#like ge takes a second to think about it before perking up and leaving just to grab a 5-year-old Rose and proudly showing her off

[ilivelikeimtrying]

Random person: Oh, so you're a perfectionist? Show me one thing you made that was actually perfect.

Ambrosius: *sets his baby girl, Rose, gently down in front of them*

Ambrosius: Ta-da!

[tranquil-turbulence]

SasuSaku Month ‘22 Day 8

Day 7 | Day 9

Day 8 Prompt: Treat

Modern AU

"Okay then, here you go. Small sips, okay?"

"Thank you, Doctor Haruno ma’am!"

Sasuke's ears perked up as he heard his daughter's happy voice, and as he walked back into the room his eyes widened slightly as he saw an unfamiliar pink-haired woman in a knee-length white coat hold out to her what he swore was the largest plastic cup he'd ever seen and a straw poking out the top of the lid.

"What is that?" He questioned, pointing at the drink.

Sarada's sweet little face beamed up at him, and she proudly grinned as she stated, "Strawberry milkshake!"

"You can't have that, you remember, right?" His voice turned stern as he took several steps towards the bed. Almost immediately her shoulders drooped and she looked sadly at the cup. "You're--"

"Lactose intolerant, I'm aware," the doctor's cool voice interrupted him, and as he looked up at her, her own face was set in a disapproving frown. "I read her charts several times, sir. I made sure it was made without dairy."

"Doctor Haruno says that I can have some because I've been a good girl," Sarada chimed in, looking up at the woman as if she was a superhero in the flesh. "Right?"

"Of course, sweetheart." Her face immediately softened and she reached out to pet his daughter's straight black hair. "You've been a very good girl, letting my staff run more tests on you."

Sasuke watched the interaction, his heart painfully squeezing in his chest as he noted how tenderly the woman treated the little girl. Sarada's fragile frame was puffed up in pride as she patted her head, adjusting her glasses and helping her hold the cold cup.

Had it only been two years since his wife had died, leaving him with his then three-year-old daughter? It still didn't seem real; every day he went back home, expecting to see her standing at the door with a bright smile and a hug.

Sarada had seemed to bounce back from the loss well enough - though he knew he shouldn't expect a child that young to feel such a loss as keenly as he had. Even now, as she grew sicker, she seemed her usual cheerful self.

She certainly didn't get that from me, he noted as she slurped the drink with delight in her eyes.

The doctor flipped through the clipboard she held, scanning the pages before looking back up at him with a faint smile. "I apologize for my rudeness. I'm Doctor Haruno, overseeing your daughter's treatment."

"Ah." He nodded slowly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I'm Sasuke. Her father."

"Uchiha Sasuke, pleasure to meet you." Her voice was warm, much more so than it had been only a minute ago. As she stuck out a hand, he was struck with how calloused and rough it looked.

He stared at it for a second before taking out his left hand and grasping it in his bigger hand. Her skin felt as rough as it looked - and he mentally winced at the feeling.

What, does she not moisturize? He thought snidely for a fleeting moment. But as he observed her more, he tucked that thought away as  he noticed the bags under her eyes and the pale, almost sickly quality to her skin.

"I trust my daughter isn't too ill?" He said instead, choosing instead to try and not think about the pretty woman standing before him, just barely level to his chin.

The polite smile wavered for a moment, but she reinforced it as she shook her head, going back through the papers on the clipboard. "Not that we know of so far. We seem to be observing a bit of a disturbance around her occipital lobe; we'll need to do some more scans to figure out just what it is."

"What do you think it is?" He challenged quietly, dark eyes flickering between the little girl and the doctor.

Doctor Haruno paused, eyes widening a fraction in what seemed like surprise. It almost seemed like nobody had asked her that question before.

Her vivid green eyes looked back down at the paper for a moment, before she straightened and turned to Sarada, giving her a sweet smile.

"Sweetie, your dad and I are going to talk by the door." Her voice grew softer, more gentle as she spoke to the little girl. "We aren't going anywhere, okay?"

"Okay!" Her impossibly-bright face made the woman chuckle, fondly patting her head again.

With her shoulder she motioned to head away from the bed, and Sasuke gave her one last smile before following Doctor Haruno until the privacy curtain shielded them from the girl's view.

The pinkette's smile dropped almost immediately and her eyes shone with a seriousness that made the man's pulse stutter.

"You want to know what I think?" She asked rhetorically. "Well... based on the symptoms described upon admission - visual disturbances, irritability, headache, nausea, gradual loss of sight," she paused and grimaced, "seizures - I believe we may be dealing with a tumor.”

The news struck the father like a stone. His heart seemed to freeze in his chest as he fought the urge to peek around the curtain back at Sarada - and only the doctor's hand on his shoulder kept him rooted to the spot.

"We deal with brain tumors in children more than you'd expect, Mr. Uchiha," she explained with a sympathetic quirk of her lips. "My staff is the best trained in the country to deal with this. I believe-- no, I know your little girl with be walking out of this hospital tumor-free."

Her hand was warm, though all he felt was cold. "How could this have happened?" He asked before he could register the words tumbling from his lips. "I thought... we were... she's healthy. Sarada is healthy."

"You don't have to be diseased or already injured to figure out you've got a tumor on your brain," the woman answered quietly, tapping her temple. "You did nothing wrong. Sarada is just as healthy as she was before she began manifesting symptoms."

"Healthy with a brain tumor," he spat, and the words felt like acid on his tongue.

"Mr. Uchiha," she started, and the stern look on her face made his heart squeeze again. "What Sarada needs right now is for her father to be strong. She's just five; she has no idea about what this means nor what's happening to her as a result. For all she knows, she's very hurt, she doesn’t understand why or how, and her father is scared of something he knows that she doesn’t. That’s terrifying for someone so young."

He tried to speak. His lips felt glued shut as he stared into her face.

"I've had plenty of children with brain tumors - hell, I had one little girl with brain cancer that ended up dying as a result of it. Nothing we could do could save her; she was too far gone by the time we were able to begin treatment." Angry tears pricked the corners of her eyes, and she didn't even skip a beat as she wiped them with her sleeve and poked him in the chest. "If you can't even show her that she's gonna be okay, you're only going to make it worse in the long run. You can be upset - I've had parents who have had full breakdowns when I gave them the diagnosis. But don't let it consume you. Don't let her see you break."

She poked him again for good measure, and after a moment her eyes softened and she patted the spot.

Sasuke could only close his eyes, head tilting downwards.

"I really am sorry for what she has to go through, Mr. Uchiha," Doctor Haruno murmured. "There's a much higher chance for the mass to be benign rather than malignant. Luckily it's still small enough that she will suffer minimal consequences. Don't think of it as a death knell. Think of it as another challenge to hurdle."

His former wife's face flashed through his mind's eye at her words, and he took a shaky breath. He could feel the emotion rising in his throat and the last thing he needed was to break down in front of someone he had only met several minutes prior.

"Sarada... you told me she was a fighter, right?"

He nodded, not trusting his own voice to remain steady.

When he opened his eyes, Doctor Haruno's face was set with a determined smile.

"Then mark my words: I don't see her losing this one."

His heart flipped again, and as he parted his lips to speak but was interrupted by Sarada's call, "Doctor Haruno! I finished my milkshake and boy my head hurts!"'

The comment was so out of the blue that it cut through the tension like a knife. After a second of surprise, the woman held a fist up to her mouth as her shoulders began to shake with silent laughter.

The peals of laughter began to grow louder as she staggered her way back into the room, and at the sight of his little girl giggling back, he began to relax.

Maybe things would turn out alright.

[littlemisspascal]

Death and an Angel part 9

Helmetless + Death!Din x Cupid F!Reader

Summary:  You make a promise to Din before you leave to meet with your superiors, but will you be able to keep it?

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,976

Warnings: fluff, the angst is back people, protective and possessive Din, your superiors are assholes, overuse of italics, swearing, plot plot plot

Author Note: All the love to every single supporter out there! Don’t hate me too much for this segment please.

Links to Part 1 and Part 8 and Part 10

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

“I’m going with you, angel.”

In exactly one hour, you’re due to report back to headquarters. You’ve been loathing this meeting from the get-go, but now, after being matched with Din, the mere thought of leaving him is as painful as a physical blow. You wish you had more time to revel in his heated kisses, the touch of his hands against your skin, the low growls he elicits when you run your nails through his curls.

Deep down, you know as immortal beings you will have an eternity to experience all of these thrills together. But right now the bond you two share as soulmates doesn’t care about the future, only the present. In your mind, it resembles a sapling soaking up every ounce of affection it can from you and Din, craving more and more intimacy in order to become stronger. Just thinking about being separated from him, even for only a short while, makes your chest hurt something fierce, as if a bundle of thorns has become wrapped around your heart.

Din is not immune to the effects of the soulmate bond either. Since his return to Arvala-7 he has not let you out of his sight for longer than thirty seconds. Anyone else, you would have been annoyed by the incessant staring, but with Din you only feel desired and, as sappy as it sounds, cherished in a way you’ve never felt before.

Which makes it all the harder to meet his gaze right now, frowning as you shake your head at him.

“Din, you can’t,” you say quietly, praying your voice doesn’t break because you know it will trigger his overprotectiveness and then you’ll helplessly melt into a puddle of warm emotions. “Only Cupids are allowed at headquarters. No outsiders allowed, not even Death.”

His jaw clenches, displeased by your rebuttal, but his fingers are gentle as they trail across your cheeks. That’s another thing you’ve noticed since he’s reunited with you: his gloves have yet to make a reappearance. It’s like now that you and the universe have assured him of your requited feelings, his iron walls of self-control have crumbled to dust, revealing a lonely, touch-starved soul who has long been told he could never physically connect with someone without the risk of killing them and is now desperate to make up for the lost time.

With this in mind, each time he initiates contact, you always make sure to return the gesture with as much affection as you can muster, whether that be by deepening his kisses or by intertwining your fingers tightly with his when he reaches for your hand. Or, such as in this instance where the two of you are lying together and cuddling on Kuiil’s bed, you take advantage of him having removed his full suit of armor to curl closer against his chest, nuzzling your head beneath his chin.

The Ugnaught had taken Din’s return in stride when he and IG-11 had paused their farmwork outside to check up on you about twenty minutes ago. Upon seeing them, Din had started to untangle himself from you so he could stand to greet them. His lack of urgency to conceal his face surprised you initially, but then you recalled Kuiil already knew Din resembled a human male, meaning at some point during their friendship Din had become comfortable enough to not wear his helmet around him. Petty jealousy swirls inside of you, upset you’re not the only one who knows Death’s true face, but you squash the ridiculous emotion not even a second later. If anyone is worthy enough of seeing Din’s true self, it’s Kuiil.

Before Din could get to his feet, Kuiil had merely shaken his head, saying he didn’t want to interrupt your time together when he knew you had to leave soon. Which is what prompted Din to insist upon himself accompanying you to headquarters.

“I don’t want you anywhere near those bastards,” he mutters darkly, lines of frustration forming ridges along his forehead. He still hasn't forgiven Hess for causing you to have a panic attack.

You wrap your fingers around his wrist, not with the intention of stopping his soothing ministrations, but instead grounding yourself in the moment using the skin-on-skin contact. Perhaps, you acknowledge privately to yourself, he’s not the only touch-starved soul in the room. I don’t want to be near them either, you want to tell him. Let’s fly away together on the Crest, somewhere far, far away...

Instead, you force yourself to say with the same carefully even tone, “The meeting should just be an hour or two, then they’ll make me take a reassessment test about Cupid regulations which I’ll pass easily.” You lift your head to peck the bridge of his prominent nose before holding up your pinky finger. “And by later this evening, I’ll be right back here in your arms. Pinky promise.”

Din stares at you for several heartbeats, stubbornness lingering in his gaze before at last he exhales a quiet sigh of surrender. He wraps his pinky around yours, squeezing tightly.

“I thought leaving you behind here was the hardest thing I’d ever have to do, but this—letting you go face them alone and knowing I can’t intervene—it’s a pain I’d only wish upon my worst enemies.”

You want to say something lighthearted, a teasing remark to ease the heavy tension in the room and make that stunning smile of his light up the space instead. Maybe, if you’re funny enough, you can make his precious and lone dimple appear in his cheek so you can press your lips to it. But your words get trapped in your throat, forming a lump that won’t go down no matter how hard you swallow.

You are equally as surprised as you are grateful when Din continues to speak.

