,” Vision murmured perching himself next to her tense body. He wasn’t usually squeamish and managed to maintain a distance when it came to gore. But seeing Wanda’s blood trickling down her arm had his heart thumping far too quickly. He took a few calming breaths.

Vision straightened her arm and watched her forehead contort in pain, sweat beading. Silently he took the medical scissors and cut off the thread and the mess Wanda had made of her wound. On closer inspection he was relieved to see it wasn’t too deep and that the blood had stopped flowing. He cleaned and numbed the area.

“It’s not as bad as I thought,” Vision murmured as he helped her sit up taller, so she was at a better angle for the stitches.

“Feels bad enough,” Wanda winced.

He frowned at her pain. “Tell me about your favourite episode of Dick Van Dyke,” Vision prompted as he set about threading the needle. Wisely, Wanda decided to turn her attention to her sweeping windows and the clouds drifting across the amber sky.

“Season 2, episode 20,” Wanda said. “It’s not necessarily my favourite but it’s the episode I’ve seen the most. Rob watches this movie with aliens and monsters, it was scary for me as a kid, but I found it funny how out of control it became—” Wanda broke off with a pained groan as Vision began the first stitch.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Now it doesn’t scare me but it’s still eerie...” she trailed off to prepare for the next stitch. Moments later it was done, and she breathed out slowly as Vision tugged the thread gently, closing the wound.

“— it’s interesting to look back on the episode and –” She thumped her other first on her thigh as the needle dug in once more.

“—and see how far my life has changed since I first watched it – oh fuck that!”

Vision startled, not used to hearing her swear. “Two more and it’ll be done,” Vision replied, conscious that he was leaning over her torso and that there might have been easier ways to sit for stitching up the gash.

“Two more?” Wanda sighed her right shoulder slumping in defeat.

“Almost there, almost there,” he murmured soothingly, starting on the next stitch. Wanda cried out, biting her fist. His heart twinged painfully in sympathy.

“You’re okay,” Vision said, doing his best to be comfortingly. “One more and then it’s done, one more and it’ll be over.”

He continued to murmur small comforts, hoping his voice would distract her from the thin metal dipping in and out of her skin. Despite her pain he had successfully kept the stitches neat and hoped that they’d be suitable enough for healing. At least he had used the thread that dissolved as the wound healed and she could avoid the new pain of having them taken out once more.

As he pushed the needle in for the final stitch Wanda’s head lolled against his neck. He froze in fear.

“I’m okay,” she whispered, “just, keep going.”

Her head remained pressed into the crook of his neck, her breath warming his skin in slow, controlled breaths. Vision did his best to focus on finishing off his work. He completed the final stitch, tied it up and cut the needle free. As he moved his materials to her bedside table and picked up the gauze, he became conscious of Wanda’s shoulders shaking slowly.

“Sorry,” she said quietly, her voice thick with tears.

“It’s alright, Wanda,” Vision said with a comforting smile, though she didn’t raise her head. He raised a hand and gently stroked the back of her head in what he hoped was a soothing manner. “I’ll wrap your arm up and give you something for the pain.”

Wanda sniffled against his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re the only one who can phase through physical walls.”

Vision smiled happily; glad Wanda couldn’t see his reaction.

Vision hovered; his hand raised to knock on Wanda’s bedroom door. He’d been standing there for a few moments debating on whether or not to disturb her when he’d heard the soft noises of Wanda’s cries. Vision knew how she sounded when she was upset. In the year they had been living together there had been a few nights he had spent sitting outside her door, listening to her cry and waiting for her to fall asleep. Often, all she’d allow him to do was bring her food or a cup of tea, insisting she be left to her sorrows. But Vision was struggling to bear it tonight. He worried that she thought herself a burden, that she locked herself up in her room on her bad days as a way to save the rest of the team from her anguish. But Vision hated seeing, or hearing, her pain.

Unable to wait any longer Vision side stepped the door and phased right through the wood. The room was dark, and the air was still, Wanda hadn’t left her bed all day. Quietly, Vision walked slowly to her bedside and crouched beside her curled up form. The covers were pulled up over her head, her arms wrapped around one of her cushions. His throat grew tight with emotion as he gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Wanda?” He whispered. The covers shifted and her head emerged, tear tracks looked as though they had made permanent lines down her face, dark circles hung under her eyes.

She didn’t say anything, just rolled over so that her back was to him.

“Is there anything that you need?” Vision asked removing his hand, hesitant to take her rejection, he’d wait until she explicitly asked him to leave. Wanda didn’t reply, her breath catching in her throat, and she shook her head slowly.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” Vision said quietly.

“I don’t want to bother anyone,” Wanda whispered, her voice hoarse from not speaking. Vision raised to stand, hovering next to her bed. He desperately wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her close, to banish all her sadness and protect her from fear.

“You could never be a burden to me, it is a privilege to be a part of your life.” His words sounded raw, even to his own ears and he heard Wanda hiccup emotionally.

It didn’t take much, just her hand emerging from beneath the covers to tug at the hem of his woollen sweater. It was all he needed to know she wanted him to say.

She shifted to make room and Vision settled onto the bed next to her. Almost reluctantly, Wanda slid closer though her face was still hidden. When he was close enough, he pulled a blanket from the floor and wrapped it around her shoulders. She leant in, sniffling tearily. When he held his arms open, she hesitated for a few moments, her body stiff with tension. Finally, she relented, pressing her forehead into his shoulder and allowing him to wrap her in his warm arms. The tears started again, and he rocked them back and forth as she trembled.

“It’s alright,” Vision whispered over and over. He rubbed a hand in circles on her back, holding her close.

They remained that way for a while, Vision let her cry as much as she needed, not feeling the need to ask what was causing her such anguish. She would tell him when she was ready.

“When you’re feeling up for it, we can go for a walk,” Vision said soothingly, “there are wildflowers out by the woods, I even saw some bluebells the other morning. Maybe you can point out some other flowers you recognise to me. I think the birds miss you out there.” He talked slowly about small things, none of them important but gradually her sobs slowed into hiccups.

“Thank you,” Wanda whispered into his shoulders, her hands tangled up in his jumper.

“It’s okay,” Vision said softly, “just because your brain tells you you’re alone, doesn’t mean it’s true. There are so many people who care about you. Whenever you need me, I’ll always be here.”

[sanktaleksander]

I didn’t know you did Rick/Shane oh my god can I get an 18 please?

I am sorry this took fucking forever (gotta love when the mean ol’ mental illness factory in my head doesn’t want to do one thing correctly and help me get things done). But I adore you and I hope this isn’t too mushy or OOC for your taste😅 I have precisely one Sharick fic on ao3 and I haven’t written for TWD in quite a while but I sure as hell gave it my best shot. I really hope you like it❤️

Side note: if you see this and sent in a prompt that hasn’t been filled, don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten you, I am going to do my best to get yours done❤️

Enjoy❤️

Rick/Shane + 18. Playing with hair

“You look like shit, cowboy.” 

The glare Shane got in return would have made most people shrink back but Shane Walsh was definitely not most people and Shane knew it was pretty half hearted. He also wasn’t one to mince words and Rick did in fact look like shit. Warmed over shit maybe, but still shit. It had been above ninety for at least the fourth day in a row and the King County sheriff’s office was not known for having the most top of the line cruisers. It may have been late but the heat and humidity in this part of the country did not abate all that much after the sun went down. Rick had also just pulled a twelve hour shift in exchange for a bit more vacation time, which they both were stockpiling for their honeymoon after they got married, so Shane supposed his fiance had a good excuse for looking like a husky that wasn’t adjusting well to life in rural Georgia. 

It was approximately midnight and Rick had been gone since noon twelve hours earlier and Shane knew he didn’t have to stay up to wait for Rick to return, they were both used to not always being able to see each other as much as they would have liked, but Shane didn’t mind the odd hours. He was pretty adept at catching cat naps when the need arose. 

He came up to offer Rick some iced tea, kept cold until Rick got home. Normally he would’ve gone out and gotten him some iced coffee but it was late and Shane knew the other man wouldn’t want to be hyped up from the caffeine and unable to get some decent sleep. Rick took off his hat and hung it up on the hook by the door, exhaling deeply as he took the glass from Shane and brought it to his lips, drinking a good bit before giving the glass back so he could get out of his boots and unbuckle his duty belt. He was already beginning to feel a bit better, the cool feeling of the air conditioned apartment and the iced tea settling in his belly helping to at least begin to cool off his tired body. Rick didn’t mind taking the longer shift but every time he did he came home reminded that he wasn’t the youngest anymore, though he didn’t exactly consider himself an old man either. But he had one failed marriage and two kids to his name, so he definitely had some milage behind him. 

