#refusing to allow politics into the matter means they get to shrug their shoulders and absolutely

[inkskinned]

"don't make it political!" .... what proportion of death and suffering must occur before politics are involved. if this isn't political, what is even the point of any politics, ever. of democracy. the words are "by the people for the people." if i am going to be left alone by my elected representatives to "figure it out" - to undergo damage, hardship, fear. what the fuck did i elect them for. what was their job. the entire point is that they handle this shit. this is why we were supposed to be electing leaders.

poverty is political. misogyny is political. gun control is political. climate change is political. how much aid a community gets is political. what the fuck are you talking about. it's been political this whole fucking time.

[alexawynters]

Scarlet Whispers - pt 2

Gif not mine

A/N: Not sure about the formatting, copy and paste didn't quite work out as planned. Title subject to change, not sure how I feel about it. This is my first published fic here so pls be gentle. Also I'm terrible at summaries.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female!Reader

Trigger warnings (let me know if I forgot to tag anything): Mentions of past child abuse, ongoing adult child abuse, stalking, horror, dubcon, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, gaslighting, angst, smut. There will be bits of fluff tho.

Rating: M. Minors DNI

Master list here

You miss your stop.

Not only do you miss your stop, but you end up all the way at the bus depot before the driver notices you passed out in one of the seats. The driver, a kindly older gentleman, offers to give you a lift home since it is the end of his shift anyway. He takes pity on you, perhaps due to your tired and sad appearance. Interestingly, no one seems to notice the red wisps behind his eyes.

You appreciate his kindness, but you are anxious about returning home. A quick look at your phone reveals that it is well past 6 PM and you have missed multiple calls and texts from both of your parents. This is not going to end well. In simple terms, you are fucked. Fortunately, the man doesn't seem to notice your restlessness as your leg bounces nervously as he gets closer to your home.

As you exit the vehicle, you politely thank him and offer to pay for the gas, but the man refuses. His accent changes slightly as he says, "anything to help." You shrug it off, as it is not your concern where people are from. Your focus is on more pressing matters. After closing the door, you square your shoulders and mentally prepare for the absolute shit show awaiting you as soon as you step through the front door.

It shouldn’t surprise you that your father’s booming voice is the first to be heard. “Where were you?”

You start with the truth. “Dad I’m sorry, I was on the bus after my exam, I fell asleep with my headphones-”

”I don’t want your excuses! While you live here under our roof, you will show us some respect, you will follow our rules! You had chores to do today, why didn’t you do them?”

A bead of sweat trails down the back of your neck. You hate being interrupted, and you hate being asked questions when they clearly don’t want the answers. Besides, you are in your twenties, not a child. “As I was saying, I-”

This time your mother interrupts. “Don’t speak to your father like that. He asked you a question, we expect you to answer it!.”

You grit your teeth. “I fell asleep on the bus, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Always with the excuses this one.” Your father laments. “Do you think your future employer is going to care about any of that? No. He’s just going to want to know why you weren’t there.”

It takes every ounce of your sanity to not snap that your answer is the reason WHY you weren’t there, and not simply an excuse. Instead you hold your tongue. They aren’t here to listen, they don’t care. They just want to yell at you, and for you to be sorry.

“I tell you, with behavior like that it’s any wonder at all you’d even be able to keep a job. They would probably fire you on the spot, and then you would be right back on our doorstep, our problem once again to pick up the pieces.”

It’s all hypothetical of course - you’ve never been late to any of your classes, but you have not yet had a job, you weren’t allowed to. You are sure you wouldn’t be late to it though if you were to treat it like your classes. You know you can’t tell your parents this however. Might as well bite the bullet and get it over with.

“Yes Dad, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? Saying sorry simply doesn't cut it! Sorry doesn’t fix the problem that you caused, so tell me, how are you going to make the problem right?” he demands. A vein throbs in his forehead. Absently you think about how he knows he should watch his blood pressure, but that would require him to watch his temper. Y/D/N could never.

You know what he is looking for, he wants you to do your chores now, but it’s after 8PM and your exam is at 8AM. If you do your chores now, that leaves you little time for last minute studying, eating, bathing, sleeping, and then catching the bus back to the university. Helplessly, you look to your mother for help.

“Don’t look at me, this is your mess you’ve created. If you had just done what you were supposed to, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. If you had just been good, you could be doing whatever it is you do with your free time right now.”

It had always annoyed you greatly that your parents were unaware of your academic achievements. While it's true that you didn't have the best grades as a child, once you entered university and chose a major, you became a straight-A student, even going so far as to make the President’s list the last three years in a row. However, in their eyes, you would always be the little underachiever they had to take care of.

Tears well up in your eyes. This situation wasn't fair. It was an accident. You had fully intended to come home and do your chores, but you couldn’t have known you would sleep through your alarm on the bus. You had been so incredibly exhausted that you experienced a vivid nightmare whilst awake. You were aware that you needed more sleep, but your degree was your only way out of this miserable place. You couldn't risk losing it all just because you missed a few hours of sleep now and then.

“Please?” You beg. You didn’t have anything else to argue in your defense. “I’ll leave my headphones in my bag this time, I’ll set multiple alarms, I won’t sleep, just please let me go study!”

Your parents look at each other, having silent communication. Seeming to come to an agreement, your mother speaks first. “Y/N we’re sorry it has to be this way, but you have already proven on multiple occasions that we can’t trust you to do the right thing. Tonight, you are going to do your chores even if it takes you all night to do it. Besides, we all know you’re not studying up there. For all we know you’re just up there masturbating in the window or something.”

Being stabbed in the chest would have been less painful. You don't understand why you're caught off guard; it's not like your mother hasn't said off the wall shit like this in the past. It's almost as if she thrives on finding the most hurtful and outrageous statements to throw in your face, as if you deserved them. As if you had ever done any of the things she accused you of. Like you were some sort of deviant, when all you wanted was simply the right to exist.

“What the actual fuck, Mom?!” you scream, having finally had enough. Both of your parents look taken aback. Rare is it for you to raise your voice at them, even more so to curse at them. “I know you’ve been pretty checked out of my life for a while now, but I’ve had a 4.0 GPA for the last three years. I don’t know where you got that… comment… from, but I can assure you that all I want to do is go to my room and study.”

“Now listen here young lady,” begins your father.

"No, YOU listen, Father," your voice dripping with sarcasm. “You were right about one thing, and that is I am a gods damned adult. I take my studies seriously, and while it may come as a surprise to you since neither of you have paid any actual attention to my life since I turned 18, though it could be argued you really stopped paying attention earlier except for when I was being an inconvenience, but I am actually a great student. This is my last semester before graduating with honors and again, a 4.0 GPA, and I will have my choice of job opportunities. I will leave this place, and you miserable old bats will have no one to be your punching bag anymore. Then maybe just maybe you can finally take a look at the flaws and fix what's wrong with your own marriage, instead of trying to break ME!”

Your chest heaved. It felt good to speak your truth, but as the silence grew, you began to realize that you might have made a mistake.

Your father has finally gotten out of his chair, looming over you. A resounding slap echoes across the room as your father backhanded you, knocking you to the floor. “You ungrateful, miserable little bitch! I don’t know what lies those ‘professors’ at the university have been filling your head with, but you have no future, and you are lucky your mother and I care enough to let you live under our roof! And so long as you do, you will obey our rules, and show us the respect we deserve!”

Fearful, you scramble back to the wall and attempt to push yourself to your feet. “If that’s the price of living here, then I will happily live in the University’s library. One week, that’s all I need!” You step forward to make your escape from this house, but this time your mother shoves you, and once again you find yourself on your knees.

You raise your hands in self-defense, but your mother sneers, "Do it, Y/N, hit me, and you'll be out on your ass faster than you can blink!" Crying, you lower your hands and prepare to allow her to strike you.

The lights went out all at once, and everyone froze. Has the power gone out? It couldn’t have, you could still hear the hum of the AC unit. So what was wrong with the lights?

The lights turn back on as suddenly as they had gone out, and all three of you look around in confusion. However, despite the lights returning, the room appears darker, creating an almost eerie atmosphere. The shadows cast a looming presence over all of you, sending a shiver up your spine. Your home, which you have lived in for around twenty ish years, suddenly feels foreboding, and you wonder if it's too late to flee. It almost resembles one of the nightmares you have been experiencing recently.

Red mist fills the room, a dreadfully sinister voice speaks. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

All three of you turn to the source of the sound - the corner of the room, as a red and black leather-clad boot, attached to black leather pants, steps through a portal and into the room. The Scarlet Witch follows, radiating her full glory. She warns, "If you wish to keep your body parts intact, you will never lay a finger on Y/N ever again."

You’re pretty sure your eyebrows have never been closer to meeting your hairline before and yet here we are. You don’t know who this unfamiliar lady is, nor how she seems to know you but God damned if that outfit doesn’t look as if it has been painted onto her. You blush at your sinful thoughts. Now is not the time, and you’re pretty sure you’re having a stroke of some sort. If nothing else, however, you are grateful for the reprieve from your beating.

Meanwhile, your parents had never taken well to being told what to do, by anyone, they certainly weren’t going to now by this costumed stranger. Your mother bristles. “Who is this Y/N? Another one of your little whores?” Completely disregarding the fact that you have never in fact had a partner in your entire life, and you don’t know whether to be pleased that she seems to think you’re capable of having a sex life or affronted that she thinks you’re some type of floozy. Your mother’s words, not yours.

“What? No, I-” You look helplessly from the floor between your parents and this woman you now recognize as the one from your visions, and the same one from your hallucination this morning. Is she here to help, or to hurt you? She has been your savior and aggressor in both; there’s no telling which she has chosen for now. Glancing between them, you are unsure how to de-escalate this situation. There is no way to convince your parents, for their own safety, that this woman is powerful and not to be trifled with. Nothing you could say, they would believe, and you were pretty sure this woman would kill your parents without a second thought if they didn’t tread carefully.

Seeming to sense your struggle, the woman speaks up in your stead. “As I’ve said, you would do well to keep your hands to yourself. I am here to take Y/N with me, and you will not stand in my way. This is your only warning, which I am giving to you out of consideration for Y/N.”

She reaches down for your hand to help you back up. Hesitantly, you take it, ignoring the shock that runs throughout your body, and begin questioning your entire reality. Take you with her? Who even is she? Where exactly is she going to be taking you? You had questions, and you would like some answers, but if you didn’t get your parents to stand down, you were pretty sure she would follow through on her threat. Sure, your parents were trash, but they were all you had. You loved them, and you were certain that, in their own warped way, they loved you, too.

She helps you up and proceeds to give you a thorough once-over, carefully inspecting your injuries. Her intense scrutiny makes you blush. Meanwhile, your parents remain silent, their thinly veiled anger evident as they observe your interaction. How dare this woman speak to them in such a manner? Thankfully, they wisely choose to keep quiet. Perhaps they also sense the dangerous aura emanating from this woman, perceiving her as a true threat. Then again, it could be due to the fact that she just stepped through a literal portal conjured out of thin air moments ago. Maybe they had been paying attention, but even you are unsure of what is real anymore.

Still holding your hand, the Scarlet Witch leads you back towards the portal she arrived through. "Come, Y/N, we have much to discuss." At this point, all you could do was helplessly trail after, hoping you weren't going from bad to worse. At least by leaving, your parents would be out of danger. As for yourself, well... It was clear that the Scarlet Witch wanted something from you. Hopefully, whatever that was would be sufficient to ensure your survival. Perhaps even enough to negotiate with.

At the last possible moment, your mother chooses, whether out of genuine love and concern for your well-being, or fear at the loss of her control over you, to reach out to take you from this bizarre woman. “Mother, no!”

Y/M/N finds herself promptly flung onto the wall behind her, and stuck there, unable to move. You aren’t sure who exactly screamed but you’re pretty sure it was every member of your family. The Scarlet Witch hadn’t even turned to look, the only indication she had even been involved is the raised hand, opposite the one holding yours, with dark, ink-stained fingertips, bent at slightly odd angles.

“Stop, please! Let her go, she won’t do it again, please! I'm sorry, please!”

Unsure of why you are begging for this woman’s life when she has spent the entirety of yours making sure you were miserable. Still, your heart lurched at the thought of anything happening to your mother. You didn’t like her, and if you never saw her again, that was probably for the best, but you certainly didn’t want anything bad to happen to her.

The Witch took a deep breath, seemingly to calm herself, before turning to face you.

In the softest voice you had ever heard she whispers “Detka, I-.” She opens and closes her mouth a few times, deciding what to say. To your absolute mortification and delight, she leans down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead, and promises “I will let them live, but I must say my piece.”

You nod, completely dumbstruck at everything happening in this moment. What. The. Fuck.

Y/M/N, still pinned to the wall, whimpers and struggles to move but is clearly unable to. The Scarlet Witch turns from you to face your parents. Another wave of her hand, and your mother slumps to the floor, alarmed, but otherwise unharmed. It is clear whatever the witch did, both she and your father are now restrained.

Footsteps approach the pair, and the lights in the house flickered ominously. Despite your mother being nearly 40 years older than her (or so you assumed, as you had no idea of this woman's age), the power emanating from her exuded confident malevolence. She showed no fear towards them, and for once, although ashamed to admit it, you were glad to see that they were afraid of someone else.

Though she was only about 5'6", the woman knelt before your parents, her voice filled with menacing intent. "I know everything you have ever done, everything you ever could do, and everything you ever will do. I know what you are guilty of. I know what you deserve, and I can assure you that it is not mercy. I will spare your lives and leave you unharmed due to the kindness of your daughter, the daughter you’ve abused for decades." As her head tilts, you can't help but feel that she becomes even more dangerous. "But if you ever try to take her from me again, I will seek retribution on her behalf, and I promise you it will be the most excruciating agony you have ever experienced. Do we understand each other?"

You squirm uncomfortably. This should not be doing things to you, but then again, no one had ever stood up for you. Ever. Gods you needed therapy. It’s fine. Little boxes, and this was for a little box for later.

The witch stood up and once again took your hand, leading you through the portal and leaving your parents behind. Perhaps for good, you weren’t entirely sure, and you suddenly realized you didn’t care. Anywhere was better than here; even if this woman was dangerous, at least for the moment, she seemed to care about you, and that was enough for you to follow her to the ends of the earth.

Again, therapy…

The pair arrive at a massive stone temple, which you would later learn is called Mount Wundagore, the Scarlet Witch's temple. It is built into a massive, rugged mountain with steep cliffs, situated above dense forests and enveloped in mist. The mountain exudes an air of mystique and possesses an eerie atmosphere. Scattered across its walls are depictions of the woman in front of you, accompanied by various runes whose significance you suppose hint at a potentially supernatural importance.

The Scarlet Witch does not make much of an effort for introductions, nor explanations, simply heads towards the entrance to her temple.

“What is this place?” you ask, hints of awe and fear in your voice

“Our home.” 

Your brain stutters. “I’m sorry, what now?” 

“Detka, do not pretend you did not hear me, I don’t enjoy repeating myself. This is our home.” Her accent sounds vaguely Eastern European, and becomes more pronounced the more irritated she is. You wonder when she started trying to hide it.

Your mind balks at the idea of this being your new home, it couldn’t be less foreboding. “Uhhh… this.. is a giant stone temple in BFE nowhere, with ice, snow, and-”

Movement startles you out of your reverie. Beings made entirely out of stone shift from foot to foot, as if adjusting their stance. Their eyes have the same red glow as the woman who leads you now.  

 “Are those rock trolls??” The stone guardians loom threatening, but make no move to engage, they await their Queen’s orders. “Right. Rock trolls. Why is this our home? WHERE is our home? And,” you spin, taking the aesthetic of the temple in, trying not to have an anxiety attack. “What do you mean -our- home? Who are you, and what do you want with me?”

You can’t tell if the faint twitch of the other woman’s lips is in amusement or annoyance at your ramblings, but in your defense, she had let you speak uninterrupted. You were known for getting entire paragraphs out if left unsupervised - it was a talent and a curse. Personally you felt she should be grateful you weren’t jumping down her throat, you didn’t know anyone else who would be taking this half as calmly as you were. Then again, you were still waiting on your Hogwarts acceptance letter at 25. 

“My name is..” she hesitated. “Wanda. I am.. I was an Avenger.”

You looked on blankly, hoping she would elaborate. The fuck was an “Avenger”?

"In my universe," (you filed away the fact that she implied the existence of a multiverse for later, as it was a problem for another time) "the Avengers are superheroes. Well, that's what we called ourselves - Earth's Mightiest Heroes. A bit arrogant, if you ask me. We dealt with threats that the military and ordinary people couldn't handle. We were the last line of defense. We saved the world countless times, but at a great cost of lives. We were vain, thinking we were above it all because we believed we were acting for the greater good. But try explaining that to those who were lost as collateral damage.

I digress. We.. were considered to be heroes. There were several of us, we were a team. A family. We lived together, fought together. Died together. Until we didn’t.”

Wanda explains the dynamics of the Avengers team, including how she and her brother Pietro joined. She mentions Pietro's death in the battle against Ultron, as well as the events leading up to and the battle against Thanos. She also covers the events of the “Blip”, and what happened afterward. However, she conveniently chooses to omit the events of Westview, as she didn't want you to know about that just yet.

“That’s.. wow. Wanda, that's a lot. Honestly, if I hadn’t seen your powers myself, I wouldn’t believe you. But all of that still doesn’t explain why you’re here. You mentioned your universe as being so fantastical, why would you come here? And what do you want with me? If you’re a hero, why are you here in what totally looks like a villain’s lair and not with your other superhero buddies?” You neglect to mention the unease creeping up your spine.

This is fine. Everything is fine. Right? Right. 

A look of utter despair crosses the witches face as she locks eyes with you before glancing away.

“I mentioned my team before, but I didn’t mention you.”

“…” You slow blink. This was not how you thought your day was going to go, and honestly, you were already getting a bit of a headache. Could she be less cryptic because that would be great. More details, fewer questions. Maybe another nap.

"Y/N, where I am from, you were also an Avenger. You had joined the team before Pietro and I, and were one of the few who made us feel welcome. Despite the fact that we had previously been enemies, you didn't treat us as ticking time bombs. Instead, you welcomed us with open arms. Your go-to tactics were kindness and understanding, which made it hard not to want to get to know you. When Pietro died, you were the only one who checked on me and cared. You taught me that grief is just love persevering. You became my closest friend, and over time, I couldn't help when those feelings began growing into something more.”

You swallow uncomfortably. It sounds like Wanda is telling you that in this other universe you both were an item. It’s not that you wouldn’t be honored to be with such an attractive woman, but it feels weird knowing that that was a different version of you. Someone with superpowers, someone likely more confident by the sounds of it. This feels almost as if you are intruding on something you shouldn’t, yet Wanda is the one telling you this; if it weren’t okay for you to know, she surely wouldn’t be sharing. You don’t really know what to make of this; if she has feelings for this other you, why is she here with this version of you?

“In the battle against Thanos, we learned that the source of your powers was an infinity stone embedded in your skull courtesy of H.Y.D.R.A. experiments, which altered your genetic DNA. Thanos had also learned you possessed this Mind Stone and sought to take it from you by force.”

Anguish on her features, the witch turns to you. “You were going to die, Y/N. We tried, I tried, so hard to protect you, to keep you away from him but at every turn he found you. If he had gotten the Mind Stone, he would have been able to enact his plan to rid the universe of half of all life. You told me.” She hiccups.

“Y-you told me it was okay, that you forgive me. That I needed to.. that I needed to destroy the stone to save the universe. I didn’t want to. I would have given anything else but that. But you held my hand and told me you forgave me, that you only felt me. Then Thanos came, and we were out of time. I was the only one with the power to do it because its magic was so similar to my own. I placed my hand to your head and I-.” She is unable to continue, breaking off into sobs.

Oh. So she had to sacrifice you to save the universe. Well. You agree with the alternate you, you didn’t blame her, and you would definitely forgive her. Awkwardly you try to find some way to comfort her. While obviously you were not the same person she had loved and lost, and you knew from your own experiences with loss that sometimes words just couldn’t cut it. Instead, you shuffle forward, making sure you were heard in case she wanted to refuse you, and pullher  in for a hug.

Wanda tenses in your embrace, as if she can’t decide if she wants to sink into it or send you flying. “The worst part,” she continues, “was that it meant nothing.”

If you were a dog your head tilt might have been cute.

“In the end, Thanos was still able to get the Mind Stone, and you were still dead, by MY hand, and it all meant NOTHING!” Wanda wrenches herself from your grasp, looking positively unhinged. You probably should have been scared. You weren’t. Her wrath did… things… to you. Therapy…

“All because Strange saw supposedly every possible future and CHOSE to let you die to save everyone else. As if there was no other possible outcome!”

