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whitneywrites · 4 years

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Writing Guide 003 - Feelings

The following categories are included in this guide:

Words to describe positive feelings

Words to describe negative feelings

Positive Feelings:

accepting - regard favorably or with approval; welcome

admiration - respect and warm approval

affection - a gentle feeling of fondness or liking

altruism - a feeling or behavior that shows a desire to help other people and a lack of selfishness

amazed - greatly surprised; astonished

amusement - something that causes laughter or provides entertainment

appreciative - feeling or showing gratitude or pleasure

at ease - free from worry, awkwardness, or problems; relaxed

attraction - a quality or feature that evokes interest, liking, or desire

blissful - extremely happy; full of joy

bold - showing an ability to take risks

brave - ready to face and endure danger or pain; showing courage

calm - not showing or feeling nervousness, anger, or other strong emotions

cheerful - noticeably happy and optimistic

comfortable - providing physical ease and relaxation

confident - feeling or showing confidence in oneself; self-assured

content - in a state of peaceful happiness

courageous - not deterred by danger or pain

delighted - feeling or showing great pleasure

ecstatic - feeling or expressing overwhelming happiness or joyful excitement

elated - ecstatically happy

enraptured - give intense pleasure or joy to

euphoric - characterized by or feeling intense excitement and happiness

excited - very enthusiastic and eager

exhilarated - very happy, animated, or elated

exultant - triumphantly happy

exuberant - filled with or characterized by a lively energy and excitement

fascination - the power to fascinate someone; the quality of being fascinating

frisky - very playful or lively

generous - showing a readiness to give more of something

glad - pleased; delighted

gleeful - exuberantly or triumphantly joyful

goodwill - friendly, helpful, or cooperative feelings or attitude

gratitude - the quality of being thankful; readiness to show appreciation for and to return kindness

great - very good or satisfactory; excellent

happy - feeling or showing pleasure or contentment

hopeful - feeling or inspiring optimism

inspire - create (a feeling, especially a positive one) in a person

jaunty - having or expressing a lively, cheerful, and self-confident manner

jolly - happy and cheerful

jovial - characterized by good-humored cheerfulness and conviviality

joy - a feeling of great pleasure and happiness

jubilant - feeling or expressing great happiness and triumph

liberated - given liberty; freed; released

love - an intense feeling of deep affection

merry - cheerful and lively

mirthful - full of mirth; merry or amusing

optimistic - hopeful and confident about the future

overjoyed - extremely happy

passionate - showing or caused by strong feelings or a strong belief

peaceful - free from disturbance; tranquil

playful - full of play or fun

pleased - feeling or showing pleasure and satisfaction

provocative - arousing sexual desire or interest, especially deliberately

rapturous - characterized by, feeling, or expressing great pleasure or enthusiasm

reassured - to restore to assurance or confidence

relaxed - free from tension and anxiety; at ease

relief - a feeling of reassurance and relaxation following release from anxiety or distress

safe - free from harm or risk

satisfied - contented; pleased

serene - calm, peaceful, and untroubled; tranquil

surprised - feeling or showing surprise

sympathetic - feeling, showing, or expressing sympathy

tickled - cause (someone) amusement or pleasure

thrilled - cause (someone) to have a sudden feeling of excitement and pleasure

triumphant - feeling or expressing jubilation after having won a victory or mastered a difficulty

understanding - sympathetically aware of other people's feelings; tolerant and forgiving

victorious - having won a victory; triumphant

wonderful - inspiring delight, pleasure, or admiration; extremely good; marvelous

Negative Feelings:

agony - extreme physical or mental suffering

alone - feeling unhappy because of being separated from other people

anger - a strong feeling of annoyance, displeasure, or hostility

annoyed - slightly angry; irritated

anxious - experiencing worry, unease, or nervousness

ashamed - embarrassed or guilty because of one's actions, characteristics, or associations

bad - regretful, guilty, or ashamed about something

belittle - make (someone or something) seem unimportant.

betrayed - treacherously abandoned, deserted, or mistreated

bitter - unhappy and angry because of unfair treatment

boiling - (of a person or strong emotion) be stirred up or inflamed

cheated - deceive or trick

confused - unable to think clearly; bewildered

criticized - indicate the faults of (someone or something) in a disapproving way

cross - annoyed

degraded - treated or regarded with contempt or disrespect

demoralized - having lost confidence or hope; disheartened

depressed - in a state of general unhappiness or despondency.

despair - utter loss of hope

detest - dislike intensely

discouraged -having lost confidence or enthusiasm; disheartened

disgusted -feeling or expressing revulsion or strong disapproval

dissatisfied - not content or happy with something

distressed - suffering from anxiety, sorrow, or pain

doubtful - feeling uncertain about something

enraged - very angry; furious

embarrassed - feeling or showing embarrassment

fearful - feeling afraid; showing fear or anxiety

foolish - lacking good sense or judgment; unwise

frightened - afraid or anxious

frustrated - feeling or expressing distress and annoyance, especially because of inability to change or achieve something

fuming - feeling, showing, or expressing great anger

guilty - conscious of or affected by a feeling of guilt

hateful - arousing, deserving of, or filled with hatred

helpless - unable to help oneself; weak or dependent

hopeless - feeling or causing despair about something

hostile - unfriendly; antagonistic

humiliated - to make (someone) ashamed or embarrassed

hurt - feel mental pain or distress

incensed - very angry; enraged

indignant - feeling or showing anger or annoyance at what is perceived as unfair treatment

infuriated - make (someone) extremely angry and impatient

insecure - deficient in assurance : beset by fear and anxiety

insulted - speak to or treat with disrespect or scornful abuse

irritated - showing or feeling slight anger; annoyed

jealous - feeling or showing envy of someone or their achievements and advantages

left out - to feel that one is not included in something

lonely - sad because one has no friends or company

lost - very confused or insecure or in great difficulties

lousy - wretchedly bad; miserable

mad - very angry

miserable - wretchedly unhappy or uncomfortable

misunderstood - wrongly or imperfectly understood

numb - unable to think, feel, or respond normally

offended - resentful or annoyed, typically as a result of a perceived insult

overwhelmed - completely overcome or overpowered by thought or feeling

panicky - feeling or characterized by uncontrollable fear or anxiety

pathetic - arousing pity, especially through vulnerability or sadness

powerless - without ability, influence, or power

prideful - having an excessively high opinion of oneself

rejected - fail to show due affection or concern for (someone); rebuff

repulsed - cause (someone) to feel intense distaste and aversion

resentful - feeling or expressing bitterness or indignation at having been treated unfairly

scorned - feel or express contempt or derision for

screwed - in a difficult or hopeless situation; ruined or broken

sickened - make (someone) feel disgusted or appalled

small - insignificant; unimportant

suffocated - feeling trapped and oppressed

tense - causing or showing anxiety and nervousness

terrible - extremely or distressingly bad or serious

terrified - cause to feel extreme fear

tormented - experiencing or characterized by severe physical or mental suffering

uneasy - causing or feeling anxiety; troubled or uncomfortable

unloved - not loved

unwanted - not wanted or needed

upset - a state of being unhappy, disappointed, or worried

useless - not fulfilling or not expected to achieve the intended purpose or desired outcome

woeful - characterized by, expressive of, or causing sorrow or misery

worried - anxious or troubled about actual or potential problems

#writing guide #writing help #writing tips #writing advice #rp writing #vocabulary #rpt #rpc #writingguide003

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

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What would happen if Jiang Cheng found A-Yuan hiding in the tree stump at the Siege of the Burial Mounds and decided he's going to take in this toddler Wei Wuxian's was raising and raise him, in the memory of what WWX promised to be for JC?

sequel to this aka Delight in Misery (ao3)

“Sizhui?!” Jiang Cheng roared as he stormed into Lan Wangji’s room. “You named him Sizhui?”

Lan Wangji had already long ago become inured to Jiang Cheng’s huffing and puffing. Anyway, Jiang Cheng had medicine in his hands when he stormed in, which meant that he wasn’t bothered enough by it to come yell at him outside the usual time - and that meant that whatever it was, it was no big deal.

Accordingly, Lan Wangji didn’t give the yelling any more thought than it required, opting instead to turn onto his stomach in silent invitation.

Sure enough, Jiang Cheng came over to sit on the bed, grumbling the entire time he undid the bandages on Lan Wangji’s back and starting to spread the soothing balm onto the slowly healing wounds.

“I can’t believe you picked ‘Sizhui’ as a courtesy name for A-Yuan,” Jiang Cheng said, sounding thoroughly disgusted and more than a little disgruntled as well. His hands, however, were as gentle as his voice was harsh. “Sizhui. Was carving ‘Lan Wangji loves Wei Wuxian’ into the woodwork too subtle for you?”

Being face down made it easier for Lan Wangji to hide the way his lips twitched.

At first, he had been disturbed at the notion that his grief for Wei Wuxian’s loss – an endless well of despair, an injury that would never heal – might in some ways be balanced with instances of joy, and yet, in time, he had slowly come to accept it. After all, Wei Wuxian himself had never remembered pain for more than a moment; he would not have wanted Lan Wangji to deny himself the pleasures of A-Yuan’s cheerful presence, the peace of being surrounded by Wei Wuxian’s belongings, the amusement of Jiang Cheng’s sarcastic commentary that was so thoroughly ungracious it could only be laughed at.

The adjustment had not been easy. Lan Wangji was broken in both body and heart, lingering too longer in regrets of the past, while Jiang Cheng had walked a fine line on the verge of true madness, periods of calm interrupted suddenly by grief so intense it manifested as hysterical anger and furious lashing out, his own servants trembling to see it - it was only when Jin Ling had ended up with them, a safe haven for him in his younger years while Lanling Jin sorted out its own internal issues, that Jiang Cheng had started to calm down. His nights were still full of nightmares, brutal soul-shattering screaming ones that Lan Wangji suspected matched his own, but there were now entire days in which the man who kept him company (because apparently “seclusion” wasn’t considered a real word in Yunmeng Jiang, and “alone” was translated to mean “with me”) was a serious, earnest sect leader with a penchant for snide quips rather than the devastated wreckage of a human being he had met upon the Burial Mounds.

They had not been particularly close, before, and their personalities weren’t exactly compatible. And yet, to his surprise, Lan Wangji found that he didn’t miss the serenity of the Cloud Recesses as much as he thought he would, but rather appreciated the noise and clamor that Jiang Cheng brought into his life.

“ – like two drops of water, both of you,” Jiang Cheng was saying. “Sizhui and Rulan! These are people’s names! They’ll have to bear them their entire lives! Do you think when they’re adults they’re going to enjoy telling people, ‘oh, yes, well, you see, the people who named us had absolutely no sense of dignity or proportion, so –’”

“How is A-Ling?” Lan Wangji asked, feeling his ears go red. He had known about Jin Ling’s courtesy name since long ago, but he hadn’t known until Jiang Cheng had told him that the name had been bestowed by Wei Wuxian, or that Wei Wuxian had praised his sect and maybe even him in the naming – it sometimes made him wonder if his feelings, which he’d long believed to be unrequited, might not have been so hopeless after all.

That didn’t mean he wanted to talk about said feelings with Jiang Cheng, though.

Luckily, Jiang Cheng’s attention was very easy to divert when it came to his precious nephew. “Good! His teeth are finally coming out properly, so we won’t have to deal with all that wailing and gnawing anymore – I thought we’d have to lose A-Yuan’s fingers to all that biting before it ever happened –”

“I thought you told him to stop.”

“Of course I did. Did he listen? No. He just looked sad and obedient whenever I looked at him, and snuck his fingers into the crib whenever I didn’t – I should’ve gotten you to give him the order. He actually listens to you.”

Lan Wangji hummed in response, listening as Jiang Cheng continued in his usual manner to update him about the development of the children they were raising – teething for Jin Ling, Lan Yuan’s rapidly swelling waistline (he was almost recognizable as a child again instead of the pile of bones he’d been after he’d recovered from his fever) and the need to start him on physical conditioning soon, the investment of time and effort that all three of them were putting into trying to convince Jin Ling that his first word should be ‘jiujiu’ – and then, from there, about developments at the Lotus Pier more generally.

At first, Lan Wangji had thought there was a purpose to these updates, that he was meant to give some sort of advice as payment for taking up food and resources, but after a while he realized that Jiang Cheng just wanted someone to listen to him.

He didn’t seem to have anyone else that would.

“– finally finished the full set of docks, so maybe the fishermen will stop beating my ears in about it,” Jiang Cheng was saying. “And yes, damn you, your idea about opening up hotels was both very popular and very profitable – just goes to show that your Lan sect’s reputation for being above it all isn’t in any way justified, you lot make money better than the Jin sect…your brother came by again.”

Lan Wangji tensed.

“Stop that! Your back’s bad enough without adding knots to it.” Jiang Cheng pressed down on one of them purposefully: it hurt for a moment, and then released, and Lan Wangji involuntarily relaxed as the relief spread through him. Jiang Cheng either had a very good teacher in massage or a natural-born talent for it; Lan Wangji hadn’t yet figured out how to ask which it was. “He’s still looking for you, that’s all, and it’s starting to take a bit of a toll on him; he looks like he hasn’t slept in a while. I’m starting to almost feel bad about it.”

It was very classic Jiang Cheng, Lan Wangji had found, to orchestrate a punishment for someone and feel bad about it almost immediately thereafter. It was no wonder A-Yuan had him so thoroughly wrapped around his little finger.

“You can tell him, if you want,” Lan Wangji said reluctantly. Telling would mean seeing, and while he missed his brother very much, he was still very angry over everything that had happened. “I do not want the Lotus Pier to suffer for having harbored me.”

“Stop being so damned self-sacrificing,” Jiang Cheng said, and Lan Wangji wasn’t looking but he could hear him rolling his eyes. “I don’t care how much you enjoy it; I for one can’t stand it. Anyway, if my Jiang Sect can’t hold our heads up against another sect’s anger, we don’t deserve to be called a Great Sect. It’s like I told you: the moment he actually admits that you’re missing, rather than being all ambiguous and vague about it, I’ll tell him.”

Lan Wangji was secretly glad, even though he knew it was petty of him.

The thought of how frantic Lan Xichen must be after all these months, the idea of him not sleeping, of him travelling to all the sects to ask again and again if they’d seen him…the thought of it hurt, he didn’t deny it. But it didn’t hurt as much as finding out that Wei Wuxian had died with no one by his side – as finding out that his brother, who knew what Wei Wuxian meant to him, had known and deliberately omitted to tell him.

Just as Jiang Cheng was deliberately omitting to tell Lan Xichen the truth now.

“The sect would lose face,” he finally said, offering up an explanation for his brother’s actions, both then and now.

“Yeah, well, fuck your sect,” Jiang Cheng said. “I picked my sect over my family, too, and where did that leave me? Now it’s all I have left.”

His hands stilled for a moment.

“…except you and kids, I guess,” he said, sounding especially bitter about it in the sort of way that Lan Wangji had learned indicated that Jiang Cheng was having an attack of feelings and not particularly enjoying the experience. “You’re not that annoying.”

That was practically stating that Jiang Cheng would die without them.

“Mn,” Lan Wangji said, and after a moment Jiang Cheng continued rubbing in the salve. There was even a brief moment of silence, probably Jiang Cheng being thankful that Lan Wangji didn’t call him out on those feelings. Normally, Lan Wangji would just enjoy it, but… “You could have children of your own.”

Jiang Cheng choked, his hand slipping as he nearly fell over. “What?”

“Children,” Lan Wangji said. “You could marry.”

Not that marriage was a requirement for children, as Jin Guangshan continuously seemed to demonstrate – according to some of the gossip Jiang Cheng had recently reported, he’d recently brought another bastard son home.

“I’m trying, aren’t I?” Jiang Cheng asked, indignant. “I’ve gone on three matchmaking dates –”

Lan Wangji was well aware. He had been the one to whom Jiang Cheng had exaggeratedly complained after each one of those disastrous dates.

“Deliberate sabotage,” he said, because even without having left the four walls around him in months he could figure that much out. “Why?”

Jiang Cheng hesitated, then snorted. “Well, let’s hope not everyone’s as perceptive as you. It’s the agreement I made with the Jin sect to allow me to raise Jin Ling – no other children.”

Somehow, Lan Wangji hadn’t expected that.

He swallowed, his throat suddenly tight. He knew, of course, that there was nothing Jiang Cheng wouldn’t do for his last living blood relative, even risk having his Jiang sect turned into nothing more than an inheritance to be gobbled up by the Jin sect, but he hadn’t realized – that the Jin sect would take advantage of the grief and trauma that Jiang Cheng suffered, the same grief and trauma that he himself suffered from every day…

It made him taste bile.

“Though you’ve nearly screwed that up, you know,” Jiang Cheng said, sounding suddenly amused. “Back’s done, by the way.”

Lan Wangji sat up and turned his head to look at Jiang Cheng. “How?”

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. “Well, given your injuries, I’m the one out there teaching Lan Yuan all the basics, aren’t I? The Jiang sect hasn’t started accepting disciples that young yet, so he stands out. Everyone’s starting to say that he’s mine.”