It certainly didn’t seem to bother Shane. His fiance had once just been his best friend, someone he’d known practically since they were born. When you grew up in a small town, you pretty much knew everyone around your age in one way or another, usually going to school with each other, but he’d actually spent most of his childhood and teenage years with Shane by his side. They were practically attached at the hip most of the time. If you found one of them, it was a pretty safe bet that you’d find the other sooner or later. It had been an odd sort of relationship honestly, since both of them differed in several ways. But it worked somehow and Rick trusted Shane more than he trusted a good portion of the people he knew.

But, as they got older and graduated high school, things started to change. Even as they both decided to enroll in the police academy, Rick found himself falling in love with a woman from a neighboring town and starting a family, whereas Shane never really got around to the whole family thing, instead choosing to bed whatever woman he chose, keeping them around for as long as he liked before he felt the need for someone new. 

Despite this, they remained close, working together and spending time off together when they could even though his wife had never really liked Shane or even approved of Rick being friends with him. That was the first in a long list of things that his now ex would come to dislike and disagree with. 

By the time he had two children and the nice house that he’d always dreamed of having, his relationship with his wife wasn’t something he could easily deal with anymore. He also could not simply act like there was nothing wrong between them, something he had tried to do in favor of starting some sort of disagreement that inevitably turned into an argument. It didn’t help that he was becoming increasingly aware of a part of himself he’d been denying since he was young, practically since he’d been old enough to understand what it meant to care for someone else beyond friendship. 

The night Lori left, taking both of the kids with her, Rick had felt like his world, which had already been hanging by a thread, had now well and truly fallen apart right before his eyes and no matter what he’d done to try and keep things together, it just hadn’t been enough. 

He couldn’t remember what exactly had brought Shane to his door, if he’d texted him or maybe called him and what he said if he did, but he could recall how Shane had dropped everything to come to his house that felt so empty without his family. 

Shane really didn’t have much experience with this type of heartbreak and he tended to not let feelings interfere with his relationships with the women he dated, but that didn’t stop him from trying to do everything he could for his best friend. He ordered them Rick’s favorite takeout and got them some beer, not the cheap shit they usually drank either, springing for a nicer brand. Rick hadn’t felt like drinking all that much and it was hard to enjoy the food, even though it was indeed his favorite, but he could see that Shane was trying. So he sat with him on the living room couch and did his best to at least take a few sips of beer and some bites of food. Shane did most of the talking, which wasn’t unusual in any circumstance, but it did help Rick focus on something else besides how terrible he felt as Shane told him whatever bullshit story he could think of. It was soon getting late, their food now cold. That was fine with Rick, he had lost what little appetite he had and he didn’t much want any more beer either, though he hadn’t really drunk much. As the tv played some movie he didn’t know, he couldn’t help noticing how close Shane was, the scent of his cologne, the warmth of his thigh where it was pressed against Rick’s own. He was surprised by how much these simple observations made him ache on the inside and not just because he was missing Lori even though he was sure she wasn’t missing him. 

He ignored it as best he could, just like he always did anytime he felt feelings like this rising up inside him. He said something to Shane about it being late, that he was grateful he had come over but he should head home and Rick would try to get some sleep, though he doubted he would do much but toss and turn. It had been quite a long time since he’d slept in a bed alone and he wasn’t looking forward to it. 

Recalling it afterward, Rick didn’t know if it had been the look on his face or if Shane had planned to say something before that moment. But suddenly there was a warm hand on his thigh and Rick found his heart had started to pound. The hand that was on his thigh moved to trail down the side of his neck before carefully getting him to turn his head so their eyes met. His skin was still tingling when Shane kissed him. 

Shane asked him over and over if he wanted to do this, if he was sure that he wanted it for the right reasons because he knew Rick would hate himself afterward for saying yes simply because he was lonely and hurting. But Rick knew it was more than that, that he had wanted this for so long, denying it over and over, even as it became clear that Shane was the one person in his life who had always been there, who never judged him or found things to dislike about him. Shane was his one constant through practically his entire life. He’d been more devoted to Rick than his own wife. He’d been right there the whole time, just like he’d always been, just like he was right then and it had taken Rick this long to finally allow himself to acknowledge what he’d wanted for years. 

So much of that night, Rick would never forget, not as long as he lived. He’d never been with someone where every touch felt so good, so perfect and his lack of experience did not deter Shane in the least. If anything, the other man seemed to like it, got off on the fact that he was Rick’s first experience with another guy, that he was getting the opportunity to teach Rick some of his many tricks. 

Even years later, Rick could still hear Shane’s deep, rumbling voice in his ear, begging to be fucked, telling him he knew how badly Rick wanted this, could see it so clearly on his face. Rick hadn’t ever expected Shane to ask for that, to trust him enough to do that, but it ended up being better than anything he could’ve imagined. Seeing the look of utter bliss on Shane’s face when he came, hearing him moan like that and call Rick’s name was definitely something he thought about for weeks after and still did on occasion even now. 

When he woke up the next morning with his head tucked under Shane’s chin, the other man sleeping soundly, his arms wrapped almost protectively around Rick as they lay cocooned under the blankets, Rick knew that this was how things were supposed to be, how they should’ve been all along. He’d spent years with his wife and not once had he felt this good after they’d slept together, so relaxed and simply happy. And she had never looked so pleased to see him when she woke up, not the way Shane had. Those brown eyes lit up as soon as he’d woken enough to remember what they’d done and realize Rick was still in the same place he had been when they’d fallen asleep. They spent the morning sharing quiet kisses, though considering who he was in bed with, Rick wasn’t surprised when the kisses soon became a lot more. 

They’d spent a lot of mornings like that since then and a lot of nights like that too. Shane was definitely somebody who, no matter how old he got, was always interested in anything to do with sex. He also looked ten years younger than he actually was though, so Rick supposed it made some sort of sense. After they’d gotten together that first time, Rick had wondered on more than one occasion if Shane would get tired of him eventually, just like he had with basically every woman Rick had ever known him to be with. They would be around for so long and then Shane would grow bored and break up with her, ending up with another girl sooner or later. They were still here though and Shane hadn’t strayed, always coming home to Rick every day and more than happy about it. 

Rick hadn’t known that Shane often slept with guys back then, though he made sure each was more a one night stand sort of thing or sometimes friends with benefits. He’d never been able to allow himself to been seen in their small town with another man on his arm, no matter if he’d found a guy he actually was into for more than just sex. He’d also hoped Rick would want him one day, though it had seemed less and less likely. He’d felt like that night Lori left had been his last chance at showing Rick he wanted him, that he could be what the other man needed and he wasn’t about to throw that away. Maybe that was why Shane never got tired, why someone who had been known for his promiscuous ways for so long was genuinely happy about getting married. He got to have the man he’d always wanted every day and of course he wanted that for the rest of his life. Marrying Rick just made sense. 

Rick was pulled from his thoughts by Shane coming back up to him, slipping his strong arms around Rick’s waist and bringing him close, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Did you miss me, sweetheart? Or did you miss the air conditioning more?” He teased, a small smile playing on his lips. 

Rick chuckled softly, “I’m definitely happy to be home, but not just because of the A/C.” He relaxed just a bit more when Shane leaned to kiss him, allowing him to shed a bit more of the day’s troubles and just focus on the fact that he was home and Shane was home with him and he didn’t have to think too hard about much else for a while. 

“How about you go and take a shower? Maybe we can have a little midnight snack after, yeah?” The younger man asked when they parted, Shane’s hand combing up to smooth Rick’s curls back. 

“That sounds nice, but I think I’d be happier if you joined me.” Rick offered, pressing another kiss to Shane’s mouth. 

Shane openly grinned at that. “Yeah? Are we thinking about a little more than just getting clean, sheriff?” 

Rick chuckled, “Maybe. Why don’t we find out?”

Shane more than happily pulled Rick through the house and into the bathroom off their bedroom. They traded kisses as clothes came off and the water was turned on so it could heat up. Shane made sure it was warm but not too warm, knowing Rick was probably still a little overheated from his long shift. 

Rick exhaled deeply once they were finally under the warm spray, grateful when the water began to help loosen some of the knots and tension he was carrying in his tired muscles. He practically melted when Shane pressed up against his back, sliding his arms around his waist. The other man’s lips kissed over his shoulder and along his neck. Rick hummed softly when Shane nipped at his ear, “Does this mean you missed me too then, huh?” 

