#is this ever going to be a longer fic? maybe

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch5. child's play

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, and have been taking care of your sick mother ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket to more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance plan in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity, mentions of cigarettes, depression/anxiety; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 5/x

ᰔ words. 4.8k

a/n. helloo my ihm friends! long time no see. hope you're all doing well and thank you so much to everyone who sent me kind messages about the whole ihm gojo ex wife thing haha. i really appreciate it :) i feel more confident about my writing decisions now, and that's all thanks to you guys! anyways, i will be posting shorter chapters for ihm going forward, so sorry if some chapters have slightly abrupt endings or stuff like that. i guess my goal is to post shorter chapters but more frequently! we'll see how it works out. anyways, hope you enjoy this chapter and see you at the bottom!!

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 :: ch6 (pending)

Ever since admitting your mother into hospice, things have been calmer inside your mind. After passing the initial wave of agony that came with no longer hearing her voice down the hall or seeing her silhouette in her bedroom as you walked past it, you realized that…a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. No longer setting alarms at the height of every other hour to remind your mother to take her medication, no longer viewing every interaction you had with her as some form of study you needed to jot down in a binder for her neurologist’s records, and no longer driving her to all of her chemotherapy appointments, only to leave them feeling like you purposefully just took your mother to a place where they sucked all the life out of her in exchange for the slim promise of giving it all back to her someday.

Maybe it was evident in the way your shoulders felt less tense as you rolled them back, tilting your neck to the side and no longer feeling the painful strain that tugs a wince onto your face. The other day, you caught yourself humming a song as you drove to work. Your skin, usually feeling cracked and dry from stress and exhaustion, now has a slight plumpness to it like before. A more youthful glow, like the version of yourself you were before your mother became sick. The version of you that so quickly deteriorated, and one you didn’t even know still existed somewhere within you. 

There has also been time for hobbies. Rarest of occasions, you find yourself sauteing some yellow and white peaches in a saucepan over medium heat in Gojo’s kitchen, humming that song once again that’s been stuck in your head. The sundress you’re wearing matches the pink of the syrup that pools at the bottom of the pan, and you feel like you’re living your cottage core dreams in this brief moment of reprieve you’ve allowed yourself to fall into.

The sound of slippers tapping down onto the hardwood floor startles you out of your gleeful trance, and you turn your neck to the right to see a pajama-clad messy-haired Gojo shuffling his feet across the open area into the kitchen with a dark black mug in his hand.

“Why aren’t you dressed??” you ask him in a panic.

“I’ll get dressed later,” he tells you dismissively as he grabs the glass pitcher of coffee from where the coffee machine was nestled up against one of the counter corners.

“You’re stressing me out. Your mom told us to be there in two hours,” you say, putting your hands on your hips in disapproval as you hear the sizzle of the peaches in the saucepan. 

He entirely ignores you, choosing to instead drag his gaze down the form of your body. “Woooow, twice this month I get to see you in a cute dress,” he comments, pouring coffee into his mug but his eyes are still on you, “lucky me.”

“Oh Shut. Up,” you sneer at him with a harsh roll of your eyes, “your fake flattery might work on the lonely middle-aged women you seduce to make a living, but it won’t work on me.”

His shoulders push back before he slumps them slightly, his brow lifting with confusion. “It’s not fake though? I mean it. You look really nice right now.”

You point an accusatory sugar-syrup coated wooden spatula at him. “You’ve just been conditioned by the patriarchy to get a boner at the sight of a woman in a kitchen.”

“What–...no–...why do you always have to say stuff like that whenever I compliment you? Can’t you just accept it?”

You cross your arms over your chest. “I refuse to be flattered by an insolent man like you.”

He sighs, setting his coffee mug down on the counter, and you watch the way the fringe of his hair hangs over his forehead as he gazes into the contents, swirling it around with a loose grip on the handle. “Is this how it’s going to be everyday? I try to be nice, and you–...well, you know, are you.”

“Well who else should I be?”

His eyes lift up to meet yours, the slightest of a cheeky grin on his face as his eyes wander down the form of you again. “I don’t know. Someone a little…softer? Like, you’ve got this really pretty dress on, and then you’re telling me off about patriarchy-induced boners. It’s a little, uh, contradictory?”

You gasp. “You’re trying to control me. I knew it. You are poisoned by the patriarchy.”

“What?”

Your eyes narrow at him. “You have this image of a perfect and cute little wife, who’s gonna wear pretty dresses all the time, and bake stuff in the kitchen, and get all blushy when you tell her she looks beautiful, and you expect her to have this soft little personality that never argues with you or disagrees with you…ALL BECAUSE OF THE PATRIARCHY!!!”

“...I–...Okay, you’ve lost me.”

You let out a hmph! noise. “Can’t even discern his own brainwashing. Sad.”

“All of this just because I tried to tell you that you look nice?”

“I know what your ulterior motives are, you creep.”

His eyes spark a little at that, the corner of his mouth tugging up into a cheeky grin as he sets the coffee mug down onto the marble counter and he straightens his spine. You blink, watching with confusion as he crosses the distance between the two of you, to where you’re taking a small few steps backwards until your lower back presses against the edge of the island countertop. He cages you into the surface with his frame, followed by the palms of his hands sliding over the marble on both sides of you, and you feel his forearms press against the curve of your waist as he traps you in with no way out.

“S-Satoru,” you stutter, looking up at him with wide eyes, “what are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?” he says, his voice deeper with a nonchalance that has you shiver, his gaze dropping to your lips when you part them slightly.

“T-The patriar–” you squeak out, but he suddenly dips his head down to kiss you.

Your breath hitches in your throat, eyes immediately closing when he moves his lips against yours, one of his strong arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer to him and your hesitation is something that only lasts a brief second before you find yourself kissing him back. Some noise leaves his throat, deep and raw and sounding pleasantly surprised as he captures your lips more fervidly now, his hands smoothing down to hold your hips and his teeth slightly nip at your bottom lip. 

You grab a fistful of his shirt, unsure of whether you want to pull him closer to you or push him away, but the moan that you mumble against his lips only makes his grip on your hips even stronger, fingers digging into the softness through the thin fabric of your dress. 

The oven suddenly starts beeping, startling you and you pull away from the kiss with a gasp, eyes rounded as you look up at him, but his are lidded and dilated as his gaze remains glued to your lips. 

With a heaving chest, you try to push him away by a weak fist to his sternum but he’s unrelenting.

“You taste sweet,” he says, like some comment he noted in his head but accidentally voiced out loud.

“I–...” you inhale sharply, “I just ate three macerated peaches.”

“Uh-huh,” he barely acknowledges before leaning in to get another taste, but you push him away harsher this time.

His hands let go of your hips entirely, finally breaking out of that kiss-induced trance he was in, but he still remains close to you in proximity, so much so to where you can feel the heat from his body. It’s comforting almost, radiating through the soft cotton of his long sleeve shirt, and you find yourself subconsciously leaning towards him before you snap out of it too, and rock your weight back against the island countertop.

You cross your arms over your chest, hoping the flush to your cheeks isn’t showing. “Oh okay so we just casually kiss now?”

He shoves his hands into his plaid pajama pant pockets, leaning away from you slightly. “For as long as I can get away with it, yeah.”

“You are breaking the rules.”

“You never said no kissing.”

“I said no touching.”

“Ehhh kissing isn’t really touching, though, is it?”

“You sound stupid.”

“I always sound stupid to you.”

The oven starts beeping again, and you realize it’s long been preheated to the setting you had placed earlier. You slip away from him with haste, feeling his gaze on you as you press a button on the oven to turn the alarm off, and you stare at the handle for a moment or two to calm the beating of your heart down. 

Your eyes catch sight of something on the side of the fridge. A little magnet made of rubber that has the word London on it as well as the design of the Westminster Cathedral with golden accents. You recall that Gojo went on a trip to London recently, and that he didn’t bring you back any souvenirs from there like he did for your other neighbors. And you want to pretend, you want to shove it down, that incessantly childish feeling that wonders why he didn’t bring you anything back. You want to continue to pretend like it doesn’t hurt your feelings. Something so miniscule and small. But you–...well, you can’t.

You spin around to face him. “Do you hate me?” you bluntly ask.

He blinks at you. “Huh?”

“Do you, what, I don’t know, think I’m annoying or something?”

He shrugs with his hands still in his pockets. “I mean, yeah, I do think you’re annoying sometimes. But in a silly way. Like we’re just pals horsin’ around, y’know?”

You snarl at him, putting your hands on your hips and narrowing your gaze until he’s hardly even visible anymore. “No. I actually find you annoying. Like, wanna-run-you-over-with-a-bus annoying. You just have horrendous social awareness and think that everyone loves you.”

“You actually don’t like me?” he asks, like he can’t even believe that someone wouldn’t.

“Yes,” you say, “now get out of my way.” You make an attempt to push past him, purposefully knocking your shoulder into him to assert dominance but he is unfortunately much bigger than you and so all it does is make you stumble ungracefully from the recoil.

He quickly grabs your arm to steady you, and you glare up at him before yanking yourself away and then step backwards until your back hits the fridge.

He studies your demeanor for a second before taking a deep inhale, and then lets it all go in a heaving sigh. “What do I have to do to get you to lighten up a bit?” he asks.

“You really want to know?” you sneer at him.

“Yes,” he says with a slight hint of frustration in his tone.

You cross your arms. “Pay for the fucking fence.”

He blinks at you, confusion replacing whatever frustration was previously decorating his tone. “What?”

“The fence,” you reiterate with a step forwards towards him, “the one I built six months ago. The one where you laughed in my face when I told you to help pay for it.”

He leans forward. “Yeah. Because I never wanted that fence built. Like I said, it fucked up the roots on my avocado tree. You should’ve asked me before building it. In fact, it’s illegal to build a fence without joint consent of both neighboring property owne–”

“Oh my god, okay, see? This is why I can’t stand you,” you snarl at him and make another move to get past him but he easily steps in front of you to keep you from going anywhere.

With a sigh, he relents. “Fine, I’ll pay for the fence.”

You try to keep the twitching muscles of your face still as you resolutely stare up at him, pressing your lips into a thin line. Through a strained tone, you say, “No. I don’t want you to pay for it anymore.”

He lifts a brow, utterly bewildered at this point. “Huh?”

“Now it just feels like pity. And I don’t want your pity money.”

“Two seconds ago, you did.”

“Yeah, well, whatever. That was two seconds ago.”

“So…let me get this straight, you don’t want me to pitch in?”

“No. I want you to have wanted to pitch in SIX MONTHS AGO.”

“Okay but what the fuck am I supposed to do about that now?”

“NOTHING!!!” you finally snap at him, the shrill to your voice startling him slightly to where you see his shoulders jump, and his eyes are now rounded blue as he looks at you. “There’s nothing you can do about it, there’s nothing you can do to get me to ‘lighten up’ or ‘act softer’ or whatever the fuck kind of damage control you aim to achieve with me due to your pestering incessant need to be liked by every fucking person you come across. So just deal with the fact that I hate you and let me do it in peace.”

He’s silent for what feels like a long time as he blinks at you, his bottom lip pushing up slightly in a way that suggests he’s almost impressed by your little outburst, then he takes a step forward, and in that one large stride, he’s closed any distance between the two of you. Your back is up against the frigid steel of the fridge, your heels tucked under the warm rubber at the foot of it, and you’re looking up at Gojo as he towers over you, his hands still annoyingly and relaxedly shoved into his pockets.

“Do you think it’s gonna be a problem that I think you’re kinda hot when you’re mad?” he asks you.

A small puff of air leaves your lips, like you just can’t believe the audacity, but also having him this close to you suddenly made it a little harder to breathe. “C–...Can you just be fucking serious for one second?”

His head dips down, the fringe of his hair tickling your forehead, tip of his nose slightly brushing against yours, but his gaze never falls to your lips. “You think I’m not being stupid fuckin’ serious when I say that you’re hot?”

“S–” your breath hitches in your throat, and his gaze finally falls to the lick you pass over your lips, “Satoru–”

Like God himself answered to your (cognitively dissonant) prayers, the bell rings, and Gojo leans himself away from you, straightening his spine so he can glance over his shoulder towards the door, a slight look of irritation on his face through the furrow of his brow.

You blink up at him. “A–...Are you expecting someone?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “No. Don’t think so.” He sighs before shuffling around the kitchen island and across the dining hall towards the entryway of the house, and you peer at the sight from across the hall.

When he opens the door, you see Sana standing outside, dressed in mom jeans and a t-shirt with her black Coach purse slung around her shoulder, arms crossed, and you barely register the fact that she looks pissed.

“Sana?” Gojo says, “what’s up.”

She entirely ignores him when she catches sight of you, pushing right past him and into the family room that you were currently finding solace in.

“You,” she points at you, storming right up to your personal space, “what the hell did you say to Juno when you were babysitting her?!”

“H-Huh??” you squeak out, taking a step backwards. “What are you talking about?”

“You told her to fight kids at school?!” she snarls at you, and your eyes widen.

“What?” you say, your face twisting with confusion, “I–...I never said that. I just said that she should stand up for herself if she needs to.”

Sana inhales deeply with rage, leaning back and jutting her hip out as she crosses her arms again. “Yeah, well, I had to pick her up early from school today because the principal called and told me she shoved a little girl on the playground during recess, and now she’s facing suspension.”

Gojo approaches suddenly from your periphery, standing in front of you as he faces Sana. You stand on your tiptoes to peer at her over his shoulder. “What? Why would Juno do something like that?

You hear Sana start to tap her foot impatiently against the hardwood floor, and then she turns her head away from Gojo as a slight hmph! noise leaves her throat. “The why is irrelevant.”

You poke your head out from behind Gojo and glare at her, but then Gojo turns around suddenly to look at you.

“y/n,” he says, “what’s going on?”

“I–” you start, glancing at Sana again who now has a solemn look on her face with pursed lips. You glance back at Gojo, who’s looking at you with confusion and anticipation. A heat spreads down your neck from the attention of the both of them on you, and you’re not sure what the smart thing to say is, so you figure you’ll just tell the truth as it is. “...I just didn’t want her getting bullied and thinking she can’t stick up for herself.”

At that, you see Gojo’s shoulders stiffen. “Bullied?” he repeats after you, then quickly turns towards Sana, “what does she mean, bullied? Juno’s getting bullied at school?”

Sana faces him full-on, raising a stern pointed finger between the two of them “No. Satoru. Stop. You always do this. This has nothing to do with you, so don’t even start. It’s not a big deal, let’s not make it one.”

“The fuck do you mean it’s not a big deal? She’s getting bullied at school, and you want her to just suck it up?” he asks, venom dripping from his tone. 

“It’s for her benefit!” Sana exclaims. “Jun and I have spent months trying to get her into this school! We don’t want her getting kicked out.”

“Y’know, I’m–” you stutter, “I’m gonna–...I’m just gonna go upstairs,” you say, “this seems like a family matter. I think you guys should probably just settle this on your ow–”

“No,” Gojo says, pointing to the couch that you were standing in front of, “sit down.”

You sit.

Gojo turns to face Sana again, and although you can’t see his face, you imagine he’s pissed off from the way Sana’s shoulders drop slightly and her sharp expression is cut into a more sheepish one.

“Who cares if Juno is suspended for sticking up for herself? It’s the teachers’ fault for not making sure she’s safe,” he says.

“Shoving other kids is not the solution.”

“Well if you fuck around, then you find out. Kids are too soft these days.”

“This is not the 90s, Satoru.”

You watch the back and forth between the two of them for the better part of an entire minute, feeling uneasy in the hostile environment of the room, but there’s a sense of underlying familiarity between the two, one that is recognizable amongst family. And you feel rather foreign, but then remember that, technically speaking, now that you’re married to Gojo, this is your family too.

Amongst the arguing of the adults, none of you noticed that Juno had gotten out of the car in the driveway and was now standing in the doorframe of the front entrance. She looks scared and guilty, fidgeting with her fingers in front of her, and you notice her scrapes and bruises that you tended to last week were now mostly healed. 

Gojo catches sight of her, and you see his shoulders relax. “Juno, c’mere.”

With the permission, she instantly runs towards him and into his arms from where he was crouched down to the floor in order to welcome her, and then she starts sobbing.

“I’m–hic,” she cries, “I’m so–hic–I’m so sowwyyy Uncle Toru…I’m–hic–I’m sorry mommyyyy.” 

You see Sana sigh and she makes a move to brush Juno’s tear-dampened hair out of her face when Gojo pulls her away from his shoulder by a delicate hold of her bony little shoulders.

“Juno. Listen. If people are being mean to you, then you do exactly as your auntie y/n said. You stand up for yourself. And if that doesn’t work, then you cuss at them and threaten to shove their faces into the dirt until they run away with their tails between their legs. Do you understand me?” Gojo tells her.

Sana gives you a pointed look.

“Oh, I–” you put your hands up in front of you, “I didn’t say any of that last part.”

“Do you understand me?” Gojo repeats again, and Juno nods her head slowly before she falls back into him and soaks his shirt with tears. “I’m soowwwwwyyyyyy.”