Oh, that... that makes more sense. The other you was still dead, and Wanda was definitely suffering from PTSD from her involvement in it. Her little stunt with your parents was probably her way of trying to save you or bring you back to life. But in your universe, there weren't any superheroes, magic, or Thanos to protect you from (that you were aware of at any rate). So what was Wanda doing? This wouldn't bring her version of you back to life. You may have looked and sounded alike, and you might have made similar decisions, but you simply weren't the same person. The lack of the same life experiences meant that you had different personalities, despite having a similar genetic build.

“So we saved the world, and I left to live in exile. After the funeral, Clint handed me your belongings, and in them was a letter. A deed to a plot of land you had purchased in our names where we were going to build a house. I think it was supposed to be a surprise after we defeated Thanos. We had never lost before, not since Pietro - I don’t think it occurred to us that we could. So I drove out to see and.. Y/N I was still so new to my powers. They were still mostly subconscious. I was grieving and... it would be easier if I show you. May I?”

“May you.. what?”

A subtle smile appears on the witches' face at your ignorance. You are tempted to mention how beautiful she looks with that smile. Shaking off the thought, you ponder if she can read your mind, as her smile becomes knowing and a slight blush colors her cheeks. Ink-stained fingers reach towards your temple, but she hesitates, waiting for your consent, and your heart fills with warmth. You nod once, despite not really understanding.

Her charcoal-colored fingers, cold to the touch, make contact with your temple. Just as you're about to complain about the lack of warning, you're abruptly transported into a completely different world, surpassing the immersive experience of any 3D movie you've ever seen. You not only hear and see everything in every direction, but you can also feel and smell it all. It feels as if you are truly present in that moment. It takes a few minutes for you to realize that you are witnessing someone else's memories, to be precise, Wanda's memories.

She starts her memory with the unexploded bomb created by Tony Stark, which sat in the middle of the rubble of the Maximoff residence. In that chaotic scene, there were two children, the twins, hiding in fear under a bed. However, before you could offer any comfort, the scene shifted. The twins had been taken to HYDRA, where they were subjected to brutal experiments. Witnessing their suffering broke your heart, and despite your best efforts, you were unable to interact with your surroundings, although you desperately tried. Repeatedly you threw yourself against the walls of the cells in which the twins were held, hoping to free them from their hellish situation. You observed the twins' powers first emergence: Pietro's as he attempted to reach his sister's side, and Wanda's as she tried to defend Pietro from the scientists.

Scene after scene, each one as traumatic, if not more so, than the last, depicting all the events from Ultron and beyond. And then there's you. Except, it's not really you. You've certainly never possessed the power of teleportation, nor have you ever been so self-assured. This must be Wanda's universe's version of you. With bright eyes and a warm demeanor, you appear as a beacon of light in Wanda's otherwise bleak life. You observe as the version of you in this universe warmly welcomes the twins to the team, a stark contrast as to how the rest of the team treats the newcomers ranging from suspicious to openly hostile.

It’s surreal, watching yourself from outside your own body, knowing this version isn’t really you, but still no less real of a person. Wanda’s memories begin focusing less on missions and more on interpersonal relationships. Specifically, the one developing between yourself and Wanda. It’s intimate and you feel like an intruder watching this unfold. Sadly, as you grow closer, Wanda loses the only other connection she has - Pietro is hit by stray bullets while saving children. A true hero, and there was nothing anyone on the team could do to prevent it. You watch in horror both for the loss of Pietro as a friend, as well as knowing the absolute devastation this will cause your beloved Witch.

You can tell at this point that that’s what she was to you. It hasn't been long, but that bond has clearly already been sealed; you can see the signs in both your alternate self and Wanda. You would have to be blind not to. The loss of her brother does terrible things to Wanda and it’s all your other self can do to try to keep her afloat. “What is grief but love persevering?”

The scene shifts again. Time has clearly passed, and Wanda appears to have healed to some extent. She and the team have become much more cohesive, which delights both versions of you. Your relationship has definitely progressed, if the blush currently gracing your face, extending to your ears, is any indication. You feel the remnants of the emotions from your alternate self. They are not yours, but neither are they entirely unfamiliar. It makes for a disconcerting sensation to say the least. You don’t know Wanda like that, even though this version of you does. You wish you could view these memories dispassionately, free from your alternate self’s emotions that are bleeding through, but you suspect that’s not possible. Once again you try to reassure yourself that you are not the same person, no matter the genetic makeup.

Jarring you from your reverie, next you find yourself in another battle, and this one is massive. There are more superheroes here than you have ever seen before, either in Wanda's memories or in films. This must be the fight against Thanos she had told you about. Dread settles in your stomach like a stone, and for a moment, you contemplate what it will be like to witness your own death.

Traumatizing, for sure, though not for the reasons you had expected. While you are unable to interact with your environment, you are able to freely move about. Instead of looking at the memory entirely from Wanda’s perspective, you move to stand beside yourself. Wanda stands before you, ethereal, magnificent, yet utterly devastated. She knows what she has to do and pleads with you not to make her. It is unjust for a woman so powerful to suffer such loss, and still you implore her to sacrifice your life, her happiness, for the sake of the rest of the universe. It is unfair. It is cruel. You know it, but you ask anyway.

She never could tell you “no.”

You know the moment this universe's version of you had died when you witness the sheer devastation on Wanda's face. Most people would probably look away, but you couldn't. For some unknown reason, you feel compelled to witness this moment in all its horrifying detail, if only to gain a true understanding of the witch and the immense pain she has endured. There were surely few things more intimate than allowing someone to share their own memories, and here Wanda was, granting you unrestricted access to hers. The least you could do was accept this gift she was offering, no matter how painful it might be.

The images that follow blur together, evoking your personal experiences with grief and a sense of detachment from the world. The funeral is somber, one and all everyone dressed in black and grey. Wanda is present only in body, and you can’t blame her. Clint, the archer, hands her your belongings, including the letter she had mentioned. It unnerves you how detached Wanda appears to be at this moment, despite being surrounded by friends and colleagues. You worry about what lies ahead for her. So much loss in such a short time, it didn’t take a psychiatrist to know this would surely take a toll on her. You prayed that her friends came to check on her, but you had a feeling either they didn’t, or in her grief, she refused them entry.

Colors blend into one another and fade out. You find yourself standing on a plot of land in a town called Eastview, crouching next to Wanda as she collapses to her knees. Her body is wracked with anguished sobs as she finally allows herself to grieve. You wish you could interact with this memory, to hold her and alleviate some of her pain, even if only for a moment. Instead, you sit with her, sharing in her pain as she releases it all into the world. Wanda allows herself to experience her grief in its entirety, no longer burying her feelings beneath a veneer of numbness. Colors leech from the world around her, turning it greyscale. You're pretty certain that even at their strongest, the average person's manifestation of grief isn't supposed to do that, but then again, the average person isn't the Scarlet Witch. Briefly, you wonder what consequences this will have on her world. Your head feels fuzzy, and as your vision fades to black, you suppose you are about to find out.

You regain consciousness and find yourself in a world entirely devoid of color. Disoriented, you blink as the details of your surroundings slowly come into focus. In front of you stands... well... yourself. Or rather, an alternate version of you who appears to be from the 1950s, slightly older but still alive. Seated beside 1950’s you is Wanda, also monochrome and dressed in 1950s attire. Blearily, you rub your eyes. It has been a long day, and you are extremely tired, unsure if this is just an incredibly vivid hallucination or if you have actually passed out somewhere.

Alternate you asks Wanda a question, to which you aren’t listening, and she replies with a quip - you still aren’t listening, wondering where you are and why everything is in greyscale. What catches you off-guard though, is the surround sound laugh track that‘s garnered in response. It’s galling to admit but you jump, startled, and look around. There’s no one else in the house besides yourself, the alternate version of you, and Wanda. Where did that come from?

Alternate you replies to Wanda, and again with the laugh track. This time you are not as startled, but no less unsettled. What fresh hell is this? Could this be Wanda’s doing? It doesn’t seem like you can ask her though, as you’re just a passive observer in this strange situation. The last thing you remember, Wanda was grieving in Eastview at the plot of land which alternate you had purchased to start your life together after retiring from being superheroes. Strange grey wiggly woos (as you were starting to refer to her magic) were emanating from the witch, quite different from the familiar scarlet color you had grown accustomed to.

Perhaps this was her doing, if only subconsciously. You tried to recall, didn’t Wanda mention something about her powers being new to her and mostly unintentional? This could be what she had been referring to. Apprehension made a home in your chest as you found yourself dreading whatever was about to unfold before you. Oh no, Wanda, what did you do?

It doesn’t take long after observing the hijinks and mishaps, for you to realize that Wanda's grief had manifested through her powers. She had transformed the town of Eastview into Westview, resembling a 1950s-style sitcom town. Wanda, along with an alternate version of yourself (if you were truly still alive - that part you hadn't figured out yet), and the entire town were trapped. While it may have started unintentionally, Wanda became aware of it and began actively using her powers to maintain her idyllic town, keeping it isolated from the outside world and preventing the townspeople from leaving. In her grief, Wanda was essentially playing house, holding everyone hostage. However, despite her powers growing stronger, it was clear that the people living there were suffering. If you could even consider their existence as living.

There were even two boys - twins, just like Wanda was a twin. Your heart broke, knowing this could not possibly end well. While technically not "real" and not even "yours" at that, watching these boys be born, live, and grow caused you to cultivate a love for them almost as if they were your own. Your heart thumps uncomfortably in your chest; you didn't want to see how this plays out, but you didn't have a choice.

Despite the dysfunction in your parents, you had always wanted a family of your own. An attempt to break the cycle and bring new life - happy and healthy - into this world. You wanted to raise your kids with the love and care you had never experienced yourself.

You understood the motivations of the witch, but that didn't justify her morally questionable choices. Once again, you are condemned to remain on the sidelines, unable to take any action to resolve the situation. You are forced to witness this charade unfold, hoping and praying that it would end well for everyone involved, yet knowing that it would not. How could it possibly?

Despite your bias, after witnessing everything Wanda had endured, you found yourself wishing for the best outcome for her, in particular. Among all the people you could think of, she deserved a break from the misery that had plagued her life until now.

Eventually, it all came to a head when another witch named Agatha Harkness had infiltrated the town with a book called the Darkhold, attempting to convince Wanda to join her and increase their powers. If Wanda refused, the witch planned to take Wanda's powers for herself. Something about a prophecy regarding a Scarlet Witch.

Meanwhile, the alternate version of you had become self-aware of the true nature of Westview. This version of you pleaded with Wanda to prioritize the wellbeing of others over her own happiness, once again. They urged Wanda to defeat Agatha and free the townspeople, even if it meant losing her spouse and children. It was an impossible choice, and you questioned whether you could have mustered the courage to make the same decision in Wanda’s position.

Wanda defeated Agatha, not that you ever doubted her for a moment. She said goodbye to you, again, and then to her boys, and released her spell. The town was free, but her family.. was gone. Wanda was once again on her own.

A startled gasp leaves your lips as you awaken from the memories. It feels like it’s been ages, but from what you can tell, it must only have been minutes since Wanda first began sharing her memories with you. “Oh.”

Cringe. You wish you could have said something, anything more eloquent. Unfortunately, you feel as though you've just been hit by a Mack truck and could nap for a week. It doesn’t help that you were still feeling the effects of lack of sleep for the last couple of weeks. 

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t feel so good, is it okay if I lay down somewhere…?” A quick glance around the temple makes you second guess the question you were about to ask. Stone floors did not make a good bed.

With a tone much softer than she had been using, she replied. "Of course, Detka, you only need to ask." 

An elegant wave of her slender fingers and gone is the stone temple, replaced by a cozy bedroom. At a cursory glance, you can tell it is a sanctuary of comfort and tranquility, featuring a plush, inviting bed. The room is adorned with personal touches, such as framed photographs of you and Wanda, and artwork that is somehow absolutely your aesthetic. Shelves display a carefully chosen selection of your favorite books, each waiting to be explored. These items add character and give the space a feeling that is unique to you, even though you have never set foot in this place before.

“Come,” A glimpse of Wanda and you are surprised to discover instead of her red and black uniform, she is now garbed in an oversized sweater and some cotton sweatpants.

“You have been holding space for others for so long, it is time you took some well-deserved rest. You work much too hard.”

“Uh s-sure.” About to make a comment that perhaps you should also change, but looking down to find that you are wearing your favorite worn Legolas shirt and some pajama shorts.

“Right. Rest.” Part of you wants to ask when you can return to your home so you can finish studying for your exams, but based on previous conversation, context clues tell you that’s the least of your concerns right now, and Wanda probably wouldn’t be too pleased with that topic of discussion right now.

Wanda takes your hand, leading you to the bed and it takes your overworked brain far longer than you care to admit to realize that she means for you both to share it. Your brain short-circuits at all the factors at play here: Knowing that you yourself are touch-starved; this absolute enchantress of a woman dated an alternate universe’s version of you, even going so far as basically playing housewife and mother of your children, and here she was asking you to share a bed. Sure, she wasn’t asking you to sleep with her, but she was still asking you to share a bed next to her and what if you accidentally spooned her in your sleep, and what if-

”You’re thinking too loudly, malysh.”

“What? You can- you’re a mind reader?!” you panic, backpedaling mentally, praying to every deity that existed that you hadn’t had any unsavory thoughts in her presence, and nearly fainting as you recalled that you in fact, had some rather explicit thoughts from the moment you first saw her.. The mortification alone was enough to put you into an early grave. You weren’t sure how you had missed that during everything she had shown you, but you reasoned you were probably more focused on the physical manifestations of her powers. 

"Relax, Y/N. I don't intentionally read minds, at least not anymore. Sometimes, surface thoughts are so loud that I can't help but hear them. Like right now, you're practically yelling them at me," she said, trying to offer a reassuring smile.

Unfortunately, while you were no longer freaking out about having accidentally offended the witch, you were now spiraling down a different path. You were agonizing over the pain you had, and likely were still causing her by thinking so loudly. If you remembered any media involving mind reading, the person with the ability usually suffered greatly at the hands of others unintentionally. Naturally, the average person didn't know how to shield their thoughts, and you were afraid that you might be giving her a migraine. To the woman who had only tried to bring you to a safe place and offer you shelter. 

You began to hyperventilate.

Wanda could see that you were spiraling, even without being a mind reader. It was written clearly on your face. However, being able to hear your thoughts helped her identify the source of your anxiety, and she berated herself for not considering that earlier. This version of you lacked confidence, and it was now Wanda's responsibility to help rebuild it. At least, according to her.

"Your parents really did a number on you, didn't they, detka?"

Cool hands gently held your cheeks, pulling you out of your thoughts. Suddenly, Wanda invades your personal space, and the scent of vanilla fills your nostrils, momentarily distracting you from what was happening.

"We're just going to take a nap, okay Y/N? You don't have to worry about anything. I'm not bothered by any of those thoughts you have." A leering grin unfurls across her face.

“If anything I’m quite flattered by them.” She winks.

Heat flashes across your body, and you can’t tell if you were embarrassed, aroused, or both. Unfortunately, you knew your thoughts were likely betraying you. Gods, if only the floor could just open up right now and swallow you into the abyss. Yes, that would be fantastic.

"However, there is time enough for such things later. It's been years, Y/N, and I've just got you back. Nap with me, please?" The witch's eyes gaze longingly into yours, and well, when she looks at you like that, how could you say "no"?

She leads you to the bed and, with the practiced ease of her time in Westview, pulls you into her embrace as the little spoon. Earlier, you had been worried about accidentally touching her inappropriately or having a dirty dream. Now though, with her arms wrapped so protectively around you, sleep claims you almost instantaneously.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Initiative - aka NMJ and JYL get engaged - ao3 or tumblr pt 1, pt 2, pt 3

Nie Mingjue was always glad for an excuse to leave a boring political meeting, although he was surprised that Jiang Yanli had been bold enough to send a note requesting his immediate presence before they were married.

Certain jibes had been made at his expense by his fellow sect leaders, of course, but he had shrugged them off. Let them think him overly indulgent; what did he care? He enjoyed having someone to dote on when he had the chance, and anyway he didn’t think Jiang Yanli would ask him to come out so quickly over nothing – though it was interesting she asked for him to join her, rather than asking for her brother.

“Mistress Jiang?” he said, walking into the room in Jinlin Tower where she was waiting for him. Her posture was tense, her hands clutched together under her sleeves. “What’s the matter?”

“Do you know where the Wen sect survivors were sent?” she asked. “It’s a matter of – some urgency. If you don’t know, we’ll have to find out another way.”

We, he thought. Wei Wuxian, no doubt, since Jiang Cheng was still inside the hall, enduring the politics that came with any meeting between sects. And Wei Wuxian did not, generally speaking, have the best ways of figuring things out.

“The Jin sect has not shared that information publicly,” he said slowly, and saw her shoulders slump in disappointment. “But that does not mean I don’t know it. What is the issue?”

Jiang Yanli explained in a few sentences: a woman looking for a brother, a young man who had helped rescue Wei Wuxian during the war, a doctor’s assistant, who’d even gone so far as to poison his own people to save members of the Jiang sect and then spent the majority of the war in a prison, and yet now they thought he had been trapped in a prison camp, being abused…a young man surnamed Wen.

A young man called Wen Ning, or Wen Qionglin. It was not a name Nie Mingjue remembered.

But the one searching for Wen Ning was his sister, Wen Qing - and that was a name he did remember.

Wen Ruohan’s favorite nurse.

Nie Mingjue’s jaw clenched at the thought. He’d spent more than half his life avenging his family, and had always assumed the Wen sect would do the same if they were allowed to live; he had never stinted on hating all of them without exception, without quarter. Wen Ruohan was a murderer and a tyrant, and his family supported him with nary a word in protest until the tables had turned and it was their own lives at stake – was it not evil to support evil? Could Wen Ruohan have done as much as he did without Wen Qing’s medicines and treatments, without Wen Qionglin’s silent compliance? Did it really matter that they had been threatened, as so many other people had been threatened?

No. Duress could explain many things, but it never excused standing aside in the face of murder. Wen Qionglin and Wen Qing were, at best, accessories to a hundred crimes, and deserved exactly none of his sympathy.

And yet.

It was not them that was making a request of him.

Patient, calm, gentle. Forgiving. These were all traits he wanted in his bloodline, traits he lacked and knew he lacked. Traits that Jiang Yanli possessed: matching strength to weakness, weakness to strength.

Nie Mingjue did not love Jiang Yanli, not yet, but if he was not willing to even trust her, it was better not to marry at all.

“Very well,” he said, deciding. “Are they waiting outside? We will go at once. Huaisang will make my excuses.”

“…Huaisang will?”

“He’ll stutter and obfuscate and make a tolerable mess of it,” Nie Mingjue said, not without a mixture of exasperation and fondness – he knew his brother too well. “And as a result they won’t know where or why we’ve gone for at least another half a shichen, if not more.”

(Knowing Nie Huaisang, he might ‘accidentally’ end up implying that Nie Mingjue had gone to enjoy some afternoon delight with his soon-to-be bride, but Nie Mingjue was too polite to mention something like that to Jiang Yanli.)

Jiang Yanli nodded, and slipped her hand into his, squeezing briefly. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “I know what it all means to you.”

“I can only give you the benefit of the doubt,” he said, trying to be honest but probably coming off as harsh. “For the rest of it, I will decide when we are there.”

Wei Wuxian didn’t have his sword, as always these days, and Wen Qing, shivering behind him, had lost hers, but Nie Mingjue brought along four Nie sect cultivators and ordered two to act as escorts, with the other two trailing behind in the event of trouble. He rather liked Wei Wuxian, especially after that stunt he’d pulled in protest of the Jin sect’s little shooting ‘entertainment’, but demonic cultivation was dangerous and Wei Wuxian’s mentality was said to be unstable. Nie Mingjue had lost so many of his own already - he was taking no chances.

“How did you know where they’re located, Chifeng-zun?” Wei Wuxian asked from where he was balancing behind a long-suffering Nie Zonghui. “I wouldn’t have thought the Jin sect shared that information.”

“Are you not familiar with the concept of spies?” Nie Mingjue asked, voice dry. Jiang Yanli, in his arms, giggled – she’d planned to send them along without her, looking disappointed and worried and resigned, and she’d brightened like a flower exposed to the sun when he’d informed her that she was coming along with them. She was accustomed to being left behind, and he intended to change that.