“I always miss you, sweetheart. There’s nothing better than getting to be around you, to feel your body against mine, to feel you inside me…” Shane chuckled, kissing the back of Rick’s neck. “And as much as you play the well mannered, straight laced southern boy around everyone else, you and I both know that you’re just as dirty as I am.” He was not subtle as he ground his hips into Rick’s ass, letting his partner know exactly what was on his mind if his words hadn’t been enough of an indication. 

As tired as Rick was, he was still very much interested in what Shane was offering. Just hearing the other man talk like that and feeling his growing erection grinding against his ass had Rick’s own body becoming excited. He may have had a long and rather exhausting day, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t find the energy to take care of his fiance. It wasn’t as though he didn’t want to either, not when Shane was involved. He was always in the mood when it came to Shane. 

Rick quickly turned, catching Shane’s mouth with his own. He couldn’t help noting the pleased expression on Shane’s face when he was manhandled into place. The other man exhaled softly when Rick slipped his arms around him, soon followed by a deep moan as Rick pressed inside him. 

There was nothing better than hearing Shane like this, hearing how much he enjoyed every time they were together. He was definitely the more vocal of the two of them, not at all afraid of letting Rick know he was feeling good and that his lover knew how to turn him on and get him off. Not that Shane himself didn’t deserve some of the credit, he always knew how to get Rick in the mood and make sure they both enjoyed themselves. Soon Rick had switched their positions so he could kiss Shane properly while they fucked, holding him as close as possible as they rested against the wall, not wanting an inch of space between them. It wasn’t long before Shane fell apart, nails digging into Rick’s back as he begged his partner to cum inside him. Rick was more than happy to give Shane what he wanted, kissing him hard as he rode out his orgasm. 

Rick’s brain was pleasantly quiet and fuzzy afterward and he leaned into Shane as they cleaned up, letting his fingertips trace over the tattoo on the other man’s chest until they were running out of hot water and reasons to stay in the shower. Shane had been nice enough to pull out some clothes for the both of them to change into once they were out and dry. The softness of his favorite pair of sweats and one of Shane’s old shirts that still smelled like him made Rick feel cozy, especially when Shane tugged him into their bedroom and invited him onto the bed.

The lights were dimmed down to a soft glow and Rick soon found himself laid out against the pillows, Shane pressed to his side, the other man’s head resting on his chest. Rick reached up to let his fingers card through Shane’s hair. He’d let it grow out recently and it was beginning to curl. Rick let his eyes close, getting lost in the feeling of Shane’s curls slipping through his fingers and the comforting weight of the other man’s body resting against his own. He’d spent so much of his life trying his best to make everyone around him happy, trying to be what everyone else expected when this is all he really wanted, quiet moments like this with someone he knew really loved him. He still felt a little guilty that he hadn’t realized Shane’s feelings sooner, that he’d spent so much time denying himself when he could’ve been happy with the person he should’ve been with all along. But he was grateful for what he had now, that things were finally falling into place and he had found some modicum of peace within himself. 

Shane shifted, worming his way in closer, tucking his head under Rick’s chin. He hummed softly, tipping his head up to kiss Rick’s jaw. “You know I can’t wait to marry you, sweetheart? I can’t wait for you to make a proper woman outta me.” He chuckled, leaning into Rick’s touch. Before Rick, moments like this with the people he’d been with had never felt quite right, never made him truly happy. But this, something as simple as holding Rick close and enjoying the affection the other man gave him, this felt right in a way he couldn’t quite describe. It definitely felt like he was meant to be here, that this was where he’d always belonged. 

Rick let out a soft laugh and Shane noticed the warm smile on his tired features as he reached over the other man to turn out the lights. When Shane laid back down, Rick turned and kissed his head, fingers still playing with those soft curls. “Promise me you won’t kick me to the curb when I’m old and gray while you still look half your age?”

Shane couldn’t resist lifting his head to kiss Rick properly. “Never. You’re stuck with me for good, old man. I’ll still be bitching about those cowboy boots of yours when we’re both in the grave.” 

Rick returned the kiss, allowing it to linger. “As long as I’m with the love of my life for the rest of my life, I’ll be content.” 

It was Shane’s turn to smile. “You’re turning soft on me. That’s okay though, I love you, no matter how soft you are on the inside. My big tough sheriff husband with the heart of gold.”

Rick rolled his eyes a bit, as much as he could manage with sleep rapidly pulling him closer. He turned on his side, wiggling his way into Shane’s warm embrace. The other man was practically a space heater no matter the season. Combined with the feeling of the blankets Shane pulled over them contrasting with the cool air in the room around them thanks to the A/C, Rick couldn’t have felt more at ease.

“Goodnight, love.” Rick murmured, already drifting off. 

Shane hummed softly, slipping an arm to wrap around Rick’s waist to keep him close. “Sleep tight, cowboy.”

[zutaradreams]

1000 Follower Fic

When I reached 1000 followers, I decided to write a story based on one of the prompts for the latest Zutara month. This story features aged up characters, where Zuko is never banished and serves in the navy under Admiral Zhao. Katara and Sokka never find Aang and travel to the North Pole on their own. As requested, this is for Day 9: Shatter. Please enjoy! It will be up on AO3 soon! 

@zutaramonth

The Healing Hut

He says a lot of things as the fever works through him. He curses every time he moves, when he feels the pain surge through his body. He thinks he talks to Mai. He calls for his mother at one point. He imagines his father, but never lets a plea for him leave his lips. 

Through all the murmurs of a fevered man, the first thing he says consciously when he realizes he is not alone is:  “My uncle?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know your uncle.” Then two cool hands massage his temples, and he falls back to sleep.

  He hears a lot too. “I can’t leave. They’ll kill him.”

A man says, “The guards will make sure no one does.”

“The guards want to kill him.”

“They can’t. He’s worth more alive.”

“Not anymore,” the woman’s voice replies, the one the cool hands belong to. “He asked for an uncle.”

“That would be General Iroh.”

He wants to speak up, say “yes, did you find him”, but the air around him is so hot, and he feels like he can’t breathe. 

“Ozai’s brother,” the man adds. 

Ozai. 

The air feels hotter and hotter. He moans in pain. The hands find him. 

“That’s Ozai’s son you’re helping, Katara. And the whole tribe knows it.” 

“And they know this is the man who killed Zhao.”

“Yeah, too late,” the man sneers abhorrently. 

“He’s part of the reason I have my bending back.”

“Yue’s the reason you have your bending back!” he shouts. 

“Look, I couldn’t just let him die out there. Especially not by Zhao’s hand.”

“So you’ll save his life, nurse him back to health, and then what?”

The woman, Katara, gives no answer. She prods at his neck, his shoulders, his chest. He wants to shout at her to stop touching him; it all hurts so much. But then she pulls her hands away, and he realizes he does not hurt as much as he did before. 

“Good, your fever’s going down. Now how are those ribs?” Her hands trail down from his forehead to the center of his body. “Hmm, not as good as I want them to be. This might hurt a little.”

His chest seizes in pain immediately as she attempts to mend the shattered bones. He wishes he could stop her. He wishes he could burn her hands from his body. He wishes she would let him die. 

“There. That’s better,” she says softly, and opens his mouth to bend water down his throat. 

His fever breaks that night.

She’s not expecting to see his hazy eyes staring back at her when she enters the healing hut. It’s easier to heal Prince Zuko when his eyes are closed and he’s lying still. Now that he’s awake, now that his fever’s broken, now that his bones are on the mend, she wonders what to do with him. 

“You,” he says in a deep, raspy voice, deeper from his illness. “You were at the oasis.”

“Yes.” She stood with Sokka and Yue, trying to protect the moon spirit from Zhao and his men. 

“Katara.”

She wonders why he feels the need to call her by name. She’s surprised he even knows it. 

“I should be dead.”

“You should.”

“The force of Zhao’s attack-”

“I was able to heal most of the burned skin with minimal scarring. The force of the blow shattered your ribs. I had to work quickly to stop the internal bleeding. You’ll have to stay in bed longer, though. You still have a lot of healing left.”

“My uncle?” he asks again. 

“I don’t know.” 

As far as she knows, every Fire Nation soldier drowned in La’s revenge...every single one except Zuko. Sokka tells her La spared him because he would have died from his injuries. Katara thinks La spared him out of gratitude, for delivering the fatal blow to the one who harmed Tui. 

“Who would know?”

“I’ll ask around. Let me check on your ribs.”

Her hands are less steady now that golden eyes watch her every move. 

As soon as he can sit, he starts making demands - for a ship, for parchment, for an audience with the Chief. 