Gojo pats her back a few times to comfort her, and your heart breaks for the little girl. It’s bad enough to be bullied at school, but then to be reprimanded by your mother the one time you stand up for yourself…you can imagine how emotionally exhausting that would be for a five-year-old. 

Juno sniffles, rubbing her snot all over the cotton of Gojo’s shirt, and then pulls her face away to rub at her eye with a weakly closed fist. “I–hic–I just…I just wanted him to feel–hic–the same hurt.”

“Huh? Who?” Gojo asks.

“The boy,” Juno says, “the one that shoved me today.”

“It was a boy?!?!?!” Gojo yells. “Alright. That’s it. I’m grabbing my bat.”

“Satoru.” Sana deadpans.

Sana and Gojo continue to bicker about the ethics of threatening five-year-old boys with baseball bats, going back and forth about how Gojo wasn’t actually going to do anything but just wanted to instill fear (he’s lying), while Sana isn’t exactly sold on a single pacifist thing that he says, and you sigh, because you realize you’ve become invested in one of, what you feel like will become many, of their family quarrels.

Juno sneaks around Gojo’s legs and comes up to you while the arguing is taking place in the background, and she gently taps your knee as you’re seated on the couch. “Auntie y/n,” she whispers.

You rub an eye crustie from her face and then hold her hand in yours. “Yes?”

“Thank you.”

“Mm? For what?”

She smiles at you, her cheeks pink and flush from crying but rounded now in glee. “My mommy and daddy spoke a lot today at home for first time in long time because of me. Because I listen’ded to you. Thank you.”

Your eyes narrow. “What do you mean by that, sweetheart?”

Why wouldn’t Sana and Jun be on normal talking terms? What does Juno mean that it’s been a long time? What exactly was going on at home?

“Juno,” Sana’s voice interrupts your thoughts, her arms crossed across her chest, “c’mon. Let’s go.” She points a stern finger at Gojo. “Seriously. I mean it. No baseball bats or rodent traps involved. I’ll talk to the teachers and sort something out.” She glances at you, that strict look on her face now dissolving into one of pure exhaustion. One you can imagine only a mother can face. “See you later at dinner, you two.”

Juno runs up to her mom and grabs onto her outreached hand, and you see Gojo ruffle her hair as she walks past him, her giggles ringing in the air, and then he sees them out the door. 

The air is awkward, at least to you, the second he closes the door, and when he turns around to face you, your body stiffens up.

He leans back onto the front door, crossing his arms over his chest. “Thanks,” he says, “for telling Juno to stick up for herself.”

You blink at him. “Well. I don’t feel too great about it at the moment, to be honest.”

He sighs. “I just think that Jun and Sana are raising her to be…kinda meek. I wish they’d teach her to be more confident and take up space.”

“Mhm,” you nod. Because you agree. Little girls need to learn how to be that way at a young age, because the world is seldom very kind to them.

“Well, what you said to her is what I would’ve said to her anyways,” he says.

You roll your eyes, standing up from the couch and heading back into the kitchen to presume your work on your peach cobbler. “I never told her to shove kids’ faces into the dirt. But, uh, sure, I guess so.”

You see Gojo enter the kitchen too in your periphery, but you don’t give him any glance or look or attention. From what you can see as you stir around your macerated peaches in a Pyrex bowl, he’s leaning against the island counter about three feet away from you, his hands shoved in his pockets, and he’s watching you. A slight warmth radiates in your cheeks, but you attempt to ignore the nerves by being hypnotized by the pink syrup that pools at the bottom of the bowl.

My mommy and daddy spoke a lot today at home for first time in long time because of me. Because I listen’ded to you. Thank you.

An unsettling feeling takes over your senses. It could be the past few years you’ve spent walking on eggshells around your mother, or the way you’ve become so keen to her energy as a way of staying on top of any shift in her symptoms, any single sign of disease progression, any clue that she wasn’t getting better. Any clue that she wasn’t doing okay. And you feel a sense of dread, because that skill, you realize, has now made you aware of similar circumstances in the people around you.

Not to mention, you are a child of divorce. You know what that fear feels like.

You just want to know if Juno feels safe at home.

“Hey, um…” you start, turning slightly to finally face Gojo, your eyes hesitantly flickering up to meet his gaze, “when was the last time you saw your brother-in-law? And with Sana?”

He raises a brow at you. “I just saw them last weekend for one of Juno’s dance recitals.”

“Ah…I see,” you say. You purse your lips together. 

Right. Kids say things all the time. They believe in Santa Claus and think that blueberry pancakes are called blubbery pancakes. And they sometimes read too into things, and they sometimes read too little. Surely, things must be okay. Maybe Sana and Jun had had a little argument with some stubbornly thawing cold shoulders, a demeanor that was noticed by their child, and now things have resumed to normal. That was normal. Part of every family. “That’s good to know…” 

You turn away from Gojo to stare back down into the bowl of macerated peaches again. With a furrowed brow, you close your eyes tightly to try to shake the chilly feeling in your bones, and you feel better when you open them again. The slightly numb sensation in your hand dissipates and you have enough dexterity to mix the peaches around in the bowl.

“I wonder what news they want to share with us over dinner,” you say, to quell the awkward silence.

“Hm?” Gojo hums, and you see him turn around face the counter now, hovering over the bowl of raw crumble topping you had mixed together, prodding at it with the wooden spoon. “Oh, they’re moving.”

Your head snaps to look at him. “W-What?”

“Yeah,” he nonchalantly affirms, scooping up a spoonful of the crumble. “They wanted to up-size, and move a little closer to the school that Juno’s at. I found them a nice place about an hour from here on the outskirts of the city. They just signed the papers a couple weeks ago.” And then he shoves the spoon into his mouth.

“Oh…wow,” you say. “Okay…”

“Damn,” Gojo says with surprise laced in his tone, "this is really good.” He’s staring into the bowl in awe and then scoops up some more crumble with a spoon.

You blink at him, irritated that he’s eating all your ingredients without even asking, and before you’ve even finished your dessert. It’s like he was born to piss you off.

You walk up to him and yank the bowl away, “Gimme that.” Then you pull it into the divot of your waist possessively and glare at him. 

He sighs, and then says something out loud that you’re sure he meant to keep in his head:

“I’ll get used to it.”

.

.

.

[end of chapter 5]

a/n. it feels so strange to post such a short chapter bahaha hopefully the ending isn't too abrupt. but hope you enjoyed! i'm so sorry ab the slow burn in this series aaa but i can try to assure you that it'll all be worth it hopefully lol i'm really excited for what i have planned for this series!! alsooo sorry if there are errors or anything, i'm trying to spend less time editing since it really stalls me n leads to writer's block lol. hope to see you in the next one :) much love! - ellie

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[turquoizxe]

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲

Ekko x Fem!Reader

content ― arcane s2 spoilers!!, drabble/hc; fluff, some angst, Ekko is absolutely smitten for the reader, friends to lovers, suggestive *in very few areas

author's note ― there's not enough drabbles/fics for Ekko and its pissing me awf. I must intervene.

wc ― 0.974k

Ekko wasn't sure if he'd find anyone else after Jinx

He had no choice but to live without her, even after experiencing what could have been had things been different.

It ate at him, constantly, knowing what their lives could have been, but he loved his home enough to save it

After the Vigil, Ekko kept to himself for quite sometime

He remained with his Firelights, continuing to redevelop his haven after everything that occurred

Remaining occupied meant he didn't have enough time to sit and think about all that had unraveled the past few months

On the days he was left in solitude, he sketched and tried to remember the best parts, or how to move ahead

He'd reunite with Vi every now and again, but she was busy handling her own business with Caitlyn. The environment had changed, and it was hard to tell if it was for the best or the worst

He would travel to Piltover more frequently, but it was harder due to the memories it held, and he didn't see much of a point in staying outside of grabbing supplies

You met Ekko while on a supply run, stealing the last stock of bolts he needed. He was having an awful day when you ran into him, so his demeanor was one he wasn't sure he had in him

Despite this, you still offered to share your bolts, if he wasn't being an ass, and if he showed you what he was working on for him to be so frustrated with a stranger

He was careful not to yet invite you to the home that he shares with the Firelights

You were understanding of his skepticism and invited him to your workshop instead, just outside of Piltover, but not necessarily in the area of Zaun

The device he showed you felt far more valuable than what you had been working on. Despite its rickety condition, he spoke of it so passionately, and you could tell this craft was something he was passionate about

You invited him back, and you gave him the hours you would usually be here if he was ever comfortable returning

After your first encounter, you weren't sure if he'd be back, but it shockingly didn't take long for him to return

What became maybe once a week, turned to twice, and then frequent visits

You'd both would often go on runs together, and when Ekko wasn't with the Firelights, he found himself spending more time in Piltover, but mainly if you were involved in that exploration

The first night after you met, he didn't get much sleep. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had made him feel that way; It felt so instant, without hesitation or question

He would have called you an idiot for being so trusting to a stranger, but he felt like a fool for the emotions he was already experiencing.

It was hard for him to process how the chemistry you exude when together was automatic.

As time went on, he let his guard down around you, when he was around you, it all felt natural. A year had gone by without either of you noticing

The night, when the anniversary of the Mass Vigil was held, he stayed longer than you both had expected, a lingering tension between the two of you.

Even without talking, the lack of conversation made him feel vulnerable― susceptible to questions he wasn't sure if he was ready to answer yet

The wounds were still so fresh, you had half the mind to not ask if he knew anyone that was lost in the war, but before you could ask, he went off into the night, leaving you to wallow in your own thoughts

Weeks had passed since you had seen him

These days, you don't hear much from Ekko. And even when you mourned his lack of presence, it hadn't taken much time before it started to anger you

Ekko had realized long ago that he had feelings for you. He often fought the urge to be defenseless around those he cared for most. He wasn't sure if that was possible with you until it was

He was so enamored with you and never missed a moment to brag to his colleagues about your brilliance

You reminded him so much of her, and you deserved to be your own person in his eyes. He feared that if this went any further, he'd try to create comparisons that weren't fair to either of you.

The more time you spent apart, he spent more time admiring the distinctions. The emotions you evoked from him felt foreign. He couldn't place a finger on it, but he wanted to explore it further

More weeks had passed before he showed up at your workshop, knocking at your door instead of climbing through the window like he used to. The change in behaviors made you pout a bit more than what was already plastered on your face

Ekko had revealed his creation, the device he had been working on for weeks. The bolts you had landed him were engraved with your initials

You sat him down, spending time to catch up. While you wanted to be mad, you weren't sure if the feelings you were experiencing were even mutual, until he made riddance of your doubts

He didn't make it back to the Firelights that night, spending the night wrapped and reveling in passion that had been festering itself. You had never been this intimate, the night filled with nervous laughs and mistakes, but it made him feel human again

The walls he had worked to build had swiftly crumbled whenever you came into the picture

There wasn't a thing he wouldn't do for you, and he'd fight just as hard to save you

No matter the universe

― turquoizxe

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER TWELVE ━━ State Championship

☆ ━ pairing: hopkins!paige x oc (dani callan)

☆ ━ word count: 6.4K

☆ ━ warnings: underage drinking, smoking

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, take me to church masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: covid doesn’t exist in this fic yall. also… we only got like 2 maybe 3 more chapters left 😔😔 nearing the end

IT’S MARCH now, and Dani’s life feels as close to perfect as it ever has—though, like everything else in her world, it’s stitched together with careful seams, fragile and vulnerable to the wrong touch. She and Paige are inseparable, their relationship deepening with every stolen moment, every knowing glance, every night spent whispering beneath the glow of a shared secret. They’re in love, entirely and helplessly, in a way Dani never thought possible. They’ve built their own kind of sanctuary, a place where Dani doesn’t have to pretend, doesn’t have to hide, doesn’t have to pray for the version of herself she can’t force into existence. A place that’s home.

Her father is still blissfully ignorant. Somehow, he hasn’t pieced it together, hasn’t realized that the “Beau and Dani” façade is a flimsy excuse for Dani to avoid questions she can’t answer. All that matters is her dad hasn’t found out about Paige, and as long as Dani can keep it that way, she can hold onto this little slice of happiness a bit longer.

Her camera is still her refuge, the one place she can express everything she’s too scared to say. She photographs everything these days: the crackling electricity of Paige on the court, Thaliah and Jalen during their group hangouts, the fleeting, golden light of early spring as it kisses the Minnesota snow. Photography gives her purpose, and in a way, it’s her excuse to be near Paige without raising suspicion. At almost every game, Dani can be found on the sidelines, her lens trained on the girl she loves. Sometimes she’s there for the yearbook, sometimes just as a spectator, but she never misses an opportunity to catch Paige mid-layup, her form perfect, her expression fierce. Those photos always end up in a folder on Dani’s laptop, separate from the yearbook shots, and Dani finds herself scrolling through them late at night, smiling at the way Paige lights up the screen.

Dani’s friendships with Thaliah and Jalen are as strong as ever. The three of them and Paige have returned to normalcy, often found loitering at diners, driving aimlessly through town, or sprawled out in Thaliah’s basement watching movies and laughing about nothing. They’re her grounding force, her reminder that she’s not alone in navigating the chaos of being seventeen and confused about almost everything. Paige fits into their dynamic seamlessly, too, and on the rare occasion they’re all together, Dani feels like the world might actually be okay.

College acceptance letters have been rolling in, and Dani’s future is starting to take shape—though not without its complications. She’s been accepted into every school she applied to, but it’s her UConn acceptance that sends her heart racing. It’s not just the great program or the nearly full-ride scholarship they’ve offered her—it’s the fact that Paige will be there. That, for once, Dani might have a future that feels like hers, not one dictated by her father or her faith or the crushing weight of expectation. But she hasn’t told her dad yet. She can’t. He knows Paige is going to UConn, knows about her basketball career and the national attention it’s garnered, and Dani knows he’d connect the dots too easily. So she keeps it to herself, tucking the letter into the back of her desk drawer and avoiding the subject whenever college comes up at home.

Currently, Dani sits among Paige’s family, her camera resting untouched in her lap. It’s the state championship, and Hopkins is favored to take the title the second year in a row. The student section is a riot of blue, loud and chaotic, but Dani has chosen the quieter comfort of this row, surrounded by people who feel like home. Jalen and his family are nearby, and Paige’s parents and siblings flank her on either side, a reassuring presence amid the frenzy.

On Dani’s left, Drew is practically vibrating with excitement, barely able to stay seated. Every few seconds, he glances over at her, his words tumbling out in bursts. “Did you see Paigey’s spin move?”

“I saw it,” Dani says, a small smile tugging at her lips. “She’s locked in.”

Bob, seated next to Drew, leans forward slightly, his voice carrying over the noise. “She used to practice that on me at the park. Couldn’t guard her then, can’t guard her now.”

Dani chuckles, turning to meet Bob’s grin. There’s an ease to him that she’s always appreciated—an unspoken acceptance. Bob has known about her and Paige for as long as she can remember, and though they’ve never had a direct conversation about it, the way he treats her makes it clear he’s always been on their side.

On Dani’s right, Amy is a comforting presence, quieter than Bob but just as attentive. She’d driven all the way from Montana with Ryan and Lauren to see Paige play, and Dani’s heart had softened the moment the woman exclaimed when she saw her, immediately engulfing her in a hug after over a year without seeing one another. Amy’s kindness is effortless, and Dani feels it in every question she asks—about school, about Dani’s photography, about her plans for college.

In front of Dani, Lauren, restless as ever, leans back against the Callan girl’s legs, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her Hopkins sweatshirt. She twists her head around to look at Dani, her eyes wide.

“Paige is so fast. I wanna be that fast,” she says, her voice barely cutting through the noise of the arena.

Dani stifles a laugh, glancing down at her. “Paige’ll train you if you ask her,” she tells Lauren, messing with her hair a little.

Ryan laughs at his younger sister. “You’ll never be as fast as P, Laur.” Lauren doesn’t say anything, just hits him a little on the shoulder.

And, true to their words of Paige’s quickness, the girl threads a pass through traffic to set up her teammate for an easy layup. The crowd erupts, and Dani’s heart swells with pride, even as she tries to keep her face neutral. Paige’s brilliance on the court always manages to take Dani’s breath away. It’s not just the skill—it’s the way she moves, like the game is an extension of herself, as natural as breathing.

Amy leans closer to Dani during a brief timeout, her voice soft so as not to disturb the boys’ running commentary on the game. “She loves having you here,” she says, her eyes fixed on Paige. “Plays better when you’re watching.”

Dani swallows the lump forming in her throat, her gaze fixed on Paige. “She doesn’t need me for that,” she murmurs, trying to brush it off, but Amy gives her a knowing smile.

“Maybe not. But she lights up around you, Dani. Always has.”

The words lodge themselves in Dani’s chest, warming her from the inside out. It’s moments like this—Paige’s family’s unwavering support—that make her feel like maybe, just maybe, she and Paige could have something not just real, but something lasting.

