#part of the reason I shy away from them despite my awe is I can feel their weight in my hands

[when-are-you-coming-back-steve]

Which tma fear(s) do you find yourself aligned with?

okok this is hard but i'd say The Hunt on some level. I feel genuine terror playing games including chasing and hiding. I feel too much like prey, like I will always be hunted no matter what I do, it is written in my bones, I will always be chased, I will always be found, I will be caught and I will be eaten. Also eating foods such as steak and like. seafood boils, where I can bring meat and bone to my mouth and I bite and tear and crack is top enrichment for me. Nothing I love more than becoming the animal I am with the teeth made to eat everything.

[thelov3lybookworm]

Gone Through Enough (part 2)

Day 2: Childhood

Summary: New friends and heartbreaks.

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Word Count: 2053

A/n: hehehe this one is looong (kinda)

@erisweekofficial

this is the part 2 of this series, soooo

✨ENJOYYY✨

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Y/n had not wanted to move into the big, scary looking palace, but her mom had told her that it was important. Something about a high lord and her father working for him.

It did not mean the high walls intimidated her any less. The palace-like house looked like it contained ghosts. The place was too big for Y/n’s liking, who was used to living in a home where every corner was filled with love and didn’t look like you would get snatched wherever you turned.

The palace looked like the people inside would be mean and not give Y/n her favourite pineapple cake just for the sake of making her cry.

She reached up to grasp her father’s hand tightly, Sir Pine clutched tightly in her other arm, her stuffed bunny.

George August glanced down at his little daughter, smiling slightly at the petrified look on her face as the driver of the carriage finished unloading the bags the family had brought along. Servants rushed to pick up the bags, bowing deeply before hurrying away. It scared Y/n more, and she let go of her father’s hand to wrap herself around his leg.

Alana glanced at her husband, then tried to get Y/n to let go.

George simply smiled, then gathered Y/n in his arms. "You have nothing to worry about, my love. You will make friends here."

The girl blinked at her father.

He chuckled. "There is a boy your age. I’m sure you will be the best of friends. You will be kind to him, won’t you?"

The girl nodded vigorously, her fright momentarily forgotten as she began rambling about how she would share her toys with him.

George led them in, already familiar with the layout of the massive fortress, considering he was the high lord’s most trusted advisor. Also the reason he was ordered to move in with the royal family.

The high lord had bestowed what he thought was a favour upon the Augusts.

Stalking through the winding corridors with his daughter hugging him tightly, George finally stopped in front of the chambers the high lord had assigned to the family, then passed Y/n to his wife.

"Alana, there is a chance the lady would be waiting for you inside. Good luck."

Alana nodded, then walked in, setting Y/n on the ground.

Y/n was in awe of the room. Despite how scary the exterior looked, the room she had come in with her mother was very nice. The walls were the same colour as Y/n’s room back at her old home, the fire in the hearth warming up the entire sitting area.

Where a lady was also waiting with a boy in her lap.

Y/n gasped, then hurried to hide behind her mother, her little frock bouncing against her knees.

"My lady, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you." Y/n’s mother spoke, her voice echoing in the high arched chamber.

"I would love to say the same, Lady August. And who’s that little angel behind you, if I may ask?"

Y/n peeked around her mother’s skirts, eyes wide as she stared at the lady from before. She looked nice, and not how Y/n had thought she would look like because she lived in this scary palace.

Y/n refused to speak unless her mother told her to, so she waited as the two ladies continued speaking, then looked at the boy who poked his head out from behind the lady. He had the same height as Y/n, and his hair was red. What shocked Y/n though was his eyes. She had personally never met someone with amber eyes.

They looked almost like liquid gold.

"Y/n? Meet Eris." Y/n glanced up at her mother when the lady spoke, suddenly feeling shy. "Oh, and pardon me. I did not introduce myself! Silly me, I am lady Autumn, though you can call me anything you want."

Y/n ducked her head in a shy nod, smiling because that was the right thing to do as Y/n’s old nanny said.

"Eris? Why don’t you show Y/n your toys, huh?"

The boy nodded, then came forward. He offered his hand to Y/n, who glanced at her mother before taking it. He led her out and into another room, where he pulled out a box of wooden swords and shields.

It is safe to say Y/n got bored pretty soon.

But she did love playing with him and dragged him off to show him her toys, though she did have to be her mother to unpack her toys.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Eris’s pov.

Eris had nothing to smile about, really. But he woke up with a smile every morning because of her.

Y/n was his friend, the only one he knew cared about him. She made him smile, she made him laugh. Hell, she made him cry. But it was something he was happy about, because he could never cry in front of anyone else.

Even alone in his own room, he hesitated to let go of his frustration in tears, because being the son of the high lord, even the walls were his enemy.

But with her, he felt safe, secure. Everytime after a beating, she would come talk to him, bring snacks. She would look into his eyes and instantly know whether he wanted her to ignore his newest bruises or whether he wanted to sob his heart out.

She was just like that, his Y/n. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

So when he heard the news of her departure from the capital and into a fairly far away province, his heart nearly gave out.

As he now ran towards her room after overhearing a conversation between George and his father, he wondered if there was any way he could beg her to stay.

Wondered if it would even matter, considering it was the high lord who was sending the August’s away because he was pleased.

Beron had decided to gift one of the bigger provinces to them because he was pleased with their loyalty and services to him.

Eris doubted it was the only reason, considering Y/n and Eris had been growing ever closer recently.

But his mind emptied of thoughts as he skidded to a halt in front of the large double doors and then, heart in his throat, pushed them open and hurried inside.

There on the couch sat Y/n, holding her favourite bunny toy that was falling apart at the seams.

His heart stopped, then started beating faster.

Eris was barely fourteen, still a baby in fae standards, but he was not dumb enough to not understand what he felt towards Y/n was not just friendship.

But he did not want to think too much about what he felt when the one he cared so much for was sobbing right in front of his eyes.

She glanced up as soon as he sat down next to her, and reached out her hand to hold his. "Eris." she gushed, "I don’t want to go. I will have no one to play with, no one to talk to. I don’t want to leave you here either, Er."

He nodded, tugging her into a hug.

"I don’t want to leave you here. He will hit you again and I won’t be here to hug you. What will you do?"

"If I’m being honest, I don’t know how I will survive either. But we have no other option, you know that."

She nodded, pulling away and wiping her tears. "Promise we’ll stay in touch?"

She extended her smallest finger to him, and despite how ridiculous he had always found this pinky promise of hers, he lifted his hand, wrapping his finger around hers, nodding. "Promise."

But as a day later, Eris watched her wave at him teary eyed, and then watched the carriage drive off, the horses whining, he knew it would be almost impossible to keep that promise.

And even though he knew she was as helpless as he was, he did not realise when tha seed of resentment took root in his heart where once a happy tree flourished in the barren land of his conscious.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

"So I get anything I want if I agree to help you out?"

Eris nodded, meeting the three pairs of eyes that sat around the lounge in his bedchambers.

"Anything that is within reason, obviously."

"So if I want more land, I get it. If I want to come back and be a part of your council of advisors, I will-"

"Yes. As long as it is not something as absurd as handing you the whole court, I will give it to you."

George August grinned, standing up and sending a glance at Y/n. "The plan has already been set in motion."

Eris wondered if Y/n knew, but by the furrow on her forehead, she didn’t. The fact that she was even a pawn in this dangerous game -let alone the fact that she had been oblivious about it- boiled Eris’s blood.

"Care to elaborate?"

Y/n’s father opened his mouth, and with every word that he uttered, Eris had to hold himself back from punching his teeth down his throat.

Y/n showed no emotions as her father talked about his plan, and when her mother started giving her inputs, she just looked numb.

But Eris could see the turmoil in her eyes.

When George finally stopped speaking, Eris dismissed them, but then he did what he never would have in his sane mind.

But, well, he was not in his sane mind.

"Y/n. Stay, I have to talk to you about something."

She glanced at him skeptically, her eyes burning, but then dipped her head in a nod.

Eris did not miss the smirk George shot his wife as the couple exited.

He walked over to his liquor cabinet, pulling out a bottle of whiskey and began making himself a glass.

Y/n remained quiet while he worked, but Eris could feel her gaze on him the whole time.

Once he was done, he settled down on the settee, meeting her eyes.

"Are you okay with this plan?"

She raised one perfect eyebrow. "Why do you care?"

He stared at her as he shot back the glass in his hand, refusing to wince as the liquid burned his throat.

"Are you okay with this plan."

She snorted. "Like it matters to you."

She turned to the door, her hand grabbing the handle. But before she could so much as take her next breath, he was on her.

"I think I asked you a question, Y/n."

She glared at him over her shoulder as he pressed her against the door. "And so did I."

Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t-

"It does matter to me Y/n. It does because if you are not okay with this plan, it could go wrong-"

She let out a harsh laugh, pushing against his hold. He let her go, scowling as she turned to him with a sadistic smile. "Of course. It only matters to you because me being a pawn in this benefits you."

His heart begged Eris to tell her the truth, but Eris refused to bow down.

"I mean, what did I even expect? You didn’t care about me this past century and a half. Why would you care now?"

He narrowed his eyes at her, placing his palm above her head, the grooves carved into the wood digging into his skin. "You never tried to reach out to me for you to pretend it was my fault we did not stay in touch."

Her lips parted, disbelief shining in her beautiful eyes.

"You don’t know what you are talking about. And even if I did not reach out, you never tried to either. You can’t put the whole blame on me."

She spoke the truth. That did not mean Eris liked it.

He maintained eye contact, breathing deep in through his nose before she shoved him off of her, scoffing when he stumbled back.

And then she left.

Just like she had over a century ago.

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[hinata6uchiha]

Quietly, Yours - Sasuke's feelings + Bonus stuff

I'm not sure if anyone has picked up on this yet, but in Quietly, Yours, Sasuke already has feelings for Hinata. He might not fully recognize them on a conscious level, but they're definitely there, buried deep within his subconscious. That's why he becomes annoyed whenever Hinata pays too much attention to Naruto, even though he occasionally tries to help Naruto notice her. This was particularly shown in the previous chapter when Naruto visited Hinata at the hospital, leading to the scene we had here from chapter 5:

Sasuke scoffed lightly, pushing away from the doorway and stepping toward the other side of her bed across from Naruto. His expression softened just slightly when his gaze drifted down to her. "I already told you, I'm fine." His eyes flickered sharply back to Naruto then, narrowing once more with something faintly accusatory. "It's nice to see you decided to visit today."

Hinata blinked in confusion, not understanding the subtle implication behind Sasuke's words. However, she did notice how Naruto stiffened slightly, a flicker of embarrassment crossing his face before it quickly disappeared behind his usual grin.

Naruto laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Heh, what's that supposed to mean, teme? Of course I'd come see Hinata!"

In the highlighted purple section, Sasuke mentioned this because he knew Naruto only went to visit Hinata after finding out that Sasuke had been visiting her daily. Naruto sees Sasuke as his rival and always wants to outdo him when he can. For example, he notices that Sakura clearly has a crush on Sasuke, so he does everything in his power to get her attention. He also sees how strong and "cool" Sasuke is, and constantly tries to be even cooler.

When it comes to Hinata, Naruto will start to realize how close she is to Sasuke and will want that kind of bond too. He wants it with Sasuke, but he doesn’t know how to form it, which is something Hinata picks up on. At the same time, part of him becomes curious about Hinata, because he knows Sasuke usually ignores other girls. So he wonders what makes her different. What’s so special about her?

Once Naruto learned that Sasuke considers Hinata his best friend, his curiosity only grows. That’s the real reason he went to visit her in the hospital. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have gone, and Sasuke knows it. He wasn’t happy about it either. He’s protective of Hinata, and he knows how much she likes Naruto. From his perspective, it felt like Naruto was only visiting her as a way to compete, and Sasuke doesn’t want her to be used like that. To him, Hinata is the closest thing he has to family. Despite his usually impassive demeanor, he doesn’t hesitate to show it when someone does something to Hinata that he doesn’t like.

Hinata, quiet and shy as she is, feels the same way about Sasuke. They just express how much they care about each other in different ways.

That said, Naruto and Hinata will grow closer as friends, especially once we reach the arc where Sasuke leaves Konoha and during the time skip (which I seriously can’t wait for all of you to read >3<).

I say all this to say:

Sasuke does like Hinata, even if he won’t fully connect the dots until much later, after the time skip.

Hinata thinks Sasuke likes Sakura, which has already been hinted at in a previous chapter, and there will be more on that in the upcoming ones.

Naruto will eventually develop a crush on Hinata.

Gaara and Hinata will also become good friends. I’ve thought about removing the NaruHina angle and shifting it to GaaHina before SasuHina really starts, but I love GaaHina too much. I’d feel awful breaking Gaara’s heart. So I’ve decided to stick with NaruHina since I can tolerate Naruto’s heart being broken (sorry, Naruto ^^;) but not my precious Gaara :( I already had a hard time doing the one-sided crush with Gaara x Hinata in Glass Tears. So...yeah ;-;

This story might end up being a long one. Maybe even longer than Glass Tears? Though I might be jumping the gun, saying that. Quietly, Yours starts when they’re twelve, but the story will definitely reach the Blank Period, and I may even go a little beyond that.

I'm currently working on chapter 6, and it should be updated within the next couple of hours. After that, I'll continue working on Paper Rings and Broken Hearts, and that should be updated (hopefully) by the end of today (Pacific Time).

[thewildsophia]

.For When I Don't Rember My Beloved. WordGirl//Dr. Two-Brains

Dr. Two-Brains/Steven Boxleitner x Reader

Word Count: 4130

"Read More" placed due to length

The henchmen Charlie and “Meatloaf” were the first to aid Dr. Two Brains in the cheese-centric havoc he rained over Fair City. Dr. Two Brains was a strange man, to say the least, but he was weird in an endearing way…ehh, kinda. But you must have thought so too since you were soon to join him, being recruited just a few days after them. 

It was strange really. One day you didn’t exist to them and the next Dr. Two Brains was strolling you into the lair stating that you would be his first in command and that they should report to you. Oh well, there's not much they can do otherwise.

At least you were nice enough. You didn’t yell and berate them like the doctor would — quite the opposite. You were kind and reasonable to them, never placing unattainable expectations on them. You were slow to anger, but they may catch you in a foul mood on a particularly awful day. Overall, you were very normal, very sane, and nothing like their boss which confused them so much about your sudden employment. Yet oddly enough you never told them your name, opting to have them address you as “Commander.” They’re not even sure they’ve heard Dr. Two Brains call you by your name either.

They figured the doctor valued you more than the actual henchmen since you were also a doctor yourself. You didn’t speak much about that fact, but the lab coat and PPE you always wore or at least had on hand clued them into the fact that you were probably an associate of his before his accident. When they asked you about what kind of doctor you were, you were very short in your response, only telling them you specialized in cellular biology and worked at the local hospital at one point.

They watched how you interacted with their boss and were shocked at your boldness towards him. You weren’t shy about voicing your concerns with his plans much to the boss’s dismay, frustrating him even more and forcing him to revise his plan twice, thrice, however many times until you were satisfied. Yet despite his irritation with your feedback, he always acted on what you said. In addition, you were the only one he let aid him in constructing his machinery. Your involvement would range from handing him tools to constructing parts of a larger machine depending on how complicated the schematic the doctor had drawn up, often time being tweaked by you before he began construction. You’d even talk to the boss about his health, pushing him to stay active even in small ways and to try and incorporate small items into his diet that weren’t just cheese. You’d even cook for the man!

To the henchmen, you seemed more like a friend to their boss rather than a worker, and they supposed that’s why you were his “First Commander” instead of another henchman. 

Yet Meatloaf couldn’t help but notice the longing looks you would shoot the doctor, an unreadable expression on your face. He listened to how you spoke firmly but gently to the boss, never once raising your voice no matter how belligerent and unreasonable he would become. Charlie saw the lingering touches you would brush against the doctor’s skin, not wanting to pull away yourself yet not having the heart to stand when the boss would inevitably push you away from him. He watched as you would care for him in small ways like organizing his tools or draping a blanket over him when he would pass out on the couch. They both figured you had feelings for their boss as strange as the man was. That would explain why you so willingly allowed yourself to be hired by their insane boss and why you did things that most certainly weren’t part of your job description.