“His surname is Lan.”

“And Wei Wuxian’s was Wei; that never stopped people from talking, did it?” Jiang Cheng scowled a little at the reminder he’d just given himself; as Lan Wangji had found out these past few months, Jiang Cheng was a master of the self-inflicted injury. “The latest I’ve heard is that I fell in love with some lady from the Lan sect who left her child with me when she died – honestly, it’s a bit sad that they can’t think of anything more interesting. Why would I be stupid enough to make the same mistakes as my father?”

Lan Wangji frowned. Jiang Cheng’s voice was shading near to actual pain, rather than his usual bark without a bite – he had let slip enough about his childhood for Lan Wangji to have figured out that the old jokes about the Jiang sect leader’s favoritism for Wei Wuxian were not jokes at all.

More like an old wound ripped open so many times that it would never heal.

It was no surprise, then, that it hurt him to be cast in the same role.

“You could always tell them that the lady still lives,” he said mildly, pretending his words weren’t hurting himself this time. Maybe Jiang Cheng had a point when he said that Lan Wangji enjoyed self-sacrifice. “Only that she’s ill, or in confinement, and cannot be seen.”

“Not a chance! Like I’d ever do something like that,” Jiang Cheng said, and Lan Wangji very briefly loved him for his immediate rejection of the idea. “Besides, if I say that, what do I do when you do come out of here and claim him? Everyone will think we’ve been sleeping together.”

Lan Wangji politely didn’t mention the occasional night that Jiang Cheng spent huddling by his side, wild-eyed, until the nightmares went away, or the way Jiang Cheng would occasionally lend a hand with certain physiological reactions that Lan Wangji could not bear to deal with himself, turning what might have been a trigger for self-hatred and near suicidal despair into a process as mundane as the baths he still needed help taking; neither of those were what was meant.

“No one would fear that you would have children if they thought you cut your sleeve,” he pointed out, not sure why he was pushing the issue. Even if people did say that, it was only rumors, after all, and temporary ones: when Lan Wangji could walk again, even the most pointed would swiftly fade in favor of ones that slandered Lan Wangji’s reputation instead.

“I’m still hoping to get married eventually,” Jiang Cheng said. “Just – after Jin Ling is an adult. Once he’s sect leader, he can release me from the promise I made. No harm done, assuming I don’t die first.”

Lan Wangji nodded. It made sense, though for some reason he felt some dissatisfaction.

“Though,” Jiang Cheng continued, looking thoughtful, “it might not be that bad an idea to spread some rumors. If I never commented on it, people would never know for sure if it was true or just slander by some dissatisfied female cultivator after one of my horrible matchmaking meetings.”

“It would still affect your reputation.”

“Like I care,” Jiang Cheng scoffed. “Let them talk! If anyone is stupid enough to think that the contents of my bed have any impact on my abilities, I still have Zidian to show them the error of their ways. And I will, too; don’t think I won’t!”

Lan Wangji abruptly felt lighter inside. Of course Jiang Cheng wouldn’t care; he hardly ever cared about anything other than his sect and the children – and anyway, just because Lan Wangji had never told Jiang Cheng directly how he felt about Wei Wuxian didn’t mean that he hadn’t guessed. He had given Lan Wangji Wei Wuxian’s bedroom, after all. “I would never be so foolish.”

Jiang Cheng huffed and tossed his head, then turned to say something that he promptly forgot in favor of gaping at him. “Hanguang-jun, what are you doing with your mouth?”

Lan Wangji allowed his smile to widen. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Stop it! It’s creepy! Go back to being humorless and dull this instant!”

“No.”

“This is my sect and you’re my guest; you have to do what I say.”

“No.”

“You’re worse than A-Yuan,” Jiang Cheng complained. “At least he pretends to listen. I’ll have to raise Jin Ling to be properly obedient.”

For some reason, Lan Wangji didn’t think he would have much luck with that.

#mdzs #jiang cheng #lan wangji #lan sizhui #jin ling #my fic #my fics #delight in misery #accidental life partner acquisition #lacommunarde

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daisies-write · 4 years

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And he said “nope” - Part 2

Deal with the Devil

Hisoka x weak!reader; soulmate AU

Ok so we decided to go with a light and fun story! I suppose it isn’t what’s expected of a Hisoka x reader but with Ari we had so much fun imagining different scenarios where both are forced to work together, it just started to take life on it’s own! I hope it won’t be disapointing for you and that you’ll like this serie as much as we do! @kuuredere

-Yasu

Previous chapter / Next chapter

TW: none

Writer: Both of us ! (Ari and Yasu)

Word count: 1965

This is how your "contract" began with Hisoka, with one simple deal: to continue with your life without being disturbing each other, as if you two never met. You would never work together anyway. You had morals and Hisoka was… Hisoka.

But strangely, since then your life had seemed to take an ominous decline and you were starting to wonder if the Universe had something to do with it. Too much had happened in too little time: losing your car, having your apartment infested with cockroaches, and finding out that your partner might be having an affair. Well… it couldn't be worse, after all.

" You are fired. "

Ah. It could, actually.

You were sitting on a bench somewhere in a park, with a big box full of your things lying at your feet, trying somehow to reach your partner on the phone. After the fifth call, you gave up. They must have been busy ...

You clapped your hands over your eyes, sighing loudly, twisting in your head everything you could do to find a job that paid as well as your last but there were very few options and the remaining ones didn't appeal to you one bit. You weren't desperate enough to striptease yet, that's for sure, and going back to babysitting was a big no.

"Maybe they were right in the end," you mumbled in your despair. “I'm not meant to be a Hunter and I'm not made for the big city.” A sad chuckle escaped your lips. “A real little peasant, haha. "

As if trying to mock you, the sun and the sky were extremely bright that day. Or maybe it was to support you...

" Well! I got this! I will not be discouraged for so little! "

You got up on your feet, determined, and then sat down again almost instantly.

"I have nowhere to sleep."

You expressed yourself with yet another long sigh. If only you hadn’t met this Hisoka, if only you hadn’t gone to see that damn battle at Heaven Arenas with your friends, if only you had said no, your life surely would have just as chill, like it used to. Seeing in color was fun but not necessary.

"I don't like pink," you thought as you saw a kid make a big bubble with his chewing gum.

"My, it looks like my kitten is doing badly ~," said a voice you recognized all too well.

Slowly turning your head to the side, you could finally confirm your fears: Hisoka was looking at you with a big smile, a hand on his cheek and mocking eyes.

"Hey, Satan," you answered instinctively.

He laughs at your words.

"I’m pretty sure I’m even worse, but thank you nonetheless."

“Go away. I don’t have time to mess with you. And like, don’t you have a fight today?”

Hisoka shrugged.

“The guy isn’t worth my time, that’s all.”

“So you thought about stalking me?”

“I thought about watching children play but I found you like you would find a wart,” he said nonchalantly.

You just started at him, genuinely creeped out.

“Get out of here, pedo.”

He laughed again.

“Make me.”

“The sexual innuendo of this sentence is way too big so you better stop using it unless if you want to bang me,” you said, unphased. “But there’s a hint: you ugly.”

“Wow!” Hisoka placed a hand to his heart, a pout on his face. “You didn’t seem quite so aggressive last time. Something bad happened?” His eyes found your box and his smirk came back. “Fired?”

You said nothing, but the displeased expression gave him confirmation.

“Your fault.”

“How’s that? Oh, let me guess,” his finger taping his lips in the most frustrating exagerration of his excessively dramatic self. “You couldn’t stop thinking about me and got distracted from your work, so of course, your boss told you to never come back because of your uselesness. Tragic love story!” He sighed. “But then again, who could resist me? I feel sympathetic for you. <3″

Your disgust grew just at the thought of being in love with Hisoka. He annoyed more you at every word he spoke, at every breath he took but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing this. You prefered playing his game and use your sarcasm to counter his and perhaps, distract yourself from your harsh reality.

“Well, if you’re so sympathetic, you could buy me a house-”

“Nope, <3″

You tried, at least!

“My apartment have been infested with cockroaches, so honestly, I really need a house. If you know a place, tell me.”

Hisoka eyed you for a second.

“Are you really unclean to the point of having cockroaches in your whole apartment?”

“What ? NO!” you yelled.

He just laughed again, shoting his head back. You bite your lower lips in embarassment as you saw the eyes of everyone else in proximity glaring at you. Your cheeks burned in fluster.You’ve been too loud.

“I have an idea!” you said to Hisoka after chacking your burning face away. “We could swap houses! That way, you could live with your family!”

His laugh died and he looked at you, pleased that you started playing with him.

“They said they missed you, you know? That you shouldn’t have run off and left them without saying anything,” you continued.

“I,” started Hisoka through a shit eating grin, “hate you so much and I urge to kill you but it would be no fun with you.”

“I think one of your brothers at my house is called Steve. Steve really, really misses you.” You smiled. “I feel like you two were very close.”

You liked insisting on each and every word of your sentence.

“Impossible. I’m too sexy to be related to Steve.”

“You’re sure? I thought you were twins. I could barely tell you apart!” Your voice sounded more and more amused with each syllable leaving your mouth. It felt so natural. “Wow.”

Honeslty, playful bander with Hisoka was fun. A real game, a match one of you had to win; he was never phased by any of your words so you kept sending sly insults back and forth in this oddly lively and convivial disgust you shared for each other.

Unfortunatly, everything must come to an end, right? You stopped quick in your teasing when you saw a familiar number appearing on your phone. Your smile vanished in less than a second and the atmosphere wasn’t so light anymore. Your partner was calling you, but in all honesty, you didn’t want to answer now. Or more like you didn’t have the heart to.

Hisoka raised one eyebrow.

“Lover?”

“I guess.. They’ve been cheating for a while, so no, not really anymore,” you said, trying your best to seem nonchalant about it.

“And you’re okay with that? You don’t seem like the type who’d have an open relationship.” His voice sounded like he took great joy in your suffering.

“Well, they found their soulmate. I know them,” you gulped. “I know them more than I know myself. It’s been hard on them and they aren’t ready to talk about it but I’m aware of what they’re doing at night. I saw their messages by accident.” You shrugged. “I’m only waiting for when they feel like it’s time.”

You stared at the number until it disappeared.

“Liar.”

You looked over to Hisoka again, slightly disoriented.

“You can dump them since you found your own soulmate.The break-up wouldn’t be so hard on them if they knew this.” He chuckled. “You’re just slowing down the inevitable fate of your couple. You don’t want to be alone and that’s all there is to know.”

You glared at him, now. Your heart was beating loudly against your chest, in pure anger. How could he read through you so easily? You didn’t like that one bit and you were disappointed in yourself for oversharing. He’s your soulmate, yes, but he’s still Hisoka.

“Please. Not now.”

“Sucks to be you, love.”

An awkward silence fall upon you both, or at least upon you. While you were frantically texting your best friend to ask for a place to stay, only to be met with a lenghty apology, you searched for other ways to find a place to sleep tonight. The motel rooms prices were way too high and you didn’t know how long you’d need to stay, nor how much it’ll cost to have your appartment clean again. You couldn’t face your partner and you were too ashamed to call your family. Your pride would end you but you prefered sleeping in the streets than having them look at you disapprovingly. Your whole world was falling apart and you blamed it all on Hisoka. And yet...

Hisoka’s eyes didn’t leave your figure. His mind was racing and it seemed like it was the only thing it did since he met you. He didn’t speak when he saw you frown and sigh and type desesperatly on your phone, swipping through your contacts, hesitating over a room price, checking over and over again if anyone could help you. His mind was still racing when he told you:

“I guess you can come to my place for a while.”

You were utterly speechless and goggled at him for a few seconds. It isn’t like Hisoka at all to propose help. He had something in mind, you knew as much, but you couldn’t help but feel floored.

“Who are you and what the heck did you do to my soulmate-?”

“Awww, you refer to me as your soulmate, that’s adorable.”

“ANSWER-” Honestly, you didn’t care about the volume of your voice at this point. You were too shocked.

Hisoka just laughed it off and looked at you, openly condescending and still smiling. Does he ever stop doing so ?

“I will have to take on a mission so I won’t be at Heaven Arenas for a while.” He pointed at you. “You can take my room there while I’m gone.”

You were too confused.

“But why? You gain nothing by doing this!” You frowned and wrapped your hands protectively against your body. “I won’t have sex with you!”

“Don’t worry, I’d rather die,” he rolled his eyes. “I let you take my room because whatever happens to you if you sleep on a bench in the parc happens to me as well. And even if I’m pretty sure I can manage, I don’t want to wake up in the morning with a hole in my belly. You got it, darling?”

“Wait, what do you mean everything that happens to-’

But he didn’t let you finish your sentence: he took your box and walked away without giving you any other explanation.

“Hisoka, wait!”

Well, at least you got a rather interesting piece of informations. You didn’t know everything about soulmates but you sure knew that even if you were linked by fate, Hisoka wouldn’t do this without solid motives. Everything about him screamed to you to never trust him but you needed your box and you needed a roof over your head. You wouldn’t let your guard down for now. You probably couldn’t beat him in a fight but he didn’t seem like he’d kill you so that was already a good point.

You made a mental note to look more deeply into all of this and untangle the mystery of his help and quickly followed your jerk soulmate.

“I said wait, asshole!”

“What, miss me already? Do you want a goodbye kiss?”

“Don’t say such repulsive things,” you replied, gagging. “I’ll need the room’s key.”

“Here,” he tosses it to you before adding “just don’t go looking around my stuff too much~”

This was going to be... interesting.

#hunter x hunter #hxh #hxh x reader #hisoka x reader #hisoka morrow x reader #hxh hisoka #hunter x hunter imagines #hunter x hunter x reader #hisoka imagine #hisoka morrow #hisoka morow x reader #imagines #hxh 1999 #x reader #hxh 2011 #hxh imagines #soulmate au #imagine a soulmate au w/ a weak s/o

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ruensroad · 5 years

Text

never knew it could feel like this

@bloody-bee-tea gave me a good challenge with some mafia!Xichen falling in love with cafe owner!Jiang Cheng, featuring a healthy dose of secrets and jealousy.

---

His life had been a study of how to properly ignore his emotions from his first day under the Jin Syndicate’s thumb. Fear, hidden behind logic. Anger, hidden behind polite words. Sadness, hidden behind smiles. When one was part of a mafia and every moment of life forfeit at any given moment, one had to adopt such measures just to stay sane and alive. Falling too far into emotion would not be good for anyone, something he knew well. After all, if his father had not done that very thing, he would not be where he was now, and he’d promised himself long ago he would never follow that path.

And for the most part, he had a solid handle on it. Over the years, Lan Huan was certain he’d felt all emotions a human was capable of and had dealt with them all. Grief, to frustration, to rare, unbridled joy. There were some emotions he would never reach, like knowing true freedom, and he was alright with that. He had to be. The problem was that he’d miscalculated his ability to overcome these emotions he did not expect. Which was to say he did not overcome them at all. Not even close.

The Lotus Cafe was a safe haven. Peace, when peace did not exist for a man in his position. And a simpler freedom, where he could forget, even if for just an hour, that his life was not his own. Where he could imagine a world where sitting and drinking tea with a warm pastry was a welcome break from a normal job, and where he could smile and flirt with the cafe’s owner without feeling like a liar and a thief.

Not that his intentions towards Jiang Cheng weren’t true. They just weren’t wholly honest, could never be, and if he wasn’t so weak he could be the better man and walk away.

But there was no walking away from a miracle. Lan Huan had learned that from his mother. And perhaps Jiang Cheng didn’t know the full truth about Lan Huan’s tainted world, but he understood Lan Huan was at least holding secrets and still seemed to want him regardless. Only a blind fool would turn away from such a gift.

That was where the problem began.

Want was new for him. He’d wanted to be with people before, but it had happened rarely and had never gotten this far. He felt guilty to indulge it, and helpless to fight it. That he wanted Jiang Cheng was all the logic he could find. Too many reasons to list in needing to say yes, just as many reasons to say no. He was dangerous, a complication, but he could not make the words come to tell Jiang Cheng thus. And so the cycle of guilt and desire started all over again.

And now? Now he was faced with an even newer problem.

She’d come after closing, when Jiang Cheng had dimmed the lights and handed him a broom to help. A rare smile on his face, laughter in his eyes, Lan Huan had been unable to deny him anything, even if all he’d wanted in that moment was to sweep Jiang Cheng around the cafe floor in a dance to the music playing from his phone on the counter.

He’d settled for a kiss or three, all stolen around a grin, then had set to his task while Jiang Cheng had wiped down each table and chair.

The knock had set Lan Huan on edge, because his world’s shadows could reach even the brightest of places, and knowing the face on the other side of the door had not helped.

Seeing Jiang Cheng blink in surprise, but move to let her in had been infinitely worse.

And then it’d started.

“A-Qing,” Jiang Cheng chuckled and she swatted at his chest, all good natured. “Fine then, Doctor Wen.”