“You’re my soulmate, angel, so when I swear these next words to you, I want you to have no doubt I mean them with absolute sincerity,” he says, a possessive and darkly seductive note creeping into his voice that has you instinctively biting your lip to keep yourself from moaning embarrassingly. “If anyone dares to keep you from me even a second longer than what is strictly necessary, I will stain the ground with their blood and reap their soul from their body so slowly they’ll weep for damnation.”

~~~

Headquarters is kriffing freezing.

That’s the first thing you notice when you step inside, goosebumps immediately rising along your arms and a shiver racks your spine as you navigate the maze of hallways towards the center of the building where the conference room is located. Every footstep reverberates off the black marble floors, but the sound isn’t loud enough to prevent you from overhearing the whispering voices of other Cupids watching you pass by, gossiping about your impending interrogation. You’d be angry at them, except that would make you a hypocrite since you’ve also spread a rumor or two about your coworkers in the past. You can feel an increase of anxiety rush through your bloodstream, making you stuff your hands into your pockets lest anyone sees them trembling and laughs.

Your three superiors are already seated and waiting in the conference room when you arrive. You make eye contact with each one, bowing your head as both a greeting and sign of respect. Lang, a dark-haired man who is known for shooting first and asking questions later, offers you a jaunty salute before lacing his hands behind his head as he balances his chair on its rear legs, the image of relaxation. Morgan Elsbeth, the only female of the trio, elects to ignore you in favor of boredly drumming her fingers on the glass tabletop, looking as if she’d rather be anywhere else in the galaxy than here. Hess returns the nod with a leering grin, further convincing you he was half-womp rat in his mortal life.

You reach for the chair closest to you, planning to pull it out to sit, when Hess’ low, gravelly voice has you freezing mid-motion. “Cupid 1-1-7, you are to remain standing for the duration of this meeting.”

“Yes, sir,” you say, clasping your hands behind your back.

Hess turns in his seat towards the holoprojector that is set up on the table. He presses several buttons and a holographic figure flickers into view, dressed in dark armor with a long black cape. You recognize the seraph immediately, never able to forget the first face you saw when you woke up as a Cupid. Moff Gideon is the supreme leader of all Cupids, imposing and sharp-witted with violent powers you’ve often heard described as barbarically ruthless. Everything about him terrifies you and you’ve done all you can to avoid being in his presence.

Only now there is no escaping him. You can’t even teleport to save yourself. When headquarters was initially built, Gideon infused his powers into its structure with the intent of protecting the building from being discovered or, worse, attacked. (Though who would want to battle a bunch of Cupids, you have no idea). However, to the detriment of all Cupids currently inside headquarters, Gideon’s enchantment also blocks any of you from using your abilities. According to him, it’s to prevent any power-sensitive beings from detecting your aura signatures and you’ve never wanted to risk being murdered to try and find a flaw with that logic.

To put it bluntly, you’re a regular human in every sense except you get to keep your immortal youthfulness. Which is literally the least helpful perk you could ask for right now.

“Cupid 1-1-7,” Gideon says, dark eyes peering at you with such focused intensity you feel sweat begin to form along your hairline. “You were granted forty-eight hours to determine your client’s soulmate. Tell us, were you successful in finding his match?”

“I—” you cut yourself off, noticing his use of a gender specific term.

He chuckles at your dumbfounded expression, a quiet huff of air that you quickly deem the scariest sound you’ve ever heard. “You may have been able to conceal Death’s identity as your client from my associates, but few incidents occur in the galaxy without my knowing about them.”

Your three superiors each display unique reactions to the reveal. Morgan’s drumming stops, attention now hooked by the present conversation and she gives you a once-over, clearly reconsidering her overall impression of you. Lang nearly falls backwards onto the floor, barely managing to correct the chair at the last second to balance himself. Hess props his chin on top of his interlocked fingers, observing you in a similar fashion as Morgan, but there is an eerie glint in his gaze you don’t like the look of.

You swallow thickly, feeling sick to your stomach. “What do you want from me, sir?”

“The full and honest truth.” There is a brief pause, increasing the tension in the room. “Were you successful in finding Death’s soulmate?”

You don’t understand why he’s asking you the same question twice when he’s admitted he’s practically omniscient. And the way he’d paused just now, makes you start to worry he’s baiting you into a trap, but you have no viable means of escaping to avoid giving him an answer.

Your voice comes out meeker sounding than you’ve ever heard it. “Yes, sir, I was successful.”

When it becomes apparent after a long beat of silence you are not going to admit any further information, Gideon levels you with a stern look. “I strongly urge you to reveal their identity to us, Cupid 1-1-7, so we may make note of them in our archives as is customary for all matched pairs.”

Well now that makes you definitely feel cornered. Your thoughts are a jumbled mess inside your head; half of you is convinced he already knows you are Din’s soulmate and is toying with you, while the other half believes he actually has no idea at all and is trying to scare you into revealing the truth.

Kriff. What do you do?

You stare over their heads at the far wall, uncomfortably aware of how the silence stretches on as they wait for a name. Your name. Maker, why do you keep ending up in these horrible scenarios? Who did you piss off in your mortal life?

“If your tongue has failed you,” Gideon says, tone deceptively light and airy. “Might I suggest that an alternative way of answering would be to show us your hands.”

He knows.

Kriff. Kriff. Kriff.

You continue your staring contest with the wall, refusing to let them see any indication your blood has turned to ice or that your lungs are on the verge of collapsing. Think, you rack your brain frantically. For Maker’s sake, think of something .

“You’re already in hot water, Cupid 1-1-7,” Lang says. His southern accent softens the words, but you still manage to detect the warning laced within them. “Don’t make it worse for yourself by being stubborn.”

As much as you loathe to admit it, Lang has a point. By continuing to resist, you’re only hurting yourself by increasing the time spent separated from Din. You don’t want to break your promise to him. Or, that little voice in the back of your mind chips in, cause Din to destroy Kuiil’s farm out of a panic-induced rage when you don’t show up tonight like you promised you would.

Inhaling a deep breath to steady your nerves, you hold out your marked hand, palm facing up to clearly display the soulmate marking. The little black heart almost seems to glow at being the center of attention.

“That is impossible,” Morgan murmurs, looking from your hand to her colleagues and back again. “No one can have two soulmates.”

“And yet here we have living proof contradicting that belief,” Gideon answers, gesturing towards you grandly with both arms. There is something in his voice—awe, you identify a second later—that has your body instinctively stiffening.

“That belief is the natural order of the universe.” Morgan’s voice is snappish, but outwardly she is her calm and collected self, not a single strand of hair out of place. “She is a deviation of the norm. A glitch.”

“If other Cupids find out about her,” Hess begins, pointing a finger at you like the others have no idea who he’s talking about. Like you’re not able to hear every word. “They’ll start thinking maybe there’s a second soulmate out there somewhere for them too, someone to replace the one who rejected them in their mortal life. They’ll start questioning the natural order, the foundation of our galactic society, and all those questions will only lead to one thing: unrestrained chaos.”

“In order to prevent that unfavorable outcome, I would like to encourage a moment of observation.” Gideon looks to someone out of range of the holoprojector, nodding his head once in confirmation. “Take one last long look for Cupid 1-1-7 is a unique anomaly you may never have the chance of seeing again.”

You blink, heart going still as the implication registers. “What?”

Before anyone can answer or scold you, a purple-skinned twi'lek Cupid you don’t recognize casually enters the conference room, like she isn’t guilty of intruding on a private meeting. Almost as if...someone had summoned her. Your gaze darts briefly to Gideon, suspicions confirmed when you see his smirking face, before looking back at the twi’lek drawing closer.

“It’s time for your reassessment test. I’m here to take you there,” she tells you, baring her fanged teeth in what you think is supposed to be a smile, but it lacks any warmth or friendliness. You can only stare back at her, every cell in your body screaming this isn’t right. You shouldn’t need an escort to the testing room.

“I can go by myself,” you protest, holding your ground.

She lunges forward with lightning-quick reflexes, seizing your elbow and leaning disturbingly close into your personal space. “Pity,” she says, feigning a pout. “I thought we could become friends.”

Something sharp pricks your arm. You first notice the mischievous gleam in her dark eyes, and then when you look down, you discover a needle being pulled out of you arm. The room starts to spin, fuzzy black spots appearing in the corners of your vision, and you sag against the wall, balance failing you.

Closing your eyes, you try to focus on your soulmate bond, calling out to Din as the numbing sensation spreads to your feet and you collapse onto the floor without an ounce of grace.

Then, distant and distorted, as if it is coming from somewhere underwater hundreds of miles away, you hear a responding cry, “Angel!”

Din. Oh, thank the Maker, you think hysterically. The delicate line between reality and imagination shifts and blurs, as if it also is succumbing to the drug’s influence. You feel his hands clutch at your face, then move to your shoulders, shaking you in an effort to force your eyes open. You want to see his beautiful face, even if it is merely an illusion, but your eyelids feel as if they suddenly weigh a hundred pounds each.

“Tell me where you are,” he demands, tightly gripping your arms to the point of pain. “I’ll come save you, just tell me where I can find you.”

The answer is on the tip of your tongue, only your mind starts to drift again, pulling you away from him towards unconsciousness. Your bond's strength wavers, unable to keep the connection stable across the lengthy distance separating you and him, and it begins to curl in on itself.

Din must notice this, too, screaming so loudly it verges on roaring, “Stay with me, angel! Please, just stay with—”

The last thing you think of before everything goes black is how much you hate breaking your pinky promise to him.

Tag List: @leilei-draws​, @theocatkov​, @vintagesaph​, @stardust-and-starlight​, @adrieunor​, @remmyswritings​, @gallowsjoker​, @rhiannon-russo​, @randomness501​, @sylphene​, @softly-sad​, @maytheglitter​, @melobee​, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives​, @eleinemk​, @captain-jebi​, @aerynwrites​, @promiscuoussatan​, @stilllivindue2spite​, @coaaster​, @lin-djarin​, @becauseican2, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @nicotinebirds

[jordanstrophe]

A Cinnamon Bun too Pure for this World, part 2

CW: Whump, heavily conditioned whumpee, offering themselves for punishment, beating and cutting implied, Whumpee trying to stay with whumper, panic attack, slapped, losing consciousness, 

Masterlist

(Brain fizzled, if there’s any types, shhh, no one will notice, right?)

Whumpee sat in the passenger seat with his hands folded politely in his lap. His eyes were wide with a mix of emotions of fear, sadness and loneliness. They had never been away from Whumper this long. It felt like every second that passed of them being separated added another hit to his inevitable punishment when he finally reunited with Whumper. 

Caretaker tried to keep their eyes focused, but he could see the boy trembling in the corner of his eye. “Can I ask your name?” Caretaker asked. The boy let out a shuttered breath when he was acknowledged, he was trying to answer, but no sound came out. 

Caretaker sighed with a small smile. “It’s okay, I know you’re frightened. You had a rough day.” 

Or was it a day? Whumpee seemed so comfortable with that man, he must have been with him awhile. Had he had a hard week? Month? Year? 

“Cin...” He heard the tiniest voice murmur beside him. Caretaker let out a genuine smile.

“Hi Cin, my name is Richard.” 

--

They pulled into the driveway, it was a cute house with a white picket fence surrounding it. Cin hardly looked up as the door opened for him, refusing to budge from the car. 

“I’m... Sorry.” Cin muttered. Richard’s smile faded.

“You’re fine, it’s okay if you don’t want to stay here, you’re free to leave whenever.” He tried not to sound upset or disappointed, but he hoped the man would stay for just a little bit, until he could get on his own two feet.

“N-no! It’s not that! It’s... I never should have left the hotel!” He cried with guilt. “He... He didn’t tell me I could leave! I should have stayed right where he l-left m-me!” He blubbered, his tone crashing into tears as he covered his face from shame.

“Sweetheart...” Richard’s face fell.

“H-he’s going to c-come back for me, right? If I just s-stay... Right where he left me. He’s going to come back. He has to! I can’t do anything without him, he said so himself!” Cin cried. 

Richard leaned against the car closer to him, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“Cin, I’m so sorry, but he’s not going to come back for you.” He said. Cin’s cries grew louder and more helpless with his words. “But he wasn’t a good man, was he? Didn’t he hurt you?” He asked.

“No! Only when I deserved it! He was... He was-” His voice disintegrated as he stared off blankly into space. 

“When did you deserve it, Cin?”

He didn’t answer, he seemed completely lost in an ocean of a thousand thoughts and words. 

“Why don’t we get inside and settle in. I have a guest room you can stay in.” He tried to give him an excited smile.

Cin looked at him as he cleaned his face off. “H-hotel?” He muttered.

“No, I’m not taking you back to the hotel, it’s not safe there.” He extended his hand to him, as Cin’s hand instinctively shot out, wedging his wrist into Richard’s hand. He looked shocked he even did that for a stranger, but it was too late now as Richard shifted so he was holding his hand instead of his wrist. 

A soon as the front door open, there was a fluffy golden retriever waiting to greet them at the door. Her tail swishing back and forth even faster when she saw Cin, who instantly perked up and beamed with excitement. He started making a high pitch squeaking sound that Richard hoped was a good sign as he collapsed on his knees to greet the dog. 

“This is Daisy! She’s very friendly.” Richard smiled, Cin was already all over her with hugs and pets, ruffling her fur as she could hardly sit still with happiness. 

Richard let out a chuckle, “I’ll make some tea for us, do you want anything specific for dinner? Are you allergic to anything?” He asked.

Cin froze as he blinked up at him with nervous eyes. This was a test, right? Should he be honest? He was afraid if he lied he would get caught anyway and make things worse.

“I can’t hav-... I’m allergic to fish.” He admitted. “Got it! No fish.” Richard said, disappearing into the kitchen. Cin was still locked in place, not sure what to do, until he quickly snapped to his feet. 

“Wait! I can make dinner!” Cin called, bolting over to follow him. “But you’re a guest! I got this, you just sit down with tea and take it easy, mmaky?” Richard smiled, taking his hand and placing a warm teacup in it. 

“Eh?” Cin blinked down at the cup in his hands. He was a guest? “But-.. But I can’t do that, I have to help! Please, I can do this! I can be useful!” He pouted. 

“Alright! Alright, you can help, I appreciate it.” Richard chuckled, as Cin visibly relaxed with a relieved sigh. Cin did everything he was told, and executed quickly and flawlessly. He moved like a bullet anytime he was asked to grab this, put that away, add this. When he had nothing to do, he stood there like a stick soldier waiting for the next order. 

Richard put two full glasses and other things onto a tray. “Can you bring this to the table?” He asked. For the first time, Cin didn’t move. “You.. Want me... To what?” He asked, his head curiously tilted to the side. “Tray? To the table?” Richard asked. Cin looked genuinely scared of the tray sitting innocently on the counter. “It’s okay if you don’t want to!” Richard added. 

“No! I can do it.” He said with his voice trembling. “Are you... Are you sure? I can ge-” “-No! I can do it.” Cin mumbled as Richard raised an eyebrow. He tried to continue chopping vegetables while watching Cin with the corner of his eye. His hands were already trembling as he slowly placed them on each side of the tray. He braced himself as he lifted it, his heart jolting as he watched the glasses wobble dangerously. He turned his body around to the table, as soon as he got half way there, pain spiked through his left hand as it gave away. He let out a yelp as the tray hit the ground with both glasses shattering to pieces, scattering across the kitchen.

Cin slowly peaked his eyes open to see himself standing in a sea of broken glass. He couldn’t feel his hand anymore, or hear a thing. He only stood frozen with wide eyes looking at the awful mess he had made. 

n.. o...   no.... I didn’t... It was... no... an accident...  didn’t mean it...

‘I’m sorry’ His mouth moved, but no sound came out. His eyes widened when he realized there was no air in his lungs.

‘Cin, breath’ 

His eyes twitched when he finally heard something. 

‘Cin, breath!’

Breath? Breath what?

“CIN! TAKE A BREATH!” 

He gasped into reality when he felt a strike against his cheek, the air filling his lungs almost felt wrong. He blinked awake, he was laying on the ground in the living room in Richard’s arm.

“Why weren't you breathing!? Cin! You just... Stopped breathing! You scared me to death!” Richard cried, his face pale with terror.

“I’m sorry.” He rasped, finally, words coming from his lip. He sat up as Richard helped him, still supporting his back just to make sure he was okay. He was light headed as the room spun.

“What happened? Are you okay?” Richard asked. 

‘I’m sorry...”

“Cin,  are   you   okay ?” Richard asked sternly, grabbing his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry...” He muttered with a blank expression. Richard‘s eyes fell to his hand still clutched to his chest. He gently slid his hand in and took it, turning his palm around. There were inch long scars in the middle of his hand in multiple places. Robert’s heart dropped to his stomach when he realized what happened. It wasn’t because Cin didn’t want to pick up the tray, it was because he couldn’t.

‘Cin... Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?” Richard asked, as Cin’s hand immediately retracted and hid into his chest. He looked up at him with glossy eyes.

“Because I didn’t want you to think less of me.” He sniffled. 

“Why would I think less of you?! When did this happen?” He asked.

“About a year ago...” He muttered.

A year. He had been with that man for well over a year?! He stopped when he noticed Cin had been moving. He glanced up to see Cin had tugged his shirt off and set it to the side with his back turned to him.

“I-I’m ready.” He mumbled sadly, already beginning to cry silently as he hid his head in his arms against the floor. His back was colored black and blue from uncountable bruises and marks running down his arms. He looked as if he was thrown into a mixer. 

Richard opened his mouth to panic, but now it was his turn to be breathless. 

Cin waited for the belt or the rod to be brought onto his back. Usually his punishments had something to do with his stupidity as he realized he was probably going to be cut with the glass shards he littered the floor with. His skin crawled and shivered at the thoughts... Please just the rod... The rod was the easiest to ta-... What was he even thinking?! He didn’t deserve the rod, he deserved an appropriate punishment. But... The glass hurt so badl- His thoughts were interrupted as two arms wrapped around his chest, lifting him into his arms bridal style.

What... What is happening? He had never been carried like this before...

“No no no no this is too much.. Way too much for me.” Richard mumbled under his breath. Cin looked up at him with confusion as they both looked at each other like they were crazy. 

Cin jolted as he was laid down into a soft plush bed and bundled up in blankets. 

“Nope, I am in waaaay to deep over my head.” Richard continued to mutter under his breath, his face wide as if he had seen a ghost. 

“S-sir?” Cin asked with confusion, looking up at him with big eyes.

Richard plastered a fake smile on his face as he brushed Cin’s wavy ash blonde hair from his eyes as he blinked. 

“You’re alright sweetheart. I’ll bring you some dinner and a drink in a moment, okay? Just lie down and rest, you need to recover.” He said with a tone death voice. 

‘Recover? R-recover... From what?” Cin asked with a tilted expression. Richard didn’t answer as he mindlessly walked out of the door, gently closing it behind him.

- 

Richard gasped as his chest fell onto the table, his hands gripping into his hair. He hardly felt he was ripping hair out as he heaved for air. His back... That poor man’s back... It was unreal, inhuman, disturbing, horrifying... He collapsed his head on the table as he tried to shake the image from his mind. He had gotten himself buried into way more water then he could tread. 

He would bring him dinner and a drink and get some much needed rest... He would call the hospital and police first thing in the morning, they were much more qualified at taking care of him then he was. 

-

Cin was having an absolute blast getting comfortable in the new bed. It was so soft! So plush, so warm, it was like floating on a cloud! He stretched his arms over his head as he rolled around making the blankets wrap around his body over and over again. He froze half way as his eyes shot open. 

He hadn’t gotten punished yet. He didn’t get beaten, belted or sliced. What.. What did that mean? That meant his punishment was on hold until tomorrow, correct? Why wait so long unless... Unless this Richard man had to set something up for him? He... He broke two glasses! There must some horrible punishment waiting for him when he wakes up and-

He froze when the door opened again, Richard stayed true to his word and set a plate and cup down at the desk and quickly left. 

Cin shot up in bed as he looked down at the plate. The cup left for him was in a plastic cup instead of the glass one. He quickly drank the whole thing in one go, before looking down at the dinner

He didn’t deserve it...

-

It was late in the night, only the stars and moon in the sky were lit as Cin tiptoed across the living room floor. Daisy had noticed him awake and happily jumped around to greet him as he tried to shush her. 

“Shh! I’m sorry, but I have to go.” He said sadly, slinking to the floor on his knees as he laid his head on her soft fur one last time. He quickly got up and slipped out the door, closing it behind his before Daisey could try and follow him. She stopped wagging her tail as the door shut, looking up at it with confusion, before spinning around and running into Richard's room. 

She jumped up on his bed and licked his face until he squirmed awake with a groan. 

“Hmmph... Daisey, noooo.” He tried, not even sounding authoritative. She let out a bark as he jolted, sitting up and trying to push her off the bed. She continued to bark and bark anxiously as Richard finally gave in and climbed out of bed. Daisy started running around the house in a panic, going from Cin’s door, to the front door. Richard blinked as he came to a realization and slammed Cin’s door open, revealing a perfectly made empty bed, the plate on the desk left untouched and a note sitting in the middle of the bed. He squinted as he flicked the light on and took the note~

Thank you for everything and I’m sorry

I’m going to go back to the one person 

who can put up with me

Richard instantly bolted, throwing his robe and grabbing his car keys as he was out the door in a flash.

Tag list: @grizzlie70  @alien-octopus @lave-whump @amethysts-sideblog @pyromilka @thingsthatgowhumpinthenight @yet-another-heathen @princessofonward @whatwhumpcomments  @milk-carton-whump @whumpasaurus101​  @sillypizzazineoperator @as-a-matter-of-whump   Tagging prompt list one last time before switching to a specific list <3

o(^∀^*)o Thank you for reading!

[bloody-bee-tea]

Hi, I loved BeeTober 2020 Day 31, and also loved the 2nd part you wrote. If you feel like it, I'd love to see some kind of follow-up where JFM realizes how wrong he was - or at least something a bit in the future where we find out about the consequences for him and the company. Or where someone else rubs it into their face how they fucked up.

JC Love Month 2020 Day 11

Dependence on others

As luck will have it, I had this written before you even sent the ask in ;) Day 11 of JC Love Month brings more of the AU where JC leaves the family business. And now it's high time for Wei Wuxian to do the same and for JFM to realize just what he lost. 

Previous Part

“I can no longer do this,” Wei Wuxian wails, even before he barges in to Jiang Cheng’s room. “Jiang Cheng, I can’t work like this, why is everyone at the company this incompetent, please, won’t you come back?” Wei Wuxian asks and throws himself on Jiang Cheng’s bed as if he was invited.

“Is that you asking or did father put you up to it?” he mildly asks and Wei Wuxian perks up.

“Would it make a difference?” he eagerly asks and Jiang Cheng lets him hope for a few seconds before he shakes his head.

“No.”

“Goddamit,” Wei Wuxian mutters. “It’s me asking. Uncle Fengmian still seems to be under the impression that you’re throwing a fit and that you’ll be back in no time. He didn’t contact you?”

“He didn’t,” Jiang Cheng confirms and he wonders just how long his father will attribute his continued absence to a temper tantrum.

“I told him to speak directly with you,” Wei Wuxian tells him and he seems honestly apologetic about it, too, which Jiang Cheng doesn’t understand.

“It’s not your fault,” Jiang Cheng says. “We knew he wouldn’t notice or care about this, as long as things still at work run smoothly. Are they still running smoothly?” Jiang Cheng asks and Wei Wuxian buries his face in Jiang Cheng’s pillow.

So they are not.

“No. Everyone is too stupid to get me the deal I need to launch the new project I have. I am nothing without you, A-Cheng, please help me,” Wei Wuxian begs and Jiang Cheng allows himself a very self-satisfactory smile.

He knew he did good work at his father’s company, but it’s nice to hear it, anyway.

“No,” he easily says, because there is no way he is ever going to step foot back into the company as long as his father leads it. “I can help you, but if I do, the project will have to launch for Nie Corps,” Jiang Cheng informs Wei Wuxian who looks at him with big eyes.

“Lan Zhan would kill me if I go and work for Nie Corps,” he whispers, and Jiang Cheng shrugs.

“Well, then you either go to your boyfriend with this and hope he can help you, or you’ll accept defeat and come to me,” Jiang Cheng says, smug as all hell, because he knows that for all that Lan Wangji is a good business man he lacks the edge to make the deals Jiang Cheng used to make.

They won’t be able to launch Wei Wuxian’s designs in their entirety and Wei Wuxian always hates it when he has to concede to changes.

“You are so goddamn mean,” Wei Wuxian whines. “Is this Mingjue-ge’s influence? Do I have to separate you two?”

“You can certainly try, but you won’t succeed,” Jiang Cheng says confidently, because for all that it has only been three weeks, he knows that Nie Mingjue is as unwilling as he himself is to let anyone or anything come between them.

“I don’t even want to try,” Wei Wuxian sighs. “I like how you two are together.”

“I like it, too,” Jiang Cheng admits, warmth unfurling in his chest when he thinks about Nie Mingjue and Wei Wuxian makes a gagging noise before he composes himself again.

“Do you think there’s a position for me in Nie Corps?” he then asks and Jiang Cheng smiles because he already talked about this with Nie Zonghui.

“As luck will have it, yes,” he tells Wei Wuxian who perks up at that.

“Really?”

“Really,” Jiang Cheng nods. “Mingjue hates that we still launched the phone for father’s company and he’d love to get his hands on whatever you design next. I talked to Nie Zonghui about it as well, and he thinks the same, so if you should decide you’re ready to leave father and—more importantly—you’re ready to face Lan Wangji’s ire, then you have a position there. We’d be working together again.”

“Yes,” Wei Wuxian screams and reaches for his phone. “Lan Zhan knows I love him, but I love inventing almost as much as him. He’ll understand.”

Jiang Cheng doesn’t doubt it for a second, because he has seen how indulgent Lan Wangji is with Wei Wuxian and even though it would be a huge blow for Lan Enterprises to lose Wei Wuxian to Nie Corps, he’ll probably help Wei Wuxian on the way, if he should need it.

“There’s just one thing,” Jiang Cheng says as Wei Wuxian furiously types away at his phone.

“What?” he reluctantly asks and drags his eyes away from whatever answer Lan Wangji has sent.

“Could you tough it out for a few more weeks?” Jiang Cheng asks, and he knows that he’s asking for a lot from his brother.

“You want to see me crash and burn,” Wei Wuxian says, and he doesn’t sound as upset about it as he probably should be.

“No,” Jiang Cheng immediately says, because that’s not at all what he wants.

“I want to see father crash and burn because he always depends on others to do the job and doesn’t even acknowledge it. I want him to see that your genius inventions don’t work on their own; I want him to see that I did actually do a whole bunch of work for your things to be presentable. I just want him to—”

Jiang Cheng trails off because if he’s being honest he doesn’t even know what he wants. He knows his father will never be proud of him and he accepted that and moved on.

“You just want him to suffer,” Wei Wuxian sums up and Jiang Cheng has to admit that maybe he’s just petty enough to want that, yes.

“Fine,” Wei Wuxian agrees with a sigh. “I will let this project run into the ground; it’s not like anyone working with me there can pull a miracle out of their ass like you always did. But,” he says and points a finger at Jiang Cheng. “You have to promise that we’ll launch the same project under Nie Corps after I transfer there.”