Oh, how close yet so far they were from the truth with this idea in their mind.

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

You practically lived in the lair with Dr. Two Brains, so it was no surprise that you were there before Charlie or Meatloaf. What was surprising was that you were nowhere to be found when the two henchmen came in that morning. You’d usually be busying yourself with some minute task in the main part of the lair, yet today you were not there. 

Just a few minutes earlier, right before the two henchmen had arrived, you had been called over by Dr. Two Brains to help in his “office,” which was just a small back room that was mostly stable and had a partially functioning door on it. He said he wanted your input on his schematic for a ray that would turn gold into cheese. You didn’t go to him immediately, opting to finish what you were doing in the front of the lair before helping him. Your concentration drifted from that task when you heard the crashing of books and the scattering of papers coming from his office. 

You’re quick to sprint over to his office, calling out to him in worry all the way there.

“Doc?” You asked, rounding the corner of the hall, “You alright?” 

You peeked your head into his room to see it in complete disarray. Papers fluttered to the ground and the few reference books you had managed to steal get for him were scattered about without care. Your eyes were drawn to Two Brains in the corner, back against the wall, and head in his hands, his mouse brain pulsing.

He groaned as he tried to soothe his aching head, yet the pain would not let up. You slowly made your way over to him, tiptoeing over the scattered papers and open books. 

“I’m here, Doc,” You whispered, kneeling in front of him and placing a hand on his knee. If he knew you were there, he didn’t acknowledge you. His hands gripped his head harder with strands of his white hair sticking to the rubber of his gloves and slipping between his fingers. He muttered something, but you couldn’t understand him.

You scooted even closer and placed your hands on his own before gently pulling his fingers out of his hair, though they would not leave his head. You rubbed his hands through his gloves and softly spoke to him,

“I’m right here for you, Doctor. Just tell me what’s wrong and I’ll help you.”

Dr. Two Brains’ muttering stopped and his movements stilled. His hands gently gripped your own and slowly he let you pull his hands away from his face where you placed them on his knees.

His eyes were irritated and red-rimmed, much more than usual, and tears were caught in his whiskers on their way down his lithe face. His cheeks were flush, most likely from crying so hard and unable to breathe properly. He licked his lips and inhaled a shuddering breath before trying to speak again. He was unable to through his raw throat.

“It’s okay,” You whispered, rubbing your fingers comfortingly on his hands, “Just breathe.”

His dark eyes looked into your own E/C ones and for a moment you saw recognition in them. 

“Y/N?” Dr. Two Brains questioned, and it felt as if the breath was forced from your lungs. 

Eyes blown wide you’re silent for a moment, unable to force even a breath from your body. Your hands grip him harder and you feel your eyes burn from unseen tears and your face warm. Your bottom lip trembled but you forced your jaw to unclench and answered unsure,

“Steven?” And he hummed in response.

Dr. Two Brains, Steven, looked around the room and sniffed before looking back at you. 

“What’s…going on? Where are we?” Steven asked, but you were still unable to say anything in response. In an instance, you moved his knees aside and fell into his chest, wrapping your arms tightly around his torso. He groaned from the hard impact, but quickly wrapped his own arms around you and rested his chin on your head with a chuckle. 

“What’s wrong, Darling? Why are…” Steven’s question trails off as he wipes the tears off his cheek, “We both crying?” 

You wanted to answer him, but you couldn’t force a single word from your mouth, opting to press your face harder into his chest and hug him tighter. You breathed in his scent, laced with some cheddar cheese but still him, before pulling away to look at him and God…

How long has it been since he’s looked at you like this? 

Eyes soft but still that rodent red, he gazed at you with so much love you felt as if you could just die of love for him. 

You steadied your breath and brought a hand up to cup his cheek, wiping away any remnant of his tears before answering him.

“Nothing's wrong,” You sighed, hands never once leaving his body, “I’ve just missed you so.”

Steven chuckles before kissing your cheek and you shuttered at the strange yet familiar sensation. He pulled you in closer to him, moving you to straddle his thigh that was outstretched in front of him, and pressed his cheek against yours in a movement that you hadn’t felt in so long yet remembered so well. His whiskers tickled your cheek the same way his stubble used to.

“You’re such a sweetheart. I’ve been in my lab the whole time, haven’t I?” Steven chuckled, “Where have I been to you?”

You tilted your head to kiss his cheek, not minding the gentle prodigy of his whiskers.

“I know where you’ve been,” You quickly answered, “I’ve just been busy in my own lab at the hospital.” You lied. You didn’t want to risk reminding him of who he had become. 

“The long hours, plus the strange times I have to work, have completely taken me away from you. I just miss being in your company,” You whispered.

Steven shifted you in his lap, pulling back and cupping your face with both his hands and the rubber of his gloves cooled your flushed cheeks. He peppered your face with light and innocent kisses; from your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, the space between your eyebrows, and finally one last kiss to your lips. You hummed into the kiss, one hand gripping his arm and the other trailing up to brush a few strands of hair out of his face. Eyes closed, he wiped the last of your tears from your face. 

Pulling back, Steven rested his forehead against yours and sighed.

“How did I manage to end up with such a loving spouse like you, hmm?” He questioned, eyes soft and unfocused as he looked at you with complete adoration. Your hands fall to his shoulders and you squeeze them, never wanting to let go of him again.

“No, it’s me who is lucky to have ended up with you, my beloved,” You answered in a hushed tone. You pressed your lips to his in a chaste, sweet kiss, savoring the feeling of his soft yet chapped lips against your own. 

The feeling of his body against your own was one you hadn’t felt in so long, yet it was all too familiar at the same time. Hesitantly you pulled away from him and immediately felt another wave of tears build up behind your eyes. You leaned forward and pressed your face into his neck with arms wrapped around his chest tighter than before. You tilted your face to speak into his neck,

“Please don’t leave me,” You whispered, voice small from the unshed tears that burned your face, “Not again. Not ever.” 

“Ohh, sweetheart…What has gotten into you?” Steven questioned, arms wrapped around your shaking frame, “I’d never leave you. Not now, not ever.”

You tried to wipe the tears that fell from your eyes not wanting to soil Steven’s lab coat, but you knew he never minded. He always said that he could just wash it.

Steven’s hands are gentle as they caress your body, careful not to snag his gloves on your clothes or pull your hair too hard. His touches soon falter before he pushes you away from him slightly and for a moment you’re worried that he would push you off of him altogether. 

With his hands on your shoulders and eyebrows furrowed, Steven finally takes a good look at you, his eyes trailing from your head to your feet, then back up to your face.

“Are you alright?” He asked, voice laced with worry, “You look so much thinner than I remember.” He commented. You tried to shrug off his concern, but he persisted. 

“And your eyes,” Steven began while tracing your under-eye with his thumb, “You’ve got terrible eye bags. Not that you look bad! You just seem…tired. More than usual.”

You placed your hand over top of his on your face and smiled softly, yet you knew you had to come up with a lie.

“If I’m honest, I haven’t been sleeping well lately,” You started, eyes drifting away from his own, “The long hours I’ve been putting in have made it difficult for me to rest at night. And being away from you hasn’t helped.”

You shifted under his gaze uncomfortable at the probing but still managed to finish.

“But I feel much better now that I’m with you,” You smiled, meeting his eyes again, but a frown had etched itself on his face.

“Y/N, please don’t lie to me,” Steven whispered, and you cursed yourself for having been caught, “What’s troubling you so much? Where have I been?” 

You frown yourself, gripping him harder and sniffling. You pulled his hand off your face and rested it in his lap, rubbing the tops of his hands with your thumbs. 

“You’ve just…been away,” You mutter, tears brimming in your eyes, “Away from me. I’ve missed you.”

“But where have I been?” Steven asked again.

“I-I don’t know. You’ve been here, but you just haven’t been yourself,” You answered while using your shoulder to wipe your face, “But you’re here now. You’re yourself now! I just want to stay with you…”

Steven pulled his hands from his lap and held your waist, kissing your cheek and shushing your sobs.

“I’m sorry,” He whispered against your skin, “I won’t leave you. I promise.”

You hugged him, arms wrapping your arms around his back and hooking them over his shoulders, and rested your head on his shoulder. His hands on your waist rubbed you gently and soothed the tension you hadn’t realized had settled there. You exhaled a shuddering breath before speaking up,

“I love you, Steven,” You sighed. He holds you tighter.

“I love you too, Y/N,” Steven responded.

Your right-hand falls from where it was resting and trails down his left arm to his hand. There was still something you needed to know. Slowly, Steven lets you pull the glove off his hand and it falls to the floor.

You feel a sob bubble up your throat as your eyes lay on the simple gold band nestled on his slender ring finger. You can’t help but caress the ring, relieved that he still wore it even when he wasn’t Steven. Shakily, you lifted his hand to your face and kissed his knuckles. Pulling away, you lace your fingers together and smile at him, a smile that he returns. 

Steven’s grasp on your hand falters before his arm falls limp. He looks around the room with furrowed eyebrows and gears turning in his head. 

“Why am I on the floor?” Steven asked, voice hoarse and not the same tone he had been speaking to you with. He shifted back from you and you in turn moved away from him.

“Please, just stay a little longer,” You thought, but you knew your plea would not be answered.

“And why are you sitting on me?” Steven, no, Dr. Two Brains asked, and you’re quick to pull away altogether. The doctor rubs his hand subconsciously and quickly notices his left glove is missing. He looks around panicked before finding it on the floor and swiftly pulling it on his hand and over his elbow. He rubs where his ring is under the glove and glares at you.

“What’s going on here?” Dr. Two Brains asks again, yet you couldn’t come up with a lie quick enough, “Answer me, Commander!”

“I-You fell!” You exclaimed, moving to kneel in front of him, “You fell after you called me to look at your schematics. I was just making sure you didn’t hit your head too hard is all…” Your voice trailed off as determination seemed to die down in your throat. 

Dr. Two Brains glares at you for a moment longer before his face softens, but it’s clear his suspicion remains.

“Right…” He draws out while swatting your outstretched hand away and lifting himself to his feet, “Did you look at the schematics yet?” 

“No, not yet,” You answered, dusting the dirt off your pants and fixing your coat. 

“What am I paying you for then?” Dr. Two Brains groaned while pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed shut. He opened them a moment later, sighing and looking over to the door of his office.

“And why are you guys just standing around?!” The doctor shouted, drawing your attention to the two henchmen standing in the doorframe. 

“Just how long had they been standing there?”

From the look they gave you, it was clear they had been there long enough.

“Sorry, Boss. We’ll get right back to work,” Meatloaf said before motioning for Charlie to follow him. They glanced at you one last time before disappearing somewhere in the lair. 

Dr. Two Brains turned back to you and just as he opened his mouth to say something he cut himself off, unsure.

“Are you crying?” Dr. Two Brains asked. 

“Were you crying?” You thought as your eyelids fluttered and you tapped your undereye with your fingertip, immediately noting the moisture there. 

“Uh-” You stutter, unsure of how to answer him. You felt that an affirmative ‘yes’ would make things more awkward than it already was.

“Oh, geez. I didn’t think I was that harsh,” Dr. Two Brains said quietly, rubbing the back of his neck, “Was I?” 

“No-” You clear your throat while trying to quickly dispel the discomfort that had gathered between you two, “It’s nothing. Just…allergies!” 

You scrubbed the tears from your eyes roughly and stood up straight, yet Dr. Two Brains was still cautious.

“Um, alright,” He muttered, “Just look over the schematics when you can.” He gestured to his desk before sitting down himself. You’re quick to pick up the offending schematics and scurry out of his office with a teary-eyed smile.

His gaze lingers on you a moment longer than it should have, his hand subconsciously coming up to caress the golden band on his left hand.

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

You found yourself on the upper side of the lair on a “balcony” of sorts, schematics long discarded on a table in the main room. You’d look later. You pull the cigarette from your lips in your left hand, exhaling that smoke in one big sigh. 

Bad habit, you know. But sometimes you just want to forget the same way he does.

You hear footsteps approaching you on your left and aren’t surprised to see Charlie and Meatloaf peering up at you, unsure if they were allowed up there with you. With a sigh, you motioned for them to join you. They climb up and rest on the railing on either side of you. Meatloaf clears his throat as you take another drag from your cigarette.

“Sooo…” Meatloaf begins, dragging out his single word.

“Sooo…” You copy, not looking over at him.

“You and the Boss are a thing?” He asked, looking at your face for an answer. You frown and drop your cigarette on the ground, stomping out the few burning embers. 

“Do you two know my name?” You ask, fingers playing with your glove on your left hand.

“No, the Boss just calls you our commander. He never told us your name,” Meatloaf explains. Your eyes remain down as you take a step back from the railing and pull off your glove. You hold up your left hand for them to see the gold band that rests on your ring finger.

“I’m Dr. Y/N Boxleitner,” You said, dropping your hand back down to your waist and placing your glove back on, “Steven is my husband.”

Charlie’s mouth is agape as Meatloaf stutters out a few incoherent words before taking a deep breath and trying again.

“You’re Dr. Two Brains’ spouse?! I had no idea he was married!” Meatloaf exclaimed, and you chuckled bitterly.

“Yeah, he seems to forget that too,” Meatloaf is silent and Charlie places a hand on your shoulder, forcing you to look up at them.

“We noticed…” Meatloaf whispered, trying his best to be comforting. Meatloaf rubbed your other shoulder and looked over to you in concern. 

“We’re sorry about what you have to go through. While Charlie and me don’t know much, we can’t imagine how hard it is for you,” Charlie shook his head affirmatively as Meatloaf spoke. You place your hands on theirs and sighed.

“Thanks…” You muttered out quietly, “It really is hard. After the accident, I thought Steven was dead until I saw the news broadcast about him.” Charlie and Meatloaf nod as you continue.

“In a way, he sort of is. He doesn’t even remember me most of the time,” You lean forward and press your face into your hands, elbows resting on the guardrail, “Everytime he forgets…It’s like losing him over and over again.” 

The tears finally fell freely down your face and the two henchmen looked at each other panicking, not knowing what to do to comfort you. They let you cry while rubbing your back and Charlie offered you a tissue when most of your crying was done.

“Thank you…” You sniffled before wiping your face and blowing your nose.

“Does the Boss really not recognize you?” Meatloaf asked hesitantly. You shook your head.

“Most times, no,” You answered, shoulders slumped and legs tired, “But I took that vow, ‘In sickness and in health.’ How funny…”

The henchmen are silent.

“I mean, really. What horrible act did I commit to deserve this outcome?” The tears were back with a vengeance and you rubbed your eyes extra hard to rid yourself of them, ignoring the sharp sting of your lab coat rubbing your delicate skin so rough, “It’s n-not fair. I’ve don’t nothing but love Steven with all my heart, and when he looks at me-”

You cut yourself off with a sharp inhale, suddenly unable to breath properly.

“He doesn’t even remember me!” You shouted, banging your fists on the railing and noting the small dents in the metal, “It hurts…More than anything, it hurts so bad.”

The henchmen stayed with you for the rest of the night, even helping you cook dinner and having a small sleepover that Dr. Two Brains wasn’t a part of. You looked absolutely tired when the three of you sat down to watch a movie and you ended up only making it half way through it before you were out like a light. The two covered you with a discarded, mostly clean towel that was lying around -- it was the closest to a proper blanket -- before leaving the lair for the night. Charlie glanced at your sleeping form one last time, sympathy for you overflowing, before Meatloaf called him over to the truck.

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

Less than an hour later, Dr. Two Brains made his way into the main part of the lair, finding you passed out on the couch. As he approached, he pulled the towel off of you with a disgusted sneer and immediately noted the smell of cigarettes on you. It was faint even for the mouse nose, but it was definitely cigarettes he was smelling.

Dr. Two Brains grumbled to himself about forcing you to quit while grabbing a proper blanket and pillow from the storage area of the lair. He came back and covered your now shivering body with the thick comforter. There were a few holes in it and it smelled a little funky, but it was better than the damn towel that’s for sure. 

Ever so gently, Dr. Two Brains lifts your head and squeezes the pillow underneath it before dropping you back down. He watched you turn your head in your sleep and sigh. 

The Doctor felt odd as he stared at your face, subconsciously tucking a loose strand of hair out of the way. 

But the longer he looked at you the more you reminded him of his own spouse...

He always did wonder where they went after his accident.