“Better.” She was always lovely in all the times Lan Huan had met her, the only free clinic doctor willing to patch up even mafia. Her poker face was legendary, even in the circle of the Jin Syndicate, and she didn’t even blink seeing Lan Huan standing there, holding a broom. “Did you finally find a way to disable your texts, Jiang Cheng? Wei Ying has been crying the past hour that you won’t answer him.”

Rolled eyes, so easily, and Lan Huan watched his entire frame relax, the way it never did around anyone that wasn’t family or Lan Huan himself. It made his fingers clench, just a little, around the broom.

“No, I’m just good at ignoring him,” Jiang Cheng huffed. “He knows I’m busiest at closing. Did he seriously send you here to make sure I wasn’t dead? Again?”

Her laugh was a surprise and the answering smile on Jiang Cheng’s face was a knife to his heart, so sudden it took his breath away. “Yes, but I didn’t come here for him. A-Yuan wanted to remind you of his recital on Saturday.”

Jiang Cheng sighed, but looked so fond about it that Lan Huan’s stomach dropped. In the half light, Jiang Cheng looked soft as he stared down at her, and she in turn seemed just as sweet. And that was a pain worse than the bullet he’d taken before. Lan Huan had to set the broom to the side before he snapped it, a cold feeling in his chest as they leaned in close.

He grabbed a rag and set to finishing the table Jiang Cheng had been working on, but it was a half hearted effort at best, his attention tunneling on the way Jiang Cheng bent in towards her and she to him, like their bodies knew each other’s shape and space enough it was an unconscious effort.

“I told him I’d be there, so I will,” Jiang Cheng assured her, teasingly stubborn, making her laugh again. Lan Huan had to turn away just to breathe and not rip the poor rag in half. He had a feeling that would be hard to explain away, given it was a new one. “Five o’clock, right? I made sure to fully staff so I can leave.”

“Five,” she agreed, teasing right back, and Lan Huan didn’t even have to look to know Jiang Cheng’s face was a pleased flush. Fuck, but why did this hurt so much to hear? “They’ll riot, you know. Their fearless, never-takes-a-break boss actually leaving before closing?”

“I take breaks,” Jiang Cheng grumped in mock offense and Lan Huan had to set the rag down too, feeling it start to tear around his fingernails. “You make me sound like some heartless slave driver.”

“Not heartless,” she teased, getting a snort and what sounded like some swatting. She chuckled and then finally, finally her footsteps went back to the door. Unfortunately, Jiang Cheng’s did too. “I’ll see you Saturday, Jiang Cheng. Be there or I’ll neuter you with a spoon.”

“Yes, yes, tell A-Yuan I’ll be there.” Fond, so fond, it made Lan Huan flush cold, a feeling he had never known. He’d known the numbness of anger and grief, for certain, but jealousy?

He didn’t know what to do except try to keep breathing, even as his chest constricted, even as his heart clenched so hard with something that felt too much like helpless grief. So what if Jiang Cheng smiled at her like she was the sun? They were close and they were allowed to be. So what if their closeness spoke of intimate things? Shouldn’t he be glad that someone saw Jiang Cheng as worth wanting the way he did now?

No, he realized with a sickened jolt. It wasn’t. Not when she was so blessedly normal and beautiful and could give Jiang Cheng a whole love, not just one wrapped in secrets.

Lan Huan was not used to feeling inadequate, but he felt it now, and didn’t know how to come back from it, nor compose himself, even as the chime over the door heralded her departure and the restarting of his alone time with the man he loved.

Gods, what would Jiang Cheng think, hearing such dark thoughts inside his head? He closed his eyes and forced in a deep, shaking breath. In through his nose, out through his mouth, as he’d been taught. One breath, two, three…

“You look like you’re about to explode,” Jiang Cheng commented beside him, startling him back to the present. His face was amused, but the edge of worry was creeping in, even under that adorably arched eyebrow. “Something wrong?”

“Nothing,” Lan Huan did his best to smile, but he knew it fell far flat even before Jiang Cheng snorted at his failure.

“You are a terrible liar,” Jiang Cheng said, crossing his arms now, and the words were an unexpected sting amidst the coil of black in his stomach. Oh, if only Jiang Cheng knew how wrong he was. If only he knew…

“I am,” Lan Huan agreed regardless, because he was failing at this. Tamping down the wave of cold was like trying to wrestle a dragon.

“A-Huan,” Jiang Cheng sighed and nudged him, then shook his head. “Is this about Wen Qing? The lady that was just in here.”

He knew that already, but Jiang Cheng didn’t know, and it was another hateful secret between them. “You two seem close,” he said, because it was true, and he needed some honesty here before he fell apart with lies.

“I’ve known her for years,” Jiang Cheng shrugged, though had gone a bit softer around his sharp edges again. Lan Huan hated that he couldn’t tell if it was for Wen Qing, or for he himself. “Made it to one date that I will never speak of again, so don’t even try. All you need to know is we’re friends and that she’s family now. So stop looking like the world’s poutiest murderer. She’s undeserving of any homicide plotting.”

It was meant as a tease, of course it was, but only made Lan Haun feel worse. Not that he’d ever been tasked to kill anyone, but he’d ruined so many lives in other ways, and his treacherous mind already knew what path it would take to ruin hers.

“I just…” He sighed, for once unable to put a voice or polite veil over what he was truly feeling. And perhaps that was for the best, he thought in some despair. Best Jiang Cheng see him for the petty fool he apparently was. “She makes you so happy…”

“She does, because she’s a friend,” Jiang Cheng said again, chuckling now, and reached out to take his hands. Lan Huan felt himself soften instantly, feeling the worked in callous of Jiang Cheng’s palms, so familiar now, a comfort. “Many people make me happy, even if I don’t seem like it. My sister, my nephews… hell, even Wei Ying, when he’s not being a total idiot.”

He leaned up on his tip toes then to kiss the side of his mouth, which had Lan Huan melting more even with his heavy heart. “I know… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry for how you feel,” Jiang Cheng told him, firm on that, and slowly his untangled their fingers to wrap over Lan Huan’s shoulders, teasing in his hair. “And maybe I kinda like you jealous, even if it’s unwarranted. Just don’t act stupid or mean to her in the future and everything will be fine.”

“I’ll do my best,” Lan Huan promised, fingers sliding down Jiang Cheng’s hips, and swallowed hard at the smile he got for it.

“You’d better. I’m not saving you from her wrath,” Jiang Cheng huffed and leaned up again. This time, Lan Huan met him halfway and kissed him slow, though knew he was pulling him in a tad closer than was strictly necessary. Not that Jiang Cheng seemed to mind, if that chuckle was any indication.

“And for the record,” Jiang Cheng tacked on when they parted, forehead to forehead and gently swaying to the music and the peace of their world, “you make me happy too. Next time you feel this way, remember that, or come find me so I can tell you again. Deal?”

Lan Huan kissed him for that, finally finding a much better, truer smile, and knew he was utterly lost. “Deal.”

#ruenwrites #xicheng #lotus cafe au #mafia au #this was a lot of fun #lan xichen #jiang cheng #wen qing

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ootori-sibs · 4 years

Text

Kyoya's second shot

Episode thirteen: Kyoya's not the villain!

Tw: self harm (mentioned), suicidal thoughts, hallucinations

He didn't not wait outside the club room like he said he would, instead he made his way down to where the middle school kids were being let out. Hanging around near a wall, he watched carefully for Chika, reaching out and pulling the boy aside. The boy glared up at him, pulling his arm away from Kyoya, "what the fuck do you want?"

"Tomorrow. I need you to do it tomorrow."

Chika blinked up at him, surprised, "I'm gonna fight my brother tomorrow?"

Kyoya nodded, "lunchtime session, I need you to run and best your brother. I'll take care of everything else, we need to get a move on with this plan." He saw how the boy's eyes sparkled and smiled, remembering how much he'd hated his own brothers at Chika's age.

"I'll go train some more!"

With that, the boy ran off, clearly excited to beat Honey up. Kyoya chuckled to himself, feeling the autumn breeze in his hair as he sighed, he couldn't relax right now but this would be the perfect weather to do so. He allowed himself a small reprieve as he walked back to the club room, wondering if he'd hear yelling when he returned.

Unfortunately he heard absolutely nothing as he returned to standing outside the club room like a glorified guard dog. A few minutes passed and he heard no yelling still, the door opened and Haruhi left, looking tired but not too upset. She glanced at Kyoya, who had adjusted his posture to loom over her, a smug expression on his face, Haruhi sighed, "I'm sorry for stressing you out, Senpai, I understand you're just worried about him."

Kyoya just scoffed, pacing around her like a cat toying with a mouse, feeling awfully smug- surely Tamaki was single now, "oh don't worry about it, I'm just happy that he's going to be happier now," he practically purred the words out, standing over Haruhi with his hands in his pockets. She stared up at him, clearly not amused.

"I'm still with him, we didn't fight, we had a mature conversation about our emotions," she seemed annoyed by Kyoya's glee, not that it stayed for long… all his joy disappeared as he realised that he was stupid to be so optimistic about things. Haruhi was too smart, Tamaki was so easily tricked by here, Kyoya should have known better. But it hurt, to think that Tamaki was too naive to realise he was being used, his poor sweet friend.

Kyoya was furious, he clenched his firsts and once again had to refrain from punching Haruhi, it was incredibly tempting but he knew that Tamaki would be mad if he did. It seemed Haruhi noticed his rage, sighing sympathetically, “I’m not trying to hurt him, I want him to be happy just as much as you do.” How dare she try to sympathise with him! She doesn’t understand a single thing about how he feels! She doesn’t care about Tamaki in the slightest and trying to pretend she does should be a crime. He hates her so much. It seems she realised how that just made him angrier, patting him on the arm, “I think you might have anger issues, senpai, you should probably work on that,” and with that, she walked away, leaving kyoya stood in an inferno of his own rage, the only thought in his head about how horrible and cruel she was, how disgusting, how disrespectful, how dirty, how-

“Thanks for waiting for me, Kyoya.”

Oh. Kyoya felt his rage vanish as Tamaki patted him on the shoulder, smiling softly. The blonde seemed so pleased and kyoya didn’t have the heart to tell him why he shouldn't be, he just awkwardly nodded, “yeah… of course I would, it’s my job to make sure you’re alright,” he smiles at him, appreciative that Tamaki had chuckled at Kyoya’s feeble attempt a joke, sighing, “I really don’t think this is a good idea…”

The blonde just shrugged, “eh, doesn’t really matter to me, as long as everyone’s happy in the moment, then it’s worth it I think.” Kyoya couldn’t tell him that not everyone was happy with this situation, he’d have to explain why. At least Tamaki would be spending the night at his house, that was the silver lining here. So they began to walk to the limo park, happy to be spending time together either way, even just as friends.

In the limo, neither of them really had a conversation, Tamaki just explained exactly what had happened during his discussion with Haruhi while Kyoya did his best to ignore him. The only thing he could think about was how haruhi was horrible and evil and the worst person he knew, she didn't deserve tamaki if she was going to keep using and hurting him- Kyoya felt this was more than him just having a crush on the blonde here, this was a moral fight, he couldn’t let her keep hurting his best friend, crush or not. Kyoya had to do something.

Shadow king: HURT HER

YOU NEED TO HURT HER

Woman#2: What? What happened?

Shadow king: IT DOESNT MATTER

JUST FUCKING HURT HER

Woman#2: Mentally you mean, or?

Shadow king: I DONT CARE HOW

JUST FUCKING DO IT

Child: oh shit

Woman#2: You're giving us permission to physically hurt her??

Peasant: kyoya wait

think this through

you dont really want to hurt her

youre just angry

Woman#2: Shut the fuck up poor boy.

He’s not going to listen to you.

They made their way inside, Tamaki waved to Fiyumi when he spotted her, she chuckled knowingly and that made Kyoya feel all the worse. She had no clue what kyoya was going through, she had no idea how painful it was for him… not that she had any way of finding out. She approached them smiling, “hi Tamaki, it’s lovely to see you.”

Tamaki beamed, “same to you! How are you doing Fiyumi?” Kyoya felt some sort of way, seeing his family being so casual with Tamaki.

She chuckled, “i’m doing good, thank you,” she paused, glancing to Kyoya for a moment, her eyes turning sympathetic- Kyoya hated it when she did that, “I’m glad you’re keeping an eye on Kyoya, he has been spiralling lately.” she smiled, meaning nothing but good will, fixing Kyoya’s hair for him, but Kyoya was frozen, silently cursing his sister.

Tamaki seemed to be confused, tilting his head in confusion, “do you mean the starving thing?” Oh for fucks sake.

Fiyumi went still, eyes going wide for a second until she grabbed Kyoya by the blazer, looking so very worried. “Have you been starving yourself?? First the cutting and now this?”

Kyoya could practically feel his heartbeat quicken, putting his hands up in surrender, “I didn’t mean to! It was one time!” He hated how shaky his voice sounded, panicked and frantic. Fiyumi paused, letting go of him, looking sad and defeated, she sighed, clearly going to say something when Tamaki cut in.

“You’ve been cutting? Like, on your arms??”

Tamaki sounded so worried, so sad, and it just broke Kyoya’s heart. He could feel himself shaking, mouth opening and closing, unable to get the words out. He knew, oh god he knew… he barely heard Fiyumi clarifying that Tamaki hadn’t known beforehand, sounding so incredibly guilty, he certainly didn’t register her hurried apology- not like it would reverse the damage if he had. Kyoya felt like his knees were about to give way, and he turned and ran up the stairs as fast as he could, Kyoya lacked in a lot of aspects, but one thing he was, was fast. He made his way into his room before collapsing to the floor, completely out of breath and winded, unable to properly catch his breath as his panic attack consumed him.

He knew. Tamaki knew that there was something wrong with Kyoya. Tamaki knew that he was broken, unsavable. There was no way Tamaki could ever love him now. He had lost, thanks to Fiyumi. Tamaki would tell the others, they'd hate him, they’d pity him. The council was right; he was a basket case. He was horrendous, disgusting, hopeless. No one would ever love him- how could they?

Arms wrapped around him, warm and gentle. There were gentle whispers in his ear, soft comforting words that helped drag Kyoya out of his despair. He opened his eyes to see that Tamaki had picked him up from the floor and was holding him, stroking his hair gently. Fiyumi was knelt opposite Kyoya, tears as she kept apologising; she didn’t know, she thought Tamaki knew, she thought- “‘Yumi…” Kyoya mumbled, seeing his big sister in pain made him feel even worse, “please stop… I-... I understand.” He forced himself to smile, for his sister, he knew that she’d realised it was forced, she always knew.

Fiyumi stood up, nodding and patting him on the head, “Alright Kyoya, if you’re sure…”

He nodded, “I am.” Fiyumi took her leave and Tamaki just held him quietly, reminding him to breathe every now and then. Kyoya appreciated that he didn’t say anything about what Fiyumi had said- though he was sure Tamaki wanted to. It took Kyoya a while to fully calm down, he had previously assumed it would be him comforting Tamaki- not the other way around, but he was glad that he could spend some time so close to Tamaki either way.

“Do you want to talk about it today?”

Kyoya shook his head silently, surprised that Tamaki had asked and not insisted- just more reasons that Tamaki was an angel. “No, sorry,” he was surprised to find himself feeling guilty about it, he was fine with not talking about it when Tamaki didn’t know, but now it felt like he was lying by omission- though he knew that wasn’t how lies of omission worked, he worked with those all the time.

“Alright, as long as you feel safe, tell me if you need anything, alright?” kyoya nodded in response, definitely feeling a lot safe now he was in Tamaki’s arms, such a wonderful place to be. Tamaki’s words were warm, his tone was soft and caring, the barest undertones of his natural accent making him sound just as fresh and new as the first day he’d met him. Kyoya loved this boy with his entire heart, he’d do anything forTamaki... even he didn’t know where the line was drawn.

They watched some cartoons, he usually didn’t enjoy such mindless entertainment, but it was nice to take his mind off the situation, not to mention hearing Tamnaki’s wonderful laughter made every worry melt away. Fiyumi had made them both some hot chocolate as an apology, making it the same way their mother used to- that was incredibly comforting as well. Kyoya could definitely fall asleep like this, Tamaki didn’t let him out of his arms for the entire evening, always keeping at least one hand on him at all times. He really appreciated Tamaki's care for him, glad to have someone willing to slow down and do things at Kyoya's pace.

Falling asleep in Tamaki's arms wasn't really something Kyoya had done before, sure he'd dreamed about it, but it was never something that had actually occured… but as Kyoya leant his head back onto Tamaki and felt his eyelids grow increasingly heavy, he felt like it was the most natural thing in the world. Tamaki had one arm around him, and the other was playing with his hair, the boy was humming a melody to Kyoya, a kind of lullaby, specially to help him relax. Kyoya wondered if there was any way this night could have ended differently, and he really didn't think so.