“Promise,” Jiang Cheng tells him without hesitation, because he might have shared the newest idea Wei Wuxian came up with with Nie Mingjue already, and he was so mad that it would be a huge blow against them again.

It will not be a problem to launch this under Nie Corps name.

“Then I agree. I’ll stay there until Uncle Fengmian realizes he’s nothing without you.”

“Okay,” Jiang Cheng says and then tackles Wei Wuxian back into the bed, because he can, but mostly because Wei Wuxian is the best brother anyone could wish for.

~*~*~

This family dinner is bound to be awkward as hell, Jiang Cheng already knows it, and he’s honestly looking forward to it. Jiang Fengmian hasn’t called for a dinner in months now and Jiang Cheng knows he’s only doing it now because Wei Wuxian’s project failed spectacularly and cost his father’s company a whole lot of money and Jiang Fengmian might just have come to the realization that Jiang Cheng wasn’t as useless as he always thought.

Jiang Cheng can only hope.

“I can’t believe that I get real pay now,” Wei Wuxian still gushes at Jiang Cheng’s side, because they are just coming from their meeting with Nie Mingjue and Nie Zonghui where Wei Wuxian signed the contract that officially makes him an employee at Nie Corps.

Jiang Cheng is still laughing at how big Wei Wuxian’s eyes got when he saw that he would be paid in full and not just as an intern.

“It’s quite nice, to get regular pay,” Jiang Cheng agrees, because he has saved every penny he could so far, simply because he wants to be prepared for what comes after college.

He doubts that Nie Mingjue will kick him out of the company when he has his degree, but Jiang Cheng learned to be cautious nonetheless and it can never hurt to put some money on the side.

“I can’t wait what he’s going to say today. I handed in my resignation this morning, but he wasn’t there to take it, much like with yours,” Wei Wuxian tells him again and Jiang Cheng already knows how this will go.

His father will do anything he can to get Wei Wuxian back and then he’ll ask Jiang Cheng why he still isn’t over whatever tantrum he’s throwing.

Well, Jiang Cheng has a few choice words ready for him.

“Did Yanli say anything about this dinner?” Jiang Cheng asks, because he has been so busy today that he didn’t get a chance to speak with her.

“She doesn’t know about it,” Wei Wuxian says and Jiang Cheng actually laughs at that.

Of course she doesn’t.

“Oh, this is great,” Jiang Cheng wheezes. “It’s not a family dinner, it’s a fucking business dinner.”

That stops Wei Wuxian cold in his tracks.

“Are we even allowed to take those? Should we call Nie Zonghui to confirm?” he asks and Jiang Cheng throws his arm around his shoulder.

“Zonghui allowed me to deal with father however I see fit, so this will not be a problem.”

“Good, because I don’t want to be fired on the spot,” Wei Wuxian tells him and Jiang Cheng shoves him away.

“As if,” he says. “Did you see how wide Zonghui’s eyes went when you explained your invention? He’s going to keep you.”

“I hope so,” Wei Wuxian mutters, but he was preening with all the praise Nie Zonghui gave him and they all know it.

“So, let’s do this,” Jiang Cheng says when the house comes into view and they both straighten up.

Time to face the music.

Jiang Fengmian doesn’t come to meet them at the entrance, but instead waits for them, already seated at the head of the table.

Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng share one look and then sit down as well, because it’s quite clear he will not invite them to do so.

“Wei Wuxian, what is this nonsense I hear about you resigning?” Jiang Fengmian starts, and he doesn’t even spare Jiang Cheng a glance.

It stings, like it always does, but this what Jiang Cheng expected.

“It’s not nonsense,” Wei Wuxian says, for once in his life deadly serious. “I resigned, because I didn’t get the support I needed in your company.”

“You always had all the support,” Jiang Fengmian says and Wei Wuxian throws a look at Jiang Cheng.

“Uncle Fengmian, no offense, but the only person who always supported me was Jiang Cheng. He’s the only reason half of my inventions are presentable and without him—” He shrugs. “No one can quite do his job.”

“Jiang Wanyin,” Jiang Fengmian says and turns to Jiang Cheng, who smiles pleasantly at his father.

“You hear this? Wei Wuxian resigned because you decided to throw a tantrum. You’re ruining his future, if you keep this up. I expect you back at work on Monday.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Jiang Cheng says and he thoroughly enjoys how big Jiang Fengmian’s eyes go. “I resigned quite a few weeks ago, and I already have a new job. I will not be coming back.”

“What?” Jiang Fengmian says and then shakes his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. I saw no such resignation.”

“That’s because you ignore everything I do,” Jiang Cheng says with a shrug. “I handed it in to your assistant because you couldn’t be bothered to see me that day. He confirmed that I handed it in and since you kept us at the company with an intern contract, it’s a valid form of resignation.”

“Are you really going to ruin your brother’s future just because you’re mad I didn’t have time for you?” Jiang Fengmian asks and Wei Wuxian flinches like he always does when Jiang Fengmian uses him against Jiang Cheng.

“No, I’m not,” Jiang Cheng says. “I recruited Wei Wuxian to the company I work at now. Wei Wuxian will be quite able to go as wild as he wants to with his inventions there.”

“And there I’ll have the backing I need to get them to the market,” Wei Wuxian chimes in and Jiang Fengmian frowns.

“But you always did that yourself.”

“No,” Wei Wuxian says with a snort. “I’m shit at getting people to do what I want. That was always Jiang Cheng. He made all the necessary deals. And you never cared.”

“And now you conspired together to make me see my mistake,” Jiang Fengmian says, as if he still believes that this is just a test or something and they will come to their senses soon. “Well done.”

“You misunderstand,” Jiang Cheng says. “This was not to teach you a lesson or whatever you think this is. This is us going our own way.”

“A-Cheng, don’t be like that,” Jiang Fengmian says, and Jiang Cheng clenches his jaw at that name.

His father only ever uses it when he wants Jiang Cheng to go conform with what he orders.

“Don’t,” Wei Wuxian hisses. “He’s not a petulant child you get to lecture,” he goes on. “He grew so much, and he’s a better business man than you will ever be. You don’t get to be condescending like that.”

“Wei Wuxian,” Jiang Cheng says, because it’s okay.

It’s what he expected.

“I’m guessing wherever you work, you get full pay,” Jiang Fengmian says, because of course.

If the emotional manipulation doesn’t work, then money will do the trick.

Well, he’s fresh out of luck today.

“Of course,” Jiang Cheng says, because it was ridiculous to begin with that they were paid like an intern when they pulled half the company along.

“I will pay that to you, too,” Jiang Fengmian says and Wei Wuxian looks at Jiang Cheng, because clearly he knows him better than his father ever will.

Jiang Cheng smiles at him because he’s feeling quite petty this evening.

“I want you to ask,” Jiang Cheng says, and sees how Jiang Fengmian works his jaw a few times.

“Jiang Cheng, would you please come back to the company,” he says after less time than Jiang Cheng expected and even though it’s not quite a question it definitely feels like a win to him.

The loss they had from Wei Wuxian’s last invention must have been worse than Jiang Cheng imagined.

“No,” Jiang Cheng very pleasantly says and then gets up. “I’ll consider this a business meeting, you’ll be hearing from my boss with the driving expenses,” Jiang Cheng says, and he thoroughly enjoys how Jiang Fengmian goes white in the face.

“A-Ying,” he tries next, but Wei Wuxian is standing shoulder to shoulder with Jiang Cheng and for once in their life they won’t allow Jiang Fengmian to throw a wrench between them.

“No, Uncle Fengmian. We’re not coming back,” he says and his voice doesn’t leave any room for an argument.

“Where are you working now,” Jiang Fengmian demands to know, as if he could challenge whatever company took Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian up and Jiang Cheng bares his teeth at him.

“You’ll know when Wei Wuxian’s next big invention hits and steals half the market from you,” he says and then he simply leaves, Wei Wuxian hot on his heels.

“That was awesome,” Wei Wuxian says as soon as they are outside of the house and Jiang Cheng laughs because he has to admit that it was.

“So very awesome,” he agrees. “We should have done this so much earlier.”

“We should have,” Wei Wuxian nods and then he lights up in a way that tells Jiang Cheng that he caught sight of Lan Wangji.

“Oh, look, it’s Lan Zhan,” he predictably says and he waves like a madman, before he turns towards Jiang Cheng with a wink. “Don’t worry, I called Mingjue-ge for you, too,” he says and then he skips over to Lan Wangji laughing the whole time.

Jiang Cheng would be mad at him, except then he sees Nie Mingjue get out of a car, clearly only waiting for him and Jiang Cheng can’t find it in him to be mad at his brother.

“How was your business dinner?” Nie Mingjue asks him, a threatening undertone to his voice and Jiang Cheng leans up and kisses him.

“Awesome,” Jiang Cheng honestly says. “Father is going to go grey when he hears for whom we’re working now.”

“I wish I could see his face when he finds out,” Nie Mingjue says, because it’s no secret that he never liked Jiang Fengmian.

“Same,” Jiang Cheng says and then threads their fingers together. “But enough about my father. Are you here to take me out for a date dinner?”

“I would guess you had enough business dinners for today,” Nie Mingjue says with a fond smile and kisses Jiang Cheng again. “So date dinner it is.”

“Best day ever,” Jiang Cheng says with a laugh and then waves when Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian drive past them.

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

It really has been one good day.

Next part

[korissideblog]

ᴴᵉʸ i already apologized to Dante, but I guess I also have to apologize to y’all. So… once again, sorry I did a kick flip so sick it made the tag ill. I’ll be sure to think of you all when I’m living a solitary life as a hermit in the forest who’s mistaken for the ghost of a witch.

uuummmmmmI also finished the jetsam fic last night 👉👈 so here you go bestys <3

@jetsam-kisa

Jetsam knew getting into some sort of activity with Aito would be a mistake. Usually the little creature was up to something malicious, and even if you couldn’t figure it out immediately, at some point something would take a sharp right turn and now she’s tricked you into being his accomplice for whatever his next cruel joke is. Aito hasn’t revealed what this trick will be, but it definitely terrifies him considering that they’re in the kitchen.

“It’s just that Mich’ gave me such a pretty skirt yesterday.” Aito had explained, her wiry tail wagging from side to side. “And both Ikuto and Haru said I should say thank you with a little gift in return!”

And so Jetsam (foolishly) agreed to help Aito make cookies. Aito had found the recipe and ingredients, all she needed help with was execution. Jetsam wasn’t sure if he was stressed about how little he could vet the ingredients, or if he was relieved because he was helping with so little- he couldn’t possibly get in trouble for just making cookies right? Right???

“So we have flour, baking soda… salt right here…” Jetsam mumbled, his usual plumes of smoke going up and dissipating into the air as he read off what ingredients they would need and making sure Aito got the right stuff. Aito sat on the counter nearby, watching Jetsam sort everything out silently. After making sure everything was in place, Jetsam gave Aito the thumbs up and Aito hopped off the counter to come help. “Could you preheat the oven-” Jetsam immediately recognized the fault in leaving Aito alone with a heat source and took it back “ah, no, lemme get the oven, you can start mixing th-” nope! Aito would probably be worse if he was left unsupervised with ingredients that someone would be eating, and took that back as well. “Ok then… I’ll preheat the oven, you can just… just stand there for a second.” he finally settled on, stepping away and quickly setting the oven before looking back to check on Aito and-

And she didn’t seem to be doing much. Just kinda standing around, scrolling through the phone that they were using to look at the instructions. Seeing as it was Aito’s phone, Jetsam didn’t see any reason to panic as he returned to Aito’s side. “Next we have to mix the flour, baking soda, and salt.” Aito said, scrolling up and down the instructional website in boredom. “Sounds easy, lemme get the thingies.” by ‘thingies’ Aito apparently meant measuring tools, and (with a nervous Jetsam’s supervision) measured out the dry ingredients and put them into a bowl.

“Have you started on the report for history?” Jetsam asked, starting to mix the wet ingredients together with a handheld mixer- much too afraid of something motorized being in Aito’s hands to let her help. “I know what I wanna write about, I just haven’t started.”

“Yeah, Haru made me start before we left class.” Aito responded vaguely, strangely not taking the opportunity to lightheartedly complain about her friend.“It's lame, but I’m halfway done.” she shrugged, hopping onto the counter and watching like a cat on a windowsill, her tail even swaying side to side as she watched the ingredients mix. “Now we add the chocolate, right?”

“Roawr”

“Meow?” Aito perked up and looked to the floor of the kitchen, Jetsam not far behind as Aito jumped down from the counter to greet their new guest. “Oh! Look who’s here Jetsam!” Aito smiled, picking up a small black kitten who had wandered into the kitchen. “Oh wait, You’ve never met little Jiji, have you?”

“No?” Jetsam said, not wanting to get in trouble for being seen with a pet in the dorms but… but it was just the smallest little kitten he’s ever seen! And Aito was just bringing him to him! “H-hello there sweetheart.” Jetsam hummed, carefully putting his hand out for the kitten to sniff as he realized that the kitten didn’t seem to have eyes- a terrifying realization when in relation to Aito “Can he see anything?”

“No, I think it was a birth thing though.” Aito said, petting the kitten fondly before putting him down again. “He needs to walk around a bit, get a feel for the space.” she explained as the kitten stood still for a second before realizing that Aito wasn’t going to pick him up again and running off to go explore. If Jiji ran into a few walls, Aito ignored the sound, and so did Jetsam. “I think he got out through my vent, I'll have to close it next time.” Aito shrugged, finding the bag of chocolate chips and opening it.

“Why was the vent open in the first place?” Jetsam asked, worried about Aito’s answer, but deciding that it would be worse not to know.

“Sometimes Haru locks his door so he can destress.” Aito said, pouring the chips into one of the measuring cups. “I need to be able to stop that as quickly as humanly possible.” he explained, not going into detail as Jetsam nodded, not wanting any more details. Aito poured the chips into the mix and let Jetsam mix it for her, again taking her place on the counter to watch.

“You named the cat after the Jiji sticker on my wallet?” Jetsam asked, suddenly realizing how quiet Aito was being (at least compared to the insane amount of talking she normally did) and wanting him to talk again.

“Mhm.” Aito responded, watching the dough spin around in the bowl

“It’s from a show you know.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I could show you it some time.”

“I’d like that.”

Jetsam could taste the silence in the room as he put the mixer down. He thought he was scared of an over excited Aito, but a deathly silent one was twice as agonizing. He let Aito get the sheet pan and spray it down, but decided to let her play with a small portion of the dough as he quickly divided the rest into even little balls, all spread across the sheet, with a small space for Aito’s.

When he looked up to the girl on the counter, she had her back turned to him as she messed with the dough. Aito felt eyes on his back and looked up, noticing that Jetsam was finished, and held up the plate she was working on.

The cookie dough was formed into a crude little heart shape, rough around the edges, and still needing some work. “It looks good, Aito-kun.” Jetsam said, not sure how well it would turn out in the oven, but also not willing to put Aito down when she looked so contemplative. She turned around and put the plate back down on the counter, as if to let Jetsam see what she was doing.

“You know they found a body…” Aito said, barely above a whisper as she carefully formed the dough “on an Arabian Peninsula…” Jetsam felt his heart beat quicken with nervousness as he tried to hide the larger clouds of smoke billowing from his mouth. “It was an archeological dig and… they think she’s 4000 years old- the bones that is- she was… they think she was 18 when she died.” Good lord- Aito-kun always tells her stories in the worst way possible. “I’m writing my history report on her. Her bones were all messed up- way too thin for her to do much. She was severely disabled and would have needed around the clock care… but… but they also saw that she had… she had a lot of cavities, and her teeth were falling out and it didn’t make sense till…” Aito paused momentarily, as if trying to remember what his hands were doing before he continued the story. “till they realized that she… she just ate too many dates.” He giggled, sharpening the bottom of the heart as best as he could. “They just loved her so much… they loved her to death.” Aito paused again, looking over his handiwork and immediately started poking it again, less out of a want to shape it, and more out of a need to do something with his hands. “They always say survival of the fittest and- and I think they’re right!” He said, her voice rising a bit in volume. “Humanity’s made it this far because we found out that what makes us fit for survival is love and compassion and empathy and community and- and…” Aito just stood there, collecting her thoughts as he tapped a rhythm on the center of the cookie, as if trying to make it beat on its own. “And I like things better when they’re heart shaped.” She finally finished, still tapping the dough, but calming down a bit. “Can we… um”

“We can make them all heartshaped, if you want.” Jetsam offered, pointing to the rest of the cookies. Aito simply nodded and finally removed her hands from the dough, frowning a bit at the messy edges, but not willing to reshape it as she moved it from the plate to sheet pan.

Jetsam showed Aito how to make the dough into a shape that would actually end up as a heart after the oven, and together they finished the sheet, Jetsam slipping in into the oven and turning back to face Aito. Aito still looked tentative, swinging his legs over the side of the counter, but a bit more confident than before. “You said you still needed to start on your report?” Aito asked, and Jetsam nodded. Aito hopped down from the counter. “I’ll be back.”

Jetsam followed Aito to the door of the kitchen, but stayed put as Aito continued down the hall to the dorm rooms. Aito returned a bit later with a paper, pencil, copy of their history book, and a cozy looking blanket. “You should start now. I need a nap.” Aito said shortly, turning away from the kitchen and into the common room. Aito laid Jetsam’s supplies on the adjacent coffee table and let him sit down before wrapping herself in the blanket and laying her head across his lap.

“Is this my copy of the textbook?” Jetsam asked, recognizing some of the graffiti across the well used pages. “This was in my dorm room.”

“Mhm.” Aito hummed, looking over the pages as well.

“My dorm was locked?”

“Yeah,” Aito chuckled, sitting up a bit to explain himself. “But all the doors kinda suck. If you know what you’re doing, you can get into any dorm you want without a key.” He said, flipping a few pages and ignoring the nervousness on Jetsam’s face. “Your door in particular is a bit harder though, if it’s any comfort. You have to point the handle perfectly vertical and knee it really hard. Easy once you get used to it, but I don’t exactly go around telling people these things.” He mumbled, tossing his arms over Jetsam’s legs and resting his head on his arms.

“Thanks?” Jetsam shrugged, mildly uncomfortable with the fact that Aito could just break into his room whenever… maybe he should invest in a deadbolt…

“But what do you plan on writing your report on?” Aito asked, closing his eyes and very clearly not planning to listen to Jetsam’s report. So Jetsam gave a quick summary of his ideas till he was sure that Aito was out cold (luckily she fell asleep quickly) and continued working on his report in silence till the alarm on Aito’s phone went off.

Aito immediately jumped awake at the noise, but grumbled and complained as he turned the alarm off. Aito yawned like a cat and stepped over the couch like it was nothing- and seeing how often she disregarded the proper use of furniture, she probably saw it as such. Jetsam was still sorting his supplies, as well as his (mostly finished!) report when he heard Aito mumble something along the lines of “oh I hate this part” and the sound of running water. Jetsam immediately sprung to the kitchen, only barely making it to the door before Aito reached into the oven with his BARE HANDS and pulled the pan out, before throwing it on the counter and immediately putting her hands into the sink, under the running water. “I hate this I hate ovens I hate heat I hate-“ Aito rambled on and on about hating this and that about the stupid decision he just made, leaving Jetsam in completely stunned confusion.

“Why didn’t you just??? Use the mits???” Jetsam howled, running over to inspect Aito’s reddened hands.

“Mitts? You use those for cold things?” Aito asked, as if Jetsam was the moron here.

“You… they’re called oven mitts, Aito-kun!” Aito started at Jetsam, as if finally putting something together

“Oh…”

“Oh…?”

“Oven mitts are kitchen gloves.” Aito hummed, turning the water off and reaching into the drawer that the mitts were kept in, wincing a bit as his still red hands made contact.

“What?”

“Yeah ah… mama calls them kitchen gloves and… and ours are made of cloth.” Aito explained, pulling out the silicone glove. “I thought… you know, I thought these were two different things.”

And suddenly Jetsam understood why that prehistoric 18 year old was so important. Everyone will always not know something, it’s inevitable. Maybe it was something stupid like what oven mitts were, or something less stupid like living. Nobody knows anything. One day fire may burn cold, or the sun just not rise, or our blood may not pump… and all we could do is be kind, and caring, and compassionate.

“We have to take the cookies off the sheet.” Jetsam advised, patting Aito’s shoulder as she returned the mitt to it’s drawer. “They’ll keep baking if we don’t get them on a cooling rack.”

And so, in a more comfortable silence then before, Jetsam and Aito moved the cookies to the rack, pausing only at the last one, the one Aito had made first. Jetsam was right, the shape didn’t survive too well in the oven, the tops of the heart looking more like a single hill and the bottom having lost it’s point, and yet Aito moved it without hesitation onto the rack.

“I like it.” He said softly, making sure it fit onto the rack with all the rest. “It’s a little messed up, but it’s still heart shaped.”

[westerhos]

Our Story: Chapter 6

[December 24th, 1998]

There is something to be said for the peculiar hour of the blue-morning, when a hospital beeps into quiet life. Death rattles behind drawn curtains, expletives are spat over set bones, and shots are taken in the thigh. It is not like Jamie’s Grampian refuge, which springs forth naturally from the earth. Instead, Boston GH scars the landscape, numbing loneliness through morphine drips and the tug of sheer necessity.

It is during this gradual reawakening that Claire hides in a closet, imagines the pink, wet sacs of her lungs contract and expand. She counts her breaths to release the night’s chaos, still lodged deep in her throat.

During the wild evening hours, Claire sees only what exists outside her body. Such an easy thing to do as a doctor, this sudden corporeal separation—a leap into the procedural dance, a temporary loss of oneself to the staunching of blood and the sewing of sutures.

But eventually the window of calm arrives, and the wall of dissociation begins to crumble. Claire, in her closet sanctuary, returns to her body once more, the sight of her arms and her hands like four old friends reacquainted.

Claire hunkers down between two shelves, and relief travels from foot to torso, settling somewhere inside her gut. As always, she has brought her medical bag—a gift from her husband, CER embossed in golden filigree—and rummages through it. As always, she finds the folder and flicks it open, seeking the page that is stowed inside. She is forever tethered to its final sentence, which launches a fresh rip of longing straight to her chest.

And as always, she goes back to the beginning, following the words. Fingers like greedy sponges, text absorbing into skin.

NEW YORK CITY, 11:30AM - The diner hushes when the bell tinkles, announcing the arrival of literary darling James Fraser. He is a giant in more ways than one: six-feet tall, wide-set shoulders, and a critically-acclaimed author with legions of fans. But for all his inches and his clout, Fraser is blissfully unaware of the eyes on his back. When he sits opposite me and shakes my hand, I, like the rest of the world, find him to be impulsively likable.

Sporting one month’s growth of beard and a wrinkled v-neck, it doesn’t take long for Fraser’s roguish charm to earn a complimentary meal. He is quick to thank the waitress, and for not the first time, one has to wonder how the man could possibly be single. Surely his good looks, his talent, and Reformed Bad Boy reputation draws the ladies in?

Point proven: Our waitress lingers, hungry for Fraser’s attention, but he closes his menu after ordering a glass of lemonade. (An odd choice, but then our writing heroes are full of idiosyncrasies, aren’t they?) I almost leap to console the girl, that poor thing, as she runs a self-conscious hand down her apron.

Alas, one gets the impression that it isn’t pickiness keeping Fraser romantically unattached. Nor is it misogyny or closeted homosexuality (despite what those tabloid vipers spit). James Fraser simply enjoys his place in the lonely hearts club—and is perfectly content to stay there, sipping ice-cold lemonade.

Frank’s ring glides across the lines, pauses over “single”. Such a different life, so removed from Claire’s, though here it thrums beneath her hands. Suddenly, her head grows heavier, weighted by the chain draped around her neck. Jamie’s thistle ring dangles there, cold as death. Forever tucked inside her shirts, a secret between her breasts. (Frank lets her wear it, just as she lets him wear his stained button-downs, other women smiling from the collars.)

Fraser’s second and latest novel, Two Centuries in Purgatory, released just last month to stellar reviews. Hailed as a “modern classic” by The New York Times (and truly, it is), Purgatory has found a comfortable seat at the top of the bestseller lists, and shows no signs of losing momentum. Now touring the U.S., Fraser seems nonplussed by the bustle of the Big Apple, his eighth time to our concrete jungle (“I’ve a parade of publisher meetings and interviews tomorrow,” he grumbles). Though he’s a longtime resident of both Edinburgh and Glasgow, he says no city feels like home nowadays. “Where is home then?” I ask him, and in traditional Fraser fashion, he deadpans: “Lost.”

For all his fame and glory, there is something decidedly melancholy about James Fraser. But of course, we all know why. We’ve read his books, haven’t we? We know his story.

Gillian Edgars: Are you enjoying your lemonade, Mr. Fraser?

James Fraser: Aye, verra much so. Lemonade in Scotland doesna taste like this.

GE: Mmmm, exploring the pleasures of America. I like it. Now, shall we begin? Let’s start with Two Centuries in Purgatory.

Claire brings the page a few inches closer. This is not the first time she has read the article, its edges worn to yellowing curls.

A familiar anger sinks its claws into her side as this reproduction of Jamie staggers into a flickering half-life. Gillian Edgars thinks she knows the man behind the book jacket. The entire world, for that matter, believes they can claim the bold-faced names on their hardbacks.

But, Claire seethes, do these people know that Jamie smiles in his sleep? That he’s prone to seasicknesses, could not wink at the waitress even if he tried? No. Only Claire knows these smaller, intimate truths—but still, they are not enough. Jamie is no longer only hers, but a communal being disseminated and shared amongst millions. Strangers have molded her Jamie into something new, into hollow casts of their false impressions.

Without warning, the closet door swings open and Joe Abnernathy leans in. “Knew I’d find you in here,” he says, but he draws up short. His smile falters when he sees Claire on the ground. Falters further still when he reads the headline, "Scotland’s Newest Literary Hero," on the page and on her face.

“Lady Jane, why do you do this to yourself? We’re working, I know, but can’t you try to be merry? It’s officially Christmas Eve!”

Joe kneels down, and levels his gaze with hers—the gentle but silent disappointment of an older brother. Claire holds firm when he pries the clipping from her grasp, the paper snagging the skin of her palm. It glides over and up, a shallow curve that splits into fine, shining rubies. A jeweled J, just at the base of her thumb.

Claire presses the wound to her teeth, tastes the heady, metallic taste of herself. (Later, she will trace the cut with reverence, grateful to be marred, at the very least, by a shade of Jamie.)

Joe tsks and reaches for a shelf, bringing back the first aid kit.

“Perks of hiding in a hospital supply closet. Bandages, everywhere. Take this.”

“It’s fine, Joe,” Claire assures him but accepts the bandaid anyways. “I’m fine—just a bad day and a scratch. See? No significant blood loss.”

“Thought I’d witnessed the first fatal paper cut,” Joe says, but then continues, more softly, “LJ, I thought you’d given this up. That Frank made you promise you’d stop.”

“He did,” Claire replies. “And I did too, for a while.”

Her stomach turns as the memory resurfaces: her husband, feeding the shredder a feast of papers. The machine’s tight-lipped and fanged smile destroying Claire’s collection of articles, her glimpses of Jamie. Frank had held her as the teeth had chewed, tightened his grip when she repeated his words back to him, “Time to leave the past behind.” And afterwards, once the the bin had emptied into the trash, Frank had dragged the bag of shreds to the curb. Claire had looked on, standing in the doorway, a soldier’s wife already in mourning.

(That evening, she almost snuck outside to piece the words together, for old habits die hard and a planet will always yearn for her sun. But then Frank’s arm had risen in the darkness, flopped sleepily across her waist. The weight of it had held her there, and so she’d stayed, picturing the night creatures stealing Jamie away, piece by piece.)

“I just…wanted to see what people were saying. About his new book.” She sighs. “I know I’m being ridiculous. It’s just that…”