[distant-velleity]

60, 75 and 85 for Chrytiago and Azul and Davis teeheee

Are they willing to show PDA? If not, is there a reason?

santiago is probably the only one here very willing to do so, and even he has anxiety, because these are all characters who are in some way or another worried about public perception. chrysos for his part doesn't want what he has with santiago to possibly be taken away from him, so while he gladly accepts santiago's affection in public, he doesn't reciprocate unless they're in private.

and i think azul and davis would also keep it lowkey. i mean it would be OBVIOUS but davis is a bit shy when it comes to romance and ... okay azul can be dramatic af so i respect that but he also is a student at a school so he probably keeps it subtle most of the time.

basically both pairings would probably be more affectionate when there's no eyes on them lol

Which - if any - other famous ship's vibes do they emulate?

ok ill admit ive been in very few fandoms so ill just use the iconic ships from there

chrytiago - haikaveh (one is more outwardly stoic than the other), also lowkey it's giving adeuce

azudavi - saiouma if it was a ship i could actually tolerate, honestly i can't think of anything else off the top of my head

Their S/O is tipsy. How do they handle it?

im gonna assume theyre older/of drinking age for this OR they got drunk at a party like dumb teens lol

chrysos is flustered and very insistently telling a tipsy santiago to keep it down bc santiago wont stop going on about how PRETTY his boyfriend is and how SKILLED and AMAZING and HARDWORKING he is and how much he likes him. eventually chrysos just resigns himself to listening to the adorable babbling and also getting a lot of kisses all over the face, but if anyone looks at them weird they're getting a death glare

santiago probably didn't realize how physically clingy chrysos could be until the mer finally started to get tipsy after a surprisingly large amount of shots--now he has one very pouty boyfriend who can be found either latching around his waist from behind in a tight hug, or holding onto his arm and leaning his head on his shoulder, or intertwining their fingers , at any given moment. not that santiago minds, since physical affection is also his love language~ he'll just humor drunk chrysos

when davis gets tipsy, his inhibitions are GONE, so he can shamelessly say the things he wants to azul--why do you think he got the nickname the walking mouth? he's good with his words... or should be lol. azul has to deal with being flirted with, and it's actually good flirting despite davis' awful alcohol tolerance, so i think azul might just have to suffer all night until davis finally falls asleep LMAOO (on the bright side, davis will be so embarrassed when he's sober and azul will have so much dirt on him)

i think like chrysos, azul would also be a bit of a clingy drunk bc -gestures at the whole being an octopus and having tentacles thing and also both of them being naturally possessive- but compared to chrysos, azul is way more... i imagine he'd be saying the sweetest genuine things ever in direct contrast to his smug businessman facade haha? and so davis has to pretend he doesn't feel his face going red as his mer bf leans on him or drapes his arms around his shoulders ......

[defensivelee]

having a fucking moment out here tonight so heres a rant uncalled for

tw for csa and maybe internalized aphobia? idfk

and ig I talk about six lives a bit so there's that

it's such a weird experience being aroace and a csa survivor... like I know there is an automatic revulsion to anything sexual irl (in fiction I am obv more than ok with it) but I don't know where that's from

I think on occasion that the reason there's such a strong aversion is bc of the csa. it definitely fucks with me in multiple ways but that is one thing that I REALLY don't like to think about, that I'm aspec bc of that. for me that is something I don't want to be. there's always talk about how ace people just have sexual trauma, and yeah a lot of people do and are ace. it's valid asf for them but for me I just shy away from the explanation. it feels like I'm enforcing a stereotype, and I KNOW that's bad thinking and I'm trying to shake myself off of it but it's where my head ends up anyway. I constantly... without any words rlly... apologize to myself for this. I don't want to ever have to explain me being aspec, and that includes to myself.

writing William in six lives has weirdly helped with that, tbh he's helped with a ton. but this kind of puts all my issues in someone else and I can view this in an almost detached manner. he's ace, also a csa survivor, but what I really enjoy seeing is that despite this he can still fuck. I wanted him to be someone who simultaneously cares too much and yet too little about sex with other people. I think his whole careless-yet-cautious attitude about it is smth I wish I had, which tbh isn't great... he brushes it off for himself and yet cannot stand it in the moment. the main thing I think I like is that he can still do it at all, that despite everything he's not completely 'ruined,' a bit of an awful mindset in his especially aphobic society. I can't even have that.... and again, this is just me being fucking awful to myself, I love all aspecs

I just hate the idea that what happened to me impacted me like that, forever. I don't want to give my abuser any kind of power and it feels like this is what's happening. but I think ultimately (and very often in times like these).... I would have been aspec either way. being ace just feels so right. for ME, at least, I know it wouldn't feel that way if my experiences caused that

it's something William struggles with too. he's not at all certain why he's 'broken'... in fact, in this society, being ace isn't really a well known thing and sex is like. rlly important to them. and this just further convinces him that the csa is the prime reason, everybody else fucks and is happy and feels attraction, and like me he hates that idea. that the man who hurt him then is still ruining his life now. and even more so bc he also feels that this is just who he is, no one else had a say. but someone did and it's not fucking fair

I like to see this conflict in him, it's very cathartic for me to see it spelled out, and more importantly validating bc he just wants to be happy in that identity, like I want to be and for the most part usually am. I feel how angry he is, but for this righteously so and I write with that anger

he also would have been ace either way. bc of this society's refusal to address this tho it might take him a while to realize that this is him and he's not broken and he's fine.

maybe one day I'll write this realization bc just thinking about it makes me cry happy tears

[pinkglossie-blog]

There is so much I’ve always wanted to share with you, so many thoughts and emotions I’ve kept buried deep inside. But expressing my feelings has never been my strong suit, and even now, I often find myself hesitating, overthinking, and questioning everything. Have I made the right choice? Are you truly the person I can entrust with my heart, my dreams, and my future? Doubts linger in my mind, and countless reasons make me pause, analyzing every step before I take it.

Everything I’ve accomplished so far, all the milestones I’ve reached, and everything I have in life has been the result of my own perseverance and hard work. For so long, I’ve focused on guarding myself, convinced that in this world, I could only ever truly rely on myself. But when I’m with you, all those fears and uncertainties fade away. The walls I’ve built around my heart seem to crumble, and for the first time, I find myself surrendering. My cautious mind takes a backseat, allowing my heart to take the lead.

I’ve told myself countless times that being with you might mean losing a part of the person I’ve spent years shaping. Yet, no matter how often I try to reason with myself, my heart always wins. To be honest, it still feels surreal that we’ve made it this far together. I often find myself in awe, wondering how someone like you — so different, yet so understanding — has chosen to stay by my side despite all my imperfections.

You’re more than just a partner to me, you’ve become my reason to embrace life in ways I never thought possible. Without even realizing it, you’ve encouraged me to step beyond the confines of my comfort zone. For the longest time, I was a quiet and shy girl, more comfortable in silence than action. I was aware of my potential, yet I held myself back, too afraid to face the world outside.

Growing up, I often felt voiceless, as though my opinions didn’t matter and my choices were limited. My dreams felt like distant whispers because I didn’t know where to begin or how to make them come true. But then you came into my life, and everything began to shift. You gave me clarity and courage, a reason to believe in myself. Now, when I achieve something, my first thought is of you — of how proud you’ll be, how your smile will light up when I tell you.

Your belief in me, your unwavering support, and your endless encouragement have become my greatest motivations. You’ve made me want to break free from the limits I once placed on myself. And now, I can’t help but wonder are you the answer I’ve been searching for all along?

This year feels like a turning point, a breakthrough I’ve waited for my entire life. And it’s all because of you — because I have someone like you to walk beside me, to guide me, and to share this journey with. What I feel for you isn’t just happiness, it’s an overwhelming sense of gratitude. You’ve brought color into a life I once thought was dull and gray. You’ve given me hope, and for that, I will always be thankful.

At the same time, I hope that your life has improved since we’ve been together. I know how much you’ve endured, how much weight you’ve carried in silence. Society often expects men to be unshakably strong, offering little acknowledgment of their struggles and pain. But with me, I want you to feel safe to be your truest self — free, unguarded, and unafraid.

There’s a lyric that resonates deeply with me “There is no fear now, let go and just be free.” That’s exactly how I want us to be — a partnership where neither of us has to bear our burdens alone, where we find strength in one another, and where we can dream of a brighter tomorrow together.

Let’s create a world of our own — a place where happiness takes center stage, where love is a source of endless strength, and where we can achieve all the dreams we once thought were impossible. You’ve shown me that love isn’t a weakness, it’s the greatest power there is, and for that, I will forever be grateful.

This year marks an important milestone in your life — you’ve turned 20, stepping into a new chapter not just as a boy but as a man. I earnestly pray to God to bless every path you choose and to make your journey smooth and fulfilling. As my man, my partner, and my heart, I wish for nothing but happiness to fill your life starting now and forever.

I truly believe in your ability to achieve every goal you set for yourself, and I can’t wait to see you succeed. More than anything, I hope to be by your side for every step of your journey. May the universe conspire to bring only good things into your life, surrounding you with positivity and shielding you from harm.

I want nothing more than to see you thrive, to watch you become the best version of yourself, and to witness all your dreams coming true. May the future ahead of you be brighter and more beautiful than you could ever imagine. You deserve nothing less.

Thank you for being such a kind and loving man — not just to me, but to your family and everyone around you. I’m incredibly proud of you and feel so lucky to be the girl you love. You are a blessing in my life, and I hope you know how much you mean to me.

If I were to be born again in another life, my only wish would be to still be the girl you cherish and love. Thank you for taking such good care of me, for supporting my choices, and for being my unwavering source of strength.

I pray that all the kindness you’ve shown to others comes back to you a thousandfold. May every wound you’ve ever endured be replaced with the most beautiful blessings this world has to offer.

Happy birthday, my love. I love you deeply, endlessly, and with all my heart.

[gibbearish]

like. here's the thing, there was this lady at my last job named Cindy. early 50s probably, very sweet and well meaning but, yknow, kinda a clueless older lady. and i started t shortly before starting there, so she was well aware i was trans/queer, or as aware as she could be. but again, she was well meaning, so she saw masculine clothes, short hair, ratty little beard, and deep voice and went "yep, that's a dude". and you might say "well that's not necessarily well meaning, she just might not have remembered you beforehand," which i think is probably also true, however the key here is that the woman who sat next to her, Carrie, was in the exact same situation, and would still exclusively she/her me. like, they would have entire conversations about me bouncing back and forth, not correcting each other or being confused but just. each using different pronouns for me. so she knew that other people still saw me as female and just Didnt Care.

so how does this relate to anything? well, one day Cindy and i were chatting in the breakroom, and she asked if we went to chik fil a a lot since our new house was really close to it and its SOOOOOOO good. i said no, she saw the face i made and asked why not, i explained that they dont like people like me, and she goes "oh! well fuck that, who cares if they don't like you, you deserve good chicken!!!" and im like. aw lol thanks cindy but what i mean by that is that they donate a lot of their proceeds to /actively hurting/ people like me. and she goes "....oh. ......... well FUCK them then, im never eating there again!!! thats so fucked up!!! they dont deserve my money to use for things like that!!!!"

this lady with literally 0 skin in the game of queer rights was more than willing to immediately drop this place because she cared more about Not contributing to innocent people getting hurt than she did about Getting to have some specific chicken.

no one is saying youre not allowed to like the chicken or the wizards or to dislike rap. all anyone is saying is that if you care more about getting to do that without anyone being upset about it than you do about . like. the reasons people are upset, that says something about you and your motivations for engaging with that thing the way that you do.

liking harry potter doesnt automatically make a person transphobic, but you may have transphobia you havent worked through that you are expressing via holding on to that property so hard despite the harm you know it causes and the fact that it will make trans people around you uncomfortable. if every time someone brings this up, you immediately go "so i can't do this anymore without being a transphobe?", you are being defensive because you know on some level that yes, you cannot continue engaging with it the way you have with being transphobic, because the way you are engaging with it /is an expression/ of transphobia, not the other way around. and this, too, you know.

someone who dislikes rap for genuine non-racist reasons will, when this subject is brought up, assess their personal reasons for disliking it, conclude "well it doesn't seem to be motivated by that but i'll keep an eye out," and move on with their day. someone who dislikes it for racist reasons will get defensive, because to assess their personal reasons they would have to confront the fact that that is indeed where that's coming from, and that makes them uncomfortable.

part of learning to grow and change as an adult is learning to sit in that discomfort. shying away from it will always be your first instinct, you don't want to be a bad person and so you don't want to admit you could have done something you consider bad.

you will always be doing things you consider bad. no one can stick 100% to their personal moral code, we all bend our own rules from time to time. id bet some of us even have rules for when we can bend the rules. so if you want to be able to actually change and become better, you have to be able to look those times in the eye and assess them fairly. it will feel bad. it will feel like youre wading through an extremely fast river trying to get there and it will take a lot of practice. but it does get easier, and eventually that feeling of wrongness stops feeling wrong at all. it just becomes a warning light in your mind that you should stop and think a little harder about what youre saying.

anyways. just. in general, keep an eye out for when you feel yourself getting defensive, and instead of pulling away from the thing making you feel like that, see if you can take a moment to unwrap it and see what's really inside. it's a lot easier to make it go away then.

at this point any time someones throwing a fit abt "oh so its transphobic to still like harry potter / homiphobic to still like chik fil a / racist not to like rap??" its just like. no, not automatically, but given that everyone who talks about this has fully explained that part and you're still this defensive over it anyways, for you specifically the answer is yes.

[of-many-fandomss]

Hiii again! Can I please request a Valentine’s request, Pietro Maximoff x fem!reader where Y/n and Pietro are bf and gf and Pietro takes her out on a sweet, romantic date night?🥺 Y/n is super shy and Pietro is super flirty, making Y/n very flustered 🥺🥺 Lots of sweet kisses and hugs? Also Y/n being Wanda’s best friend?

Ahh yess pietro!! Bonus best friend wanda?? I lovee

—————

“This place is really fancy,” You gaped in awe, lips parted slightly as you looked around the restaurant in wonder.

Your boyfriend smirked, placing a tender kiss on your cheek before pulling a chair out for you to sit in, “Only the best for my beautiful girlfriend.” Pietro said as he walked over and took a seat opposite from you.

Right as he said the words, you felt your cheeks turn red and you bit down on your bottom lip, letting your hair fall in front of your face to keep the small smile out of view, “Thank you,” You mumbled.

Still, after all this time of dating him, you weren’t used to the showers of compliments he gave you daily. And they didn’t stop in public. If anything, he made even more of them. Always letting you know how amazing you looked and how much he loved you.

He rested his head in his hands and looked at you with a dreamy sigh, “Have I told you how lovely you looked tonight?” He asked.

You giggled at his antics, “Yes,” You informed him, “At least five times.”

“Well, five doesn’t seem to do nearly enough justice for how that dress looks on you, darling.” His eyes raked up and down your body as he spoke, and your cheeks heated up even more.

Wanda, your best friend and Pietro’s sister, had helped you pick it out. The two of them had worked together to make this whole Valentines night a special surprise for you, meaning the woman did everything from choosing your dress, to helping you with your hair and makeup.

Despite your efforts, you couldn’t fully push away the smile that had crawled its way onto your face. So instead, you looked down at your menu in hopes of distracting yourself.

And it seemed to work, because a frown replaced your smile as your eyes scanned back and forth, “Are you sure this place isn’t too expensive?” You asked nervously.

Pietro waved you off, “Not at all.” He glanced up over his menu at your “And even if it was, it wouldn’t matter.” He said firmly.

His words never failed to make you melt into a puddle.

You fell silent, pondering over what you should get to eat.

“What are you thinking about, my love?” He asked after a moment of silence, gently taking your hand in his own and placing a soft kiss to the back of it.

He never could go long without one of you speaking to one another. That was the main reason you almost never fought, he physically couldn’t bear it.

“Just about how handsome you are,” The words slipped from your lips before you even had a chance to think about them, and your eyes widened as soon as they did.

Pietro paused for a moment before letting out a loud laugh, throwing his head back and letting his eyes crinkle in amusement. He was always the one to flirt with you, not the other way around. And it was different for you to do so, new. He loved it.

Your boyfriend kissed your hand once more, staring adoringly into your eyes all the while, not once looking away.