Kyoya's dreams were filled with princes and crimson ribbons, he dreamt of huge pink castles and the kings that ruled them- and their filthy, common queens that wanted only success. Kyoya wanted to save the king, to cherish him, but the ribbons held him back, branding him unstable, the villain, he didn't understand why he was so evil for wanting someone to be loved. He wasn't being selfish, he swore he wasn't! The thought of the king being used would turn his stomach even if every feeling was platonic… even if he had no proof of such a thing. It wasn't his fault, he couldn't control how he felt, why was the castle crumbling under his feet? Why were the ribbons tying tighter and tighter? Why couldn't he breathe?

He woke up.

#kyoya ootori #tamaki souh #ouran high school host club #tamakyo #haruhi fujioka #chika haninozuka #fiyumi ootori #Second

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thelightofthebane · 5 years

Text

I feel what you feel (and my heart got equally broken)

Summary: Alec snorted, too exhausted for fear. Of course. He really played himself. Asmodeus wouldn’t leave now, not when he had his claws in such a rich source of pain as Alec, not until he drained that source entirely dry. “You don’t care about Magnus’ wellbeing. You just want more pain, more fuel.”

Asmodeus’ crooked smile was all the confirmation Alec needed. “Poor child of Raziel. So naïve. This is only the beginning.” He closed the distance between them, crouching by Alec and leaning in close. “You know,” he said, “I received something very interesting along with Magnus’ powers. I think it’s only fair that I share it with you.”

Or, A bigger and more dangerous deal is made.

Pairing: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s03e18 The Beast Within, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Time Travel, A different deal, Asmodeus is the worst, self-sacrificing idiots

It was my first time attending the Malec Secret Santa, and I’m very satisfied with the result! This story is a gift to @mirrorofliterature, and was beta-ed by @silver-latin-and-salt. I hope you all enjoy!

The original post is here.

You can also read here: ao3

“Mama!”

Alec blinked as the child ran past him, into the arms of a young woman with a warm, beautiful, and eerily familiar smile.

Alec watched, trying to place the woman’s resemblance, as she took the boy onto her lap and embraced him. She began to sing, the unfamiliar language spinning a lullaby.

Whatever the words meant, they only made the kid smile wider, beaming happiness.

Another blink, and the woman now lay bleeding on the bed, a dagger blossoming from her stomach. The boy gave a desperate scream, answered only by the furious shouts of a portly man who burst into the bedroom seconds later.

Realization settled over Alec as the boy turned on the man and hit him with an all-consuming ball of fire.

Magnus.

~*~

“I’ll restore both. His magic and his immortality.” Asmodeus smiled, his golden eyes flickering dangerously, and Alec had the unsettling feeling of being eyed as prey. ”However, there is a price for each. Despite how intertwined the two usually are, it is possible to have magic and not be immortal. Or, to be condemned to an eternity as a useless mundane. So, what do you choose, Nephilim?”

Alec willed his blank mask of an expression not to waver. A selfish part of him couldn’t help but wonder if Magnus would be okay with his magic alone, sacrificing only his immortality. Just for a moment, he dared to imagine it – a life with Magnus at his side, one where they could grow old together. No more fights about that damn box. No more fear of the pain Alec knew he’d leave behind when Magnus outlived him.

But even in the face of that temptation, Alec knew better. Fifty, sixty, seventy years were more than enough for a mortal like Alec, but for an immortal to be reduced to that… It wasn’t only the lack of magic tormenting Magnus, driving him to frenetic desperation and last night’s breakdown. Magnus didn’t want to grow old. He wanted to stay.

And who was Alec to deny him that?

“Both,” Alec said with a fearless fire in his eyes, although his insides couldn’t be colder. “What’s your price?”

“End your relationship.”

Alec blinked, taking several seconds to process that. “What?”

“You are the source of all his suffering. You make him vulnerable, weak. You are a disgrace to Magnus. With you, he can never reach his full potential.” Asmodeus punctuated each ’you’, a hammer slamming into Alec’s defenses. “You are not enough for my son. You never will be.”

Alec felt his lips tremble. He knew that, but… “You’re wrong. We love each other.” His voice was quieter now. “I wouldn’t just abandon him.”

“Then I’m afraid you’re going to be the death of him.”

“Magnus will never agree to it.”

“Don’t give him a choice. In fact, Magnus can never know about our little arrangement, or else our deal is off. Break his heart to save his life.”

That sparked something, and Alec frowned. “I’m the one making a deal, here. I should be the only one paying the price. Magnus has already suffered enough.”

“You’re right; but as I said, it’ll be double the price if you want me to return his magic and his immortality. The end of your relationship is but half of what I require – your part in our bargain will cover the rest.”

“And what is it you want from me?”

“Your pain. Your heart so irreparably broken, that your soul will also shatter.” Asmodeus’ voice was cold, though not enough to hide the entirety of his amusement. ”Tell me, Nephilim… do you know what fuels Edom? What fuels any of the hellish realms? How my kind feast on your petty mortal feelings? Anger, envy, lust, jealousy – those are delicious appetizers, to be sure. But sadness? Sorrow? Misery? Ah, the main dish.” He breathed deeply, a self-satisfied smile on his face and cat-eyes taking on a cruel shine. “You, Lightwood, will make a sumptuous banquet.”

And Alec felt only numbness. He always knew that this would be a dangerous game to play – the moment he had decided to talk to Asmodeus, all the possible scenarios had begun to unravel in his mind. He was prepared for the worst.

After all, what could be worse than letting Magnus go?

“Deal.”

~*~

Alec watched as Magnus laughed, chasing after the mundane girl and sweeping her up off her feet, spinning her round until she practically squealed with delight. Magnus was recognizable now, his face sculpted into his familiar adult features, but he still looked so… young, so carefree. He and the young woman turned to face each other, and then they were kissing, and Alec had to close his eyes, unable to face what he’d lost.

When he opened them again, he was standing in a cemetery. Magnus was a few feet away, hand placed gently on a headstone, head bowed.

As he turned to leave, Alec caught sight of his face, and almost shuddered to see the heartbreak etched there.

~*~

What have I done?

Alec punched the alley wall for the fifth time, his skin breaking and blood dripping from his knuckles. He could hear ugly sobs, and it took him a good few seconds to realize that they were coming from him. Good, he thought. Drive the pain out. Out. Out.

He still felt his heart clenching and it was suffocating him.

He broke Magnus’ heart.

He broke his own heart.

He needed to get out.

Another sob. Stop. Stop. Please, someone make it stop.

“Magnus, I’m sorry.”

He cried hard, falling to his knees. Magnus’ pained expression seemed imprinted under his eyelids. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was his lover’s despair, all he could hear were his pleas. Fuck, he made Magnus beg. He wanted so much to go back and take Magnus in his arms, tell him that it was a mistake and that he didn’t care if Magnus still had that ‘spark’ or not. He loved Magnus for who he was, not what he had. Magic or not, immortal or not, he loved Magnus Bane for his heart.

A heart that Alec had destroyed.

“I fulfilled my part of our deal,” a voice echoed behind him. “Magnus has his magic and immortality back.”

“Fine. Go. What more do you want? I’ve already paid you,” Alec growled, feeling too weak to get up, but turning enough to glare at the Prince of Edom.

“You did,” Asmodeus nodded slowly, tilting his head a little as hard cat-eyes returned Alec’s glare, familiar but foreign. Asmodeus was incapable of the warmth and love in Magnus’ eyes, would always be a world away from that sort of kindness and beauty. “You broke Magnus’ heart. You hurt my boy. I cannot let that go unpunished.”

Alec snorted, too exhausted for fear. Of course. He really played himself. Asmodeus wouldn’t leave now, not when he had his claws in such a rich source of pain as Alec, not until he drained that source entirely dry. “You don’t care about Magnus’ wellbeing. You just want more pain, more fuel.”

And then he was grabbing at Alec’s face, his neck, holding him still as dark red magic swirled around him, filling his vision.

Darkness engulfed Alec’s mind. Asmodeus was already gone.

~*~

Magnus was attempting to play the charango, the same one that Alec had often seen lying around the loft, and failing miserably. A man beside him – Imasu, Magnus had called him – just laughed, stilling Magnus’ hands with a flirtatious smile. Magnus met his gaze, his eyes so full of love and devotion it almost hurt.

–

“Live with you?” Imasu shook his head, all the fondness gone. “Never. It was fun for a while, but you are too clingy. Too much for me. I'm tired now. Goodbye, Magnus.”

Imasu walked out, never looking back.

Never seeing the broken look on Magnus’ face.

~*~

Something felt… wrong.

Magnus wasn’t buying Asmodeus’ ‘paternal love’ as the sole reason that he was somehow able to enter this realm and offer Magnus his magic back. And as desperate as he’d been, as grateful as he was to feel his magic again, he would never trade his freedom. Going back to Edom with his father was a fate worse than death, and one that Magnus wasn’t nearly foolish enough to accept.

So as soon as he had his magic back, Magnus had fled. He was done making deals with the devil.

Now that he had his powers back, he could go anywhere. He didn’t have a home, a job or a lover anchoring him to New York. Perhaps it was about time to go away for good. He could try Rome, Venice or Bangkok. It didn’t matter. He just… needed to leave.

After wandering around the city for a while, lost in thought, he stopped by Pandemonium – empty at this time of the day – and decided to take one last look around the establishment. When he took it on, it had quickly become his pride and joy, but now it had been some time since he was last inside. He’d hired one of his most reliable Warlock friends to manage it, because he hadn’t had the time whilst he was dealing with the Shadowhunters’ mess.

He wanted to regret that, but… he couldn’t.

Just as he turned to leave, he received a fire message from Jace.

Do you know where Alec is? His phone is dead, and he’s not answering fire messages.

I can feel that something’s wrong.

Magnus scoffed. Why should he know where Alec was, now? The Shadowhunter had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with Magnus anymore.

He opened a portal, ready to leave, to go somewhere – anywhere – far away; but something prickled at the edge of his mind, and he paused, frowning.

Just days ago, Alec was desperate to not let him go, saying he couldn’t live without him.

Then, he broke up with him.

And then, mere hours later, Asmodeus suddenly appeared and gave his magic back, claiming it was out of love. A pathetic excuse.

…Though not the only pathetic excuse Magnus had heard recently.

I have this meeting I can’t miss. Clave business.

Oh.

“Damn it. If you did what I think you did, I’ll kill you, Alexander.”

~*~

Etta was beautiful, and Magnus was clearly head over heels for her. They danced together every night, talked about stars and dreams, about magic and music. She was another Mundane, but she had the Sight and accepted Magnus’ heritage. She loved and desired him.

He looked at her like his heart had finally found a home.

–

The arguments started because it became clear that even with all his magic, Magnus could never give Etta what she most wanted.

A baby.

She didn’t want to adopt, and didn’t want to spend a childless, finite lifetime with someone who was frozen in time. Desperate, he offered her immortality by his side. They’d find a way.

She refused.

Eventually, she left.

Again, Magnus was too much.

(And all Alec wanted was to hold him, to comfort him, to tell him it wasn’t true.)

~*~

Magnus portalled directly into the Ops Center, where Jace was pacing anxiously. He didn’t notice Magnus until he was practically right in front of him, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

“There you are. Izzy is forging a new Glorious to free Clary from Jonathan, and I need to go to her. Angels above know what that lunatic will make her do. But Alec isn’t here, and if I go to another unsanctioned mission, he will put me into ichor duty for one year.” Jace snorted, spinning his stele between his fingers.

Magnus rolled his eyes and let out a deep exhale, trying to find his last dregs of non-existent patience. “Much as it would seem that what the Head of this Institute does is no longer my concern, I do need to discuss something with him. Have you already tried tracking him?”

“Yeah, but it’s not working – that’s why I sent you that fire message.” Jace lifted one brow. “What’s going on? Did you two fight again?”

“It’s none of your business,” Magnus said curtly. “But I need to know something. Did Alexander have a meeting with some Clave envoy yesterday?”

“No, not as far as I know. He left soon after you did, then came back later so we could track down the Drevak demons. I don’t know where he went, but when he got back, he… he seemed off.”

“What do you mean?”

Jace eyed Magnus a little suspiciously. “Look, if you are angry at him and it’s not int—“

“Just tell me, Herondale.” Magnus snapped, impatient. For some reason, the uneasiness inside him only grew. He felt like he was running out of time, though what the deadline was he didn’t know.

Jace took a deep breath, fidgeting a little. “He… he said something strange. He asked me, if I had a chance to free Clary from Jonathan, but as a consequence couldn’t never see her again, would I take the chance? I said no, and I wanted to ask him more about it, but he seemed really tense and didn’t say anything else.”

Magnus closed his eyes. God, this was a nightmare.

“Asmodeus.” Magnus opened his eyes to see Isabelle walking towards them, a mixture of distress and frustration written across her features. “I see your magic is back.” She pointed with her chin at the red sparkles mindlessly floating around Magnus’ fingers. He hadn’t even noticed. “I promised him to not tell anyone, but I guess you figured it out?” Magnus nodded. “Good. It’s not my place to tell you the details, but since Alec has now disappeared…” She sighed, worry and fatigue making her look older than her years. “I’m worried.”

“He made a deal with Asmodeus, didn’t he?” Magnus asked, already knowing the answer, but dreading it anyway.

“He what?” Jace almost shouted, but Izzy only sighed again.

“He did. Asmodeus promised to give your magic back if Alec broke up with you. He mentioned that there was a little more to it, but he wouldn’t tell me that part.”

“Wait, he broke up with Magnus? After trying to propose at that failed dinner?”

“What?” Magnus’ jaw dropped and Izzy elbowed Jace, shushing him.

Alec was going to propose?

Magnus’ magic flared, but he rapidly took control of it. He was so angry. Angry with himself. Angry with Asmodeus. Angry with the world. But mostly, angry with Alexander for being a self-sacrificing idiot.

Magnus took a deep breath – going around in these circles, getting angry and revealing things, wasn’t going to help. He forced a false mask of calm over his demeanour, but didn’t try to hide his dangerous smile. “Alright. You two focus on Clary. It seems I have some business to attend to.” He waved a hand dismissively, turning halfway on his heels and opening a portal.

“What about Alec?”

“Oh, rest assured, I’m going to find that parabaidiot of yours.” Magnus’ cheerful tone did little to hide the ominous undertone. “But first, I have something to take care of.”

He had a Greater Demon to banish.

~*~

The war was at its peak. In a place of such desolation, it was wildly unlikely that a romance would blossom, and yet here they were.

Magnus was talking to a man Alec recognized immediately from the photograph in Magnus’ box. George. A brave soldier. Magnus was clearly smitten.

But of course, as always, Magnus wasn’t the first option for anyone. George chose the war. He hugged Magnus goodbye and left.

Abandoned again.

People had a tendency to walk away from him.

Alec hated the resemblance.

~*~

“Goodbye, father.”

Magnus closed the portal, a bittersweet echo in the air. He did it. He was finally free from his father’s claws.

He didn’t feel happy, though. Not because he had some kind of childish hope that his father could really love him, but because there was still a lingering feeling of darkness that kept sweetly whispering how monstrous he was. His mother killed herself because of him. He killed his stepfather. He sent his father to Limbo forever.

He didn’t deserve a family.

But… he had a new one, right? Catarina, Madzie and Raphael. Clary, Simon and the Lightwoods.

Alexander.

Magnus grabbed the omamori charm still hidden in his pocket. He hadn’t had the heart to throw it away, even when Alec had crushed his heart.

He was just about to go fetch something of Alexander’s to track him when another fire message arrived.

Alicante fell. Demons destroying everything. People are dying.

Magnus frowned. Okay, that was a problem, but… was it his problem? After everything the Clave had done, did they really expect his help?

Then his cellphone pinged. It was a message from Isabelle.

We found Alec. He’s in Alicante.

“…Fuck.”

Magnus opened another portal, because apparently, Alicante had just become his problem.

He sighed. He always knew that these damn Nephilim would be the death of him.

~*~

If Alec weren’t so exhausted, he would have screamed with frustration and pain. How many love stories had he seen? How many people had he witnessed breaking Magnus’ heart? He’d long since lost track, because it was already dozens – mundanes, warlocks, werewolves, vampires, seelie, djinn…

Somehow, he’d forgotten that the worst was yet to come, until she appeared.

Camille.

In the beginning, she was sweet. Caring. Offered everything that Magnus yearned for.

The poison is never bitter in small doses.

“Who will love you?”

“Poor little Warlock. So naïve.”

“You are insufferable, Magnus. Too much. Honestly, you’re lucky to have me – who else would take you?”

Alec wanted to throw up, watching how Camille manipulated Magnus, forcing his compliance when that wasn’t enough. She broke him in a way nobody deserved.

She put the last brick on Magnus’ well-crafted walls, and Alec watched his heart get locked away.

~*~

Another explosion of flames and ichor, and another demon dead. Alec hadn’t stopped since breaking free of the memories, getting back to the Institute just in time to hear about the fall of Alicante – and worse, that his siblings were there.

With barely a thought, he geared up, reaching for his bow and quiver.

Correction: Magnus’ bow and quiver. Perhaps the last thing from Magnus he would ever get.

He felt hollow, numb, soulless. How could he feel otherwise, when he had caused such pain to the most beautiful soul in existence?

He’d failed Magnus, just as he eventually failed everyone. Asmodeus was right. Magnus was better off without him.