Besides, they were only going to the Qiongqi Path, which was solidly in Jin territory, to a prisoner of war camp staffed by Jin cultivators. It was hardly a dangerous expedition, and he did not expect to encounter anything that might be a threat, excluding perhaps his own temper.

His temper did, in fact, make an appearance.

“Jin Guangshan swore to Lan Xichen that the Wen remnants would be resettled peacefully,” he snarled, eyes red with rage and Baxia in his hand as the Jin sect cultivators - which had been tormenting the civilians here and that had gotten into Wei Wuxian’s face when he’d charged over first to shout at them - cowered in front of him. They were willing to challenge Wei Wuxian, but it seemed that Nie Mingjue was a different story – bullying the weak and cowering before the strong. Pathetic! “I had not realized that our understanding of the word peaceful was so different. Clearly I will need to have words with Sect Leader Jin.”

A hand touched his arm, and he looked down, surprised; virtually no one approached him when he was in a rage.

Jiang Yanli stood beside him, looking up at him fearlessly. “As much as I’m sure you’d like to chop them into pieces, it’ll be more effective to present them as evidence,” she said, and even smiled, as if they were sharing a joke between the two of them. “We can save the chopping for later. Following the trial that I’m certain Sect Leader Jin will insist upon.”

The Jin cultivators paled, clearly realizing that the likelihood of Sect Leader Jin standing behind them rather than immediately making them scapegoats was very low. They would be much more likely to spill whatever secrets they might have now, knowing that their fates depended more on Nie Mingjue’s mercy than on Jin Guangshan’s, than they would have even in the face of his threats.

Baxia grumbled in reluctant approval, and all of a sudden Nie Mingjue could not wait for Jiang Yanli to have a saber of her own and to cultivate its spirit – he thought it would be a very fine spirit indeed.

“Very well,” he allowed, and put Baxia back on his back, noting but ignoring the respectful looks his cultivators were sending Jiang Yanli. It was nothing more than what ought to be, the proper role of a Nie furen: to incite when appropriate, to restrain when necessary. “Zonghui, return to Lanling and bring a larger force so that we can transport the Wen civilians to safety. And – there’s no need for subtlety.”

By which he meant that he wanted every cultivator who could fly their own sword to be tagging along out of curiosity, and Nie Zonghui knew it. He saluted and left at once.

“What do we do now, then?” Wei Wuxian asked, shifting from one foot to the other. He looked anxious and young, clearly startled by the abrupt lack of violence and worried about Wen Ning – the young man had some nasty injuries that hadn’t been treated by the Jin sect, his body tossed away like so much refuse, but they’d arrived early enough that his sister was avidly working to care for him. She had said that his chances were good, since they had arrived before his consciousness had slipped away.

If they’d arrived later…

If Nie Mingjue hadn’t had the information ready to hand from the spies he disliked using, if Wei Wuxian had had to get the information out of the Jin sect directly, if he had had to ride here from Lanling rather than fly a sword, if he’d gotten stuck in that thunderstorm that was rapidly heading their way…

Well, that hadn’t happened. There was no point in wondering what if.

“Now? Nothing. We wait. Nie Xizhe, Wu Shude, take some of the Wen civilians and have them help you tie up all the Jin sect cultivators; I don’t want anyone sneaking away, and there’s not enough of us to guard them while they’re free. Wei Wuxian, walk with me.” He glanced to his side. “With us, I mean.”

Wei Wuxian obediently trotted over to where Nie Mingjue and Jiang Yanli were waiting, and Nie Mingjue led the three of them over to a nearby ridge where they could have a little privacy. The storm was getting ever closer, he noticed.

“Very well,” he said finally. “It’s just us now. What debt do you owe the Wens?”

Wei Wuxian froze. “Debt? I don’t – I already said –”

“There’s something you’ve left out,” Nie Mingjue said. “The way you act with them…”

He didn’t know how to put it into words. It wasn’t merely chivalrous altruism, nor even friendship, that was driving Wei Wuxian – he was desperate to help, manic with the need to do something; there was something else there. Some secret. He knew, because Nie Mingjue knew secrets and what they did to a man, even if he was keeping it for the best reasons in the world.

“A-Xian?” Jiang Yanli asked when Wei Wuxian said nothing, when Nie Mingjue said no more. “You know you can tell me, right?”

His lips were pressed together, his hand tight on his flute until his knuckles were white. He shook his head. “Shijie,” he whispered. “Don’t ask, please. Don’t.”

At least he’d admitted there was something.

“Your conduct is causing trouble for Yunmeng Jiang,” Nie Mingjue said, and Wei Wuxian turned tormented eyes on him, even as Jiang Yanli’s hand tightened on his. “It’s a Great Sect, but your brother is young, untried, and sensitive to criticism. It will be difficult for him to deal with the issues you present, especially if you persist in your present path of continuing with demonic cultivation instead of returning to the orthodox path of sword cultivation.”

Wei Wuxian nodded, looking pained.

“Do you have a suggestion?” Jiang Yanli asked.

“Yes,” Nie Mingjue said. “Absent yourself before you are forced to leave in truth. Go to the Cloud Recesses the way Lan Wangji continues to pester you about – see if you can’t tell him what secret it is that’s weighing down your tongue, if you can’t tell any of us – and come visit the Unclean Realm when you’re done there.”

Wei Wuxian was staring. Nie Mingjue ignored him.

“When you’re done with that, assign yourself the job of checking up on the Jiang sect’s dependent sects, or even just go around to visit every sect listed as having fought in the war, building relationships with them,” he continued briskly. “As for the reason, you’re clever, you’ll think of something. Get Wangji to teach you some healing spells and come help those in my sect who need it. Say that you’re using your demonic cultivation to help ferret out resentful energy in need of cleansing. Something. It doesn’t really matter what. But whatever you do, go. Give Yunmeng Jiang time to become as strong as it needs to be to protect you.”

“But it shouldn’t be protecting me,” Wei Wuxian protested. “I should be the one protecting it!”

“A-Xian!” Jiang Yanli exclaimed, and her expression was suddenly fierce. “Are you the eldest? No. I am. You are my A-Xian, my didi, and that means you are part of Yunmeng Jiang – we have as much right to protect you as you us, and don’t you forget it.”

“But – shijie –”

“I won’t hear another word,” she said. “I won’t! Whatever it is, A-Xian, you need to tell us eventually, or else we’ll all fall apart. Didn’t you both promise me that we’d stay together, the three of us, always? You can’t break that promise now.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes were wet with tears. “All right, shijie. I’ll figure something out.”

“Start with Gusu,” Nie Mingjue said again, uncomfortable with the display of emotions. “If you tell Lan Wangji the truth, he may even be able to help – in one way or another. Or don’t, it’s up to you. Just get yourself out of the public view. Earn some merits that aren’t related to slaughter.”

Wei Wuxian nodded again, clearly overcome with feeling, and then promptly made up a flimsy excuse to leave, dashing away towards where Wen Qing was still working on her brother.

Jiang Yanli sighed. “Thank you,” she said. “Again. I just wish I knew what was wrong with him!”

“We’ll figure it out,” he promised her. “Even if I have to pick him up and shake the secret out of him.”

Jiang Yanli smiled up at him.

“Thank you,” she said, now a third time over.

“Thank you,” he corrected. “If you hadn’t brought this to my attention, I would be guilty of negligence in regard to the Wen sect remnants – and most of them civilians, no less. As for Wei Wuxian…he’s your didi, and so soon to be my brother-in-law. It’s nothing but what I should be doing.”

“Still,” she said. “I am grateful nonetheless.”

Nie Mingjue looked down at her, fierce and yet patient, kind and righteous in her own quietly determined way, fearless enough to stand by his side and trusting him enough to come to him for help.

His heart moved in his chest.

He decided to be daring, as it had always served him well in the past – he stepped forward, closer to Jiang Yanli, and leaned down to press his lips to the corner of her mouth.

“It is what I should be doing,” he murmured, voice low. “Nie furen.”

Jiang Yanli’s face turned bright red, but she was smiling.

Yes, Nie Mingjue thought – he might not be able to promise love, but accepting Jiang Yanli’s show of initiative was definitely one of the better decisions he’d made.

[citrusdarling7]

Kinktober Day 5- Corruption Kink with The Darkling

summary- the leader of Ravka’s Second Army takes a special interest in his innocent new solider, you

cw- kinda manipulative behavior, loss of virginity, use of “y/n” once, use of the word “sir”, and the Darkling himself is a warning lmfao

🗡—————————————————————🗡

Shadows danced across the palace walls in an unnatural rhythm. All of the curtains were drawn and the only sound that could be heard was the occasional clunk of boots. Oprichniki guards were surely patrolling the halls, but they were the least of your worries.

Truthfully, you were unsure of why the Darkling had requested your company tonight. You had been told by a maid that he needed the help of a Corporalki to test some sort of new Fabrikator device. But you had only been in the Little Palace for a mere month, and surely someone with more experience would be of more use to him. Nonetheless, you stood waiting outside of his quarters at exactly midnight, just as you had been requested to do.

Suddenly, the long door slid open, creaking on its hinges. The Darkling stood tall in his dark kefta as a satisfied smile graced his face. You inclined your head slightly to show your respect for the general.

“Y/n. You look lovely, as always. Come in and join me.” He stepped to the side, allowing you room to pass. As you entered the dark quarters, you watched him wave away two nearby Oprichniki.

This was your first time visiting the Darkling’s private rooms, and you were more than impressed. A round table in the war room depicted all of Ravka, along with its neighbouring countries. A variety of little figurines had been placed over certain cities and trade routes. Beside it, there was a smaller table that sat next to a bursting bookshelf. The country’s emblem had been stitched to a large banner which hung from what you assumed to be a window.

“The new kefta suits you. It was a shame that the old one was wrecked beyond repair.” He reached for your sleeve, then stopped for a visual confirmation of consent. Proud to be wearing your Grisha colors, you held your left arm out to him. The Darkling admired the material between his fingers, most likely impressed with the work of one of his loyal Fabrikators.

“Thank you, Sir. Grisha technology is still so new to me, yet incredibly intriguing. Where is the new device I am meant to test?” You had glanced around the room, but seen nothing that looked as if it needed a Corporalki to operate it.

“Ah, about that. Forgive me, but I may have lied a bit to get you here,” he told you with narrowed eyes. You took a step closer, interested in what the general had to say. “The matters I wish to discuss with you tonight are rather confidential.”

Ohh. This was a matter of war and politics. Well, now you understood why he had sent those two guards away. Before you realized your abilities, your studies in Balakirev had been focused on international relations. It made sense that he would come to you.

“Is there a particular issue you wish to seek my counsel on?” The Darkling closed the gap between you, unknowingly pressing your back against the edge of the circular table.

“You’re too innocent for your own good, especially considering your status as a Heartrender,” he laughed, his hand brushing your hair behind your ears. Unsure of how to respond to his sudden, you meekly smiled up at him.

“Since the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew that I needed to make you mine.” Cold fingers traced your jawline as he spoke.

“I am yours. I answer to my general, as any good soldier would,” you told him. You had concluded that this was a test of your loyalty, which made sense, seeing as you were still a fairly new recruit to the Second Army. “I would slit my throat before I join forces with the Shu Han or the witch-hunting Fjerdans.” The Darkling let out a deep chuckle as he shook his head.

“Although I admire your undying loyalty to Ravka, that is not what I meant. Saints, you truly are clueless.” You frowned, a bit angry that he would say such a thing. Although the mastery of your Heartrender abilities was still coming along, you considered yourself to be decently intelligent. “Do not fret, pretty girl. I did not summon you here to reprimand you. Your training is coming along wonderfully,” he assured you.

“Then Sir, why am I here?” He chose to non-verbally answer your question by grabbing your face and pulling you in for a rather passionate kiss.

You would never admit it to any of your fellow Grisha, but you had never been kissed before. In that moment, it was everything that you had ever imagined. The Darkling gripped the back of your head with both of his hands as his lips worked against yours, sending waves of euphoria down your spine. His tongue invaded your mouth, his teeth nipping at your lower lip.

When you finally forced yourself to push him away out of a need for breath, you realized how wrong this was. A reflective surface nearby revealed that your lips were flushed red and your hair was completely askew. Immediately, you headed for the door.

“Wait a moment,” the Darkling requested. His hands snaked around your waist from behind, successfully trapping you in his grip. “I apologize for being so forward with you. But Saints, you have ignored all of my previous advances! I simply wanted to confirm that you were interested.”

“Advances,” you spoke in a shaky breath. “Sir, what advances?”

“Was it not obvious? The flowers delivered to your room, the introduction to the royal family, the new kefta. Why else would I have been so welcoming to a Heartrender who came to my army nearly ten years late, with absolutely no battle skills whatsoever, if not for my clear desire?”

“I thought you saw potential in me,” you admitted. He laughed again, although this time it upset you.

“You are quite beautiful, but not of much use to me or the Second Army. A Heartrender who refuses to kill is like a dog that doesn’t bark.” Your face blossomed with shame at his reminder. He was right; you had made it clear to all of your instructors that you would not take a life. “Do not fret, pretty girl. I would reckon that all you need is a bit of corruption. Some darkness put into you.” The Darkling’s lips met the crook between your collarbone and neck. He nipped at your skin while humming quietly to himself.

“What do you mean?” you asked nervously.

“Let me ruin you; wreck that glowing innocence of yours. I will show you pleasure beyond what you have ever imagined,” he propositioned as one of his hands started to fumble with the fastenings of your kefta. His hot mouth against your skin made it so that the pit of your stomach felt as if it was on fire. “If you ask nicely, I might even be gentle.”

Making a spur-of-the-moment decision, you shrugged your kefta off your shoulders and turned to face the man. Dark eyes met yours as you wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled him down for another kiss. You silently prayed that the Saints would forgive you for the mistake you were currently making.

This time around, the kiss quickly escalated. Strong arms lifted and positioned you on the table, scattering about dozens of figurines and notes. The Darkling hastily removed his own kefta while you discarded your boots and woolen stockings. Underneath your red Grisha coat was a simple black dress.

“My color looks wonderful on you,” he praised you as his hands slid under your dress. You whimpered in surprise and anticipation as two of his fingers gripped the waistband of your undergarments and pulled them down. He had to manually bend your knees to get the garment completely off of you, seeing as your body was too overwhelmed to do much.

“My pretty girl, has a man ever touched you before?” The Darkling’s fingers grazed against your bare core while he awaited your response.

“N-Never like that, Sir,” you told him, attempting to hang your head to shield your reddening face. He used his free hand to grab your chin and yank it upwards.

“Good. I want you all to myself.” His digits trailed gently across your cunt, collecting your arousal with every swipe. “So wet for me,” he hummed in approval. Two fingers penetrated you suddenly, eliciting your body to lean forward into his. Once again, your lips met his in a fiery kiss.

As his fingers continuously thrusted into your sensitive cunt, it became harder and harder for you to concentrate on the kiss. Small moans left your mouth every few seconds as the pleasure continued to grow.

“Fuck,” you exclaimed in between heavy pants. Your head fell between the crook of his neck as the Darkling added another finger, which increased the sensations you were feeling by ten-fold.

“Does that feel good, pretty girl?” Unable to form a coherent response, you opted to nod your head and whimper. The general’s fingers left you, leaving your cunt aching and clenching over nothing. “I think you’re ready for the real thing.”

Before you could process anything that had just happened, you were lying on black bed sheets in a very dark room as the Darkling attacked your neck with his lips. His bare cock was hard against your thigh. You were so overwhelmed by everything happening that you had yet to notice anything abnormal in his sleeping chambers.

“Give me your hand,” he demanded suddenly. You obeyed, although hesitantly. “It’s going to hurt at first. Dig your nails into my palm if you must.”

Without warning, he lined himself up to your entrance and began to slowly stretch your walls. You bit against your lip and clamped your eyes shut in an attempt to ignore the sharp pain. The Darkling pressed his forehead against yours as he let out a low groan.

“Saints, you’re fucking tight. You take me so well.” You had the sudden urge to claw at his back, which you acted on. As he bottomed out inside of you, your fingernails drew blood from his skin.

At least, they should have. When you retracted your hands, you were surprised to find no trace of blood. Perhaps your Grisha abilities had finally shown up in a most unexpected way. The Darkling came to a similar realization.

“My pretty girl, I am going to have so much fun with you.”

🗡—————————————————————🗡

(tagging some of you hotties even tho idk if you’re a grishaverse fan) (if you’re tired of getting tagged in my kinktober stuff lmk!)

@brriley @b-aobao @ravenriddlewrites @littlemulattokitten

[bruhstories]

Choke Me

Summary: Reiner can’t comprehend why you won’t have sex with him. You help him understand Pairing: Reiner Braun x Fem!Reader Warnings & Content: language, dom!Reader, sub!Reiner, oral sex (female receiving), whipping, unprotected sex, tied up Reiner Word Count: 1.7 k

A/N: You know what, I'm thriving off of sub!Reiner.

It absolutely baffled Reiner how someone like Annie was such good friends with someone like... you. He didn't mean it in a bad way, it was just too strange that the two of you were so close, yet complete opposites of each other. Annie was a tomboy, silent and calculating, you were dressed in pink from head to toe, loud and outgoing and just so adorable. And you completely ransacked his heart. Reiner was utterly in love with you, and you knew it. So, when he mustered up the courage to ask you out, it did not come as a surprise. In fact, you too crushed on him, and every time you were at their place, your eyes drifted to him, always, all the time. The two of you clicked instantly as a couple, and Reiner could only wonder how on Earth were you single until him, going so far as to asking Annie about your love life and with widened eyes, she hastily dismissed him. See, the thing was that you, despite your bubbly and juvenile personality, were a sick, sadistic dominatrix, and boys were terrified of that. While you usually donned clothing in pastels, flowy dresses and chiffon blouses, half of your closet was filled with garters, suspender belts, corsets, some in the deepest shades of red, others black, materials varying from lace to latex. Whenever you had a guy over and pulled out whips, riding crops or ball gags, they would disappear from the face of the Earth, never evercalling you back. Annie knew this about you but never judged. To each their own, she would say, not exactly caring about your kinks. But she wouldn't know how Reiner would react to that, and while intrigued to find out, she didn't want you two to break up either. Deep down she cared about all of her friends, despite the aloof attitude.

Three months into your relationship, you still politely declined Reiner's offers to have sex. He was incredibly sweet, treating you like a princess, and in return you were supportive and caring, but fearing that he, too, might run away after learning about your kinks, you kept finding excuses to deny him. At one point he even asked you if you have some sort of STD, genuinely concerned but promising to still be with you no matter what. You promised you were clean, but that only made him more curious as to why you wouldn't have him. 'You're not attracted to me?' or 'Am I doing something wrong?' were his usual questions and your heart broke in thousands of pieces each time you refused him. He seemed like the kind of man who dominated in bed, and while you were inclined to switch it out sometimes, you always, always had to have it your way the first time you fucked a guy.

Eventually Reiner couldn't take it anymore. He called you, begged you to explain yourself to him and you ceased to try and keep him away from the carnal pleasure you both desired. You invited him over, offering to cook dinner and disclose what you had managed to hide for so long. He popped at your door with a bouquet of daffodils, matching the honey-yellow apron tied around your waist, his eyes were needy and woeful, still believing it's his fault that you two haven't had sex yet. He kissed you on the lips, starving for more, but you pulled back, opting to discuss things first.

"So," you began, legs crossed under the table and anxiously swirling spaghetti with your fork, "I... shit, I don't even know how to say it."

"Y/N, whatever it is, I promise it won't change what I feel for you." Reiner caressed your cheek so gently that you felt sorry for dragging him into this.

"I think it's best if I show you." You got up, took hold of his hand and guided him into your bedroom. The chamber perfectly reflected your personality, with garlands and fairy lights hanging from the ceiling, doodles and drawings taped to the walls and stuffed toys bundled up on your baby blue bedsheets. "You better sit down for this, babe."

"Jesus, how bad can it be?"

With a sigh, you swung open the closet door, revealing the strangest of sex toys, erotic lingerie and high heeled footwear. Reiner erupted into laughter, throwing himself on your bed and holding his abdomen.

"Why exactly are you laughing?" Your voice was serious, dangerous almost, your body lacking a reaction.

"You're telling me you didn't wanna have sex because, what? You're into BDSM?"

"I don't think you get it, Reiner. I'm not just into it, I like dominating men." You frowned, taken aback by his attitude. He perked his ears up and sat up, suddenly attentive, his gaze locking with yours.

"Do you want to dominate me?" The blond asked, unsure of what it would feel like, but inquisitive to try.

"If you'll let me, yes." You bit your lip, fingers smoothing the apron.