“Happy Valentines Day, my love.” He grinned widely.

“Happy Valentines Day.” You echoed, biting down on your bottom lip with a smile.

[minniepetals]

pretty pretty pretty please say there’s a 4 to the e2l 😭😭😭

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12 / part 13 / part 14 / part 15 / part 16

“Y/N, my sweet, sweet Y/N.”

Your face contours with disgust when your previously soon-to-be fiance steps up before you, his form and figure clearly indicating that he’s already drunk.

This is why you don’t enjoy attending parties. Somehow in some way, you always manage to attract the drunkards. You guess part of the reason is because some are too afraid and shy to approach you sober while the rest, like this man right here, are simply to shameless to even care.

“Get off me.” You push him away, taking a few steps back from him.

He pouts. “Aw, don’t be like that. We were supposed to be betrothed to one another.” He flings his body at you once again, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you in close. You tilt your head back from him, hating the stench of alcohol reeking from him. “Why did you reject me? You ran away the day our engagement was supposed to be finalized. How could you?”

“Ah, about that. I got kidnapped.”

“What?!” God his voice irritates you. “Who dares to touch my precious Y/N?!”

“It’s fine. As you can see, I’m good now.”

“Oh, my Y/N. If I knew you had gotten kidnapped, I would have done all that I can to be your knight in shinning armor and rescue you.”

You want to gag at the thought. “I don’t need a knight in—”

“But still. Just because you got kidnapped doesn’t make it right for you to reject my proposal. Don’t you realize you marrying me will only benefit you?”

Why is it that men always think the women are helpless without their efforts? He sees you as a damsel in distress, helpless, bitter, and cold without him, as if your life’s purpose is to cry for his help and he’ll be the one to run on over to carry you off into the sunset and live happily ever after.

You sigh. “Someone else proposed to me. Someone more beneficial for my family.”

“Who?!” You don’t know whether he’s jealous or it’s his inferiority complex. Perhaps both. “Who dares to propose to you when you were meant to be my wife?!”

“Me,” a voice is heard right next to his ears, causing the man to jump with surprise at the sudden approach.

“K-Kim Seokjin?”

Bangtan’s second-in-command. Namjoon’s right hand man.

“So if you could not touch my woman, that would be splendid,” he says, holding onto a tight smile as he cuts in between the two of you, placing his palm against the man’s chest and forcing him off you.

Finally you can breathe.

Seokjin wraps his arm around your shoulder after forcing the man off, standing tall and protective over you as he looks down at him with a smile that can kill even the most vicious prey. “Scram away now, will you?”

Such words spoken so simply yet held with such a heavy indication that something will happen to him were he to not listen to his commands. Your previously betrothed man hurries off without another word because despite his drunken state, even he knows not to mess around when it comes to Bangtan.

Only you have ever come close to them while playing cat and mouse.

They’ve only ever allowed you to come close.

“Your woman, huh?” You narrow your eyes slightly with an amused grin. “I don’t recall ever accepting that proposal of Namjoon’s.”

“Oh please,” Seokjin laughs lightly, tension leaving his face now that you’re the only one he’s facing, “I already know it won’t take long for you to cave in.”

“Just two weeks ago, you had your knife ready to cut my throat. Now here you are, such protective arms holding onto me,” you say, staring at his hand which has yet to let you go. “Is that possessiveness I sense in your eyes?”

“You’re seeing things,” he shrugs.

A small chuckle leaves your lips as you free yourself from his arms. “The way I see it, it seems the seven of you are having a harder time with me having yet to accept the proposal. Who will be the one to cave in first, hm?”

You walk away with a playful smirk flashing his way, and Seokjin stands there for some time, knowing just how right you are.

“Why is it that she always gets the upper hand?” He hears Taehyung ask when the younger man walks up beside him.

They simply stand there watching you roam around the room, an elegant smile resting on your face and they wish that smile could be reserved for them alone.

But unfortunately you aren’t theirs. Not yet.

[batwritings]

Heyo! This is the first time ever requesting something, but I've had Blaze Hybrid! Sapnap on the brain. So, I've had the thought that sapnap being affectionate and loving to take showers w/ his S/O, but he never joins them because he knows he'd get flustered and accidentally heat up the water. After that I have no clue what would happen. you could make it spicy or fluffy, either are good.

Welcome friend! And listen, Blazeborn Sap is an excellent brainrot to have. :) Enjoy~!

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

You were a little unsure about entering a more intimate relationship with Sapnap at first. His fiery persona and brash nature seemed like a lot to handle at first glance. That is, until you figured out that he's basically a glorified puppy dog.

He'd follow you just about anywhere you asked him to, do just about anything you asked, and the best part? Portable, living heater for a boyfriend! You really couldn't ask for more. You noticed, however, that there was one spot he wouldn't dare follow you to; the shower.

At first you thought he was shy, which was honestly rather funny. Your cocky, surefire boyfriend who would boast about you to anyone who would listen, was nervous about showering with you. Now that was certainly a good laugh. Sadly, he was quick to dismiss that despite the huge blush on his cheeks.

"I just..." Sapnap sighed, his words trailing off as he tried in desperation to figure out how he wanted to explain himself. You could practically see the steam rise from his head as he pondered how to convey why it was that he never took showers with you, despite having expressed wanting to. "I might heat up the water too much. It-it's a blaze thing."

You chuckled softly, knowing how much of a lie part of that explanation was. You'd seen Sapnap hop into the water after Dream with ZERO hesitation and not once did you see the ocean bubble beneath his burning skin. You knew how to get under his skin however, you weren't that dumb.

"It's okay Sappy," you cooed, stroking his cheek. He leaned into your touch, absolutely putty in your hands. "I can always find another shower buddy next time I need a hand with washing my back yeah?"

There it was, right on cue; the burning intense jealous in his flame-like eyes. "What?!" Sapnap screeched, and you swore you saw sparks burst from his skin. "Oh hell no." With an intense hold on your wrist, your Blazeborn partner nearly drug you all the way home.

He nudged you into the bathroom, trying to be gentle despite his jealous rage. You smirked out of his view, quickly taking lead of the situation and undressing. You turned the water on as hot as you could handle and slipped into the shower, waiting for Sapnap to join you. You could see his hesitancy through the quickly fogging glass, but eventually, you had him in the shower with you.

Immediately bright eyes roamed your nude form as heat rose in his cheeks. Now you knew the real reason Sapnap refused to join you in the shower. "See something you like panda bear?" you chuckled, hoping to get a rise out of him. The blaze hybrid just stood dumbfounded, completely in awe of you.

So in awe, in fact, that it came to a shock to the both of you when the water hit you and pain blossomed across your skin. You pulled yourself away from the spray with a yelp as Sapnap snapped to attention. "Sorry!" he squeaked. "This is why I didn't want to--"

Just as he went to excuse himself, you grabbed Sapnap by the arm. "Stay," you told him. "I'll adjust." Worry coated his face but he remained as you asked. Slowly, he embraced you, letting your skin adjust to the extreme heat. It burned, borderline becoming painful, but something about knowing it was from him made it worth it.

You talked to him quietly, just enjoying the peace, the presence of him. You got him to help you clean up, even going as far as to return the favor. He was once again putty in your hands as you scratched at his scalp, clearing the shampoo away.

You knew his secret now, something you weren't sure he had been ready to admit, but wow was it worth it for the little moments like this.

[ghoulgirlwrites]

I’d Encourage Your Smiles

Pairing: Gerard Way x Reader

Era: The Black Parade

Requested by: Anon

Word Count: ~1300

Summary/Request: I come here humbly with a request! How about reader is a journalist who has to interview Gerard and she’s kinda nervous but then they really ✨vibe✨ and all these poor people who are there witnessing the interview just get to watch them have a whole meet cute 

A/N: Meant to post this DAYS ago, but here it is! Hope you enjoy ;)

--

You’d been working for Alternative Press magazine for a while, slowly working your way up from doing small features with lesser known bands and now, your hard work was finally being rewarded: you’d been offered the chance to interview My Chemical Romance. Even better, the interview was going to be recorded on video and posted to AP’s website. You’d listened to MyChem since right before Revenge came out and they’d been part of the reason you took an internship at AP, which led to your current job.

“You gonna pass out when Gerard Way gets here, or what?” Asked Jeremy, one of your coworkers.

You shoved him. “Shut up. I’m gonna be professional. You know how big of a deal this is to me.”

He chuckled. “I know. You’re gonna kill it.”

You grinned at him. “Thanks, J.”

You were just setting up the camera in your office so that it was angled perfectly at the couch, when there was a knock on the door.

“Come in!” You called.

Marc, your boss, poked his head in.

“My Chemical Romance are here to see you,” he said.

“Thanks, Marc, I’ll be right out,” you said.

You smoothed your hand over your hair and glanced down at your shirt to make sure there were no stains. Satisfied with what you could see of your appearance, you headed out into the lobby.

Four of the five members of MyChem were standing around, talking amongst themselves. They looked your way when you walked towards them. All of them smiled, except Gerard, who was looking at you with wonder. Your chest fluttered, hoping he liked what he saw. You sure did. He’d recently dyed his hair white blonde and cut most of it in preparation for the new album cycle and you couldn’t deny how much it suited him. Then you kicked yourself. He was here for an interview, it was part of his job. He didn’t want some unprofessional interviewer who flirted with him. Plus you knew how bad that would make you look.

You cleared your throat. “Hi there.”

The five of you exchanged handshakes and you wondered whether you imagined Gerard holding onto your hand a little longer than necessary. You couldn’t deny how nice his hand felt in yours and there was a part of you that didn't want the moment to end.

“Bob couldn’t make it, he’s sick,” Frank said, shrugging as if to say ‘what can ya do?’

“Aw, that’s too bad,” you said. Gerard was still gazing at you as if you were the most interesting person he’d ever seen. Mikey elbowed him and he coughed once, looking away from you. You hated to admit that you already missed the feeling of his bright hazel eyes on you.

“I set everything up in my office, so if you’ll follow me, we can get started,” you said, congratulating yourself for keeping your voice steady, despite how much your heart was pounding.

They all nodded and walked behind you as you led the way to your office. They all squeezed together on the white leather couch while you pulled up your office chair to sit close enough to them that you’d still be in the shot.

“Are you guys ready?” You asked. They all nodded. “Great!” You started the camera and then smiled and waved. “What’s up AP.com, this is Y/N Y/L/N. I’m hanging out in the office with My Chemical Romance, who are here to talk about their newest album, The Black Parade. You turned to them. “So I’m sure everyone knows your names already, but for the people just tuning into your band, can each of you go around and say your name and what you do in the band?”

Ray, Mikey, and Frank looked at Gerard, assuming he’d go first, but he was staring at you again. Was he into you or was he just camera shy?

Frank rolled his eyes from next to Gerard. “The weirdo next to me is Gerard Way, he sings. I’m Frank Iero and I play guitar and scream.” Frank glanced at Gerard, as if to say, ‘what the fuck is wrong with you?’ and Gerard shook his head, as if he were shaking water out of his ears.

“I’m Mikey Way, I play bass,” Mikey said.

“And I’m Ray Toro and I play guitar,” Ray said.

“Nice,” you said, then kicked yourself for how stupid that sounded. “So tell us about the concept for your new album.”

“Of course,” Gerard said, nodding. “Well, it’s sort of based on the idea that death comes to you however you want it to. So it centers around this guy, The Patient, who is dying of cancer and his strongest memory from childhood is when his father took him to see a marching band, so that’s how death comes for him.”

“That sounds amazing,” you said. You’d been planning on saying that anyway, since you couldn’t very well say it sucked, but hearing this unique concept and watching Gerard’s eyes light up when he spoke about it totally won you over.

Gerard smiled, his cheeks turning pink. “Thank you. We’re all really excited to start touring on it and promoting it. I think the title track’s going to become a staple for us.”

“I think so too,” you said, smiling at him and leaning forward slightly to brace your elbows on your thighs.

You asked a few other questions, but everything blurred and you hoped the interview was going well and you weren’t blowing your big shot. All you could focus on was the way Gerard was looking at you. It felt like you were the only two people in the room.

“So, my next question might cause some arguments,” you said, giving them a sly smile. “It might even break up the band.”

Their eyes widened and they chuckled.

“Can’t be worse than all the questions about what turns us on,” Ray said.

Gerard made a choking sound in the back of his throat, his wide hazel eyes boring into the side of Ray’s face.

“It’s not that,” you promised. “But I’m curious, who is the most annoying to live with on tour?”

They all began talking over each other and bickering and laughing, until Frank raised his hand.

You laughed. “Yes, Frank?”

“Me first,” he said. “So Gerard and Mikey don’t like to shower and they have stinky pits.”

“Oh yeah? Well, Frank’s always climbing into people’s bunks uninvited,” Gerard said.

“I get lonely!” Frank cried.

“I’d just like to say that I’m the least annoying out of all of us,” Ray said.

“And Bob’s not even here to defend himself,” Mikey said.

“Screw Bob, he’s the most annoying!” Frank cried.

You laughed. “Okay, okay, so the consensus is Bob’s the most annoying?”

“Yeah, he is. Annoying little man from Chicago,” Frank grumbled.

“Little?” Ray scoffed. “You’re like half his size!”

“Yes, but I make up for it in looks,” Frank said, puffing out his chest.

“Gerard,” you said, turning to him. He turned his hazel eyed gaze to you. “You haven’t made a bid for the most annoying band member.”

“That’s because he knows he is,” Mikey said and Gerard reached over to shove him.

Soon, the interview was over and you managed to close things out in a professional, yet cool way, despite the fact that you were all too aware of the way Gerard was watching you again.

As they were walking out, Gerard wandered back to you, wringing his hands in front of him.

“Y/N?” He asked.

“Yes?” You replied.

“I uh…” He looked away to where the rest of the band were waiting. They were watching the two of you, as if expecting something. Frank made a hand motion at Gerard as if to say “go on, get on with it!”

“What is it?” You asked.

Gerard sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Listen, I know you’re at work and everything and I didn’t want to hit on you while you were doing your job, but--”

“Would you like to go out for coffee sometime?” You asked.

He blushed, grinning at you. “Wasn’t that supposed to be my line?”

“Just thought I’d put you out of your misery,” you said.

“I appreciate it.”

[jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue]

Our little love - mafia/soft Yandere au OT7 Drabble

So I might’ve started this with a little angst and really soft hints of yandere behaviour however I think I might do a part two for this with a little bit more yandere and jealousy vibes (I got ideas okay, just needed a starting point)

“Tell me why I shouldn’t put a bullet in your head little love?” Even with the gun pressed firmly against your head, the cold of the barrel threatening to do as he said, you know Yoongi won’t do it, even if you deserved it.

All seven of them stand around you, no matter which way you face you’re met with the disappointment and the consequence of your betrayal in their eyes, but you refuse to look down in shame, you deserved to feel the guilt that pumped in your veins.

“He asked you a question Y/n,” Jin doesn’t have the smile he reserves for you on his face, all their demenor’s are cold, and you are the reason why.

“You love me,” you whisper, looking Yoongi dead in the face with no fear.

“I thought you loved us too,” Namjoon steps forward, breaking the circle around you, coming close to stand next to Yoongi. He has his hands in the pockets of his black blazer, silver hair pushed back.

“Was it all a lie?” if a voice could break you it would always be Jungkook’s, he was the one it took the longest to become close to, and when you had you could see the softness in his eyes despite his career. Of course he would sound the most hurt, he trusted you the most.

Yoongi, with his unfaltering gun, was the other member of their team that took you almost as long as Jungkook to get close to. While Jungkook was just shy, Yoongi didn’t trust anyone, he pushed people away, hurt them to keep them far, you learnt that the hard way. While his eyes looked like they held no emotion in this moment, you knew better, he had shown you his soul, you could see behind the barrier of his expression.

You took his wrist into your hand and pressed the gun harder against you.

“You should shoot me,” it would be better to be dead than live without them, they would never forgive you for what you’d done. The betrayal cut too deep, these wounds wouldn’t heal.

Yoongi scoffs, but you don’t let his wrist go.

“I told you all she shouldn’t be trusted,” he says to the others. “Why would a girl like her fall for men like us?”

You can feel the pain in his words, because above all else, no matter what he says, Yoongi just wants to be loved. They all do, that’s why it was almost too easy.