“He’s everywhere, isn't he? In the papers, on TV. Saw they’re making a Lifetime adaptation of A Blade of Grass. Jesus.”

Claire nods. “Steering clear of that one.” (But she won’t, of course. Claire will want to see herself and Jamie on that screen, their better, manufactured selves broadcasted in technicolor.)

“You’re really gonna let me down like that, Lady Jane? I thought we’d drink cheap Scotch, put the movie on mute, and invent the dialogue ourselves. Next weekend, the two of us. Drunk and vengeful. Whaddya say?”

“A hard pass, Joe. We’ll be in Oxford for the holidays, anyways. Visiting Frank’s family.”

“Well, la-di-dah. I’ll be on this side of Atlantic throwing popcorn at my TV.” Joe leaps to his feet when his pager beeps. As he walks out the door, his hand flies to his coat pocket and he withdraws a shabby paperback. “Before I forget—a Christmas gift, for the Lady. If you’re gonna scramble your brain with nonsense, let it be Tessa’s ‘membrane of innocence’. Not ‘Scotland’s Newest Literary Hero.’”

Claire laughs and flips through The Impetuous Pirate, inhaling its smell of antiseptic and mildew and the vestiges of long-ago fingerprints. A Harlequin, taken from the hospital waiting room. “Aye aye, captain. But if it’s all the same to you, I’ll stay here in Davy Jones’ Locker for a while longer.”

Joe nods, consoling, before he turns to answer an intern's cries for help.

Alone again, Claire tucks The Impetuous Pirate inside her bag, picks up the discarded article from the floor. For the first time, she notices its publication date, October 20th, was her 31st birthday. She cannot remember the details of the occasion—Did Frank take her to a concert, or to a movie? Buy her flowers or chocolates?—and yet a foreign scene plays so clearly in her mind. It is something cut from the script of her life, the stagehand’s hook pulling her to the wings before she has a chance to speak. Cast in the closet’s dim spotlight, it unfolds as the playact that could have been but never was:

Jamie, in the New York diner, drinking lemonade. Condensation like dew drops, rolling down the pitcher. A young girl in Gillian Edgars’ place, singing a high soprano. And Claire, beside her, blowing out candles in a single huff.

As she slices the birthday cake, this almost-Claire nicks her finger on the knife’s blade. “Kiss to make it better!” the young girl cries, and Jamie does, his lips are on the sting, and then Claire’s mouth. He tastes of citrus, of yellow and sunshine, a marigold paradise in a city of dying autumn leaves. “Does it still hurt, Sassenach?” he asks her. “Not anymore,” she says. And when the little girl giggles, watching them, it is something sacred. She licks the frosting from the candles. “So what’d you wish for, Mama?” she asks, not knowing that, in a moments like these, there is no need for wishes.

Claire’s pager rings, rearranging her memories. Now she remembers her 31st birthday—and knows it did not happen in that diner. On that day, there was no little girl; no citrus kisses in a molting New York.

Instead, Frank had taken Claire to the opera house, a drawn-out affair they had both fidgeted through. Back at home, he had led her to the bedroom and its king-sized bed, had slipped off her dress while she kept her chain on. “Talk to me,” he’d panted, silver thistles against her chest. And when she came, it was not Frank’s body that drew her cries. It was not Frank’s name that rose from her lips.

Claire scans the article, skipping again to the final paragraphs. Here lies the line she reads over and over, the very reason she shells $15 for subscriptions and scavenges in bins for scraps. Anything to discover some evidence of herself, some proof that she still lives in the peripheries of Jamie’s life. And whenever she finds it, it pours into her and lingers, like wine.

GE: Your debut was quite impressive—an instant bestseller, an Oprah Book Club pick, an upcoming TV movie. I’m sure you’ve been asked this before…but allow me to be a hack for just one moment. Let me ask the nosy questions. Let me pry.

JF: I dinna have a fear of rats [SMILES]. Get on wi’ it then.

GE: I appreciate it, Mr. Fraser, I do [LAUGHS]. The protagonist’s struggles in A Blade of Grass—the financial woes, the criminal record, the years of solitude—they seem to mirror your own. Is it accurate to say that the book is autobiographical?

“Randall?” a voice calls from outside the closet. “Randall, are you in there? Mr. Duncan in Room #18 needs to be—”

“Prepped for surgery, I know!” Claire finishes. Her voice is shrill, rising with her goosebumps as she nears the interview’s end. “I’ll be out in a second, Dr. Hildegarde!”

JF: In some respects, aye, A Blade of Grass is autobiographical. Mind, I made a lot of it up myself. Embellished a few things.

GE: Oh yes, certainly. But even without your embellishments, your life does make for such an interesting tale. In a way, your struggles are what made you a literary sensation. But still, I do wonder—do you regret any of it? The gamble, the money, the arrest?

JF: [LAUGHS QUIETLY] I thank ye for the compliment, Ms. Edgars, but I hope my sins are no’ responsible for the book’s success. And for the record, they were largely exaggerated by the press.

GE: Ah, right. We rats are despicable creatures, always desperate for crumbs. But they never fill the belly, not really.

JF: Have ye tried poetry before, Ms. Edgars? You’ve a knack for it [LOOKS AWAY]. But nay, it isna the crimes themselves that I regret most. Whether they were exaggerated or no.

GE: Really? There’s something else [LEANS FORWARD]? Will you tell me then, your life’s biggest regret? Or will you keep me and your readers in the dark, forever wondering what keeps our beloved James Fraser up at night?

Now Claire closes her hand into a fist, forces herself to bleed out from that thin, half-mooned J. She imagines Jamie’s face, inscrutable to Gillian Edgars, but fixed in an expression that she, and only she, can read. And if Claire had been there on that October afternoon, sitting in the diner’s vinyl booth, she would have understood. Would’ve known already what Jamie regretted most, what he would and could not say aloud. For within this precious, final line—their spoken and unspoken wishes:          

JF: My biggest regret? I let the story end early.

(JF: I should have loved her better—God! I should have loved her better.)

_______

I have very few comments about this one, but I will say A) Jamie’s POV comes much more naturally to me—probably because I, like Jamie, love Claire so frickin’ much—so writing this was like pulling teeth. And B) As I was writing this chapter, I knew it was time to bring Jamie and Claire back together. Even I was rooting for them to reunite.

I love Joe and Claire’s friendship, and I wish I’d shown more of it in this fic (although what’s here I think fits pretty naturally). And I have to say...I love Geillis—or the idea of her: witchy, feminist, and confident—a whole lot, despite her Voyager crimes. Here, she is my Outlander version of Harry Potter’s Rita Skeeter, and I could write an entire fic from her voice any day.

[song-of-storms162]

To Treasure a Treasure -Raihan X Reader-

Christmas is a time for giving but you have always had a hard time ‘giving’ yourself a gift. Meanwhile, Raihan’s not sure what to get you until a chance encounter stemming from your unselfishness gives him an idea. Part two “Mistletoe” is up!

“So remind me again why we’re doing this?” Raihan holds up the sprig of mistletoe and dangles it in front of Leon’s face. Leon who was checking his box of decorations grinned up at him.

“Well, we’ve both been so busy with everything, Sonia suggested we do these decorations,” said Leon as he nods at the box in his arms.

“You mean the ones that require...” Raihan makes a motion with his hand and Leon nods.

“Height? Yep. Do you see Allister trying to hang these?” Leon holds up a bunch of colorful streamers. Raihan chuckles before opening the door to the room they’re using for the party.

“I suppose not.” The two place the boxes on a nearby table and Raihan takes a moment to take in the room. It was odd to see Ballonlea’s stadium descked out in Christmas decorations, it wasn’t every year that Galar’s climate decided to do a white Christmas for the whole region. Most of the time, the usual Christmas Party the Gym Leaders held took place in Circhester, where snow fell all year round. But perhaps the clouds had decided to bring snow to other towns and cities this year, Ballonlea being one of them.

“Well, (Name) would sooner have them all placed with herself than see Allister fall from a ladder,” said Leon as he began taking out decorations.

Raihan perked at the name of the Champion’s cousin. “Oh, will they be joining us?”

Leon set a Pikachu ornament back in. “Of course, and they’ll be coming with presents too.”

Raihan hoped his face hadn’t betrayed him. “Huh, that’s sweet.”

“Yep,” said Leon before turning to Raihan. “You know there’s another reason why everyone else wanted you to help place these.”

“Oh, really?” Raihan raised an eyebrow at his friend.

“Yep.” Leon took out one of the pieces of mistletoe. “That way you’ll know where all of these are.”

Leon laughed as Raihan threw one of the streamers at his face.

Meanwhile you were getting ready to board your Salamence in front of Rose Tower, having just finished a meeting with the Chairman himself regarding the Battle Tower.

Salem the Salamence let out a noise of annoyance when you brought him out. “I know you don’t like the cold,” you tried to reason with your Dragon-type. “But I just need you to drop me off at Wyndon’s shopping center, okay?”

Your Pokémon let out a huff at you before lowering their wings so you could climb onto their back. You quickly mounted your Pokémon, kissing their forehead when it turned to glance at you. “Thank you Salem.”

Salem let out another huff before it took to the skies of Galar.

It didn’t take you long to gather up your presents. You had decided to leave them with the many shopkeepers to not only have them wrapped but to also keep them out of your apartment, where too many receivers of the presents you had bought frequented. You thanked another shopkeeper before heading out of the store to head to your next one and you spotted someone familiar.

“Is that Raihan?” You questioned as you watched a tall figure in a blue hoodie make their way into one of the shops in Wyndon’s shopping street. A shop that just so happened to be your next destination. Your Silvally, Amit, who was currently using psychic to keep all your bags afloat, gazed at where you stared before nudging in the shop’s direction.

You smile at your Pokémon’s behavior. “Right, we came here to get the presents. So what if one of the receivers just happen to be here?”

You let out a huff, tightening your scarf against the cold, momentarily watching the air turn into a little cloud before making your way to the store.

Raihan was confused. He just about had everyone’s presents figured out but he still wasn’t sure what to get you. He had walked through the stores in Hammerlocke dozens of times, browsing for the right gift for all of his friends. But you, you were a puzzle he had yet to solve.

The store he had just walked in was one selling Jewelry, from rings with stones the size of your thumb to earrings with too many details too count. The clerk perked up at the sight of a Gym Leader in their store and immediately began taking out rings and necklaces from the display.

“Is the person you’re shopping for a boy or a girl?” The clerk continued to busy themselves with the accessories on display.

Raihan’s eyes scanned the jewels. “A female.”

Raihan’s short response didn’t seem to deter the shopkeeper. “Well we have a wide selection for the ladies, but I believe all pieces of Jewelry are for everyone! Could you describe them for me?”

Raihan was a little taken aback at the clerk’s enthusiasm but hesitantly answered. “Well, they’re... strong.”

“Strong, you say?” For the first time since Raihan entered the store, the clerk paused and turned to look at him.

“Yeah,” Raihan nods before looking down at the gemstones again. “They’re a really capable individual...and I care for them. A lot.”

Probably more than he should a friend, said a little voice in his head.

The clerk frowned before watching the man intenly studying the display of rings. “Sir Raihan?”

“Hm?” Raihan snapped out of his trance to look at them. The clerk folded his hands and took on a serious expression. What came next was a surprise to Raihan.

“Who are you getting this gift for?” The clerk’s interest was piqued at who could cause such an expression on the usually wild Gym Leader. The clerk had thought it odd at first, they assumed Gym Leaders went shopping at other towns when their own didn’t have what they want. For their schedules were so hectic, it would be rare if one even left the stadium for a week. So the clerk had their suspicions when Raihan walked in.

“It’s—“ but the sound of the doors opening cut Raihan off. And Raihan felt like a Magikarp out of water at who had walked in.

You.

With your face a tad red from the cold outside coupled with your pastel sweater and scarf along with fur lined boots, Raihan wasn’t sure if he was allowed to look at you. But that didn’t stop him from doing the latter as he rushed to hold the door for you, Amit and the few bags held by psychic.

“Miss (Name)! Hold on, I’ll get your gift. Sir Raihan, please continue your browsing while I get the lady’s gift.” Swiftly the clerk left the room but not before catching the way Raihan stared at you. Chuckling to themself, the clerk went to the storeroom to fetch your gift all while thinking to themself. Ah, to be in love~

Amit placed the bags on the floor before settling down in the smaller space to tug it’s legs in, tired from using psychic so long. There was a silence in the room and you surveyed the countless little accessories before you. Your eyes had landed on a one of the jewelry sets before Raihan spoke up. “Shopping for Christmas or yourself?”

You tore your eyes away and met his. “Picking up a gift, so neither actually.”

“Picking up? Is there a reason you left it at the store?” Raihan’s brows furrowed and you giggled at the expression he made.

“Well, I can’t keep them at home because so many of you guys keep dropping by,” you replied. “That and, I haven’t been able to stay at home lately so wrapping them would be futile unless I wanted a messy job.”

“You could send a message to all of us, say how we’re to keep out for a few days.”

You snort. “And would you all listen?”

“No.” Raihan’s grinning now and he’s glad for less of a silence. “I probably wouldn’t be able to anyway, I’ve been leaving my Rotom Phone at home lately.”

You frowned at him, Raihan and his phone were usually inseparable. “Why?”

“I’ve been... busy lately.” The lie is there and clear to hear but you choose to ignore it. You opened your bag to take out a treat for Amit to enjoy. “Busy huh? Then what brings you out of your den Rai?”

“Christmas shopping.” Raihan hopes the Butterfree let loose by your sudden nickname would still soon.

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Really? I wouldn’t have guessed, you looked so tense for a second there.”

You hand out a Poké Puff for Amit and your Pokémon happily accepts the treat. It made another noise of happiness as Raihan went over to give it a scratch under its chin. “I don’t think I recognise your Silvally’s current color, what type are they right now?”

“Psychic as it strengthens their Psychic move but I’m wondering if I should have gone with ice so it’d be more comfortable with today’s weather. I hope it doesn’t snow till I get home, I saw the clouds looming over and thought it’d be best if I got the gifts now in case we get snowed in.”

You don’t seem to notice Raihan’s open staring but you do notice his unusual silence. “Uh Rai?”

“It’s snowing.”

“What?” You whip your head to the shop’s display window and sure enough, you see the soft falling of snow.

“Doesn’t seem like it’ll get heavier anytime soon but who knows with the weather we’re having this year?” Raihan shrugs and you frown at the window’s direction.

“Guess I’d better head home after this, I didn’t exactly come dressed for a snowstorm,” you gestured to your sweater and scarf.

“I don’t blame you. It was sunny this morning, as sunny as winter can get but...” Raihan trailed off but your Silvally nudged you for another treat from your bag. You opened your bag to take out another Poké Puff and was surprised to see Raihan in the middle of taking his hoodie off. His face hidden behind the blue cloth and his usual headgear on the floor.

“R-Raihan, what are you doing?” You asked with the treat in your hand halfway to your Silvally’s mouth. When his head finally reappears with his headwear for once not on, he grinned at you.

“Here you go,” said Raihan as he thrust his signature blue hoodie in your face. Confused, you reach out for it after settling down the treat. Feeling the soft material, you stare at it in puzzlement before looking back at Raihan who’s trying to wear his orange headgear again.

“You can wear that till you get home,” said Raihan. “That way, you won’t have to worry about the cold for awhile.”

“What about you?” You asked and Raihan chuckles. “Well if you’re that worried for me...”

You don’t realise where his hands went until your scarf is dangling from them. “This is fair trade.”

You watch with your mouth agape as Raihan wraps the too short scarf around his neck. Raihan grins again when he finishes and his smile doesn’t falter when he realises when he realises his hoodie is still with you.

“Well now, are you going to put that on or not?” Before you can answer, you feel the blue hoodie move. But not by Raihan’s doing.

You can only watch as the familiar pink glow of Psychic surrounds the article of clothing as it floats up in the air. “See? Amit certainly agrees with me!”

Raihan’s delighted smile turns follows his hoodie and it stays on until Amita makes an attempt at putting it on you.

By shoving it straight down to your body.

Your head’s soon covered in the dark material and your muffled noises of distress have not just your hands reaching up to get it off but Raihan reaching out as well to right your Pokémon’s act. Amit probably realising what it’s done, stops the Psychic and soon the hoodie is no longer wriggling aound. Raihan’s hands are careful where he’s touching and he’s relieved when your head finally pops through the fabric.

“Never again,” you sighed in relief but you don’t notice how Raihan’s staring at you. With your hair adorably ruffled from Amit’s stunt and the oversized hoodie on you, Raihan regrets not bringing his phone so he can snap a photo.

You get your arms through the sleeves but you have to roll them up because they keep hanging off your hands. Amit grunts at you and you turn to face your Pokémon to scold it but pause at the expression of sadness on it face.

“I can’t get mad if you look at me like that, no more using Psychic to force me in clothes okay?” You Pokémon nods at you while still giving you Deerling eyes. “Raihan are-“

Your words fade as he reached out a hand to pull the hoodie’s hood out of the collar. You stay silent as he pulled the rest of it out, feeling a flush flood to your cheeks. Raihan grins as he admired his handiwork, his hands pulling away after what feels like more than a few seconds.

“There we go, now you’re all set to face the snow.”

“What about you?” You questioned as you fingered the material of the hoodie. “I thought Dragons didn’t like the cold.”

“Well, that may be so, but this dragon’s warm enough to rival a Flareon,” said Raihan as he tried to brush off the the blush from your concern. “And besides...”

Raihan reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “This Dragon is much more concerned with his Treasure’s well being.”

“I’m back with the gifts!” You and Raihan jolt away from each other at the clerk’s sudden return. The clerk had a bag in this arms that you both assumed was yours but Raihan doesn’t fail to notice the small velvet pad in the Clerk’s other hand.

And you recognise it immediately.

“Here are your gifts, miss (Name)! All wrapped of course and Sir Raihan, have you picked out a gift for your friend?”

You wordlessly take the bag and set it next to the others and you certainly overhear Raihan asking the clerk about the piece of jewelry in his hands.

“Well, I was hoping miss (Name) would change her mind about this little gem,” said the clerk. “She was looking at it the last time she was here.”

Raihan takes the accessory in, it’s not something overly extravagant, it’s not fancy enough that you could wear it everyday. Most of all, Raihan’s eyes dart to your nervous form, it suited you.

And Raihan saw the expression you made when you first saw it. Like you were shocked it was still here.

“You never actually gave me a response,” said the clerk with barely concealed excitement. “Miss (Name)! The season of giving applies to yourself as well, not just others you know.”

Raihan sees the hesitation in your eyes, and he wonders why you chose not to buy it for yourself before remembering how your job always had you putting others first. And now he sees it affecting you from treating yourself. Raihan opens his mouth to say something but then your Rotom Phone floats out of your bag, an incoming call showing on the screen.

Without hesitation you answer before briefly mumbling an “Excuse me” to both Raihan and the clerk. Your eyes widen at the call and you quickly gather your bags up, Amit quickly standing up at seeing its trainer’s rushed behavior. You’re almost out the door when you pause.

“I’m sorry I have to leave! Thank you for wrapping up my gifts again! And thank you Raihan for your hoodie, I’ll be sure to return it!”

With that, you rush out of the store with Amit trotting behind you and Raihan can see your retreating figure rush down the streets.

It’s quiet in the jewelry store again and Raihan hears the clerk put away the accessories they had brought out. Raihan surveyed the numerous accessories in the store once more before his eyes land on the jewelry you didn’t buy.

“Wait.” Raihan called out as the clerk reached a hand to it.

“How much for that piece of jewelry?”

[shijiujun]

Anon Asks: Thanks! I was thinking of another hurt/comfort, but if you could turn it into fluff then I’m all for it! When LY asked QCS “which would you choose: pride or money” and they both chose pride... I wondered what would make LY choose QCS over pride, or have QCS choose LY. Granted I’m only on episode 15 but I’m totally fine with spoilers! Or if that’s a little much... maybe a little moment where LY can flaunt his own family credentials to save QCS (and BYN)?

And here ya go for your second prompt anon! I’m sorry it kind of got away from me again and ended up being... ~4000 words.

--

wish i could

When a new gang comes to town and kidnaps Chusheng and Youning to force Boss Bai to give up his authority in the Concessions area, Lu Yao decides he’s going to go grab them himself. He is, after all, a member of the Lu family and Lu Zifu raised no weakass kid (when it counts).

--

Read it in full below

One would think that after the entire debacle with Norman and the British, after Lu Yao’s siblings playing all the tricks they know in the book to get Lu Yao to leave Shanghai and go home to Hai Ning with them, after almost having to marry Youning and into the Bai family, Lu Yao would finally be able to live the way he’s always wanted to.

He has friends who cherish him, access to all the best restaurants in the city, a nice apartment and a job he’s incredibly fond of — a job that comes with the perks of frequent free meals and pretty, expensive things when he wants them.

And even if Lu Yao had none of those things, he would stay, if only to have Qiao Chusheng in his line of vision constantly. To see the man’s indulgent smile when Lu Yao demands for things, to watch him command his men or exercising shirtless in the mornings at the police station, but mostly to enjoy the warmth that spreads in his chest like an unfurling flower whenever Chusheng looks at him like he’s the only thing that matters.

He knows he means something to Qiao Chusheng, even if they haven’t acted on their feelings yet. Lu Yao isn’t sure what he’s waiting for, but he is unbelievably happy and contented like this.

So he’s not best pleased when he returns to Shanghai after two weeks at home visiting his sister and father, to see Ah Dou and Salim at the train station, their expressions grim.

“… where’s Lao Qiao?” asks Lu Yao with a frown, dragging his humongous luggage behind him as he looks around, as if Chusheng will pop up with ice-cream for him anytime now.

“Lu-ge,” Ah Dou calls as he usually does these days, his face ashen. “Bai-laoye is looking for you.”

And that’s when Lu Yao knows everything has gone to shit.

Lu Yao is still afraid of seeing Bai Qili despite being on exceptionally good terms with his children and once-a-week dinners at the Bai manor with Chusheng and Youning.

Before his mind can run wild as to why he’s being brought to see Bai-laoye, Salim explains simply, “Inspector Qiao and Bai-xiaojie were kidnapped two days ago.”

For a split second, Lu Yao almost scoffs.

A kidnapping?

What utter nonsense. Who in Shanghai would dare to touch Qiao Si-ye, feared across the city with a fierce and deadly reputation that precedes himself? And even if Chusheng was captured, with Youning too? That noisy, ridiculous and bad-tempered daughter of the revered Green Dragon Gang’s leader?

One not only has to have the competency to actually capture Chusheng and Youning, but also a pressing death wish to go through with it.

He wants to laugh and chide them for pulling such an unbelievable joke, but another glance at both men has his thudding heart beat even faster in anxiety. Ah Dou, for one, has a cut on his left cheek and looks a little too pale to be at the peak of health, and while Salim’s expressions often border on the sides of either confusion or blankness, the way the lines at his forehead pulls at his skin is unmistakable.

Lu Yao dashes into the house when they arrive before Man-jie even opens the doors for him. A turn to the left from the mansion’s lobby takes him to the living room, where Bai-laoye is seated.

“… Lao Qiao and Youning were kidnapped?” blurts Lu Yao without a single greeting.

Bai Qili looks up at his entrance and without berating him for his lack of manners, gestures for him to take a seat and says, “You’re back.”

“Where are they? If they were kidnapped why haven’t we gone over to get them back yet?” Lu Yao asks, but sits his arse down on the expensive leather couch anyway.

The old man doesn’t say anything for a moment as he considers the tea setup in front of him on the table. The water is obviously cold, the lack of steam rising from the pot and teacups not escaping Lu Yao’s notice. Bai Qili has been sitting here for a while then, but Lu Yao can’t quite read his expression.

On the table next to the teapot is a black ornamental box.

“With Norman and Anderson out of the picture, there was a gap in power as you know,” Bai Qili begins just as Lu Yao is about to panic again, “The Green Dragon Gang and my trusted people were put into positions that will help secure our power in the region for the next few years to come, but the British slowly restructuring the way their people will be placed here has also allowed some other gangs to take advantage of the situation. I’m not sure if you’ve heard of the She Tou Gang?”

“Like… a snakehead?”

“They’re originally from Suzhou, but some dispute they had with another larger gang there forced them out of the city and here to Shanghai where they heard there are some territories to be taken.”

Why is he saying all this? Lu Yao watches in bewilderment as Bai Qili picks up a cigar and lights it, looking as if he’s aged a decade all of a sudden as he leans into the couch. One puff, two puffs, before he continues.

“And now they’ve taken Chusheng and Youning as hostages to force me to cede territory and the Concessions area to them.”

Lu Yao doesn’t understand why Bai Qili looks so shaken and afraid for a long moment — the man has always been the pinnacle of stability and a symbol of fear to Lu Yao, and in the confusion of the entire situation, he doesn’t get why Bai Qili hasn’t stormed the snakehead’s headquarters or whichever hole they’re hiding in with the rest of the gang to get Chusheng and Youning out.

With a sudden burst of clarity, Lu Yao snatches at the box on the table and opens it.

Lying at the bottom of the box are two cleanly severed fingers, one clearly of lighter skin and more dainty than the other.

On the thinner finger, Lu Yao recognises a very familiar ring. It’s the one he fake-proposed to Youning with, the one she kept even after admitting to everyone that their marriage was a simple sham, the one with a small diamond in it that made her want to wear it as an everyday accessory, to flaunt the favour that Lu Yao owes her for helping him.

And worse is the other finger. It’s one that belongs to a hand he so adores, a hand that hands him the things he wants. The hand that always, without fail, manages to bring him home.

Lu Yao inhales sharply as ice sinks into his skin and bones, feeling his gag reflex as the urge to throw up slams into his gut.

“You know where they are?” he asks, his voice eerily even. “And they’re from Suzhou you said?”

“San Tu, sit down. I have until tomorrow to get to the papers and make an announcement,” the man continues. “I’m not risking their lives, nor yours. It is only some property, some money and investments. We can deal with them after we get Chusheng and Youning out.”

Lu Yao’s head is running through all the possibilities, and it takes him less than a minute to decide on the best course of action.

“Tell me where they are, and lend me Salim. I’ll get them back,” he declares. “Lao ye-zi, hold off on the announcement. If I’m not back by the next morning, it’s not too late to consider that option.”

Bai Qili finally looks up, and the way his gaze rests on Lu Yao right now, it’s as if he’s seeing this man, who Youning and Chusheng have both claimed as one of their own, for the very first time. Seeing him properly, seeing him beyond his vanity, his greed and how timid he usually is.

This Lu Yao is finally looking like a member of the Lu family, one of Lu Zifu’s children.

And he knows that Chusheng must’ve seen something in him, to be so willing to lay his life on the line for his well-being and safety.

“… if any of them lose another finger,” the man concedes, “I’ll do as I planned. And if you end up losing a finger, I’m not going to deal with Lu Zifu or Lu Miao either. If this all goes to shite, we can all go to war. Ah Dou and Liu Zi know where they’re at. Take them both.”

That’s as much approval as he’s going to get.

Lu Yao shakes his head, “I’ll only need Salim and the rest of the men at the station on standby. Liu Zi and Ah Dou should stay with you in case they’ve got another plan in place, lao ye-zi. I don’t want Youning or Lao Qiao scolding me either if you get hurt.”

Bai Qili scoffs, and even though it’s entirely illogical, he suddenly feels a little more… settled. A little more at ease, as if Lu Yao can truly solve this without it escalating into war.

On the way out, Lu Yao uses the house phone to call his sister, who isn’t amused that he’s calling for a favour only a day after he left home.

When she hears what is going on, however, Lu Miao sighs audibly on the other end of the call.