“Eat the food I brought you,” she says, rolling her eyes. She’s starting to prefer him unconscious. “The broth is delicious.”

“I need to let my father know I survived.”

“He knows,” she tells him. Chief Arnook sent word to the Fire Nation, hoping to settle on a ransom. “He knows you killed Admiral Zhao. You’ve been labeled a traitor to the Fire Nation.”

He hurls the bowl of soup at her. She bends it right back at him. 

Sokka urges her not to heal him again, and she’s inclined to agree. She holds out for three days before she wonders how his ribs are faring. 

He’s the only patient in this healing hut. He thinks he knows why. He’s a traitor to the land he’s from and a prisoner to the land he’s in. 

“What will your people do with me?” he asks, while she soothes the bruises beneath his scarred skin, evidence that his bones are moving back where they belong. 

“They’re not my people,” she reveals.

There’s nothing more absurd to him, that this young woman with hands cloaked in healing water, would not consider these people of the Northern Water Tribe hers.

 “I’m from the South. I came here with my brother a few years ago to learn waterbending.”

“I didn’t realize the South had any waterbenders left.”

Her hands still. 

“That’s thanks to your people.” 

He doesn’t see her again for five days. His ribs ache. 

“He’s a liability,” Chief Arnook says. 

“Yeah, especially now that you told the Fire Lord we have him,” mentions Sokka critically. The relationship between the two of them suffers irreparably now that Yue can no longer keep the peace between her father and her husband. 

Katara wonders if this means Sokka will consider leaving the North Pole now. Maybe she can convince him to come home, the way she had to convince him to leave all those years ago. But Sokka will never leave, not when he’s Arnook’s heir by marriage, not when he has a son he has to raise alone. 

This may be her time to leave, however. “I can take him back to the South Pole,” she offers. “That way the threat’s away from here. The Fire Nation won’t attack the South Pole. There’s no need when they’ve already taken everything. The North, on the other hand, has too much to lose.”

“Katara-“ her brother begins. He doesn’t want them to be separated. He still stands by some promise he made to their dad that he would always look after her. But she’s grown up now. She’s a master waterbender. And it’s time to go home and wait for new waterbenders to be born. It’s time for her to teach them. 

“My mind’s made up,” she says. 

Prince Zuko will return to the South Pole with her, as a prisoner of the Southern Water Tribe. 

He’ll trade one icy pole for another, it seems. When he hears the news, he wishes she had let him die. 

“When do we leave?”

“As soon as I think you’re able,” she replies. “It will be a long journey. You’ll need your strength. How do you feel today?”

His body feels better, but nothing else. His mind is raging at the thought of spending the rest of his life in that plundered village of ice and snow. He’s seen it before, briefly when he was under Zhao’s command, as they searched for the Avatar. He never wants to see it again. 

She helps support his weight when he begins walking again. His arm hangs around her shoulders, and though he’s working hard to keep the indignance plastered on his face, she can tell by the stride of his steps that he is eager to walk again. 

They take laps around the hut until his breaths grow heavy, and then she helps him back into his bed. He eats his soup without protest. 

A question persists on the tip of her tongue. It’s bothered her for weeks, and now she feels like he’s in a stable enough mood to answer it. “Why did you kill him?”

Zuko had attacked first, as soon as Zhao struck Tui, not the other way around. Zhao’s final blow, while intended fatally, had been in response to Zuko’s wave of fire. Even on the ground, with shattered bones and melted skin, Zuko rained fire down on Zhao until the admiral’s death. 

She would have done it, had her bending not been taken from her. Sokka would have, if he could have gotten close enough without being burned. Zhao expected this from them, the enemy. He clearly didn’t expect it from Zuko. So she wants to know why he did it.

Why did it matter so much to you?

“The sky’s not supposed to be red,” he replies, reminding her of how it felt to have the moon plucked from the sky, how it felt to be without her bending. “He could have destroyed the whole world. Mortals have no business with the spirits. We can’t understand them.” 

“Yeah, but La would have handled him, like he handled the rest. You didn’t have to.” 

“I didn’t know what La was going to do. I just knew what I had to do.”

“What did you think the mission was here?”

“I was told that we were here in case the Northern Water Tribe was harboring the Avatar. I didn’t know Zhao had other plans until we got to the oasis. No one knew. All those soldiers died fighting blindly.”

“They’re all fighting blindly if they think this war is justified,” she returns.

He’s standing in the healing hut when she comes to check on him. He knows not to leave; there are four guards right outside in case the idea ever strikes him. His back is straight, and if he’s in pain, he hides it well. 

Wordlessly, she sheathes her palms in water and presses them to his chest, searching for lingering damage to the bones. There’s barely any left. 

“I hope you don’t get seasick.”

“I don’t.” 

“We leave in a week,” she decides. A week is enough time to work out the details with Sokka, like where to avoid Fire Nation fleets and how much money she’ll be allowed to take with her, and which vessel she’ll be given. Sokka wants her to take a couple guards too, but she’s hesitant to add more stakes to the clandestine transport of the Fire Lord’s son. 

He smirks. “You shouldn’t have healed me before we left.” 

She’s seen what his hands can do. She won’t let that intimidate her. “You shouldn’t try anything. Not when I know exactly where you’re vulnerable.” Her hands can shatter as well as they can mend. He’ll learn that if he wants to survive the journey. 

He could melt the shackles, but he doesn’t desire to have molten metal coating his wrists. This will be his last morning in the healing hut, and his first morning outside in weeks. Two guards grab him by each arm and force him forward, not that they need to. He has no qualms walking out on his own. He wants to leave this land as much as they want him to. 

For a quick second, he pauses right outside the entrance of the hut, as soon as he feels the sun on his face. 

He looks up to the sky. It isn’t red. It’s blue. He’s a traitor and a prisoner. But the sky is blue.

[nekojitachan]

Don’t Wanna Fall - Wangxian MDZS/CQL Fic

Okay, so this is what happens when I get stressed and feel the need to write; the mind latched on to this story. It’s basically canon-divergent (CQL/The Untamed for the most part), fix-it, and a/b/o (with some slight twists) and is all plotted out.  I’d figure I’d post it here and throw up the beta’d parts on AO3.

Warnings for canon-typical violence, and more notes explaining things at the bottom.

*******

Wei Wuxian felt a precious sense of contentment as he sat near his sister and ate the soup she’d made; the emotion had been missing ever since the attack on Lotus Pier, and he knew it wouldn’t last long. Soon enough the sedative that Wen Qing had given him would render Jiang Yanli unconscious, and once Song Lan took her to the safekeeping of Lan Wangji and the Jins, then—then it was time to fix Jiang Cheng.

He pushed aside all thoughts on how they’d go about ‘fixing’ his brother while he finished the bowl of pork rib and lotus soup, unwilling to spoil his meal.

As soon as he set the empty bowl on the table, Jiang Yanli was quick to refill it. “You don’t have to—”

His sister gave him a stern look, her gaze shifting down to his abdomen before she shook her head. “You need to keep up your strength, A-Xian,” she chided, her voice pitched low so she didn’t disturb their brother, who was resting on the far side of the room. “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard, looking for a way to restore A-Cheng’s golden core. That’s not good… well, you need to rest.”

Wei Wuxian opened his mouth to tell her not to worry about him, but closed it a moment later without any words spoken after another stern look. For all her gentle mothering and sweet nature, Jiang Yanli was a true force to reckon with when she believed that those she loved weren’t taking care of themselves, which seemed to be the case right now. Especially since she knew that Wei Wuxian was pregnant.

He’d managed to hide that fact from everyone else, even Wen Qing, thanks to some clever talismans (desperation truly did help when it came to inspiration) and loose robes, but Jiang Yanli had been there when he’d figured out the truth, a few weeks after his return from the enforced ‘indoctrination’ at Qishan. From the time he’d spent trapped in the cave at Dusk-Creek Mountain with Lan Zhan. Just the two of them, an alpha and an omega, prevented access to the medicines which helped control their heats and ruts (as well as prevent pregnancies for omegas), so of course Lan Zhan had gone into rut after they’d killed the Tortoise of Slaughter (fighting the thing for so long probably had played some part in that), which had then instigated Wei Wuxian’s heat and….

At least it had been his dear shijie who’d found out about the baby and not Madame Yu, who probably would have thrown him out on the street with barely any clothes on his back after whipping him half to death (it wasn’t speaking ill of the dead if it was the truth), or Uncle Fengmian, who would have guilted him into naming the father so a hasty marriage could be arranged. Which really, what good would that do? Lan Zhan had barely been cognizant (hell, Wei Wuxian had barely been conscious) when the whole thing had happened, so why should his life be ruined as well?