The game resumes, and Hopkins builds their lead, point by point, until victory feels inevitable. Paige is everywhere—driving to the basket, setting up her teammates, sinking jump shots with a precision that seems almost effortless. She makes it look easy, but Dani knows better. She knows the hours Paige spends on this court, the bruises and exhaustion she never complains about. And so Dani can’t help but beam every time Paige does something spectacular, her pride radiating from her in waves. Drew nudges her arm every few seconds, practically yelling over the noise.

Lauren shifts again, this time pulling on Dani’s sleeve. “Do you think Paige will win?”

“She will,” Dani answers without hesitation. “She always does.”

The final minutes tick down, and the crowd is on its feet, the noise swelling to a deafening roar. Paige drives to the basket, weaving through defenders, sinking the ball cleanly through the net. Dani can barely hear herself think over the cheers, but she doesn’t care. Her eyes are locked on Paige, her heart pounding in sync with the rhythm of the game. Victory is so close she can taste it.

And, when the final buzzer echoes through the gym, the crowd erupts in cheers, Dani screaming her throat raw, her grin so wide it aches. Hopkins wins, as everyone knew they would. On the court, the team jumps and screams, a chaotic tangle of joy, and in the middle of it all is Paige—beaming, her face radiant in the bright lights. She’s never looked more alive.

Dani can’t take her eyes off her.

Spectators flood the court, and Dani moves with Paige’s family and Jalen’s, weaving through the chaos. When Paige spots them, her gaze locks on Dani first, as if the rest of the world has faded away. Without hesitation, Paige rushes to her, weaving past her teammates and friends.

Dani doesn’t have time to react before Paige’s arms wrap tightly around her, pulling her close. Paige hunches slightly, burying her face in Dani’s neck. Her body is damp with sweat, and she smells faintly of effort and adrenaline, but Dani doesn’t care. She wraps her arms around Paige, steadying her.

“I’m so proud of you, P,” Dani says softly, her voice steady despite the lump in her throat.

Paige doesn’t pull back. Her lips brush against Dani’s hair, and she whispers so only Dani can hear, her voice a quiet tremor of affection, “Thanks, baby.”

Dani closes her eyes briefly, savoring the moment. Around them, the chaos continues—teammates screaming, parents cheering—but it feels like they’re standing in a bubble, untouched by anything outside of this.

When Paige finally pulls away, her parents are watching with fond smiles. Amy steps forward, already reaching for Dani’s camera. “You two, hold still. Let me take a picture.”

Paige grins and slings an arm around Dani’s shoulders, pulling her close. Her other hand lifts the gold medal hanging around her neck, the metal catching the light. Dani mirrors her smile, her own arm draped loosely around Paige’s waist. They don’t need to pose—the happiness radiates naturally, their closeness effortless.

Amy pulls back, glancing at the camera’s screen. “Oh, this is a good one. Come look.”

Dani leans in to see, and her breath catches. The image captures everything—the joy in their faces, the warmth in Paige’s gaze, the way their bodies lean toward each other as if they’re two halves of the same whole.

Paige and Dani meet eyes, sharing a grin.

The moment is brief but perfect before Paige turns to scoop Lauren into her arms, spinning her little sister in a circle. Drew tugs on her jersey, demanding his turn, while Ryan just hugs at Paige’s waist, proud of his older sister. Paige laughs, pulling them all into a huddle.

Dani steps back, giving them space but staying close. She does what she does best, taking her camera from Amy and getting a few candid shots—Paige holding Lauren on her hip, Ryan clapping her on the back, Drew trying on her medal for size. Joy radiates through every frame, and Dani knows these moments will stick with her for the rest of her life.

The state championship trophy gleams in the background, but to Dani, the real victory is right here.

IT’S THE NEXT night, a Saturday, and the house feels a little emptier now. Paige’s mom, Amy, had left earlier that morning to drive back to Montana with Ryan and Lauren in tow, their visit too brief but nice. Paige’s dad, Bob, had also left with Drew, heading to Paige’s grandparents’ house for a sleepover. Dani knows Paige had been invited too, but she’d turned down the invitation with a practiced excuse. “I’ve gotta lock in on my homework,” she’d said, a perfectly reasonable answer now that basketball season was over.

Dani, however, knows better. Paige had needed her house empty for a party in celebration of her state championship win. It’s not every day you lead your team to a perfect season and cap it off with a trophy. If anyone deserved to celebrate, it was Paige, and she wasn’t about to let the night pass without doing exactly that.

Now, the house is quiet but charged with anticipation. Everyone else isn’t supposed to arrive until 8:30, but Dani, Thaliah, and Jalen had shown up early, their small group finding an easy rhythm on the couch in Paige’s living room. Music hums softly in the background, a playlist already on shuffle as the three settle in, waiting for the night to kick off.

Thaliah sits in the middle, her legs crossed, the bottle of Pink Whitney balanced on her knee as she grins at the others. “Pregame!” she announces, her voice bright as she pours the syrupy pink liquid into four cups she’s pulled from her bag. She slides one toward Jalen, one toward Paige, and one toward Dani.

Dani hesitates, glancing at the cup in front of her. She knows the routine well enough—this isn’t the first time they’ve started a night like this. But tonight, the idea of drinking, of letting her guard down even a little, makes her stomach twist.

She shakes her head, gently pushing the cup back toward Thaliah. “Nah, I’m good.”

Next to her, Paige straightens, her arm slipping from Dani’s shoulders as she turns to look at her fully. “Why?” she asks, her tone light but curious, her brows pulling together in that way they do when she doesn’t understand something.

Dani doesn’t meet her gaze right away. Instead, she glances at the bottle of Whitney, at the three cups still sitting on the table, and then back to Paige. The truth hovers on the tip of her tongue, too heavy to say aloud: My dad’s next door. If he hears this party, if he figures out I’m here, it’s over for me.

She needs to be sober in case something might happen.

But she doesn’t want to ruin Paige’s night—not when Paige is practically glowing, her excitement infectious, her smile impossible to dim. So, Dani shrugs, keeping her voice casual as she says, “I’m just not really in the mood.”

Paige narrows her eyes, clearly unconvinced. Dani sighs, then adds, “Besides, we both know how you’re gonna end up tonight, so someone’s gotta babysit you.”

That gets a reaction. Paige gasps, clutching at her chest like Dani’s just insulted her honor. “I don’t need babysitting. I am a perfectly responsible drunk.”

Dani doesn’t even need to respond. Thaliah and Jalen both exchange a look, their silence loud enough to say what they’re all thinking: Paige is not a responsible drunk.

“Fine,” Paige relents, leaning back into Dani’s side with a dramatic sigh. Her arm finds its way back around Dani’s shoulders, her fingers drumming lightly against Dani’s collarbone. “As long as it’s you babysitting me, then I guess I’ll survive.”

Dani hums, a quiet sound of acknowledgment, and watches as the others down their drinks in quick succession. Thaliah pours herself another almost immediately, the bottle already half-empty, while Jalen laughs at something on his phone.

Paige leans closer to Dani, her weight warm and familiar. “You sure?” she murmurs, quieter this time, like she’s still trying to figure Dani out.

“I’m sure,” Dani says, her tone firm but not unkind. She offers Paige a small smile, hoping it’s enough to keep her from asking again.

The clock ticks toward 8:30, and the energy in the room begins to shift. Thaliah’s already scrolling through her phone, checking who’s on their way, while Jalen adjusts the playlist, turning the volume up just a little. Paige doesn’t move from her spot next to Dani, her leg pressed against hers, her head tilting to rest briefly on Dani’s shoulder.

The first wave of people start filtering in just past 8:30, the quiet hum of the house replaced by the buzz of voices, the bass of the music turned up to match the growing energy.

It’s not just close friends who show up—there are teammates, classmates, random people from their grade, and even a few who Dani swears she’s never seen before. Paige doesn’t seem to mind; in fact, she thrives on it. By now, Paige is already tipsy—not slurring her words or stumbling, but the telltale signs are there. Her laugh is louder, her smile wider, and her touch more insistent.

Dani feels Paige’s hand on her arm before she even sees her. Paige leans into her, shoulder bumping hers, her other arm draped casually across Dani’s waist like it belongs there. “You good?” Paige asks, her voice warm and loose, her words just slightly stretched out by the alcohol.

Dani nods. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Paige grins, her fingers giving Dani’s side a small squeeze before she turns her attention to someone else who calls her name. Even as Paige moves to greet them, her hand doesn’t leave Dani’s waist, her thumb brushing absentmindedly against the fabric of Dani’s shirt.

It’s not unusual for Paige to be affectionate, but the alcohol has made her even clingier than usual. Dani feels the weight of her touch constantly—Paige’s hand at her back, her arm slung over Dani’s shoulders, her knee pressing against Dani’s as they sit on the couch. It’s both comforting and a little overwhelming, especially when the house starts to fill with more and more people.

Eventually, Dani manages to slip away. Paige is busy chatting with Jalen and a couple guys on his team, and Dani uses the distraction to excuse herself, heading toward the bathroom for a moment of quiet.

When she emerges, the noise hits her again—laughter and music and the occasional sound of someone yelling in victory or frustration. Dani spots Thaliah near the kitchen and makes her way over, grateful for the familiar face.

Thaliah grins when she sees her, holding up a drink. “Surviving?”

“Barely,” Dani jokes, though there’s some truth to it. She’s still nervous about her dad, what probably won’t—but could—happen, a pit in her stomach.

She and Thaliah end up standing together near the makeshift beer pong table in the dining room, watching as Paige and Jalen take on two of their classmates. Paige is a little unsteady but clearly having the time of her life, laughing and leaning against the table as she lines up her shots. She’s unsurprisingly good, sinking cup after cup while Jalen cheers her on. It’s not long before Thaliah’s getting bored of spectating, mumbling something about needing another drink and walking away.

When Paige and Jalen win, the aformentioned throws her hands up in triumph, her laugh echoing above the rest of the noise. “Let’s go!” she yells, her voice bright and slurred, and Jalen high-fives her enthusiastically.

Then Paige turns, her eyes scanning the room until they land on Dani. Her entire face lights up, and before Dani can brace herself, Paige is weaving through the crowd, heading straight for her.

“Did you see that, baby?” Paige exclaims, throwing an arm over Dani’s shoulder, her weight pressing into her side. Her lips brush against Dani’s cheek as she leans close, her breath warm against Dani’s ear. “I won!”

Dani can’t help but laugh, steadying Paige with a hand on her waist. “Yeah, you did, P. Nice job.”

Paige beams, her cheeks flushed, and leans into Dani even more, her head briefly resting against Dani’s shoulder. For a moment, they just stand there, Paige sipping from her cup while Dani tries not to think too hard about how Paige’s hand is now resting on her hip.

“Dan,” Paige says suddenly, her voice softer now, almost contemplative. “If you don’t wanna drink, that’s fine, but…” She pauses, fumbling with her pocket before pulling out a sleek vape pen. She holds it out to Dani, her grin lopsided and playful. “At least take a couple hits of this. You’re sooooo tense.”

Dani blinks, caught off guard. “I’m not tense.”

“Yes, you are,” Paige insists, nudging the pen closer to Dani. Her other arm tightens around Dani’s shoulders, as if to emphasize her point. “Come on, baby. Chill out, we’re supposed to be havin’ fun!”

Dani rolls her eyes, a small smile lifting her lips as she takes the pen from Paige’s hand. She supposes she is a little tense. “Fine,” she mutters, earning a victorious cheer from Paige.

She takes a couple hits, the smoke smooth and warm in her lungs. It’s not much, but it’s enough to take the edge off, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly.

When she glances at Paige, she finds her already staring, her gaze heavy and a little glazed over. Paige leans in closer, her eyes locked on Dani’s mouth as she exhales, the smoke curling between them.

“Gimme some,” Paige murmurs, her voice low and slightly rough.

Dani starts to hand her the pen, but Paige shakes her head, a drunken smirk tugging at her lips. “Uh-uh,” she says, her tone teasing as she nods toward Dani.

It takes Dani a second to understand, but when she does, her cheeks warm. Still, she doesn’t argue. She takes another hit, holding it briefly before leaning in, her lips just barely brushing Paige’s as she exhales, the smoke passing between them.

The moment stretches, charged and intimate, and then Paige closes the distance, her lips soft and insistent against Dani’s. The kiss begins softly, almost tentative despite the alcohol in Paige’s system. Her lips are warm and slightly parted, brushing against Dani’s like a question she’s waiting for Dani to answer. Dani freezes for a moment, caught off guard, but then Paige presses closer, her hand cupping Dani’s cheek, and Dani lets herself fall into it.

Paige’s lips move against hers, slow and searching at first, but as the seconds stretch, the kiss deepens. There’s a quiet desperation in the way Paige tilts her head, her fingers sliding into Dani’s hair as if anchoring herself there. Her breath is warm and faintly sweet, carrying the tang of the vodka she’s been drinking, and it mixes with the sharp taste of smoke lingering on Dani’s lips.

Dani’s hand comes up instinctively, resting on Paige’s waist to steady her as she kisses back. Paige melts into the touch, leaning her entire body weight into Dani like she’s afraid to let go. Her other hand moves to Dani’s jaw, her thumb brushing over the edge of her cheekbone in a way that sends a shiver down Dani’s spine.

It’s messy, uncoordinated in the way that drunk kisses often are, but it’s also charged with a kind of raw emotion that makes Dani’s heart ache. Paige’s movements are eager and insistent, her lips sliding against Dani’s with just enough pressure to make Dani feel like she’s on the edge of something big, something she’s not sure she’s ready for.

Paige tilts her head again, deepening the kiss further. Her teeth catch lightly on Dani’s bottom lip, and Dani feels a quiet gasp leave her mouth, barely audible above the noise of the party. Paige takes the opportunity to slip her tongue past Dani’s lips, tasting her.

Dani doesn’t mean to respond so strongly, but her fingers tighten on Paige’s waist, pulling her closer until there’s no space left between them. Paige responds with a soft, almost needy sound, her nails lightly grazing the nape of Dani’s neck as she presses closer still.

The world around them blurs completely—Dani is vaguely aware of the music, the distant hum of voices, but it all feels far away, like a dream she’s not ready to wake up from. All she can focus on is Paige: the warmth of her mouth, the way her breath hitches every time Dani kisses her back just a little harder, the way she clings to Dani like this kiss is the only thing keeping her grounded.

Paige pulls back just slightly, enough to breathe but not enough to break the moment. Her lips are red and slightly swollen, her breath shallow and unsteady as she whispers, “God, Dani…”

Her forehead rests against Dani’s for a beat, her eyes fluttering open to meet Dani’s as she catches her breath. But then Paige is leaning back in, capturing Dani’s lips again with a hunger that takes Dani’s breath away. The kiss is deeper now, more urgent, and Dani finds herself gripping Paige’s waist harder, her other hand sliding up to rest against Paige’s back.

Paige’s fingers thread through Dani’s hair, tugging gently as she angles her head, and Dani feels her knees wobble slightly. Paige must notice, because she shifts, pressing Dani back against the wall for support without breaking the kiss. The cool surface against Dani’s back contrasts sharply with the heat radiating from Paige, grounding her even as the kiss makes her head spin.

Paige’s lips trail down Dani’s jawline, the kisses wet and clumsy but full of a drunken intensity that leaves Dani breathless. By the time Paige reaches her neck, her lips part, pressing open-mouthed kisses against the sensitive skin there, her breath warm and uneven. Dani feels herself shiver despite the heat radiating between their bodies, her hands reflexively gripping Paige’s hips to steady her.

Paige hums low in her throat, the sound almost like a purr, vibrating against Dani’s skin. “Dan,” she murmurs, her voice desperate and slurred, “need you so bad.”

Dani lets out a soft laugh, unable to hide her amusement at Paige’s sheer neediness. She tilts her head slightly, giving Paige a bit of space while teasing, “Uh-uh.”

Paige immediately protests, her lips brushing against Dani’s collarbone as she pulls back just enough to grumble, “Yes, huh.” Her voice is petulant, like a kid arguing over bedtime, and it’s so quintessentially Paige that Dani can’t help but chuckle again.

“P,” Dani says, still laughing softly, “you’re so drunk.”

Paige finally pulls back, her lips swollen and her cheeks flushed, and she pouts at Dani, her big blue eyes glassy with alcohol and indignation. “No, I’m not,” she insists, her tone petulant but her words slightly slurred, betraying the lie.

Dani raises a brow, smirking as she tucks a stray strand of Paige’s blonde hair behind her ear. “Yeah, babe, you are,” she says, her voice soft but firm. “And we aren’t doing anything here tonight.”

Paige groans dramatically, throwing her head back like Dani just told her Christmas was canceled. “You’re no fun,” she mumbles, before collapsing forward and leaning all of her weight into Dani.

Dani stumbles slightly, pressed fully against the wall as Paige rests her head against Dani’s shoulder, her arms wrapping loosely around Dani’s waist. Dani pats Paige on the back, still laughing at her dramatics. “You’ll survive.”