“I’ll send you what you need to the station,” she ends up saying. “San Tu, San Huo and San Mu are ready if you need them, but I’ll prefer to not have to explain myself to the British ambassador again for almost causing another war.”

“It won’t get to that,” Lu Yao simply says, and Lu Miao has no choice but to let her little brother do as he wants. “All I need to know is that you’ll back me up if it comes to that.”

Ah Dou looks unconvinced when Lu Yao tells him what he’s about to do, but keeps quiet and drives the man to the station, where Lu Yao unceremoniously heads into Chusheng’s office and waits for the telegraph his sister promised to send over. It takes only half an hour, and when he does manage to read through the information, he asks Ah Dou to gather the men at the station and wait for his call, and gets Salim to drive him to the She Tou gang’s location instead.

Salim pauses for a second, as if realizing that this might not go well, and Lu Yao doesn’t pressure him. After all, the man has children and a wife waiting for him back at home, and if he refuses, Lu Yao is fine with going alone.

“… can you help me tell Inspector Qiao that I’d like a week off, paid leave, if we survive this?”

At that, Lu Yao snickers, despite the severity of the situation.

“A week off and a watch, how about that?”

“Yes sir!”

===

Youning is sniffling quietly next to him, her face all dirtied and hair a mess, dress ripped in several places. Her hands aren’t bound, unlike his, and she’s pressed close to him, her eyes darting occasionally to the hand with a missing finger on it. The blood has stopped flowing, but Youning still feels afraid, angry and upset all in one.

Thankfully, aside from the dirt and maybe some scratches here and there, Youning is safe and in one piece. All they did was take her ring yesterday.

Chusheng would do anything, even exchanging his life for hers. It is all his fault for being careless, and is it dumb of him to be relieved, that Lu Yao is not in Shanghai and wasn’t with them when they got nabbed?

He knows what they want, and he also knows that even if Bai lao-ye agrees to their terms, it’s not a full guarantee that Youning and he will walk out of here alive. After taking his finger, Chusheng can imagine the old man wavering — he is soft at heart despite all his years of experience, of bloodshed and war after war, especially when his daughter is involved.

All he needs to do is find an opportunity for Youning to escape, and he doesn’t care what happens to him.

The She Tou gang is made up of men younger than both he and Youning are, but what they lack in years of experience in the underworld they make up for in their sheer numbers and ruthlessness. Chusheng has heard of their leader, Xu Boying. At a tender age of 23, he managed to expand the gang’s power and increase their numbers precipitously, and if the British hadn’t run the gang out of Suzhou, it is likely they would have taken over that territory in another year or so.

No matter how good Chusheng is, faced with almost fifty assailants and with Youning at his side, his hands were tied when they were caught.

And if the situation was different, Chusheng would be plenty impressed by the young man’s capabilities, ambition and shrewdness. Within days of settling in Shanghai, Xu Boying managed to hit Bai Qili where it hurts and rather effectively.

He almost laughs. After just half a year of being Inspector, half a year after meeting Lu Yao, he’s entirely lost his touch. He’s gotten used to the regular life, of dealing with employees and work from 9am to 5pm most days when they don’t have cases, of having breakfasts and dinners with Lu Yao, of being a normal, regular son to his adoptive father of sorts, of meeting up with friends for a drink or a night out. No fights, no wars, no fear and just… being safe. Being just like any other person living well in Shanghai, with a stable job, with good friends surrounding him and a supportive family.

And someone he’d like to protect, and keep happy, for the rest of his life.

“We should just kill them,” one of the younger boys in the gang snaps. “What if the Green Dragon Gang brings their people here and just slaughters the rest of us?”

“That’s what the message was for. Be patient, Xiao Han. Especially since we have Bai Qili’s only daughter, that old fart won’t dare to just come in with all guns blazing. Look at us here. One wrong move and we’ll light up the explosives, and then Bai Qili is left with nothing. Trust me, he won’t dare to take the risk.”

“Ge…” Youning murmurs, looking at him.

“Don’t be afraid,” Chusheng repeats, forcing a small smile for her. “You have me, remember?”

The doors to the warehouse they’re being held in opens suddenly, and the both of them look up as a young boy sneaks in, making a beeline straight for Xu Boying.

“What is it?” the leader frowns.

“There’s someone outside. Two men,” the boy reports hesitantly. “He says he’s here for the two of them, and that he brings a message from Bai Qili. One of them is in uniform, from the station. The other… we’ve never seen before. Very tall, dressed in an expensive suit.”

At the sound of that, Chusheng and Youning exchange glances.

It can’t be…

Before Xu Boying can say anything else, the doors slam open loudly, and in saunters one Lu Yao, indeed dressed in an expensive suit as the boy said. Chusheng doesn’t recognize this navy blue set at all, and horror and panic claws at him.

Not Lu Yao, he thinks, not his San Tu.

“Great, looks like everyone is here,” Lu Yao says, uncaring of the guns raised at him at the moment, as if he’s just here for dinner.

“Who the fuck are you-“

“I’m here to take them back, of course,” Lu Yao barrels right over Xu Boying’s question, looking every bit the expensive, spoilt and rich motherfucker he is as he strolls in, almost looking bored.

His eyes rove over both Youning and Chusheng for a fraction of a second before he returns his attention to Xu Boying and his men.

Meeting Lu Yao’s gaze earlier, Chusheng almost cannot believe what he’s seeing. This is a Lu Yao he’s not familiar with, a San Tu he doesn’t usually see.

“You must be Xu Boying,” Lu Yao says, settling comfortably into the seat opposite his at the table. “The Xu family’s bastard son. I’ve heard a lot about you from my sister. Can you not point the guns at me? I’m a little scared of guns.”

There. Right there, that’s the Lu Yao Chusheng knows.

Nostrils flaring in anger at the sound of the word ‘bastard’, Xu Boying slams both hands into the table and stands up, gun in hand and pointed at Lu Yao.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?! You better look at the current situation clearly. I don’t care who Bai Qili sent as a negotiator, but if he doesn’t do what we want, we’re going to blow his daughter and that inspector up. They’re sitting right in the middle of the new shipment we got. If you want them alive, you better tell me who the fuck you are and what you’re doing here-“

“My name is Lu Yao,” Lu Yao answers, seemingly cooperative. “And you’re not going to do that. In fact, you are going to leave Shanghai first thing tomorrow morning.”

At that, guffaws and laughter echo in the warehouse, incredulous at the audacity this man has. After all, it’s more than thirty guns trained on him on the inside of the warehouse and many more at the back, who will come running once Xu Boying starts yelling for them.

“San Tu, what are you doing!” Youning calls from the side.

“Shhh, I’m having a serious discussion here,” Lu Yao hushes her with a glare.

“You don’t care much about your father or your stepmother,” Lu Yao turns to look at the man again. “But you care about your younger brother. It so happens that Xu Bolai enlisted in my brother’s private army up in Hai Ning, and honestly, it isn’t that difficult to have my Da-ge single him out and deal with him.”

“How do you know my brother’s name?!” Xu Boying snarls, his hand shaking a little.

“Do you think I’m lying? Also, where do you think you’ve been getting your stock of arms and explosives from? I’ve set my sister on it. That British middleman you’ve been speaking to won’t be able to provide you with any more goods,” Lu Yao continues. “That’s how you’ve been making your money for the gang in the past two years, correct? It’s simple enough for my sister, who’s Secretary at the Commissioner’s Office, to find the necessary people to arrest him.”

“Not to mention I’ve also called my Er-ge, who is Commander of his own army stationed in Nantong city, and can be here within the next few hours. Bai laoda might not be able to do anything to you guys, that is true.”

“But I can,” Lu Yao concludes, leaning forward slightly and holding Xu Boying’s gaze. “Just my sister alone can wipe out the She Tou Gang without having to lift even one of her fingers. Take on the Lu family and I can have you disappear at the end of the day. You, and your brothers included.”

“Don’t believe me?” Lu Yao smiles, putting both hands up as he shrugs. “Try it. If Qiao Chusheng, Bai Youning and I don’t walk out of here in the next hour, we all die together. You’re not going to get away. Dying here is the least of your concerns because if you’re caught by either Bai Qili, or anyone affiliated with the Lu family, you’ll wish you were dead.”

Silence ensues after Lu Yao’s monologue.

“… Ge,” one of the boys at the side says with a frown. “I think… this is Lu Yao, that consulting detective the station hired under Qiao Si. He is the Lu family’s youngest son. The Lu family… in Hai Ning.”

Whispers break out at that.

Lu Yao is satisfied momentarily to see that his family’s name is still able to get them somewhere. He’s not fond of invoking his dad or any of his sibling’s names, but desperate times, desperate measures.

“I’ll even wait for you to verify the information I just told you,” Lu Yao offers, gracious even in a crisis.

When all the men just stare at him, Lu Yao sighs.

“Look, I didn’t even bring anyone other than Salim with me. The Green Dragon Gang and the guys at the police station are nowhere near here. I could have brought them with me, you know. Either way, if my Da-ge, Er-ge and Da-jie don’t hear from me in the next hour, you and your friends are done for.”

“If you cooperate with me, at least you get a headstart on running,” Lu Yao finishes with a flourish.

That little bitch, Youning thinks, staring wide-eyed at this flamboyant, ridiculous and vain young master, flaunting his wealth and the power his family has without a single care in the world.

More than that, he’s telling the whole world that Chusheng and Youning are under his protection. Under the Lu family’s protection, that these two individuals who’ve lived and breathed the underworld all their lives, are people worth protecting.

Lu Yao is staking a claim, that’s what.

===

“Lao Qiao, does it hurt?” Lu Yao panics in the car later, Salim pressing his foot down on the accelerator so they get out of this ridiculous area as soon as possible. “Lao Qiao, you’re missing a finger, you’re missing… you’re missing a finger- Salim drive faster, let’s get to the hospital!”

Chusheng is quiet, but his eyes are only for Lu Yao as the tall and fair-skinned man fusses over him, acting both like a child and a nagging mother at the same time.

“It’s okay,” he finally says, lifting his uninjured hand to squeeze at Lu Yao’s. “It’s just a finger. And it’s on my left hand, it won’t stop me from firing a gun or protecting you when needed. Calm down, San Tu.”

“Yeah, where did your bravado from earlier go?” Youning turns around in the front seat to glare at him. “You scared me!”

Lu Yao glares at her, then looks down at her hands — her pristine, beautiful hands with all fingers still intact. “I had to save you guys, no? Also why do you have all your fingers and Lao Qiao is missing one?!”

“Ahhh, ge, listen to him! He wants me to lose a finger!”

“They sent two fingers to the manor,” says Lu Yao through gritted teeth, “And one with that ring on it.”

Before the two can get into a further argument, Chusheng tugs at Lu Yao’s sleeve.

“Are you really going to let them go?” he asks.

“They took a finger from you,” Lu Yao says, biting at his lips and looking away. “I told Ah Dou to round all of them up once they get to the port, because that’s definitely where they’re headed next.”

“Smart,” Chusheng grins, and damn it, he feels proud of Lu Yao right now.

“… I saved you, so shouldn’t you repay me for that?” Lu Yao asks next, “I’m so tired! I came to get you guys the moment I got off the train, and you have to compensate me for the emotional trauma I had going through that. I didn’t even get to eat dinner because you said you would bring me to dinner when I return, but look at you now-“

“Lu San Tu! Chusheng-ge has lost a finger and he’s probably got several broken bones and what  not on his body, can you please be nicer to him-“

Chusheng chuckles, because god, he has missed this. In the last two weeks while Lu Yao was gone, this was what had been missing. Just Lu Yao in their lives, filling it up with noise, stupidity and laughter.

Watching Lu Yao earlier as he stared down a group of people he would usually be so afraid of, all for him and Youning, and Chusheng doesn’t know how much more he can love him.

“I’ll repay you,” Chusheng agrees. “I’m missing a finger but… I suppose in compensation, I’ll give myself to you, if you’ll have me.”

Everyone in the car goes silent at that. Both Salim and Youning suddenly pretend to be listening to anything but the conversation between both men in the backseat, Youning having the luxury to appreciate the stars in the night sky frmo where she’s seated.

“… what’s the use of having you,” Lu Yao mumbles, his cheeks heating as he looks away.

“You can have all of me, which means my house, my money… and me,” Chusheng smiles, leaning forward to catch Lu Yao’s eyes again. “Are you sure you don’t want any of it?”

Lu Yao doesn’t reply, and nothing else is said until they reach the doors of the hospital. There at the entrance stands Bai lao-ye, and despite her less-than-ideal relationship with her father, Youning is quick to exit the car and run into her father’s arms.

Right before Lu Yao leaves the vehicle, he mumbles something under his breath, his voice low enough for only Chusheng to hear.

“Chusheng!”

“Lao ye-zi,” Chusheng greets with a smile, and the man takes one good look at him before ushering him into the hospital lobby.

Lu Yao follows, only a step behind and not even losing a finger can put a damper on Chusheng’s mood right now after what he heard.

===

Of course I want all of it.

All your money, everything you own.

And you.

--

Notes:

*She Tou Gang (蛇头帮) - I don’t know if this gang was actually operating in the same years and where they came from, I literally just googled for existing gangs in China for reference XD

*As I explained on a previous post, it’s likely that Lu Yao’s brothers were named San Huo (fire) and San Mu (wood) as a naming tradition from Lu Miao (Lu San Shui - water) and Lu Yao (Lu San Tu - earth), since we Chinese are really fond of the four elements

*Bai lao-ye (老爷) or lao ye-zi (老爷子) - Used to refer to Bai QIli as the master of the Bai family or dad in the family in a sense

[lailannajacobs]

Heart to a Gunfight - Chapter Six

Pairing: Bucky x fem!reader

Summary: You didn’t want to help Bucky Barnes make it through the party by pretending to be his fake girlfriend, after all, you had just met him. You also didn’t plan on the charade lasting as long as it did.

Warnings: Pure fluff!

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: Managed to get a little writing done amidst hectic midterms! Hopefully there aren’t too many typos and hope you guys enjoy! Always love your feedback! <3 

Heart to a Gunfight | Chapter Six

“You know, I was kidding when I said you had terrible aim,” Bucky whispered, inches away from your ear.

Even though you knew he was being cautious by whispering, you were still annoyed that he had to get so close to you. The only people around were Peggy and Steve, who had challenged you to a game of bean bags and they knew of your scheme. He didn’t risk being overheard. The thought took you by surprise. Why? You took in a deep breath, reminding yourself that you were supposed to be a couple. A couple didn’t get annoyed at physical proximity. You hadn’t gotten annoyed with it either until now, so what the hell was wrong?

“Little did you know, you were actually right,” You whispered back, winding up for your next toss.

The bag flew too high, missing the board completely and landing in the grass somewhere behind it. At least you hadn’t tossed it over the fence this time.

You groaned.

The only perk to your humiliating display of bean bag skills was that you and Bucky never had a chance of winning in the first place, even if you hadn’t had the worst aim ever. Not against Peggy and Steve. Luckily for you, Kira and Brad had decided to talk to the future bride and groom once they had finished eating, and you hadn’t seen them since. It was the only thing that made this miserable game worth it.

It hadn’t taken long for Bucky to figure out that his teasing words were truer than he ever could have imagined, but it surprised you that it had taken him two games to actually say something about it. And unfortunately for you, he was doing such a good job at pulling your team that you couldn’t even get mad at him for saying anything. He was the reason you weren’t getting your assess kicked out here.

After Peggy’s perfect toss, Bucky handed you the next beanbag even though it was his turn to throw, “Go ahead. You need the practice.”

“Thanks,” You said dryly, “You know, you’re enjoying this far more than you should be.”

He grinned, “I’m not enjoying this at all. How can I when we’re losing by a landslide?”

“Tell that to your face.”

He laughed and you rolled your eyes.

Trying a new stance and hoping it would help, you let the bean bag go and deflated as it hit the board with a decided smack. At least you had hit the board this time.

“Is this why we never do anything that involves aiming?” Peggy laughed.

“I know my strengths,” At your best friend’s amusement, you couldn’t help the smile that bloomed on yours, “Why would I do anything that doesn’t play to them we have so many other interesting things we can do?”

“To get better at it,” She answered pointedly.

You shrugged and watched as the rest of them took their turns, throwing with more aim and grace than you could ever dream of having. For the sake of maybe winning a game, you almost suggested you sit the rest of game out, but Bucky turned to you with the bean bag in his hand, raising a brow in challenge as if he knew exactly what was going through your head.

Snatching it from his hand, you walked up to the line and rocked back on your heels, wondering why you were trying so hard when really you could chuck it with your eyes closed and have the same chances of getting it in. You were about to let it go when Bucky spoke up.

“Wait, wait, wait. I can’t let you do this.”

You turn to him, a hand on your hip, “Do what?”

“Don’t look so insulted,” He chuckled, coming to stand right behind you so that his body lined up with yours.

“What are you doing?”

He backed up a bit, brows furrowed, “Making sure you don’t make a fool of yourself.”

You turned and swatted his chest.

“Be nice,” He grinned, “I’m only trying to help.”

“I’d say you were actually trying to get ahead in our little game,” You turned to face the board, eyeing the thing distrustfully.

His hand slid down your arm to cup your hand, “And what if I am?”

You tried to ignore the electric hum you seemed to feel where ever your skin touched his, “Then I’d say I don’t like it.”

“Why? Because that would put me in the lead?” He asked tauntingly, “Afraid you won’t be able to catch up?”

“Just shut up and tell me what I need to do,” You said through clenched teeth.

“Whatever you say, Speedy.”

You wanted to smack him again but figured Steve and Peggy were getting tired of waiting for you to throw the stupid bean bag.

“You need to focus on your hand and arm,” He said.

“You want me to look away from the board?” You asked, incredulously.

“No, keep your eyes on it, but make sure you throw straight,” He paused, adjusting his grip and turning your arm in the process, “You’re so focused on the board that you forget your arm is the one throwing. Breath. Relax. Wind back. Pause. Then, let it go.”

Bucky guided you through the motions, voice patient, and you watched the bean bag sail through the air. It brushed against one of the holes, and you held your breath until it fell through.

You burst out of his arms and jumped up and down in a victory dance you couldn’t help. It felt too good to finally get one in.

Giddy and laughing, you turned to Steve, “Did you see that? I actually got it in!”

Grinning, Steve pretended to check a clip board, “Unfortunately, that’s still not enough for a win.”

“Doesn’t matter!” You ran to the board, picked up the bean bag that had fallen through and hoisted it up like a trophy, “I got one in!”

When your eyes fell on Bucky, you noticed him staring at you with the corner of his mouth slightly lifted, an odd look on his face that you couldn’t identify, “What?”

“Nothing,” He shook his head as if you had startled him from some far away thought.

Before you could press him further, you heard a voice that you wished you never had to hear again, “Mind if we jump in on the next game?”

“Not at all Kira, Steve and I were just leaving,” Peggy replied, pure amusement lacing her words, “There was something we needed to talk to the bride about.”

You shot her dangerous look and Peggy smiled as she walked off, mouthing the words ‘good luck’.

Glaring at her some more for good measure, you waited until you knew you couldn’t put it off any more and whirled to face Kira and Brad, a smile plastered onto your lips.

“So, who starts?”

Kira shrugged, “Why don’t you. It seems fairer that way.”

You weren’t about to rise to her taunts, instead you said, “How about best two out of three?”

You felt Bucky’s eyes bore in you. He was probably wondering why the hell you wanted to make the game longer than it had to be. But the more games you played the more practice you’d get and maybe, the two of you could win two of the games that way.

The first game was over before it had even begun. Kira and Brad were extra affectionate, distracting Bucky every time they kissed after a throw. Most of his throws missed and even with Bucky’s pointers, you didn’t manage to get any more shots in either.

You almost made an excuse to leave after the first game but Bucky was the one who started the next one before you could. It was hard to know what had changed between the first game and the second, but there was a fire in his eyes that gave you the impression that you were going to win this one. Stepping up your game, you managed to sink another one in, causing you to take the lead with Brad’s final shot left.

From behind you, Bucky draped his arms loosely around your shoulders, chin resting on your head. You leaned back into him but kept your eyes trained on Brad.

“You think he’s going to get it in?” Bucky whispered.

“I hope not. I don’t think I could lose to them twice in a row.”

“Three times if you’re counting the three-legged race,”

You rolled your eyes, “Thanks for the reminder, Soldier,”

“Just a little incentive for you to step up your game.”

You jabbed him in the stomach with your elbow, “You’re an idiot.”

“Maybe, but at least I’m an idiot with aim,” He chuckled.

Brad let go of the bean bag and you watched as it hit the edge of a hole but didn’t fall through. Bucky’s arms slipped down around your waist and tightened as he swayed from side to side in a funny little victory dance.

You laughed, relived you finally beat them at something, but knew it didn’t really count. You’d have to win the next one for it to.

“I’m just keeping things interesting,” Brad joked, jogging over to collect the bean bags.

Kira’s face was scrunched up unhappily, but it quickly smoothed out when she noticed you looking.

“You guys are still playing?” Steve’s voice announced his and Peggy’s arrival, “What did we miss?”

“It’s one-one in a best two out of three.” You answered.

Peggy grinned, “Seems like we came back at the right time.”

You weren’t sure if you were glad that your friends were here for support or if you would rather not have any spectators at all. Either way, they were here now so you just had to hope that the game went well.

You let Bucky start, hoping he would set the tone of the game, rather than have it start it with you missing. Watching as he stepped up to the line, you held your breath and realized you were far more invested in a game of bean bags then you should have been. It didn’t matter. Being invested was the only way you were going to win.

The little bag sailed through the air, not touching anything as it passed through the hole. Steve and Peggy began clapping and you rolled your eyes at them, but found yourself grinning when Bucky approached you, hand in the air, waiting for a high five.

When your hands touched, his fingers clasped around yours and he pulled you into a hug. His lips brushed the edge of your ear as he said, “Let’s win this.”

You pulled back, your best come-and-get-me grin on your lips, “Have you ever known me to do anything less?”

“Never,” He smirked, “From the moment I met you, I’ve never seen you be anything other than competitive.”

“Good,” You tried to keep the smile from your face, enjoying the unspoken words between you, “Then you’ll know we’ve got this.”

“I know we’ve got this. It’s you and me, Speedy. Despite with that aim of yours.”

It was hard to look away from the intensity of his blue eyes and somehow you managed to reply, “Of course we do.”

You weren’t sure you did. Kira and Brad had gotten almost every throw in one hole or another and now, the last throw was on you.

You stared at the board, hating the thing. Really, it was your aim the problem, but the holes seemed to be waiting there, taunting you, filled with yellow bean bags instead of your red ones. A deep breath in and out steadied your mind and you focused on the hole worth the most. Bucky had managed to put in every single one of his throws, which meant there was only one way for you to win. You needed to get it in the hole worth the most points to win.

The sound of Kira’s annoyed sigh almost drew your attention from your target, but you remained focused. So what if this was taking longer than she wanted it to. Most of you being here was to piss her off anyways.

Pulling back, you paused, your extended hand behind your back, ready for the final throw.

“You got this, Speedy,” Bucky murmured, his voice soft but full of confidence.

His words steadied you like they had the entirety of the game. No matter how many times you had missed, he never seemed to lose faith in you, even if you almost had yourself. Dividing your attention between the target and your arm like he had showed you, you sent the bean bag flying and watched it sail through the air and into the hole.

Stunned, you stood, not believing what had just happened. When it finally hit you, you whirled around to find Bucky, who scooped you up into a tight hug before you even knew what was happening. You held on tighter, your arms wrapped around his neck, eyes closed and laughing as he twirled you around.

Before you could get dizzy, he put you down, his arms wrapped loosely around your waist. You were still so close to him that you had to tilt your head back to look up at his grinning face. It was a look that made your breathing shallow and one you wished you saw on his face more often.

“I knew you could do it,” He murmured, blue eyes bright.

You shrugged, attempting to feign nonchalance but knowing you were failing miserably, “Guess my aim’s not so terrible after all.”

“Must be my teaching,” He teased.

You narrowed your eyes, “Look at you, taking credit for my shot.”

“I would never, Speedy,” His voice softened, “But we’re a team, right?”

“We are a team,” You echoed, barely loud enough for him to hear.

His grin fell into a little smirk, the look pulling your attention to his lips. You quickly pulled your attention back up to his eyes but noticed he was staring at you with a funny look on his face.

“You’d swear the two of you just won the olympics,” Steve joked, causing you to flinch in surprise.

Bucky’s arms tightened at the movement, but loosened just as quickly, letting you go.

You stepped out of his arms and faced the rest of them, “Bean bags is an olympic sport at weddings. Didn’t you know, Rogers?”

He laughed and nodded, wrapping his arm around Peggy’s waist.

“Congratulations,” Kira sneered, “Let’s hope the newlywed game will be just as fun.”

Grabbing Brad’s hand, she steered him away. He shot a confused and apologetic smile over his shoulder and when they were far enough away, you and Peggy grinned at each other.

“I’d have to say, the two of you are getting better and better at this,” She said.

You looked back at Bucky, expecting to see the same, victorious grin on his face, but there was nothing lighthearted or amused there. His gaze was ensnared by Kira, and you knew by the way he pursed his lips that some part of him felt bad. You couldn’t fathom why, especially when it was clear to you that the only reason she spent so much time around Bucky was to make him feel worse. But obviously there was still a part of him that felt for her. What made it worse was that even if the evening wasn’t going exactly to Kira’s plans, she was succeeding in reminding him of his misery all the same. You wanted to spill your beer on her or something, she made you so mad. But apart from acting like a petty child, you just weren’t sure what more you could do to take Bucky’s mind off of her.

“Yeah, we are getting pretty good at it,” You mumbled, thinking of the way he had looked when you had scored the last point, wishing you could get that look back, “I’ll even give you the point, Bucky, for pulling the team. I won’t even ask Peggy for her ruling.”

He returned to the conversation at the sound of his name like you had hoped and smiled - only it looked nothing like the easy, natural smile you had started getting used to, “I think that means we’re tied now. Right, Speedy?”

“Not for long,” You tried for the same competitive banter the usually seemed to pull him out of his own head.

To your relief, it seemed to work.

“Speedy,” His eyes pinned you down with a daring stare, “I’m just getting started.”

You jut out your chin in challenge, “Good. I was beginning to think this was going to be too easy.”

He chuckled and slung an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in close, “Prepare to be dazzled.”

“I doubt that,” You looked to Peggy for confirmation, “How prepared should I really be? Everything I’ve seen so far has been pretty average.”

Bucky scoffed, his breath tickling your cheek.

“You could be surprised,” She said, staring between the two of you, brows furrowed.

You almost asked what that look was all about, but Steve pointed to the head table, “Looks like they’re bringing out dessert. We should go sit.”

Peggy took Steve’s hand and winked at you, and you had no clue what it meant or why she would.

[yilingradishfairy]

Little Match-Seller

Link to AO3 (1502 words)

Written for Day 22 of the Untamed Fall Fest 2020 - Warmth. Thanks again @fytheuntamed for hosting these; they’re so much fun! 

Summary: A-Yuan lights matches from a box he’s certain Wei-gege must have tampered with. He is visited by three warm visions and a ghost that has come to take him to his family.

(or, the Little Match Seller AU. What it says on the tin.)