Not that Wei Wuxian felt like his life was ruined by any means. He and Jiang Yanli had been talking about ways to get him away from Lotus Pier so he could give birth in secrecy, maybe have a trusted wetnurse look after the baby for a couple months and then he’d ‘find’ the ‘poor orphan’ and ‘adopt them’. Perhaps not the greatest plan, but it had been a work in progress.

Then the Wens had attacked Lotus Pier, and all that mattered was surviving another day.

He finished the last of the soup and smiled at Jiang Yanli, whose expression gentled into affectionate approval. “Delicious, as always. Shijie makes the best soup.” 

She smiled as she poured them both more tea. “Don't you feel better now?” Her gaze once more flickered to his abdomen when he nodded, but she couldn’t ask him about his little ‘lotus seed’ since they weren’t alone. He knew she worried about the baby, one more burden she bore, one more thing to sap her strength when she needed to focus on her own health, so he gave her as bright a smile as he could to ease her concerns.

They sat together and drank tea, content in each other’s presence; Wei Wuxian fiddled with the beaded charm bracelet on his left wrist while he waited for the sedative in the incense burner to take effect. Soon enough, Jiang Yanli’s eyes, marred by dark circles from exhaustion and worry, drifted shut as she slumped down to rest her head on her arms folded on top of the table. He finished the last of the tea and waited for Jiang Cheng to rise from the bed where he’d pretended to sleep so they could gently carry their beloved sister outside, where a carriage waited to take her to Lanling. 

Song Lan, sword in hand, stood beside the carriage and bowed to them once Jiang Yanli was safely tucked inside. “Young masters,” he said as he bowed. 

Before Wei Wuxian could wish the man a safe journey, Jiang Cheng shoved himself forward. “We’re trusting our sister in your care. You will deliver her untouched if you value your life,” he told Song Lan with a growl in his voice.

On one hand, Wei Wuxian was happy to see the return of his brother’s spirited, alpha nature (the way he’d been before the loss of his core), but on the other… while Song Lan was an alpha and Jiang Yanli an omega, Song Lan was a respected cultivator and owed them a debt, so could be relied upon to not harm their sister. Jiang Cheng’s threat was unnecessary and a bit insulting.

Song Lan merely bowed again, his face impassive. “I swear on my life that no harm will come to Maiden Jiang while she’s entrusted in my care, from others or myself.” He paused for a moment before he asked Wei Wuxian to pass a message on to Xingchen, only to change his mind and declare the request unnecessary.. 

“Thank you.” Wei Wuxian bowed to the cultivator before he left, and Jiang Cheng did the same after a moment. 

There was an ache in his chest as he watched Jiang Yanli leave, but Wei Wuxian knew it was for the best; she wasn’t a fighter yet would insist on the three of them remaining together despite the danger they faced. No, best that she was someplace safe, especially considering what Wei Wuxian planned to do next. 

The ache was quickly replaced by anger when Jiang Cheng slighted Wen Qing as they thanked her for her care; she might be a Wen, but she had risked her life (and Wen Ning his) to provide them medical care and shelter. Wen Ning had betrayed his own clan to help them back at Lotus Pier, and so the siblings deserved their respect.

All Jiang Cheng seemed to care about was restoring his golden core.

Wei Wuxian led his brother to where Baoshan Sanren supposedly lived, a nameless mountain outside of Yiling; he took a roundabout route in order to give the Wen siblings enough time to prepare for their arrival. Jiang Cheng tried to push forward as fast as he could, but was hampered by his lack of a golden core; Wei Wuxian used his brother’s reduced stamina to rest as often as he could, his own strength impeded by his pregnancy.

Ah, lotus seed, he thought as he placed a hand on his barely swollen belly while Jiang Cheng’s attention was diverted, what a chaotic world you’ve chosen to be born into. Interesting times indeed. Despite all the bad things that had happened recently—the attack on Lotus Pier, the deaths of Uncle Jiang and Madame Yu, Jiang Cheng losing his golden core, war about to break out at any moment—Wei Wuxian couldn’t include his unexpected pregnancy in it. True, he’d always thought he’d be mated at least when he started to have a family, but he already cherished the child growing inside of him regardless of how it had come about. 

His little lotus seed wasn’t an accident or mistake in his mind; Jiang Yanli accepted it, and he was certain Jiang Cheng would, too, once he found out (and yelled at him for being shameless for a week or two). That was, once Jiang Cheng had a golden core and they were somewhere safe, so Wei Wuxian could tell him the truth (and make him promise not to say anything to Lan Zhan) without adding to his brother’s burdens.

They finally reached the appropriate mountain peak almost two days laters; Wei Wuxian sent his brother on his way, blindfolded and with instructions on what to say to ‘Baoshan Sanren’. Jiang Cheng appeared apprehensive yet determined; Wei Wuxian watched him fumble his way blindly along the trail for some time before he quietly followed. When he caught up to Jiang Cheng, his brother had been rendered unconscious by a disguised Wen Qing and was being held by Wen Ning.

“Let’s get this done,” Wen Qing said as she discarded a hat draped with long, dark veils. She motioned for Wei Wuxian to follow her to where a tent had been set up; inside it were two pallets and several low tables covered with medical supplies, as well as a burning brazier. 

Wei Wuxian helped Wen Ning lay Jiang Cheng onto one of the pallets then knelt on the other and watched while the Wens did a quick examination of his unconscious brother. After a few minutes, Wen Qing nodded once, which appeared to be a signal to Wen Ning to begin to remove Jiang Cheng’s upper garments.

She turned her attention to Wei Wuxian. “Are you still certain you want to go through with this, even if there’s only a 50% chance it’ll work?”

“Yes.” Nothing had changed since the last time she’d asked him that question. “It doesn’t matter to me what happens to my golden core but Jiang Cheng can’t live without one.” He saw a flicker of pain cross her face and knew she’d been affected by his brother’s apathy before being given a hope of cultivating again. “Please, go ahead with the transfer,” he begged as he bowed low to her, his thoughts filled with how he had to make things right, had to make up for not being there to protect Jiang Cheng from Wen Zhuliu in the first place.

Wen Qing made a tsk’ing sound as she rapped her knuckles on the back of his head. “Stop that, we’ve no time for your foolishness.” She gave him a narrow look once he sat up. “You know I can’t sedate you during the surgery?” At his slight nod, she held out her hand. “It’ll affect your golden core, which will lower the success rate..”

“All right.” It wasn’t ideal, but somehow he’d manage.

“Hm.” Her lips pressed into a thin line as she continued to hold out her hand; behind her, Wen Ning finished undressing Jiang Cheng then turned his attention toward them, his hands resting on top of his thighs. “I need to check your qi,” Wen Qing said, an impatient bite to the words.

Wei Wuxian hesitated; he’d been careful to not let Wen Qing lay hands on him due to his pregnancy, but it looked as if he couldn’t avoid contact any longer. He sighed as he placed his hand in hers, and tried not to flinch when her fingers pressed against his wrist.

At first, Wen Qing’s expression remained the same (slightly annoyed, which really, such a shame to see it so often on a lovely face like that), and then her dark eyes grew wide and her lips parted with what could only be astonishment. Her strong fingers bit into Wei Wuxian’s wrist for a moment, then let go so she could smack him on top of his head.

“You fool!”

“Ow! That hurt, you hit me,” Wei Wuxian whined while Wen Ning called out his sister’s name.

“You’re pregnant!” Wen Qing glared at him while Wen Ning smiled, his face bright with joy.

“Congratulations, Master Wei, that’s such good—oh!” Wen Ning ducked his head and blinked in confusion when he was smacked by his sister as well. “A-jie?”

“It’s not good news,” Wen Qing snapped, her alpha nature flaring for a moment before she let out a slow breath and controlled herself. “He should have told me he’s pregnant, because there’s no way we can do the surgery now.”

“What?” Wei Wuxian snatched at Wen Qing’s hand while he shook his head, upset at the news; what did his condition have to do with anything? “Why can’t you? I’m perfectly fine, there’s no reason you can’t—”

“Because it’ll kill the child and possibly you if I go ahead with it!” Wen Qing shook her hand free and pressed it against his lower dantian while he stared at her in shock. “There’s the fact that your body will undergo a great strain during the surgery, and then another after you lose your golden core. Even if you both survived those things… the father was a cultivator, right?” She stared at him intently as her hand drifted to rest against his curved belly. “A powerful one?” There was a knowing glint to her eyes as she spoke, yet she didn’t mention any names.