“No, I won’t,” Paige grumbles into Dani’s shoulder, her voice muffled and childlike. “You’re so mean.”

Dani shakes her head, her grin widening. “Yeah, yeah. I’m the meanest girlfriend in the world.” She shifts her weight, trying to stand upright despite Paige’s clinginess.

Paige nuzzles into Dani’s neck, her lips brushing her skin again, though it’s less intentional now and more out of sheer drunken affection. “Still love you, though,” Paige murmurs, her words slurred but earnest, and it makes Dani’s chest tighten in spite of herself.

“Love you too, P,” Dani says softly, smoothing a hand over Paige’s back. “Let’s go sit down, ‘kay?”

Paige groans again, half-protesting, but she doesn’t resist as Dani gently guides her toward the couch. She’s still clinging to Dani, her steps unsteady and her grip loose but insistent, and Dani knows it’s going to be a long night. But she doesn’t mind—not when it’s Paige. Never when it’s Paige.

Paige slumps against the couch cushions, her head lolling to one side, her legs sprawled out in a careless, almost exaggerated manspread that makes Dani roll her eyes, though she can’t suppress the small grin tugging at her lips. Paige looks completely gone—her eyelids heavy, her cheeks flushed, and her movements languid.

“I’m gonna get you some water,” Dani says, brushing her hand over Paige’s shoulder.

“Nooo,” Paige whines, her hand shooting out to grab at Dani’s wrist. It’s a clumsy effort, her fingers barely wrapping around Dani’s arm. “Don’t go.”

Dani lightly swats at Paige’s hand, shaking it off gently. “I’ll only be a second. Be patient.”

Paige groans, letting her head fall back against the couch dramatically, but her grip loosens. “Fine,” she mutters, dragging the word sulkily.

Dani steps away quickly, navigating through the still-buzzing crowd of teenagers in the house. Music thumps in the background, but it feels like white noise compared to the task at hand. She reaches the kitchen and pours a glass of water, the sound of liquid filling the cup drowned out by distant laughter and chatter. Dani moves fast, threading her way back to the couch.

When she returns, Paige is still slumped where Dani left her, looking half-asleep. Dani hands her the glass. “Here. Drink.”

Paige takes it reluctantly, holding the cup like it’s some kind of punishment, but she starts sipping. Her free hand tugs at Dani’s arm until Dani sits down beside her again, and Paige immediately leans into her, her weight warm and heavy against Dani’s side. Dani sighs, wrapping an arm loosely around Paige’s shoulders to keep her upright.

By now, it’s well past one in the morning, and the party has started to blur into a sluggish haze. Dani glances around the room, noting how many kids are still there, laughing, drinking, some making out in corners. It’s chaos, but a controlled kind—the kind Dani knows Paige thrives in, especially when she’s drunk and her walls are down.

Thaliah appears suddenly, stumbling over to them with a grin. She eyes the glass of water in Paige’s hand and giggles. “Mmm, good idea,” Thaliah slurs, nodding approvingly. “Sobering up so you can go drink more later. Maybe I’ll do that.”

Dani watches, wanting to bang her head against the wall as Paige’s eyes light up at Thaliah’s word. “That is a good idea—”

“No,” Dani cuts in sharply, shooting Thaliah—and then Paige—a pointed look. “No more drinking.”

Paige whines, turning her face toward Dani. “Why not?”

“Because you’re already—” Dani starts, but she doesn’t get to finish.

A shadow falls over them, and Dani’s heart drops. She looks up, and there he is. Bob Bueckers, standing in front of the couch, his face a mix of fury and disgust as he takes in the scene before him: his house packed with drunk teenagers, music blaring, solo cups that are undoubtedly filled with alcohol littering every surface. Clearly, he decided not to spend the night at his parent’s house with Drew.

Thaliah freezes, her eyes wide as she immediately begins tiptoeing away from the couch, leaving Dani and Paige to fend for themselves. Paige, still leaning heavily against Dani, looks up blearily, her expression slow to register what’s happening. When she finally recognizes her father, her reaction is painfully on-brand.

“Uh-oh,” she mumbles, blinking up at him with an almost childlike innocence.

Dani closes her eyes briefly, resisting the urge to facepalm. Paige’s drunken state is painfully obvious, and Dani already knows this is going to be a disaster.

“Uh-oh?” Bob repeats, his voice low and dangerous. Then, louder: “Uh-oh?”

Paige straightens slightly, though her movements are still slow and uncoordinated. She raises her hands in a sloppy gesture of surrender, smiling hazily. “It’s… it’s a party! We’re… ce-celebrating.”

Bob stares at her, his jaw tightening as his face flushes with barely contained anger. “A party?” he repeats, his voice sharp. “What the hell, Paige?”

Paige just shrugs, looking far too pleased with herself for someone caught red-handed. Dani feels like she might melt into the couch from secondhand embarrassment.

Bob doesn’t wait for an answer. He looks around the room, his voice booming as he yells, “The party’s over! Everyone out, right now! If you’re not gone in two minutes, I’m calling the cops!”

The reaction is immediate. Teenagers start scrambling for the exits, grabbing their coats, phones, and friends as they rush to leave. Dani watches the chaos unfold, spotting Thaliah and Jalen slipping out the front door together. She sighs, about to stand and leave too, assuming that Bob will want her out of the house as well.

But before she can move, Paige’s arms tighten around her waist.

“No!” Paige protests, pulling Dani back onto the couch with surprising strength for someone so drunk. Dani sighs again, her back stiff as Paige clings to her like a lifeline.

“Paige, let go,” Dani whispers, glancing nervously at Bob.

“No,” Paige mumbles, burying her face in Dani’s shoulder.

Bob, meanwhile, is still ushering the last of the partygoers out the door, his voice firm and unyielding. Once the house is empty, the silence feels deafening. It’s just the three of them now—Bob, Dani, and a very drunk Paige.

Dani swallows hard, her pulse thudding in her ears. She braces herself, waiting for Bob to unleash whatever wrath he’s been holding back. If she’s lucky, she’ll escape this with just a scolding. If she’s not… well, she doesn’t want to think about that. She really hopes he doesn’t end up hating her after this—he’s the closest thing she’s got when it comes to the good father figure department.

Paige, oblivious to the tension, tightens her hold on Dani and sighs happily. “Love you,” she mumbles into Dani’s shoulder, and Dani wants to disappear entirely.

Bob finally comes back over to stand before the two teenage girls on the couch, massaging his temple with the heel of his hand. Dani sits stiffly, her back ramrod straight and her knees pressed tightly together. Paige is draped against her side, unbothered by the tension crackling in the air, her head lolling lazily against Dani’s shoulder. Dani can feel the warmth of Paige’s skin through her sweatshirt, a stark contrast to the icy knot forming in her stomach.

Dani has never seen Bob angry before. He’s always been the calm dad, the fun one, the nice one. But there’s something in his posture now—the way his shoulders slump under an invisible weight—that reminds Dani of her own father. And if it’s anything like that, she’d prefer to run now.

But she doesn’t. Her legs feel glued to the couch, her posture rigid, fingers drumming anxiously in her lap. She fights the urge to bite her nails, her gaze darting nervously between Bob and the floor. The silence stretches on, unbearable, until Bob finally looks up.

His eyes flicker over Paige first, scanning her flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes, before shifting to Dani. His gaze lands on her like a weight, making her squirm despite herself.

“Are you sober?” Bob asks, his voice low and steady but with an edge of exhaustion.

Dani nods quickly, her throat too dry to speak. Before she can even think of a follow-up, Paige chimes in, her words slow and slurred. “She is,” Paige announces proudly, as if Dani’s sobriety is some kind of personal achievement. “Said she wanted to be reeeesponsible.” The word stretches out into a lazy drawl, and Dani winces.

Bob’s gaze sharpens as it shifts back to Paige. His jaw tightens, and when he speaks, his voice is harder now, disappointment cutting through every syllable. “I wish that responsibility would’ve reflected onto you.”

Paige shrugs one shoulder, an exaggerated, floppy movement. “Lighten up, Dad,” she mutters, reaching for the hem of Dani’s shirt and fiddling with it absentmindedly.

Bob doesn’t lighten up. Instead, he launches into a quiet but firm tirade, scolding Paige for the party, the drinking, the sheer lack of judgment. The words spill out like a steady stream, but Dani can tell they’re bouncing off Paige, who isn’t even trying to follow along. She’s too busy twisting the fabric of Dani’s shirt around her fingers, her head tilted back against the couch cushion like this is just another ordinary night.

Dani can’t take it anymore. She clears her throat, shifting forward on the couch as she tries to catch Bob’s attention. “We’re really sorry about all of this,” she says, before flickering her gaze over to Paige who looks like she couldn’t care less. “I’m really sorry about all of this. I shouldn’t have let her drink so much. I should’ve kept everyone else more in check since I was the sober one. I’m really sorry.”

Bob rubs his temple again, his eyes closing briefly as he exhales through his nose. “I appreciate that, Dani,” he says finally, his tone softening just a fraction. “I just—look, I think you should go home, okay?”

Dani’s stomach sinks. She knows it’s the right thing to do, knows she probably shouldn’t even be here right now. But guilt claws at her, and she can’t help but offer, “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and help clean up? I don’t mind.”

Bob gives her a tight, strained smile, the kind that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He shakes his head, saying, “It’s okay. I—I gotta with her.” He gestures to Paige.

Dani nods again, swallowing the lump in her throat. She starts to shift away from Paige, untangling herself from her girlfriend’s grip, but Paige immediately grabs at her arm, her fingers curling tightly around Dani’s wrist.

“No,” Paige protests, her voice suddenly sharper, though still slurred. “Dad, she’s not leaving.”

Bob’s eyes narrow, his patience clearly wearing thin. “Yes, she is,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “No more arguments, Paige. I swear to God.”

The words hit Paige like a bucket of cold water. For a moment, she’s silent, blinking up at her dad with a look that’s almost confused. Dani uses the opportunity to slip out of her grasp, standing quickly and smoothing down the front of her sweatshirt.

She turns to Bob, her voice soft but earnest. “I’m sorry again for all of this, Mr. Bueckers.”

Bob’s expression softens slightly, and he gives her a small nod. “Thank you, Dani. And you know to call me Bob.”

Dani manages a faint smile, relief washing over her. At least he doesn’t hate her. She taps Paige gently on the shoulder—a silent goodbye—before turning and heading toward the door. Paige doesn’t say anything, just watches her leave with a glazed-over look in her eyes.

As Dani steps out into the night, the cool air hits her like a slap, and she pulls her jacket tighter around herself. She spares one last glance at the house before setting a quick pace to her own next door, needing to get out of the cold.

[olderthannetfic]

Feeling stupid because I had no idea deleting fic was such a no-no. I’ll re-read old stuff, dislike it, and pitch it. It’s like anything else I worked on, if I’m no longer happy I don’t see a reason to keep it around. Maybe I’ll work on it again for later but I really had no clue this was a problem.

--

Really? It didn't occur to you that somebody might have read it and then be like "Hey, where did that thing go?"

Hasn't it ever annoyed you when you remember reading some book or blog post or something, but you just can't find it again? It doesn't even have to be about something you loved: it can just be that nagging question of whether such-and-such is how you remembered it, and now you'll never be able to check.

--

On a more personal level for an artist, people do often regret not saving their early work, but they regret it years later. In the middle, yeah, there's often a "Oh, this sucks now" period.

[sansaorgana]

— FOREVER BOUND

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!Maia!Reader

SUMMARY — You and Mairon were created together by Eru and ever since you remained nearly inseparable. He chose to follow Melkor but you stayed loyal to your gods. Even though he was believed to be slain, you meet your soulmate once again many years later in Númenor where you serve the Valar by helping Tar-Míriel with your counsel.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — I started writing this fic like two weeks ago but I got distracted in the meantime with different ideas 🤧 (Y/N) is used here as the Reader's "real" name, therefore I gave her human form in Númenor a name and that is Maneth, which apparently means Departed Spirit. The dynamic between Sauron and the Reader is lowkey inspired by that quote from Wuthering Heights – He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same. Also, I was very fixated on making the short prologue of this fic sound like it was taken from The Silmarillion but it was a challenge, especially when English is not my first language, so yeah, I have to admit I used "the chat" a bit to help me in the beginning (and only there) 🙈. It didn't write even a single sentence for me, though, it only helped me with reshaping the phrases to sound more like the way I wanted them to be. I have never used AI to help me write my fics, so I feel a bit weird with it but I think the prologue sounds great now, so I decided to keep it this way. However, I wanted to admit to it here because I would feel bad otherwise. Once more – "the chat" did not write even a single sentence for me. I only needed its help with finding better sounding phrases to express what I have already written all by myself and it was only for the short prologue of the story. I didn't put any warnings but I think that – if you squint – it can have a bit of a twincest vibe...? 😳 At least I thought so while writing some scenes but maybe it's just my messed up mind going into such places 🙈 The fic is quite long but I didn't want to divide this one into two parts.

WORD COUNT — 7,930

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

FOREVER BOUND

Together were they fashioned by the thought of Eru Ilúvatar, Mairon and (Y/N), kindred spirits among the Maiar, and thus were their fates entwined. Mairon was drawn to Aulë the Smith, whose lore of crafting and forging he learned with eager mind, while (Y/N) was taken under the care of Varda Elentári, the Queen of Stars, and to her was revealed the mysteries of light and the heavens.

In those days of ancient bliss, when the first flowers were made to bloom, Mairon would gather their blossoms for (Y/N), and together they would abide for hours in fields unmarred by shadow. Often, he would craft jewels of wondrous beauty, offering them to her in token of his affection. Yet his most treasured gift to her was a ring, fair and unmarred, crafted in the purity of his early days, before his spirit turned to darker counsel.

It is said that (Y/N) wore that ring ever upon her hand, and that when Varda revealed to her the art of setting stars in the firmament, she bestowed the first star of her own making with the name «Mairon», that his light might endure forever.

In the later days, when Mairon fell to the shadow and allied himself with Melkor, he sought ever to draw (Y/N) to his side, weaving words of guile and repentance. Many times did he deceive her, and she, moved by their bond, hoped he might yet be redeemed. Yet she held fast to the Valar, and her faith remained unbroken.

Mairon's descent brought sorrow unending to (Y/N), and often she pleaded with the Valar to grant him mercy. Yet Varda would have her no longer as a disciple, for the brightness of her spirit had dimmed, and her heart clung still to one who had been corrupted. Then Nienna, She Who Weeps, took pity upon (Y/N) and took her into her care, teaching her of endurance and grief. And it was Nienna who spoke in favour of Mairon when Melkor, feigning humility, sought pardon from the Valar, for she understood well the love that bound (Y/N) to him.

Yet no reunion came to pass, for Mairon fled from the wrath of the Valar, and he vanished into the shadows of the world, so that some claimed him slain. The star that bore his name faded from the heavens, and it is told that (Y/N) wept until her tears filled a lake in The Southlands, and thus was the dark and bitter Lake Núrnen brought into being, a testament to her sorrow.

You were sent to Númenor to aid the Queen Regent with your counsel. Míriel suspected that you were no ordinary human being but she knew better than to ask too many questions. Very quickly you were promoted in her council, which was visibly making Ar-Pharazôn uneasy and suspicious of you because you had shown up out of nowhere one day, posing to be a noble Lady from Middle-earth… but who truly knew where you were coming from? 

The fate of this beautiful island given to the ancestors of these people was uncertain, though. It was teetering between glory and ruin. You were there to make sure they would choose the right path when the time of difficult decisions would come.

When you heard that one of the captains brought a She-Elf to Númenor that he had found in an open sea, you knew immediately that it was no coincidence. It was surely the very beginning of something new. Something exciting and worrying, too.

The time you had already spent in Númenor was enough for you to fall in love with the island and its people. The Queen Regent was truly your friend and you hoped for nothing else but for this realm’s happiness.

You were standing next to Míriel when Captain Elendil walked two castaways inside the hall. She-Elf you recognised immediately because it was Lady Galadriel. She, however, could not recognise you because of your disguise. At the sight of a dirty, ragged common man walking beside her, you felt an odd shiver going down your spine.

You looked down, nervously, when he looked up to meet your gaze. Your fingers busied themselves with a ring that decorated your finger for long centuries now – it would never leave you, no matter what form you were in.

You could not understand why some random human was making you feel such odd sensations as if the air between you two vibrated and caused disruption inside the room.

“No one kneels in Númenor,” the Queen Regent announced to Lady Galadriel and her new friend when they attempted to do so.

Out of curiosity that you seemed not to be able to stop, you looked up again when the man did the same. Your eyes met and you could barely contain yourself because the soul trapped inside the form you were in was about to explode.

He was no ordinary human being and you wondered if Lady Galadriel knew about it.

Who could it be, though? The Valar would not send any help for you here without warning you beforehand. Even if they would, no other Maia was able to make you feel this extraordinary way. 

No other Maia except for one.

The fingers fidgeting with your ring squeezed it tighter at the memory of Mairon. He had been long gone now and all that seemed to be left of him was that ring. Not even his star shone bright in the night sky anymore.