But there was only one thing he could do now, and that was fight. One by one – or five by five – he shot demons down, his arrows flying fast and true even as a voice at the back of his mind whispered that it was useless. With the rift still open, more would just keep coming. Still, if he could buy time for his people to escape, he would do his damned best, even if it killed him.

He was a soldier above all else. Emotions would only distract him from that duty.

“Alexander?”

No.

That voice.

He slowly turned around, losing what little color he still had on his pale face.

“No. You can’t be here. You… You…” His voice broke, and he shook his head in denial.

“I can’t be anywhere else.” Magnus stepped closer, his voice and posture soft.

“No. You don’t understand. I… I’m terrible for you. I hurt you. I…” Alec’s voice broke again, even more painfully. “I don’t deserve you.”

“I get to decide that, and I say you are deserving. More than anyone, Alexander.” Magnus took another step, but Alec retreated, like a scared animal.

Unwanted tears blurred Alec’s vision for a moment, and as soon as he blinked them away, instinct took over – an Edomi demon was launching itself in Magnus’ direction, and Alec could see that Magnus was in completely the wrong position to defend himself.

Alec made his decision in a split-second, throwing himself over Magnus as a shield.

~*~

He didn’t want to see more. It was too much to bear.

And if he’d thought that Camille would be the most difficult to watch… oh, how wrong he was. Asmodeus had left the worst as a sort of ‘grand finale’.

Alec himself.

He watched himself turning Magnus away. Rejecting him with angry words. Lying, letting the Clave manipulate him once more.

He hurt Magnus so many times. He wasn’t better than any of his past lovers. Maybe he was the worst.

Because if Magnus thought he was too much, then Alec knew that he himself was not enough, could never be enough for Magnus.

He watched himself break up with Magnus, heard his own words again, heard Magnus’ pleas again. He saw the despair in his lover’s eyes, wracking his whole body.

He did that.

Alec finally screamed.

~*~

“No! No, no, no—” Magnus begged, and how Alec hated that familiar kind of agony tinting his voice, but he couldn’t do anything. The world faded for a while and he felt himself falling.

But the impact never came.

Instead, he was being held by the only pair of arms that really mattered. He tried to speak, but only blood came out of his mouth, choking him. The demon had torn a deep hole in his abdomen, the bleeding too severe for Magnus’ magic to heal – not on his own, not in this state.

“Stay with me, Alec. Come on. Stay with me.”

Those words again. Oh God, no.

“Sor…ry…” Alec whispered, tears and blood mixing together, liquid hopelessness trailing down his cool skin.

~*~

Alec opened his eyes to reality.

It wasn’t dark anymore, so he could only guess that he was gone for hours.

He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe properly – but he also couldn’t stop crying. It was too much, witnessing in less than a day what Magnus had suffered over centuries.

How had he endured all that? How, despite everything, had he remained kind and generous, good and benevolent?

How… How could so many people have hurt him?

How could Alec have hurt him?

He howled, and Asmodeus was there to collect each drop of anguish, of pain, of heartbreak – he absorbed it all, smiling with cruel satisfaction, before disappearing again to Magnus’ loft. His son would be back from the Institute anytime now, and Asmodeus would be ready to take him to their rightful home.

~*~

“I know about the deal. And why you did what you did. It’s okay, I don’t—“ Magnus was still trying to infuse his healing magic into Alec’s wound, to no avail, when he saw that Alec’s eyes had closed. “Alec? Alexander!” Magnus tapped Alec’s cheek, desperately looking for a sign of consciousness.

Alec blinked slowly, dazed. He didn’t understand. Why was Magnus trying to save him?

“Don’t you… hate… me?”

“What-? Of course not. Alexander, I love you. I’d never, ever, hate you. Even though I’m angry that you made a deal with my father, I’d never hate you.”

“I…” Alec licked his chapped and dry lips, tasting the metallic tang of blood. “I only… wanted to… help you. ‘ake you hap-py. Your… magic-”

“I know, I know. Please, don’t talk anymore. We will have plenty of time after this to talk it out, I promise. Just… just rest, okay? Don’t go away. Stay here.”

“I love… you.” And this was his ultimate truth – even when he still felt his heart shattered, bleeding with the rest of his body. He needed to tell Magnus that, even if it were for the last time, even if he never opened his eyes again. “Lo…ve… ‘u…” He breathed, welcoming the darkness once more.

“I love you too, Alexander,” Magnus cradled Alec’s body as close as possible, doing his best to not break down. Alec was alive. He could feel his heartbeat. He couldn’t panic, or else he would lose Alec for good.

“Alec!”

Jace, Isabelle and Clary came running up to them.

They bore more bad news. Jonathan had destroyed the Morgenstern sword.

Alicante was doomed.

Glancing at Alexander, Magnus felt his heart clench even more, if that were possible. His Shadowhunter seemed as if he had given up the will to fight for his life. He forced more healing spell into the wound, turning over a plan in his mind.

“My father told me about a way to increase my power.”

“Enough to close the rift?” asked Clary.

“Potentially, yes. The strength I would need to pull it off can only come from one place.”

“Edom?” Izzy prompted. Magnus only nodded.

“You know, if you weren’t a 400-and-something-year-old Warlock, I’d kick your ass. Actually, I could still do that, except that my brother wouldn’t forgive me.”

Magnus turned to Izzy with wide eyes, dumbfounded. She looked like a woman at the end of her patience.

“You and Alec are ridiculous. Always making these stupid decisions for the sake of others, for the sake of the world, but never choosing yourselves. If you go to Edom, you know that you won’t be able to come back. Then my stupid brother will most likely raise another hell just to get you back. We have no demon blood, so we wouldn’t survive in Edom – which just means that Alec would do something even more stupid to get there, like… I don’t know, trying to turn into a Vampire? Something idiotic like that.”

Magnus’ jaw fell slightly, and for the first time in years, he was truly speechless.

“Magnus… Alec won’t make it without you. He is giving up.” Jace was palming his parabatai rune, clearly in pain. “Please. He’ll only stay if you stay.”

“You…” Magnus huffed, reluctantly amused. “You are all impossible.” Really, these Nephilim would be the death of him. “Okay. There is something else I could try.”

Something that could’ve helped before, if it wasn’t for Lorenzo’s threat.

Magnus pulled away from healing Alec, flicking his wrist and summoning a piece of paper and a pen. He wrote his message, creating another twenty copies with a wave of his hand, and sending them off. All of them flared immediately, flying off in different directions.

It was time to call in all his favors - this time, way out of Lorenzo’s jurisdiction.

~*~

It has been five months since the last time he was at Pandemonium during its ‘closed’ hours. That day, he had decided to leave New York – maybe for good. Now, he wanted nothing more to stay.

Thanks to the combined forces of eighteen warlocks, they’d had enough power to close the rift above Alicante. And the delight of having Shadowhunters owe a huge debt to the Warlock community? Well, it was a delicious bonus.

Catarina had focused on saving Alec’s life, while Magnus had led the spell needed to close the rift. Izzy, Clary, Jace, and other Shadowhunters ran interference, keeping the demons away from the Warlocks while they worked.

Some days later, the danger Jonathan imposed also met its end.

They could finally breathe and rest.

They took turns to get days off. First Izzy with Simon, then Jace and Clary – and finally, Magnus took Alec as far away as he could.

They had a very long (and very overdue) talk about everything – Magnus’ magic, his terrible coping mechanisms, Alec’s deal with Asmodeus, their relationship, communication.

There were a lot of tears. Hugs. Kisses. Reassurances.

Sex.

And if they stayed a bit longer away from New York, well – nobody dared to say anything.

Now, Magnus was at Pandemonium once more, reminiscing about everything that happened since that very first night, when Alec, Jace, Isabelle and Clary had stormed into his life.

Distracted as he was, he barely registered an arrow flying over his shoulder.

Immediately, he called upon his magic, ready to fight – but when he turned around, what he saw made his heart beat faster in an entirely different way, his magic flickering out again.

Alec was there, bow in hand, standing at the stairs leading to the upper floor.

Exactly like that night. Exactly like when he had killed that Circle member, and saved Magnus’ life.

Giving Magnus a crooked smile, Alec climbed down the stairs and put aside his bow.

“You know, it always made me happy that you were my ‘first’ everything. My first kiss, my first relationship, my first ‘I love you’, my first – er – sexual partner.” At that, an adorable pink colored Alec’s cheeks and neck. “I wasn’t yours, but that never worried me. Once, Jace told me that it only ‘counted’ when we have this kind of experience with the one we truly love. He says that it’s only when he had his first kiss with Clary that he felt whole.”

“Oh? I never took him for the romantic type.”

Alec shrugged, trying to not grin. He finally got closer to Magnus and kissed him sweetly, just a slow and lingering slide of lips.

“I asked you to come here today because this,” he gestured to the club, “is our first place. Where our lives got intertwined. So… there isn’t a better place to ask you for another first.”

He took a small velvet box from his jacket pocket and opened it, revealing the Lightwood ring. Licking his lips, he braced himself and looked at Magnus.

Really looked.

And it was intense enough for Magnus to drop his glamour, as the realization of what was about to happen crashed down on his mind. Big, warm, golden cat-eyes looked back at Alec, full of adoration.

“Magnus, will you give me the honor of being my first, my only love, for the time we get to share? Magnus Bane, will you marry me?”

And in all Magnus’ centuries, saying a simple, three-letter word had never seemed so peaceful, so easy.

“Yes.”

#shadowhunters #malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #my writing #malec secret santa 2019 #mirrorofliterature #malecsanta19 #ColorfulWarlock

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cutiegrumpycerym · 5 years

Photo

New boy ! You know what that means ? New comic ! The comic will be very short, it will just tell his full story. Here is now a full reference for him !

Name : Aion

Age : ?

AU : He comes from a dead AU, but its name was Aiontale.

Role : Gardian of Time in the multiverse. His role is to protect timelines and worldlines of the AUs, preventing useless resets done by the humans, and restoring corrupted timelines when he can.

He is NEUTRAL, so he doesn’t save anybody from they fatality. He is also not interested in making people happy. He just does his job, and wants to “pass time” by finding entertainments for himself. So he is more exactly CHAOTIC NEUTRAL.

His role is also to help the Creators to find the time they need to create AUs. And the time they need to rest, because it’s also important. His point of view on this will be explained in the comic.

Backstory : For some reasons that will be explained in the comic, his AU died, consumed. Every inhabitants was “falling down” one by one. To avoid this fatality, Aion had to destroy his own SOUL before it consumed by itself, letting him “fall down” too to die. It also erased him from the existence of every timeline and worldline possible, separating his Fate from the Fate of his world. Also, everyone would have forgot him, like he never existed. They wouldn’t even see him, as it was like if he was non-existent. He lost his ability to feel, and his memories. When he woke up, his world was just gone.

The first person he met in the multiverse was Error, who obviously tried to erase him from existence. But he couldn’t do what was already done in a certain way, so he simply tried to kill him. But Aion abilities made his magic useless, so Error gave up, upset. But the fight exhausted Aion and drained all his magic which couldn’t re-new.

Ink found him after a time, inconscious. He was interested by his story which looked similar to his own. For this only reason, he helped Aion to leanr many things like his abilities, how the multiverse worked, and the role he should have. Only because Ink was curious and fascinated.

Fresh was the third person Aion met, but they didn’t talked for a long time. But Aion has a better feeling with Fresh, because he is more similar to him than Ink is.

He also met Lust and found him particularly interesting, but I’ll keep this story for later~

Abilities :

- Two swords swordsmen. His swords are clockwise. The minute-hand, Kairos, can “slash time”. The hour-hand, Chronos, can “block time”. The second-hand, Aion, is not a weapon but a tool which allows him to “rewrite time”. He can change the past, the future and even the Fate of a person or a timeline. But as he is neutral and is not able to care about people, he just uses it to restore damaged timelines. He also doesn’t sees the point in fighting, especially with Error. So he never fights seriously.

- He can see Past, and all Futures possible of any living creatures thanks to the red belt around his coat. The problem is he can’t predict which future can occur. The only future he can see with perfection are only the next few seconds or minutes. He also oftenly confuses Past and Future with the Present time he is actually in, so he can say very confusing things to people.

- He is also aware of every alternate realities that exists thanks to Creators. So he knows about Sanscest, Fontcest, ship childs, and even fusions like AccidentVerse. But he can’t access them. He can just have a glimpse during his “dreaming sessions”.

- As a SOULLESS being, he can’t dream. He actually sees Past, Futures and Alternate Realities during his sleeps. It just confuses him a lot because he can’t distinguish what’s real or which “time” it corresponds to.

- He can feel. He actually knows two spells.

- “Chrono Stasis” allows him to “kill the time”. Basically, he can stop time. But he can do it only on living beings. Not on an entire timeline. That kinda useful in fights !

- “Chrono Anastasis” is the reversed spell, which means “Resurrection of Time”. This spell allows him to do a lot of things like healing people or cancel magic attacks, but it especially allows him to “steal and consume time” of living beings or timelines to “go back in time” for himself, bringing him back the feelings he had when he still had a SOUL. But the thing is that he’ll remain soulless, so he doesn’t know HOW to feel. Nor when, nor why. It’s just kinda confusing to him.

- This spell also allows him to re-new his lost magic. It’s the only way for him to use magic.

- This spell basically converts the time of other living things to Aion’s own benefit. But it has its risks. Each universe and person has its own resistance. Its own limit of time before being destroyed. If Aion passes this limit of time for a timeline, it will shatter and disappear like it didn’t existed. That’s why each time he enters a universe or see someone he want to use “Chrono Anastasis” on, his internal clock (located in his left eye) tells him how much time he can use it.

- If for example he uses “Chrono Anastasis” during 6 hours on a timeline, he will hace to restore those 6 hours to the timeline, losing his ability to feel and re-new his magic, and he will have to wait 6 hours before using it again, repeating the cycle. Everything’s proportional !

- His internal clock indicates him what time it is in each AU he enters, as notion of time is messed up in the multiverse.

Trivia :

- If he is too much disturbed and loses his focus, he will lose track of time and his internal clock won’t be able to update again. That’s why to prevent that, he also thinks to put his watches on the right hour. But if he forgot, and lost track of time, he will have a huge panic attack.

- When he looses track of time, his left eye will show a red hourglass instead of a green clock.

- When he is thinking, the hourglass will also show up !

- The color of the clock / hourglass depends on his “emotions”. Green if he feels okay, red if he doesn’t.

- He has a huge phobia of not being able to know the time and measure it. So he basically hates voids because time doesn’t exist there, so his internal clock can’t do anything for him.

- When he doesn’t feel, he quickly loses track of time in an AU as he is not able to “feel the time” anymore. So he will rely on his watches. If he forgot to put them on the right hour, he will just stay immobile until he compketely blacks-out, like a broken clock.

- He hates to wait.

- He hates wastes of time.

- He has also a huge phobia of “being inexistant”, or just not living. That’s why he entertains himself in any ways possible to feel alive. That’s why he feels so alike with Fresh.

- He met many people, outcodes like Paper Crane, and even Template and Pale. He likes Pale a lot while he can’t understand Template.

- He really likes most of the Floweys.

- He developped sadistic tendancies, so he will purposely say scary things to people just to see how they will react.

- Or mainly because he can’t realize when he does something bad. Heh. He can’t feel. That’s pretty hard for him to figure this out, or understand others or even feel empathy for them !

- He can purposely act annoying. Just for fun. He is the kind of guy to SLUUUURP intensely what he is drinking right next to somebody just to watch they reaction. Cuz dat’s funny lol.

- He finds Lust very fascinating. Because he doesn’t understand him and is curious. And because WOW. “HIS DIFFERENT PASTS, FUTURES AND EVEN SELFS IN ALTERNATE REALITIES ARE COMPLETELY WACC ! GOOD JOB CREATORS !”

- Laughs at everything.

- Doesn’t understand metaphors. And many things about people.

- Tells time-related puns. Of course.

- HE LOVES ALL OBJECTS RELATED TO TIME. OH MY. WATCHES AND HOURGLASSES ARE SO GOOD.

- His favorite food are niku-pan. Also called bobuns (I believe ?) You know ? Those soft breads with meat inside ? Delicious~ “He could kill for it~”

- He enjoys to do scary smiles like Flowey, just to scare people. That’s funny too.

- When he feels, his emotions are very random unlike Ink. This spell is based on his Memories. And the freshest and most traumatizing memory he has is the feeling of terror and despair he felt as the idea of dying while seeing his own world shatter.

- So yes. When he feels, he is very anguished. Most of the time. That why he does anything to feel better and amused.

- He anguishes a lot when someone points out his bad or inappropriate behaviors whereas he can’t even understand what he did wrong. Then he will feel frustrated of not being able to understand.

- He can’t give a proper definition to feelings. He knows what are basic emotions such as joy, sadness, anger or fear. But that’s all. He doesn’t even know what Disgust or Disappointment are.

- He acts like a jerk without knowing it. And when he knows, he doesn’t care. He is Neutral !