"Fuck it, if it makes you happy, I'll let you do whatever you want to me." Reiner declared, palms on his knees. "Do I need a safe word?"

"Not tonight, I'll go easy on you." You beamed, eyes glistening with so much joy and he almost regretted his decision.

Almost.

Tied up, naked and helpless, Reiner could only watch how you strutted into the bedroom, latex corset around your waist, tits out, riding crop in hand.

"Shit, you look so-" crack.

The thin object met with his cheek and he groaned in pain, confusion written all over his face.

"You speak when I allow it, understood?" And he nodded desperately. "Good boy. Maybe if you behave, I'll reward you."

It was then when Reiner realised how easily his dick hardened when he submitted. It was then when he realised how much he loved you.

You dragged the crop across his body, goosebumps all over his skin, before you propped one foot on the bed, spreading your legs and exposing your wet cunt to him. You could've sworn you saw his pupils dilating when your fingers barely touched the slick slit.

"You want this, Reiner?"

"Yes!" The man almost cried out, licking his lips. Crack. Another hit, this time over his thigh and he whimpered — the sound was music to your ears.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, please!"

"That's better." You hummed, slightly spreading your folds, foot still on the bed. Your middle finger rubbed around your clit, a quiet moan escaping your lips. "Tell me how much you want it!"

Pulling at his restraints, Reiner sighed. Never has he felt so overpowered, but the pleasure he took from it was slowly seeping in his brain, clouding his judgment.

"I need you, Y/N. I need to feel you so bad, please!"

"You gotta earn it first." Voice aggressive yet seductive, you climbed on top of him, feet at the sides of his head. "Lick it good and I'll reward you. Do a bad job and I'll punish you." And before he could utter a word you were straddling his face. His tongue sloppily licked everything it could, in or around your cunt, and you forcefully grabbed the metallic bedframe with one hand, your other one fondling your soft tits. Your moans echoed in the room as you moved your hips for more friction, your breath hitching, his cock twitching. "Atta boy!" You groaned and slid off of him.

"Did I do well?" Reiner asked, hope glistening in his eyes.

"Very well." You snickered and pressed your lips onto his to taste yourself in a sinful kiss.

"Can I get my reward?" The man asked after you pulled away, a mixture of saliva and slickness at the corners of your mouth.

"Oh, I don't know..." You scrunched your nose.

"Please, Y/N! I've been good, I- I need you around my dick, please!" He begged, not even caring how desperate he sounded and that only made you feel like a goddess. You picked up the riding crop and dragged it up and down his shaft, terror in his eyes.

"I wonder how much it would hurt." You mused, head tilted and mischief in your voice.

"No, no, you said it was good! Please don't punish me-"

"Oh, don't be stupid." You rolled your eyes, climbing back on top of him. "I need that dick as much as you do." And with that, your hand helped push his cock in between your folds, painstakingly slowly taking it all in. "Fuck, you're big."

The sound of skin against skin tickled your brain, your hips moving up and down, your cunt clenching around his throbbing member.

"Please..." Reiner groaned.

"Please what?" You threw your head back, the pressure forming in your core making you moan louder.

"Please choke me!" He asked and you almost stopped moving, taken aback by his request.

"I'm beginning to think you like being dominated, love." You grinned, your fingers lightly squeezing his neck.

"God, you're so tight!" The man bucked his hips, the unexpected thrust earning a whimper out of you. "Harder, choke me harder!"

"Fuck, Reiner!" The grip around his neck tightened and your moves became frantic, animalistic. "You like that? You like the way I fuck you?"

"Mhm!" He eagerly nodded, unable to speak.

"Look at you, so small and pathetic." You panted, feeling your climax close and his cock pulsating. "Oh, are you gonna come? Go on, do it, come for me!" You cried out, legs violently quaking as the sticky hot liquid dripped out of your folds, down his shaft. For a moment neither of you moved. You looked at Reiner through strands of Y/H/C that draped over your face, beads of sweat glistening on your forehead. Your hands extended and you untied the ropes around his wrists, falling next to your boyfriend on the mattress, cum leaking out of your cunt.

"Do you still... love me?" You whispered, your voice shy, completely different to the woman you were five seconds ago.

"Babe, of course! And to be fair, it was so hot submitting to you." Reiner pulled you to his chest, fingers brushing your cheek. "Say, think we can switch it up next time?"

"Nope!" You smiled and rested your forehead on his shoulder.

"Eh, at least I tried." The man shrugged. "In all seriousness, though, don't hide things like these from me. If this is what you like then I respect that, Y/N."

Your heart fluttered in your chest. Most boys ran, but Reiner was a man, and he was clearly going to stay.

"Maaaaybe we can switch next time. But only if you behave!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

[plush-rabbit]

Fugitives

Word Count: 6.6K

A/N: Diavolo has been on my mind lately and I want to take him out on a date

Summary: Just a nice, little day/night day with Diavolo

-

The Royal Academy of Diavolo looms heavily behind you, the book on your lap is opened, the pages still as the wind has died long ago. You stare at the foreign words, your head still fuzzy and beginning to hurt no matter how long you’ve stared at the words. You’re beginning to believe that the words on the page are part of some elaborate joke that any of the brothers or Solomon have failed to inform you of. The only thing that wrecks that thought is that you’re sure that the angels would have told you something by now.

The stone bench that you rest on is cold, a moss-like substance that creeps around the legs of the bench. The stone once light, ordained with intricate designs that you can never quite follow with your eyes, turns darker, the designs now eroded over time, are still ever present and you think that it might be some sort of demon magic. You frown at your thought and shake your head. Of course it would be demon magic.

Your finger grazes along the page of the book, sticky notes are bright against the paper, your notes written in ink that try to simplify the words You stare at the page, the words blurring together as your mind begins to wander. The moon looms overhead in a kaleidoscope of colors, illuminating the sky and shining onto you.

“You seem troubled,” a voice speaks beside your ear, breath warm and smelling of something sweet.

You jump, snapping the book shut and turning your body to make room from you the unknown stranger. You have a face riddled with horror, your body aflame and you begin to call the name of a brother, the book held tightly in your grasp until you meet the eyes of Lord Diavolo.

You breathe rapidly and his face, one that was no doubt held a pleasant smile falls. He waves his hands in front of him, apology spewing rapidly from lips and it takes a moment to recollect yourself. “Ah,” you smile nervously, wide and strained, “Lord Diavolo, hi.” your smile falls when his smile does and he stands straighter, blocking the rays of the moon from hitting you. “I- It’s my bad. I wasn’t- I should have been paying attention.”

His smile returns and it’s softer, almost pained, his eyes refusing to meet yours. “I’m sure I’ve made it a point that you nor the other exchange students have to refer me as-” he raises his fingers to make air quotations- “‘Lord Diavolo.’”

You chuckle nervously, tension light in the air but still making your face flush and legs bounce nervously. “Yeah, but if I don’t, Lucifer might pop a vein or kill me.” You tilt your head and shrug your shoulders. “It’s kind of his entire thing. You know-” you look at the soon-to-be king and smile politely at him- “rules and all.” The book is still held tightly in your hand and you look down at the cover, clicking your tongue before placing the book inside your bag. “I- uh. School is about to start, right?” You give a quick glance to the demon who continues to stare at you. His expression is quizzical, a furrow between his brows and lips pursed. “Lord- I mean, Diavolo?”

He breaks out of it quickly and you stand, a strap of your backpack sliding over your shoulder, the weight of it pressing into your shoulder. “How are you doing with the curriculum? I’m sure it’s much more different than what you’re used to.” He speaks slowly, testing each word on his tongue as if this- the interaction, the words and all, are new. He catches your guarded expression and adjusts himself. “It’s just that you looked troubled. What was that term that you humans use? A nickel for your thoughts?”

You smile and let out a soft chuckle. “Penny,” you correct. “A penny for your thoughts.”

“Penny,” he repeats. His eyes are on you and they burn. His gaze is strong and you come to realize that this is the few times that you’ve ever had a proper interaction with the Lord. It’s always been interrupted, always filled with the presence of others. Always stiff and formal. “A penny for your thoughts?”

Your hand tightens on the strap of the bag. You glance to the side, unable to decide if you can really worry him with such feeble troubles. You’re sure that he would listen to you, that he would take every word with caution and care, that he wouldn’t dismiss you so quickly. You wet your lips, your teeth grazing against your bottom lip and you think you can hear the voices of Lucifer and Barbatos lingering against a corridor.

You look back to Lord Diavolo and once more to the side. “Hey, uh-” he tilts his head, taking half a step towards you- “do you have anything important to do today?”

He shakes his head no. “Only review papers but when you have Barbatos as a friend, well, that can be done at any time.” His smile stretches, humor laced into his words. “Why? Were you hoping to join?” He almost sounds hopeful and it makes an awful twist at your stomach appear.

“I-” the knot in your stomach pulls taut and you glance up at him- “I was wondering if you wanted to go get something to eat. Like now? Like Akudonald’s or something.”

He brightens immediately. “Really? I’ve been meaning to try it but Barbatos has never been a fan of that type of food and Lucifer always denies going out.” His smile tightens and he looks down at the ground. “Something about being too busy,” he mutters, his eyes returning to yours after a moment. Your heart aches for the Demon Lord and your bag feels heavy. You take a step toward him, the stone of the bench scratching against your pants and he's quick to take your hand into his. As if also knowing what lies beyond a corner- because how could he not with senses like his- he pulls on you quickly, already turning around, hand in hand, ignoring the stray looks of demons and others alike.

Designer shoes click against the concrete, sullying the heel and making sharp noises while your worn shoes slap against the concrete, your body desperately trying to catch up towards his. A strong, heavy hand holds you tightly and you can feel just how fragile you are in his hand. You struggle for breath and soon you are crossing grass, ruining the impeccable lawn under footsteps and slowly, the reality of what you are doing sets in. You laugh, squeezing your hand in his, ignoring the way that your bag hits against your back in an almost painful manner. You’re laughing as you begin to ditch school to go with a prince to a fast food chain.

As if your laughter is infectious, he begins laughing as well, pulling you closer until the ground is nonexistent, the wind harsh against you and you’re struggling to keep up. It’s painful, an awful pain that you know will leave you sore, that will make you regret ever moving. But it’s fun. It’s freeing to just run hand in hand, to ditch school and laugh and for a moment, the worry of school and assignments, leaves you as you run with Diavolo though the school grounds. Never one to break rules- at least not under the watchful eye of Lucifer and the brothers- this is freeing, allowing yourself to break free from the tight hold they have on you and go and explore- even if it is just a simple lunch.

Grass turns into pavement, the pace slows down and your feet hurt, stinging above the harsh pavement. You’re doubled over, hands on your knees as you try to breath through your gasps. Your laughter is breathless, wheezing as you rise and let out a shaky laugh, lungs burning and mouth dry. You stare up at him, your body warm as he gives you a smile, not even the slightest hint of sweat on his brow and you scoff. The school blazer feels tight on your body, the dress shirt underneath sticking to your body and when you turn back, the school is far from where you both stand.

“Not tired?” You ask, rising, rolling your shoulders and adjusting your bag. He shakes his head no. “Figures- demon stamina and all,” you add when he gives you a quizzical look. “Anyways, now that we’ve escaped school, we’re technically fugitives.”

He laughs at your comment and you can feel pride swell in your chest. You’ve always been a fan of making people laugh, to hear them enjoy a joke- it’s something you take great pleasure in. “Fugitives, huh?” He looms above you, broad shoulders and piercing eyes that seem to glow under the moonlight and yet his laugh is loud and joyous, brash and full of something sweet. “I’ve never been a fugitive before. What does that entail?”

You smile at him and take a step closer to him, running a clammy hand through the ends of your hair. “Well Diavolo, that means we can do whatever we want-” you raise a finger and your smile narrows, turning kittenish, a slit of your teeth peeking between your lips- “so long as we don’t get caught.” You point your finger at him, your smile growing. “It’ll be fun, I promise! We can do whatever you want to do and-”

“You know-” he leas down, face relaxed, a slow smile appearing on his face- “as future king, I can technically do what I want without consequences.”

Your smile falls. You hadn’t thought of that. Perhaps you’ve been spending too much time with the others, so used to having to sneak around and keep secrets that you’ve failed to realize that you are standing on the outskirts of school with the future king. You open your mouth, ready to apologize for wasting his time or for- for something. Heat rises to your face- this was a horrible, impulsive idea.

You fail to realize the worry that crosses the future king’s face as your own expression falls. He can sense something negative brewing inside of you- something anxious and fear riddled and he forces a smile, standing straighter and in an attempt to remedy the situation, he speaks. “But I’ve never played fugitive. You know, if we get to do things that I’m not able to do, well the list will be short. I’ve been dying to try Akudonald’s. Will-” he meets your eyes, and there’s a skip in his chest- “Will you accompany me to Akudonald’s?”

When you smile brightly and nod your head rapidly, he lets out a sigh of relief. He walks beside you, knuckles brushing against each other and despite doing many dangerous acts in the past, this simple act of touching you is enough to send adrenaline spiking throughout his body. He listens to you speak, the way you talk about fast food chains from your realm and he’s delighted to hear about. He loves human culture, he loves the entire enigma that people- that humans- pose and while it might not have been loved at first sight, it was most definitely something at first for him. The young lord was intrigued by you, intrigued by the human that you are, the need to befriend, to stay close to somebody, the need to be alive and the excitement that shines in your eyes through the simplest things. It was the idea of you that he loved and then as he continued to invade parts of your life and you continued to live your life, to make the forced small talk with him, to laugh at a horrible joke he once read in a book. He knows he feels some type of attraction towards you and whether it’s romantic or a deep sense of platonic, he knows that it’s there and he doesn’t want the feeling to ever leave him.

You talk and you spiral from topic to topic, telling a story fast, speech slurring together and words being stuttered and he listens to you intently. He ignores the eyes on him as he walks through the city, knuckles against yours, trying to ignore the desperate, touch-starved part of him that wants to hold your hand in his. You talk and you talk and he listens until you both stand in the parking lot of the long awaited fast food chain.

“You know-” he pulls his hand away from you and he knits his hands together- “I’ve never been here before.” Something settles in his stomach and he hasn't felt something as intense in so long. He thinks he might die but it doesn’t fit in the schedule that Barbatos has prepared for him.

“Nervous?” Your voice is small and he can only nod. He doesn’t know why and he hopes that you don’t ask. He can hear you hum and he feels so silly. He’s a prince. He shouldn’t be nervous for a meal that won’t even make a scratch in his pocket and yet- “You know,” you voice startles him out of his own thoughts, “I’m always scared of trying new things. Even in the Human Realm. There are things that I won’t try due to how new they are. A lot of people are like that. I- You know-” he can see your reflection look up at him and the way your hand twitches at your side- “when I had to eat fried bat and this one stew with like eyes in it and a tail-” his eyes widen and he interrupts what he’s sure is an encouraging speech.

“Fried-” he frowns. “I was sure I had requested for the brothers to give you human food. Just something to start your adjustment here before you got used to all the food here.”

Your frown is deep and he can’t help but let out a soft laugh. “I-” you tilt your head and roll your lips. “I- You know, they are so lucky that I love them.” You shake your head. “I’m going to abuse my pact power.” His smile widens and he lets out another laugh, louder and enough for him to double over and feel his face flush.

“There are plenty of times where I’ve caught Lucifer doing something-” his eyes dart to the side- “rather something un-Lucifer-like. I’m sure I could send you a few pictures.” His smile is devilish and he enjoys the sound of your laugh.

“If you have any of Lucifer sleeping or in a bathing suit, I’d be extremely grateful.” You leave his side, going to grab the metallic door handle. You turn to him, gesturing with a jerk of your head towards the establishment. “Come on then.”

His steps are quick, walking the few feet that separate the both of you. The door is held open for him, a friendly gesture by you, allowing him to leave the fresh air of outside and enter the restaurant with cold air, the smell of grease faint in the air. He stands beside you, eyes on the menu.

“What are you-”

“I think I might get fried devil chicken and maybe a Little Devil’s Slushy Soda.” You turn to look up at him. “I’ve had one before. You could try the burgers but just remember to ask for no pickles.” His eyes widen and he's looking at you, his mouth parted to ask a question, only to be interrupted when you continue to talk. “You know, I’m surprised that out of all the foods that you have here, the one that Devildom shares with the Human Realm is pickles.”

“I’ll- uh-” he clears his throat and looks back up at the menu- “I’ll get the same as you except for the drink. I think I’ll get an Orange Acid.” He can see you nod in the corner of his eyes. “Should we-”

“I invited you out, I’ll pay.” You move to the front of the register and he’s quick to clear his throat and stand before you, taking in the attention of the attendant, eyes wide and a flicker of their tail, the slightest hint of fear emanating off of them. “Dia?”

His smile widens at the nickname. “Nonsense-” he turns his head towards you- “you’ve already invited me for a day out, the least I could do to repay you is pay for a simple meal.” His smile is sharp, eager to please as he turns back to the demon worker, their body stiff. “Why don’t you go and find a place to sit? I’ll take the food to you in just a second.” And with that, the prince turns and orders the food, his voice clear and precise, stiff and simple in his words and you can only shrug. You are in no place to argue with him.

You walk to sit at a booth, the bench solid underneath you, the table cold and free of any mess. You sit patiently, your legs bouncing underneath and hands meeting together in an awkward hand hold. It’s only until then that you realize you can remove the bag. Once free, your body is empty, the bag beside you, the blazer on your body scratching at your neck and you’re quick to remove it and stuff it unceremoniously inside your bag. You roll the sleeve of your dress shirt, adjust the collar and lean against the back of the bench, looking up and smiling when Diavolo holds a tray of food, the drinks carried by another worker with pale skin, ears pointed and lowered in an almost fearful way.

Diavolo sits in front of you, the plastic tray clicking against the table and the drinks are lowered, onto the table. The demon speaks lowly under their breath and gives a small bow before turning around and leaving the both of you to your meal. You give a roll of your eyes before turning around and grabbing at the small carrier box that holds your food. You pull your drink closer, the heaviness of it inside and pop your straw. Diavolo follows suit and takes a careful bite from his own chicken.

Even as he eats, he’s proper, holding the chicken with a plastic fork, taking careful bites. Granted you do the same, but only because the seasoning of it would burn your hands. How it doesn’t burn your mouth, you have no idea.

It’s quiet, the only sounds exchanged from between the both of you are the crunching of the chicken and the slurps from the drinks. It’s all so awkward. “So,” you start, bringing the straw to your pursed lips, the cold drink heavy on your tongue, “how come you don’t just come here on your own? Like without Barbatos or Lucifer? You are the future king-” your eyes trail on the condensation that lingers on your thumb- “I don’t understand why you have to wait for others permission.”

He’s quiet for a moment, his hands still, the food untouched and when you look up at him, you wonder if you’ve insulted him in some sort of way.

You frown, taking the final bite from your chicken. “I didn’t mean anything bad by it. I was-”

“No, no,” he’s quick to say, giving you a wave of his hand. “I understand. I-” he furrows his brows and his jaw gives the faintest twitch- “I am allowed to do what I please but I suppose I would rather not do things alone.” The silence lingers for a second after his statement before clearing his throat and returning to eat. “You know-” he places his hand in front of his mouth and talks- “I’m glad that I was able to try this. It’s actually quite good. You’ve had this before?”

You nod. “Yeah, I come here with Mammon or Levi. Beel likes it here too but the servings aren’t quite what he’s used to so he goes to Hell’s Kitchen.” Your foot begins to tap, your hand going to hold the drink as you pull it close, narrowing your eyes when the condensation outside of the drink drips onto your pants. “Neither of the others like it. Solo prefers to cook his own food-” you smile when Diavolo grimaces at the mention of the sorcerer's food- “and Simeon doesn’t want Luke to eat too much fast food. Which I’m confused by since I always assumed Angels never really faced any consequences of what they ate. They’re like ethereal-” you gesture with your drink, pointing it towards the demon across from you- “cholesterol shouldn’t be a thing with them.”

He smiles softly and shakes his head, putting down the plastic utensils, grabbing a napkin to clean his hands. “It’s not about cholesterol.” The drink is bitter against his tongue. “It’s more about sin and all that. Temperance playing part to not overstuff yourself, the avoidance of gluttony and taking what you want in excess. Angels are very particular about those sorts of things. You must have taken notice how Luke always offers the first batch to anyone else but him, how he gives and refuses to eat more unless offered or split with someone else.” Diavolo smiles at you, it’s tight, not quite reaching his eyes and there’s a feeling inside of you to press further. “While Luke is quite a good angel, he’s still young. He can be easily swayed with just the right words. Simeon is merely protecting the young one.” He fails to realize the heaviness of the conversation, only interested in sharing information with you, taking another sip from his drink and meeting your eyes, which are wide and almost fearful. He smiles gently. “You have nothing to fear. Luke won’t fall, Simeon is an old angel, he’ll take proper care of Luke.” His eyes glance down to your plate. “I’m done. Would you like to leave now?”