The only part of Mairon that still remained was not that ring, though. It was you – he would forever live inside of you like you had lived inside of him and like part of you had died the day he had been slain.

“Speak, Elf. Name thyself,” Míriel ordered Lady Galadriel and Galadriel’s eyes found yours. She tilted her head but decided not to comment although now you were certain that she could sense what kind of spirit you were.

“Galadriel of the Noldor,” she introduced herself. “Daughter of the Golden House of Finarfin. Commander of the Northern Armies of High King Gil-Galad.”

The man she came with looked at her with furrowed brows before deciding to introduce himself as well.

“Halbrand,” he said. “Of The Southlands,” he added.

“A man and an Elf, together?” You asked as you approached the Queen Regent.

“Circumstances arose that–” The man named Halbrand began but Galadriel did not allow him to finish.

“We are companions by chance. Met on the open sea. Your captain here, delivered us from certain death,” she looked at Elendil. “All we ask is that Númenor continue his mercy and grant us ship’s passage to Middle-earth.”

The crowd gathered inside the hall began to chatter between each other. It was uncommon to see an Elf in Númenor these days and Galadriel was far from humble. Her demands were not making anyone here happy and you could sense that.

The only man whose aura you could not sense was him again – the filthy commoner.

Míriel exchanged a meaningful look with Ar-Pharazôn before her cousin spoke.

“It’s been generations since a ship of Númenor was permitted to make such a journey on an Elf’s behalf,” he told the Elf, harshly.

You wondered how Galadriel would accept the fact that here, in Númenor, she was not an authority to anyone and her presence was barely intimidating. You knew her heart was of a pure kind but it was no mystery amongst the Valar, the Maiar and the Elves that she also needed to be humbled very often but such occasions were quite rare.

“It is because of the Elves that you were given this island,” she reminded but such words only worsened her situation. “Surely you can spare a few planks and a rudder.”

Míriel looked behind to stare at your face, visibly searching for your counsel. You shook your head slightly to let her know that you did not think following Galadriel’s orders was a good idea. It did not escape Ar-Pharazôn’s eye as he shot you a deadly glance. He hated the influence you had over his cousin.

“Our ancestors were not given anything,” the Queen Regent smiled softly at Galadriel as she walked down the stairs to approach the Elf and her human companion. “They paid for this isle with the blood of their kin.”

“What the Elf means–” Halbrand tried to save the situation.

“Then if blood be the price of passage, I will pay it,” Galadriel interrupted him again and you sighed softly. “But one way or another, I will depart.”

One of your tasks in Númenor was to help rebuild the friendship between the humans of this island and the Elves. Lady Galadriel was definitely not helping you.

“I welcome you to try,” Míriel nodded.

“I have no need of your welcome,” Galadriel continued with her rude remarks and Halbrand looked at her with panic in his eyes before looking back at the guards by the doors.

“And you are quickly wearing out yours,” the Queen Regent warned Galadriel. “Guards,” she called for them.

“My friends!” Halbrand exclaimed, getting everyone’s attention and you despised it.

You despised it because your weak human form struggled once more to contain your trembling spirit. You were scared that you would be this island’s doom yourself any given moment if you suddenly erupted as if you were a volcano. Your fingers began to tremble and you lowered your gaze, pretending to be humble.

“It seems to me that our leaving presents some complications,” Halbrand pointed out. “Perhaps it’d be better if we stayed–”

“Stayed?!” Galadriel barked at him.

“Long enough, good Queen, to give you and your advisors adequate time to weigh our request,” he looked up at you.

You were holding your gaze lowered but you knew somehow that he was staring at you. You could feel his eyes piercing you through because the way he was staring was not of an ordinary kind. He was not glancing at your flesh but at your soul. You felt as if you were naked in front of him and as if there was nobody else inside this palace except for you two.

The ring around your finger seemed to get heavier all of the sudden as it reminded you one more about the only creature in this world who had known you so well and who could have made you feel similar.

“A few days, perhaps?” Halbrand looked back at Míriel and you sighed out of relief once you got free from his burning gaze.

The Queen Regent looked back at you once more and you looked up only slightly to nod at her. Ar-Pharazôn rolled his eyes but he did not disagree – at least not openly.

“Three days,” he ordered. “And the Elf is to be restricted to palace grounds.”

“I will not be made a prisoner!” Galadriel protested.

“I would sooner knee-cap a stallion than seek to imprison the mighty Commander of the Northern Armies,” Ar-Pharazôn answered ironically and the crowd laughed at her. “So, you shall be Númenor’s guest.”

You could feel the tension in the room slowly relaxing and you nodded at the Queen Regent before walking out in a hurry, feeling Halbrand’s eyes on you as you were walking out in a haste with your skirts gathered in your fists, rushing to your chambers to collect your chaotic thoughts.

You had a malicious feeling creeping up deep inside of you – no, not even a feeling. An odd, eerie certainty. And as much as you wished for it to not be true, you also wanted it to be and you felt guilty for experiencing such cursed yearning to see and touch him again. Your Mairon.

When you heard from your maid at the end of the day that the human named Halbrand ended up in jail already for starting a fight, you simply could not stop yourself from paying him a visit. You walked inside the prison area of the palace carefully as you moved quietly throughout the hall with your dress flowing behind you gently.

The man was sitting on the floor with his back leaning on the wall. He was smirking as he watched you with no reaction whatsoever. Once more you noticed that you could not sense his aura or predict his mood like you usually could with most creatures, even the noblest of the Elves.

“You are no human,” you stated as you stood right in front of his cell. Halbrand snorted at that and rolled his eyes. “Who are you?” You asked and he only shook his head.

You grabbed the bars and squeezed them tightly as the silence broke due to your ring clashing with the iron. The sound echoed and Halbrand turned his head around rapidly while he squinted his eyes at your ring.

“Are you him?” You asked, nearly desperately. “Are you my Mairon?”

Halbrand stood up finally and even though he seemed to be more serious now, he still had a playful smirk on his lips. He approached you with his arms crossed and you caught yourself staring at his tan, flexed muscles before you looked up to meet his sparkling eyes once more. Nothing but the iron bars between you two and it was you squeezing them tight although he was the imprisoned one.

“You would look like a crazy maniac if I was not,” he whispered, leaning in. He was so close that you could feel his warm breath on your face.

“You were supposed to be dead…” you whispered and closed your eyes, feeling warm tears streaming down your cheeks. You squeezed your fists even tighter around the bars as your whole soul vibrated throughout your human form.

“I am sorry to disappoint you,” Halbrand answered.

“Your star has faded away, I have cried so many tears, have been outcast by Varda because with you, some of my own light faded away, too,” you revealed in a trembling voice before opening your hazy and wet eyes. He was staring at you without playfulness now. “I know it would be better for this world if you stayed dead but I feel joy to be with you again,” you confessed.

His rough fingertips brushed the ring wrapped around your finger as he smiled sadly.

“This ring remains older than most creatures of this realm,” he pointed out.

“I have never taken it off, Mairon,” you assured him. “Nothing in this world is older than the bond between us.”

“That is quite blasphemous,” he smirked and you shook your head as you had no idea what to say to that. He was right – you should not claim such things, you were no god. But yet, whatever was between you and him – it felt so overwhelming, so overlooming. 

Your souls were entangled, made of the same stardust. You were the same spirit, the same heart, the same blood; only split in two forms and that was enough pain to be apart in that way. Spending centuries without him at all, thinking he was dead… It was like death itself.

But Mairon was back now and alongside him back was the part of you that had died with him.

“Will you tell them about me, (Y/N)?” He asked, quietly.

“I should, should I not? You are up to no good,” you sniffled your tears back and your eyes met his. You let go of the iron bars and extended your hands to cup his scratched cheeks. When you touched, you felt your whole body trembling, barely able to contain your spirit and your power.

“I am up to the greater good. You know that my path is the right one; it is the only path. My only goal is to heal,” he assured you and leaned in to place a soft kiss upon the palm of your hand as you gasped.

“Up to no good then,” you let out a small chuckle through your tears. You knew him enough already to know what it meant.

You wanted to get rid of the iron bars and to kiss him. His form differed from his previous one but it was never about his flesh – it was always about whatever it contained.

You had never really kissed, though. All those centuries you had spent with each other, you had spent it on yearning and gazing at yourselves, stealing soft pecks upon your cheeks or knuckles, giving each other gifts and talking sweet to one another.

Because you knew that the Maiar had not been created to love – not like this, at least. They had not been created to know the pleasures of the flesh or its desires. They had been created to serve the gods.

Perhaps something had gone wrong during the act of your creation. Perhaps it had not – perhaps it was that part of him living inside of you that craved to be close to him at all times just like the part of you living inside of him craved to be close to you.

“Join me, (Y/N), come with me, be my Queen,” Halbrand whispered and you froze, taking your hands away immediately.

“Not even half an hour I was given to enjoy your return for you are trying to deceive me once more,” you remarked, harshly.

He had been known to tease and tempt you countless of times but your soul remained pure no matter what.

“Melkor is no more. I am my own master now but I will never be whole without you by my side,” Halbrand was the one to wrap his hands around the iron bars now as he moved even closer while you took a step back. “Varda outcasted you? I will make sure no one in Middle-earth worships her no more for you will become their Queen of Light.”

“Revenge is not what I seek,” you shook your head. “Please, Mairon, your words are like daggers. I cannot handle them,” you turned your head around as more and more of your tears streamed down your cheeks.

“Refuse me as much as you like, (Y/N). A part of you lives inside of me and that is my lightness. A part of me lives inside of you and it is the part you consider rotten. Be careful, my dear, for the rot likes to spread,” Halbrand warned you although his voice remained sweet.

“I have never considered anything coming from you to be rotten,” you laid your eyes upon him again.

“Can you not see, my sweet? They keep us apart because together we would become so powerful that we could outcast the gods themselves,” Halbrand continued and his whisper caused a shiver to go down your spine. His words were wrong… So wrong. “Together, we could be anything we wanted. We could be forged into one flesh if we wished, forever bound.”

“If you cared so much about us being together, you would let me lure you back into the light instead of trying to tempt me to join you in darkness, Mairon,” you whispered in Quenya.

“It pains me when you keep insisting that my path is the darkness. Your blind obedience to our creators is much darker to me, my love,” he answered.

Perhaps you would go on like that – and knowing you two, you could do that for ages. But you were interrupted by Lady Galadriel, who looked you up and down with curiosity as she entered the prison.

“The most trusted advisor of the Queen Regent,” she greeted you, “but the least trusted one amongst her subjects. You come from Middle-earth, they say. A noble Lady. But I have never heard of you before,” Galadriel pointed out.

“Must Elves know all about human affairs?” You challenged her and she smiled, softly.

“Human? Yes,” Galadriel answered. “There are spirits, however, that remain out of our grasp. They are no gods but nearly like them. Sent to us by the Valar when we need aid,” she squinted her eyes.

“I shall remain out of your grasp then,” you nodded and she nodded back.

“What is going on?” Halbrand whined, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms again. Putting on an act of a common man in front of Galadriel and even though you knew you should scream into her face that he was the very darkness she had sworn to fight and defeat – you chose to stay silent. Perhaps he would redeem himself, perhaps he would realise that he might be given a second chance if only he decided to choose the right path this time.

Perhaps, before outing him to the outside world, you would try to fix his way of perceiving which path was the right one.

And you knew he had been given too many chances already but your heart would never give up on him. You would forever find excuses for him and try to make it right between you two.

“You…” Galadriel approached the iron bars as she smiled softly at Halbrand. “You do not belong on this island.”

“If there’s one of us that doesn’t belong here, Elf, it’s you,” Halbrand shook his head.

“I’m not so sure of that anymore,” Galadriel’s eyes sparkled as she briefly laid them upon you. “But one thing I am now certain. You are more than you claim,” she took a step further. “I found this in the Hall of Lore,” she handed Halbrand a scroll of paper that made you squint your eyes.

He took it, pretending to be unbothered. And when he opened it, you saw a heraldry drawing, suddenly realising he was wearing a pendant with the same mark. What was the game he was playing…?

“That’s funny. I found this on a dead man,” Halbrand winked at you before he looked at Galadriel with a smirk. “Thought the pattern suited me,” he added and sat down on a bench inside his cell.

Galadriel sighed and she glanced at you, as if she was expecting you to help her. You did not move an inch, however.

“Many ages ago, a man bearing that mark united the scattered tribes of the Southlands under one banner,” she told Halbrand. “The very banner that might unite them again today. Against the evil that now seeks to claim their lands. Your lands, Halbrand,” she emphasised and you sucked on the inside of your cheeks after realising what his clever scheme was. “Your people have no King for you are him,” Galadriel kept insisting.

Your Mairon, the great deceiver, knew very well that eagerly agreeing to all of this would not be as powerful as trying to pretend to be uninterested at first. Therefore, he looked away and chuckled.

“That’s an odd thing to say to a man in a cage,” he pointed out. 

“A cage you have landed in because you chafe under the rags of the common,” Galadriel claimed as she looked at you again. “My Lady, you must tell your Queen the truth.”

“No Elf will tell me what I must or I must not do,” you smirked as you shook your head at how arrogant she was. You had to play your role but even as your Maia self, you wanted to humble her. “I doubt one pendant proves this man’s heritage enough.”

“What about his testimony?” Galadriel was not giving up as she looked at Halbrand again. “The armour that ought to rest upon your shoulders weighs upon your soul, Halbrand.”

Long silence occurred, in which you were able to watch the master of deception performing his craft. The way he kept staring at the drawing, his face full of mixed emotions and confusion, guilt. The way he grabbed the pendant with his hands and brushed it gently with his fingertips. Everyone would believe him.

“Be careful, Elf,” he said eventually. “The heir to this mark is heir to more than just nobility,” Halbrand stood up to approach the iron bars. “For it was his ancestor who swore a blood oath to Morgoth,” he reminded her and you were in awe how he used the bits of dark truth about himself to toy with her and test the waters.

And how oblivious she was, how eager to keep following the scenario she had already prepared for this situation to go with in her head.

“I am not the hero you seek,” Halbrand shook his head.

Indeed, he was not.

“For it was my family that lost the war,” he added.

“And it was mine who started it,” Galadriel insisted. “Ours was no chance meeting,” she pointed out and looked at you again. “No fate, nor destiny, nor any other words men use to speak of the forces they lack the conviction to name. Ours was the work of something greater,” she smiled at you and you forced a smile back.

Was she thinking that it was you who caused this meeting? Gods, if she only knew…

“You must see it,” she looked back at Halbrand.

“All I see is an Elf who won’t put down her sword,” he remarked.

“Come with me to Middle-earth,” she leaned in to be closer to him and you felt an odd sting of pain inside of your heart. Was it jealousy that another woman dared to stand so close to your Mairon…? Most likely. “And together we will redeem both our bloodlines.”

“How?” Halbrand asked, looking at her intensely. “You’re stuck on this island and you’re still short an army,” he smirked.

“That is all about to change,” Galadriel smiled and turned around to walk away.

You glanced at the man one last time before hurrying after her.

“Lady Galadriel!” You called out her name once you were outside the prison.

“My Lady,” she turned around to face you and you nearly bumped into her. “I did not expect to encounter an emissary of the Valar in Númenor, I must admit,” she bowed her head slightly. “How should I address you?”

“Here, in Númenor, you must call me Lady Maneth. In Valinor you would know me as (Y/N),” you introduced yourself and Lady Galadriel’s eyes widened slightly.

“(Y/N)...” She breathed out. “You know more than anyone else how important my task is. We must stop the darkness from spreading,” she pleaded.

“No,” you shook your head. “You must stop pushing this man… Halbrand… Into whatever you are trying to push him into,” you scolded her.

“Do the Valar have different plans for him?” Galadriel wondered out loud.

“It is not about him,” you winced, not wanting to discuss Mairon any longer with her. “It is about you, Artanis. You are beginning to become the very darkness you swore once to destroy,” you warned her.

“What do you mean?” Galadriel furrowed her brow as she took a step back.

“It is still cheating when one betrays a cheater. It is still a theft when one steals from a thief. And it is still a murder when one kills a murderer. Because it is not the matter of whether one deserves it or not – it is a matter of the act itself being committed. Too many pure and good souls were lost to us, driven by the desire to do justice,” you lectured her and you could feel her anger and frustration rising, however she would never dare to lash out on an emissary of the gods.

“Pretty words, that is all you can offer, meanwhile people are dying,” she spat out.

“Do you truly care about them, Artanis, or is their suffering your excuse to pick up the sword once more?” You asked but she was walking away angrily already and all you could see was her back, disappearing in the darkness of the corridor ahead of you.

You turned around once more and sighed at the doors leading back to the prison. You decided to leave Halbrand alone for the night but you worried about what would happen next. If he was about to choose the wrong path again, you would have to reveal his true self to everyone and interfere with his scheme.

Hope was all you had as you fidgeted with the ring around your finger.