A/N: I’ve been wanting to rewrite more fairy tales! This fic is based on the Little Match Girl story, committed to paper by Danish author Han Christian Andersen in the mid-19th century. And mid-19th century Denmark has like nothing in common with *hand-wave* xianxia-time Ancient China. So I’ve sort of mashed the two universes together to create one where canon events are happening and flying cultivators are a thing, but matches are also a thing. And match-sellers. And Christmas. Hey, if you can’t have everything you want in life, write fanfiction!

Skrrrrch! 

A-Yuan gasped, almost dropping the match he had just lit. The flame flickered, and he immediately moved to shield it from the bitter night wind. Tiny though it was, it instantly filled his little alcove with warmth, providing more heat than any match he’d ever used before. He was so distracted by the sudden relief from the cold that it took him a second to notice the stove that had appeared with it. 

It was a giant brick stove, and so much like the one he faintly remembered his mother using. It was so bright and so warm, and it felt just like home! A-Yuan tentatively stretched one bare foot towards it. He had lost his little slipper much earlier in the day. Usually, whenever he went out selling, he would go with Ning-ge. The last time his shoe had fallen apart, Ning-ge simply carried him around for the rest of the day. But they were all gone now. They left yesterday: Qing-jie, Ning-ge, Uncle Four, Granny. They had told him to stay behind and hide like a good boy, and he did. He hid all night, wrapped up in the cover of a hollow tree. Then, in the morning, he set out with their wares like Ning-ge always did. 

There was only so much that the adults would let him help with, so he was determined to sell the entire matchbox today. But, cold as it was, nobody seemed to want his matches. The people of Yiling rushed around with nervous, fearful looks on their faces. A-Yuan shuffled stubbornly through the muddy snow, hoping that when it got colder, people would finally take notice. Unfortunately, the only person who noticed him was the little girl who stole his left shoe, the one that hadn’t fallen apart. Still, he trudged onward, until the cold wind grew so unbearable, A-Yuan was forced to take shelter in the corner between houses. And that was where he lit the match. 

He was leaning closer to the stove, working up the courage to reach out and touch it, when the match suddenly went out. In its absence, the cold felt even harsher than before. A-Yuan missed the bright flame immediately. And the stove that had so mysteriously appeared. He wondered if Wei-gege had messed with it. Qing-jie kept telling him not to play with the matches, but Wei-gege doesn’t always listen. But he always makes funny things happen, so maybe he had done something to the matches. 

A-Yuan debated whether he should light another match. On the one hand, Qing-jie would be upset that he was wasting matches. But then again, she might be upset that he’s still out in the village selling when he should have finished and gone home by now. They should have finished and come home by now, he thought resentfully. They shouldn’t have left me behind. With that thought, he lit the second match. 

Skrrrrch!

Wei-gege definitely messed with these matches, A-Yuan thought. This tiny flame was just too warm and too bright. And, in addition to the unnatural warmth, the match brought another vision. From the light of the match, A-Yuan watched a large feast blossom before him. Not only could he see it, but he could smell it, too. He couldn’t remember ever seeing that much food at one time. It reminded him of the day he had met Rich-gege. He had taken him and Wei-gege to a fancy restaurant and let them order whatever they wanted. When Wei-gege had taken A-Yuan back home, they discovered a feast there, too. They had let him eat as much as he wanted that night. But this feast made that one look like table scraps. His stomach rumbled, and he reached out towards the bowl of soup (maybe it would be as good as the one Ning-ge had brought home once), when the match suddenly sputtered out. 

The darkness swarmed back in, leeching away the warmth of the match like it had never been there. A-Yuan didn’t think twice about lighting a third match. 

Skrrrrch! 

Warmth bloomed again, and this time, a giant Christmas tree flickered into being. It was so tall, A-Yuan thought it must be as high as a mountain. The colorful ornaments adorning the tree sparkled merrily, and A-Yuan let himself slide into familiar daydreams about his family. He couldn’t remember much about them, though he knew their faces from photographs. His favorite one was all of them laughing and hugging in front of a Christmas tree. He would stare at the photo and try to remember how their laughs sounded and how their hugs felt. He missed them so much. But he tried not to think about it, because whenever he would think about it, he would talk about it. And whenever he would talk about it, it seemed to make Wei-gege and Qing-jie and Ning-ge sad. But he couldn’t help missing them, whenever he passed those merrily lit shopkeepers’ windows. 

He had just reached out to touch one of the fancy colored pictures hanging off a branch when the match went out. But he could still see the Christmas lights. They rose higher and higher until they melted into the sky, joining the stars. Then, one of the stars zipped down, trailing a line of fire across the dark sky. That would be someone dying, he thought, remembering what Qing-jie had told him. When a star falls down from heaven, a soul goes up to replace it. He remembered her pointing out which ones his mom and dad and sister had become. He remembered all those nights watching shooting stars, wondering whose souls would be replacing them. He remembered searching the sky a week ago for the star that was about to fall. The one Wei-gege would replace. 

This star was different from others he had watched, though. This one kept falling and falling and falling, seeming to fall right towards him. Maybe this is the star I will replace, A-Yuan thought. Turning to the wall with new determination, he struck another match. 

Skrrrrch! 

The warmth bloomed immediately, though nothing seemed to accompany it. The star in the sky was still shooting towards him, except now it has fallen right on top of him and taken the form of … 

“Rich-gege!” A-Yuan cried. There he was, standing on his sword, floating impossibly in the air. He looked more magnificent than ever, scary but in an I’ll-protect-you way. A-Yuan’s lip trembled, and he tried really hard not to bawl again like he had the first time they met. 

“Oh, Rich-gege, please don’t go!” He wanted to lurch forward and cling to his leg, but he didn’t want to let go of the match. He couldn’t let this vision disappear. 

“A-Yuan?” Rich-gege knelt down in front of him in concern. A-Yuan realized that his body was shaking. “Tell me what is wrong,” he said, and A-Yuan sniffled. 

“The m-match … it’s gonna go out … it'll burn out soon,” he tried to explain, his words tripping and tumbling over each other. “And then you’re gonna leave me, just like the stove and the food and the tree!” And Wei-gege and Qing-jie and Ning-ge and … “You can’t leave, Rich-gege!” In a panic, he quickly struck all the matches against the wall, producing a loud skrrrrch! 

Rich-gege’s eyes widened. “A-Yuan!” He knocked the burning matches out of his hands and into the snow, where they began sputtering. 

“No! No!” A-Yuan scrambled to try to save Wei-gege’s matches, but Rich-gege gently pulled him away from the smoking pile of ash and snow. A-Yuan clung to him, pressing his face into Rich-gege’s white robes. “Don’t leave me, don’t leave me, don’t leave me,” he chanted. 

Rich-gege tightened his arms around him. “Shhh, don’t worry,” he whispered. “I won’t leave you.” 

Then the last of the matches burned out with a hiss. 

A-Yuan hiccupped a few times, then forced himself to pull away. He looked at the charred snow, and he knew his magic had run out. The last of Wei-gege’s matches were gone. 

But he still felt warm. Like, the cold couldn’t touch him anymore. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

“A-Yuan, you can’t stay here anymore,” Rich-gege whispered to him. But A-Yuan already knew that. “I’m to bring you to your family. They’re all waiting for you.” A-Yuan perked up. He hasn’t seen them in so long. Maybe this won’t be as bad as they make it sound. 

“Are you ready?” Rich-gege motioned up into the sky, towards the stars. 

A-Yuan took one last look around at the village, and he whispered a quiet goodbye to the world he had known. Then, turning back to Rich-gege, he nodded. “I’m ready.” He was proud that his voice didn’t shake at all. Rich-gege nodded back and carefully gathered him up in his arms. Stepping onto his sword, he flew them both into the sky. 

As they soared among the stars, A-Yuan looked around and wondered which one he would replace. He hoped his spot was right next to his family.

Don’t worry, this is a happy ending! LWJ really was there and saved A-Yuan and is taking him home. And he’ll let him have a Christmas tree all the time now if he wants. 

A-Yuan is a smart cookie, but he’s not familiar with magic, so he drew some dark and inaccurate conclusions at the end. Well, they were wrong conclusions in this story, if not canon. Originally, I wanted the story to follow canon events, but then LWJ told A-Yuan he was bringing him home to WWX. And I said, wait, no, you can’t do that, because he’s dead. And LWJ said no, actually, I’m going to save everybody and you can’t do anything about it. 

Aaaaand I can’t do anything about it. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

So, WWX is recovering from whatever was killing him last week and all of the Wen remnants (including WQ and WN) are saved, and they really are waiting for LWJ to bring the living A-Yuan home to them. 

[tiny-maus-boots]

Queen of Hearts - pt 8

A/N: thank you to everyone still reading. thank you so much to my bestie for do the thing always @chloes-yellow-cup 

08. Bad Beat

“Cassidy will you grab the rest of the breads and take them into the pantry? Thanks.”

Stacie hefted a study cardboard box full of frozen chicken cutlets and hamburger patties. She placed it on top of a stack of boxes similarly filled on the waiting dolly before the tall brunette glanced at her clipboard to confirm the last of the supplies had been accounted for. She tossed the plastic board on top of the box and tipped back the over laden hand truck to get it rolling.  She navigated through the heavy steel back door and down the hall to the storeroom, content in the work she was doing.

It wasn’t by any means heroic or anything. It was just the daily business of running the shelter, errands, chores, stocking the pantry…the usual. But it made her feel good to have such a hands-on approach to her community work. The shelter hadn’t just been a home for women that had to leave dangerous situations. It had been her own safe haven from the world her husband and parents lived in. Despite the fact that work was hard, the hours long, and the circumstances almost always heartbreaking, this place brought her peace.

Voices down the hall rose and she frowned slightly, easing the dolly down before following the commotion to its source. It wasn’t normal to hear people arguing, the shelter was a sanctuary and shouting just didn’t happen that often. A familiar strident tone threaded through the sound and her eyes narrowed. She could tell it was a man, of course by the deepness of the voice but she didn’t know him personally. She didn’t really have to. It was a husband or boyfriend or even sometimes a pimp. She knew it by the entitled bluster that loudly demanded entry.

There was a time when just the tone of that kind of aggression from any man, made her tremble in reflexive anxiety. Although those days were gone, they weren’t that far past and she could feel that sliver of fear want to take over. The ugly reminder of it made her push forward with anger of her own that quickly drowned out the scared echo in the back of her mind.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. You’re trespa-“

“I KNOW she’s in there! You bring me my wife and my boy or I swear I’ll call the cops.”

Emotion slid off her face as she opened the inner door to the reception area and let it click closed behind her. Cassidy turned and gave her a relieved look that she smiled understandingly at. It wasn’t the girl’s fault and she knew that. A thick meaty fist banged on the thick plexi glass wall that separated them making her young friend jump.

“Why don’t you go grab a coffee and a quick snack, I’ve got this.”

“Are you sure? Should I call…someone?”

Cassidy had lowered her voice to barely a whisper but Stacie gave her credit for trying to back her up even though she was clearly uncomfortable. Though she was sure the someone Cassidy was referring to was Aubrey. She gave the girl a slight shake of her head squeezed her shoulder gently.

“It’s okay Cass, go on.”

Cassidy didn’t question it further, she just escaped out the door without a backward glance. Stacie didn’t blame her one bit. She took a calming breath before turning and offering a bland, mechanical smile to the man pacing with agitation in front of her window. He was big in that he was heavy but not that tall. Certainly not taller than her. And she could tell by the way he stretched his spine and neck that he didn’t like it one bit.

“How can I help you, sir?”

“And who the hell are you supposed to be? I want to talk to someone in charge not some fucking desk bunny.”

Usually Stacie didn’t mind when people thought of her as hot and dumb. She’d played to it often enough when it suited her needs. This time, however, it irritated her rather than just mildly amusing her. The glass front doors opened behind him as someone came in, the bright sunlight slicing through what she was realizing now was kind of a dim and dreary interior. She made a mental note to have some improvements overall and offered him a smile. First things first.

“If you’re looking for someone in charge you found her. Is there something wrong?”

“Lady you got some fucking balls. Is there something wrong? I’ve only been screaming about it for twenty fucking minutes!” His fist came up again to bang on the plexi in exclamation of his point. “I know my wife and son are in there and you better go get them now. Olivia! OLIVIA, I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE YOU BITCH!”

Movement behind him drew her eye and she saw Happy peek around the side of the man, her brow raised in silent question. Did Stacie want her to deal with him? The corner of her lips twitched and she had to fight to keep her face from betraying her thoughts. A shake of her head was enough for Happy to ease back silently to let her handle things. It was still nice knowing there was backup at hand just in case. She wasn’t even surprised to see the woman. Life with Aubrey had come with the perk of personal security.

“Okay that’s about enough of that. I don’t know who your wife is or why you think she’s here but I suggest you lower your voice and you leave.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, bitch! I’m not leaving here without them. If you don’t bring them out, I swear I’ll call-“

“The cops? Sure. Let’s do that.” Stacie picked up the phone and started to dial the non-emergency phone line for the West L.A. Police Department. He banged on the glass again but she didn’t flinch, she had expected it the second she’d called his bluff. The line clicked open with a dispatcher as he stared at her furiously. He wanted to hurt her; she could tell. She’d faced that same black look a thousand times before but she wasn’t afraid of it. Not because Happy stood a few feet behind him, or the fact that there were two inches of impact glass between them. Something had shifted in her when Weston had died. Something profound that she hadn’t yet come to understand but was learning to appreciate. “Hi yes this is Stacie Conrad down at New Hope on Sepulveda…”

“Fuck you! Stupid bitch.”

He turned on a heel, practically pushing Happy and the slender woman in line behind her out of the way. Stacie let out a breath she didn’t realize that she was holding and thanked the dispatch operator before hanging up. He could be as mad as he wanted to be, as long as it was somewhere else. She shook her head and smiled at Happy who bounced a little with her thumbs up. The encouragement was appreciated, especially when the curly blonde-haired woman shifted slightly to the side and Stacie really took in the woman behind her observing everything with a keen and critical eye.

“Mother.”

It was unexpected, taking the wind out of her sails and she wondered how her mother had even found the place. She certainly had never been inclined to visit before. Helene waited a moment, carefully smoothing the skirt of her latest Dior suit set to buy her some time before speaking. Happy glanced back and forth between the two of them giving Stacie a questioning look before easing back out the front door to give them some privacy. Her mother offered a blank smile and took one step forward as if she were a bit afraid that poverty was contagious.

“Well, things are certainly livelier south of the country club, aren’t they?”

It was just this side of bitchy, her mother unable to keep herself from reminding Stacie that she was bred above this place and these people. Of course, Helene would never consider it a slight, just a gentle reminder. In a way, she supposed, her mother was attempting to meet her in the middle. A soft, tired smile tugged at her lips and she gestured for the older woman to wait.

She wasn’t stupid. She knew her mother was there because Aubrey had visited her parents. Not that her fiancée had said anything about it, but she didn’t have to. Stacie had known something had happened the second she’d gotten a text from Aubrey letting her know that they were having a family dinner. It wasn’t uncommon really, she had learned that when Aubrey wanted to show love she cooked, and she cooked a lot. But the timing was so random and spontaneous, so weighted by whatever knowledge Aubrey had learned that afternoon.

Stacie had suspected that it had to do with her parents when Aubrey had caught her in the kitchen and pulled her into a hug, strong arms wrapping around her protectively. It was the type of love she hadn’t known really existed before. So, she hadn’t questioned it, hadn’t thought harder on it because it didn’t really matter what her life was like before the blonde or what Aubrey had found out. All that mattered was how deeply loved she felt now.

Her footsteps brought her through the office and around to the heavy steel door that separated her from the lobby. Stacie took a breath to center herself but pushed back against the urge to close herself off and wall up her emotions so she could present a camera-ready visage at any moment. She rested her palm flat on the door and pushed it open wide enough to admit her mother to the back.

“I wasn’t sure you knew the map extended past the country club, mother.”

They could trade politely smiled barbs at each other all day but she was getting really tired of that song and dance. Maybe they both were. They eyed each other for a long second before she jerked her head in invitation. Helene seemed to think it good enough and stepped past the threshold to the rest of the shelter. Stacie let the door shut and gave it push to be sure it was locked shut before gesturing for her mother to walk with her.

“I’m surprised to see you, mom. Is everything okay?”

“Everything is fine. I just…to be quite honest Anastacia, I don’t know. I just.” She stopped short unable to articulate what had brought her. “I found myself needing to see…”

The tall brunette dipped her head in a nod of acknowledgement, absolving her mother of further explanation. Stacie stopped at the pantry and waved a hand to gesture Helene into the room. She picked up her clipboard and hung it on the hook on the wall before starting to dig through the boxes still patiently stacked on the dolly awaiting attention. Her mother watched it all with curiosity bubbling behind her hazel green eyes. She was sure she knew what her mother was trying to say, or at least she  hoped she did.

“Just give me a second to get this sorted out, maybe we could…have lunch?”

It was tentatively asked because it wouldn’t be the first time her lunch invitation had been declined. She almost expected to hear that there weren’t any decent places to eat in that part of town or some other snobby slight. Stacie was so sure her mother would decline that she looked away from the older woman and started stacking the frozen items in the big commercial freezer the shelter had just purchased at a significant discount from one of Aubrey’s suppliers.

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

A box of cube steaks slipped between her fingers and clattered to the ground. She blinked and looked back at her mother before grabbing the box and stacking it neatly in the freezer. Okay. It was unexpected but it was a start. Maybe.

“Great. Let me just finish putting these away and we can go.”

Helene shifted her weight and Stacie could feel the tension under the surface. She raised a brow in question and her mother gestured to the boxes with a graceful wave of her hand.

“Don’t you have people to do the grunt work?”

Stacie chuckled softly as she finished emptying one box and started on another with canned goods. She moved around the pantry, stocking the shelves, and taking note of what was needed still. Her mother hadn’t meant an insult by it, she was a woman used to giving orders and expecting them to be followed. It was the type of life that led to soft hands and hard hearts and it was exactly what Stacie never wanted to be.

“Well. The shelter budget only includes 3 full time employees, so we maintain the ship on the kindness of volunteers and we all lend a hand where we can.”

“Three??? That is insanity. You can’t run a business on three solid employees!” She smiled in mild amusement and shook her head. Her mother’s outrage and disbelief seemed so out of place when she’d been running the place on less for almost a decade. Stacie emptied the last box and pulled a bag of fresh grapes from the fridge to wash off in the large stainless sink along one wall. “That’s not a sustainable model.”

“Well, most of our funding covers the overhead of the building. Insurance of course, and the electricity bill here is ridiculous. But…we’ve been managing. Like I said, we have a lot of volunteers staffed and I’m grateful for each and every one of them.”

She dried the grapes, depositing them in a bowl and grabbed her clipboard before gesturing for Helene to follow her. They had only made it about 4 steps down the hall when Cass called out from her spot back at the front desk.

“Stace, the plumber emailed over the quote. It’s on your desk and you’re not gonna like it!”

“Thanks, Cass! I’ll call them back today!”

Shouting down the hall would been frowned upon at home when she was growing but she didn’t have the time to walk to the front just for that bit of info. Stacie pushed open the double doors to room they had recently designated as the playroom. It was large and brightly painted with books and games stacked neatly on shelves along the walls and thick spongey mats on the floor. Nearly a dozen kids made a beeline straight for her making her laugh in delight.

“Okay okay, easy guys. More than enough grapes for everyone. Hey Tanner.” A teenaged boy pushed off from the wall and waded through the kids to grab a some of the sweet fruit. She smiled at him and he blushed, glancing away nervously. It was adorable. Stacie turned back to her mother and gestured to the teen at her side as she handed him the bowl of grapes. “Tanner is one of our superstars, he helps out in the afternoons with the kids while the AA meeting convenes in the multipurpose room. We’re pretty self sufficient here, we look after our own.”

“We’re a family. Like a real one.”

Both women turned to look at the shy young man that looked like he wished he’d never spoken. Stacie winked at him and patted his shoulder as she stepped back toward the door. Tanner and his mother Linda had been some of the first families to stay at New Hope and she was glad to see them doing well.

“Do all the guests do work here?”

“It’s not required but some do, yes. Tanner doesn’t live here anymore but he and his mom make it a point to help out as often as they can.”

“Yo! Stacie, we need you to review that grant proposal before we submit it. The deadline is tonight, it’s on your desk!”

Stacie and her mom parted as a small determined body buzzed down the hall. Her mother looked a little flustered at the abruptness of the comment even as the speaker disappeared back up the hall and into a small office.

“Don’t mind Elena. She’s ‘eh’ on people skills but she’s a whiz at writing grants.”

They had finally made it to the smallest office at the back of the building. It was windowless and dark but she’d worked hard to make it cozy and comfortable. Her wide worktable took up most of one side and she settled behind it with a gesture to the seat across from her.

“I hadn’t realized how busy you were here…”

There was something in her tone that made Stacie look up from her computer screen with a frown. It was thoughtful and quiet, more like Helene was speaking to herself rather than to her daughter. The silence between them stretched, neither party sure what to say or how to close the gap that had been growing since as far back as Stacie could remember. Despite the fact that they were family, mother and daughter, they were really just two strangers to each other.

She opened her mouth to say anything to break the odd tableau when a casual knock on the door drew their attention and saved her from an inarticulate flounder. The tiny woman leaned against the frame with a grin and a plastic container full of food she could smell from there. Her stomach gave a growl of anticipation and Stacie beamed. Happy’s girlfriend laughed at the entirely scandalized look on her mother’s face and stepped into the office.

“Hey…I didn’t mean to interrupt…”

“Not at all, come in. Flo this is my mom Helene Conrad, mother this is Florencia Fuentes. She has a local catering business in town and donates a lot of prepared food to us. She’s a saint. Wha’cha got in the box?”

“Nice to meet you Mrs. Conrad.” The small woman offered Helene a smile and placed the container in front of Stacie. “I was just dropping off something for tonight. And Happy told me you skipped lunch again. So, I brought your favorite to tempt you into eating.”

Stacie’s eyes went right to the container, her mouth watering already. Over the last six months she and Florencia had gotten close, bonding over the amazing food the caterer had been donating almost weekly. And in that time she’d grown more than a little fond of Cuban cuisine.

“Tempt me? You couldn’t convince me to eat anything else.” Well. Almost anything else. Stacie kept her face perfectly schooled as the errant thought ran through her head. She reminded herself that her mother was marginally fine with sitting in a cramped closet of an office in a less than great part of town, scandalizing her now wouldn’t do their relationship any favors. The thought of her mother just sitting there staring at her salivating over the as yet unopened container brought Stacie back to herself. “Oh…mom…I promised lunch…”

“That’s quite alright, Anastacia. It would be a shame to let such a thoughtful gesture go to waste. It smells delicious.”

Flo beamed at the praise, and she should have. Helene didn’t give outright compliments unless she felt they were deserved. Stacie glanced at her mother, her mind quickly processing every twitch of muscle and softly sighed breath. Her mom’s eyes dipped to the container the curiosity and hunger obvious only to Stacie who knew her mother better than anyone else on the planet. Flo gestured to the hallway just outside the open door and tipped her head to the side as she watched the delicate dance between Stacie and her mother.

“I can get plates and silverware from the kitchen for you guys…”

Stacie nodded even though her mother was wavering on the edge of accepting the offer. She was sure that she would have declined with a sneer if her friends had been around. The younger Conrad woman lifted the lid to let the aroma waft up and out. Her mother’s eyes closed briefly as she inhaled the exotic combination of savory and sweet scents.

“Oh, my goodness…”

“Mouthwatering isn’t it?”

Helene nodded dazedly, not even noticing Flo come back with dishes. Her friend gave her a grin as she handed the plates and forks over and Stacie mouthed a thank you before starting to divvy up the rice and beans and seasoned meat.

“I’d better go, I have pastor’s 85th birthday event to cater in South Gate. Buen provecho and it was really nice to meet you Mrs. Conrad.”

“You too, dear. Thank you for the food if it tastes as delicious as it smells I’ll be in heaven.”

Stacie got up and gave Flo a tight hug before she could leave. Most of her adult life she’d only ever had one true friend in Cynthia Rose. But now things were different and she counted herself lucky to have found other amazing women that she could trust and that understood the life she had. It was helping she find who the real Stacie Conrad was under the carefully held up façade she was forced to build for herself.

“Thank you and hey, you, me, Ashley and the Doc for a girl’s day, yeah?”

“Count me in. Besos.”

“Bye.” Stacie watched Flo leave before settling back into her chair. She had been aware of her mother watching her carefully as she said her goodbyes. It was probably the first time that Helene had ever seen a real friendship up close in her life. “Sorry, okay. We’ve got a little of everything here.”

“Sizeable portions, nice presentation, it doesn’t even have to be good and she could make a decent living with a small café style store front in the art district.”

“Give it a try.” Stacie grinned and slid a plate across the desk to her mother. Helene gave her a dubious look and speared some of the steak on the end of her fork. The older woman gave an exasperated sigh before popping it in her mouth. She knew the moment Helene actually tasted the food she’d be hooked and she wasn’t surprised by the approving hum from the older woman. “It’s good right?”

“This is amazing. Oh, she could make a killing. What is this dish? I simply must know.”

“It’s called ropa vieja.” She waited a beat for her mom to take another, bigger bite of the food before continuing. “It literally means old clothes.”

Helene stopped chewing and looked at her fork then Stacie. The look on her face was too much for her and Stacie tipped her head back in a laugh.

“Oh God, your face. It’s fine, it’s just flank steak in a tomato sauce with white rice and black beans. And those are maduros. Um. Fried plantains.”

The other woman looked at the plate as her daughter pointed out all the components of the meal. She looked up and smiled in soft amusement at Stacie and for the life of her she couldn’t remember when that had happened before. Stacie’s own lips curled in a smile to match and for the first time felt like maybe there really was common ground between them. Maybe they just had to try a little harder to reach out to each other.

“This is…this is really nice, Stacie. I’m glad I came.”

She opened her mouth to comment that it was the first time her mother had used her nickname but her phone gave a petulant sounding buzz from somewhere under the stack of papers on her desk. She shifted the plate and files over until she found it and answered with a brief smile of apology for her mom.