“I-” your eyes widen and you take a deep breath, releasing it slowly- “Yeah. Yeah, let’s uh, go.” You rise slowly from the booth, bag in hand and you wait beside the table, watching as he rises from the seat. “You got anything else you want to do? We can go to a store or get a snack?” Diavolo holds the door open for the both of you and you walk beside him, pulling out a bottle of hand sanitizer and cleaning your hands. You hold it out for him and he tilts his head, slowly putting his hands under the nozzle. He mimics your own motions. He brings his hands to his nose and takes a sniff. You smile at the reaction. “It’s peach scented,” you tell him.

“Ah, of course.” He lowers his hands, eyes glancing at your bag that digs into your shoulders. “Would you like for me to hold your bag?”

“Hm? Oh, no, it’s fine. It just has a notebook and my blazer stuffed inside, it’s lighter than it looks.” You smile up at him, waving your hand in front of yourself. “Thank you for the offer, though,” you chirp, pausing for a moment to look at his arm and with a deep breath, you hope what you are deciding to do is something that you are allowed to do. You link your arm with his, holding your own hand and he bends his arm, holding his hand in his, keeping his pace slow to have you beside him.

“Do you think we can stop by Madam Scream’s? I’ve been dying to try the skeletal muffins. I heard they have quite an exquisite taste, something akin to eating a soul if I heard correctly. But then again, nothing tastes quite as good as the real thing.” He looks down at you eagerly, his smile wide and a bounce in his step. “What do you say?”

“You’ve-” you furrow your brows. “I- Of course. I’ve been meaning to try to coffin cookies that they have there but,” you hesitate and purse your lips, “souls?” You look up at him. “You’ve eaten souls before?”

He blinks owlishly at you, only to realize what exactly he said and to who. He clears his throat, a nervous smile on his lips as he corrects himself. “Old souls, of course. Hell can get a bit too packed every once in a while so there’s often a day reserved to let demons and others alike to a- how should I put it? Go hunting?” Even he sounds unsure of his wording. Worry knots in your stomach and it must be evident across your face. “You mustn't worry. I have you and the others under protection. No one will harvest your soul anytime soon.”

You click your tongue against the roof of your mouth, slightly relieved but also slightly horrified that that was an actual fear that had never occurred to you before. “I- Thanks Dia-” your hand pats against your other. “Thanks for the clarification.”

“Of course!” His tone is back to his chipper self. “I’m doing my best to keep you happy while you spend your time here. I’m hoping that as time goes on, your voice will prove useful in how humans interact with us demons. I’m quite aware of the-” he pauses for a moment- “reputation that us demons have gathered. But I’m positive with you and Solomon here- along with Simeon and Luke- that that can all change, so if you ever need anything else, please feel free to recommend things to either Barbatos or I.”

“You know-” you look up at him, and he tilts his head downward, his eyes a shimmering gold that under the moonlight of the sky, seem to dance with hints of honey and intense devotion as they hold your gaze, only to look away after a second- “sometimes I feel intimidated by everything around here.” You can feel his attention return to you, and you look forward, ignoring the stares of the wandering demons, tightening your hold around him ever so slightly. “Shocker, I know,” you smile sarcastically, letting it fall for a moment afterwards. “But Devildom is so big, I feel like I haven’t explored it in full ever since I’ve been here. If I do have to recommend something to you Lord-”

“Diavolo,” he reminds you, his hand tightening around his own, eyes glancing down to yours, meeting your eyes for a moment that makes him unable to breathe. “Dia is also fine,” he mutters. “I quite like the nickname.”

You smile up at him and he’s drowning, digging his nails into the back of his hand, trying to resist the urge to cover your hand with his. He’s unsure where the line of the friendship is drawn, where the friendship can begin without worry or fear. You’ve taken the first step with linking arms and he is unable to do anything more than just stare occasionally at you and let worry nip at him.

“Dia,” you correct yourself. “If I’m able to recommend something to you Dia- Oh!” You press yourself closer to him when a demon walks too closely- something bold and an act of defiance to you or to him- he isn’t sure, but he’s sure he’ll remember the smug face. He’s sure he’ll remember the way you smell of orange blossom and lilac. “As I was saying. Dia if I could make a suggestion, it would be that-” you arm tightens around his- “we can spend a bit more time together. You always seem so busy and I- I know that we aren’t exactly close but you still offer the castle as a safe haven for me and I would appreciate knowing you a bit better before wanting to take advantage of your hospitality.” Your fingers dance against the side of his elbow, pulling against his coat jacket. Your breaths are shallow, your heart beating quickly and he can smell the nerves on you. He allows himself to feel a bit of joy in knowing that he can give you the type of feelings that you give to him.

Your arms leave his when you approach the bakery and he already misses your touch. “Of course, we can.” He watches himself in the reflection, trying to find a flaw in his appearance but unable to. “Whenever you wish to spend time with me, just send me a message.” His hand holds the beautifully crafted door handle and he turns to look at you. “I’ll drop whatever I’m doing if it means we can another day like this.” And with that, he opens the door, allowing you to enter, followed closely by him, his hand ghosting over your lower back as he nudges you inside the bakery that smells sweetly of death and bitter with the scent of candy.

-

You sit on a worn, stone bench. The rock faded and pale, the designs once intricate now nothing more than grooves along your fingertips. Beside you, Diavolo sits, his thigh against yours, a careful maneuver as he hands you your own treat, and carefully holds his in his hand.

It’s quiet as you both eat your sweets, the moon high against the sky, the colors now different in the sky, darker and cooler, the stars brighter, against the sky. The fountain in front of you is monotonous, the same design spat from the nozzles and splashing against the water on the lower level. Demons pass by, groups walking together, singular demons walking across the small park, and there’s a heaviness that sweeps across your body. Something so bitter and making your throat tight, the cookie, once sweet, is now bitter on your tongue and you hold the box on your lap, the cookie forced down your throat by your own hand, as tears prick your eyes. You swallow the cookie with a heavy feeling, holding the box in your hands, nails digging into the cardboard.

“It’s late,” you mutter, looking at the splashing water. “I’m surprised Barbatos hasn’t contacted you by now.”

“I put my D.D.D. on silent.” You can feel his eyes on you. There’s a soft crunching from him, the tension thick in the air. “I’m surprised you haven’t been contacted by the brothers either.”

You shrug. “I think they knew that I wasn’t feeling well. They must think I’m with Solomon and the others.” You turn to him, your fingertips nudging open the box of sweets. “Would you like a cookie?” You grab one, an oddly perfect circle, fingers pinched around it carefully as you offer it Diavolo. “They’re really good. A bit sweet and soft.” Your eyes soften. “Oddly enough, it reminds me of a chocolate chip cookie without the chocolate or chip.”

He takes the treat from you, bringing it to his lips and taking a bite from it, crumbs against his lower lip until his tongue peeks out and swipes it away. “Penny for your thoughts?” He takes notice of how your smile falters and then returns, the almost stiff, forced way that the corners of your lips turn and it leaves him with a sense of dread.

You turn from him, looking back at the fountain, the number of people slowly dwindling as time continues. “I have to be honest Lord Diavolo-” he frowns at the usage of his title- “the reason I invited you out was because I didn’t want to go to class. I-” you take a deep breath and in turn, exhale for a moment too long- “I just wanted to say sorry. For you know-” you look back at him shameful- “using you, I guess.”

It’s silent for just a second before he lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his head and placing the cookie down on the lid of the muffin container. He can feel your leg jerk against his and he waves his hand, eyes shut tightly as his snickering comes to a slow stop, only a few bursts breaking through. “I have to say, I’m surprised you’re still an honest person even after living with demons for so long.” His smile, playful and sharp, turns softer, teeth glinting between his parted lips. “That’s something I admire strongly about you humans- how resilient you are.” He’s slow to place the unfinished treat inside the container of muffins. The box clicks and scratches, the treat placed where a muffin lies and he pauses for a moment before carefully grabbing on in his hand, gentle to pick up the baked treat in his hand, before gesturing it towards you. He gives a nod of his head, prompting you to take it. When you take it, your fingertips brush against his and he’s almost remorseful to let go. “Truth be told, I had an inkling of a thought that’s why you invited me out. You seemed troubled in the courtyard when I had approached you.” He watches as you take a careful bite, your lips parted against the rounded top before coming to a soft close. “I also must admit that I had taken advantage of that. Rather than talking to you and your avoidance of class, I had taken an opportunity to go out and spend time with you.” Your gaze on him pushes him to continue further. “You see, I have wanted to go to Akudonald’s for some time now and not many others do and I don’t get along with the other brothers as well as I do with Lucifer. Solomon is rather particular about the food that he eats and Simeon and Luke prefer to not go out to eat fast food unless it’s a special occasion-” he glances at you- “sin and all. But you- I-” he sighs and looks at the fountain that you once stared at- “Everyone else gets to be your friend, everyone else gets to spend time with you and I suppose when I saw you alone and troubled, I took advantage of that.” He scratches his neck, nails pulling against the sensitive skin and his chest feels tight.

Your container opens and he watches you carefully place the unfinished treat inside. It’s a tight fit but it’s placed inside. “I guess,” you start, edging closer to him, letting your thigh rest against his once more, “we’re both guilty fugitives.” You smile at him, your hands slowly creeping towards him, your fingertips light on his burning skin, and he’s swallowing nervously, turning his hand to allow you to thread your fingers into his hand.

“I don’t think we’re cut out for this fugitive lifestyle,” he murmurs, golden eyes glued to how your hand fits into his.

“I think we are,” your fingertips ghost above his knuckles and with a gentle pull, you both rise. “We just happen to be fugitives with feelings- guilty feelings.” You smile up at him, and despite only ever knowing an artificial sun, he’s sure that you smile is the one brighter, something warm and forgiving, understanding to love and quick to accept. He’s sure that your smile is the closest he’ll get to sunlight itself. “You okay with the hand holding? I-” you bite your bottom lip, letting it roll between your teeth and he squeezes your hand tighter, leaving pale imprints on your skin- “I like holding hands.”

His smile widens and he nods vigorously. “I don’t mind it. I’m actually quite happy to hold your hand.” He’s still for a moment, standing before the bench. Carefully, he goes to hold the box in your hands, placing it in his hands, above his own box. “It’s a bit late into the evening, as much as I have enjoyed our time together-” he walks forward, pulling lightly on your hand- “I should return you back to the House of Lamentation.”

He calls your name softly, a whisper from him that you have never heard of from the jovial demon that stands beside you, hands interlaced together. “I really did enjoy our time together today. I-” he pauses for a moment, gripping your hand a bit tighter- “I had fun. I hope we can do this again. You know,” his voice tenses for a moment, “hang out.” Words stick and die in his throat. There’s so much more that he wishes to imply with those few words. A future king and he’s worried of how he might come off. A bitter smile graces his face, his face flushing and he’s grateful that the moon above isn’t as bright as the others.

“I’d like to hang out with you as well,” you reply, edging closer to him, until your arms brush by each other. “I think for the next time-” your thumbs brushes against his hand, leaving him shivering in its wake, a phantom touch unlike any that he’s known before, makes him warm and cold all at once- “we can explore a bit more of Devildom. If you’d like to, of course.”

Eager as always, his reply comes quickly, heart on his sleeve and emotion evident on his words. “Of course, I would. You name the time and place. I’ll drop whatever I’m doing for you.” He’d do whatever you would want him to, pact or no pact, he’d get on his knees and cup your face in his hands, giving you whatever you desired if it meant you could still be with him. “I mean it, you know. You mustn’t worry if you’re bothering me.”

The gates to the House of Lamentation creak open, the cobbled floor beneath you is rough and scraped from years of use. The trees loom overhead, branches casting shadows that give you an excuse to hold tighter onto him. The walk is silent, hands held, words spoken and shared, and when you stop in front of the door, shadows dance underneath. You hold his hand, unable to let go, wanting to hold it for a moment longer before you part. Inside you can hear muffled voices, and with a heavy sigh, he lets go before you. The box of sweets is placed in your empty hands, and you look up at him, eyes wide and lips parted. The moonlight that shines onto him makes him appear that much more otherworldly. His tongue wets his lips and you can feel your breath shudder in your chest.

He lowers himself, pushing away stray hair from your forehead, lips soft on your burning skin as he presses a feather of a kiss onto you. Your body stiffens and when he pulls away, his smile is almost sad. He turns and he’s barely down a step when you choke out his name. On the other side of the door, the voices cease. He turns to you, and you grab his hand, looking at him for a brief second, royal eyes that are heavy with the glow of hesitation stare at your hand that grabs his. His gaze doesn’t falter as the palm of his hand is pressed against your lips. He lets his hand fall to his side, watching as you give him a goodbye, telling him to message you when he’s gotten home- having him nod his head in a promise and you enter your home, leaving him standing under the pale light of the moon, his hand rising, and with his palm slowly cupping over his mouth, his lips pressing gently against where you kissed him, he walks home.

[forzalando]

royally screwed | fw | pt. two

pairing: prince!fred x princess!reader word count: 2.4k warnings: cursing, mentions of meals/food, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers a/n: hello friends! happy valentine’s day!!💛the long awaited part two is here and i hope you all enjoy!😊bonus points if you catch the subtle hp references in this chapter hahaha thank you to @spacexcowgirl​ for beta reading, i love you dearly!! you can read part one here

summary: Prince Frederick Weasley of Burrow was a twin, but unfortunately, at least in his mind, he was born the eldest twin, meaning it was his duty to inherit the kingdom. Since the young age of ten, Fred knew that he was to marry Princess Y/N Y/L/N of Diagon, and over the years they’ve both come to dread the day. With the eve of their wedding closely approaching, their disdain for each other begins to worry their respective families. However, there is a very fine line between love and hate.

Y/N awoke the next morning and immediately recounted the previous day’s events; she could feel the puffiness in her face and eyes from the tears shed after her Mother left her room. She had hoped that their conversation would go differently, but it was done and there was nothing left she could say regarding the matter.

A sharp knock on Y/N’s chamber door had her jumping up and crossing the room faster than her feet would carry her. She stumbled a bit, almost crashing into the door before pulling it open, only to see the most peculiar sight.

Frederick Weasley, with his siblings stood behind him, although George was standing rather close so that he could pinch his brother’s ear.

“Well,” Ginny goaded, “go on then, you arse.”

Fred turned swiftly to shoot his sister a glare, but George’s grip on his ear had him wincing in pain.

“You better get going or I swear I’ll rip it off,” George grumbled, struggling to hide the jesting smile creeping on his face.

“Fine, fine,” Fred huffed. “Princess Y/N, I would like to apologize for my behavior last night. It was entirely unacceptable and I hope that you can find it in your impossibly sma-”

Ginny quickly stomped on Fred’s foot, interrupting what Y/N was sure would be an insult.

“Pardon me, your impossibly large heart, to forgive me. I was also wondering if you would care to join me for breakfast in the drawing room.”

George promptly let go of Fred’s ear, but not without one final yank, and the entire clan of Weasley siblings looked at Y/N expectantly, awaiting her answer with fervor.

“You must be absolutely mad, Frederick Weasley,” she scoffed, folding her arms across her chest in defiance. “After your attitude last night, which you had for no reason, I might add, and you come knocking on my door to ask if I want to have breakfast with you? I don’t want to see your face unless I have to!”

“I’m trying, Y/N! You said that the least I could was try, so here I am, offering to spend time with you when I’d rather lick the floor in the foyer.”

“Well, then, feel free to go scrub the floors with your tongue because I will not join you for a meal today or any other day!”

Fred stalked away with no objections from his siblings, who were all laughing at Y/N’s quip. She had a satisfied smile on her face as well, but it quickly fell when she averted her gaze to the three other Weasley siblings.

“Now what exactly did you think that was going to accomplish?” Y/N spoke with a, mostly, playful glare to the three standing before her.

“Honestly, we were hoping a bit that you wouldn’t answer the door. Mum made us drag him down here,” George answered with a shrug of his shoulders.

“But, now that we are here,” Ginny said excitedly, “will you have breakfast with us?”

Y/N smiled softly; she could never say no to spending time with her only friends.

“Let me get dressed and I’ll meet you…where should I meet you?”

“The drawing room…” Ron mumbled, hoping Y/N wouldn’t recall that Fred wanted to take his breakfast there as well.

“You three are insufferable,” Y/N laughed, “however, I’ll be there in ten. Hopefully he will be gone by then.”

Y/N gently shut her door and quickly threw on a dress and her day slippers; her mother would absolutely have a fit if she saw the disheveled state she was in, but Y/N simply couldn’t care.

After a quick glance in the mirror, Y/N hurried through the castle corridors that she had come to know so well and made it to the drawing room in record time. To her delight, Frederick was nowhere to be seen.

“Good Morning, dear,” Queen Molly said warmly from her seat. “Have you by chance seen Fred this morning?”

Y/N heard the quiet snickering of Ron and George and then a hushed “shut it” that could only have come from Ginny.

“Oh, yes, Queen Molly, he stopped by my chambers to apologize. Very out of character for him, I wonder if someone slipped something into his morning tea.”

Molly Weasley hummed lightly, taking the slightly sarcastic tone of Y/N’s voice to mean that things hadn’t gone as she directed.

“That’s lovely, dear, maybe you’ll actually have a civil conversation in the gardens.”

Y/N set down her tea slowly, trying not to act shocked because she had no knowledge of a walk in the gardens.

“The gardens? I didn’t know anything about the gardens,” Y/N mused inquisitively.

“That’s where Fred is right now, I told him you’d be along in a few minutes. He even looked a bit excited,” Molly teased.

Y/N snorted inelegantly and immediately covered it with a cough; she rose from the table and looked pleadingly at George, hoping he could come up with some form of an excuse that would save her from time spent with Frederick, but George refused to look at her and continued eating his breakfast unbothered.

“I’ll go meet him now, Queen Molly. I’m sure he’s awfully busy so we can make this short,” Y/N said with a smile.

“Fred is free all day, I cleared his schedule, dear.”

“Brilliant,” she grimaced.

With a half-hearted wave, she left the drawing room and begrudgingly walked towards the gardens, smiling politely at each person she passed. Even if her future husband did not care for her, Y/N took comfort in knowing that his family and the people in the castle did; she hoped it would make the rest of her life tolerable.

All too soon, Y/N felt the sunshine on her face as she stepped into the magnificent palace gardens. She could spot Prince Frederick’s fiery hair a mile away; he was standing near the rose bushes twirling a yellow one between his long fingers.

The rustling of the grass between Y/N’s feet caused Fred to turn around to find the source of the noise.

He stalled a bit; even though he despised the Princess of Diagon, he could never deny that she was breathtakingly beautiful. Her hair was unkempt, a soft pink, cotton gown swished around her legs as she stalked toward him, and her face was set in a scowl but even the worst grimace could not distract from her captivating eyes.

It was entirely infuriating, and it made Fred want to hate her even more, but some intrinsic force wouldn’t allow him.

“What are you staring at?” Y/N asked, her eyebrow raising.

“Nothing,” Fred replied with a shake of his head. “I’m just thinking of all the ways I’d rather spend my morning.”

“Well, it seemed like you were staring at me. Do it again and I’ll push you into the rose bushes, I don’t care if you are the future King.”

Fred turned his head and tried not to crack a smile, but failed miserably as the corner of his mouth quirked up involuntarily.

“Let’s get this over with, Y/N, can your stubby legs keep up?”

“It’s not my fault you shot up like a bloody bean pole; you went from stumpy to looking like someone sewed tree limbs together and animated them.”

“Most women like tall men.”

“I like tall men, Frederick, I just don’t like you.”

A stunned silence fell over the two royals, only the sounds of the rustling leaves and nearby animals could be heard.

“I suppose that’s why you like Prince Cedric, then?”

“Beg your pardon?” Y/N’s eyes widened, confused at the sudden interrogation.

“Your conversation with your Mother last night, how you begged her to marry him instead. Or my brother. Or that horrid Malfoy.”

“You had no right – that was a private conversation. How dare you eavesdrop on my personal business? Every time I think you have a shred of decency you prove me wrong, Frederick Weasley.”

Fred stepped in front of the Princess, blocking her path and preventing her from walking on.

“Prove you wrong? I had come to your room to apologize when I heard you plotting with your Mother to run off with someone else and disrespect my family.”