“The visions are back and worse than ever,” Míriel confessed to you. “I suspect that it all has something to do with the Elf,” she added as she was trying to read your face but you made sure not to reveal anything.

“I knew that people of Númenor despised her kin but I underestimated the delicacy of the situation,” you admitted as you moved closer to the Queen Regent. “This is beyond worrying. The future of Númenor depends on your relationship with others. It is no time to make enemies instead of friends,” you warned.

“It would be an easier task to convince them that the Elves are not our enemies if only Lady Galadriel was not so…” the Queen Regent sighed, looking for the right word.

“Insufferable?” You chuckled and she nodded with a smile. “Elves differ from humans. They are not raised to be humble.”

“You know a lot about their kin,” Míriel pointed out, trying to make you confess who you truly were once more. She would never ask openly but sometimes she was teasing you this way.

“There are quite a few in the lands I come from,” you only answered.

“The lands you come from… Are they not The Southlands?” Míriel raised her eyebrows. “Like that human man?”

You took a deep breath in. If only you had known back then that your backstory would cause problems a few years later… But it was too late to change it because it would be highly suspicious.

“Yes,” you nodded. “But he is a commoner. I was a noble,” you added.

You were interrupted by Captain Elendil leading Lady Galadriel to you. She bowed her head slightly and exchanged a meaningful look with you.

“Lady Galadriel wishes for an audience,” Captain Elendil said and the Queen Regent nodded her head.

You stood still because these days she wanted you by her side always, no matter what. You did not even have to ask if you should leave or not.

“What is it?” Míriel asked when Galadriel stood on the other side of the table, facing you. She laid out two scrolls of paper in front of you – one was the same she had shown to Halbrand on the previous day and the other one was much more worn out and dirty.

“I found this in the Hall of Lore,” Galadriel informed the Queen Regent mysteriously and you allowed Míriel to see the items with her own eyes as you kept standing there with your hands clasped behind your back.

“You vex me, Elf,” Míriel looked up at Galadriel. “I welcome you as a guest and you gallop off to our countryside to steal ancient scrolls whilst your Southlander companion assaults our citizenry.”

“He is understandably quick to temper. His people are dying,” Galadriel explained.

“His people?” The Queen Regent asked, surprised.

“I believe the man you hold in your dungeons is no common brawler, but the lost heir in exile to the throne of The Southlands,” she revealed.

Míriel turned around to look at you and you raised your eyebrows slightly. You were not sure what to say to that. Should you help Mairon or interfere with his schemes? The answer was only easy for your mind but your heart wished to never cause him any trouble.

“Lady Maneth comes from The Southlands. She would know about that,” the Queen Regent informed Galadriel and the Elf looked at you, intensely.

“I cannot be sure,” you only said. “That there was a long gone line of Kings, I have known. That there are still their living descendants, I have not been aware of. That is not impossible, though,” you explained.

“His people are scattered. Leaderless,” Galadriel looked back at Míriel. “But with your backing they might unite behind his banner. And fight.”

How oblivious she was. His banner was nothing she would want to ever see floating in the air. His banner was nothing she would want to ever see people follow.

“What do you mean backing?” Míriel asked, taken aback by Galadriel’s proposal.

“Sauron was once your people’s enemy, as much as mine,” Galadriel reminded her and you moved uncomfortably. “I call on you to finish the task left undone.”

You might have hated this name more than he hated it. It brought you nothing but pain when others would address your Mairon this way – The Abhorred.

“I shall go,” you spoke, interrupting the tension between the two women. Míriel looked at you with a slight panic in her eyes because she did not want to be left alone with Galadriel but you simply could not stand being there anymore, hearing her talk about your Mairon. “I shall question that man, Halbrand. Mayhaps I will find out if he truly is what the Elf claims,” you said and Míriel nodded at you although you could sense she still felt uneasy to be left without your counsel.

You walked past Captain Elendil and went to the prison area of the palace like on the night before. Halbrand was sitting on the bench this time, with his back leaning on the iron bars. At the sound of your footsteps, he did not even flinch nor turned his head around. He did not have to. He knew it was you coming.

“Mairon…” You crouched down in front of his cell and wrapped your fingers around the bars. “Do not follow her, resist her temptation. Stay here with me.”

Halbrand turned around slowly with a playful smile on his lips as he looked down at you. You were not on your knees but it still seemed as if you were begging him.

“Stay here with you? Are you not a grand Lady on this island?” He asked.

“I can be anything I want and so can you,” you reminded him, your whisper was nearly inaudible but you did not need to speak your words out loud at all for him to hear them anyway. “We can live a lifetime here and then change our forms once more, start all over again. Over and over for the whole eternity. Far away from the rest. If I am to ever abandon my life alongside the gods, it will not be for your darkness… But it could be for this. For us.”

Halbrand stood up and the distance between you became even bigger now as he kept looking down at you with a hint of adoration mixed with pure contempt. He had to think you were pathetic and some part of him found it adorable but the other part found it embarrassing.

“It does not have to be Númenor,” you added. “We can go anywhere.”

“Let us go to The Southlands then,” Halbrand smirked. “Be the Queen alongside me.”

“You have made your decision then, I see,” you sighed and leaned in to press your forehead to the iron bars. “Will you ever love me enough to choose me over power?”

Halbrand did not like your choice of words as his eyes darkened. He crouched down as well, slowly, in a nearly threatening way. Now you were on his eye level as he looked intensely at you.

“Will you ever love me enough to choose me over your gods?” He asked.

The sound of footsteps made you stand up quickly and fix your dress. Halbrand also moved up and sat down on the bench. It was all done right in time because the guards walked inside the prison, dragging Lady Galadriel behind them. You watched with widened eyes as she was being thrown inside one of the cells.

“Don’t tell me,” Halbrand chuckled at her. “Tavern brawl?”

“Sedition,” she answered and Halbrand laughed as you gave her a scolding look.

When you joined Míriel again, she seemed to be lost in her own thoughts, staring outside the window. She turned her head around to smile at you gently and then she went back to staring ahead of her.

“And?” She asked.

“He asked for my hand,” you informed her with a playful smirk and the Queen Regent turned her head around once more to look at you with wide eyes.

“The audacity…” She sighed.

“Why?” You asked her with a soft smile.

“For a commoner to propose such a thing to a Lady like you… Even if it was only to jest–”

“It was not to jest, “you interrupted her. “If he is what Galadriel claims, then he would be my King,” you pointed out and an odd feeling filled your whole body when you called Mairon your King. A malicious one but also honey-like warm; sweetly spreading throughout your body.

“You are above human Kings, are you not, Lady Maneth?” Míriel raised an eyebrow at you. It was the very first time she asked such a thing so openly.

“I cannot answer that, my friend,” you smiled at her mysteriously, “but if he chooses to follow the path Lady Galadriel pushes him onto, I might have to follow him.”

“And abandon Númenor?” The Queen Regent asked. “Abandon me?”

“I am sorry,” you sighed. “Following him might be a task much more important than watching over this island,” you revealed to her.

Even though you were not given direct orders from the gods, it was obvious that watching over Mairon was more important because keeping his schemes under control would only profit in the end for everyone, including the people of Númenor. Míriel could not be told all the details, therefore she would never understand and she would feel abandoned by you. It was the price you had to pay.

It was an excuse, of course. Choosing to follow Mairon to Middle-earth to make sure he would not go back to his evil ways and that he would use the position Galadriel was giving him to do good instead… It was nothing but a noble excuse to simply explain the fact you wanted to follow him.

It was different now, though. It was not one of those times when he had begged you to come with him, straight to Morgoth. No, this time there was a string of hope that he would truly redeem himself. And of course he would have a bigger chance to do so with you by his side.

“It seems so important… Everything happening in Middle-earth. More important than I suspected. But if even you are willing to leave my side to go back there, it means there are things happening there that are much bigger than me,” Míriel said. “I must rethink Lady Galadriel’s words now then,” she informed you and walked past you to walk away. “Just like you must rethink Halbrand’s proposal.”

“Yes, I must,” you nodded at her and looked outside the window yourself. The sun was slowly setting and the view was beautiful – you wished it would forever be like this; so peaceful and calm with pink and orange hues.

Like back in the day when you had been sitting in the flower fields with Mairon, staring at the skies, your bodies filled with no malice – only pure yearning for one another.

The orange skies of the evening sky always reminded you of his ginger hair from back then and how you would brush it with your fingers, staring in awe at how the sunlight seemed to sparkle upon it.

You were standing by the guards’ side as you watched them open Halbrand’s cell. They nodded at him and he nodded back. The guards left you with him alone and an awkward silence occurred between you two.

“There, you have it your way,” you finally said, quietly.

“You must have missed me terribly,” he crossed his arms and chuckled but you did not want to laugh.

Your eyes filled with tears immediately at the mention of all those centuries you had spent thinking he was gone forever. You lifted your wet, glistening eyes to lay them on his and he clenched his jaw as he moved slightly while all playfulness left his expression.

“Do you know why I could not be killed?” Halbrand approached you to cup your chin and you shook your head. “Because of the part of me still living inside of you. As long as you are alive, I cannot be slain,” he explained. “However, the part of you that lives within me had to suffer for all those centuries alongside me and there is not a day passing when I do not regret causing you such pain.”

“Oh, Mairon…” You gasped and threw your arms around his neck to pull him closer and hug him.

However, he had something else on his mind. He blinked slowly a few times and cupped your cheeks now with his rough hands as he leaned in to join your lips together.

For the first time in your immortal life, you finally found out how sweet his lips were. And gods, how good they felt… How right. Your souls intertwined at that moment, every missing piece finding its place as if you were forged into one body.

“Before we were created, we had been a piece of stardust in the abyss and we had been one flesh then, of that I am sure,” Mairon whispered after breaking the kiss. “I should have kissed you much earlier, my love, for I have never felt so whole before.”

“No,” you shook your head. “I am glad you are kissing me only now,” you added and he raised an eyebrow at you. “For if you had kissed me like that back in the day, I would have followed you into corruption straight away. I would have worn black armour forged out of iron and I would have become Morgoth’s most zealous Lieutenant by your side – only to feel your lips on mine again,” you confessed.

Just when you finished voicing out your blasphemous feelings, Halbrand’s lips kissed you once more. This time he lowered his hands to intertwine your fingers with his. You felt him smirking when he felt the ring on your finger brushing his skin.

“Let us get married. Straight away,” he breathed out. “You are wearing my ring already. You have worn it for all eternity.”

“It would be only fair if you wore something from me as well. Something to mark you as my own like I am yours,” you pointed out.

“What would it be, my sweet?” Mairon caressed your cheek and you smirked at him a little before you reached out to the back of your neck.

You had prepared your gift for him this very morning when you already knew he would be released. There was a pendant around your neck, hidden under your dress. You took it off now and handed it to him as he slightly moved away at the sight of it.

It was a beautiful pendant surely although you made sure it would not look too feminine, so he would wear it at all times. However, what it contained inside was what truly intimidated him – it was a small portion of your light that you had sacrificed to lock in there. Wearing it could save his soul, of that you were sure. But in his eyes it surely was a form of imprisonment.

“Have you not sacrificed enough of your light for me already?” Mairon asked.

“Never enough. I shall sacrifice as much of it as I can to save you, my love,” you insisted and pushed the necklace into his open hand as you closed it around the pendant.

Mairon forced a smile as he swallowed thickly and opened his hand again to stare at the necklace before slowly putting it around his neck and hiding it under his tunic.

“Thank you,” he whispered in Quenya and you smiled back at him, encouragingly.

It had been ages since you last wore armour. Lately, the Valar had been using you more as a politician than a warrior but you still remembered the wars you had taken part of. Back then you had been on the opposite side of the field from Mairon but now you were by his side, riding your horse next to his as people of Númenor were throwing flowers at you. 

You took a deep breath in when it was time for you to jump off of your mare. What you were about to do would be equal to making a final decision about your fate – leaving Númenor meant forsaking the task that had been given to you by the Valar. However, you wanted to believe that they would value your new task even more; the one you had given to yourself. To watch over Mairon and make sure no one would know him as Sauron ever again.

He helped you to get on the ship and when you held his hand tight and he grinned at you, your heart filled with love and warmth. There was, however, a hint of worry because you knew what a skilled deceiver he could be. 

To become the King and Queen of The Southlands and to erase the darkness from that long-forsaken land was your shared goal now. Or so he had been promising you. To unite the tribes of that realm and to make sure they had a bright future. And once your mortal forms would become old enough, you would abandon or transform them to start a new life somewhere else. To heal more and more lands, more kins. 

You wanted to believe the healing would be done in the right and proper way this time because now he had you by his side.

Your new husband and an old companion smirked at you and squeezed your cheek playfully before turning around to join Captain Elendil to speak to him as the ships sailed out of the harbour. Lady Galadriel stood next to you instead and she glanced at you from the corner of her eye.

“I know it is not my right to ask about the ways of the Valar and the Maiar but why would a spirit like you marry a human and abandon the task originally given to her?” She raised an eyebrow at you.

“The road goes ever winding,” you answered her. “Not even the Valar or the Maiar can see all its paths.”

“Your devotion to this cause makes me believe I was right to fight so eagerly for this to happen,” she said and you smiled to yourself. She was so desperate.

“You are right, Artanis. It is not your right to know about the ways of my kind,” you patted her shoulder and gave her a faint smile as she nodded, staring into the horizon.

You looked there, too, but your mind was absent. You were scared and unsure – some part of you nearly wanted to be as blind as Lady Galadriel because she seemed to be so certain and fearless.

You turned around and realised that he was looking at you already. And at that moment, he looked like the Maia he had been created as – so pure with that wide smile and the sun shining behind him, creating a halo around his form. He looked handsome as ever in Númenorian armour, so different from the one he had been wearing as Morgoth’s Lieutenant. 

You gave him a wide smile back, so full of love and devotion. Perhaps his star would begin to shine in the night sky once more.

MASTERLIST

[violetasteracademic]

Rambling thoughts post. Won't delete.

I learned a long time ago to stop commenting on the state of the ship war/ SJM fandom as a whole and asking people to be kinder, and anyone who has followed me for a while (which sounds silly to say since I've only been here since March) has likely witnessed my slow disillusionment of the SJM fandom space. As my therapist said, if you keep trying to clean up debris in someone's house who refuses to fix their roof, you'll drain yourself for nothing. (That was about my ex husband but hey I think it applies here.) I've also realized that in the long run, individual creators don't matter, really. There are too many creators in this space who burn out and disappear and even if it upsets or disappoints people in the moment, there is always someone to replace them. I'm very replaceable. My thoughts really don't matter. But here they are anyway.

The SJM tumblr space is extremely hostile and negative. But it isn't all hostile and negative, and the more I filter out the shipwar content and anti content (seriously, I have filters on anti elriel, anti gwynriel, anti elucien, and shipwar buzzwords like delusional, reading comprehension, touch grass, ECT and thank you to my dear friend @yourstarsmyscars for showing me how much more the filters can do than I realized!) the more free I am to see how many kind and wonderful creators there are on here making cute art and amazing fanfics and nourishing a positive fandom ecosystem.

Again, I don't matter in the long run. I'm not sure how many people even still follow me really since I've stopped engaging in the shipwars beyond art, fics, and kind posts. But I do want to let anyone out there who, like me, has had their tolerance for the ship wars plummet to the core of the earth, break through the crust in the middle of the Pacific ocean, and then drift into space, know that there IS kindness in this fandom beyond the noise. There are people doing great work on all sides, who are welcoming to all, and just trying to create something people will enjoy.

I can't say I'll be here forever, or even much longer. But I feel moved to signal boost the positivity. I also know that, although I do believe I tried very hard to be positive and not insulting the majority of the time, I had days that I let the negativity get to me and I was snarkier than I wish I would have been. I'm truly sorry if I ever made a post that even remotely hurt anyone's feelings or added to the negativity. I'd go back and delete them, but frankly they are my most popular posts and still get reblogged so it feels sort of pointless since reblogs don't get deleted.

Although I am an Elriel in my heart of hearts, I want to continue to be a welcoming space for all. If that means my followers get cut in half or only a few people interact with my posts, that's okay with me. I can't try to patch the roof of the fandom, but I can keep my own space toasty and warm for anyone looking for reprieve, regardless of who you ship. I've stated multiple times here that I'm the only Elriel in my IRL friendships, and I love my friends dearly. I tried to speak to Tumblr as a whole the way I'd speak to them, and I didn't always do that. But the world is too abysmal and scary and a lot of SJM fans come online and struggle to find a space that isn't extremely hostile and negative.

Here's to all the goofy little spooks making art, fics, texts, and transcending the shipwars and just trying to connect over the things we love.

In the words of our Lord and Savior Taylor Swift, I want to be defined by the things I love, not the things I hate.

Also still committed to writing a banger Elain Lucien and Azriel throuple once I get through my laundry list of current fics. Maybe a quadruple with Gwyn. Maybe I'll just write a giant orgy, actually.