“Well now we know, don’t we babe?”

“That wasn’t my intention,” you swallow the sob that threatens to rise in your throat, you hate seeing him like this, you hate that you’re the reason why they’re hurt. Every time they came home with a bullet, or a cut or wound, it would kill you inside and you realised then you were compromised.

“No your intention was to infiltrate our defenses and rat us out,” Jimin’s the one to chime in, standing next to Tae who looks at you like you’re dead to him.

“Detective L/n, did you really think we’d never find out?”

You look to your side to make sure Jimin could see the honesty in your eyes.

“It wasn’t my intention to fall for you,” you sound like you’re choking with the way you’re holding back tears, but you don’t want to cry in front of them, it would feel like giving up.

You were assigned to go undercover to infiltrate the uprising gang called BTS, they climbed the heirarchy of organised crime too quickly, too dangerously, something had to be done. You went in with every intention set to take them down until you got to know them, love them, and you knew then you couldn’t do your job. The internal battle to do what was right but felt wrong and what was wrong but felt so right was causing all your morals to be questioned.

Tae scoffs at you now, not believing a word from your mouth.

“I don’t think we should kill her Hyung,” he says to Yoongi, “she needs to feel her betrayal, it would be too easy to escape us with death.”

Namjoon hums in agreement. The cold of the gun leaves your skin and you almost feel unsteady without it. Yoongi doesn’t look at you anymore now that it’s not there, instead he takes your wrist as you previously had, and they walk you to the car. You don’t fight, or talk, or argue, or ask what they wanted to do to you.

The boys had trusted you infinitely, while others had agendas and seeked their downfall they knew you were the only one that wouldn’t betray them, how wrong they were. For your safety they kept an eye on you, when you went out one of them would follow to ensure their little love didnt get into trouble or worse, get hurt. Imagine their surprise when you walked into the police station.

You didn’t tell them you went in to hand in your notice, unable to continue with this lie, it didn’t matter, the damage was done, anything you said would be meaningless.

Your sat inbetween Jungkook and Hoseok, who still hadn’t uttered a word to you, but you could see him restraining his hurt and anger. Jin was in the drivers seat with Yoongi beside him. The others must’ve taken the other car, you don’t really acknowledge it you’re too deep in your own thoughts.

You don’t come up for air until you feel a hand soft on yours in your lap, Jungkook doesn’t look at you, just at how he’s stroking the back of your hand with his thumb comfortingly. You don’t mean for your heart to swell in your chest, pushing the tears up and out.

Jin and Yoongi don’t miss the way your bottom lip trembles in the rear view mirror, the small sniffles or the tears glistening down your face that you wipe away quickly with your other hand. Hobi puts his arm around you, still looking out the window as if you’re not there, but his actions show what they all know in their hearts; they still loved you.

“Why are you crying baby girl you’re not the one with the knife in your back,” Hobi mumbles. They think you’re scared of what they’re going to do with you now they know, but that couldn’t be further from your mind. They want to reassure you, but the words are stuck in their throats.

“You need to be punished darling, otherwise you won’t learn,” Jin can see you nodding to his words in the mirror in acceptance.

“I know.”

——————————————————————————

You expected them to put you in the cellar where they tortured their enemies, you don’t even realise you’re in the living room until you’re placed on the couch. You don’t look up until Namjoon is standing in front of you.

He traces his finger from the edge of your jaw to your chin, your eyes big on him from his soft touch. The calm should scare you, but the only anxiety you have is over whether you should hope for another chance or whether they’ll throw you onto the street when they’re done.

When a tear hits Namjoon’s hands he frowns, they didn’t expect this from you when they confronted you with what they uncovered. They expected you to reveal another face, the true colours beneath the girl they all fell hard for, kick and scream and throw insults their way over the life they had, how awful they were, how they didn’t deserve to be loved. But you kept quiet, eerily quiet, and they didn’t know what to think anymore.

Letting you leave was out of the question, whether you wanted to stay or not. Not because they were concerned that you had seen too much, they didn’t care, they couldn’t imagine their lives without you anymore. The trust might’ve faded, but their love for you was real. Yoongi might’ve created a farce with the gun to your head but it was done to see your reaction, the truth behind the last 6 months of your relationship.

They expected you to beg for your life like every other person at their mercy, but you always defied their expectations.

“You’re so quiet my love,” Namjoon says to you. “Nothing you want to say to defend yourself?”

You shake your head, no there was nothing you want to say or explain.

“Then you take your punishment without complaint?”

You nod without hesitation.

Namjoon releases a deep breath, building the nerve to do what they knew would reveal whether your feelings for then were real or a lie you fabricated for your job. But he wasn’t one to easily be vulnerable, especially not after the blow that they faced today.

Jimin can sense it, the words on their leader’s lip, and he decides to take over. Namjoon steps aside as Jimin kneels on the floor in front of you. He takes your hands that are fidgeting on your lap and place them by your side on the seat, resting the weight of his head there instead.

He hugs your lap with so much love you can’t mistake it for an illusion, he rubs his head into you as much as he can.

“Stay with us,” if his actions weren’t a shock to your system enough, his words pushed you over the edge. You look into each of their eyes and the vulnerability you had learned to recognise was there begging you to want to stay.

“But I...” you don’t know what you want to say, the beating of your own heart was overwhelming in your chest. “I- I hurt you all so much.”

Yoongi hums in agreement, stepping forward to stroke your hair back, the hurt was still there they couldn’t lie to you, but losing you would be worse.

“Do you love us?” Jungkook asks taking a seat beside you, Taehyung sits by your other side. Jimin rubs little circles into your thigh while they wait for your answer.

“So much,” you confess. “I couldn’t do it, I- I”

Your words break off in a sob, as Tae takes your hand in his and presses a kiss to the back of it, a weight lifted off his chest. Jungkook pulls you into him, arms wraps around you as you let out your cries and the man in your lap places little kisses on the expanse of your thighs. You feel overwhelmed with the love theyre displaying when you were expecting their hate.

“But I dont understand,” you cry, “why aren’t you all angry, why aren’t you yelling at me?”

“We love you too,” Jin smiles the way he only reserves for you, and you feel thankful for it.

“It doesn’t matter how you got to us dove,” Hobi comes to kneel beside Jimin, wanting to be close to you too. “If it weren’t for your job you wouldn’t have met us.”

“I don’t know about that Hobi,” Namjoon chuckles. “You were meant for us my love, we would have found you one way or another.”

“We forgive you,” Jungkook kisses your hair. “Just don’t leave us.”

“We wouldn’t let you go even if you tried,” Tae voice rumbles in, leaning his face against your neck while the youngest holds you, still latched to your hand.

“You’re ours,” Jimin’s muffled voice comes from your lap, he’s pressed his face into you.

They would never let you go, and you don’t want them to. You thought all they wanted was love, but now you think you’ve reflected your own desire into them, they just wanted you.

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Strange Things Can Happen

OC x OC, Fluff, Light Angst, Self-Doubt, Character Study

Summary: Juliana comes to understand how little she knows about the world and her companion. Turns out, it's not always a bad thing.

Tagging: @flapjacques, @ghostface001, @arcanerazil, and @everything-intertwined (Let me know if you don’t want to be tagged in the future. Totally understandable if you don’t)

For reference

A/N: I'm sorry, this really is all by brain can focus on. Please indulge me a little while longer.

Word count: 1.8K

Juliana took a careful sip of her drink as she watched Finn make his rounds about the room. 

He had finished his set and as per usual took the time to scrounge any extra coin he could from the patrons.  This took the form of charming smiles, flirtatious winks and occasionally lending an ear to anybody who cared to bend it. He was currently engaged in the latter, listening intently to an older man while occasionally scribbling something down in his journal. 

In these moments she couldn’t help but admire him. There was no performance when he wrote. Every glance and laugh was genuine as his face lit up with inspiration. It was endearing. 

The two men seemed to be finishing their conversation, the older shaking hands with the younger, parting with words she couldn’t make out.  

“Productive day?” she asked, as Finn finally made his way to their table. 

He met her with a grin. “I’d say so.” He nodded back to the bar. “Apparently he was stationed all the way to the Isles of Remora during the war. He swears up and down he spent an afternoon with a dragon after getting separated from his battalion. The way he tells it, the dragon was the perfect host, just wanted some company.”

She suppressed a smile of her own. She had been asking about the money. Of course, he was thinking about the stories.

“Should I leave you two alone then?” she asked, glancing down at the journal.  

“Jealous?” 

She gave a short laugh. “Hardly. I just hate to be a third wheel.”

“Not to worry my lady, I’m all yours for the remainder of the evening.” He then slid in beside her, tucking the journal away as he did. 

She slid over his drink in turn, each of them taking a swig as she allowed her eyes to wander the tiny inn. 

Snow drifted down past the windows, illuminated by the firelight within.  They were deep in the mountains now, slowly making their way towards Ak’Linas for no reason other than that neither of them had seen it before. 

They had decided to travel by foot rather than by airship. She had to admit there was no other way to truly appreciate the stark beauty of the East; however, the novelty of snow had run its course. She was more than grateful to have a warm room for the night with a proper bed and blankets. With any luck Finn had made enough for them to find another tomorrow.

She turned her gaze towards him, only to find him staring off into space. It was a familiar expression. No doubt the man’s story had sparked the beginnings of some new creation. 

“If you do need some time alone, I really don’t mind,” she offered. 

He blinked back to present, his dark eyes creasing in an appreciative smile. 

“Just organizing my thoughts,” he assured. 

“You think he was telling the truth?”

He considered a moment before shrugging. “No way to know for certain, but stranger things have happened. Speaking for myself, I’d like to think we live in a world where it did.”

She couldn’t bring herself to argue. Finn had shared with her a number of stories he had gathered over the years. Pages upon pages describing awe inspiring bravery and mundane serenity while never shying away from the horrors of the world. It was enough to make one believe in the gods and despise in the course of a paragraph. Despite this, he always found a way to find something hopeful to hold onto. In his world, at least, a friendly dragon could easily find a home. 

​“Do all soldiers carry such tall tales?” she asked.

“Most of them,” he admitted. “Growing up, the sailor’s quarter was full of men drafted into the King’s war. Those who came back had to find a way to understand what happened to them. Telling stories was part of it.”

She didn’t have anything to say to that. Maybe it was different for foot soldiers. Her own father rarely spoke of the war. Even her uncle kept a tight lip about those years. Of course, neither of them spoke to her about anything truly important. 

“Is that how you started writing?” she asked, instead. 

“More or less. Seemed wrong that only some court-hired historian got to dictate the nobles’ victories. It’s not like they were actually there.”

Her brows furrowed as her lips pressed into a hard line.  “Plenty of lords served on the battlefields, not to mention the king.” 

​He scoffed. “Maybe a few, but just as many were ready to sit back and point soldiers to where they wanted something killed. Who’s going to argue with a lord over credit when you’re just thankful to have all your limbs at the end of it.”

​She wanted to argue but felt herself come up short. She didn’t exactly have authority on the matter. What she learned about the war, she learned from her father and other lords who served under him; all exactly the type of people who would be willing to diminish the effort of their troops to uplift their own importance.

​She must have been silent for a long time, as Finn gave an awkward cough.

​“Sorry,” he said. “I sometimes forget who I’m talking to.”

​She shook her head. “All the more reason to tell me. I think I’m starting to understand how little I actually know.”

​A smile touched his lips. “That’s not a bad thing.”

​She couldn’t explain it, but something in his look made her feel just a little bit taller.  A warmth came into her cheeks, and she averted her gaze to her cup in hopes he wouldn’t notice.

​“So, I take it you had someone in the war,” she asked, deciding to change the subject. 

“My father,” he confirmed. “Second gunman Simon Greenwood of The Carotta.”

There was a pride in his voice that couldn’t help but make her smile. 

“Where is he now?” 

​“Back home, the Kingdom. Some old mates of his pooled their money together after the war and started a shipping company. My mum helps where she can, same with my sister and her husband.”

​“You have a sister?” she asked, but wasn’t completely surprised. It felt only natural.

​“Two,” he clarified. “Lyra is the oldest. Like I said, married, deliriously in love and has three beautiful children as a result.”

Her smile only widened at this new information. It was easy to picture him gathering a small brood in front of him, making them gasp and laugh and he told tales of his travels. 

​“Why do I have a feeling you’re their favorite uncle?” she said.  

​“Well on their mother’s side. It’s a stiff competition.”

She laughed, shaking her head. ​“And the other?”

​“Syble, second oldest,” he answered. “She’s in Tremora studying at the mage’s college. Knowing her she’ll be running the place within the year.”

​“And that makes you the baby?”

​“And the family's disappointment.” 

She frowned. He said it as a joke, but no laughter came to his eyes. Their usual spark dimmed in a way much too familiar to herself. 

​“I’m sure that’s not true,” she said.

He glanced at her in surprise, but recovered quickly. 

​“Well, maybe disappointment is a strong word,” he allowed. “More like my father is still waiting for me to settle down and get a real job.”

​“You have a real job,” she defended. “All that scribbling isn’t for nothing.”

​“It’s not exactly going to get me a home in the Enclave is it?”

Her frown only depended. None of this felt natural coming out of his mouth. She hated to think how many times he had to listen to his father or others repeat those words to him. It was enough to make her want to march back to the Kingdom and knock heads together.

“Would you even want a home in the Enclave?”

He waved her off. “That’s not the point.”

“It’s the entire point!” she snapped. “If that’s what you actually wanted, you’d be in a clerk’s office somewhere or working to become an officer or any number of things. Instead, you’re here because you want to be. Because you’d be miserable doing anything else.”

​His brows creased; his expression unreadable as he stared. He then turned his eyes to his cup, his fingers drumming the rim as if to distract himself.

“Maybe,” he murmured. 

This wasn’t right. Minutes ago he was practically glowing with the love of his craft. She hadn’t met anyone with so clear a purpose in her life. It hadn’t even occurred to her that he could doubt himself.

​“Look,” she said, gently. “I don’t say this often because I didn’t think you needed the ego boost, but you have a gift. You’re an insightful writer and an inspired musician. And maybe those skills aren’t valued the way they should be, but that doesn’t diminish them. I can’t speak for your family, but from my own experience, I can’t imagine you disappointing anyone.” 

Finn remained silent for a long time, his dark eyes peering into her as if waiting for the punchline. He could keep waiting. She meant every word.  

​He let out something between a breath and a laugh. “I think that might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

​“Just speaking the truth,” she said, plainly. 

A wide smile spread across his face. ​“Oh I like this.” He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “What else is true about me?”

​She rolled her eyes. “You can be a real horse’s ass sometimes.”

​“Clearly. What else?”

​“You’re an idiot.”

​He hummed in agreement.

​“Not to mention impulsive.”

​“I prefer the word adventurous. It’s more romantic,” he amended. 

​“You should have died over a dozen times since I’ve met you.”

​“I’m lucky.” He shrugged.

​“And now you’re making me regret saying anything.”

​“Oh now, don’t say that,” he teased. “I can tell you what’s true about you.”

 “I’ll pass.”

​“Really?” he said, as he leaned in closer. “Because I would tell you…you’re a fighter.”

​She rolled her eyes.

​“Bit hot headed.”

​She thought on it for a moment before conceding with a tilt of her head.  

​“Stubborn.”

That earned him a glare.

“Beautiful.”

“Okay, now you’re just trying to be funny.”

“Me?” he said, clutching his chest in offense.

She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Damn him. 

He knew he caught her, grinning as he moved those last few inches so there was just a breath between them. 

 “I’ll tell you one more thing I know to be absolutely true,” he said. 

“And what’s that?”

“You’ve never disappointed me either.”

She couldn’t think of a single thing to say. There was no question in her mind; he meant it. Every word. 

He raised his glass then. She joined him in a silent toast, making a promise to herself and to him. 

She wasn’t perfect. She wouldn’t even say she was good, but, in his world, she could be. It was enough to make her want to try. After all, stranger things had happened.

[disasterofastory]

Help (Ivar x Reader)

Help Ivar x Reader Warnings: smut

Somebody stole your clothes while you bathed in the river, and Ivar is the only one who can help you out.

The cold water splashes around you while you stand in the river. Small droplets dampen your hair at the nape of your neck when the waves get stronger around you. You search the land with your gaze for your clothes, but you find nothing on the grass. You hug yourself more tightly, gulping down the growing panic in your throat. The sky gets darker with every minute you spend thinking about what you should do now. You can’t go back to the village naked, but you can’t stay here either.