- When he doesn’t feel, he can feel fear in very critical or dangerous moments, because our brains are programmed to create a reaction similar to this feeling that doesn’t depend on SOULs. Like with Flowey. That’s called “Survival Instinct”. Something very present within Aion.

- Aion is the metaphysical time. The time we can’t measure, such as generations, age, fate, ETERNITY. This is one of the three types of time with Chronos and Kairos.

- No one knows if he can use magic in the same way as other Sanses, like bones or Gaster Blasters. Even him. He haven’t found yet any memory about magic from his world.

- “To find the Time, we need a lot of Patience, and Perseverance !”

“Well, see you in the comic, Creators !”

————– Aion!Sans and Aiontale by me Art by me

PLEASE DON’T REPOST, COPY, TRACE NOR USE MY ART ! REBLOGS ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED ! ^^

(Click for better resolution !)

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lumikatdraws · 5 years

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Prompt #20: Bisect

(”T,” Estinien/Aymeric, tentative slash over an established friendship. Takes place several years prior to canon [before the Winter of Coerthas]. Estinien POV. Minor warning for implied headcanon about Ishgard being homophobic.)

- - - - - - - - - -

“The hour is late,” Estinien muttered, glancing at the clock on the mantel. Still, the twilight lingered. In the summer months, the sun stretched on. “I will need to leave the manor ere long.”

Even in the warm weather, his voice always caught like a growl in his throat. Why, he was uncertain. The sound it made was rough and grating, morning and night. People often made note of his timbre, the way it conjured gravel and smoke. Some were attracted. Some were repulsed. Aymeric never paid it any mind. He simply accepted it.

Now, Aymeric’s pale eyes flicked to examine the time for himself. He made a calm sound of agreement and set his half-finished cup of tea down on the parlor table. “Indeed,” he agreed, stifling a sudden yawn. He cast his surly brother-in-arms a mildly reprobative glance. “Go home, my friend. Ser Alberic keeps his vigil until you return, does he not?”

Estinien grunted in acknowledgement but slouched deeper in the settee.

A soft laugh spilled from Aymeric’s lips and he shook his head gently. “He is a good man—”

“I know.” Estinien tossed his head back against the couch; stared at the ceiling and sighed with frustration. “A very good man. One of the best men I have had the pleasure of knowing.”

“Surely he would wish to hear you say that,” Aymeric declared.

Estinien grunted and pressed his lips firmly together.

He could feel the way his friend studied him; the way his pale eyes almost left behind white-hot tracks. Blazing and wintry all at once. “Tell me, Estinien—if you will,” he began. His dark voice was solemn, but kind. “For what reason do you guard your sentiments so strictly?”

The words speared through him like a sword or a lance and he could feel his hackles start rising.

For what reason, indeed. Beyond losing all he loved to the wrath of a wyrmking? Beyond life as an orphan thereafter, besides? Aymeric knew those reasons, but he asked for his own; another effort to reach down into his torment—another attempt to grapple and pull him to the surface.

Aymeric, always picking and prying, wanting so badly to untangle him.

It was a lost cause.

“Sentiment is the gateway to despair,” Estinien muttered, defensive, pulling tighter. He studied a crack in the molding above the dusk-limned window. “Sentiment breeds weakness.” He clenched his jaw. “I would sooner throw myself into the abyss than allow sentiment to control me.”

He felt the heat of Aymeric’s eyes, roaming over him slowly. “To allow it to control you would be a weakness, indeed,” he permitted. “But I would argue that sentiment itself is far from frailness—particularly sentiments like joy, or like love.” He took a thoughtful breath. “Feeling breeds infirmity in reaction, most often to aching. We lash out in pain and anger, or in sadness.”

Estinien knew all these things. He had no need for this homily.

“Treat me like a comrade, Aymeric, not a wayward child.” He tried to keep the bite from his voice, but it still came out sour. He tipped his head to face him, hoping his eyes at least held some thread of apology. “Well do you know how much I loathe being lectured.”

When Aymeric smiled, his eyes crinkled. They were almond-shaped and narrow and the color of ice or diamonds—but Estinien snorted at the thought, because Aymeric’s eyes were far finer than diamonds. Aymeric’s lips quirked in amusement and gentle affront. “Do you laugh at me?”

“Bloody hells, no.” It came out along with a bitter chuckle. “I laugh at my own damned self.”

That piqued his interest. “Perhaps my sermon struck a chord against your will?”

Estinien grimaced with all the force he could muster. “Shut it, Borel.”

Fury, Aymeric was smiling again. Smiling and ruffling a hand through his hair, black and glossy, like the feathers of a raven. Why in the name of Halone was the man so godsdamned lovely? “I shall continue to hope that you listen, somehow,” said Aymeric, almost shyly.

Estinien huffed and stared at him sternly. “I always listen to you, you sodding dimwit.”

Aymeric grinned wryly, and—was he blushing? “Thank heaven.”

He was.

He was blushing.

Aymeric was blushing, and Estinien was frozen.

The clock tick ticked on the mantel. The sun continued to set. The gentle summer wind whispered on the window and Estinien tried to breathe, to move, to do anything but keep staring. But he was transfixed by the flush on his face and the something else in Aymeric’s eyes; something new and very brittle, gently rising, like a dove on the surge of a thermal or a white cloud of rainfall in the Highlands— “Estinien?”

The way he said his name made every ilm of Estinien prickle. “What.”

Aymeric took a thin breath. The tips of his ears were red now, eyes half-veiled by black lashes.

Hellfire burned in his blood as Estinien thought he almost looked edible.

“Might I ask you—one thing else?”

Did Estinien dare to invite it, whatever was happening? Did he dare?

One thing was for certain. He had not the strength to look away.

The word fell from his lips before he could stop it. “Ask.”

Aymeric gave a breathy laugh—a small, lopsided grin. He managed to keep their eyes locked together despite his palpable embarrassment. “Stop me at once if this disturbs you,” he began, his voice laced with the shadow of a tremble. “Or if it comes at all as a surprise. But I,” his air hitched and stoppered. He cleared his throat once. Twice. Shook his head in evident humiliation. There was a long, tense pause as he struggled. “Words have ever been my strength above actions—” He took another, far more ragged inhalation. “And yet they fail me now.” He looked away then; closed his eyes tight. “I was a fool to think I could ask it—”

“Tell me,” Estinien muttered, desperate to be beheld again.

Long black lashes parted to reveal that light blue gaze of glittering sky and stardust, flicking to inspect him. But now, where the pale, fragile promise had been swelling, something heavy and glacial was sliding into place. “A wave of impulse overwhelmed me,” Aymeric was saying, jerking his head. “It would be remiss of me to mention, in far more ways than one.”

Estinien was ashamed of the way he wanted to yell at him; to take him by the shoulders and force him to tell. He took a thick breath instead. “Say what you are thinking.”

“I—” His mouth trembled. “If it interferes with our friendship—”

“Nothing could do that,” Estinien growled. Somehow, he was leaning closer regardless, hands still itching to grab. Aymeric flushed a bit hotter at the closing of the distance, perhaps a bit hotter at the look in his eyes. Well. Confusing as they were, doubtless Aymeric could see some measure of his feelings. He was always very skilled at reading a room.

Aymeric flung the words from his lips in a rush. “I never thought I would wish this,” he said quickly. “I am—rarely comfortable enough to wish it, but—” The breath he took rasped in his throat, very dry. Aymeric wet his lips. “Would you—perhaps—would you kiss me?”

It was as though the world had stopped. Time stopped ticking. Air stopped moving. The wind outside surely stopped blowing. Perhaps the war was ended, and Nidhogg had finally died, and peace was falling, at last, over every malm of Coerthas— “Pardon?”

Aymeric gulped a small breath, making his shoulders rise and fall. “Forgive me,” he blurted, all the blood in his body surely rushing to his face. “I never should have asked—”

“No.”

He let himself take Aymeric by the shoulders then. He was slim, but powerful, corded with muscles; a knight with formidable gifts all his own. Aymeric said he never thought he would wish this, and as he held him in his hands, Estinien was struck by a parallel musing: That for all the wild gnashing of his desires, Aymeric was perhaps the only man that could tempt him.

And tempted, he most certainly was.

“Never have I done such a thing with a man,” he admitted.

“Never have I,” said Aymeric, at once.

They stared hard into each other’s eyes, and Estinien took a shaky breath. “If that is what you wish,” he said, perhaps his roughest, smokiest growl, “For you, I will grant it.”

Aymeric shook with a visible tremble; made Estinien quake through the link of his arms. He moved an ilm closer and hesitated. “If it feels at all—wrong—you must say so at once—”

Tentative, Estinien moved an ilm of his own. His long hair slipped across his shoulders; began to drape to reach for Aymeric itself. “Rest assured that I will pitch you aside if it feels wrong.”

Aymeric coughed out a laugh; searched Estinien intently. “Thank the Fury.”

Tick, tick went the clock on the mantle. The summer wind hushed against the window, and Estinien leaned their foreheads together. His black hair was exactly as soft as it looked, and he smelled like salt and grass—they had been training afield in the daytime. Estinien brushed their noses together and caught a whiff of the tea that Aymeric was drinking, sweetened with that syrup of birch that he liked. A gaze blue as the sky in the morning held Estinien through the curl of long black lashes and he let himself be taken in. Nothing in the world could be wrong if Aymeric beheld him like that. Nothing in the world could be anything but right.

He closed the distance.

Aymeric tasted like tea and birch syrup—along with the bitters of anxiety. Estinien kissed him very gently, and Aymeric timidly answered. Their mouths found a mesh, new and unfamiliar, and Estinien was amazed at how plush his lips felt; at how quickly his own body was reacting.

They parted.

“Ah. That was—” Aymeric exhaled, face still beguilingly rosy. He grinned and flushed harder and laughed without sound. “That was really very nice.”

Estinien was speechless, but he grunted in what he hoped was affirmation.

Aymeric looked at him in immediate concern. “Are you well?”

Estinien jerked his chin by way of a nod and shifted his hips. Gods buggering damn his all too rousable flesh. Merely one kiss and he was ready to pounce? On Aymeric? Verily?

The other’s eyes were flicking down, perceptive, and Estinien resisted the urge to fold his hands in his lap. In the splitting of an instant, calculations and understanding flashed behind his pale blue eyes and Aymeric raised his black eyebrows in candid surprise, locking their gazes together again.

“Not one word,” Estinien grumbled, leaning away, completely bisecting them.

He could tell that Aymeric bit back a laugh from the way his eyes crinkled again. “You would deprive me of words in this moment—my instrument of choice?”

Estinien crossed his arms and took slow breaths, relieved to find that his body was calming. “I beg you would keep them to yourself,” he mumbled, knowing he would not.

“You are very good at that, you know,” Aymeric began, tongue flexing sure enough. He was reaching for his tea as if nothing at all had happened. “Very impressive, if I am honest.”

Estinien snorted at that. “I have had my share of practice,” he rumbled. “Far more than you have, you cloistered old ascetic.”

“Guilty,” Aymeric readily confessed, tipping his cup to his lips.

The sound of the door in the foyer, creaking open. Heels clicking, distant in the hall. A voice that lilted like a harpsichord and rustled like old damask curtains. “Aymeric?” A pause. “There is a pair of dirtied boots cast sidewise in the vestibule. Is Estinien there?”

Both young men straightened up at once and glanced toward the door to the parlor.

“Aye,” Estinien shouted, knowing the sound would be distinct enough to carry.

A heartbeat of silence and a gentle hoot of laughter. “Praise Halone,” cackled the Vicomtesse, her voice very wry. “I knew no son of mine would make such a fine mess.”

- - - - - - - - - -

#ffxivwrite2019 #estinien #aymeric #estinien wyrmblood #aymeric de borel #slash #estinien/aymeric #aymeric/estinien #FFXIV #ffxiv fanfiction #my writing #fluff #Grumblepuddle McEyeballhands #Angsty McEyeballs #Ser Cinnabon #Just Estinien things #Halone bless these beautiful boys #i love them so much

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malecsecretsanta · 5 years

Text

Merry Christmas, @mirrorofliterature!

Happy Holidays! This is my gift for volunteer_of_hufflepuff <3 It's not Christmas-ish, but I tried to use elements you like~ So, I hope you like this!!

Read on AO3

*****

I feel what you feel (and my heart got equally broken)

“Mama!”

Alec blinked as the child ran past him, into the arms of a young woman with a warm, beautiful, and eerily familiar smile.

Alec watched, trying to place the woman’s resemblance, as she took the boy onto her lap and embraced him. She began to sing, the unfamiliar language spinning a lullaby.

Whatever the words meant, they only made the kid smile wider, beaming happiness.

Realization settled over Alec as the boy turned on the man and hit him with an all-consuming ball of fire.

Magnus.

~*~

And who was Alec to deny him that?

“Both,” Alec said with a fearless fire in his eyes, although his insides couldn’t be colder. “What’s your price?”

“End your relationship.”

Alec blinked, taking several seconds to process that. “What?”

Alec felt his lips tremble. He knew that, but… “You’re wrong. We love each other.” His voice was quieter now. “I wouldn’t just abandon him.”

“Then I’m afraid you’re going to be the death of him.”

“Magnus will never agree to it.”

“Don’t give him a choice. In fact, Magnus can never know about our little arrangement, or else our deal is off. Break his heart to save his life.”

That sparked something, and Alec frowned. “I’m the one making a deal, here. I should be the only one paying the price. Magnus has already suffered enough.”

“And what is it you want from me?”

After all, what could be worse than letting Magnus go?

“Deal.”

~*~

When he opened them again, he was standing in a cemetery. Magnus was a few feet away, hand placed gently on a headstone, head bowed.

As he turned to leave, Alec caught sight of his face, and almost shuddered to see the heartbreak etched there.

~*~

What have I done?

He still felt his heart clenching and it was suffocating him.

He broke Magnus’ heart.

He broke his own heart.

He needed to get out.

Another sob. Stop. Stop. Please, someone make it stop.

“Magnus, I’m sorry.”

A heart that Alec had destroyed.

“I fulfilled my part of our deal,” a voice echoed behind him. “Magnus has his magic and immortality back.”

“Fine. Go. What more do you want? I’ve already paid you,” Alec growled, feeling too weak to get up, but turning enough to glare at the Prince of Edom.

And then he was grabbing at Alec’s face, his neck, holding him still as dark red magic swirled around him, filling his vision.

Darkness engulfed Alec’s mind. Asmodeus was already gone.

~*~

–--

“Live with you?” Imasu shook his head, all the fondness gone. “Never. It was fun for a while, but you are too clingy. Too much for me. I'm tired now. Goodbye, Magnus.”

Imasu walked out, never looking back.

Never seeing the broken look on Magnus’ face.

~*~

Something felt… wrong.

So as soon as he had his magic back, Magnus had fled. He was done making deals with the devil.

He wanted to regret that, but… he couldn’t.

Just as he turned to leave, he received a fire message from Jace.

Do you know where Alec is? His phone is dead, and he’s not answering fire messages.

I can feel that something’s wrong.

Magnus scoffed. Why should he know where Alec was, now? The Shadowhunter had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with Magnus anymore.

He opened a portal, ready to leave, to go somewhere – anywhere – far away; but something prickled at the edge of his mind, and he paused, frowning.

Just days ago, Alec was desperate to not let him go, saying he couldn’t live without him.

Then, he broke up with him.

And then, mere hours later, Asmodeus suddenly appeared and gave his magic back, claiming it was out of love. A pathetic excuse.

…Though not the only pathetic excuse Magnus had heard recently.

I have this meeting I can’t miss. Clave business.

Oh.

“Damn it. If you did what I think you did, I’ll kill you, Alexander.”

~*~

He looked at her like his heart had finally found a home.

–--

The arguments started because it became clear that even with all his magic, Magnus could never give Etta what she most wanted.

A baby.

She didn’t want to adopt, and didn’t want to spend a childless, finite lifetime with someone who was frozen in time. Desperate, he offered her immortality by his side. They’d find a way.

She refused.

Eventually, she left.

Again, Magnus was too much.

(And all Alec wanted was to hold him, to comfort him, to tell him it wasn’t true.)

~*~

Magnus portalled directly into the Ops Center, where Jace was pacing anxiously. He didn’t notice Magnus until he was practically right in front of him, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

“Yeah, but it’s not working – that’s why I sent you that fire message.” Jace lifted one brow. “What’s going on? Did you two fight again?”

“It’s none of your business,” Magnus said curtly. “But I need to know something. Did Alexander have a meeting with some Clave envoy yesterday?”

“No, not as far as I know. He left soon after you did, then came back later so we could track down the Drevak demons. I don’t know where he went, but when he got back, he… he seemed off.”

“What do you mean?”

Jace eyed Magnus a little suspiciously. “Look, if you are angry at him and it’s not int—“

“Just tell me, Herondale.” Magnus snapped, impatient. For some reason, the uneasiness inside him only grew. He felt like he was running out of time, though what the deadline was he didn’t know.

Magnus closed his eyes. God, this was a nightmare.

“He made a deal with Asmodeus, didn’t he?” Magnus asked, already knowing the answer, but dreading it anyway.