“I would never disrespect your family. They’ve never been anything but good and kind to me, the last thing I would ever want to do is hurt them. I haven’t the slightest idea how you’re related to any of them.”

“Oh, I know, you have them all wrapped around your little finger,” Fred scoffed.

“I’m not going to stand here and fight with you, Frederick, I don’t have the energy. Can we please just keep moving and we can tell your Mother we had a wonderful time and learned so much about each other.”

Y/N stepped around Fred, lightly grabbing his wrist to pull him along through the endless rows of flowers.

“She’ll probably quiz us and you don’t even know my favorite color,” Fred griped.

“It’s purple, I think,” Y/N blurted. “I overheard you telling your Mum years ago that you wanted purple frosting on some dessert. I figured that meant it was your favorite.”

“And you remembered?”

“There aren’t a lot of things I forget about the people in my life, Frederick. If it’s important to you, I’ll remember.”

“But you don’t care about me, why did you even bother?”

Y/N sighed and shook her head before turning to look at Fred, shielding her eyes from the sun.

“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t hate you. I don’t particularly like you, maybe in a different life we’d actually be friends, but I don’t hate you. I don’t hate anyone.”

Fred realized this was the longest they’d gone without arguing in years, and it was barely one tenth of a conversation. He turned his head slightly to watch Y/N, taking in the way she gazed lovingly at the surrounding flora, and noticed her eyes linger a bit longer every so often.

“Yellow,” Fred mumbled.

“What was that?” Y/N asked.

“You look longer at the yellow flowers. Yellow is your favorite color.”

Y/N smiled softly, the same smile she’d given Fred when she had arrived the day before but it was infinitely more sincere.

“If you were like this all the time, you wouldn’t be so bad Frederick.”

“Who says I’m not?”

Y/N rolled her eyes and this time Fred could not contain himself; he laughed loudly, and the sound triggered a fluttering of sorts in the Princess’s chest. They continued their walk, chattering idly and the Prince even picked a blooming yellow rose and delicately handed it to his Princess.

“I really did want to apologize last night, you know,” Fred assured. “I didn’t have any reason to be so rude when you arrived, I guess it was just…habit. We have a way of getting under each other’s skin.”

“Apology accepted, for your rudeness yesterday, of course. But, you owe me another.”

“Another?”

“Yes, for eavesdropping on me and my Mother.”

“That conversation involved me, I hardly think it’s one I shouldn’t be aware of if you’re trying to finagle your way out of our betrothal.”

“It may involve you, but it was a private conversation.”

“That involved me.”

“My God, I’ve said it before but truly every time I think you can redeem yourself, you do or say something completely asinine. Do you have any manners?”

“You were talking about me, I felt I had a right to listen!”

Y/N groaned loudly in annoyance, drawing the attention of the nearby guards.

“I don’t even believe you wanted to apologize, you had the chance this morning and just insulted me like you always do! Every decent part of you is nothing but an act!”

“You don’t even know me,” Fred seethed.

“No, I don’t, but it’s because you won’t let me!”

“You’ve never even tried, don’t attempt to play me for a fool, Y/N.”

“Well, I’m trying now. I’m trying now and still all we can do is fight.”

The two stood toe to toe, breathing heavily and staring into each other’s eyes. After a few moments, Y/N looked away and sighed deeply. It sounded almost dejected, Fred realized, rather than the anger he had expected.

“Go ahead of me back to the castle, please, I’d like to actually enjoy the rest of the walk.”

“I don’t have to take orders from – ”

“You’ll do as I say, Frederick Weasley,” Y/N snapped.

Fred wanted to argue; God, did he want to argue with her until he was blue in the face, but something about the tone of her voice frightened him a bit. So, he scoffed and stalked back to the castle, swinging his fists by his sides and gritting his teeth.

He passed by his twin, giving George a half-hearted wave before entering the castle. It wasn’t hard to sense the tone of what had transpired, and George shook his head and took off running towards the gardens to find Y/N.

“Oi! What did he do this time?” George shouted as he slowed to a stop in front of Y/N.

“Just the usual. Acting like a pompous prick that can do no wrong. He was nice for two minutes and then refused to apologize for eavesdropping last night on a conversation between me and my Mother!”

George rolled his eyes and raked a hand down his face, massaging his temples in preparation for the headache that his brother always managed to give him.

“Y/N, you know he’s not malicious, he’s just an idiot sometimes,” George offered.

“I appreciate you defending him but at the moment it’s going in one ear and out the other, Georgie.”

He laughed and slung an arm around the Princess’s shoulders, joining her on the remainder of her walk through the gardens. He noticed Y/N twirling a yellow rose around and every so often lifting it to inhale its sweet scent.

“Stealing flowers from our gardens, eh?” George jested, bumping his hip into Y/N.

“Frederick picked it for me, actually,” she mumbled.

“Well, that’s sweet. You two can get along, is what I’m seeing and hearing.”

“It was a momentary lapse of judgment,” Y/N sighed, before throwing the perfect rose to the ground and ensuring her slipper crushed the delicate petals.

When they were good and flattened into the Earth, she swore she felt an ache in her chest.

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[saphirered]

HIIII! It's me again (Eldritch knight reader) sorry I kinda dipped out but I hope you are having a great day! I was wondering if you could do one last request for that mini series of requests, where Essek finally asks reader on a real date and it's going great (Knight could notice some figures following them *cough* M9+verin *cough*??) there's some flirting/teasing but sadly the date comes to an end and reader walks essek home, they say their goodbyes for the night but not before reader finally kisses Essek and whispers a goodnight!

Hi! Welcome back. Now of course this wouldn't be me if halfway through writing I realised this was turning way too long so it'll be a two-parter again to keep it readable. Hope you don't mind. Any way, here's the first part so I hope you enjoy! 😘

-

A long day of disasters with the Nein returning just in time to be thrust into more relentless hours of study with Essek wasn’t exactly how you envisioned to spend your day and luckily for you Essek is a merciful soul, when it comes to you that is. Seeing how battered and bruised you were, and mentally exhausted he refused to let you touch his precious tomes or even scribble a single note on paper. He had even gone as far as making said smaller items disappear into the nothingness. Damn wrist pocket spell. Essek was determined. You needed rest. He’d make sure you got it.

So instead of hours upon hours spent at Essek’s home he opted for staying with you retreating to the upstairs of the Xhorhaus and finding the both of you a comfy spot to spend your time in a more relaxed environment. Essek sits, back against the tree while you lay sprawled across the floor next to his outstretched legs eyes closed as the wizard reads to you. He may not have allowed you to read for yourself as to not overwork yourself but the compromise you convinced him to was agreeable. More than agreeable if you’re honest.

It’s no secret you like spending time together as you do so a lot. You may be a little more affectionate with each other than say for example with Caleb or Jester. It doesn’t go unnoticed Essek likes you, if anything the man’s made it pretty clear and vice versa. Neither of you have just ever acted on it. With everything going on in your lives, how could you? You’re a ragtag adventurer with no allegiance to kingdom or country. He’s the bloody spymaster of the Dynasty. It’s not exactly a conventional prospect of a future, nor is it likely to succeed with the kind of lives you live. Could you really afford that kind of struggle? Maybe, if you were willing to take the risk but lately things have been hectic and this moment of relaxation beneath the tree at the top of this tower is the first moment of peace either of you have known in a long time.

You swear, you’re paying attention. You might still have to reread the whole book again as you’re just entranced by the sound of Essek’s voice. The man could make anything sound interesting. Give him those pages from that Iva lady back at the Chastity’s Nook in Zadash and Essek could make even that sound like a master piece. Though in hindsight, maybe best not as you think he might not be able to get past the first few sentences himself. The cringe.

“Are you still listening?” Essek’s reading voice breaks in favour of the question as he watches you drift off with a smile on your face. He’s almost afraid to ask the question but is unsure if that’s because you’ve grown tired or the subject bores you too much.

“Hm?” You perk up turning your head to the side and looking at the wizard. The exhaustion is written over your face but doesn’t diminish the content smile you present.

“Perhaps that is enough for the day?” Essek suggests closing the book and sits up a little straighter. He places the book by his side as you sit up and go to reach for it. Essek’s quicker and places his hand firmly on top of it and prevents you from taking it. He’s very sure you’d have no trouble retrieving the book if you really wanted to and maybe he’d like you to try, just a little, but you’re tired and need rest. Not fill your mind with pages of knowledge attempting to cram in the words. You’re a good study but even the best of studies cannot combat the banes of exhaustion.

“It is getting late anyway.” Essek says as you roll back and find yourself, head leaning against his thigh, looking up at the drow with a pout as he insinuates he’ll have to leave soon. You catch him off guard but he’s not opposed to the sense of affection and comfort you radiate. Physical affection is rare between the two of you especially since he’s very new to it in such contexts. He’s still getting used to it and he’d be lying if he said it’s unwelcome.

“If you say so.” You stay like this for a few more minutes before the ruckus downstairs pulls you out of your moment and you’re reminded Essek needs to head back to his own home. He still has business to attend to, business he’s been procrastinating in favour of spending more time with you. You sit back up, swing your legs beneath yourself and rise to your feet offering Essek a hand to help him to his feet.

“Essek, do you have a moment.” Caleb calls over as he enters the living space. The drow looks at you as if to ask if you know what this might be about or more like your permission to allow himself to be whisked away by the wizard interrupting your goodbye. You shrug.

“I should probably try and prevent this kitchen fire waiting to happen. I take it Cad’s still out getting groceries?” Caleb nods and you sigh shudder preparing for the oncoming disaster rushing into the kitchen like a valiant hero, albeit a little more domestic than your usual adventures, valiant no less.

A conversation between two wizards in one room and a homemade fluffernutter dismantled in another you reunite with Essek. There he is floating in all his glory, cloak back around his shoulders you see him off. Essek seems a little… nervous? Is that the right word? So you give Caleb a look but he acts all innocent. You know better than to trust that. Nevermind, you’ll have an easier time getting it out of Essek than Caleb if you need to. Caleb sends the others off to their own business persuading them to clean up before Caduceus returns and finds his precious kitchen in disarray or any other state he didn’t leave it in before he left. The firbolg is quite protective of his pride and joy. You lead Essek over to the hall but interpose yourself between him and the door crossing your arms and tapping your foot expectedly.

“So is this where you tell me what you and Caleb talked about or am I going to have to work for it?” The look you give Essek makes him want to spill all the beans right then right there but he wants to do this the right way and not be a blabbering incoherent mess. He has to do this the right way. You deserve that much; if not for the way he feels then simply for every effort you’d put in your actions to do with him.

“It’s to do with you.” Oh? Now you’re curious. “I asked Caleb for some advise.” What in the worlds would he need to go to Caleb for to get advise on to do with you? Essek’s not one to admit lacking either skill or knowledge when it’s about people and even less so to confide in another in such a way because by all means, his little side bar with with the redhead was anything but an interrogation to get information about character, motives and possible leverage like he would have navigated a political encounter.

“And what, pray tell could Caleb be lecturing you on?” You grin with he gentle stroke at Essek’s ego. If you know one thing, sweet-talking will get you everywhere with this man. Not that you’d minded. Not that you were lying. You’d never lie about such things. But you’re also not against using your opinions to gently persuade the drow in revealing what he’s hiding.

“Matters of heart. It seems I am at a disadvantage when expressing them to the subject of my affections.” Essek admits and you watch the skin of his cheeks to become a darker shade of purple. Damn, this is not going the way he envisioned it. Like a rock being tossed into the elemental plane of water, sinking into that eternal ocean.

“Oh really, now? It seems to me you’re doing perfectly fine.” Essek laughs awkwardly and looks to the floor to gather his bearings but when he feels your hand rise to his cheek and lift his gaze to look you in the eye, when you step in a little closer to him. He knows you’re teasing, or at least partially teasing. He also knows best to rip the bandaid off quickly and hope you’ll be merciful in your answer.

“I was wondering if you’d join me on an outing, tomorrow if it suits you?” Essek feels the words leave his lips. He doesn’t blurt them out like some lovesick fool and is thankful for that at least.

“Of course, will we be going to the library again? Or another shopping trip? Need me to carry more of those heavy papers again? Please can we do this time without any assassins sent to kill you? I think we could both do with a break for once.” You laugh and it becomes quite clear to Essek his phrasing might have been a little off so he’ll have to correct himself. Great. Just what he needs. Make this more awkward and difficult for himself than it already is. Maybe he would have been better off blurting out the words like a lovesick fool.

“What I had in mind would be more like a planned outing, a break from our usual lives and away from the responsibilities we both carry.” Essek clarifies and the copper drops for you.

“Essek, are you asking me to go on a date with you?” Yes. Yes. For the love of the gods, the Luxon and all that is sacred thank you for speaking the words correctly instead of leaving him to go in circles until he can’t anymore and dies from embarrassment. Why does he always turn into a mess when it comes to you? Because he likes you, a lot, maybe even more than just like. Definitely more than just that.

“That is exactly what I have been attempting and failing to convey, yes.” He admits ashamed. Your laugh makes for a good consolation though, no matter your answer. Up until now the possibility of your answer whichever outcome, had never been a bother to him as he never really gave asking you a thought, for his own sake or this may just have gone much worse with his tendency to overthink. In suspense he awaits. Not even the powers of dunamis at his fingertips could make the passage of time before your answer feel like less when in reality you barely missed a beat.

“Of course. I’d love nothing more.” You caress his cheek. Your smile grows from amusement to joy and Essek couldn’t be happier. He felt himself slipping into a smile of his own. Essek let himself go in that joy and relief you accepted rather than the stress of the actual date tomorrow. He’ll worry about that one later.

[greenygreenland]

Hope To Cling To: Zane x Reader

-requested by someone on Wattpad -I was struggling for a while but finally got this done -sorry, unedited because I’m actually really tired lol

Summary: Zane is dead after the fight with the Overlord. You search for him without help.

What was this feeling? Deep inside, you knew something was wrong, and it drew a pit further and further into your very soul. It had been days since you've seen Zane. Maybe even months. You weren't sure after all that happened after the Overlord's final defeat.

A part of you still clung to the hope that Zane was alive, wherever in Ninjago he was. Yoku never did see him die, and all that was left of him was a plate from his face.

"(Y/n)?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat and pushed back the odd feeling in your stomach. "Hi Cole." You didn't mean to soumd so offhanded, but with all rhe thoughts swirling in your mind, how couldn't you? "I'm a bit busy right now."

He leaned on the threshold and crossed his arms sullenly. "If it's Zane you're after, then I can't let you leave." You stuffed a gi into your bag and zipped it tight. "I'm not after Zane." you quietly grumbled. Cole raised a brow sceptically.

He knew what you wanted. After months of searching, you still hadn't given up on him. It was only a matter of time before finding him became your obsession, and that was simply something he couldn't allow. "You can't get past me." he stated. "Even Sensei said you should give it a rest. You have to learn to--"

"Let go?" You shouldered the bag and turned to the window. The low creaking of the Bounty offered in comfort to your running thoughts. You found it fueling your desire to leave, as if in its wooden splinters it knew you were on to something all along.

"I can't let go when there's a chance Zane's alive. If it were me, he wouldn't have given up on me."

Cole pushed off the threshold with a furious frown. "But you saw what happened! There was ice everywhere after the final battle! He may have been the Master of Ice, but even that--how can anyone survive that?"

"He's still the Master of Ice." you said through gritted teeth. "I know he's out there." Cole made his way into the room. His brows were knitted together tightly, and by the way his shoulders tensed, he was doing his best not to burst. "Where? If you know then why don't you tell us?"

"Because I have to trust my instincts! I don't know where exactly he is, but he's alive. I know it!"

"You can't trust a gut feeling like that."

"It's not your decision Cole," you retorted, turning to face him. "You may be my brother, but you won't boss me around like dad did." That hit a nerve and you knew it. The absolute look of betrayal in his darkened eyes made you fall short. His past at Marty Oppenheinmer was not something anyone brought up. It didn't matter how many times his relationship with dad mended--there was still a hole that couldn't be filled in his rock-solid heart.

You ripped open the window and met Cole's eyes one last time. "If I don't come back in five months, consider me dead." He let out a scream, made a run for it, but it was too late. You jumped out of The Bounty.

Cole watched as you flew through the air. A moment later, you opened your parachute and made a descent towards the ground. That would be the last time he saw you for a long, long time.

------

This was the last time you ever rented a cheap hotel for an overnight stay. You shouldered your backpack and pulled up your hood. The blankets, curled up into the shape of a body bag, was a nice final touch you were sure Zane would never approve of.

It served the hotel right. Your room was absolute rubbish anyway.

You made your way downstairs and nodded towards the receptionist. She took the key from you. "Thank you for booking your stay." You disappeared out of the hotel. The darkness of night made your veins pump with a newfound emotion you hadn't felt in forever: serenity.

"Zane would like this." you whisper to yourself. The trek was going to be long, but with the guidance of moonlight and stars, you didn't mind. The first few miles were fine. Then there was another three and your tired legs began to ache. This was a cycle you had endured for the past two months. Hotel hopping, living off scraps, and then making your way through back country during the dead of night.

Attention was something you'd rather not have in these trying times.

That was when the faint lights of a dojo caught your eye. You followed the light in a blind daze. The weariness of travel wasn't doing you any good, and frankly, seeking refugee wasn't a bad idea. "Maybe rest would be a good idea."

You hurried along through the grass, then up the front steps. "Hello?" You tapped on the front door. "Is anyone here?" Of course someone was here. The lights were on, the grass was groomed well, the large wheel churning through the waterfall still ran. This was a well-maintained place, there was no way anyone would just leave it.

A muffled voice came from the other side. "What would anyone want this late at night?" You knitted your brows together as it got closer. Maybe it was just you, but the voice sounded familiar. It was smooth, coiled, yet serene and rather kind despite the grumpy tone. The doors flew open and you wished you had continued your treacherous trek through the dark.

"Garmadon?"

His eyes widened. "Ah," he said rather softly. "If it isn't (Y/n), Master of (element)." There wasn't a drop of malicious intent in his voice, and that set off all your internal alarms like crazy. He isn’t evil anymore, you reminded. Even then, you weren't so keen on asking for his assistance.

He did help you and the ninja with all the nindroids though. And he also helped keep Lloyd safe from the Overlord.

"Is there anything I could help you with this?" he warmly inquired. You pursed your lips together uncertainly. Was it possible to make a run for it? No. Was it possible to disappear into the shadows and forget this ever happened? No. Was it possible to not ask for his help? Also no. A long sigh escaped your lips. "I'm in need of shelter, I've been walking all night."

Garmadon's brows raised. "All night?” He didn’t seem to like that. “And you’re all alone? Where are your friends?" You glanced at the wooden door as if it were the most interesting thing in all of Ninjago. "Oh, they're...away right now." Garmadon nodded in understanding. He looked like he wanted to say more, but with the tired look on your face, he thought better. "Come in," he kindly said. "You may stay as long as you need."

Your eyes widened. "Wait, really?" A chuckle escaped Garmadon's lips and it was everything gentle, fatherly, and kind. He wasn't the same man you once fought. That was a fact you had to drill into your mind.

Garmadon led you inside. "After all I've done to you in the past, this is the least I can do." You tried your best to smile in thanks, but it came out as a grimace. "I...thank you."

The dojo was a nice place. It reminded you of the monastery, but it it were stacked up in a three-story building. The calm of the running water outside helped to soothe your worries, even if it was briefly. You made your way up the stairs after Garmadon. There was a long hall on the second floor that stretched out for as far as you could see.

"The guest room is here." Garmadon slid open a large set of doors. Inside was a plain room with tatami mats, a futon, a nightstand tucked in the corner of the room, and a small lamp. "In the morning, I'll have breakfast ready, so you may join me if you'd like. The bathroom is down the hall to your right and yes, there is a shower there."

You didn't know how to articulate a polite string of words. It all stuck in your throat like glue. Thank you, you're very kind, you didn't need to. How were you supposed to say any of that? Garmadon was still your former enemy, the one who came for your neck and called you stupid insults like 'petty ninja' and 'insolent fool'. Now here he was. Smiling kindly.

The very thought of it was baffling.

"Thank you." you said. Garmadon nodded. "Good night, (Y/n)."

The moment you finished a quick shower, your head hit the pillow. You hadn't realised how tired you were until your eyes fluttered open and closed. "What a day."

You wondered where Zane was, or if he was safe.

"I'd better get some rest."

Had Zane gotten into trouble? It seemed to find him wherever he went.