[whosthere54]

Ok ok ok Royal au Royal au ararararah

now to yap about my Royal au cause I’m normal. (Longer post- I just infodump about my AU basically-)

So what I have in drafts is all mainly brothers or prison duo centric, as if you know my fics I usually write from Icarus’s perspective on things. The main ships I would be focusing on are ghaae, nightingstar, Wolftross, and then prison duo- but I have cameos of all of the cannon ships of course. I’m gonna kind of just go through and explain roles of my main guys tho- so hope you like this as a sort of starting summary? I guess?

Icarus is the crown prince of the gilded kingdom. Basically the other full representative of the overworld who’s not Fable. Basically, they are heir to the throne, have to maintain a public image, help Fable out with royal duties and pretty much prepare to be the next monarch to ensure a smooth transition if “mortal king Fable” passes away. (He can’t die- I’ll get to that maybe- but yknow. God.)

I’ll talk about Isla and things later in this post, so I won’t mention it now- but yeah. Icarus is the only heir to the gilded kingdom.

Centross is Icarus’s bodyguard (yes I’m going down that road for the prison duo content. I’m so unpredictable /silly/sarc/lh) Royal guard? Close enough probably. Which- idk if I have to get into what he does. I think you can assume. Protection stuff. He was a former assassin, having used to work with Enderian. I’m doing a cliche maybe- but- yknow- he was sent to kill Icarus, ended up unable to do so… so now he’s a bodyguard for them instead of going back to Enderian. (There’s probably a promise of mutual protection somewhere- I’m sure Icarus would not have let Fable give them a bodyguard before then, and when he did they’d make it everyone’s problem- instead wanting to prove they could protect themself. There’s something there. Yeah.)

Wolftross is yes a thing, I think they were probably together for a while- maybe not long after he first became a royal guard. At Icarus’s request, he can visit Fenris whenever he wants probably. Easton replaces him when he’s gone (even after he became blind- at Icarus’s request he will continue that role. They trust him- and he’s capable.)

In the one thing I wrote, I gave him end features as well. I’m moreso debating on that- but I think it’d be a cool thing as a byproduct of being one of Enderian’s closest advisors and trusted assasin. Or- I give them to him later when he gets to be god. He gets them at some point- for me.

Rae is the crown prince of the end kingdom- full representative of the end that is not Enderian. I’d think she gives him more freedom than Icarus gets from fable, her being the end mother she is. She did have the same I guess cruel past that she does in cannon- I’m trying to figure out how I’m translating s1 into this AU still, and maybe you’ll get a oneshot of that eventually. Atleast the prison arc- of course. He left the gilded kingdom (either with Isla, or later on his own I have drafts for. But- probably with Isla) and lived with Isla for a bit- she runs for help from soul and things like in cannon and she helps hide them for a bit. Though- Isla ends up having Rae stay with Enderian. She probably stays as long as she can without compermising Rae’s safety, but maybe gets caught by Fable eventually.

Fenris is Rae’s bodyguard. He is a former general for the Nether’s army, just like in cannon. (I have to rewatch some of his lore before confidently talking about how he gets to become Rae’s bodyguard, so I’m sorry I won’t have too much info at the moment <3)

He becomes Rae’s bodyguard later- Enderian probably heard of his reputation as “the wolf” and hired him. (May try to include the wolf arc- but am again, trying to figure out how to integrate it.)

Now- basic plot summary? Something of the sort? Yeah. Some random details too cause I have no one train of thought ever and am just writing whatever I think of down. /lh

So for some backstory- Islas story is basically the same as in lore. But it changes for that bit after Rae was born just to adhere to the different circumstances Royal AU brings to the table. So, Rae grows a bit before Isla takes him and runs in this AU- he’s older, couldn’t tell you how old (age is a lie/silly/j) but just. A child. She notices how he’s being treated by Fable, takes him and leaves. She doesn’t take Icarus. There’s a lot of consideration for that fact- of course there is. Their her child. But- they’re not close, Fable makes sure of that. They spend most of their time with him, and their his heir after all. Their disappearance would be the worst to explain. So she doesn’t take them with her.

She takes Rae, and over the course of a few years- stays in a sort of safe house like in cannon, learns the things she does there, goes to soul for help, all that stuff. But she ends up taking Rae to Enderian, he becomes crown prince. She stays with them until it compromises Rae’s safety. Fable finds her, she doesn’t give away that she’d stayed with Enderian and that stays secret for a long time. Fable finds her, messes with her memories and things (he’s messed with Icarus’s too at this point- probably erasing Rae entirely) end she goes into a coma. He locks her away, Icarus doesn’t even know she’s here- and ends up having no memories of her anyways. Only fable knows where she’s locked away. Some tower in the castle sleeping beauty style probably.

Rae grows up in the end kingdom, Icarus grows up in the overworld.

Rae meets Caspian in the end prison- advocating for his freedom and things. He gets him a place in the end kingdom, and they get together at a peaceful festival in the overworld. That is an annual festival- Rae meets aax and takes her there too. He and Cas talk- and probably end up asking Aax out there too- making a whole day out of it probably. It’s a tradition for them, after all.

Aax lives with Cas, and Rae stays with them on weekends? Mayhaps? Something like that. He’s allowed to visit them whenever.

I like to think maybe Cas helps Athena and Bruin run the bakery on occasion. Bed and breakfast. Idk. Rae is definelty still the taste tester on Aax safe foods. And also a waiter on opening day for multiple reasons- one, it’s funny- two, yknow. Royal press. Media(?) purposes. Yknow what I mean hopefully.

Also- end kingdom I think had parts in the overworld and end? Like- overworld has the stronghold portal as the center and then made a kingdom around that, and then there’s an end part of the kingdom. This was probably a result of a peace treaty Isla had led years before between the realms after the war. Because badass mother deserves it. But to explain that- yeah. I think the Nether doesn’t- but has a trading hub spreading through portals and things. Yknow. Just not kingdom- I think the overworld is still more cold to people from the nether so. No kingdom. But portals can be made anywhere instead of having just one like the end, so that makes sense.

Gilded kingdom is just the biggest kingdom in the overworld areas we know- as Fable is the god of creation. I just have cool ideas for kingdom designs. May build them in Minecraft actually who knows- (if I do I will in fact post the pictures)

The Aether kingdom was a thing for souls and stuff as it was in cannon, but fell the same way. Alerion and Will live peacefully in one of the overworld kingdoms living normal lives away from everything, as they deserve.

A lot of the fable characters probably lives in the overworld, and just travel between realms.

Athena’s house probably has an area like his lab, where half is in the overworld and half is in the nether. If not, maybe their bed and breakfast- or atleast she has some nether bakery locations maybe with nether specific treats! Cause I think they deserve it and I just think it’d be cool.

Will has a cartographers shop in his village- like a cartographer villager type thing.

Rae has his archives he runs in his kingdom, there are two- one in the overworld part and one in the nether.

Starbarks definelty exists, does Fenris cannonly in this AU run all of the businesses he runs in actual cannon? Probably not. Do they exist? Probably.

Ven works as a close advisor for Fable, and Ari is hired as a knight or general of a sort for fable. Maybe more like a spy. Cat scratch records exist probably.

The world sisters do exist, most likely- (logistically if this was like a alternate “fable raises Icarus AU” they probably wouldn’t but I can do what I want and I say they’re here cause I love them- /silly)

Addie- Addie idk- maybe they work on like a night shift for the archives? Or like as an intern.

Ulysses- idk where to put Ulysses. Oh you silly fish man you. I will incorporate all the telchin stuff, definetly, I think just think of the cannon lore for that one.

Also- Quixis is there somewhere. Probably not in the same way for plot- but gotta include them in every au somehow /silly

Yeah. Royal AU. I’m eepy so I shut up- but hope you like my rambling ig idk-

I didn’t realize y’all enjoyed this au that much- I appreciate all the excitement about it /gen tehe <3

[lenaboskow]

PLS PLS PLS GET INTO HOW WOULD CHRIS REACT I find it so interesting, because most of the times is Chris just going "Great ! Im happy!" which valid, but honestly? I really like when it's more complex than that, like in the fic Pinky Promise by rainbow_nerds, that explores a bit the fact that Chris does in fact has abandoment issues, like I don't doubt that Chris (even angry) wants his dad to be happy, but c'moooon, his mother was his primary caretaker (because his dad left for the military, though it always hard for me to get the Diaz Timeline), then she left him, then she came back, then she died, his dad almost died at least twice (that he is aware of), Buck in the hospital, etc. Chris is going to have many complicated emotions ! I love him ! And I just wished people explored more all that potencial, you know?

i vividly remember making a diaz boys timeline back before the s7 finale but i just spent thirty minutes looking for it and i'm pretty sure i never posted it so... oops. maybe i'll make one later with the references but (apologies for the mess this is i tried to make it organized but i’m sick so there’s only so much i can do lmao):

when you look at it, buck has been consistently in christopher's life longer than shannon ever was, even if you restart after the lawsuit. shannon was him primary caregiver until he was about three, and then for a year it was eddieandshannon, after which she left. after that, it was consistently eddie. even if he wasn't around that often because he was working, he was still there, and that's what chris remembers. she came back for about half a year when he was seven, but then she died.

not counting the lawsuit, buck has been in christopher's life since he was eight. but the lawsuit wasn't that long, it was a few weeks at most, so the real answer is he's been in his life since he was seven. that's seven years at this point. to chris, buckandeddie has been a constant, more so than eddieandshannon, even if it's not the same type of partnership. and that's just a fact. sure, he'd known shannon for seven years, same as he's known buck, but technically she wasn't there for all of it. that's what he remembers.

but the same way eddie thought he needed to be with shannon romantically so as not to ruin the relationship, chris probably thinks eddie and buck need to keep the status quo not to ruin the relationship. especially when you take into his warped view of romantic relationships. shannon, ana, marisol, they all ended terribly for eddie. and buck? i'm not sure what he's told chris about his relationships, but he doesn't have a much better track record. abby ghosted him, ali left at the first sign of trouble, there was the whole jonah scenario with taylor (who actually was in christopher's life, so that definitely messed with chris a bit), tommy broke up with him seemingly out of nowhere...

it makes the most sense that chris wouldn't want them to date. if chris was home when they told him, i can imagine him calling pepa or carla, kind of a parallel to him running away to buck in s4 (which he can't do now for obvious reason). i don't think the arc would last long, i think whoever he ran to would start the conversation and tell him about an ex that they're still friends with, and then eddie would come to pick him up and they'd talk it out, there'd be a buckley-diaz scene, end of ep.

but if he was still in texas? he'd probably yell at them over the video call and then refuse to answer any calls or texts afterwards. buck and eddie would probably "break up" for an ep or two, and be absolutely miserable. this probably culminates in eddie taking a trip to texas (alone, maybe not even telling buck) and talking it out with chris, addressing their mutual fears about the relationship and eddie explaining that even if it doesn't work out, they'd still be friends, and even if that doesn't work out, buck would still be in his life, that it wouldn't be like when his mom left. there's definitely a video call to buck in this, after eddie and chris have talked their feelings out, and then chris would ask to come back home, effective immediately.

but there's also the question of how chris would react if eddie tells chris about his feelings for buck (pre-relationship). he'd probably tell eddie he can never act on it, then tell buck the same thing (without telling eddie) and then there's a few eps of buck and eddie acting distant from each other before chris snaps and says "you weren't supposed to act like you're already divorced!". of course that's if he's in la. if he's in texas it would probably play out the same way it would've if they were already together after they stopped avoiding each other and finally talked it out.

of course, they could go the easy route and have chris say "it's about time" but this is 911 we're talking about, they probably won't do that

[varpusvaras]

Fox stared at the screen.

"What is this?" He asked, and instantly regretted it when Even turned to him with a shocked expression on his little round face. There were many things he could take in life (being bred to be a soldier did that to a person) but having his own three-year-old being disappointed in him wasn't one of those.

"Buir!" Even puffed his cheeks. "It's the Spiky Guard!"

"Oh, okay", Fox said, even though he still had no idea what was going on with the talking, colorful cartoon massiffs on the screen in front of them.

Breha gave him a gentle pat on his thigh.

"It's a new children's cartoon", she explained, when Even had become engrossed with his screen again. "It's about a group of super massiffs who save citizens from silly dangers."

"Okay", Fox said again. Breha's eyes softened, and Fox felt a bit bad for the sad tinge that had appeared in them, even when he knew it wasn't his fault.

"Not too many shows for children shown on Kamino?" It was more of a statement than a question, even if she tried to soften it up by posing it as the latter.

"Not ones like these, and not for us", Fox said, quietly, so Even wouldn't hear, just in case, even though he looked like he was still completely immersed in what was going on the screen. Breha didn't say anything to that, only took his hand into hers, lightly running her thumb over his skin.

Fox wasn't really sure what he was looking at more. At his son, who was sitting there, without a worry in the world, watching a pink massiff operate a hand-glider, or at the pink massiff operating the hand-glider.

One thing was clear, though. He needed to show this to Hound.

[findafight]

Robin chose Steve. Robin made the conscious and deliberate decision that she could and would trust Steve. She already liked him! She had fun working and bantering with him! They were already on their way to being weird little bffs and the torture just expedited the process. Steve chose Robin just the same! He thinks she's fun and cool and likes her so much! He chose to be honest and open with her too, putting himself out there.

Even though their interests on the surface level don't match why wouldn't they share them? Steve clearly caves when Robin wants to watch a movie he doesn't think he'll like, Robin can watch a March madness game or five.

Stop trying to take away their bond oh my god people can be close to more than one person!!! Their best friend doesn't have to be dismissive or mean or whatever in order for a romance to be special to them!

[lunarharp]

What led to this (orufrey comic, cw an uncomfortable/creepy scene)

[withthewindinherfootsteps]

So we know that Wei Wuxian's treatment after his death was horrible. Even if nothing could impact him directly, there was still neverending slander, hatred, misinformation, theft...

But, for a while after he died, the sects did try to impact him directly – namely, frequently trying to resummon his soul. And today I'll explore the possible reasons for this, their likelihoods, and why I'm so, so thankful that Wei Wuxian's soul managed to resist the summons. Because, spoiler alert (or, you know. maybe not)... none of them are good.

(Long meta ahead)

In my opinion, there are four likely motivations for this: confinement, coercion, torment, and potentially destruction.

Out of all of these, confinement is probably the most likely motivation, at least for most sects (Jins and Jiangs excluded, though it was likely what the Jin sect said their motivations were – but I'll get to them later). This one is the most simple – we know spirit-trapping pouches exist, and we know the sects also placed 120 stone beasts on the Burial Mounds to prevent Wei Wuxian's soul from escaping. Therefore, this seems to be the most likely motivation – and fortunately for Wei Wuxian, probably also the best case scenario, though it still certainly isn't a good one.

For the second, coercion – this is where the Jin sect come in (more specifically Jin Guangshan with the help of Jin Guangyao). Due to their wealth and resources, they're likely the sect who played the largest role in the soul-summoning rituals. We know what they're willing to do to try to gain power – keeping Wen Ning under the pretence he was burned to death and trying to control him with the nails, and working with and helping Xue Yang torture people to help him refine his demonic cultivation, in order to have the Yin hufu fixed. Along with working with many other cultivators, alongside Xue Yang – Jin Guangshan really, really wanted that seal.

And so, Jin GuangShan sought after all those who imitated Wei WuXian in cultivating the ghostly path and gathered them under his rule. He spent a great amount of money and resources and these people, ordering them to study and analyze the structure of the Tiger Seal in secrecy so that they could replicate and restore it. - Villainous Friends extra, EXR

(Note that working with these cultivators very likely happened after Wei Wuxian's soul had failed to be summoned, since this happens some time after Wei Wuxian's death, whereas the soul-summoning ceromonies presumably started happening very close to it.)

In the previous paragraph, he's also quoted as having 'lusted after' the Yin hufu, which we already knew but it's nice to have a direct quote as evidence.

Now, would Wei WuXian willingly work with the Jin sect in doing this? No. We know that, and, given Wei Wuxian's actions in his first life (refusing to hand over the Tally, not being afraid to stand up to the sects, etc), I’m pretty sure Jin Guangshan knows that, too:

He beat around the bush a couple of times, using all his skills, yet Wei WuXian didn’t give in no matter what, and it made him run into a bunch of obstacles. - Villainous Friends extra, EXR

So this could actually make things go two ways. One, I'm wrong and that wasn't actually part of the Jin sect's motivations, since they know they wouldn't be able to control him (and in that case, had they managed to summon him, I could imagine them putting him in a spirit-trapping pouch and doing something similar to what Jin Guangyao did to Nie Mingjue's head. Which, also, not good). Two, it was a part of their motivations, and they hoped to find a way around that. After all, there are other guidao users out there now, and Wei Wuxian would now be a gui*. Also, cultivators can obviously harm ghosts – see the very existence of Night Hunts, and I'd include Xue Yang's talisman-caused destruction of A-Qing as well (while he isn't a traditional cultivator, talismans can be used by everyone).

Now, would either of these methods actually work? I'm inclined to think not really (and I expand on the former method in a note below). Would that stop Jin Guangshan/Jin Guangyao/the cultivators they employ from trying? Especially considering Jin Guangshan's lust for power?