“He what?” Jace almost shouted, but Izzy only sighed again.

“He did. Asmodeus promised to give your magic back if Alec broke up with you. He mentioned that there was a little more to it, but he wouldn’t tell me that part.”

“Wait, he broke up with Magnus? After trying to propose at that failed dinner?”

“What?” Magnus’ jaw dropped and Izzy elbowed Jace, shushing him.

Alec was going to propose?

“What about Alec?”

“Oh, rest assured, I’m going to find that parabaidiot of yours.” Magnus’ cheerful tone did little to hide the ominous undertone. “But first, I have something to take care of.”

He had a Greater Demon to banish.

~*~

The war was at its peak. In a place of such desolation, it was wildly unlikely that a romance would blossom, and yet here they were.

Magnus was talking to a man Alec recognized immediately from the photograph in Magnus’ box. George. A brave soldier. Magnus was clearly smitten.

But of course, as always, Magnus wasn’t the first option for anyone. George chose the war. He hugged Magnus goodbye and left.

Abandoned again.

People had a tendency to walk away from him.

Alec hated the resemblance.

~*~

“Goodbye, father.”

Magnus closed the portal, a bittersweet echo in the air. He did it. He was finally free from his father’s claws.

He didn’t deserve a family.

But… he had a new one, right? Catarina, Madzie and Raphael. Clary, Simon and the Lightwoods.

Alexander.

Magnus grabbed the omamori charm still hidden in his pocket. He hadn’t had the heart to throw it away, even when Alec had crushed his heart.

He was just about to go fetch something of Alexander’s to track him when another fire message arrived.

Alicante fell. Demons destroying everything. People are dying.

Magnus frowned. Okay, that was a problem, but… was it his problem? After everything the Clave had done, did they really expect his help?

Then his cellphone pinged. It was a message from Isabelle.

We found Alec. He’s in Alicante.

“…Fuck.”

Magnus opened another portal, because apparently, Alicante had just become his problem.

He sighed. He always knew that these damn Nephilim would be the death of him.

~*~

Somehow, he’d forgotten that the worst was yet to come, until she appeared.

Camille.

In the beginning, she was sweet. Caring. Offered everything that Magnus yearned for.

The poison is never bitter in small doses.

“Who will love you?”

“Poor little Warlock. So naïve.”

“You are insufferable, Magnus. Too much. Honestly, you’re lucky to have me – who else would take you?”

Alec wanted to throw up, watching how Camille manipulated Magnus, forcing his compliance when that wasn’t enough. She broke him in a way nobody deserved.

She put the last brick on Magnus’ well-crafted walls, and Alec watched his heart get locked away.

~*~

With barely a thought, he geared up, reaching for his bow and quiver.

Correction: Magnus’ bow and quiver. Perhaps the last thing from Magnus he would ever get.

He felt hollow, numb, soulless. How could he feel otherwise, when he had caused such pain to the most beautiful soul in existence?

He’d failed Magnus, just as he eventually failed everyone. Asmodeus was right. Magnus was better off without him.

He was a soldier above all else. Emotions would only distract him from that duty.

“Alexander?”

No.

That voice.

He slowly turned around, losing what little color he still had on his pale face.

“No. You can’t be here. You… You…” His voice broke, and he shook his head in denial.

“I can’t be anywhere else.” Magnus stepped closer, his voice and posture soft.

“No. You don’t understand. I… I’m terrible for you. I hurt you. I…” Alec’s voice broke again, even more painfully. “I don’t deserve you.”

“I get to decide that, and I say you are deserving. More than anyone, Alexander.” Magnus took another step, but Alec retreated, like a scared animal.

Alec made his decision in a split-second, throwing himself over Magnus as a shield.

~*~

He didn’t want to see more. It was too much to bear.

And if he’d thought that Camille would be the most difficult to watch… oh, how wrong he was. Asmodeus had left the worst as a sort of ‘grand finale’.

Alec himself.

He watched himself turning Magnus away. Rejecting him with angry words. Lying, letting the Clave manipulate him once more.

He hurt Magnus so many times. He wasn’t better than any of his past lovers. Maybe he was the worst.

Because if Magnus thought he was too much, then Alec knew that he himself was not enough, could never be enough for Magnus.

He watched himself break up with Magnus, heard his own words again, heard Magnus’ pleas again. He saw the despair in his lover’s eyes, wracking his whole body.

He did that.

Alec finally screamed.

~*~

“No! No, no, no—” Magnus begged, and how Alec hated that familiar kind of agony tinting his voice, but he couldn’t do anything. The world faded for a while and he felt himself falling.

But the impact never came.

“Stay with me, Alec. Come on. Stay with me.”

Those words again. Oh God, no.

“Sor…ry…” Alec whispered, tears and blood mixing together, liquid hopelessness trailing down his cool skin.

~*~

Alec opened his eyes to reality.

It wasn’t dark anymore, so he could only guess that he was gone for hours.

He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe properly – but he also couldn’t stop crying. It was too much, witnessing in less than a day what Magnus had suffered over centuries.

How had he endured all that? How, despite everything, had he remained kind and generous, good and benevolent?

How… How could so many people have hurt him?

How could Alec have hurt him?

~*~

Alec blinked slowly, dazed. He didn’t understand. Why was Magnus trying to save him?

“Don’t you… hate… me?”

“What-? Of course not. Alexander, I love you. I’d never, ever, hate you. Even though I’m angry that you made a deal with my father, I’d never hate you.”

“I…” Alec licked his chapped and dry lips, tasting the metallic tang of blood. “I only… wanted to… help you. ‘ake you hap-py. Your… magic-”

“I know, I know. Please, don’t talk anymore. We will have plenty of time after this to talk it out, I promise. Just… just rest, okay? Don’t go away. Stay here.”

“Alec!”

Jace, Isabelle and Clary came running up to them.

They bore more bad news. Jonathan had destroyed the Morgenstern sword.

Alicante was doomed.

“My father told me about a way to increase my power.”

“Enough to close the rift?” asked Clary.

“Potentially, yes. The strength I would need to pull it off can only come from one place.”

“Edom?” Izzy prompted. Magnus only nodded.

“You know, if you weren’t a 400-and-something-year-old Warlock, I’d kick your ass. Actually, I could still do that, except that my brother wouldn’t forgive me.”

Magnus turned to Izzy with wide eyes, dumbfounded. She looked like a woman at the end of her patience.

Magnus’ jaw fell slightly, and for the first time in years, he was truly speechless.

“Magnus… Alec won’t make it without you. He is giving up.” Jace was palming his parabatai rune, clearly in pain. “Please. He’ll only stay if you stay.”

“You…” Magnus huffed, reluctantly amused. “You are all impossible.” Really, these Nephilim would be the death of him. “Okay. There is something else I could try.”

Something that could’ve helped before, if it wasn’t for Lorenzo’s threat.

It was time to call in all his favors - this time, way out of Lorenzo’s jurisdiction.

~*~

It has been five months since the last time he was at Pandemonium during its ‘closed’ hours. That day, he had decided to leave New York – maybe for good. Now, he wanted nothing more to stay.

Some days later, the danger Jonathan imposed also met its end.

They could finally breathe and rest.

They took turns to get days off. First Izzy with Simon, then Jace and Clary – and finally, Magnus took Alec as far away as he could.

They had a very long (and very overdue) talk about everything – Magnus’ magic, his terrible coping mechanisms, Alec’s deal with Asmodeus, their relationship, communication.

There were a lot of tears. Hugs. Kisses. Reassurances.

Sex.

And if they stayed a bit longer away from New York, well – nobody dared to say anything.

Now, Magnus was at Pandemonium once more, reminiscing about everything that happened since that very first night, when Alec, Jace, Isabelle and Clary had stormed into his life.

Distracted as he was, he barely registered an arrow flying over his shoulder.

Immediately, he called upon his magic, ready to fight – but when he turned around, what he saw made his heart beat faster in an entirely different way, his magic flickering out again.

Alec was there, bow in hand, standing at the stairs leading to the upper floor.

Exactly like that night. Exactly like when he had killed that Circle member, and saved Magnus’ life.

Giving Magnus a crooked smile, Alec climbed down the stairs and put aside his bow.

“Oh? I never took him for the romantic type.”

Alec shrugged, trying to not grin. He finally got closer to Magnus and kissed him sweetly, just a slow and lingering slide of lips.

“I asked you to come here today because this,” he gestured to the club, “is our first place. Where our lives got intertwined. So… there isn’t a better place to ask you for another first.”

He took a small velvet box from his jacket pocket and opened it, revealing the Lightwood ring. Licking his lips, he braced himself and looked at Magnus.

Really looked.

And it was intense enough for Magnus to drop his glamour, as the realization of what was about to happen crashed down on his mind. Big, warm, golden cat-eyes looked back at Alec, full of adoration.

“Magnus, will you give me the honor of being my first, my only love, for the time we get to share? Magnus Bane, will you marry me?”

And in all Magnus’ centuries, saying a simple, three-letter word had never seemed so peaceful, so easy.

“Yes.”

#mirrorofliterature #malecsanta19 #*fics19 #*gifts19

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tootiredtm · 5 years

Note

‘It was you, it was always you, and I was so blind.....’

✧ / *shrug emoji x1000* / @heartstrcng : sebastian morrow.

the room was filled with soft laughter, suppressed giggles and the rustling of sheets. the two of them had been wrestling, or in other words, sebastian had been letting kassy push him around while he rolled his eyes and played along to her occasional burst of energy. now the two were laid back on the bed, sebastian on his back while kassy laid like a starfish atop him. her head rested on his chest as she grinned lazily, nuzzling her face against his bare skin—she could feel the exhaustion slowly sinking into her bones which was never anything new but over the past few months it had been a lot heavier than usual. sebastian had been going through what seemed like the roughest patch of his life so far and it was the first time ever that kassy thought she wouldn’t be able to help him—that no matter what she did, it didn’t matter, it didn’t help, it maybe even hindered. she wasn’t used to it and it exhausted her, yet she never gave up, she pushed herself to be there for any and every second he needed her, even if he wouldn’t openly admit it. the hours of sleep she had gotten had dwindled and that along with the heaviness of sebs despair, it left her more emotional than she was used to. it was a rollercoaster, the highs and lows of sebastian’s life, holding onto him for dear life, not because she was afraid of what would happen to her but him. he had already been through so much in only the first decade and a few years of life that when this happened.. kassy didn’t know what to do. her heart bled for him as emotions strung high for her, anger, sorrow, hate, helplessness. it was that helplessness that really hit her hard. never being in love with someone she couldn’t understand his problem, couldn’t understand why he couldn’t just hate the man and move on. she had been terrified for him, seeing him get worse and worse, then only to admit he was tempted to end his life. that was the moment when she realized that without him, her life would be meaningless. that kassy wouldn’t want to continue on in her own life if he wasn’t there by her side. without him she’d be less then half of herself, he was her soul, he was her happiness, her sadness, her joy and anger. he brought her excitement and the closest thing to love she’d ever be able to feel. so if he chose to go? she’d choose to follow him. but that was days ago, the get away had been off to a rough start sure but her heart soared in her chest as she clung to him, a soft laugh escaping her lips as he playfully wiggled beneath her before rolling them. dark eyes opened lazily, her hair in disarray as it framed her heart-shaped face. hands raised to rest on his back, running down it to playfully pat his bum, a questioning gaze displayed openly across her face. then it was as if he’d opened his eyes for the first time, the soft amusement in those brilliant blue eyes of him being replaced with an emotion kassy couldn’t quite put her finger on. perhaps as if a realization hit him. it caused kassy to cock her head, hands slipping from his behind to raise and cup his cheeks. “ what’s that look for? ” she asked, lazy amusement still in her tone, trying to mask the curiosity that seeped in. “ what’s going on in that head of yours…? ” she smiled at him, a more genuine one as a brow rose and she leaned up to nip at his nose.

it was you… it was always you…. i was so blind…

lips parted as brows furrowed, confusion easy to see on her face as she blinked. what was he talking about? she thought to herself but it was only a front because deep down she knew what he was talking about… and it scared her. scared her because it unwrapped the feelings she’d been unable to put a name on over the past couple months, an explanation to why she did the things she did. swallowing, long lashes fell to mask the mix of emotions in her eyes. what was she supposed to say to that? her heart ached in her chest, swelling so badly it felt like it was going to explode and her fingers brushed over her best friends cheeks. best friend. the two words she’d been describing sebastian as since they were all but kids. through puberty, through helping him with his trauma, through all of this. and yet, it had never felt like enough. like it wasn’t as strong as her feelings for him were. they had always been platonic even when things had escalated but recently she couldn’t quite convince herself they were—not on her end. looking up at him, kassy shifted a little, hands sliding from his face into his hair, nails lightly dragging along his scalp gently as she fought her mind for a response. fighting on how she wanted to answer him, how she should—snarky? confused? honest? dark eyes shined up at him as her smile turned soft, the confusion, the need for clarification still in her eyes as she pursed her lips. “ what does that mean, seb..? ” she asked even as she drew him down closer to her, gaze flickering from his lips and back, her own parting as she leaned up to meet him half way, brushing them softly over his.

#suicide mention /#long post /#i hate it xD #heartstrcng #✧ / answered ask.#✧ / you are the best of me. / sebastian. / deathvisited.

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officialhexrpg · 6 years

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Arts & Graphics: October’s Writing Challenge Winner!

October's theme for the Arts and Graphics forum on HEXRPG was the Day of the Dead! In this challenge, writers had to write from the point of view of a deceased canon Harry Potter character.

1st Place - Chantoya Johnson

A sad smile was gracing Tonks face, when she spotted a familiar figure approaching her eternal resting place. The forked path leading to her gravestone was buried in fallen leaves and with each step that crushed them beneath the weight of her visitor, Tonks was reminded of the crackling fire that lit up the Hufflepuff Common Room. Out of habit, slender fingers began to move towards her unruly hair in an unconscious attempt to smooth it down a bit. Her mother had always had this effect on her and it seemed like even being on the other side of the veil of death was not enough to dull Andromeda Tonks’s imposing presence. But the cruel burdens life kept throwing at her mother were apparently taking a heavy toll on the witch if the dark rings underneath her glassy eyes were any indication. Blank-faced, Andromeda Tonks was staring at the headstone, whose polished surface was gleaming in the sunlight. “Hello Nymphadora,” the weary witch said quietly, her voice croaky and so unlike her. Tonks grimaced. Partly because her mother still insisted to use her first name and partly, because it hurt her deeply to see the woman who had always seemed so invincible to her in such a sorry state. Andromeda Tonks was only a shell of her former self, filled to the brim with darkness and despair. “Mother,” Tonks said breathlessly, feeling suffocated by the onslaught of emotions that swept over her. Pain. Regret. Anger. Guilt. “I’ve brought you something.” And with these words, the older woman pulled something out of the black leather bag that Tonks had gifted to her a few years ago. It was a picture and Tonks could have sworn her eyes had begun to moisten, when she saw who was depicted on it. A small baby boy with bright blue hair and a happy smile on his face. “Teddy,” Tonks whispered. A pang of longing and regret coursing through her soul. But the joy and love she felt far outweighed the negative emotions. It took her a while, before she managed to tear away her eyes from the picture of her son in order to look once more at the woman in front of her. And suddenly, her voice sounded just as hoarse as her mother’s had been. “Thank you, mum. Thank you.” Andromeda placed the framed picture next to the many other offerings that had been left after her funeral. Her gravesite was colourful and messy. But her mother had never bothered to tidy it up. At first Tonks had been surprised by this, since her mother had always been an orderly person, who forced her husband and daughter to maintain a certain degree of orderliness as well. But there came a day, when Tonks was finally able to understand what was going on. Her mum had left the place in disarray, because it screamed Tonks. Chaos was lively and this was her mother’s way of preserving her memory. Tonks had been moved to tears by this. Tears that never fell, because outward expression of grief were reserved for the living. “I miss you, my little shooting star,” Andromeda suddenly said and Tonks swallowed heavily. “I miss you, too, mum. I’m sorry.” It was her fault that her mother had to go through this pain. She had insisted on fighting in the final battle after all, which had gotten her killed and while she did not regret doing what’s right, because she had helped bring forth a world where her son would hopefully never have to experience the horror of war, a small part of her felt bitter and angry. Tonks could not deny that she would have given anything to be able to raise her son and be there for him on his journey to adulthood and beyond. Sure, he had his grandmother and godfather. But it was not the same. It never would be the same. Tonks had robbed him of a life with at least one parent present. It felt like a great injustice to her, because she had grown up with two loving parents. So why had her son been denied the same? Why did Remus have to die as well? Tonks shook her head and tried to chase the dark thoughts away. She couldn’t say that she was very successful, but the sound of approaching footsteps pulled her out of her musings. Mother and daughter both turned their heads into the direction of the person that was getting closer to Tonks’ grave. It was a young teenager with purple coloured hair and Tonks breathed in sharply. Of all the people that had to come to the cemetery, while her mother was visiting her, it had to be the Muggle girl, whose grandparents were buried close by, and who looked so much like Tonks herself. And her mother had noticed the similarity as well it seemed. Andromeda’s eyes had widened comically and a loud gasp escaped from her lips. Tonks winced at the thought. The girl looked at her mother curiously. Probably put off by the creepy staring. Or maybe not. With bold steps, the teenager headed directly towards the older woman that could not take her eyes off of her. “Is there a problem? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” The girl asked in a slightly aggressive tone, arms crossed in front of her chest, eyebrows raised. Tonks snorted in amusement. Teenagers could be so dramatic sometimes. Her mother seemed to think so as well. “I’m sorry. You just reminded me of someone very precious to me,” Andromeda said with a tearful chuckle and the teenager suddenly seemed to be conflicted. Her blue eyes looked at the headstone the witch was standing next to and she must have realised that the strange woman was visiting said someone. “I’m sorry for your loss,” the girl said quietly, sympathy apparent in her expression. But also curiosity. “My daughter also liked to colour her hair,” Andromeda added without being prompted. “A bright pink.” The girl nodded, before a playful smirk formed on her lips. “Your daughter’s got style then.” And Andromeda laughed in response. It was the first time that Tonks had seen her mother laugh in months. She had almost forgotten what happiness sounded like. It was so bright and light.