It is the right moment for Ivar.

He still can’t believe he agreed to his brothers’ plan.

Ubbe and Hvitserk know he has a crush on you for a long while now. They watched him watching you just enough time to have enough of his cowardice. So they made a plan. Ivar can be the hero in your eyes, and you don’t have to freeze in the cold river because of your nakedness.

Is the plan wrong?

Yes.

Ivar agreed because he is too desperate?

Yes.

You look at the bushes when you hear noises coming from the green leaves. Your heart jumps up into your throat, and for seconds you forget how to breathe. You stare at the crawling man not far from you with widened eyes. Your flesh starts to hurt from the power you squeeze your arms. For a long moment, you think about letting the waves wash you away before the brooding man notices you.

“Are you plan on dying there?” He snaps at you before you can do anything.

“I-I don’t find my clothes, my prince,” you answer. Your voice trembles from the cold and his presence.

“Come out!” He orders you still sulkily, grabbing his pelt from his shoulders.

He is lucky that the only thing you can see is his angry blue eyes and not his sweating palm or rapidly beating heart.

You make a few tentative steps to the shore, but as the water starts to lower around you, you stop. One more step and the only thing you can cover yourself is your arms around your breasts.

“Do you want it or not?” He snaps at you again when he sees your frozen form. At this point, he is more afraid of you dying from hypothermia than the fact he is alone with you.

You don’t dare to answer him, so you start to walk again, and to your surprise, he is kind enough to look down at his legs. But he is not kind enough not to sneak a peek while you are busy.

Your breasts are pushed up as you try to hide them, and he can’t help himself but follow your curves till his gaze stops between your legs. He needs every power of his to look away in time before he gets caught.

He hears your soft steps getting closer, and his outstretched arm gets lighter as you take his pelt from him.

“Thank you,” you tell him quietly, wrapping yourself into the warm fabric.

“You will stand there?” He asks you grumpily, looking up at your shy form.

Your skin heats up under his gaze, and you sit down next to him, adjusting the pelt around you.

“What happened with your clothes?” He asks as if he doesn’t know it already.

“I don’t know,” you answer, looking around once again. “I think somebody plays a prank on me.”

For a moment, when he looks at your almost blue lips, he feels guilty, but his anger soon turns to his idiot brothers and their plan to get him a woman. What did he think? Just because you are next to him almost naked, you are willing to lay with him?

“We should go back before it gets darker,” he says after a while with a disappointed sigh.

“Could we wait a little bit?” You ask him timidly, afraid of his answer. “My legs are still cold.”

“We never go home at this pace,” he says, and without thinking, he grabs your legs to put them over his lap. You squeal at the sudden move, but his warm palms feel pleasant on your cold skin. He freezes for a second when he notices what he has done. His hands tremble on your bare legs, and he has to pray to the Gods that you don’t notice his anxiousness.

“Thanks,” you tell him after a few minutes. As he focuses on your legs, you can look at him better. His hair got longer since you last talked with him a few words at the market, and his blue eyes seem softer, watching his hands on your skin.

He feels your stare on his face, and the only reason you can’t see the blush on his cheeks because of the dim light. He looks up at you suddenly, staring into your eyes. His kissable lips part when you don’t look away, and his hands go up to your knees accidentally.

“Your hands,” you start, and he is ready to take them away from you. “They feel good.”

“Oh,” he says, surprised, and you can’t help yourself but smile at his shy behavior. 

His fingers play at the curve of your knees, and soon, watching your reaction, he goes up to your inner thighs. Your breath speeds up from his warm touch, heat runs through your body, but you can’t look away from the Viking’s blue scanning eyes.

When he sees no displeasure in your face from his closeness, he gets braver. His fingers almost reach your most sensitive part, and you open your legs more without your noticing. Despite you were in the cold water not long ago, you are warm and wet under his gentle fingers.

The air leaves your mouth with a gasp when his movements get more confident as he discovers your most pleasurable parts. You grab his arm but not to push him away but to support yourself. His muscles flex under your grip. From your moves, the pelt on your shoulders opens, showing more of your body to the blue-eyed man.

He gulps down the cold air when he looks down from your neck to your hardened nipples. His lips open, imagining your soft flesh in his mouth, under his tongue.

“Lay down,” he says, helping you with the pelt so you can be comfortable.

You feel insecure as his eyes roam your nakedness. Goosebumps run over your body from the cold air and his hot gaze.

“Ivar?” You ask him after a while when he still watches you hungrily.

“Spread your legs,” he says, waking up from his awe.

He adjusts his body between your legs, moving above you to reach your breasts. His hot breath fans over your heated skin, and soon you feel his lips on your collarbone, moving down to your nipple. You moan his name when he sucks on it. Your fingers find his head, grabbing his hair at the nape of his neck.

“Stronger,” he tells you, and you pull on him harder, panting.

His kisses go down on your body, your stomach tenses with anticipation.

He grabs your thighs, placing them over his shoulder to give himself better access to your pussy. He smirks when his lips linger at your folds without touching them. His blue eyes shine with mischief, looking up at you, seeing your struggle.

“Please,” you plead breathlessly.

With a chuckle, he gives in to your will, leaning closer to lick you from down to top.

You grab the pelt under your palm, your thighs almost close with Ivar between them. He devours you. He finds every little spot to make your moans and groans louder. His grip on your flesh is bruising, and you have to watch yourself not to strangle him with your legs.

“Ivar,” you pant his name repeatedly.

His tongue finds your warmth, and he starts to move in and out of you like a madman. He has to grab your hips to keep you in place before you roll out from under him. He feels your juices on his face, and his eyes roll back from your taste. His cock is hard and leaking. He has to refrain from humping the grass.

If he comes tonight, he makes sure it will be in you.

Your voice is raspy and erratic when you moan his name one more time before you let into the pleasure. The knots in your stomach burst, vibrating through your body. You need long minutes to wake up from your dizziness. When you open your eyes again to look down on Ivar, he nibbles on your inner thighs with a smirk on his lips.

“Are you okay?” He asks you, but you know he knows the answer.

The only thing you can do is hum as an answer, sitting up slowly. As his face gets closer, your skin heats up again at the recognition: the prince ate you out even before he even kissed you.

From the shine in his eyes, you know he is thinking about the same thing. His gaze lingers on your parted lips but doesn’t lean closer to you.

“And I will do much more before I kiss you,” he promises. The smirk on his lips is constant. “Get dressed,” he nods to the pelt under you. “You come home with me.”

[robininthelabyrinth]

Prompt: WWX is one of JGS's bastard sons, raised by his mother and her husband - until they die when he's young. Then he gets taken into the Jin sect instead of the Jiang.

Right Hand Man - ao3

It was a bad day.

All the days were a little bad, but this one was especially bad.

“He’s Cangse Sanren’s child,” Jin Zixuan’s father said, tapping his fan against his palm so that he would look more like a scholar. Secretly, shamefully, Jin Zixuan thought that it didn’t really work – he just looked like one of those scoundrels that tried to pay for their meals with calligraphy instead of pennies. “Taking him in will show our strength.”

“You dare bring one of your bastard children here,” Jin Zixuan’s mother said, “and I will drown A-Xuan myself rather than let him suffer through the shame of it.”

Jin Zixuan shivered. No matter how many times he heard his mother say that in her cold and vicious voice, he never got used to it. She’d explained to him that it was the only thing that might work on his father – the fear of losing face like that, of shaming his ancestors, of cutting off his legitimate line – and she was his mother so of course Jin Zixuan believed her, but sometimes when she said it like that he thought she might really go ahead and do it.

“It’s the immortal mountain,” his father argued, ignoring the threat. “The perceived connection is only to our benefit…and anyway, he wouldn’t be legitimized or anything. Legally, his father is that Wei Changze – I could even bring the boy in as a servant if that pleased you more!”

“Nothing you say or do will ever please me,” she said, and that’s when she started throwing things and he started shouting and Jin Zixuan waited until they weren’t paying any attention to him before slipping out.

They’d make a decision one way or another.

It didn’t have anything to do with him.

-

Wei Wuxian was nominally brought in as a guest disciple, but everyone knew he was really a servant.

Jin Zixuan’s mother made sure everyone knew.

Despite this, Wei Wuxian smiled at everyone, seeming as carefree as a butterfly. It didn’t seem to bother him when he wasn’t allowed to wear sparks amidst snow, or even the usual gold of the guest disciples – Jin Zixuan’s mother said that it was better that he wear plain colors, like white or black, to represent his father and mother and show the world that he hadn’t forgotten his filial piety. It didn’t seem to bother him that he had to room with the other servants, or that he wasn’t invited to dinner at the same time as the rest of them, or that he got less training time –

Whatever it was, it didn’t bother him.

It bothered Jin Zixuan, though.

He started having the old nightmares again – the ones where his mother belatedly found out that he’d been swapped in the cradle for another bastard child of Jin Guangshan, and started treating him just the way she treated all the rest of them while praising some other boy up to the heavens – and his temperament, never considered especially good, got worse due to lack of sleep.

“Go talk to him,” Mianmian suggested. “Maybe if you see he’s reallynot bothered by it…”

“It doesn’t matter if he’s not bothered,” Jin Zixuan muttered. “It’s that I would be bothered if I were him.”

She didn’t understand, of course. Most people didn’t.

They couldn’t understand why Jin Zixuan was so bothered by the knowledge that his parents’ love was conditional on his bloodline and legitimacy – after all, he was the beneficiary of that bias, wasn’t he? What did it matter to him if they were cold to others?

Jin Zixuan didn’t know how to explain that the problem was in knowing that their love was conditional.

It didn’t help that Wei Wuxian was excelling despite all his disadvantages – all their teachers praised him in private, or else when they thought that no one surnamed Jin was listening. All of his mother’s dark speculations about what his father would do if ever there was a bastard child brought back that turned out to be even more talented than he was rang in Jin Zixuan’s ears, and he couldn’t help but look at Wei Wuxian, and wonder if this was it, this was the moment, if he was finally going to be replaced…but no, that would never happen. He was the one with the right blood.

It didn’t matter if he wasn’t actually the best.

Nothing he did in life mattered, really. Nothing had ever mattered since the day he’d been born from the right womb.

“He’s actually really nice,” Mianmian said, and Jin Zixuan looked up, wondering what she was talking about, only to blanch when he realized that she was talking to Wei Wuxian. “Just shy, that’s all –”

“Mianmian!” Jin Zixuan hissed, rushing over, horrified. “He can’t be here! If my mother finds out –”

“Is that what you’re afraid of?” Wei Wuxian asked, his face brightening. “I thought you just didn’t like me!”

“I don’t know you,” Jin Zixuan said. “How could I dislike you? But really, my mother –”

“We can be friends!” Wei Wuxian declared, and Jin Zixuan was rendered immediately mute. What exactly could he say to that?

He wanted to be friends, too.

-

His mother found out, because she always found out, and when she did, she threatened to feed Wei Wuxian to the dogs.

It turned out that Wei Wuxian was scared of dogs, something Jin Zixuan’s mother had figured out pretty quickly. That wasn’t a surprise – she knew best how to find people’s weaknesses, and also how to use them. Looking at Wei Wuxian’s sickly pale face, it was clear to Jin Zixuan that this wasn’t the first time dogs had appeared in one of his mother’s punishment, although this was clearly more severe than in the past.

“It was my idea,” he lied, acting on impulse. “Mother, I want him to be my personal servant.”

“Ridiculous,” she scoffed.

“Why is it ridiculous?” he asked. “Wouldn’t the contrast between us only be magnified that way?”

She pursed her lips, but that wasn’t a ‘no’.

Seeing a possible waver, Jin Zixuan decided to trade away one of the very few point on which he and his mother had long disagree.

“He’s charming,” he said. “He can help me woo the Jiang sect girl.”

His mother knew him well enough to know that he was trying to manipulate her, but he also knew that she liked it when he did that. Men were supposed to be upright, straightforward, and virtuous, and yet she liked to see him being subtle and sly – it reminded her of herself. It made her feel like he was more her blood than his father’s, even though in actuality those traits could very well be his father’s, too.

Unfortunately, sneakiness wasn’t really in Jin Zixuan’s nature. Comparing his straightforward and even a little stupid self to his clever and cunning parents, he didn’t know who he took after – it was part of the reason he had so many nightmares about being some cuckoo’s child left in the Jin sect’s nest.

“Fine,” his mother said at last. “He gets one shot.”

Later, when she’d swept off, an empress with her retinue, Mianmian looked at Jin Zixuan with wide eyes. “But Jin-gongzi,” she said. “You don’t wantto marry the Jiang sect girl.”

“I’ve never met her,” Jin Zixuan hedged, which was also true but a little vaguer. He didn’t want to marry a girl he’d never met, one who was several years his elder and who had been described to him only as ‘nice’ and ‘average at best’, just because her mother was his mother’s old friend. He didn’t want his marriage to be yet another thing he had to do because he was someone’s child, rather than his own man.

He wasn’t going to get a choice, though, no matter what he did, just as always. Might as well use it for something good.

Wei Wuxian crashed into him a moment later, clutching him so tightly that it hurt.

“I’ll pay you back,” he promised, his voice tight. “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll be your best friend ever!”

“That’s good enough,” Jin Zixuan said, his face suddenly hot. “There doesn’t need to be anything more.”

-

Wei Wuxian really was very charming when they went to visit the Lotus Pier, far more charming than Jin Zixuan ever was or would be, and his future bride seemed positively enchanted by him, which was probably a bad thing.

Jin Zixuan felt he should probably do something about it, but he didn’t know what, so he just snuck off and went to go dip his feet into the river, something he almost never got the chance to go while at home.

“I’m sorry,” the Jiang sect heir, Jiang Cheng, said, sitting gingerly next to him.

Jin Zixuan looked at him sidelong, a little surprised. He’d thought that Jiang Cheng hated him. “What for?”

“My sister. Your half-brother.” Jiang Cheng looked uncomfortable. “I can’t even imagine growing up with someone who’d flirt with the person I was engaged to.”

Jin Zixuan thought it over, then shook his head. “I don’t think he likes her like that. Or her him, either,” he said, since it seemed like Jiang Cheng had misunderstood both Wei Wuxian and his own sister. “Wei Wuxian’s just – like that,” he added. “Always. Everyone loves him unless they’re specifically told not to.”

“That’s worse.” Jiang Cheng wrinkled his nose. “He’s the ‘other person’s child’ here, you know. My father really liked his parents – he’s always talking about him. My mother says he wishes he were his son, instead of your father’s.”

“Now that sounds awful.” Probably better for Wei Wuxian, though. Jiang Fengmian would probably treat him like a real son, not the way Jin Guangshan did, like a pawn or a liability or a bastard brought in just for his possible connections – but it would probably be much worse for Jiang Cheng, who’d have to live with that happening right in front of him. It seemed mean to wish for such a thing. “He’s actually pretty nice? We’re friends. I asked him to help me make friends with your sister…I’m not really good at making friends, when it’s just me.”

He hadn’t expected them to hit it off that well, though. At least to Jin Zixuan’s eyes, they’d clearly all but adopted each other as brother and sister the moment they laid eyes on each other…which in his opinion was actually a little bit worse, since he felt like he himself was still painfully trying to figure out what being a sibling was like, and maybe failing at it.

And in all honesty, he felt a little resentful at Wei Wuxian for being picked, too – or was it a little bereft? No one ever picked him just because they wanted to; it was all because of who he was.

Who his parents were.

“I can be your friend, too, if you like,” Jiang Cheng said. He was scowling into the distance. “A better one.”

“Uh,” Jin Zixuan said, startled. “Don’t you – not like me?”

“We’re friends now,” Jiang Cheng scowled at him. “Deal with it!”

-

Jin Zixuan liked Wei Wuxian a lot, and he liked Jiang Cheng, too, and Nie Huaisang, who he’d just met, fit in with the two of them as if they were three peas in a pod, so he guessed he must like him, too – but if those three endlessly chattering idiots didn’t shut up and let him study he was going to throw himself off some cliff in Gusu and be done with it.

“You really don’t mind me sitting here?” he asked Lan Wangji, who nodded.

Nodded and did not respond verbally – blissful silence!