“Yes.” Wei Wuxian refused to think about Lan Zhan right then, but he could acknowledge that much.

“Yes,” Wen Qing echoed while Wen Ning stared at the both of them as if he was an owl transformed into a human. “Which means the child will be a cultivator, too. It doesn’t have a golden core of its own yet, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t benefiting from yours.” Her expression took on a bitter edge as she rocked back on her heels, her hands clasped in her lap. “I’ve seen Wen Zhuliu wield his talent. Once, he was ordered to use it against the pregnant wife of a lord who’d angered Wen Rouhan. She survived, as did the child, but the boy couldn’t cultivate. You can make decisions for yourself all you want, but I won’t be responsible for harming a child or stripping it of its future.”

Wei Wuxian wrapped his arms around his middle as he tried to digest what he’d learned. “But… but Jiang Cheng,” he said as he glanced at his unconscious brother. “What’s going to happen when he wakes up without a core?” It would be worse than before, now that he’d been given the hope of having it restored.

Wen Qing cast a worried glance at Jiang Cheng then shook her head. “Maybe we can—”

“Wha—what about me?”

Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing gaped at Wen Ning; as usual, the quiet beta had faded into the background until he’d spoken. “What about you?” Wei Wuxian asked as he toyed with the beaded bracelet on his wrist. “Do you have an idea?”

“What about giving Young Master Jiang my core?��

Wen Qing was quick to shake her head. “No, that’s out of the question, we’ll figure something else out.”

For once, Wen Ning didn’t allow himself to be cowed by his older sister. “What, A-jie? This was the only solution you and Master Wei could find, and now he can’t go through with it. You can use my core instead,” he offered as he lightly thumped himself on the chest.

“No,” Wei Wuxian said, even as a part of him wanted to accept Wen Ning’s offer, to go along with anything that would save his little brother. “I can’t let you do this.” It was too much of a sacrifice.

“Neither can I.” Wen Qing grabbed hold of Wen Ning’s shoulders and gave him a quick shake as if to make him think properly. “I know you want to help, but this… this is too much! It’s your golden core!”

“I know that,” Wen Ning said as he placed his right hand on her shoulder, his expression earnest as always. “What good has mine ever done for me?” When she made as if to argue, he shook his head. “I’m not as strong as you and the young masters, and I know I’ll never be because of… of my illness.” He pressed his left hand against his chest while Wen Qing appeared guilt-stricken by his words. “You’ve done everything you could for me, but I’ll always be like this. I’m sure young Master Jiang will take my golden core and make something useful out of it.”

“There has to be something else we can do, you can’t just give up your golden core like this!” Wen Qing sounded near tears as she argued with her brother, yet Wen Ning held firm.

“You’re the best doctor I know, probably the best there is, A-jie, and if you don’t know about it then it doesn’t exist. And you know I’m never going to achieve much with mine, so give it to Master Jiang so he can make a difference in the world. It’s what I want.”

As Wen Qing began to cry, Wei Wuxian finally found his voice. “Wen Ning… you don’t have to do this. Any debt you believe you may owe me for saving your life has been repaid.” He wanted to accept what his friend was offering, but it was too much—especially after everything the siblings had done for them in the past couple weeks.

Wen Ning shook his head, his lips curled in a gentle smile. “I want to do it, Master Wei. This way… this way a part of me will be out there fighting, will be setting right the wrongs my clan are committing.”

The fact that he spoke so clearly and fervently, without any stuttering or self-consciousness, convinced Wei Wuxian that Wen Ning meant every word. Wen Qing must have realized the same, since she sat up straight and wiped away her tears, her expression solemn as she gazed at her brother.

“Do you truly want to do this?”

“Mm!” Wen Ning nodded once.

Wen Qing closed her eyes and took a deep breath as if centering herself. “Very well, you’ll assist me while I repair Jiang Wanyin’s meridians.” She then turned to Wei Wuxian. “I’ll need your help with the second part of the surgery.”

“Yes, anything you require,” he promised, unable to believe that they were still going through with the transfer after all. When Wen Qing stood and went over to the brazier, Wei Wuxian grabbed Wen Ning by the arm. “Thank you,” he told his friend, his voice thick with emotion.

Wen Ning smiled once more. “You’re welcome, Master—”

“No, no more of that,” Wei Wuxian said as he patted Wen Ning’s arm. “We’re brother’s now, so you have to call me Wei Ying or A-Xian or gege.” He grinned when Wen Ning attempted to stutter out a denial. “How about Ying-ge?”

“Bu—but—”

“No buts!” Wei Wuxian frowned at his new little brother. “I mean it, we’re family now. Accept it.”

Wen Ning, his face mottled with red, gawked at him for several seconds before he ducked his head. “Even A-jie?”

Wei Wuxian hummed as he rubbed the side of his nose. “Well, I already have the best big sister in the world, but I suppose Shijie won’t mind if I take on another one.” He grinned when he heard Wen Qing mutter something about how she should have kept her mouth shut about his condition.

“Mm, A-jie is amazing.” Wen Ning paused for a moment before he gave Wei Wuxian a quick pat on the left shoulder. “Ying-ge.” Then he scurried over to his sister’s side while Wei Wuxian was left stunned silent at his new nickname.

Once Wen Ning was within reach, Wen Qing cradled his face between her hands and gazed into his eyes until he gave a slight nod. There was a rasp to her voice when she told him to prepare for the transfer, which disappeared when she ordered Wei Wuxian to her side so she could explain to him what she required over the next couple days. Basically, he would watch the first part of the operation to become familiar with the items Wen Qing needed, would fetch anything she asked him to, and would provide spiritual energy to her, Wen Ning and Jiang Cheng. 

He quickly agreed to everything, considering that Wen Qing was doing all the hard work and Wen Ning giving up his own golden core, leaving him to do very little (relatively speaking).

Wei Wuxian had already considered Wen Qing a brilliant doctor, having read through the medical treatises she’d written and witnessing her talent first-hand. Now, he had to agree with Wen Ning’s assertion that she was the best one alive after watching her painstakingly heal the damage Wen Zhului had wrought to his brother’s meridians so Wen Ning’s core could be transplanted into his body, her concentration and control not slipping once over the long hours. He fed them both a slight stream of energy and tried not to think of his friend’s hands in his brother’s abdomen.

He tried not to think about how very soon, those hands would be in Wen Ning’s abdomen.

When it came time to remove Wen Ning’s golden core, the young man laid down beside Jiang Cheng without any hesitation, a reassuring smile on his broad face which froze in place when his sister paralyzed him with her needles. Wei Wuxian held his friend’s hand as Wen Qing cut into his flesh, the tightness around her eyes her only sign of distress.

If Wei Wuxian thought that time had passed slowly while she had worked on Jiang Cheng, it practically crawled during the hours it took for Wen Qing to remove Wen Ning’s golden core. Only the fact that the glowing sphere didn’t disperse into nothing when she quickly shoved it into Jiang Cheng’s lower belly made the muffled moans of agony from Wen Ning bearable, put to rest the thought that such a selfless young man had suffered everything for no reason.

It took a couple more hours before Wen Qing finished with everything (and finally allowed her brother to pass out); she slumped exhausted next to Wei Wuxian, who’d practically drained himself dry feeding spiritual energy to her, Jiang Cheng and Wen Ning. “Stop that,” she mumbled when he tried to give her a little more. “Think of the baby.”

“I’m thinking I won’t be any good for anyone if something goes wrong.” He groaned as he rested against the side of the tent as well. “It worked, right?” The last time he’d checked, he felt a steady pulse of qi in Jiang Cheng; it wasn’t as strong as his old core had been, but it was there. Wei Wuxian figured that for now, it was enough for Jiang Cheng to wield a sword and fly (for short distances at least), and that his brother would work hard to make it stronger.

“Yes, it worked.” Wen Qing cast a tender look at her brother. “It had to work.”

“What happens now?”

She closed her eyes and tilted her head back as if contemplating the question; Wei Wuxian got up to pour them each a cup of tea, and smiled when Wen Qing gave him a slight nod in gratitude for the drink. “Now… I’ll monitor them for a few more hours. Once he’s stable, you can leave. When he’s healed enough, I’ll let him wake up so he can go, too.”

“What about you?” Wei Wuxian frowned when she didn’t answer. “What are the two of you going to do?”

Wen Qing gave a one-shoulder shrug. “What does it matter? You got what you wanted.”

“Because I wasn’t lying when I said you’re family now,” he said as he lowered the cup of tea. “And I want to know that my family will be safe. Don’t make your didi worry about you.” He pouted for added effect.