“This is Stacie Conrad.”

“Hey mom.”

The voice was unmistakably Detective Mitchell but the greeting was strange. Stacie frowned slightly and looked at the clock on the wall. It was late afternoon and she was reasonably certain that the cop hadn’t yet started drinking but Beca was unpredictable and could be three sheets to the wind already. She lowered her voice and sat back in her chair, a knot already twisting her gut as she pondered all the reasons that Beca would be trying to reach her.

“Should I be worried you’re calling me?”

“Yeah, I know, I don’t call enough. I figure no news is good news, right?”

“Does that mean you have news and it’s not good?”

“Listen, how’s Daddy doing? Last time I saw him he had his hands tied.”

Stacie froze. A part of her was amused that Beca was referring to Aubrey as Daddy but that was quickly swallowed by the sick feeling of realization that Detective Mitchell was trying to tell her that Aubrey had been arrested. At least that was what she assumed based on what was said.

“Jesus Christ. They arrested her, didn’t they?”

“You’re always right, Mom. Listen I just wanted to check in. I got a big fish on the hook and I have to check some things out. I’ll see you and Daddy later, okay?”

“You know she’s going to murder you if you call her Daddy to her face, right?”

The line clicked abruptly on Beca’s amused and utterly unconcerned laughter. Stacie looked at her phone then dragged her eyes up to meet her mother’s bright-eyed stare. Disapproval etched a deep furrow in her brow and the very thin, shaky ground between them crumbled away with each word she spoke.

“I have to go downtown.”

[lizzy-frizzle]

Here’s the second piece! It stars one Deidre Hunt from @smallest-turtle

Lizzy was walking around the ishgard markets, looking for anything interesting.

[Hmmm. No, no, that’s gaudy, no, ew do people wear that?]

She sighed, exasperated, “Nothing. Nothing is good enough to get for Sadu. Maybe I should just make something?”

There was a light commotion as the most horrendous shroud accent tears through the scuffle, “I didn’ do anythin’!”

Lizzy, having spent most of her youth in the shroud, recognized it immediately, but to ishgardian ears it must’ve been gibberish.

Lizzy steps toward the noise, and pushes her way through the crowd, the source of the commotion was a young hyur woman was grabbed by the arm of an ishgardian market guard.

“Um, hello, is there a problem?” Lizzy asked the guard.

The guard takes a step back, “I, uh, oh Lizzy. I caught this one stealing from the stall.”

Lizzy looks at the woman, then back at the guard, the guard was easily twice the height of her, “Mhm. Well, I can take it from here.”

Lizzy stares the guard down, knowing the guard doesn’t want to just let this go.

He takes a moment, and begrudgingly throws the arm down, “Fine.”

Lizzy takes a breath, “You know, I’m just saving you.”

The guard looks confused, but waves it off, and walks on.

The woman turns to Lizzy, “I had it und’r control!”

“Well, I don’t think a person with the echo should be composing themselves like that.” Lizzy measures the woman with her eyes, “Wait, how old are you?”

“18, why?”

[This is a child.]

“What’s your name?” Lizzy asks, as gently as possible.

“Deidre.” she starts analyzing Lizzy, “Who’r you?”

Lizzy shudders, [This child speaks like my grandmother.]

“My name is Elizabeth Frizzle, but you can call me Lizzy, everyone does.” Lizzy stops for a second, “Wait, Deidre, that name...Aren’t you the one the scions have been getting to curb the primal threats recently?”

Lizzy knew that there had been others, and honestly was happy to let them take over while she focused on her more romantic endeavors.

“Ye, ‘ave you any idea ‘ow frustrat’n it is?”

Lizzy parses the information on her ears, “Uh, yea, the scions had me take down a couple primals, then I was pulled away by some issues elsewhere, then more issues, and I suppose you took up my responsibility.”

[If I had known they would make a child…]

Lizzy continues, “Hey, would you wanna come with me while I shop around?”

Deidre was about to turn and run.

“Hey, I’m not going to force you to fight anything, I just want some company while I shop, my chocobo isn’t allowed in the city, so I don’t ge-”

“-Chocobo?” Deidre perked up.

“Oh? Yea, her name is Valerie. I’ve raised her forever, I don’t leave home without her.” Lizzy looks at Deidre, “Would you like to meet her?”

The hyur nodded, and started following Lizzy.

Lizzy begins to talk as they walk through the market, “I’m looking for a present for my girlfriend.” she stops to check out some jewelry in a stall, “Normally these kind of markets can have hidden gems, but I haven’t found anything today.” she holds the focus of her necklace out to show Deidre, “Sadu got me this necklace, and even got it engraved, and I can’t find anything nearly half as meaningful for her.”

“Wha’ kind’o girl i’she?” Deidre asks.

“She loves to fight, she challenged me to...7? Or 8, fights before she accepted my date proposal.”

Deidre nods knowingly, “Why’nt get’er a new weap’n?

Lizzy stops, shocked, “Why didn’t I think of that...”

[Sadu has always used that staff though, I don’t know if she’d like a new one. Maybe the gesture is enough though?]

“Ok, let’s go somewhere else then, you can teleport yea?” Lizzy looks at the scars on Deidre’s arms.

“Ye!”

“Alright, let’s go to Gridania then. They make the best staffs.”

With that they were whisked away.

~New Gridania~

“So, I think a staff with this one tree...” Lizzy trails off, half-talking to Deidre, half-thinking of what she needs.

“Do y’always talk t’ yourself?”

“Well,” Lizzy starts to defend herself, but alas, “I guess I’m so used to traveling alone I do...huh.” Lizzy thinks about it for a moment, “Well, anyway, I got the wood I needed.”

With a flash, Lizzy starts carving the wood into a staff right there. The movements being rapid, but carefully calculated, the form of a beautiful staff forming. A thin pole, with the focus point having wings and twin serpents coiling up to a slot where a gem should go.

“Now I just need to get a special type of diamond.” Lizzy stops, “Hey, I’m gonna go fight a god real quick, can you stay here for a moment?”

“Uh, sure?” Deidre sat down on a log.

“Alright,” Lizzy disappears.

Deidre notices the dark blue chocobo standing there, waiting for her owner to return. She beckons her over, and the chocobo gently sits down and rests her head across Deidre’s lap.

10 minutes later, Lizzy re-appears. Now she’s holding a pristine looking diamond.

“Wonderful.” Lizzy takes out the rod and inserts the gem.

“Who’d y’fight?” Deidre asks.

“Kefka, that stupid clown always uses diamonds in some of his attacks, so fighting him allows me to get them for weapons.” Lizzy stops, feeling nearly insane, “They’re really good weapons.”

“Ah, can I meet y’girlfriend?”

“Uh, sure, I don’t see why not. Have you been to the Azim Steppe?”

~Dotharl Khaa~

As soon as Lizzy spots a specific Au Ra, she leaps into her arms.

“SADU!”

The smiles on both their faces is near infectious, and Deidre can’t help but smile at the sight.

Sadu let’s Lizzy down, “I wasn’t expecting you to visit today!”

“Well! I made you something!” Lizzy notices the standalone hyur among everyone, “OH! This is my new friend, Deidre. She’s from the Shroud too.”

Sadu looks at her, “Are you strong?”

Lizzy begins to scold her, “Sadu, she’s a child.”

“And children can’t fight? She looks like she can topple some beasts.”

Deidre confidently says, “I bet ah’ve kill’d more than y’have!”

Sadu nearly steps back, “What.”

Lizzy translates, “She thinks she’s killed more creatures than you.”

Sadu nods, “See? That means I should challenge her.”

Lizzy gets a worried expression, “Can I at least give you your present first? I think you’ll love it.”

“You got me something?” her eyes flicker with excitement.

“Yea! Actually, I made it.” Lizzy takes out the diamond infused black mage staff, “Here!”

Sadu takes it, and examines it. Carefully tracing the notches and patterns in it. After a moment, she casts a spell on a nearby shrug, igniting it instantly.

“Ooooo, I like this! The magic flows so easily, and so potently!”

Sadu hugs Lizzy again, this time punctuating it with a kiss.

She let’s go of Lizzy, “Thank you so much!”

Lizzy seems lost in a daze, cheeks flushed.

Sadu turns her attention back to Deidre, “Ok, so about that fight then?”

[inu-jiru]

Tomoe, The Eastern Tigress - Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven - Hougen’s Cruelty

The blizzard raged on that night. Inside the shed, Gin, John, and Akame had finished their meal and were fast asleep. Akame’s ear would flick occasionally; ninja dogs were light sleepers, their ears trained to pick up sounds of danger even while sleeping. Before it’d reached midnight, the Kishu’s ears picked up the faintest sound of paws walking through the snow. Akame was awake almost instantly.

“Gin,” he barked. “John.”

“Mmmph...” John grunted as he stirred. He flashed the Kishu an annoyed glare. “What the fuck, Akame...?”

“Something’s not right,” Akame explained. Padding towards the windows of the shed, he glanced out. As he feared, the small structure was surrounded by a small army of dogs. “We’re surrounded...!” 

Gin and John immediately felt more awake at that news. They stood up, joining Akame at the window. It was just as he said. Neither of them could even count just how many dogs were standing there, partially obscured by the snow. Two dogs approached the shed, a Borzoi, like Reika had described, and what had to be the largest Great Dane they’d ever seen. 

“They’re in there, sir!” the Borzoi was saying. “They’ve got nowhere to run to!”

“That big guy...” John muttered, his fur bristling. “It’s obvious he’s the leader, but something about him rubs me the wrong way. He’s not like that Nero guy...”

“It could be Hougen,” Gin suggested. “I didn’t think he’d find us so quickly...”

“Heh...” John licked his chops. “Then we’ll just have to take him out right here and now. I’ll crush him easily.”

“It won’t be that simple, John,” said Akame, though John was already padding up to a hole in the roof of the shed and jumping out. “John!”

John ignored Akame’s warning as he stepped onto the snow-covered roof. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins as the Dane’s eyes locked onto him. The Shepherd showed no fear; his body was already lowered into an offensive position.

“Yo,” the Dane yelled as he came to a stop. “I hear you three are the top dogs of Ohu. Is that true?”

“Who’s askin’?” John shot back.

“I am,” the Dane replied boldly. “Now answer the question: are you three Ohu’s top dogs?”

“Tell me who you are first, and maybe I’ll consider answering.” The air grew tense as the two males challenged each other, neither showing signs of backing down. Gin and Akame joined their friend on the roof.

“What do you want from us?” Gin asked with a firm voice. The Dane’s eyes wandered over to the Akita, his jowls stretching back into a smile.

“Aha...” he cooed. “That tora-ge fur...those scars...you’re definitely Gin.”

“And you’re Hougen, I presume?” Gin refused to show any signs of fear. If this was Hougen, as he assumed, then Gin knew that any display of weakness would be preyed upon. That’s the sort of male Hougen was, according to what the trio had learned in the past six months. The Dane chuckled at Gin’s confidence, before slowly turning and squatting over the snow. John’s eyes widened.

“What the...?” he said in alarm. The Great Dane’s followers gasped as they watched their leader force out a lump of fecal matter. With one final grunt, it fell out onto the snow. The Dane sneered up at the three leaders.

“I’ll tell you what,” he barked slyly. “How’s about a deal? That mouthy Shepherd eats my shit, and maybe I’ll tell you if I’m Hougen or not.”

“You disgusting piece of shit!” Rage filled John’s body. “Someone as filthy as you can only be Hougen! I don’t need to eat shit to prove that!”

“How childish...” Akame grunted, also disgusted by Hougen’s lack of decency. “But John...don’t buy into his games. He’s only trying to embarrass us.”

“I know that...!” The Shepherd snapped. “Grrr...! What do we do then!?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Hougen interrupted. “Surrender and make things easy for me. It’s inevitable that I’ll take over Ohu, so why not give in while you can? Gehehe...” As the male spoke, Gin whispered to his companions.

“We need to make a run for it,” he said. “If a dog gets in your way, take them down, but we need to focus on leaving.”

“I’m not a fan of running away...” John grunted. 

“I know,” replied Gin. “But we need the rest of the army to know what’s coming. If we die here, who’ll warn our families about Hougen?”

John didn’t respond, but Gin already knew the answer. He looked at Akame, and the Kishu nodded to him. The plan was set. Together, the three dogs leapt from the roof and onto the ground below. Hougen perked.

“Oho? So you’ve decided to welcome death after all? Well, in that case...” Hougen lifted his head, shouting aloud. “All of you! Rip ‘em apart!”

A fierce battle cry filled the air as Hougen’s army advanced on the three males. As Gin commanded, John and Akame didn’t focus on trying to take anyone out if they could avoid it. They slipped under pouncing dogs and kicked away any fool that got too close. Some of Hougen’s males would try to attack all at once, latching onto the fleeing dogs in an attempt to slow them down.

“Hrah!” Gin jumped into the air as dogs clung to his body. He landed on his back, crushing them beneath his weight.

“Gyaaaaaah!” A dog cried out as John slashed his throat. Akame, meanwhile, stepped on the heads of several dogs like stepping stones. Out of the corner of his eye, he searched to see of Hougen was anywhere nearby. Oddly enough, the Dane was nowhere to be found.

“Akame!”

The ganin turned his attention over to Gin. The Akita stood nearby, panting as he struggled against a swarm of attacks. Looking over at him, Gin ordered:

“Use your shinobi techniques! Escape while you can and head to Ohu!”

“Uh...?” Akame gasped. “Are you sure, Gin?”

“Yes...!” Gin brought down a paw on an enemy’s head, knocking him unconscious. “One of us needs to warn Ohu! John and I’ll keep distracting them. You go!”

“Yeah, Akame!” agreed John from afar as he knocked away a few soldiers from his body. “We’ve got this!”

Akame grunted in dismay. Though it was a reasonable plan, it just didn’t sit right with the male to leave behind the comrades he’d respected and saw as his family. Still...Gin was his leader, first and foremost; Akame couldn’t refuse his command. Closing his eyes and gritting his teeth, Akame forced himself onward. 

“Gin...! John...!” Akame performed a great leap over the last of the dogs, making his way to the nearest gathering of trees and climbing his way up. He felt a tear stream down his face. “Please...don’t die!”

“That’s enough, you bastards!” 

The battle came to a sudden halt as Hougen spoke. John and Gin paused, bracing themselves as Hougen reappeared in front of them. Rocket’s brother, Missile, was hanging onto a squirming dog. Gin’s maw fell open in shock.

“Reika!”

Both Ohu males stared in dismay as the unfortunate female was brought before them, whimpering and sobbing as Missile’s fangs threatened to tear into the side of her neck. Hougen looked at her, smirking, before returning his gaze to Gin and John.

“I don’t have any mercy, so...” Hougen paused to chuckle sadistically. “Keep resisting if you want. Just know that this cutie dies if you do.”

“Boss...!” Reika cried. “I’m so sorry! They ambushed me! Please...don’t stop fighting on my account...!”

“How low can you get, you bastard!?” a furious John roared.

“Shut up!” Hougen snapped. “As long as I win, it doesn’t matter what tricks I have to use, gyahahaha!” As Hougen laughed, his followers began biting Reika’s legs and belly. She screamed in pain. Gin shook his head, his ears flattening against his head.

“Stop...!” he begged. “Just stop! Let her go, Hougen!” The Dane flashed a toothy grin at Gin. Finally, everything was falling into place. Raising his head again, he howled to his soldiers:

“This is it, boys! Take them down!”

Gin and John watched, bracing themselves, as Hougen’s males grew closer and closer...

Two days had passed since Kaibutsu’s death. As Jerome had said, the humans returned to Futago Pass once more to retrieve the monster’s body. The Ohu soldiers had gathered at the near the base of the waterfall, watching as Kaibutsu’s body was airlifted away, never to be seen again. Jerome made sure to stay out of sight, still feeling great shame over how he’d failed to die alongside his comrades. If his masters believed him to be dead, then so be it.

Once the humans were gone and peace settled over the Pass, the remaining members of Ohu attempted to continue living as they did before. As of now, there were only 29 dogs. The Dog Paradise, once lively and filled with dogs, was eerily quiet. Dogs who’d died and not been laid to rest were given burials; a lengthy task, but no one complained. Inside Gajou, a large chamber had been created due to the cave-in, one big enough for everyone to gather inside and sleep during the night. 

The evening of the second day came quickly. Tomoe sat in front of Gajou, looking up at the darkening sky with a look of content on her face. It’d been so long since she could properly gaze at the stars. 

“Hello there, youngster,” a voice called to her. Looking over her shoulder, Tomoe saw Ben padding up to her. She smiled.

“Oh hey, Uncle Ben,” Tomoe chirped. “I thought you’d gone to sleep already.”

“Not yet.” The large male took a seat. “Had something on my mind.”

“Mmm?”

“Gin, John and Akame have been gone all this time...” Ben’s blind eyes looked towards the sky. “And no one can be sure when they’re coming back exactly. We don’t have the substitutes anymore, so we need someone to fill in.”

“I thought you were already doing that, Uncle,” Tomoe said, cocking a brow.

“You could say that,” replied Ben. “But, really, I only took up the job because I used to be Ohu’s General back when Riki was alive. I plan on going back into retirement now that things have calmed down. And who better to take my place than John’s own daughter?”

“Eh...!?” Tomoe stood up, staring, wide-eyed, at the old male. “You want me to lead Ohu!?”

“Hoho...calm down, youngster. You won’t be leading by yourself. Your father’s the new General these days, so you’ll be filling in for him. Meanwhile, Gin’s role will be filled by Weed.” Ben then glanced back, making a beckoning motion with his head. “Come on out, you two.”

As if on cue, Weed and Jerome appeared from the entrance of Gajou. Tomoe stared at them intensely, her eyes narrowing.

Oh, great... she thought sarcastically. The pipsqueak and his new lap dog... In all honesty, Tomoe wasn’t exactly sure why Weed rubbed her the wrong way. Jerome was a different story; his cold demeanor and odd obsession with Weed was obnoxious to her. The puppy, however, hadn’t really done anything to her, aside from getting singled out because he was Gin’s son. Perhaps that was the main reason. A petty one, maybe, but a reason nonetheless. Tomoe kept those negative thoughts to herself as the Akita mix and the Shepherd joined the conversation.

“Mr. Ben talked it over with us already,” Weed said. “He thinks I should fill in as Boss until my father returns to Ohu.”

“I’ve offered to act as his advisor,” Jerome added. “It’s the least I can do. Weed offered me a new purpose, and this one seemed the most appropriate.” It took all of Tomoe’s willpower not to roll her eyes. “Consider me as your number three until that Akame fellow returns.”

“I know both you and Weed are young,” Ben said to Tomoe. “But long ago, Gin proved to me that even a child could do great things. If you feel any doubts, you just need to talk to us. You won’t have to be alone, Tomoe.”

“Mmph...” the young bitch murmured as she thought it over. “Just until Dad comes back, huh...? Well...alright. I’ll do it, Uncle.”

“I’m glad,” said Ben with a calm smile. He stood up, yawning. “Alright. I’ll go and settle down for now. You youngsters don’t stay up too late, hmm?” 

Ben slowly made his way back into Gajou, his nose and ears guiding him. Weed, Tomoe, and Jerome were left alone, all of them silent. The mountain winds blew about, ruffling their coats. After a moment of silence between the three of them, Weed decided to speak. 

“I don’t think we’ve officially met,” he said with a grin. “I’m Weed.”

“So I’ve heard,” replied Tomoe coolly. Jerome watched her closely, listening to the tones in her voice and examining the emotions in her eyes. “The name’s Tomoe.”

“I’m sure we’ll make a great team,” Weed said, his tail swishing. 

“If you say so.” The female lazily ran a tongue over her paw.

“Hmm? What’s the matter? Don’t you think so?”

Tomoe didn’t respond at first. Glancing at Jerome, she could see the clear distaste in his eyes. She snorted. She wouldn’t apologize for not falling head over heels for a puppy she barely knew.

“I never said I didn’t,” she finally said. “I’m just not sure if you’re actually ready for this, kid.”

“He’s ready,” Jerome cut in. His voice seemed almost defensive. Tomoe scrunched her muzzle. “Don’t worry about him. Like I said before, I’ll be his advisor. The Veterans have given their approval already. Of course, if you also need assistance, I’d be happy to oblige.”

“I’ll be fine,” Tomoe assured bluntly. “I’d like to figure things out for myself, if you don’t mind.”

“Mmph,” was Jerome’s reply. Weed looked between the two Shepherds. He could tell there was some tension in the air. Quickly, he spoke up.

“Maybe tomorrow we can organize a big hunt with the rest of the army?” he suggested. “It could be--”

“WEED!”

The three dogs perked their ears at the sound of GB’s voice. Looking towards the woods, they could see the Setter emerging, printing towards Gajou.

“Come quickly!” he shouted. “It’s Akame! Akame’s here! Tomoe, you come too!”

“Uh...!?” Tomoe gasped. “If Akame’s here...”

“Father must be back!” an ecstatic Weed cried. Hastily, he rushed to meet GB, Jerome following behind him. Tomoe, however, didn’t see so certain that all was well. She couldn’t explain it, but there was a bad feeling deep in her gut. Something wasn’t right. Tomoe rushed to catch up with the other dogs, and together they ran to the base of the Pass. When they arrived, they could see Ken, Kagetora, Harutora and Nobutora already there, surrounding a familiar, white Kishu who was lying in a thin layer of snow.

“Uncle Akame!” shouted Tomoe. The other dogs looked up, seeing GB, Weed, Jerome and Tomoe approaching. 

“Ah, there they are, sir,” Ken said, looking back at the ganin. “Weed and Tomoe.”

Akame looked up, his eyes widening at the two youngsters. When he looked at Weed, he momentarily believed that he had fallen into the past, and that a younger Gin was approaching him. The resemblance between Weed and Gin was uncanny; one would never even guess that the puppy had Kishu blood. Akame then looked up at Tomoe. When he last saw her, she was about the size of Weed, maybe a bit bigger. Now, she was a young adult adorning scars of battle. Her resemblance to John was 100% the same, but it was definitely close.  

“Uncle...!” Kagetora whispered in awe. Akame snapped back into reality, feeling the wetness of tears on his cheeks.

“If only your fathers were here to see you both...” The ganin whispered softly.

“Where are they, Mr. Akame?” Weed asked, looking around. “Didn’t they come with you?”

“I...” Akame paused, biting his lip. “I’m afraid that Gin and John are in terrible danger...”

Everyone was taken aback. The air had suddenly gotten chillier as Akame’s words sank in. Danger? What sort of danger!?

“What’s happened to my father!?” exclaimed Weed. He stepped closer to the Kishu. “Tell me, Akame!”

“Give him space, damn it...!” Tomoe snapped, forcing the puppy away with a paw. Her voice quivered, something that neither the Kais nor Ken had ever heard from Tomoe before. She wasn’t the type to scare easily. It was obvious that whatever had happened to John was causing her great distress. Regardless of this, Weed narrowed his eyes at the female.

“We’ve been investigating a series of rumors and violent pack takeovers in the Southern Alps,” Akame explained. “We found out about a male named Hougen and his plans to take over Ohu...”

“What!?” Harutora exclaimed.

“We were on our way back, but...” Akame continued. “Hougen ambushed us...! Gin told me to escape and warn everyone.”

“They’re not dead, are they?” asked Tomoe quickly.

“I doubt it,” the Kishu assured. “Gin and John are strong males. A couple of common dogs won’t be enough to kill them. If anything, Hougen’s probably going to hold them prisoner.”

“We can’t just stand around here then...!” said Kagetora. He looked to Weed. “Weed! We need to go and rescue them right now!”

“But...” Weed murmured in uncertainty. Tomoe snarled.

“What do you mean “but”?” she spat.  “All that talk about meeting Gin and you’re hesitating?” Jerome stepped towards Tomoe, uttering a low, warning growl. Tomoe ignored him.

“It’s not like that!” Weed defended himself. “Ohu only has 29 soldiers now! How can we leave the Paradise!?��

“29 soldiers!?” Akame echoed, unable to believe his ears. 

“Unfortunately, we lost most of the Ohu soldiers due to an attack from a monster,” Ken was quick to explain. “It’s a long story...Weed has a point, though, Tomoe. If this Hougen guy wants to take over Ohu, leaving the Paradise without dogs would be foolish.”

“Let’s discuss this later,” Nobutora spoke up. “Please...Mr. Akame needs to rest.”

Everyone had to agree. For Akame’s sake, they’d stopped arguing. Easing the Kishu onto his back, Ken led the group back towards the stronghold. Little did they know, their entire conversation had been watched. 

Hiding in the shadows, taking in every word, was Rocket. 

[bloody-bee-tea]

Inktober for Writers 2019 Day 29

Injured - Life/Death

I really have a thing for Xicheng in a modern setting. It’s gonna be a problem. This is over 2.1k, so there’s a read more.

“Are you out to meet Xichen-ge?” Wei Wuxian asks and Jiang Cheng bristles with the familiarity that name implies.

“Yes,” he presses out and Wei Wuxian laughs, high and loud on the other end of the line.

“No need to be jealous, you know Lan Zhan is the only one for me,” he teases, and Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes.

Wei Wuxian knows him well enough to know that he’s doing it, even if he can’t see him.

“I’m not jealous,” he gives back, because one, he knows Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian only have eyes for each other and two, there isn’t even anything to be jealous about.

He and Lan Xichen are friends. That’s it.

“Sure, sure,” Wei Wuxian says, and Jiang Cheng wishes he could reach through the phone and strangle him.

“We’re friends,” Jiang Cheng stresses, and he might hate that word more than he admits, even to himself sometimes.

He should count himself lucky to be called Lan Xichen’s friend. Lan Xichen is the CEO of his families’ company and one of the most influential and important businessmen in their country.

There aren’t a lot of people who can say that they are Lan Xichen’s friends.

“Of course you are,” Wei Wuxian says on the other end of the line and Jiang Cheng can hear how much he doesn’t believe him.

“I have to go now,” Jiang Cheng ends the conversation rather rudely and simply hangs up on Wei Wuxian.

Immediately his text alerts start blowing up and he puts the phone away with a deep sigh. He only slightly perks up when he reaches the café he’s supposed to be meeting Lan Xichen at and finds him already waiting at their usual table.

Jiang Cheng tells his treacherous heart to quit beating so fast, no matter how often they meet here, it will never be a date.

Lan Xichen surely has better prospects in his life than Jiang Cheng.

Just friends is enough, he reminds himself. It’s hard to believe, even for himself, when Lan Xichen visibly brightens when he sees Jiang Cheng.

“Jiang Cheng,” he greets him with more enthusiasm than a mere meeting between friends maybe warrants and Jiang Cheng drops into the chair opposite of Lan Xichen.

“Hi,” Jiang Cheng says and then scolds himself mentally when he tacks on a ‘Xichen-ge’ in the privacy of his head.

He is being ridiculous.

“Wei Wuxian?” Lan Xichen wants to know, because he knows Jiang Cheng well enough by now to identify a headache brought on by his brother.

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng says with vehemence, making it clear that he does not want to talk about it.

He grimaces in apology right after, because there is really no reason to snap at Lan Xichen like this, but Lan Xichen waves him off.

“No need to apologize, I’m pretty sure I gave Wangji very similar headaches in the past.”

Jiang Cheng doubts that, actually, because not only is Lan Xichen the most gentle person he knows, he’s also nothing like Wei Wuxian.

No one can be as annoying as Wei Wuxian.

He conveys his disbelief with a raised eyebrow and Lan Xichen laughs.

Jiang Cheng feels himself warm up at that sound and he has to lower his gaze because looking at Lan Xichen while he laughs is almost too much.

“How is business?” Jiang Cheng asks once he deems it safe to look at Lan Xichen again, only to see his face contort in displeasure.

“Let’s not talk about it. Tell me about Jin Ling. I heard he got himself into trouble again?”

It’s enough to kickstart an entire rant from Jiang Cheng, because Jin Ling had indeed gotten into trouble again, and even though Jiang Cheng had to punish him for his own stupidity, he was also immensely pleased that Jin Ling had come to him in the first place.

Not that he would ever admit that.

“I told you again and again that the boy loves you,” Lan Xichen tells him when Jiang Cheng is done and Jiang Cheng can feel his cheeks go hot.

He wonders when Lan Xichen learned to read him so well.

“He likes me well enough, I guess,” Jiang Cheng admits, trying not to sound too bitter, because of course the boy adores Wei Wuxian and thinks he hung the sun and moon.

“He trusts you. He might see Wei Wuxian as a playmate,” Lan Xichen says with a teasing smile, “but he knows you’re the one to come to when there’s trouble and he needs help. That is so much more important.”

Jiang Cheng takes a minute to think that over and then nods. Maybe Lan Xichen is right.

“What’s his punishment?”

“Fairy stays with me for a week. Jin Ling seems to be unable to take care of himself, I doubt he can take care of the dog.”

“Fairy is with you?” Lan Xichen asks, and he sounds positively delighted.

“Yes. For now,” he amends, because he knows he’ll give her back to Jin Ling sooner or later.

The kid loves the dog too much for Jiang Cheng to truly separate them.

“And you didn’t bring her?”

“I wasn’t sure—,” Jiang Cheng trails off because he’s not used to the fact that the dog might be welcome.

Wei Wuxian screams every time he so much as catches a glimpse of her, Lan Wangji hates the dog because Wei Wuxian is afraid of it, and Nie Huaisang doesn’t care for dogs at all.

“Can we go for a walk with her? I like Wangji’s rabbits, but they are just so small and delicate,” Lan Xichen tells him, and he seems so eager, Jiang Cheng can hardly say no.

Not that he wants to.

“Sure, she’s due for her walk soon anyway.”

“Perfect,” Lan Xichen replies, and Jiang Cheng somehow expects him to clap his hands together like an excited kid.

They are already almost at Jiang Cheng’s apartment when Lan Xichen bumps their shoulder’s together.

“I really enjoy our time together,” Lan Xichen tells him, and Jiang Cheng’s heart misses a beat, or maybe five.