Still, Jin Zixuan lingered a bit by the door to the peaceful little pavilion he’d found and thought to claim for himself as a secret study place – necessary on account of the fact that Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, and Nie Huaisang spent all their free time together making trouble instead of studying, because Wei Wuxian just did that to people, winning them over despite themselves and then leading them into mischief – only to learn that it belonged to Lan Wangji. It was filled with gentians, which were more Jiang Cheng’s color than Jin Zixuan’s, but Jin Zixuan had seen enough peonies for a lifetime and needed the concealment besides.

It was very kind of Lan Wangji to let him stay, but he still felt he ought to apologize.

And not just for the intrusion.

Wei Wuxian’s ignominious departure from Lan Qiren’s classroom had made it much more peaceful, but that had come at a cost to Lan Wangji’s own education and opportunity to make friends with others – and while Jin Zixuan liked Wei Wuxian a great deal, he wasn’t sure how Lan Wangji felt about being stuck having to monitor him all day.

And now Lan Wangji was being nice to Jin Zixuan, letting him disturb his privacy like this without complaint, and even agreeing to let him stay so that he’d have somewhere quiet to study…he really ought to say something. Maybe apologize for Wei Wuxian, if that was appropriate. It probably was: he was responsible for him, in his own way. The only problem was that he wasn’t sure how to start the conversation –

“Do you like Wei Wuxian?” he blurted out, then felt his face go bright red. He hadn’t meant to ask it that way! After all, who didn’t know how much Lan Wangji disliked Wei Wuxian? He was always glaring at him and saying he was speaking nonsense and telling him to get lost and –

Lan Wangji nodded.

Jin Zixuan blinked. He did? But then why –

“Oh,” he said, suddenly realizing. “You’re socially awkward, too!”

Lan Wangji frowned at him, and Jin Zixuan waved his hands.

“No, no, I don’t mean that as an insult,” he said hastily, trying to cover for his blunder. “It’s like me! I always say the wrong thing, so most of the time I try not to say anything – of course people always get the wrong idea anyway, thinking I’m being quiet because I’m looking down at them…Wei Wuxian’s getting better at understanding people, but he’s still not very good at it, either. I bet he has no idea! If you like him, you should say as much.”

Lan Wangji shook his head.

“…I could say it for you, if you want?”

Even more urgent head-shaking.

Honestly, if Lan Wangji were a woman, Jin Zixuan would’ve thought that he had a crush.

As it was, he was probably just like Jin Zixuan: naturally awkward, and shy about it, too.

“It’s all right,” he said encouragingly. “Next time they throw a party, you can come and sit with me; we can have tea and pretend not to know them. It’s what I always do.”

Lan Wangji stared at him for a long moment, and then finally nodded very slowly.

“I appreciate the offer,” he said, voice neutral. “Thank you.”

-

When the time came and the Wen sect pushed things too far, naturally Jin Zixuan stood up for Mianmian.

Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, and Lan Wangji all did, too.

Naturally, this made Jin Zixuan feel like complete crap on their account – Mianmian was his friend, his sect, and naturally he had a responsibility towards her; the rest of them were just helping because they were good people, and good friends. But at this point they’d done it, and Wen Chao was angry at them all over it, and there was nothing to be done about it.

And then there was the Xuanwu of Slaughter, and they were all trapped inside with it.

Sometimes, he really hated the Wen sect. Often, even.

“Jiang Cheng, you and Jin Zixuan lead the way out,” Wei Wuxian instructed. “No, don’t protest! You’re heirs of Great Sects; everyone will follow you and listen to you, and that’s critical – you’ll need to evade the Wen sect’s efforts to recapture you. That means cohesion, and cohesion means hierarchy. I’ll stay behind to distract the Xuanwu…”

“That’s a terrible idea,” Jiang Cheng exclaimed.

Jin Zixuan nudged him. “Wei Wuxian’s usually right about this sort of thing,” he reminded him. It was a good thing they’d gotten over that period in their lives when Jiang Cheng thought Wei Wuxian was an evil thief who wanted to take away his older sister and Jin Zixuan’s rightful spouse, when they’d fought all the time while Jin Zixuan desperately tried to get between them. He still had no idea what magic alchemy had happened that had suddenly made them best friends – he suspected Mianmian, or maybe Jiang Yanli – but he was deeply grateful for it. “And we can’t risk the majority. Preserve human life above all else, remember? Teacher Lan’s lessons were very clear.”

“I will remain with Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said, to no one’s surprise. They’d been more or less inseparable after Jin Zixuan had recruited Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang to help them get along better after Wei Wuxian’s temporary exile to the Library Pavilion had ended. It helped that Lan Qiren had pulled Wei Wuxian aside for personal lessons to help him catch up with the rest of them, and that those had somehow metamorphosed into afternoon sessions about inventing new types of musical cultivation techniques in which Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian were the most enthusiastic, and only, students.

Best of all, it had given the rest of them a chance to finally actually do their work.

Well, not Nie Huaisang, but that was only to be expected.

“But your leg –” Wei Wuxian started, and Jin Zixuan nudged him.

“He’ll only be more worried if you don’t let him stay back and join you,” he said reasonably. “Anyway, it’s good for you to have an incentive not to detour into some big flashy heroic bullshit.”

“Awww, but Jin Zixuan, I like big flashy heroic bullshit!”

Jin Zixuan was, by this point, almost entirely convinced that Wei Wuxian actually was the biological child of Wei Changze, and that his father had lied, both about the man’s supposed infertility and possibly about having slept with Cangse Sanren at all. From Jiang Cheng’s stories, inherited from his father, it seemed that Wei Changze was also the sort of person who went in for big flashy heroic bullshit and reckless humor, the sort that would win him a disciple of an immortal mountain as a bride; it certainly seemed more likely than him sharing blood with Jin Zixuan or his father or even Jin Zixun, all of whom tended towards arrogance, but whose flash was all in their clothing.

Not that it mattered at this late date, of course. They were brothers now – as Nie Huaisang would put it, there were no takebacks allowed.

“No bullshit, you hear me?” Jin Zixuan repeated, looking pointedly at Wei Wuxian. “Not allowed. Take care of yourself, okay? Don’t make me have to tell Mistress Jiang that I lost her favorite idiot friend.”

“You tell her?” Jiang Cheng grumbled. “I’ll have to tell her. All right, let’s go.”

-

Jiang Yanli was not impressed with the fact that they’d left Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji alone in a cave with a giant murderous turtle.

She still made them soup and gave them bandages to wrap up their bloody feet, though.

(Jin Zixuan was never going to make a good impression on her, no matter what Jiang Cheng said.)

-

“Wen Chao has demanded recompense for the mess at the Nightless City,” Jin Zixuan’s mother said, reading a letter. Her lips curled up in a strange little smile. “He said Wei Wuxian’s right hand would do.”

“Mother,” Jin Zixuan exclaimed, leaping to his feet with his eyes wide. He’d only been home a week from the indoctrination camp, and Wei Wuxian was still lying in bed most of the time, pretending he wasn’t exhausted; Wen Chao must have sent the letter almost immediately after he’d realized they’d escaped. “You can’t be serious!”

“Why not?” she asked. “It’s just what the little bastard deserves, always trying to outshine you.”

Jin Zixuan shook his head, frantically trying to think of a way out of this, because he knew his mother wouldn’t so much as hesitate to order such an atrocity. She’d never forgiven Wei Wuxian for the possibility of being a threat to Jin Zixuan’s position, however remote the chance, and she’d tried very hard to convince Jin Zixuan of it, too – it was the only thing they didn’t agree on, the only thing Jin Zixuan didn’t yield to her on, and he hated every moment of it.

But not as much as his mother hated it.

It was the only thing she couldn’t control in his life, and she hatedit, and hated Wei Wuxian for it, too.

(She couldn’t hate Jin Zixuan. She couldn’t, because he had the right blood, because he was her son, because he was the heir of Lanling Jin and the source of all her power. But sometimes, when the light was dim and she glanced over too quickly and thought she saw his father when she looked at him, he thought that she wanted to.)

“You can’t be serious,” Jin Zixuan said a second time, keeping calm by sheer willpower. No one but him would dare to object if his mother made a move, especially in his father’s absence…and even if his father was there, Jin Zixuan wasn’t sure his father cared enough about Wei Wuxian to endure another fight with his fearsome wife. “Mother, he’s my servant – my responsibility. Whatever he does is my responsibility, whether to my credit or to my deficit. That’s how that works. They may be asking for Wei Wuxian’s hand, but who’s to say, when they come to claim it, that they won’t seek mine instead?”

“They wouldn’t dare.”

“It’s the Wen sect,” Jin Zixuan reminded her. “What don’t they dare?”

She pursed her lips, thinking it over, and for a moment he thought he’d won. “Perhaps,” she allowed, and before he could even breath a sight of relief continued, “But no matter. They’ve set the price, and we can pay it, so why not? We can cut off his hand and send it to them as a peace offering in advance. After all, they’re important allies of ours, and he’s just a bastard.”

“But –”

“No, A-Xuan. No more arguing; I’ve decided.” Her smile broadened. “We’ll do it now.”

Jin Zixuan couldn’t fight with his mother. He’d never had the courage – he was as spineless as his father.

Almost as spineless.

“Yes, Mother,” he said, and drew his sword.

“A-Xuan..?”

“My servant, my responsibility,” he reminded her, and he knew that she’d misunderstood, that she thought that he was going to go take care of the grim task himself. He knew, because for a brief moment in time she looked happy – not true joy, but the only way she ever looked happy for as long as he could remember, like she’d won one over on someone and gotten her way despite everyone’s efforts. He hated to disappoint her. “I have my honor to think of, too.”

-

Jin Zixuan sent Wei Wuxian to the Lotus Pier, bearing words of warning. His father’s spies had reported that the Wen sect would probably target them first, using Jiang Cheng’s interference in the Xuanwu cave as an excuse – there wasn’t any point going after the Lan sect a second time, and the Jin sect were longstanding allies of Wen Ruohan, with Jin Guangshan being a coward at heart; if Wen Ruohan could keep him out of the inevitable war for a little longer by playing nice, he would.

Word came back not long after that they’d been right: the Lotus Pier had been destroyed.

It also said that Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli were missing – missing, but not dead. It didn’t say anything about their parents, and that was suspicious, too.

Maybe sending Wei Wuxian had helped after all.

“We should reach out to the Nie sect,” Jin Zixuan told his father. “With our money and their strength, we can resist the Wen sect long enough for the smaller sects to catch up.”

“The Wen sect is all-powerful,” his father objected. “What’s even the point of resisting? We’d be better off reaching out to them to see if we can reach a peaceful agreement.”

“We’ve already seen what agreement they want to reach,” Jin Zixuan said, and his father’s gaze dropped guiltily to his waist. Jin Zixuan didn’t bother looking down himself. He didn’t do that much, these days. “Am I your heir or am I not? You promised me that I’d inherit a sect, not slavery. Reach out to the Nie sect.”

Jin Zixuan should not talk that way to his father. He had always been a filial son, and a spineless one; his father’s son, and nothing else. The only thing he had going for him was the right blood – and even that wasn't that sure a bet, these days. He knew his father was already thinking about Jin Zixun in a way that suggested that all those rumors about his ‘cousin’ having a different father than the one everyone said he had might have some merit.

It seemed, though, that when pushed to it, he was also his mother’s son.

He hoped she choked on the knowledge.

“Reach out to the Nie sect,” he said again. “With all the cultivation world uniting, the Wen sect’s fall is inevitable. If we don’t act now, we’ll be seen as cowards, hanging back and waiting to see how things fall out to eke out the best advantage – if we act, we’ll be seen as heroes.”

“But what if you’re wrong, and the Wen sect does win?”

“Then we’ll tell Sect Leader Wen that we’re perfectly positioned to negotiate the other sects’ terms of surrender, and use that to win anyway,” Jin Zixuan said, less because he thought that was an acceptable course of action and more because he knew it would be what his father would do anyway. “Call the Nie sect.”

-

“I’m going to kill you,” Jiang Cheng hissed, wild-eyed, and Jin Zixuan blinked at him, taken aback.

“Is it because I wasn’t able to do more to help with the Lotus Pier?” he asked, feeling helpless. “I really did try to convince my father to send more people, but I barely even got him not to block my sending Wei Wuxian –”

“Not because of that!”

Jin Zixuan took a step back. “Uh, then –”

“You cut off your own hand you maniac!”

“The situation –” Jin Zixuan started backing up. “It was necessary – Wei Wuxian, help!”

“No, he’s right,” Wei Wuxian said, arms crossed. His eyes were teary, but they’d been that way since he’d left Jinlin Tower – ever since the Wen sect’s letter. “You’re a maniac, and Jiang Cheng’s going to kill you, and you’re going to deserve it.”

Lan Wangji, standing beside him, nodded.

“It’s not that bad, really.” Jin Zixuan tried to explain. “My mother and father would never have accepted anything else – threats to me are the only thing that work on them, and even that’s stopped working after all these years. Only a real injury would have an impact. If they hadn’t been so shocked, they would’ve just continued to ignore what the Wen sect was doing, or offered them an olive branch, and then then the Wen sect would’ve used that as an opportunity to come and divide up everyone else. We’d lose precious time to regroup, and the Wen sect would only get stronger and stronger –”

“You. Cut. Off. Your. Hand!”

“The Wen sect demanded the hand of the person who started the rebellion in the Xuanwu cave,” Jin Zixuan said quietly. “That was me, not Wei Wuxian. Why should he pay my debts?”

Everyone still seemed very upset, but maybe a little less murderous. Definitely a lot more teary-eyed.

“Couldn’t you have at least picked your other hand?” Wei Wuxian mumbled. “Your right hand – that’s your sword arm.”

Jin Zixuan shrugged. “They demanded the right hand,” he said. “Anyway, it’s fine, I’ve been using my left, and it’s been going smoothly enough…you know, I think I might actually be left-handed? I never knew; everyone always made me use my right.”

“Does it hurt?” Lan Wangji asked suddenly, and Jin Zixuan hesitated, not sure how to respond to that.

Unfortunately, everyone else took that in the worst way possible, and insisted on taking care of him, no matter how much he tried to explain that it didn’t hurt, not really, not anymore; it was just the strangest feeling of absence. Like something that had always been there wasn’t there anymore.

A bit like his mother. She wasn’t talking to him anymore.

He was a terrible son, and would probably end up spending eternity in some afterlife hell being tortured for failing to properly honor his parents.

He’d already resigned himself.

“How are your parts of the war going?” he asked, trying to change the subject. “Chifeng-zun says it’s going well, but you know how he is; it’s all business with him, you never hear any stories. Did Wei Wuxian really knock out old Sect Leader Jiang when he refused to leave the Lotus Pier? Tell me he didn’t.”

“He did,” Jiang Cheng said, and he looked amused about it – maybe he’d be in the next boiling pot over in the afterlife of unfilial descendants. “He was a little frantic, you see, on account of not wanting to fail you by letting them die. After all, you had just cut off your own hand for him…”

“Are you ever going to let that drop?”

“Sure. As soon as you have two hands again.”

“…so, never.”

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng said patiently. “Never. Never ever, if that makes it clearer for you.”

-

Jin Zixuan’s new hand was made of steel and wire, under the gilding, and functioned using some of the innovative new talismans that Wei Wuxian had invented. He couldn’t help but hope that they weren’t part of the subset that constituted demonic cultivation because people were being really weird about that.

“It’s like people wanted for me to just die in the Burial Mounds,” Wei Wuxian complained. He was dressed in black and grey and red, which he’d apparently adopted as his new sect colors – Jin Zixuan had only managed to send him out of Lanling the first time by officially ejecting him from the Jin sect, a decision his father had initially endorsed but now, he suspected, was regretting.

It was a lot easier to throw out a servant than it was to invite back the founder of demonic cultivation, especially now that he was a war hero and a sect leader.

“You didn’t have to be in the Burial Mounds to begin with,” Jin Zixuan reminded him, to no avail. “I know I said I needed an army because my father wasn’t supplying us properly, but I didn’t mean ‘invent an entirely new cultivation technique and raise an army of the dead’. You know that, right?”

Wei Wuxian shrugged it off, because of course he did.