#hexrpg.com #HEXRPG #f: ag #w: writing challenge #d: October 2018

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maki-and-sushi · 7 years

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DRV3 Boys being accused of killing their S/O

I really like this idea, i really enjoy delving into a character’s raw emotional reaction for theese sorts of things. Thanks for the prompt! -Mod Katie

Warnings:(pretty detailed) descriptions of violence, and language. also, your (mostly detailed) cause of death.

Gonta Gokuhara

Gonta gets mad. very mad.

your death was taking a big toll on him. he was crying and he couldn’t even bring himself to investigate. it felt like all the joy in the world had been sucked out. all his hope for the future, all his dreams of getting out of this alive with you, building a life with you, all…..gone

he loved you! couldn’t they see that?

and the way you had died had been….messy.

you had been found with your head smashed in, at the bottom of the pool.

did they really think him capable of such violence?

throughout the trial, when people accuse him, it takes everything he has to not start yelling.

instead, he cries.

he cries because that’s the only thing he feels like he’s good for.

he couldent protect you

he couldent defend himself

gonta felt useless.

it’s only after shuichi proves his innocence (and angie’s guilt) that he manages to stop crying

gonta hates violence he really, really does.

but he’s glad angie is getting what she deserves.

K1-B0

when the first accusation comes out, he is mostly surprised.

the accusation is…flimsy, at best.

he soon identifies his other emotions as confused and sad.

he is sad you are gone, that much he know for certain. you were different from anybody else he had ever met. you took him as he was, robot and all.

you always seemed to have an answer for any question he had about humans. you were patient in explaining things, and kind to him. you treated him as if he were flesh and blood, when others treated him as nothing more than a computer.

And confusion… why would anyone think he was able to do what was done to you?

you had been hung from the roof of the library, tied into a position that reminded him of fertility idols….but the way you had been treated was far from god-like. multiple lacerations, all over your body, and precise slices at key arteries. the positioning of your body led shuichi to a solid conclusion on what happened. the lack of clothes on your body only confirmed it.

He was a robot. as similar as he was to a typical male, there were a few …distinct differences that clearly ruled him out.

so why had korekiyo accused him?

when it came to light how flimsy his accusation was, others quickly turned their suspicion on korekiyo. a few heated arguments later, a shameless korekiyo was condemned to suffer the fate of the blackened.

but kiibo still didn’t understand why he wanted to inflict violence, even after the execution.

he doesn’t think he ever will.

Kaito Momota

oh hell no

kaito momota, luminary of the stars, was not about to stand for someone accusing him of murdering his S/O.

even as shuichi and maki rushed to defend him, he felt anger welling within him

“Listen here you asshole! I loved them with all my heart! I loved them more than ALL OF THE STARS! SO HOw could you think that I- ?”

he coulden’t even fish the sentence without tears threatening to fall and his throat welling shut.

he loved you, and everyone here knew it, so whoever thought otherwise was going to fight him.

a small part of him could understand why someone might think he had done it. after all, your body being found in the library, with fabic from his coat under your nails? the very same coat you were strangled with? that was a lot of evidence against him

but that was no excuse. he had an alibi, and someone was obviously trying to set him up. and when he found out who? he was going to kill them with his bear hands.

but when evidence came to light that started to point towards maki….he coulden’t help the despair rising within him.

Maki roll? wha- why had maki-roll even considered-

“because I thought I had overheard her planning to kill you kaito.”

at those words, it dawned on him with rising horror what she had heard.

It was a stupid joke mui had told about how easy it would be to kill him. Mui however had gotten a few scenarios wildly out of reality, and you, ever the nit-pick, had tried to correct her by giving her some more realistic plans. you and mui were close, so you had thought nothing of how it would sound to an outsider. you and mui had laughed it off, and later recounted to kaito in amused fashion how wild mui fantasies could be, but he had never thought that someone would take you seriously, I mean, even your plans were a bit wild, so why-

but that didn’t matter now.

because with one final tearful, ashamed look at him, maki walked to her execution.

because in one fell swoop, one precise punch to his gut, he loses two people he cares about.

Kokichi Ouma

he’s always been a good liar, so when someone first accuses him, he takes it in stride. after all, everyone has accused him at least once before, so why not now, too?

he tells himself that he doesn’t care, that just because they’re all idiotsdoesn’t mean he actually-

that he could even be capable of-

that he had anything to do-

he cant bring himself to finish the thought. because he knows that none of it would have happened if it haden’t been for him.

if he haden’t antagonized the wrong person, if he haden’t pissed someone off then-

then you would still be alive.

it really was his fault, huh?

so when he finds himself accused, he can’t bring himself to deny it. sure, he knows he isn’t directly guilty of the crime they think he is, and sure, he knows that not saying anything will lead to them voting him as the blackened, and because he didn’t actually do it, all of them dying…

but he can’t bring himself to care. but with a surge of petty grief, he finds he wants to drag them all down with him.

and so that’s exactly what he does.

it’s kind of funny, how quickly their faces turn from contempt for him, to fear for their lives as they see the bright red ‘X’ on the screen, over his face.

and even as they are all dragged away, with a gleeful tsmugi watching, he can’t bring himself to stop smiling or stop crying.

Korekiyo Shinguji

he knew this point would come.

he doesn’t regret it.

every moment you spent gracing him with your presence was a blessing to him. you were so good, so pure, and so kind.

the perfect companion for sister. the best yet, even.

he can’t bring himself to something decent, like shame, or something human, like guilt.

no, he can only bring himself to joy, knowing that he was about to reunite with his beloved sister, and his beloved S/O. The 100th kill.

he faced his death with open arms and a glad smile.

Rantaro Amami

Rantaro doesn’t really have time for this bullshit, to be perfectly honest.

he’s already closing in on the culprit in his mind, analyzing and re-analyzing everything in his brain about the case so he can catch the low-life fucking scum that killed you.

it hasn’t really kicked in for him that you are dead, yet..

but after the trial, alone in his room, he breaks down in tears.

he can’t bring himself to eat or sleep or do anything besides mope and cry. he feels like his whole world is caving in.

and worse yet, he can’t stop thinking about how they found your body. (it’s part of the reason he can’t sleep)

how you were pale and cold, your face struck with terror and fear. how, if you were alive, you looked seconds away from calling out for him. like how you did whenever you got scared.

they had found you in a dark room. you were always terrified of the dark.

At least the monokuma file said the killing blow was the only blow, meaning you hadn’t suffered much physical pain. Not like your killer, Mui, who had been electrocuted to death by her own inventions in her own sick execution.

all this death. he coulden’t close his eyes without seeing your face or mui’s, staring, screaming, crying…..

he was getting tired of all this death.

Ryoma Hoshi

He really can’t bring himself to care about his own life anymore.

he always warned you that being around a criminal like him was going to get you hurt, but you always seemed to smile and brush it off, saying that you could take it.

he had almost started believing nothing would happen.

heh.

I guess that’s what he deserves, huh?

While he wants to rise up and fight for your name, to take justice into his own hands and kill whoever had done the same to you…..

he was just tired.

tired of the hurt, tired of the depression that seemed to follow him like a heavy cloud. You had been the only break in the clouds, with your piercing eyes and sunshine smile. you had been the one to greet him every morning, and hang out with him every chance you had. you had started to defend him when others picked on him for his height, and making sure to invite him to every group activity that happened. And every time, he asked why you would always respond:

“because I like you, ryoma!”

but now you were gone, and your sunshine faded.

he couldn’t deal with this life anymore

he couldn’t function.

he was tired of opening himself up only to be hurt.

let them accuse him. let them kill him.

he didn’t care anymore.

Shuichi Saihara

nope.

he shoots them down as quick as they come up.

which in turn, makes him a little more suspicious, but he manages to find the real culprit without too much difficulty.

he condemns them with startling accuracy and precise words. gone is any trace of hesitance from his voice.

he felt high on adrenalin, like he was untouchable.

but after the trial, with not only you, but kirigiri removed from his life forever, he breaks down.

he had thought kirigiri was a friend, even if they weren’t that close. and you…

you had always been kind to kirigiri, trying to save her from work whenever possible. sometimes even making her gifts or food, so she wouldn’t forget to eat.

and how did she repay that?

by poisoning you and leaving your body in the dining hall for all to see.

everyone knew you tried to be self sufficient, and didn’t ask kirigiri for anything, so people had assumed at first that you had suffered from an allergic reaction. it was only because shuichi knew you weren’t allergic to anything besides pine that he was able to discover the neatly hidden bottle of poison in kirigiri’s lab amongst the cleaning chemicals.

he had a hard time trusting after your death.

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fandoms-equal-life · 6 years

Text

Rewriting Their Stars Once Again - The Greatest Showman Fanfiction

Chapter 5: Consequences

Originally Posted on Ao3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13365846/chapters/40766627#workskin

Summary:

What happened in the office? What will happen between Anne and Phillip after the hoop incident?

Notes:

Guess who's back?

IT'S ME BITCHES!!!

I know it's been awhile. But I promise that I will post once a week until I am done with this story. Writing gives me so much joy and it is one of my new year goals to write more. I hope you enjoy this chapter and I PROMISE there is more to come. Thank you for waiting.

I am pretty active on my Tumblr if we share common interests! My url is http://fandoms-equal-life.tumblr.com

Follow me for lots of trash!

Chapter Five: Consequences

Phillip is standing alone in the ring, with the hoop Anne was just suspended, in a pathetic heap on the floor.

He cannot believe he had accused Anne of having a death wish, right after the doctor’s appointment.

He cannot believe that P.T. found out his secret, right after the doctor’s appointment.

He does not know what to do with himself.

Phillip knew that it was a risk letting P.T. have full range of his office today. He missed the first doctor’s appointment, and after the last month of misery, he wanted to be by Anne’s side. Now he is regretting that decision.

On the way to the circus, Phillip realized he left his accounting book in one of the drawers of his desk, rather than behind the bookshelf where he normally hides it. Yesterday, Lettie had knocked on the door to ask him for a day off next week, and he hurriedly placed the book in the drawer so she would not see it. Right as she was leaving, Tom burst in the door with a horse related problem, which Phillip had to deal with; therefore, forgetting the book.

Phillip prayed P.T. would not find it, and if he did, he would ignore it. It is a plain black, leather book, boring enough.

His wish, like many others today, had not been granted.

Phillip rushed to his office after Anne stormed into the circus, deciding he would talk to her after hiding the book. When he walked into his office, P.T. was sitting at Phillip’s desk, holding the accounting book in his hand.

The first words that came out of Phillip’s mouth was not “I’m sorry” or “I can explain.” It was instead,

“Shit!”

P.T. was angry due to this new discovery and by what Phillip had said. He stood up, stating, “Phillip, what have you done to the circus? How did it get this bad? I trusted you with my creation and look what you did!”

After everything that happened today, this was only adding to Phillip’s rage. “Look what I did? YOU left me alone to deal with it. I was honored when you gave me the circus, but we were partners when you were in charge, and now I am completely alone! And I hate to say this, but we’re not as popular as we were after the fire, people have come and gone, now we’re old news! But I didn’t want that burden on the circus. We worked hard to accept ourselves and each other, and I refused to let money be the reason that everything fell apart for my family. And on top of that, Anne has been so sick and miserable through her pregnancy, which is because she is having triplets, meaning the life of her and our babies is in jeopardy along with the circus!”

As Phillip shouted at P.T., he paced the room, not looking at him. P.T. did not realize what Phillip had on his shoulders. When he ran the circus, he was careless before the fire, and had different motives than Phillip does now. P.T. went to apologize and console Phillip, but Phillip stormed out before he had the chance.

Phillip had the intent to find Anne and go home, to deal with the babies instead of the circus. But when he saw her suspended ten feet in the air, her pregnant belly obvious, Phillip’s anger got the best of him and he yelled at Anne. He should have known better, you never break the concentration of an acrobat, their focus is a key part of their act. When Anne lost her hold on the rope and started to fall, Phillip jumped for it, catching her just in time.

The second time that day the first words out of his mouth were not what was necessary. Instead they were angry, accusatory, and mean spirited.

It broke his heart when she stormed out of the tent, leaving Phillip alone and full of regret. He fell to his knees in anguish.

Charity, who watched from the shadows, went up and knelt next to Phillip. He didn’t look up at her.

“Phillip, I realize there is so much on your shoulders at the moment, I heard everything in the office, but you can ask for help. We are your family. No matter what. The circus’s financial problems are not your fault. We are a business after a family, and problems come with a business.

“While Anne’s current state is technically your fault,” Charity says with an amused smile, “this is the best thing that will ever happen to you two. When I was pregnant with Caroline, P.T. was worried out of his mind. He was always in between jobs, money wasn’t always there, and he didn’t know if he wanted to bring something so pure into a cruel world. But when he held Caroline in his arms for the first time, nothing could touch him. Not money, not jobs, not the world. When your children are in your arms, you will feel the same.”

Phillip finally looked up at Charity. She smiled at him, a sad smile, but he saw the hope in her eyes.

“You go after Anne, I’ll deal with Phineas. I suppose she’ll be at the docks. I used to find her out there when you guys would have an argument after a show,” Charity informed him.

“Thank you, Charity, for everything,” was all Phillip said before he ran out of the tent to find Anne.

Charity stood up, smiled at the tent curtains after they settled in Phillip’s rush, and went to go find her husband.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anne could not believe her ears at Phillip’s words. He really thought that she would purposely bring harm to the babies inside her.

She ran fast out the tent, not wanting to see his angry face any longer. She let her legs carry her to the docks. When she got to the edge of the dock, she sat down, breathing in the ocean air and smoke from the boats around her.

Anne did not realize how scared she really was. She had three heartbeats in her. Her body is supposed to grow three little lives. Anne really never thought she would have to grow one. She never thought she would have children. The world is cruel and the tension due to race is only growing stronger. Anne is about to bring three children into the world that go against the majority’s beliefs.

While in this train of thought, Phillip approached from behind. She sensed him immediately. She stood up and turned to face him.

His eyes were sad and shining with tears. After all these years she could tell that he was sorry for what he said. Despite her anger, Anne could not bear it anymore. She ran into him, burying her head into his chest.

“Phillip, I am sorry I went up in that hoop. You were right, it was dangerous, especially after hearing the news. I just wanted to escape. Escape the sickness, the stares from people as they look at us walking through the street, my stomach attracting so much attention. I never realized what we were really doing when I got pregnant. We are bringing children into a world of judgement and hate, and it brought me to despair. That is why I wanted to escape, to have a taste of what my life was like before them,” she says gesturing toward her stomach.

“There is no need to apologize Anne,” Phillip says into her hair. “I’m so sorry, for everything. For what I said in the ring, for what you have had to endure, for the letting you carry this emotional weight alone, and for everything else I have to tell you about the circus,” Phillip said with sad eyes.

Anne looked up him, “What about the circus?”

Phillip explained the financial problems, about the lessening crowds, the lies he has told, the Sundays spent working and worrying, and how he has been dipping into his savings. Anne kept her arms wrapped around him for the entire talk. When he was finished, she wiped a tear that was falling down his cheek, after finally telling her his secret.

“Oh Phillip, I wish you had told me sooner. I think we both need to realize that the hardest things in life are better handled as a pair, we don’t need to carry our burdens ourselves. That is the luxury of love, you have someone to carry it with you.” Anne said, smiling.

“You’re right. You’re always right.” Phillip said. “What is our next step, love?”

“We need to tell the circus about the financial problems, and the triplets. That life is going to have to change around the circus, in more ways than one.” Anne stated. “But it will be fine, as long as we have each other, and our family in that tent.”

Chapters 1 ~ 2 ~ 3 ~ 4 ~ 6 ~ 7 ~ 8 ~ 9 ~ 10 ~ 11

#the greatest showman #phillip carlyle #anne wheeler #Phillip x anne #pt barnum #my fanfics

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