I'm inclined to think no, too.

For the third, look no further than Jiang Cheng's reputation of capturing and torturing demonic cultivators after Wei Wuxian's death, due to thinking they could be him. And this does happen – Jin Ling knows and talks about it, and there's not real motivation for him to negatively lie about someone he loves. Also, when they come across each other at Dafan Mountain, we're told this in Jiang Cheng's inner voice:

A moment ago, Jiang Cheng was certain that this person was Wei WuXian, and all of the blood in his body started to boil. Yet, now, Zidian was clearly telling him that he wasn’t. Zidian definitely wouldn’t deceive him or make a mistake, so he quickly calmed himself and thought, this doesn’t mean anything. I should first find an excuse to take him back and use every possible method to get information out of him. It’s impossible for him to not confess anything or give himself away. I’ve done things like this in the past anyways. - MDZS Chapter 10, EXR translation

This mainly shows that he's tortured people before, rather than that he's tortured people because he thinks they're Wei Wuxian, but this reason is confirmed by Jin Ling in Chapter 24. Of course, the reason is also mentioned in this chapter, and there are other moments in the chapter that illustrate my point better**, but they come from second-hand sources which I know are easier to deny. Do take note of Jiang Cheng's expression both times he comes across 'Mo Xuanyu' (after he suspects he's Wei Wuxian) in Book One***, though:

After a moment, the corners of Jiang Cheng’s lips pulled into a twisted smile. His left hand started to unconsciously stroke the ring [Zidian] again. He spoke softly, “… Well, well. So you’re back?” - Chapter 10, EXR Although his face had always been clouded, marked with arrogance and satire, it seemed as if every corner of it had come alive. It was difficult to determine whether it was vengeful wrath, fathomless hatred, or raving ecstasy. - Chapter 23, EXR

This does seem to line up with what people say his attitude to Wei Wuxian is – there doesn't seem to be any happiness at seeing him again at all. The only time a word that could suggest that ('ecstasy') is used, it's accompanied by 'raving', and considering the context and the other possibilities of his expression, it's... probably not due to happiness at being reunited.

So, considering 1) this, 2) his contribution to the Siege specifically intended to kill Wei Wuxian, and 3) that at the time of frequent soul-summoning Jiang Yanli's death would be even closer for him, I feel pretty confident in saying that yes, this is likely a motivation for the Jiang sect in trying to re-summon Wei Wuxian's soul after his death. And, as mentioned earlier, cultivators can harm ghosts (and we know Zidian is able to remove souls posessing a body from that body, and that Jiang Cheng used Zidian on 'Mo Xuanyu' in Chapter 10. If it wasn't able to restrain/harm ghosts, or other methods weren't able to, why would he risk Wei Wuxian's soul escaping?).

And finally, option four: destruction. We're heading into much more speculative territory here, so don't consider this on par with the first three. But consider this:

We know there are some spells, like Xue Yang's talisman used on A-Qing and the body-offering ritual, that can ruin the returning soul’s reincarnation cycle by destroying it. Therefore, soul destruction is possible.

The 'main'/supposed reason for summoning Wei Wuxian's soul back is to stop the "cultivation world, or even all of mortal land" from being "faced with the most insane damnation and revenge, sinking into nothing but chaos and despair" when Wei Wuxian inevitably returns. While, as mentioned above, I severely doubt this is the motivation for certain sects – and to me is likely a rumour which the Jins (again, especially Jin Guangsha) fanned the flames of to justify summoning Wei Wuxian back for their own purposes**** – there are other sects which would take it more seriously.

Although likely disrespectful, people already thought it served Wei Wuxian right to die without his body intact by the time of the second siege – something believed to negatively affect your reincarnation in your next life*****. This is only the logical next step, and I'm pretty sure the vast majority of people would believe that, again, it would serve Wei Wuxian right, or would at least lead to less harm of the world in the long run.

For these reasons, I could definitely see this as an option for some sects, especially the sects who consider themselves more 'righteous' (cough cough the Nies under Nie Mingjue cough cough). After all, evil is evil and good is good, and the evil deserve what's coming to them. And what better way to prevent that than from preventing his soul from returning at all? So for the Nie sect – and likely some of the smaller sects involved in the Siege, since among them, additudes probably vary – yes, I do think it could be a motivation.

I’m not as sure about the Lans being willing to go this far, and that’s largely for two reasons. One, Lan Wangji’s presence and his relationship to Lan Xichen, who does (not always, but he does) let this affect how he treats Wei Wuxian. An example of this is that, when Wei Wuxian's return is made public, Lan Xichen does let him hide and shelter at the Cloud Recesses instead of trying to pursue him, likely majorly due to Lan Wangji. I'd argue that the aftermath of the Nightless City also acts as an example of this, although it definitely isn't perfect. But though he, Lan Qiren and the 33 elders do come to find Lan Wangji and do not let him continue to shelter Wei Wuxian (after they see Lan Wangji's feelings), Lan Xichen doesn't use this opportunity to kill/capture Wei Wuxian, despite Lan Wangji being in a worse condition due to having fought 33 elders, Wei Wuxian being catatonic, and Lan Qiren likely supporting this outcome (especially considering he was the one who led the Lan sect in the Siege – chapter 68, Wei Wuxian's POV). And he did let Lan Wangji take Wei Wuxian back to the Burial Mounds after:

After he went out of his way to send you back to Burial Mound and returned in such low spirits to receive his punishment, how long he kneeled before the Wall of Rules! - Chapter 99, EXR

Again, this was right after the Nightless City massacre – there isn't any goodwill towards Wei Wuxian at this point in time.

Of course, the Lan sect did participate in the siege after Lan Xichen knew of Lan Wangji's feelings towards Wei Wuxian, which Lan Xichen was no doubt a part of (although Lan Qiren lead the Lan sect in the siege, Lan XIchen had to have at least known/given his support, if not participated.) And it should be considered that Lan Xichen letting Wei Wuxian shelter at the Cloud Recesses was after Wei Wuxian had been back for a while, and had not caused the downfall of the Cultivation World, like many suspected he would after his death. And of course, as stated previously, his handling of the aftermath of Nightless City wasn't perfect either (though please note that his main motive here was to protect Lan Wangji from being potentially executed, rather than anything about Wei Wuxian himself). So caring about Lan Wangji doesn't mean he won't harm Wei Wuxian. But I do think he could find bringing Wei Wuxian's soul back to completely destroy it a bit excessive. There is, though, the chance that the elders of the Lan Sect would react to this differently, and of course they would have a sway on both Lan Xichen and the Lan sect as well.

The second reason is smaller, but there seems to be more focus in the Lan sect than in others when it comes to letting ghosts rest peacefully/helping them move on. And that could definitely lead to more resistance to the idea of summoning a soul back to destroy it as well, which could especially impact the elders. So I'd assume that the Lan sect would be the most likely sect to summon Wei Wuxian's soul back just for confinement, or just for some way of making sure any resentment is disippated, his spirit moves on, and he can't cause more harm to the world (eg via Inquiry)******. Not that he would or does as a ghost or as a reborn person, but that's unfortunately not relevant to this.

But yes, as a motivation for the Nie Mingjue-led Nie sect? Absolutely.

So, these are the main motives I suspect to be behind the attempted summoning of Wei Wuxian's soul after his death (and if I've missed any, please let me know – I'd love to have a discussion). And, of course, none of them lead to anywhere good. Because of course it wasn’t enough to besiege Wei Wuxian, murder the 50 non-combatants he was responsible for (and throwing them into the blood pit as a mark of disrespect because why not?), and lead to his death via him getting torn apart. It wasn’t enough to steal all his inventions, and use them commonly while still slandering him with no reprieve – or to steal his notes and give them to people like Xue Yang to study (Villainous Friends, again) and to use for their own, extremely extremely harmful, purposes. Of course, the cultivation world has to try to harm Wei Wuxian after death as well ((:

We don't know whether Wei Wuxian rejecting the summoning ceremonies was conscious or unconscious, but if it was the former, these are very likely reasons he refused to return in this way. If it was unconscious – for example, maybe during the frequent soul-summons his soul was in a weakened state due to him dying from a backlash of resentful energy and getting torn apart, and it healed over time but not before the soul-summoning rituals stopped – well, I can only be thankful.

Finally, let me leave you on the thought that – although it may well have happened since we don't spend much time in the immediate aftermath of the Sunshot campaign – there isn't even any textual mention of this happening to Wen Ruohan. Who, while not being a guidao user, was still very dangerous, still an extremely powerful cultivator, and still had a lot of reason to feel resentment. So.

:')

Thank you for reading!

--

*Considering what we see of how Wei Wuxian's guidao functions – redirecting the ghosts'/corpses' resentment into doing something they'd want to do, eg attacking people, and directing it towards a target – I'm not sure using it to force a spirit to do something 1) extremely specific, and 2) explicitly against their will would actually work. Iirc the closest thing we get to this in text is Wei Wuxian using the corpses of Wens to attack other Wens in the Sunshot Campaign, but he's still just directing their resentment to a target of his choice, and fierce corpses do tend to be on the less concious side of things (hence why Wei Wuxian had to awaken Wen Ning's consciousness). Considering how Wen Ning attacks Wei Wuxian and the Burial Mound Wens before his consciousness had fully awoken, I... really don't think those fierce corpses were able to differentiate (or didn't care).

Meanwhile, ghosts seem to be a bit more in control of themselves – see A-Qing, and Wei Wuxian's own descriptions of his ghost self.

That, alongside ghost!Wei Wuxian being able to resist his soul-summoning and the fact that pretty much all of the new guidao users are a lot weaker than he was, does make me think that this this wouldn't work. I do wonder about Xue Yang, since his methods are pretty different as well, but he's more of a modao user than a guidao user (he controls living corpses rather than dead people) and I don't think you can insert physical nails into ghosts?? Though if he was specifically instructed to figure out some way to control ghost!Wei Wuxian (who's probably kept in a spirit-trapping pouch in this scenario), he might be able to do something at least. Though also he was also struggling to piece Xiao Xingchen's ghost soul back together, so he may struggle with those areas?

Well, whatever the potential outcome, I'm so so happy once again that Wei Wuxian's soul managed to resist the soul-summonings...

**Mainly this:

Everyone in the cultivation world knew that the young leader of the Jiang Clan watched out for Wei WuXian in an almost crazed manner. He would rather catch the wrong person than let go of any possibility, and took anyone who seemed like they held the soul of Wei WuXian away to the YunmengJiang Sect, inflicting severe torture on his victim. If he wanted to take someone back, the opposition would surely lose half of their life. - Chapter 10, EXR

But I have heard people say 'you can't prove that it's just more rumours' before, and I wanted my evidence to be as watertight as possible.

(And, off-topic... isn't it really sad how Jiang Cheng, in the present day, is described as young? Because, for a clan leader, he is. And another thing he is, is close in age to Wei Wuxian – who was killed 13 whole years prior :') )

***And do note that the only other time they run into each other before Wei Wuxian's identity is revealed to the world apart from this is their brief interaction at Jinlintai, where he can't just act however he wants. The next time they run into each other after it, Jiang Cheng is literally taking part in another siege against him, and still extremely hostile ("surrounded by hostile energy, face insidious, staring straight at him" – from EXR chapter 60). Then he loses his spiritual powers and can't do anything. By the time he regains his powers, Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji and the Wen remnants' corpses have saved everyone during the Second Siege, and though public opinion hasn't properly shifted quite yet, it will soon after Sisi and Bicao tell the story of Jin Guangyao, and voila, a new scapegoat (do note that he doesn't completely bar Wei Wuxian from entering Lotus Pier after the Second Siege, though). Plus, throughout it all, Lan Wangji is still constantly present, which makes it hard for Jiang Cheng to really do anything. And then he's finally faced with the Golden Core reveal, which does alter his motivations towards Wei Wuxian (obviously the resentment is still there – read chapter 102 – but it's also mixed with other complex emotions, and he seems to start being able to move away from that a little in Chapter 103). I still definitely wouldn't describe Jiang Cheng's attitude towards him as positive, but it isn't at the point it was at the start of the novel (eg Chapter 10).

But even if his attitude does change, or would for whatever other reason apart from the reveal, that still doesn't change an initial motivation so isn't relevant to this meta. We know his intentions at the start.

****It's also possible they may have originated it, but I think WWX's reputation was bad enough for it to form naturally. Though you can trace a major part of that back to them, too.

*****That belief isn't outright stated in MDZS, but the fact people are specifically talking about the status of WWX's body in the aftermath of his death suggests that this belief does have some grounding in the MDZS universe, at least? And we know MXTX has included it in TGCF (though that doesn't mean it's definitely in MDZS), so she has used it in her works. If this isn't the case in the MDZS universe I am sorry (although that could also mean there's less importance placed on not disturbing the reincarnation cycle in the world of MDZS...? Which would work towards my original argument) – I don't want to spread misinformation that something is definitely true, I just think there's evidence to suggest it is true, which isn't the same thing.

******Again, I think this would depend on who ends up having more influence over who in the Lan sect. After all, normal resentful spirits only do what they do because of their resentment in death, whereas Wei Wuxian is 'dangerous' because of who everyone thinks he was in life – so him being reborn naturally could also 'cause a lot of harm to the world' during the time period this version of him would live in, unlike the resentful ghosts they appease. This could definitely lead to many advocating for confinement, I think.

[clenastia]

i dont know why the running joke of this chapter is kakashi fearing for his kidneys. where did that come from. WHY did that come from.

i should probably cut that in editing it's a little ridiculous.

except it makes me giggle every time so maybe i should leave it there.

[cerealmonster15]

i finally made a folder of my google docs re: twst fics/plannings and looking at the names are so fun bc a lot of them i didnt use the final fic name [if it got published] so sometimes it's just a placeholder [especially if it's just notes/ideas and not a fic] and some dont have a title at all and just auto used the first few words of the doc so i have like

i think only like 5ish of these have their ao3 titles on them / on two separate occasions i named an apple juice fic prompt doc the same thing except for literally just one has an extra ! and they were like 2 months apart......... i even checked bc i thought for some reason the doc duplicated themselves but no, those are just two completely different fics, they just both happened to be Apple Juice Kiss Prompts jvdjfdsljg i didnt do that w/any of the other kiss prompt docs but. whatever i guess!!

it's a fun guessing game on looking at the titles and trying to remember which ones they are. they date back to like 2021 when i moved from word docs to google so i could more easily share them with my friend since i wasnt really publishing anything at first lol.

[nettlestingsoup]

turns out i needed New Project Energy to get me out of the creative dip i've been in for the last week or so; forgive me, ongoing projects, for the 2500 words i now have of doctor who 2min

[foxgloveinspace]

Please always ramble in the tags 😭🫶🏼✨ reading tags are some of my favorite things, esp yours tbh

I hope your weekend was good dude! And I hope your migraine fucks off quicklyyy!

I’m trying to get some studying done today, it’s not working yet, but I’m trying!

PS link for your 14K FIC?!?! FUCKIN DUDE THATS AWESOME IM SO PROUD AND SO HAPPY FOR YOUUU!!!

@a-little-lynx

Good Luck Studying!! I hope you find your groove, and it goes really well!! This is my favorite rain noise video on youtube if you like those, I put it on when I need to drown out the rest of the world for reading, haha.

My migraine is already going away a bit, I turned off my headphones, even tho I was listening to The Summoning as a little, 'its been one year since i heard you' celebration, but I can do that later too.

I would link it, but its not posted yet🙇, I'm waiting till it's done before I post it, cause I have discovered through trial and error that that is best for me (*looks sadly at my now mostly abandoned Dune fic that I will finish one of these days but I don't know when it'll be.*)

I don't even know if I'm half way done with it even, I don't even know if I'm gonna post it as chapters? or post it as a really long one shot (but from what I hear, it's best to do it as chapters cause if you get passed 50k you can't edit it after posting, oof. I always forget tags). I think if i do, do chapters, I just finished the first one, haha. It's like, a dream come true though? cause SamTron/SamRinzler is one of my longest running ships (I'd go as far to call it my rare pair otp, haha) and Tron: Legacy is my favorite movie of all time, and I've wanted to write a long as fuck fic for them for years and years and years, so now that I'm finally doing it!!! Ugh. I'm just. so giddy about it, and I hope I am getting their characters right (even tho I've watched the movie about 50 times at this point and have the freaking.... script memorized at this point.) And!!! Yeah.... I'm so happy about it... I'm also being so so self indulgent with it (for me this means adding in little details that don't really matter, like the fact that Sam keeps body armor drinks in his fridge instead of like Gatorade, or that Quorra is a picky eater now that she can, ya know, actually taste things besides Energy on the Grid...... I am uhh, assuming you've watched Tron/Tron: Legacy Cass, if not its a-ok, I just realized some of this makes no since haha.) I am just.... really getting into it?

I'm also trying to keep the main plot under covers until I post it, cause I feel like the anticipation of keeping it sceret will motivate me to beign able to finish it!