“No, I can’t think like that,” you mumbled, tossing and turning on your futon. Zane was more than the Master of Ice, your lover, and your best friend. He was strong, intelligent, and sharp-minded. Rarely anything ever got past him. Including you.

When you offered yourself up to defeat the Overlord, Zane refused and did something he’d never done in his life. Push you away. But it was for the sake of Ninjago. What choice did that give him, or you?

Your thoughts buzzed like a restless animal to its prey. It swarmed your head until it hurt, and after sitting around in the darkness for what felt like centuries, you stood. With a shaky hand, you slid open the doors and made your way to the first floor.

The stairs refused to creak under your quiet feet. If it weren’t for the running water outside, you were sure the silence would have driven you crazy already. The open space of the first floor was a welcoming scene. In the moonlight leaking from the open window, your shoulders finally relaxed.

“Is there something wrong?”

You immediately took a battle stance. Your hands raised into fists, your feet formed a box, and you tensed. A voice deep inside screamed that you were in danger, that the final battle hadn’t ended and that nindroids were out for your blood. But then you met Garmadon’s eyes. They were kind, soft, and almost empathetic, as if he understood exactly what went on in your mind.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Your hands limply dropped to your sides. “Thank you for asking Sensei.” His brows raised. If they were any higher, they might’ve been able to fly. “I can’t say I believe that (Y/n).” You shrugged half-heartedly. “I’m just thinking is all.”

Garmadon motioned for you to follow him. “It’s high time I brew some tea. Do you have a preference?” You shook your head and he nodded. “Will chamomile do? It does wonders to calm a weary mind.”

The parlour was as traditional as Garmadon’s dojo could get. You settled around the wooden table, silently thanking the First Spinjitzu Master for chairs. If there was a low-table around, you weren’t sure you’d want to have a long chat. Your legs would go numb long before Garmadon got anything out of you.

“May I ask what you’ve been doing by yourself?” he inquired. You took a long sip of tea. “Nothing much. Just a bit of sight seeing.” That wasn’t a complete lie, but ti wasn’t completely true either. Walking across all of Ninjago for who knows how long allowed you the opportunity to meet various people, as well as see wonderful places you didn’t even know existed.

“Sight seeing?” Garmadon echoed. “I never thought you to be one for that.” You shrugged with a small smile. “Neither did I.” There was a short pause as Garmadon studied you carefully. It was as if he were taking you apart and reconstructing you like a puzzle.

“I don’t mean to be nosy,” he set his cup down, “but are you looking for someone?” You drained your cup. Garmadon graciously refilled it. “Uh, not necessarily.” you mumbled. “I’m just...”

He patiently waited for you to come up with an excuse. You weren’t sure if you could lie straight to his face like this, especially since he was offering so much to you. But then again, he did nearly kill you a couple times in the past, as well as turn Nya evil, steal the Bounty, cause trouble for Lloyd and...

You heaved in a tight breath. What if he could aid you? Garmadon was wise, as well as smart. He knew Ninjago just as well as the back of his hand. “To be completely honest,” you ran your thumb over the rim of the cup, “I’m looking for Zane. Or more like...hoping to find him.”

Garmadon didn’t look impressed. It was no secret that you and Zane had more than a simple friendship going on. He loved you like you were his life line, and you loved him back like he were the sun to your moon. A look of pain passed over Garmadon’s eyes. You wondered if he felt guilty. “How can you be so sure Zane is alive?”

“I have a feeling.” That wasn’t a lie. Every waking moment, there was a tug in your gut. It led you further and further around Ninjago like a guide. The more you traveled, the closer you knew you’d get to finding him. “Zane and I share a special bond. I can’t ignore what I know to be true.”

“And if it’s not?” Garmadon carefully offered. “If what you seek cannot be found, I don’t want to see you lose yourself.” He was speaking from experience. That wasn’t something you could easily brush off, much less blissfully ignore. You heaved in a breath and sipped your tea. “I can’t give up on Zane. If it were me, I know he wouldn’t sleep until he found me.”

“And that’s what you wish to do?”

You met his gaze with solid eyes. “Yes.” There was not an ounce of hesitation in your voice. What was this feeling deep inside? The one that churned again and made the blood roar in your ears? This time, it didn’t draw pit further and further into your gut. Instead, it made your heart flutter, and your chest blossom with hope.

Even if it was blind hope, you’d cling to it. Zane was alive. He had to be, and you’d scour every inch of Ninjago just to find him.

[beauvibaby]

you came - m.barzal

requested: [] yes [x] no

summary: Mat shows up when you didn’t think he could

You woke with a jump, your heart beating a little faster as the thunder made the windows shake, only enhancing the anxiety from your bad dream. Of course, this only ever happened when Mat was away, you glanced at the bedside clock, something Mat always hated but you refused to have to check your phone for the time whenever you woke up in the middle of the night. 3:27am flashing back at you, “fuck.” You sighed laying back against the pillows, you knew it would be difficult for you to fall back asleep now, and you knew the one person you wanted to call was sleeping halfway across the country right now. You mentally debated with yourself, ultimately deciding to go out to the kitchen and find something to munch on. Hopefully by the time you did your eyes would feel heavy again, the only upside being that you don’t have work the next day, so at least if it took a while to sleep it wouldn’t matter, but it didn’t make it any less frustrating. Your feet softly padding along the floors, a chill running through your spine from the cold temperatures outside. You decided on a bowl of cereal, leaning against the counter as you lazily ate it, you unlocked your phone, scrolling through Instagram for a little while, eyebrows knitting together in confusion when your screen changed to an incoming call from Mat.

“Hello?” You answered, slightly nervous that it wouldn’t be him and that something had happened to him. “Baby, why are you awake?” He questioned, voice rough with sleep, you stood up straight, “how did you know I was awake?” You quipped, laughing softly at your accusing tone. “I saw that you were active on Instagram.” He admitted with a low chuckle, “that means you were awake and on Instagram too.” You retorted, sighing softly. “Couldn’t sleep.” You could picture the way he shrugged his shoulders, “why are you up princess?” He muttered, trying to disguise his yawn. “Bad dream.” You responded, finishing your cereal and putting the bowl in the sink, you’d deal with it in the morning. “M’sorry.” He whispered, “it’s ok.” You assured him, thinking about how you’d be able to curl into his chest right now if he were here. The tears sprung to your eyes instantly, “I miss you.” You whispered, instantly regretting it when you heard his breathing hitch for a moment. “I miss you too.” His response came, his voice soft, a simple way for you to tell he was also feeling the emotions of it. “I was going to ask tomorrow, but since we’re talking now,” you paused, checking the ticket to your work function, making sure you had the right date. “Will you be home by the 6th?” You asked, chewing your lip, please let him say yes. “I fly in that night, why?” Mat questioned, you could hear him shifting in his bed. “It’s a work thing, that charity function I’ve been working on for months.” You mumbled, “I was going to have you go with me, but that’s alright, I’ll just be home late that night.” You explained, not wanting him to feel bad. “I’m sorry, baby, you know I’d be there if I could.” He sighed, guilt eating him away, he wished he was there, he always wished he was there, he hated leaving you. “It’s alright, really bub, you’ve got to work.” You soothed him, pushing your own burning tears away. He let out another yawn, “go back to bed.” You chastised, giggling softly as your own yawn fell from your lips. “I love you.” He mumbled, “I love you too.” You responded, smiling at the words, something you’d never get tired of hearing from him.

***

You left a note for Mat on the fridge, he’d be home in a couple of hours, meanwhile you were about to rush out the door in this horribly uncomfortable formal dress.

“There’s leftovers in the fridge, don’t wait for me I’ll eat while I’m out, I love you!”

You grabbed your clutch, shoving your phone and keys in it, you gave yourself another once over in the mirror, you did have to admit, you looked good. You smoothed the material out over your skin as you rode the elevator down, your nerves picking up as you knew what the night had in store. Lots of polite socializing with people you didn’t know, all the while answering questions by the people who would be fascinated with your designing of the party, it was always good for business, but it was tiring nonetheless.

“Sarah. Oh thank god.” You sighed in relief when your coworker approached you, the night started off great, but now your feet were killing you and it was only half way through the event, and somehow the count was off. Now it looked terrible because there were so many empty chairs, you were doing anything you could to fill them, even pulling some employees from their positions and sitting them in seats, you couldn’t have it looking like no one showed up. “Miss Y/L/N?” You looked up, seeing one of the security guards looking at you, “there’s a guy here, he says he’s your date but he forgot his ticket.” He explained and you looked at him like he grew a second head. “Alright.” You sighed, following him to see who it was, at least it would give you a second to not think about how to fix tonight. You rounded the corner and froze in spot, Mat stood with a few of his teammates and their spouses, “Sarah called me.” He grinned, you sprinted over to him as best as you could in your heels and dress. You didn’t give him a chance to say anything else as you pulled him in for a kiss, arms circling around his neck. “You didn’t have to come, oh my god you didn’t have to bring any of them, I’m sorry!” You directed the ending towards his teammates. “Y/N, it’s ok!” Sydney chastised, leaning into Matt’s side, “it’s a free date night.” She winked, earning a giggle from you. “You needed help, I wanted to help.” Mat ushered you forward so the rest of them could come inside, “you’re so sweet, god I missed you.” You whispered kissing him again, his hands squeezing your hips, feeling the silky fabric on your skin. “I missed you, now let us go fill some seats.” He teased, cupping your face while he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you.” Is all you could squeak out as you pulled him along. “You look freaking gorgeous by the way.” He commented as he looked you over, you glanced over your shoulder, taking in his suit, he always looked good, but the fact that he put that on for you, made it ten times more attractive. “Thank you babe, you look freaking handsome.” You responded with a blush, earning a head thrown back type of laughter from him.

***

You hummed as Mat stepped behind you in the bathroom, his suit jacket and tie gone, you were still in your dress as you removed the large earrings from your ears, undoing the clip holding your hair back. Mat rested his cheek against yours as he looked at you in the mirror. “I’m so glad you came tonight, but I feel bad you look tired baby.” You whispered, turning to press a kiss to his cheek, he shrugged it off, “it’s alright, it was worth it.” He muttered, smiling when you placed your hand on his other cheek, looking at the two of you in the mirror, “we look a little rough.” You giggled, you had some slightly smudged makeup, from wiping at your face throughout the night and Mat had soft circles under his eyes, his hair a little messy. He hummed in agreement, removing himself from you to turn the shower on. An unspoken agreement between the two of you that it wasn’t a sexual thing, you both simply wanted to be close to each other and wash away the day you’ve had. You still blushed when he would do such a simple action, all he was doing was unzipping your dress, something he’s done more times than you could count, but it was always so soft and intimate, never rushed. “Thank you.” You mumbled once he was finished and stepped away to unbutton his shirt, he simply smiled at you, in awe of how he got so lucky as to have you beside him. “Anytime.” He winked teasingly, watching as you rolled your eyes, quickly you removed the fabric and your underwear, climbing into the shower and sighing in relief when the warm water hit your skin. Mat following soon after, “fucking hell!” He gasped feeling how hot you had made the water, “how does that not burn you?” He yelped turning the knob in the other direction, you pouted, “that’s too cold.” Reaching for the knob, “no.” Mat lightly smacked your arm, he made it just warm enough to appease you and just cool enough for him to not feel like he was being scalded. “Better?” He teased, seeing the way your shoulders loosened up again. You nodded silently, shifting around him to grab your shampoo, he stole it from you and poured it into his hands, working it through your hair, you sighed in content, god you didn’t deserve him. “Don’t say that.” He gasped, and your eyes shot open, “I said that out loud?” You flushed, eyes wide as his hands froze in your sudsy hair. “Yes.” He spoke sternly, continuing his movements, “don’t say that again, you deserve more than me.” He tsked, this time you’re the one who chastised him. “Mathew Barzal.” You scolded, turning to face him, your shampoo covered hair swinging and smacking him in the chest. A laugh falling from his lips, “I won’t say that if you don’t say that.” He bargained, turning you slowly towards the water, allowing you to rinse your hair out as he quickly washed his own.

Again you switched places with him rinsing his hair out while you ran your body wash over your skin, “so pretty.” He mumbled, wiping off the mascara that had gotten smeared under your eyes, “I love that you still blush.” He teased, hands lingering on your face for a moment. “You’re always going to make me blush.” You laughed, leaning into his touch, eyes fluttering closed for a moment as you just appreciated being in his arms again. “Come on, I’ll be done in a minute, go get ready for bed.” He whispered, pulling you in for a kiss, smiling against your lips. “You’re basically falling asleep in here, baby.” He added, pushing you gently towards the door, you gave in, despite wanting to stay in his warm embrace. “Hurry.” You whined as you wrapped yourself up in the towel, he laughed but agreed. You dried yourself off In record time, opting to just put some leave in conditioner in and brush your hair out before changing into some pajamas. Which really just entailed one of Mat’s shirts and a pair of not-very-sexy-underwear. You smiled as you climbed into bed, already nestled under the covers when Mat emerged, his hair sloppily towel dried and sweatpants hanging low on his hips. You smiled childishly at him as he walked over to you, “I’m coming.” He whined jokingly, he threw himself down on the bed, opening his arms for you, grinning when you leaned up to kiss him before laying on his chest. One of his hands laced with yours, the other resting on your lower back, subconsciously tracing shapes into the shirt you had on. “Hmm.” You hummed out, feeling content in this position. “Baby?” Mat asked after a while, “yeah?” You responded, lifting your head to meet his gaze. He took advantage of your shifted position, and rolled you to your back, resting his head on your chest, nose brushing on your neck. “Nevermind.” He mumbled, now more content as he finally got to feel you tending to him, your hands instantly shooting to his hair.

“Could’ve just asked bub.” You laughed softly, eyes shutting as he pressed a chaste kiss to your throat, “goodnight.” He grinned, “I love you.” He added, squeezing you a little tighter, “I love you too.” You smiled, enjoying the weight of his head on you, it grounded you, and it felt good to know that he was so comfortable with you to be this close, letting you cuddle him instead of the other way around. “Goodnight.” You whispered, kissing his hairline as his breathing evened out, yours soon following.

Taglist: @softstarkey​ @mtkachuk​ @literarycharleton​ @wtfkie​ @jmaybanks​

[alpacaparkaseok]

Lost & Found - 3

Pairing: Park Jimin x soulmate (oc)

Warnings: Insecurity, anxiety, abandonment

Word Count: 3.4K

**read this first!**a/n: be sure to read the newspaper article at the end of Jimin’s POV, it’s important to the story! if you’re unable to see the words b/c they’re too small, please comment/let me know and I’ll fix it! If you’re on mobile, you should be able to click on it and flip it to horizontal. That should make it easier to read.

Chapter 3. Fake Smile

series masterlist

Jimin fiddles with a loose thread hanging off the end of his sleeve, minding his business as hushed staff members bustle around the room. He’s wearing a pristine white jacket over his button down shirt. It feels like it’s been years since he’s last dressed up for anything.

“Ok, we’re ready to go,” someone in the distance says. Jimin sits up a little straighter, trying his best to look overjoyed to be here. A familiar makeup artist rushes forward, dabbing at his face and giving him a warm look.

“Oh, let me get this for you,” she mumbles, noticing the loose thread that Jimin keeps twisting and pulling. Taking a pair of small scissors from the bag around her waist, she goes to cut the string.

Jimin tenses up, a strangled noise coming from his throat. “No, leave it,” he mumbles. The makeup artist doesn’t hear him, thinking he’s just being polite.

Suddenly Jimin jumps up, backing away as fast as he can. “Leave it be!” He sobs, bringing his hand close to his chest.

Everyone freezes, looking to the idol with a mixture of worry and confusion. The makeup artist from before is the first one to put two and two together, bowing low and profusely apologizing.

It takes a few minutes for Jimin to come back to his senses, finally going through some breathing exercises and assuring the worried staff that he’s fine. When he finally settles back on the stool, the same makeup artist hurries over, keeping her eyes averted as she hurriedly touches up his makeup.

The guilt hits Jimin like a brick wall. “I’m sorry,” he says, his eyes perfectly reflecting how horrible he feels for his outburst. “You just took me by surprise. Please, I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s my fault,” the young woman mumbles. “I should have known better.”

Before Jimin can respond, the woman scurries away and it’s time for Jimin to film his short message to be shown at the concert.

Jimin has worn a few fake smiles in his lifetime, however as he lies straight to the camera, claiming that his muscle spasms have returned and that he’s working toward a speedy recovery, he can’t recall the lies ever hurting this much.

“Please wait for me,” Jimin says, his close-lipped smile hopefully countering the look in his eyes. “Enjoy the concert! Fighting!” He goes to raise his hand in a fist, but stops as he catches sight of his red thread in his peripheral.

Once the video is cut and Jimin is given the OK to head out, he slips out of the room immediately. A part of him would love to just go ahead and disappear into one of the empty rooms within the Bighit building, but he knows that he has to attend the meeting that Bang Sihyuk called for him and all the members.

By the time he makes it into the conference room everyone else is already there. He feels a bit more relieved when he enters the room and they don’t immediately halt in their conversation. Instead, Taehyung pulls Jimin to sit down beside him, giving him a boxy smile.

“Alright,” Bang Sihyuk sits at the head of the table with a soft look in his eye. “Are we ready?”

A round of agreement goes around the table, Jimin folding his hands on the table and doing his best to keep his eyes on the wall behind Hobi’s head. He definitely was aware of the line of red threads that trailed into the conference room, fighting the pang of hurt that was bound to arise.

The meeting starts off normally enough, going over a quick review of their upcoming schedule and making sure everything is prepared for their next concerts in Japan. The boys occasionally make comments or express concerns with the schedule, and everyone works together to resolve any issues that may arise.

For the first time all week, Jimin feels...normal.

That feeling comes crashing down when Bang Sihyuk’s voice rings out, calling Jimin’s name.

“We have a few options for how we can move forward,” he begins. “But I just want you to keep in mind that we’re in this together. No matter what.”

“Thank you,” Jimin mumbles.

Sitting back, Bang Sihyuk claps his hands. “That being said, we have a few options. I’m not sure what you would feel best about, so please weigh in with your opinion.”

With that being said the entire room begins to delve into the separate ideas. Of course the company sending out a statement is one of the first ideas to be discussed, however Jimin can’t shake the uneasy feeling that accompanies it.

“I know that we can’t just pretend that nothing happened,” Jimin states, sitting forward in his seat. “But isn’t there a way that we could just...I don’t know…” He trails off, unsure of what he was even trying to say in the first place.

Namjoon, who Jimin notices hasn’t even looked at him in the eye during this entire meeting, clears his throat. “We can always just take the ‘no comment’ route. I mean, there’s sure to be a lot of rumors that accompany that, but there’s going to be rumors no matter what.”

“No comment?”

Bang Sihyuk nods. “That’s basically just us refusing to ever shed light on the situation. Honestly...we might have to take that route anyway, because we really don’t know what happened. Instead of scrambling for some sort of explanation, we could just allow people to wonder. I’m not sure if Jimin would feel comfortable with-”

“Sounds great.”

All eyes turn to Jimin, who is sitting on the edge of his seat, fiddling with the severed thread.

“What?”

Jimin shrugs. “Like Namjoon said; there’s going to be rumors no matter what. Let them wonder. Frankly the idea of offering up some sort of patched together explanation every time people ask me about this,” he holds up his hand for emphasis, “sounds exhausting and never ending. Which, all of this will be, but I’d like to just keep this for myself.”

It’s quiet for a moment while everyone takes in this information, and Jimin waits with bated breath for the verdict. In the end, it’s Jungkook who ventures to speak first.

“I think you have a point,” he says, shooting his friend an understanding look. “People are going to be asking about it nonstop and spreading rumors, so I’d feel better if what we answer is on our terms. People can so easily twist our responses.”

After a couple more minutes of discussion and debate, they settle it. Deciding to take the ‘no comment’ route for now, Jimin feels a wave of relief come over him. Namjoon, too, appears to be relieved with this decision.

Once the meeting is over, Jimin doesn’t miss the way Namjoon practically hurtles out of the room.

“Where’s he headed to?” He asks the others. Jin shrugs.

“I think he said he had to meet with Chung-hei.”

There’s a pang of pain at the mention of Namjoon’s soulmate, but it doesn’t hurt as bad as it might have the day before. “Oh.” Before the others can dive in to make him feel better, Jimin changes the subject. “Have you guys already eaten?”

Taehyung’s eyes light up at the possibility of his best friend joining in on a meal with them. “Nope. Let’s go!”

The boys surround Jimin as they head down into the small cafeteria area, a few staff wandering around. The makeup artist from this morning keeps her head down, shooting Jimin a sheepish smile before scampering off. Jimin winces, recalling the events of the morning. How he’d lost complete control-

“Who even reads the paper anymore?” Jungkook asks aloud, grabbing an abandoned article from off a table. “I didn’t realize that they still delivered hard copies.”