“I do, too,” he mumbles to the ground, since he’s pretty sure all of his most likely unwanted feelings are going to tumble right out of his mouth if he even so much as glances at Lan Xichen right now.

“Jiang Cheng, actually I meant to ask you something,” Lan Xichen starts, and Jiang Cheng can hear the uncertainty in his voice and it’s enough to bring his gaze back up.

It’s the only reason he sees the man with the gun behind Lan Xichen.

He doesn’t think; can’t think because Lan Xichen’s life depends on him not thinking as he pushes Lan Xichen to the side just as the gunshot rings out.

He has enough time to hope that Lan Xichen will be quick enough to run away before a pain so blinding erupts in his chest he almost immediately loses consciousness.

~*~*~

The first thing Jiang Cheng notices when he wakes up is the pain in his chest. He groans before he blindly grabs for his chest, trying to figure out just what the hell he did to be in this amount of pain.

“Please don’t,” a voice suddenly says and carefully grabs his hand, pulling it away from his chest.

“What?” Jiang Cheng groans out and finally makes the effort to pry his eyes open.

It’s harder than it should be.

“Jiang Cheng,” Lan Xichen says, and for a split second Jiang Cheng wonders if he is still asleep.

Why else would Lan Xichen sit by his bedside and look all disheveled and like he didn’t sleep in a few days.

“What happened?” he croaks and is shocked to see Lan Xichen’s eyes go teary even as he holds out a cup of water for Jiang Cheng to carefully sip from.

“Couldn’t you just have confessed your feelings like a normal person? Was this really necessary?”

Jiang Cheng has no clue what the hell Lan Xichen is even talking about when it all comes back to him in a rush. Their walk back to his home, Lan Xichen meaning to ask something and then the man with the gun.

“Are you—?” he means to ask but Lan Xichen immediately shakes his head.

“I’m fine, nothing happened to me,” he reassures him and Jiang Cheng melts back into the pillows.

“Did you get him?”

“We did,” Lan Xichen tells him and squeezes his hand. “Never do something like this again.”

“He was going to shoot you,” Jiang Cheng argues but goes silent when Lan Xichen bows his head and presses his forehead to Jiang Cheng’s hand still in his grasp.

“And instead he shot you,” Lan Xichen says and Jiang Cheng is startled when he hears the desperation in Lan Xichen’s voice.

When he looks back up his eyes are still wet.

“It’s been two weeks, Jiang Cheng. Two weeks, and for the first few days they couldn’t even tell me if you would live or die,” Lan Xichen says.

Jiang Cheng is speechless, because it doesn’t feel like two weeks to him. It also doesn’t feel like it was a life or death situation.

“Never do something like this again,” Lan Xichen says again and this time he presses his lips to Jiang Cheng’s hand. “I’m not ready to lose you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not ready to lose you either,” Jiang Cheng snaps back and then takes a shallow breath when his chest reminds him that he has just been shot. “You didn’t even see him. He could have killed you then and there.”

“He almost killed you,” Lan Xichen lowly gives back and Jiang Cheng can hardly stand to see him that sad or scared.

“Almost, okay? I’m not dead,” he reminds him.

“Let’s keep it that way, okay?” Lan Xichen asks and Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes at him.

“If you don’t make any more enemies. Who was he, anyway?”

“Su She. I fired him a few weeks back because he sold company secrets to Jin Guangshan and even though I didn’t get the police involved, I guess he has been holding a grudge ever since.”

“Well, I hope he gets what he deserves,” Jiang Cheng mutters and carefully prods at his chest with his free hand.

“Stop that,” Lan Xichen reprimands him and gently slaps his hand away. “It’s still healing.”

“Do things like this happen a lot to you?” Jiang Cheng wants to know, and he curses lowly when Lan Xichen’s face falls at that and he releases his hand.

“I’m sorry I put you into danger,” Lan Xichen tells him without meeting his eyes and gets up. “I’ll make sure it will never happen again.”

He turns around, no doubt to leave, and Jiang Cheng can’t let that happen. He still didn’t get to confess his feelings properly!

“Don’t leave,” Jiang Cheng calls after him and beckons him to come closer when he turns around.

Lan Xichen hesitates for the longest moment before he finally comes back to Jiang Cheng’s bedside.

“I never learned to express my feelings properly,” Jiang Cheng starts and gives an indignant yelp when Lan Xichen has the audacity to laugh at that. “What?”

“Except anger and irritation,” Lan Xichen tells him, but he is still smiling, and Jiang Cheng can’t even be mad at him.

“Except that, maybe,” he agrees and then takes a deep breath before he goes on. “But what I meant to say is that maybe this is all the confession you’ll get from me for now. I’ll work on actually saying it, eventually, but I—you know.”

He can’t quite bear to meet Lan Xichen’s eyes and so he’s startled when Lan Xichen leans forward to press a kiss to his forehead.

“I know. But I’m not quite at a loss for words, so. Jiang Cheng. I really, really like you. Would you please stop doing stupid shit until I get the chance to take you on at least one date?”

Jiang Cheng is too surprised to hear Lan Xichen swear to protest the implication that this was somehow his fault, so instead he just nods dumbly.

“I—you know—yeah. Same,” Jiang Cheng stammers out and he can’t even find it in him to be embarrassed when Lan Xichen laughs at that.

“Please never change,” he says once he calmed down and he cups Jiang Cheng’s cheek in his hand.

Jiang Cheng wonders if his sudden breathing problem is due to the gunshot wound or if maybe Lan Xichen just has that effect on him.

“I’ll try,” Jiang Cheng promises and Lan Xichen chuckles at that.

Jiang Cheng can’t wait to find out what his happiness tastes like.

[another-blog-bites-the-dust]

Invisible.

Summary: After being invisible for most of your life, you finally find John who- years later- sees who you really are.

Warnings: Lots of angst I HATED MAKING JOHN UPSET 😭 swearing, violence, slight suggestiveness, general pain because John gets so angry but ends with fluff!

A/N: John is too innocent for this...which is why I put him through it 😭😅I hope you enjoy! 💖

You always felt invisible to the world, that was probably one of the main reasons why you were so good at your job. You blended in and always perfectly camouflaged between the buildings. No one ever took a second glance at you, they barely noticed you were there anyway.

Except one person.

"Beautiful day, isn't it?" You looked up from the book you were reading on the park bench one sunny evening in July. Your brow crinkled slightly, people in London weren't the friendliest so why was the man beside you starting a conversation?

A small smile appeared on your face "Lovely," you replied "The sun makes the roses smell sweeter for some reason. You can smell the row of flowerbeds filled with them at the front of the park way back here when the sun is shining." You discreetly placed your bookmark between two pages and shut over the book.

The man inhaled some air though his nose- you were right. "John Deacon," You shook his hand but hesitated giving him your name. You eventually told him with a shy grin. You read people well and he was full of innocence and obliviousness. He didn't know who you were and chances were he never would. "There's a cracking little cafe just over there," he pointed to it and you could just see it between the trees. "Fancy a tea, Y/N?"

Since that day you had been drawn to John. He had flirted endlessly with you in the first few weeks you had known him. You hung about the streets of London a lot, he took you to a music shop that was one of his favourites and smugly showed you him expertly strumming a bass guitar with a cheeky grin on his face. "Very impressive," you purred and walked around the shop.

John put the guitar down and then placed his hands in his pockets "Uh...my mum asked if you'd like to come round for dinner tonight?" He asked, not looking up to you due to nerves.

You smiled to yourself, looking at the guitars hanging up on the walls. "You've told your mum about me?"

"Course I have!" He said "I never want to shut up when I start telling people how gorgeous you are or how smart you are." He shyly bit down on his lip, he was taken aback when you casually linked your arm through his, the first of any type of contact with him.

"I'd love that, John." You both didn't know that much about each other- well, you knew more about him than he did of you after all the extensive background checks you did on him and his family. They were nothing for you to worry about. When he asked what you did for a living you had told John that you worked with a security firm- technically that was kind of true. He didn't know the extensiveness of it and there was a fairly large chance he would never know. John picked you up later that night and you went to his parents house, you had bought his mum a bunch of flowers and John's father a bottle of wine. His father mused over the Italian wine with an impressed tone as he inspected the bottle. You didn't want to say that you manged to pick it up when you were in Italy last week being treated like a punchbag- perks of the job.

"So Y/N!" John's mother smiled at you from across the table. You were sat next to John who kept discreetly placing his hand on your knee every now and then. "Do you live in London on your own or do you stay with your parents?"

John shot his mother a wide eyed glare, he gently squeezed on your knee and was about to answer on behalf of you, he wasn't sure how you'd react to that question. He already knew what the answer would be. "Uh no," you sadly smiled "My parents passed away when I was sixteen. I lived with my grandparents until I got a place of my own a few years ago." You placed your hand on top of John's and he released his grip on your knee when you began soothingly rubbing your fingers over his knuckles. John's mother profoundly apologised over and over but you assured her it was alright, she didn't know.

After dinner John took you up to his old bedroom. "Sorry about mum,"

"No," you smiled and took his hand "It's okay!" You were leaning up against the wall, John was moving closer and closer to you. He gently pressed his lips to yours, even though you knew he was going to kiss you, it still took you by surprise. He pulled back faster than his lips were on yours and nervously apologised. You grinned and grabbed his hand before he could move away and tugged him towards you. "Only apologise if you're not going to do it again..." you smiled and John happily took that as a sign. His lips were on yours once more.

•••

"Things between you and John getting serious then?" Your colleague and friend, Mark, asked. "Only I heard that you've moved in with him now."

You shrugged a shoulder with a small smile on your face "A part of me hopes it's getting serious...the other part is petrified that he's going to find out everything." You sighed and sat down next to Mark to get some advice. "How did you tell Claire?" You asked, referring to his wife.

"I didn't. You know we can't tell anyone unless they find out- even then we can only tell them so much." He tapped away on the computer in front of him "I know you're worried something bad is going to happen to him," you glanced up to Mark and then let your eyes fall. He was right. In this line of work people were always after you and you didn't want to put John in any danger. "There's a way you can kind of keep him under a watchful eye- aside from security cameras and such." He motioned to the gold chain on your neck that had a locket attached. It was more than just a necklace- it was a tracking device. "Give him your tracker, you can always get another one."

You nodded and let out a sigh. "He's going on a European tour. He leaves tomorrow afternoon." You said. "It's good when he's gone- not good," you quickly corrected yourself feeling a little guilty for saying that. "But easier." Mark hummed, understandingly. "When he's touring he doesn't know I'm in another country almost dying," you chortled and nervously picked at your fingernails. "I think he would be crushed if he ever found out about what I do. That's why I'm hoping he'll never find out." You took off your necklace "But for now I can try and keep him safe."

Later that night, your head was resting on your hand while you traced your fingers across John's bare chest while your legs were intertwined together. "I'll miss you so much," John smiled "But I'll be back in a few weeks."

"You'll be too busy rocking out every night to miss me," you smirked and pressed a kiss to his lips. "I want you to have something," you whispered, looking deep into John's eyes before taking off your necklace and clasping it around his neck. He grinned and glanced down, rubbing it between his fingers. "Keep a piece of me with you and you'll always be safe..." you brushed your fingers over the chain, tears welling in your eyes.

"I'll never take it off my neck so long as shall live." He kissed you "I'll treasure it forever." You let out a small sob and hugged him tightly. "Love," John cooed "I'm only gone for a few weeks, I'll be home back in bed with you before you know it."

"I know," you sniffled and curled up against him. The necklace shone in the faint moonlight, almost taunting you. "Stay safe."

•••

You flinched and stood up straight when you heard your superior announce herself. "Ma'am," you nodded. She handed you a file "What's this?" You asked with your brow furrowing slightly at the papers that read: 'SECURITY BRIEFING' at the top.

"The royals, Prince Charles and Princess Diana, have specifically asked for you to be their guard at Live Aid next week."

You went wide eyed and hurried to catch up with her "I c-can't do that ma'am!" Your voice trembled "J-John- Queen! Queen are going to be there and John will see me!" It had been a few years since John returned from his tour around Europe. Your necklace was still hanging from his neck. And an engagement ring was hanging from yours. You never wore it at work or on a job- if someone caught you, they'd know you had someone that they could use against you. You always slipped it on when you arrived home though.

She raised a brow and folded her arms at your outburst. "Sadly we do not get to pick and choose in this field, agent." She said between gritted teeth. "Especially when the royals specifically asked for you. Most people would be thrilled at that! You have been their guard many times over the years and they consider you one of the best and the most professional. You will do this." You huffed and ran a hand through your hair, debating with her about John. She narrowed her eyes "Make yourself invisible then. You're good at that."

"John always sees me!" Your voice cracked "Ma'am-"

She held up her hand "This discussion is finished, Y/L/N. I'm sorry but this has to be done." She walked away and you let out frustrated growl under your breath.

John noticed a shift in your mood after that day, he was getting worried. "Are you going to be there tomorrow?" He asked and you hesitated taking a sip of tea.

"Uh...I meant to say," you placed down your mug "Work needs me and I...I'm sorry, John."

His eyes softened and he hugged you- you were surprised at his reaction. "Is this why you've been acting weird over the past week? Because you can't go tomorrow?"

"I know how important this is to you and the boys..." your voice was shaking and so were your hands. "I'm sorry," you whispered and a tear fell down your cheek.

John was quick to wipe it away "Hey, hey, hey! It's okay!" He smiled reassuringly.

"Why are you always so good to me? So understanding?" You turned away from him and let out a staggered breath. "I don't deserve you..."

John scoffed and hugged you from behind "Now don't you be getting all like that! There's plenty more concerts for you to come too!" He turned you to face him. "Please don't cry," he softly rubbed away your tears with his thumbs while cupping your face. "You'll set me off!" You pressed your forehead against his and he pecked your nose. "Why don't we have an early night, hmm? Would you like that?" You tentatively nodded. 24 hours from now this could all be very different but you had to try and be invisible from John and the band- it was the only way.

•••

"Is everything alright?" You looked up to the soft voice and blinked "Only you look a little nervous, Y/N."

You smiled "I'm perfectly alright, your highness." She raised her brow. Diana knew you well enough now that something was the matter. You sighed "Queen are playing so that means John's here today and...and he doesn't know what I do." You explained and she sent you a sympathetic smile. You had told her all about him and of course, your worries about him eventually finding out. Over the years you both confided in each other and considered each other as more a close friend and not as a member of the royal family and a bodyguard. "I have to keep myself invisible from him."

She placed a hand on your arm and sent you a small smile "I'll do my bit to help," she winked and you grinned.

"I'm the once supposed to be protecting you...not the other way about!" You laughed and she giggled. You all walked through backstage to get to their seats.

"Your highness!" Someone stopped and bowed in front of Charles and Diana and you swiftly raised an arm across them, reminding the person of their boundaries. "Some of the performers would like to meet you!" Diana shot you a concerned gaze but you sent her a small nod when you noticed The Who and Bowie up ahead. Queen were no where in sight. You kept close to the royals as they moved forward and shook people's hands. "And here comes more royalty!" You froze catching a glimpse of John's fluffy hair. You looked to the ground and tried to hide your face a little. But you looked up just as John glanced behind Diana, his smile falling. He opened his mouth to call out your name but Diana stood in front of him, blocking his line of vision.

"John Deacon, isn't it?" She sweetly smiled and held out her hand for him to shake. John couldn't deny royalty. He shook her hand but still tried to look to see if it was really you behind her. "Very nice to meet you- thank you for your contribution today." She sweetly smiled. "We should be going to our seats." She gently nudged Charles who nodded in agreement. Diana discreetly pulled you with her to try and get you out of the situation. John stood there numb- he didn't know what to feel. Was it actually you?

"Thank you," you sadly whispered to her "You didn't have to do that for me..."

She smiled and reassuringly squeezed your hand "I know, but you risk your life for us...it's the least I can do." You sat beside her while you watched the concert- watching John on stage always made your heart swell. When they finished you stood up and clapped with tears welling in your eyes. Then the band bloody sat behind you all- just your luck. You could hear John murmur your name to the boys and you shut your eyes over, shakily sighing and bracing yourself for a hand tapping on your shoulder.

Then you felt the tap. Your eyes flickered over your shoulder and you saw a flash of blonde. "It is you!" Roger smiled. Diana sent you a wary glance and you reassured her with a small nod. "John was wondering-"

You cut him off "I'm working." You hissed and looked at John who looked as if he wanted to ask you a million questions. "I can't talk to any of you right now..." you turned back around and rubbed the bridge of your nose between your fingers. You had a lot of explaining to do.

•••

You arrived home, there was a faint glow coming from the kitchen. You sighed and placed your keys down before walking through. John was sitting at the table with a cup of tea that was half empty. He looked up to you and then took a sip. You sat down across from him and began twirling your fingers. "I didn't plan on telling you like this..." you quietly admitted.

"No, I bet you weren't going to tell me at all." John snapped. He had every right to be angry with you and you were ready for his wrath, but it still hurt. "What even are you?" He asked with tears starting to sting his eyes. "What do you do? Are you a bodyguard?"

"Sometimes," you whispered.

John banged his fist against the table and you flinched. "Stop being so vague with me!"

"I couldn't tell you unless you knew!" Your voice raised and a tear slipped down your face.

"That doesn't even make any sense!" John turned away and loudly sniffled. "Who do you work for? Clearly not a typical security firm!"

"MI5 originally....now MI6," you told him even though you really shouldn't have- your revelation shocked him, you could see it on his face. "Secret service agent- I suppose you could class me as a spy depending on the situation. The royals often request me as a bodyguard. I uh...carry out a lot of reconnaissance missions, things like that."

"Have you got hurt before?" He asked, his anger briefly being clouded by concern.

"Sometimes," you replied.

"Badly?" John raised a wary brow and you shook your head no but didn't look him in the eye. A moment of silence passed. "Have you been shot at before?" He asked in a low tone.

"No." Lie.

"Have you shot at someone else before?"

"No." Lie.

He remained quiet for a few seconds. "Have you killed someone before?" You looked to the table and then back to John.

"No." Lie.

"Are you lying?" He sternly asked. You sighed and looked away from him- your silence said it all. "Why all the lies?!" He cried, hot tears flowing down his red cheeks.

"Because I've always been invisible John!" You shouted, taking him by surprise. "Even you only saw a certain extent of me but now...now you can see it all- you can really see me!" You leaned forward "I know what you see...you see a monster. You don't see the woman you fell in love with!"

"I'VE ALWAYS SEEN HER!" He yelled even louder than you and that knocked you back a little. "What was going to happen if you died on the job? Huh?" He seethed- almost hating himself for thinking like that.

"I wrote a letter-"

He cut you off with an unamused, fake laugh. "Oh a letter! Of course! 'Sorry, love, if you're reading this I've been lying this entire time about what I do and well, when's a better time to tell you in an agent for the secret service? When I'm dead!'" He screamed and stood up, leaning over the table. "I bet you didn't even think about me...think about us!" You sadly looked to the chain around his neck and wanted to tell him that of course you thought about him- that necklace around his neck was proof of that. But you stood up and said that you were going to bed- you didn't want to aggravate him any further. You were waiting for John to climb in beside you, wrap his arm around your waist and then whisper sweet words in your ear that would send you off to sleep- but those things never came. When you got up the next morning with stinging eyes and a headache, he wasn't there and your necklace was sitting on the kitchen table.

You eventually arrived at work and sat down with a groan next to Mark. "John found out," you said in a groggy voice. "Left me this morning...wasn't there then I woke up and he took off the necklace." You sighed and shook your head. "The worse part isn't even that he found out...the worse part was seeing the look of fear, disappointment and anger on his face."

Mark placed a hand on your shoulder "He doesn't understand why you lied, Y/N. He doesn't understand that we all have to lie to protect the ones we love. I know that John loves you unconditionally but you have to give him some time. He'll be asking himself a million questions right now- time is the best thing you can give him." You tightly smiled and nodded tentatively. "Got the files for your next mission. A good distraction for you!" He smirked and you just about managed to crack a smile.

You glanced over the notes before being summoned by your boss. You made the journey up to her office, dragging your heels on the way down the hall. You opened the door and went wide eyed "J-John?" You whispered and felt tears pricking your eyes. "W-why are you here?" You asked and stepped further into the office, shutting the door behind you.

"Found him practically demanding to speak with me, Y/L/N," she glared at John. "Take a seat," she motioned to the chair across from John. You sat down and looked at him, it looked like he had barely slept and had been crying for hours. "Mr Deacon," your boss captured his attention. "You must understand that everything that is said in here is all classified information- that also applies to every word she said last night." You placed your head in your hand- of course she'd know you'd tell him. "Because if you say anything, you do not only put her in danger, but you also put yourself in danger." John squeezed his eyes shut and dismally nodded.

"I just...need to be reassured that she'll be okay. If anything happened to-" he cut himself off and began crying again. It broke your heart. You reached for his hand and he let you take it, he was still angry at you for not telling him but it was comforting to know that you were there for him.

An idea popped into your mind. "Show him a scenario situation- five minutes is all I'm asking for."

She laughed at your mad suggestion. "Bold of you assume five minutes is enough time for you..." she uttered.

"Bold of you assume that five minutes isn't enough time for me," you challenged. "If he doesn't get to see me in a situation- I'm walking. I'll hand in my badge and my gun." John's brows raised when you mentioned a gun. "Please," you pleaded. "I want John to know that I can handle myself in dangerous situations. I need to assure him." He gently squeezed your hand and you softly smiled. It was something he always did when he heard you getting upset.

Your boss sighed and nodded "Fine. Five minutes, four men-"

You cut her off "Eight."

"Four!" She raised her voice a little.

You kept your cool "Eight."

"Okay...six!" She said.

"Ten."

She was getting to the end of her tether. You knew you'd get your demand. "Fine! You want ten- you get ten!" She snapped. "Ten men in five minutes...lucky boys. Get yourself organised, agent." You stood up and nodded at her with a smile. It fell slightly with guilt when you glanced at John. He watched you leave the room and a few minutes later, he left with your boss.

John was lead to a room with a two way mirror on the wall. It looked into a room with ten men in it. They had various dangerous weapons in their belts and wearing protective body armour. John saw you sitting in the middle on a chair with your hands and legs bound. "Why doesn't she have anything?" He asked, worry laced between every word.

Your boss proudly smiled. "She doesn't need anything." She held down a button and spoke into a microphone. "Time starts...now." In a blink of an eye you had already managed to untie yourself and take down one of the ten men. You grabbed the gun that was in his belt and began shooting. John jumped and held his chest. Your boss smirked "It's alright, Mr Deacon...all weapons are duds and the guns fire blanks. It's just an indication of wether they are out of the scenario or not. If they take her on with hand on hand combat, they shout out before she's able to seriously hurt them...or kill them." She smirked and John gulped. He watched you use your whole body as a weapon. The same body he tickled when he was feeling playful. The same body he rubbed when it was tense. The same body he kissed and caressed. The same body he held and worshiped when he made love to you. He glanced at the clock- a minute left with three men remaining. You easily took down two of them within seconds of each other. The last man standing punched you in the face a little too hard and you could taste blood on your lip. You growled and managed to flip him by the arm and press him against the two way mirror. John jumped back and watched the man scream out that he was finished. You dropped him with ten seconds to spare. "I hope you understand Mr Deacon...your fiancée is the best agent and weapon we have." She turned to John "That's why I did this favour for her...for both of you." She glanced behind John's shoulder and he turned. He saw you by the doorframe wiping the blood away from your lip. "I'll let you have a moment together."

You sent her a thankful smile and she shut the door behind you. You were both silent for a few minutes until you finally spoke up. "You have no idea how much I wanted to tell you," you whispered. "I couldn't. It went against protocol and I couldn't put you in any danger. I love you too much to do that to you, so I kept a part of me from you- a part I knew you probably wouldn't be able to love anyway." John sniffled slightly and discreetly tried to wipe away his tears. "Lots of people want me dead, John." You lowly spoke and his eyes snapped up to you, narrowing with worry. "If they knew about you...I'd hate to think what would happen. I just wanted to keep you safe- hence the necklace." You let out a shaky sigh "It's a tracking device."

He nodded "Of course it is...why wouldn't it be?!" He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm still angry, Y/N," he admitted "But I will always love you." You let out a sob and John rushed over to you and wrapped his arms around you. "Every part of you," he whispered and hugged you tighter before pulling back and wiping away the small dot of blood on your lip. "You're really good...no! Amazing- at what you do!"

"Sadly that's only scratching the surface of my skills..." you whispered. You laced your fingers with John's "I'm sorry." John just held you in his arms, they were warm and always made you feel safe. He couldn't stay with you all day- you still had work to do and eventually had to leave MI6 but he was in the house when you arrived home. And he was wearing the necklace.

"Thought we could watch a film and snuggle on the sofa tonight?" He suggested and you nodded with a smile. He put on the video and you curled up beside him on the couch with a blanket over you both. John glanced down at you in awe. He couldn't believe how normal you really were, especially when he had seen you take down ten men only hours before.

"What's the film?" You asked and John gulped- not knowing if you'd laugh or kill him at the choice. The theme to James Bond played and you slowly looked to John with a glare. "I just thought that the two of you had a lot in common and I- no! S-stop!" He laughed as you tickled him. "I t-thought it would be f-funny!" He said between giggles. You stopped tickling him when you realised your faces were inches apart. John closed the gap and grabbed your face, passionately kissing you and then pinning you to the couch. "The love of my life is a fucking badass spy." You let out a loud laugh and he kissed you again.

"Thank you, John...for giving me another chance," you kissed him again "And seeing me when I was invisible." You brushed your fingers over his cheeks before deciding to show him how strong you really were by picking him up bridal style- causing him to laugh. "I think my next mission is going to be my best one," you grinned and John raised a brow, asking you what the mission was. You smirked and headed towards the bedroom "It's an undercover mission with you," you suggestively purred and John's eyebrows swiftly raised and a boyish grin spread across his face. John thought that maybe having a fiancée who was a spy wasn't such a bad thing.

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