She turned enough to look at him, her expression inscrutable, before she shook her head, a hint of a smile on her lips. “You’re incorrigible.” 

“I’m adorable, brilliant and handsome, my shijie tells me that all the time.” He smiled when Wen Qing rolled her eyes at that statement. 

“You’re also delusional.” When he went to complain, Wen Qing held up her hand and gave him a stern look before she glanced at their sleeping brothers. “I’ll wait until A-Ning heals, which will take longer, and then we’ll return to the Supervisory Office.”

He frowned at that and rubbed his nose. “Is that wise? What if they come looking for Wen Ning for helping us?”

Wen Qing shook her head then sipped her tea; Wei Wuxian shifted so he could lift the pot and refill her cup. “Let them come. I’ll tell them I’ve already handled his punishment.”

It took Wei Wuxian a moment to realize what she meant. “You’ll tell them that you removed his golden core for helping us.” He gazed at her in admiration, for being able to turn her brother’s sacrifice into something that would protect them both.

She nodded once. “It’s a way fo both of us to escape Wen Rouhan’s wrath without him being turned into a puppet or being tortured, and should keep him from being sent to fight.”

No one needed to know that Wen Ning had done it willingly or that Wen Qing would never treat her beloved younger brother so harshly, no one but the three of them. “We’ll still keep this a secret from Jiang Cheng.” Wei Wuxian had planned to not let his brother know about the transfer of golden cores when it was supposed to be his golden core sacrificed, and saw no reason for that to change now.

Wen Qing nodded again. “That’s likely for the best,” she said, which surprised Wei Wuxian since she’d argued differently before. “He’ll probably suspect A-Ning of some ulterior motive for giving up his core.”

Wei Wuxian didn't say anything, he merely pressed his lips together at the thought of how Jiang Cheng couldn’t see past the hatred for all Wens and realize how much the two siblings had done for them. Instead, he inhaled slowly and took the empty cup from Wen Qing’s slightly trembling hand. “Get some rest,” he told her. “I’ll watch these two for a few hours and wake you if there’s any sign of trouble. Sleep a little then you can check Jiang Cheng one more time before I go.”

It looked as if she wanted to argue, but Wen Qing was too exhausted from the golden core transfer to remain awake much longer. She examined Wen Ning and Jiang Cheng briefly then finally stretched out near her brother to sleep, unconscious within a few seconds.

Wei Wuxian brewed more tea and nibbled on a handful of dried fruit one of the Wen siblings had packed (probably Wen Ning) while he forced himself to remain awake. He would check his brother and Wen Ning every now and then, to reassure himself that Jiang Cheng’s new golden core hadn’t vanished and that Wen Ning continued to recover, then tried to distract himself with plans on what to do next.

He’d leave Jiang Cheng on the mountain with the Wen siblings to continue healing and go to Yilin to wait for him at the inn they’d agreed upon earlier. Once they both were up to it, they’d travel to Lanling to reunite with Jiang Yanli and look into the rumors of Qinghe calling the clans together for war. 

Oh, and at some point Wei Wuxian would have to let his brother in on the secret about his lotus seed, but one thing at a time. He figured he’d worry about that when he was far enough along that they couldn’t fight—well, that Jiang Yanli was there to keep Jiang Cheng from throttling him then attempting to kill Lan Zhan for ‘besmirching’ his ‘honor’.

“Ah, lotus seed, it may be small but it’s a wonderful family you’ll have,” he whispered while he rubbed his belly. “Your aunt will spoil you with the best food and your uncle will fight off anyone who dares to look at you the wrong way. You certainly will be loved.” He thought about the stranger he’d met at the market in Yunmeng, right after he’d realized he was pregnant. Somehow, the woman had known about his condition when not even Madame Yu had figured it out, and had gifted him with the beaded charm bracelet he now wore on his left wrist, which she swore would provide protection to him and his child. She also had said that his child would be a powerful cultivator and that she had an old soul, the woman’s expression wistful as she talked about the unborn babe. 

Wei Wuxian wasn’t one to take such prophecies seriously, but there’d been something about the woman, a quiet yet deep thrum of power to her, a reverberation of truth to her words, and a comforting sense to the bracelet, that he accepted the gift and bowed in gratitude to her before walking away. That and… well, who didn’t want to hear that their child would grow into a powerful cultivator? Not that he had many doubts of it happening, considering that Lan Zhan was the father. 

“I do hope you’re a girl,” he said as he glanced at a sleeping Wen Qing. “Someone like mom to give those stuffy Lans fits.” He didn’t think that Lan Zhan would try to force any claim on the child if the truth came out, not when there was no mating bond between them nor marriage, but there would be less pressure on the Lan clan’s heir if Wei Wuxian bore a girl; they tended to favor men as sect leaders, not women.

“You’ll be Yunmeng Jiang, just like me.” Wei Wuxian smiled as he thought about a young woman robed in purple, her long hair held back with a red ribbon. Would she have grey eyes like him and his mother, or golden ones like Lan Zhan? Best if they were grey, he decided. He hoped she would have his mother’s smile, one of the few things he clearly remembered about her, and the sense of humor everyone said he had inherited from the woman. 

Mostly, he wished that his child never grew up like he did, starving on the streets and all alone, orphaned at a young age. He swore he’d always be there for his child, that they would never know such grief and fear.

When he felt as if he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer, Wen Qing stirred and slowly sat up. She blinked a couple times then whirled around to her brother, her hands seeking out the pulse point on his left wrist; after a moment, she sagged in relief then continued with the examination. While she did that, Wei Wuxian brewed a fresh pot of tea.

Once she had examined Jiang Cheng as well, he handed her a cup of tea. “Everything good?”

“Yes.” Her dark eyes narrowed while she sipped the hot beverage. “Did you get any rest?” When he shrugged, she set the cup aside and snatched at his wrist, only to click her tongue after a few seconds. “You’re very low on spiritual energy and nearing the limits of your body. You need to sleep.”

“I’ll get plenty, once I get to Yilin,” he promised, even going as far as to raise three fingers by his forehead. “I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t forget that you’re responsible for more than yourself now.” Wen Qing placed a hand over his growing belly and concentrated for a few seconds before she clicked her tongue again. “What the gods were thinking by making you an omega, we’ll never know,” she said as she turned away.

“That my children will be as beautiful, clever and adored as I am,” Wei Wuxian said after he stuck his tongue at her (while her back was turned, he wasn’t stupid). 

Wen Qing glanced heavenward as if beseeching the gods for patience, then shoved several things into a small bag. Once she was done, she handed it to Wuxan. “Chew on these on your way to Yilin. And be careful from now on,” she admonished, her tone harsh but eyes filled with concern, “because there’s not much else we can do for you.”

Wei Wuxian accepted the bag and gave her a deep bow. “I am eternally in you and Wen Qionglin’s debt for everything you’ve done for me and my siblings. If you need anything, you just have to ask. Anything.”

She sighed and tugged on the sleeve of his black hanfu to make him stand up straight. “I thought we were family now, there’s no need for such things.” Then she wrinkled her upturned nose. “That and it seems unnatural, seeing you act like this.”

“Aww, Qing-jie is- aiya!” Wei Wuxian stumbled backwards, away from the needles suddenly brandished in his face.

“Don’t call me that, and shouldn’t you be leaving?” Wen Qing gave him a cool look and didn’t put the needles away until he nodded.

She begrudgingly waited for him to say ‘goodbye’ to his unconscious brother then walked with him back to the trail which would lead down the mountain. Assured that JIang Cheng would be alright, as would Wen Ning, Wei Wuxian wished her ‘goodbye’ as well and went on his way. He discovered that she’d given him several small balls of herbs that tasted horrible when he chewed them, but helped push aside the exhaustion so that he made good time back to Yilin. 

Still, all he wanted was to eat a good meal, have a long, hot bath and then sleep for a day or two. He thought longingly about a few jars of wine, until he felt the charm bracelet slip along his left wrist.

“The sacrifices I make for you, lotus seed,” he said as he walked, struck by a strong pang of loss yet again for Subian; if only he had his sword, he’d already be in Yilin.

If only he had his sword, maybe things would have been different when the Wens had attacked Lotus Pier. 

Eventually, he finally arrived at the designated inn on the outskirts of Yilin; he was so tired, he hardly recalled much of the last half-day of travel. Perhaps that was the reason why Wen Chao found him so quickly, or maybe it was just a case of truly bad luck. All Wei Wuxian knew was that he’d barely sat down in the inn when Wen Chao, along with Wen Zhuliu, Wang Lingjiao and several soldiers, burst into the building.