“You know, they’re calling me the Yiling Patriarch?” he said, and grinned. “It’s because the Burial Mounds are in Yiling, and because I’m founding my own sect. Or whatever. Like I wouldn’t be supporting you, anyway.”

“It has to be your own sect because otherwise you might be forced to share your secret techniques,” Jin Zixuan explained, not for the first time. “Rogue cultivators don’t have the same protections that sects do, even small sects. It doesn’t matter if you’re the only person in it. Or, well, you and Lan Wangji, I guess.”

“I still can’t believe he’s willing to leave the Lan sect to join me,” Wei Wuxian sighed happily. “He’s such a good friend.”

Jin Zixuan wasn’t sure about the strength of his new hand, which was the only reason he didn’t try to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. “You’re a bad influence, you know,” he said instead of trying to explain to Wei Wuxian that people didn’t generally leave their natal sects for the sake of a ‘good friend’. “I nearly hit a girl the other day.”

“You did? You? What’d she do?”

“She gave me soup and implied that she’d made it,” Jin Zixuan said. “Except it tasted exactly the same as the soup Mistress Jiang is always making for you – I’ve had it recently enough to know. Sure enough, I push the issue a bit and it turns out it was Mistress Jiang’s. The girl was just trying to claim credit as an excuse to get close to me.”

He sighed. He’d been so angry about it. They were at war! People were dying, losing their homes, losing everything, and this stupid girl could only think about how to plot and scheme to try to get to a prized position as the future Madame Jin. Had his mother done the same, when it’d been his father…?

“You’ve had shijie’s soup recently?” Wei Wuxian asked. His expression looked slightly odd. “Shijie made you soup?”

“Yeah, I think she’s been dropping off whatever’s left over at my tent when she’s done,” Jin Zixuan said, shaking his head. Jiang Yanli was so nice, really truly genuinely nice. He’d never met anyone like her. “Could you thank her for me? I appreciate the thoughtfulness – it’s filling enough that I don’t need to go to the mess, which means there’s more left over for everyone else.”

“…sure,” Wei Wuxian said. “I’ll tell her. Or, and here’s a thought – why don’t you tell her yourself?”

“Why would I? You’re the one she likes,” Jin Zixuan said, puzzled. “I mean, you’re her adopted little brother, aren’t you? She’s practically your second soulmate, after Lan Wangji.”

“I’m really busy,” Wei Wuxian announced, despite having been lazing around complaining that they didn’t have any encounters with the Wen sect lined up for a whole week only a few moments before. “I couldn’t possibly take the time out of my schedule to go talk to her – you see, I’ve had an idea, which is going to keep me very busy…in fact, I’m not even going to be here at all! I need to go to the Lan sect encampment to consult with Teacher Lan.”

Discovering that Lan Qiren had a mad scientist streak when it came to musical cultivation had been extremely disquieting, Jin Zixuan reflected. The world might’ve been better off if Lan Qiren had never had a chance to actually get friendly with Wei Wuxian – Wei Wuxian provided the terrible ideas, Lan Qiren scolded him about them and then helped him smooth the kinks out of them anyway.

Teacher for a day, father for a lifetime…

“All right,” Jin Zixuan said, though he still didn’t exactly understand what had just happened. “I’ll go talk to her, I guess.”

-

“I just wanted to make sure you know you’re not obligated to make me soup or anything,” Jin Zixuan said, not sure where this conversation had gone off the rails.

Probably around the time that Jiang Yanli had started smiling at him, because he always turned into an idiot whenever that happened. She was so very nice, not just average at all no matter what anyone said, and blissfully down-to-earth – she wouldn’t be wasting her time and everyone else’s thinking about how to politically advance herself despite there being a war on. She spent all her time learning field medicine and helping cook meals for the mess and –

And he’d better stop thinking because he was turning red again.

“I enjoy making soup for you,” Jiang Yanli said peaceably. “Especially since I know you enjoy it, too.”

“I do! It’s just, I don’t know, you already do so much, with the medics and organizing and everything…It’s – uh – I – listen, I know our parents – you don’t have to pay attention to that. I only have one hand, I’m not – don’t feel obligated, not because of that. And don’t let Wei Wuxian make you think making soup is the only thing you’re good for, no matter how much he likes it, okay? You do so much more than just that!”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, covering her smile with her hand. “You’re very sweet, you know.”

Jin Zixuan made an incoherent sound.

He would need to do something in return, he thought, a little frantic; he really didn’t know how to deal with a sincere compliment from someone he actually liked. Maybe poetry? Girls were said to like poetry. He couldn’t write poetry worth a damn, but he could pay someone –

She kissed him on the cheek.

All thought abruptly departed.

“Don’t worry, it’s not inappropriate – after all, we’re already engaged,” Jiang Yanli said cheerfully. “Which I’m very good with, so don’t worry about that. Good luck in your next battle, Jin-gongzi.”

At some point she must have left, because she wasn’t there anymore, and Jin Zixuan was still opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water.

Mianmian peeked in, then snickered. “Oh no,” she said. “She broke him. Everyone! Come look! She totally broke him!”

-

“Did you actually cut off your hand to save a servant?” Jin Guangyao asked.

“It was a bit more complicated than that,” Jin Zixuan said, uncomfortable, then added, “Welcome to the family.”

Jin Guangyao smiled.

For some reason, Jin Zixuan felt a shiver run up his spine. He didn’t think he liked this new brother of his, and he felt bad about it – he’d welcomed Wei Wuxian whole-heartedly, hadn’t he? Was it really that different when it actually was someone of his own blood?

He didn’t like that thought.

“I hope we can be friends,” he said, willing it to be true, and Jin Guangyao murmured something agreeable in return.

Jin Zixuan wished he liked him.

“My mother is going to hate you,” he said, because he knew that she would. “If she does, let me know, and I’ll try to stop her…not just her. If anyone treats you wrong, just tell me. I’ll stand up for you.”

Jin Guangyao smiled again.

“You’re so kind,” he said, and for some reason Jin Zixuan had the feeling that he didn’t mean it at all.

-

Jin Zixuan had been engaged since before he was born, and it still somehow came as a surprise to find himself married. Not just the event, either – these days he woke up with his wife in his arms and was forced to just stare at her lying there in the soft morning light and wonder how he got so lucky.

He was married.

To a very nice girl, who actually seemed to like him a great deal – she’d made that clear enough when she’d had a chance. Very clear, in fact, which was why there was also a very slight curve in her belly that meant that soon enough he wouldn’t just be married, but a father.

“You’d tell me if I was dreaming, right?” he asked Wei Wuxian, who was visiting again. He did that a lot, but in fairness he didn’t really have a settled place to live – everyone knew the supposed ‘sect’ he’d founded was little more than a sham. He’d been technically kicked out of the Jin sect and refused all offers to rejoin, and it seemed he wasn’t quite ready to scandalize the entire cultivation world by marrying into the Lan sect no matter what Lan Xichen had been hinting. Sometimes he and Lan Wangji spent time at the Lotus Pier with Jiang Cheng, or the Unclean Realm with Nie Huaisang under Nie Mingjue’s long-suffering gaze…everyone called Wei Wuxian the Yiling Patriarch, on account of him ‘founding’ his sect there – or rather, summoning up extra resentful energy from the Burial Mounds for the purposes of obtaining an army while minimizing the number of disturbed graves – but he wasn’t, not really. He didn’t live there or anything.

Who would want to live there?

“I would,” Wei Wuxian agreed, but he didn’t follow it up with teasing or anything the way he usually did.

He just looked very uncharacteristically perturbed.

“What is it?” Jin Zixuan asked. “Can I help?”

“No heroic bullshit,” Wei Wuxian said at once, which meant that there was a possibility of heroic bullshit. Given Wei Wuxian’s personality, that also meant that it was heroic bullshit that would be bad for the Jin sect, which he still felt bad about on account of them raising him and all…in all honesty, it might be a good thing in the long run that Jin Zixuan’s father and mother had been so awful to Wei Wuxian as a kid, and that he’d known it. If they’d been good to him, he never would have been willing to leave. “But, uh, remember Wen Ning?”

Jin Zixuan blinked. Wei Wuxian had told him some stories: a junior disciple of the Wen sect, from a branch family – Dafan Wen – who’d helped Wei Wuxian out a few times when he’d been smuggling the Jiang clan to freedom.

More than a few times: he’d been Wei Wuxian’s first disciple in matters of resentful energy, which Wei Wuxian had apparently been thinking of since forever and started playing around with more or less the moment he was no longer officially tied to a sect, and had been a valuable contact during the early period of the war before events had changed and he’d been lost.

“Yes,” he said. “What about him?”

He hadn’t thought of Wen Ning in ages, beyond abstractly hoping he was doing well. It might be hard, with a surname as he had, but surely there was somewhere in the cultivation world for those surnamed Wen – Wei Wuxian had argued fiercely in favor of leniency for the remaining Wen cultivators, and the Lan sect had backed him, thanks to Lan Wangji. The rest of them had been exhausted, Nie Mingjue, Lan Xichen, Jiang Cheng and his parents, even Jin Zixuan…his father had ended up volunteering their sect to help with resettlement of the refugees, which had been a pleasant surprise.

Sure, Jin Zixuan knew his father well enough to know that he was only doing it for the clout and possible advantage it would give him, but he was pretty sure the Wen civilians didn’t especially care why they were going to get a reprieve from death and a new place to live, only that they did.

“I’ll get there,” Wei Wuxian said. “It’s a bit complicated…you know how Jin Zixun’s in charge of resettlement?”

Jin Zixuan nodded, puzzled. “What about it?”

-

“You can’t do that!” one of the guards shouted at Wei Wuxian. “We’re disciples of the Jin sect –”

“Is that so,” Jin Zixuan said, and they all turned to look at him, each one of them blanching in utter horror. “And why didn’t I know that my Jin sect had such people as you?”

“Where’s Wen Ning?” Wen Qing asked Wei Wuxian, looking desperate. “I don’t see him…Where is he?!”

“That monster?” one of the guards blurted out.

“My brother is not a monster!”

“He’s been hiding in the woods,” one of the Wen civilians volunteered. “He’s been raiding the camp, rescuing people who are being abused –”

“Our response was reasonable in light of his aggression,” the guard argued. “He used demonic cultivation – he’s a monster! We had no choice –”

“We’re going to need to question them,” Jin Zixuan said to Lan Wangji, who was looking faintly murderous in his usual righteous sort of way. “To find out who’s their backing – Jin Zixun wouldn’t have dared something like this, not on his own. Can you bind them for me?”

-

It was his father.

Of course.

-

“A-Yao, what do you want?” Jin Zixuan asked, and Jin Guangyao stopped in his tracks, staring at him in confusion – as well he should, since he’d only come into Jin Zixuan’s study in order to say good morning on his way to breakfast. “No, sorry, that’s not what I meant. I meant, you know, in life.”

Jin Guangayo blinked at him.

Probably not the best question to spring on someone before breakfast, Jin Zixuan reflected.

“It’s about the trouble that my – that our father got into,” Jin Zixuan explained. “The other cultivation sects are furious to no end that he took advantage of their trust in order to do such a disgraceful thing…I’ve ordered Zixun to be confined for now, and I suspect he’ll have to be banished to some country house for a few years. And as you know, my father will be retiring soon and handing over the position of sect leader to me…”

Neither of them especially wanted that to happen, his father as loathe to give up power as Jin Zixuan was to take it. But what other solution was there after such a scandal?

The Lan sect, ever concerned with morality, had been horrified when they’d found out what had happened; the Jiang sect, despite their close relationship to the Jin sect, had immediately denounced it, and Jiang Yanli, who was Wei Wuxian’s friend, was the very first to speak. The Nie sect, never a firm ally for the Jin sect, was growling about righteousness, and if Nie Mingjue was sincere about that being his only concern – and having worked with the man, Jin Zixuan believed he was – then there were plenty of others in the Nie sect that had their eyes on the greater influence and power that would accrue to their sect if Jin Zixuan’s father were allowed to bring his sect down with him.

Handing over power was the only way to make sure their Jin sect remained strong.

“He won’t be alone, at least,” Jin Zixuan sighed. “I won him that much.”

Jiang Fengmian had agreed to step down from his position as sect leader as well, making it seem as though Jin Guangshan’s retirement were voluntary, part of a joint agreement of the older generation handing over power to the newer. Everyone would know in their hearts that that wasn’t the case, but it would be far less shameful than the alternative – saving a little bit of his father’s face.

“You did well,” Jin Guangyao said, listening with a neutral expression. “In uncovering everything, and revealing it.”

“I would’ve brought you in to help, but I couldn’t,” Jin Zixuan explained. “I know he asked you to help in finding demonic cultivators to join the Jin sect, and…”

He hesitated.

“He implicated me?” Jin Guangyao asked.

He had. Their father was shameless: he’d even sought to move all blame to Jin Guangyao’s back, whether as the actual mastermind or, when that was rejected, as the inciter of the scheme. Nonsense, of course.

Anyway, it didn’t matter. Even if Jin Guangyao had suggested it, it would have been his father’s responsibility to refuse.

“No one believes it,” Jin Zixuan said, which was only partially a lie. “Even Chifeng-zun laughed in his face and said you wouldn’t be nearly that stupid.”

Jin Guangyao looked – oddly pleased by that, if Jin Zixuan had to guess.

“Still, it’s awkward,” he said, rubbing his head. “People talk, and our subsidiary sects have never been as quiet as some others…you don’t have to tell me right now what you’re planning, or what you want in the long term. But maybe – uh – you have two sworn brothers. Is there any chance…”

“I could go visit them for a while?”

Jin Zixuan smiled helplessly. “I wish it weren’t necessary. And if you did know what you wanted, I could take it into account when planning the future…”

“No, no,” Jin Guangyao said. “Visiting my sworn brothers will be – fine.” He looked thoughtful. “You said Chifeng-zun didn’t think I was involved?”

“Zewu-jun was also vociferous in your defense,” Jin Zixuan said, trying to elide the fact that it wasn’t so much that Nie Mingjue didn’t think Jin Guangyao was capable of such atrocities, but rather that he declared, and loudly, that if Jin Guangyao had intended to do something horrific like that, he’d have handled it better. Judging by Jin Guangyao’s amused expression, he might have guessed anyway. “I appreciate your understanding.”

Jin Guangyao smiled.

Jin Zixuan thought he might even mean it, this time.

-

“I’m an uncle!” Wei Wuxian crowed, holding Jin Ling in his arms. “I’m an uncle, I’m an uncle!”

“Big deal,” Jiang Cheng grumbled, which would be more convincing if he wasn’t beaming foolishly. “So am I. Hand him over...hey, A-Ling! It's me, your jiujiu!”

“Can I be an honorary uncle?” Nie Huaisang asked – Jin Zixuan had no idea when he’d even arrived, or why he was here, or anything, really, but that was probably because he hadn’t really slept on account of over-excitement. “I mean, my brother’s sworn brothers with Jin-xiong’s brother, so it works, right?”

“That’s ridiculous –” Jiang Cheng started.

“No, I love it!” Wei Wuxian immediately declared. “That means Lan Zhan’s his uncle, too!”

“Wei Wuxian…!”

“Don’t worry,” Jin Zixuan said, hugging Jiang Cheng out of sheer excitement. “You’re his only jiujiu, right? Everyone else is related through me, so they have to share.”

Jiang Cheng seemed pleased by that, and Wei Wuxian laughed.

Nie Huaisang was calculating on his fingers. “You know,” he said thoughtfully. “This might be the most well-connected baby in the entire cultivation world? The only thing we’re missing is the Wen sect…Jiang-xiong, how about you marry Wen Qing? Then we’d have them all!”

“That is not how I’m determining my marriage!” Jiang Cheng yelped, but notably didn’t reject the idea.

Jin Zixuan looked at Jiang Yanli, who looked back at him, and they both started laughing.

There was more noise after that, and eventually Jin Ling woke up and started crying, making everyone start fussing like a bunch of old hens surrounding a long-suffering Jiang Yanli who’d already grown accustomed to it in a way the rest of them hadn’t.

It suddenly occurred to Jin Zixuan that everyone who was here was here because they wanted to be. Not because of his name or his wealth, not because he was Sect Leader Jin, not because of the circumstances of his birth, but just because they liked him – because they wanted to celebrate with him, and to cherish his child, to share his joy.

It was a good day.

All the days were a little good, but this one was especially good.