He got up to run away, only to find Wen Zhuliu in his path; the man grabbed him by the front of his robes with his left hand, his right hand pressed against Wei Wuxian’s chest, before the bastard frowned and pulled the hand back to punch Wei Wuxian instead and send him flying through the air to land on top of a table. Exhausted and still drained of energy, both physical and spiritual, Wei Wuxian could do little more than curl his body in a manner to protect the child growing inside of it.

As soon as he regained his footing, one of the soldiers kicked him in the back, which knocked him onto the ground. Wen Chao, the smug asshole, trod on his right hand and taunted him, asking him why didn’t he get up and where his arrogance had gone. He was told to get back up, despite the asshole standing on his foot; eventually two soldiers had to haul him upright.

“Where is Jiang Cheng?” Wen Chao demanded to know. “What, you don't want to talk? You know you can’t save him even if you remain silent. Right now, Jiang Cheng is merely a waste. He’s no better than livestock.”

Wei Wuxian listened to the useless second son of the Wen clan insult his brother and the Yunmeng Jiang clan, as he was told to beg like a dog (a dog!) and crawl on the ground if he wanted to be let go (he knew it was a lie, did Wen Chao think he was as stupid as him?). Even Wang Lingjiao started yipping away as if she was of any importance.

Of course Wei Wuxian didn’t take them up on their ‘offer’ (blatant lie), so it wasn’t any surprise when the arrogant asshole ordered his soldiers to beat him; once again, Wei Wuxian curled up in a protective manner to protect his child as much as possible. Part of him wondered how the soldiers would react if they knew they were attacking a pregnant omega, before he decided that Wen Chao probably wouldn’t care about breaking such an important taboo (and he couldn’t risk the Wens finding out that Lan Zhan was the father).

The assault eventually stopped, only for Wen Chao to threaten Wei Wuxian as if he was anything more than a pathetic bully whose only real power lay in the weapons his father loaned out to him. There was a moment of fear when he called upon Wen Zhuliu to destroy Wei Wuxian’s core, but Wei Wuxian managed to talk his way out of it before the man moved to obey. He foolishly believed that might be improving (despite Wang Lingjiao slicing into his chest with that damn brand she never seemed to be without), before he was dragged out of outside and hauled into the air.

At first he thought they might be taking him to Qishan with the intent of throwing him in the dungeons there, but eventually Wen Chao, the pompous asshole, began talking about the Burial Mounds in Yiling. Wei Wuxian’s eyes grew wide and his heart raced when it became clear what was going to happen to him, but he was too battered and drained of energy to do more than attempt to struggle. Not a moment later, mocking laughter broke out as he was flung downward, toward the darkness and source of overpowering resentful energy that was the Burial Mounds.

Pushing all panic aside, he quickly cast a talisman for wind in an attempt to slow his descent; it worked somewhat, but he still rushed toward the ground. He tried another one, which seemed to have a greater effect (there was an odd heat around his left wrist for some reason), so he then cast his binding spell, the gleaming blue thread forming on his left wrist, which he cast out as he quickly approached what looked to be large trees. Be it by luck or the blessings of the gods, it managed to latch on to one of the tall, spindly structures. A sharp pain tore through his left shoulder when the line grew taut, but his impact upon the ground was lessened to the point that he didn’t die immediately.

No, he merely passed out.

He woke to the sound of screams, of voices calling out his names and cries of vengeance, and a wall of fierce corpses standing in the near distance. Surprised that he hadn’t been devoured by the undead creatures while unconscious, he noticed two things: that there was a glowing, pale blue circle around him and that just outside of it floated the sword he’d found inside the Tortoise of Slaughter and had placed inside his quankin pouch. Confused, battered both by resentful energies and what the Wens had done to him, Wei Wuxian managed to sit up somewhat, hunched forward as he felt for the spark of life inside of him that had been steadily growing the last few months. He almost slumped face first into the ground when he realized that his unborn child had survived everything (so far, a hysterical voice whispered in his head) by some miraculous means.

He needed to get his act together and ensure his lotus seed remained alright; that meant figuring a way to get out of the Burial Mounds alive, something no one had ever done. It was a good thing the Yunmeng Jiang clan’s motto was ‘attempt the impossible’.

He took in the bleak surroundings: the bones scattered everywhere and numerous gravestones, the mist which obscured his vision after a few yards, and a lack of sunlight which made it impossible to tell the time of day. There was the oppressive miasma of resentful energy along with the endless chorus of voices calling out to him, which he did his best to block out of his head. His right hand clutched at the bracelet around his left wrist while he attempted to concentrate, his fingers quick to find the gap from two missing beads.

Had they been broken in the fall? Or during the beating back at the inn? Wei Wuxian didn’t have much time to ponder what had happened to the charm since the intensity of the voices’ shrieking increased to a painful level, as did the pressure from the resentful energy. He struggled to fight against the insidious forces, but he didn’t have much spiritual energy.

However, he remembered that the odd sword had some sort of power to it, that it seemed tied to the ghostly voices in the Dusk-Creek Mountain cave. Or maybe he’d hit his head on something during the fall, or been kicked one too many times by those Wen bastards. The thing was, he and his unborn child weren’t going anywhere unless he did something, and right then? The sword seemed the only source of power around, which meant it might be of some help.

Or it might be one huge mistake, but Wei Wuxian didn’t have many choices available as well as a history of turning mistakes into his favor (well, mostly). 

He half-crawled toward the sword and only hesitated a moment to reach past the safety of the circle (where had it come from?) for the weapon’s hilt. For a moment all was quiet, and then the screaming came back in force.

Wei Wuxian

Do you want vengeance?

Young Master Wei

Stay with us

Hurt the ones who’ve hurt you, Wei Wuxian

Wei Ying

Do you want to stay?

What about vengeance?

The voices were so loud, so constant, as were their shrieks of pain and rage. He thought some of them sounded familiar, thought they might be the dead from Lotus Pier, yet he also thought he heard Lan Zhan say his name once or twice when he dwelled on the voices calling for vengeance. By the time he reached the sword, the voices were an incoherent cacophony in his head that funneled to one thunderous question as his hands wrapped around ice-cold metal.

DO YOU WANT VENGEANCE?

For a moment, Wei Wuxian could see himself standing in the Palace of Sun and Flames, surrounded by an endless sea of Wen corpses, the heads of Wen Rouhan and his sons mounted on pikes behind him. He hungered for the vision to come true, for the Wens to pay for what they’d done to the Jiangs and the Lans… and then he felt a faint flutter in his belly and heard Wen Qing chide him to take better care of himself.

“I… I want the power to protect myself and my loved ones,” he told the voice (the sword?). “To defend them from those who would cause harm.” Who had caused harm.

VENGEANCE!

He thought of Jiang Yanli and shook his head.”I want more than that for my child!” He didn’t want someone to come after her for what he’d done, he wanted an end to the fighting. “Protection!”

Child? 

A child. Home

Family

It was faint, but some of the voices seemed to be breaking off from the sword. “Yes, a child, my child. I’ll fight anyone to keep them safe, can’t you understand that?” To give them a happy, safe life.” I want to give them peace, not eternal war,” he pleaded with the sword and the voices. “I understand revenge, I want it, too, but not at the cost of my child’s peace. Help me give my child peace.”

Vengeance

Family, they took away my family

I only wanted a husband and child of my own

Wei Ying

My child was so young

Was he getting somewhere with them? Wei Wuxian gritted his teeth together, his hands long turned numb from holding onto the sword, and offered the voices (the dead) a consoling smile. “Help me, and I’ll help you,” he promised.

*******

Somehow all my italics got messed up. Grrr.

So, the a/b/o here - it’s more lowkey than in other fics, if you can’t tell, and basically comes across as how people reproduce. People don’t put down omegas as being weak or lesser, it just means they are more fertile than betas and can bear children (and so usually have a protected status, especially when pregnant). An alpha/omega pairing will produce the most offspring, but other pairings can technically produce them as well, just with less odds of success. That means no one looks down on WWX for being an omega, though they’d chastise him (and his partner) for having a child out of wedlock and for him not taking care of himself while pregnant. That’s more to deal with the value placed on family and honor than anything.

No obvious scenting, either, at least not until one is in heat/rut, and it’s considered normal for people to take daily medicine (tea or the such) to lessen the impact of them if not put them off all-together, and to prevent unplanned pregnancies.

Also, I’m probably going to skip most honorifics except the immediate family ones. I’ve only the very beginning knowledge of Chinese. Please forgive any mistakes there along with the culture, I appreciate any corrections.

And I promise, a new chapter of Casts a Shadow up this weekend!