Jimin wanders over, forcing a half-smile to his face. “Is it a real newspaper?” Before he can grab it, Jungkook drops the paper almost as though it burned his skin.

“Er, no,” he stutters out, earning a confused look from everyone around the table. “I think it’s a fake, I’ll just throw it away-”

Jimin reaches out and grabs the newspaper before Jungkook can do anything, eyes widening as they glance over the front page. Everyone else gathers around, falling eerily quiet. In the end, it’s Taehyung who breaks the silence. 

“I’m sure it’s just some dumb misunderstanding,” he mumbles. “You know how reporters get.”

Jimin can hardly find it in himself to nod, rereading the article again and again. 

For the first time in his life, Jimin wishes that the gossip column were true.

✂

Typically, the second I’m done with work, I do my best to not think of bread for the rest of the day. Today, however, is different.

My tiny apartment has been transformed, the kitchen dusted over with a thin layer of flour. On the counter sits an old wooden slab, a chunk of dough sitting atop it. And then there’s me.

Hands cracked to oblivion, hair pulled back in what can only be identified as a bird’s nest, panting as I flatten the dough again and again. It’s the same process that I’ve been doing for years, my shoulders hardly aching anymore with the constant practice.

Punch.

Press.

Repeat.

The sound of me beating the dough to a pulp is ringing in my ears, and when I finally step back with a huff, it takes me a moment to hear something scratching at the door. Shaking my head to rid myself of the ringing noise, I listen closer.

“Who’s there?”

A quick glance out the window shows my empty porch, however the scratching continues. Now that it’s steadily growing darker, I can’t tell if there’s anything out there.

Am I being haunted? Is this my punishment for cutting the thread?

Slowly, I open the door, wincing at the white mark I leave behind from my flour-heavy hands. “Hello?”

I get a meow in response.

Looking down, I meet eyes with a pristine white cat that sits on its back legs and looks up at me with unwavering annoyance.

“What?” I ask the cat, that simply blinks up at me. “What are you so annoyed about? You’re the one that knocked, not me.”

Nearly rolling its light colored eyes at me, the cat stretches before looking back up expectantly. From the white fur that doesn’t have a single spec of dirt, to the look it’s giving me, I feel like I just stumbled upon the queen’s cat.

“By all means, come in,” I croon, stepping aside and watching with no small amount of amusement as the cat leaps inside. It immediately heads toward the couch, jumping atop it. “Make yourself comfortable,” I mumble.

Ignoring my visitor for now, I go back to the counter and stare down at the dough. I’ve been kneading this for a while now, it’s flat enough that it might never rise. That’s not what I got it for, though. There’s already some bread baking in the oven.

Half-heartedly throwing one fist at it, I find that I’ve completely lost any energy. Instead I just stare down at the wooden slab, and wonder.

It’s the same thing that I’ve been wondering about all day. My thoughts go in endless circles, always coming back around to the same thing.

Park Jimin.

After Chung-hei appeared at the shop a couple of days ago, I’ve been unable to stop thinking about what I’ve done. When I told her my reasoning, recalling the awful experience she had and admitting that I was a coward and didn’t want to go through the same thing, Chung-hei looked at me with something akin to realization.

“Jolie,” she had muttered, stopping me from hitting the dough again. “You know that he would love you, right? You’re enough. More than enough.”

Which led me to this moment, pulling out the wooden slab and spending my entire evening beating some dough and trying to beat out my emotions as well. It still hasn’t worked.

“What’s your name?”

The cat’s ears twitch a little at my sudden question, however it just continues to stare at me like I might be insane. Judging from my recent actions, I’d say it isn’t wrong.

“Are you planning on staying the night, or…?”

A swish of its tail and the cat is sinking lower into the couch.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Finally abandoning the dough and washing my hands off, I meander over to my new roommate. “What should I call you? I have a feeling you won’t take kindly to just being called ‘cat’, right?”

The cat gives me a death glare, confirming my suspicions.

“That’s what I thought,” I say, raising my hands in innocence. Settling down beside the white cat, I admire its fur. “But I wonder why you’re here? You look like you’re well taken care of. And no collar?” Hesitantly reaching out, I double check that there is no collar hidden in its long fur. “Don’t think so. I’ll let you stay the night,” I concede. “But tomorrow you’ve got to find your way back home, ok?”

The cat swivels its head to look at me, looking offended that I would even say such a thing. It lets out a woeful mewl.

“You’re lost, aren’t you?” Another mewl. “Huh.”

Running my hands through its long fur, I lean my head against the wall, watching the evening turn darker and darker. The cat also joins me in my silent watch, never moving an inch as it emits a soft pur.

“I’m lost, too.” The words tumble from my mouth, a little broken. I keep my eyes ahead, watching the outside as though it will disappear at any given moment.

From the corner of my eye I see a bundle of white fur scooting toward me until the cat lumbers up into my lap. Chuckling through the unshed tears, I sniffle and adjust so we’re both comfortable.

“Should I call you ‘L’ for lost?” I ask abestmindely. I nearly jolt out of my skin when the cat hisses up at me. “Ok, ok. You’re a lady, I get it. What about ‘Elle’? You know, e-l-l-e. That’s like a princess name. Very pretty. We’ll be the only ones that know what it really means. ‘Elle’ for lost.”

I receive no further objections.

Snuggling down into the sofa, I keep my eyes open for as long as I can until they drift shut against my will.

✂

When I awake, the world is still dark. Not unusual, considering that I tend to wake up around this time everyday, but something is off-

“Elle!”

The cat in question jumps off my lap, bolting toward the door. Groaning, I rub at the back of my neck.

“Good morning. What time is it?” A quick peek at my phone that’s nearly dead has me groaning a second time. It’s already time to get up. Waddling toward the bathroom, a loud meow makes me pause.

“What?” Elle scratches a little at the door, giving me a withering gaze. “Oh. Right.” I hurry over to open the door. “Well, thanks for visiting, feel free- aaand she’s gone.”

Laughing quietly to myself, I head into the bathroom to get ready. Making sure to not even look at the mirror until I’ve scrubbed my face, I get straight to it.

I’m nearly running late when I finally leave my apartment, but thankfully the shop isn’t far from here. It allows me to walk there most mornings.

The world is still asleep as I walk down the street, admiring the dull grays and blues of the early morning. There’s a hint of a chill in the air, but it’s nothing that a brisk walk won’t take care of.

It’s in these moments of quiet that I feel like the world is pressing down on me so heavily. Unafraid of people gawking and seeing my cut thread, I let my hands hang out of my pockets.

There’s nothing to be afraid of this early in the morning. It’s only when the sun begins to rise is when trouble begins to stir up. So I take advantage of the peace that settles over me as I make my way to work. No doubt my shoulders will resent me a bit today as I spent all of my free time yesterday beating dough.

As the sleepy world continues in its quiet vigil, my thoughts return to the exchange I had with Chung-hei a couple of days ago.

“You told me you wouldn’t wish that upon anyone.”

Chung-hei sighs, suddenly looking utterly exhausted. “I was foolish. It sucked, of course it did. Suddenly I had a target on my back. But that’s not the point.”

“Then what-”

“The only way I was able to get through that and am still able to, is because of the people I have surrounding me. I have you! I have Namjoon! As far as I’m concerned, that’s all I really need. It was difficult, but I learned to quit worrying so much about what other people expected or wanted from me. I know who I love, and that’s all that matters.”

“Good morning sleepy-head.”

Nearly jumping into the street, I can’t help but yell a little as Chung-hei appears before me. She’s standing in front of the shop, a sly smile on her face.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, clutching my chest. “Why are you trying to scare me so much?”

My friend laughs. “It’s too fun, honestly. What? I can’t come to visit you at work anymore?”

“Weren’t you just here a couple of days ago?”

Chung-hei clears her throat. “Ah. Right.” She rubs at her arms. “Should we go inside, then? Fire up the oven? It’s chilly.”

Giving her a long look, I glance down at my thread. Despite being fully aware of my decision, it still shocks me a bit whenever I see the frayed end. Still a dull red, the thread looks so out of place now.

“Sure, I guess.” I grab my key out of my pocket, heading toward the front door. “Actually, I could use some help. I think I nearly beat the life out of some dough yesterday, I can hardly move my arms now.”

“Yeah. Namjoon can help.”

I stop with the door halfways open. “What do you-” Glancing over my shoulder, I nearly lose all ability to speak as I watch my friend rounding the corner of the building with none other than Kim Namjoon in tow.

He’s taller than I imagined.

And somehow able to make me what to run for the hills.

I stare at the man, forgetting all sort of courtesy or manners as he looks down at the ground sheepishly. Slowly, I turn to my friend.

“What.”

Chung-hei has the good sense to look a little apologetic. “I...you never got to meet him.”

I stare at her a moment longer, struggling to read whatever emotions are in her eyes. My heart catches in my throat. “He knows, doesn’t he.”

At this, Namjoon looks up with wide eyes. He opens his mouth, but I beat him to it.

“Don’t even try to lie,” I hiss out. “I’ve known your soulmate for much longer than you have, and I can tell when she’s trying to fix all my problems. Looks like she brought some help from the outside this time.”

Namjoon’s mouth snaps shut, but he doesn’t lower his gaze. I turn back to Chung-hei, who looks like she’s fighting against chewing me out for insulting her soulmate. Despite feeling a little bad for being so rude, I can’t help the anger that boils inside me.

My best friend, I realize, is no longer my confidant. It’s something I thought of before. Once we found our soulmates, it was only a matter of time before those roles shifted. However it doesn’t stop the pain that comes with seeing it firsthand.

The urge to turn and lock them out of the shop is overwhelming, but I stand still for a moment longer. The blue of the early morning is turning gray, almost matching the dark circles under Namjoon’s eyes. I see now just how much he must have gone through to get here.

Regardless of the circumstances, I still cherish my friendship with Chung-hei. Years of experiences and heartbreak can’t get washed away so easily.

“Can you work the dough?” I ask a little roughly, fighting against the lump in my throat. Namjoon blinks, looking shocked.

“Ah, see. I told you she’d come around.” Chung-hei drawls, grinning at me. I can’t quite find it in me to return her smile just yet. “I’ll help him,” she promises.

Sighing, I nod. “Come in, then. I hope you can talk and work at the same time. I have a feeling you prepared a speech.”

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[ibijau]

Futures past pt5 / on AO3

Nie Huaisang chats with Su She, and gets reminded of his mission

"I swear, if that shixiong of yours doesn't stop sneering like that every time he sees you, I'm stealing you," Nie Huaisang grumbled as they walked away from the training grounds. “And then da-ge will be happy to have another hard working disciple, and you will be happy to never deal with those stuck up idiots, and I will be happy to have a friend at home!”

Su She rolled his eyes, but there was a faint smile on his lips that pleased Nie Huaisang. He’d figured out pretty quickly that Su She liked being praised, reacting to it like a man lost in the desert who'd found an oasis. It was funny, and a little cute, and Nie Huaisang was only too happy to build up his new friend’s self esteem. When Su She was in a good mood, he was a little more willing to help Nie Huaisang with his homework, at least some of the time. He refused to actually do the work for Nie Huaisang, which was a shame, but just getting help was already something.

And it was help that Nie Huaisang desperately needed.

As weeks passed, it had become quite obvious that he was horrifyingly bad at studying, his grade plummeting down with each new test and surprise quiz. At least he could somewhat manage his homework if Su She or Lan Xichen were helping him, but… but he kept being punished because of his bad grades, meaning he ended up with very little time to spend with either of them. When he went to Lan Xichen’s house, he usually did some homework because that was easier than making conversation, but it didn’t happen that often. As for Su She… well, there were more fun things they could do together, and Nie Huaisang would fail his classes no matter what, so why waste time on something as stupid as homework now it was all obviously in vain?

“What’s the plan today?” Nie Huaisang asked.

"My mother sent me some treats from home and I don't mind sharing," Su She announced. "She figured I'd be sad, since I'm not able to go back for Qingming this year either. The teachers say my attitude isn't good enough yet, and going home might ruin all my progress." 

"They're all too hard on you, I swear." 

Su She shrugged. He was used to this. From what Nie Huaisang understood, most outer disciples were treated quite harshly until they proved they could be trusted to follow the rules. It might not have been so bad if Su She had been more the side to bend his neck and obey everything like some of the others, but he really had too much pride for a disciple of Gusu Lan. Still, being away from home for Qingming was harsh. 

Of course, Nie Huaisang too was stuck in the Cloud Recesses. In his case, that was because the trip would have been too long when he couldn't fly on his sabre, and Lan Qiren had warned Nie Mingjue that it would be bad for his brother to miss any classes due to that. The other Nie disciples had no such problem though, so they'd left and he was currently all alone in the cabin they shared.

Nie Huaisang didn't mind. A little quiet was nice. 

“Let’s go to my cabin to have some tea,” Nie Huaisang offered. “We can eat what your mother sent, and I should also still have some sweets, and I don’t mind sharing if it’s with you.”

It was, actually, almost the last of the candies he’d brought from home, and he hadn’t been able to get more. Students were allowed days off to visit the nearby town sometimes, but Nie Huaisang had been denied that privilege on account of his grades. He had thought of going anyway, but so far his fear of Lan Qiren still outweighed his desperate need for something fun. If Su She had been willing to come with him, perhaps… but Su She wasn’t exactly in a great position either, and didn’t want to make his situation worse by purposefully breaking rules, so they were both stuck inside the Cloud Recesses, the most beautiful prison in the world.

But it was a prison with decent company, and Su She agreed to that offer for tea. With just the two of them, they were able to get quite cozy in the Nie cabin. They dropped on the floor all the blankets in the cabin so they could sit in decadent comfort, at least by Cloud Recesses' standards. Half sprawled by the table, they drank the best tea Nie Huaisang had to offer at that moment (he promised, not for the first time, that one day he’d invite Su She to visit the Unclean Realm where he had access to much better leaves), traded treats much sweeter and tastier than anything usually available to eat away from home, and chatted quite freely, knowing there was nobody around to scold them if they got too gossipy. 

Su She, who tried so hard to never say anything bad about his fellow disciples where someone might here, ended up spitting a lot of venom on all those other Lan juniors, sparring neither inner nor outer disciples and denouncing their treatment of him as unfair.

“After all,” he spat, “I’m a much better musician than Han Mingzhe and Bao Tong, and my swordsmanship is at least as good as Li Xiaoping, but they don’t get scolded as much. But Bao Tong and Li Xiaoping have parents who are rogue cultivators, and Han Mingzhe’s parents are farmers which is at least honourable, while my father is a merchant, and a rich one at that. Everyone says I just bought my way into cultivation!”

Nie Huaisang frowned, looking down at his currently empty cup. This, he thought, would have been a conversation better accompanied by some wine. Complaining while drinking tea just wasn’t as fun.

“It’s stupid,” he said. “I mean, sure you can buy pills and all, but that wouldn’t take you very far with Gusu Lan’s style, that’s more of a Jin thing.”

Immediately, Su She hunched up his shoulders and looked down, a spot of colour on his cheeks.

“Actually my father tried to get me into Lanling Jin at first,” Su She muttered, sounding ashamed of the confession. “But they didn’t want me because I didn’t know anything about using a sword and they said I was already too old to be taught. Then we tried Gusu Lan, because we’d heard they use music, and I’m good at that. They also said I was a bit old, but they still took me in because they said I might catch up if I worked hard enough. But some of the other juniors still heard about me trying for Lanling Jin, and they’re convinced I must have cheated somehow, and… Well, a merchant’s son, no way I can have gotten here on my own merit, eh? Merchants are all dishonest, right?”

Nie Huaisang grimaced, because he could just imagine the sort of things that Su She might have been accused of. Even his brother’s sect, which tried to reward merit and talent above all else, wasn’t always kind to anyone coming from a merchant’s family. It was a profession with money, but that didn't count all that much when the way they'd gotten that money was through the work of others, not like farmers or scholars who put such high efforts into their respective crafts. Of course, being descended from butchers, the Nie couldn’t exactly look down on others for their origins, and yet…

“Have you told the seniors about this?” he asked Su She.

His friend shrugged and scoffed.

“What for? Most of them agree, or they wouldn’t be so hard on me.”

“Then… what if I told Lan Xichen?” Nie Huaisang offered. “If he says something in your favour, then everyone else will have to be nice to you!”

“Lan gongzi despises me,” Su She muttered. “Sometimes I cross paths with him, and he looks at me like I’m lower than dirt. With everyone else he’s nice, but me… it’s like he hates me, personally. And it’s worse when I’m with you.”

Nie Huaisang's enthusiasm deflated at the reminder.

At least, this confirmed it wasn’t just his imagination. He also thought he had noticed that Lan Xichen appeared to harbour some kind of personal dislike toward Su She, but he couldn’t understand why. By all accounts, Su She had always managed to be perfectly polite around the sect leader’s sons, and while his personality wasn’t the most Lan-like, Nie Huaisang knew his friend had never done anything that cast shame upon his sect. It might have been about Su She’s origins then, but somehow that didn’t sound right either.

Lan Xichen was a little boring, but he put great value on his sect’s rules, and those rules said clearly that people should be judged by their actions, not their origins. Nie Huaisang had copied those damn rules often enough to know that. It really was so odd for Lan Xichen to react like this to Su She, and that made Nie Huaisang want to understand why. Everything else about Lan Xichen was so boring, but this detail made him feel like there might be some personality in the older boy after all.

“I could still ask him to do something,” Nie Huaisang insisted. “He can look the other way if nobody tells him, but I’m a young master of a sect too. I'm not very good at being one, but when I say something, he still had to listen. And if I tell him his father’s disciples are little shits, he’ll have to do something, or all of Gusu Lan will lose face.”

Su She’s expression only turned darker. “It will just make everyone hate me more, even the ones who didn’t care before. Please don’t say anything. I’m just going to work harder, and prove everyone wrong, and when I’m good enough I’ll…” he pinched his lips and dropped his gaze to the table. “They’ll see, they’ll all see. When I’m good enough, I’ll show them all, and everyone will regret that they didn’t respect me.”

Nie Huaisang nodded, and even patted Su She on the shoulder, feeling quite sorry for him. He’d never thought about it before, but the way things were was a little unfair. Su She was so hard working and getting results for his effort, but people treated him like dirt, while Nie Huaisang couldn’t be bothered with anything and would have failed even if he tried, but everyone still felt forced to treat him with a minimum of respect because of his brother.

It really wasn’t fair at all, but all Nie Huaisang could do was stand by Su She and make it clear he saw his friend’s talent, even if everybody else was too damn stupid to notice him.

Nie Huaisang couldn't do anything to help, but he made sure to give Su She the last of his candies, and hoped that counted for something.

-

It was always too damn quiet in the Cloud Recesses at night, and Nie Huaisang struggled to get used to it. Back home, there was always the noise of something happening somewhere. Disciples who'd decided to continue training after sunset, those on watch duty doing their rounds, servants going about their business... it was a constant reminder that people were around and the world was safe.

In the Cloud Recesses, there was nothing. If not for the snoring coming from one of his companions, Nie Huaisang might as well have been alone in the world.

Nobody was snoring that night. He was alone, and would be for at least two more, until the others returned from seeing their families and honouring their ancestors.

It was annoying enough to be stuck in this lonely quiet place in daylight, when he could at least see people, when he’d been able to pester Su She and feel less alone. Only Su She had long returned to the dorms he shared with other Lan disciples, and Nie Huaisang was alone in this deafening silence.

That was why he couldn’t sleep.

That was why he heard those footsteps coming near his bed, when there shouldn’t have been anyone else in that lonely cabin. It couldn’t be a demon or a ghost, not in the Cloud Recesses, which should have been a comfort. Once, before his father went mad, it would have been.

There were things against which no magical barrier could offer protection.

The footsteps came to a stop near the bed. Nie Huaisang silently shivered under his blanket, biting into his fist to avoid making any sound. If he was quiet, if he pretended not to be there, things would be fine. It had worked whenever his father went into a rage. Back then, as long as Nie Huaisang didn't move, his father seemed not to see him, a trick he'd figured out very quickly and shared with Nie Mingjue.

Maybe it would work here too.

Or maybe not.

Nie Huaisang felt a hand grab his blanket, and all coherent thoughts left him. He shrieked in terror as he leapt out of his bed, nearly falling face first onto the floor but caught at the last moment by strong, slender hands.

“What are you crying like that for?” he heard a strange yet familiar voice huff. “Do you really think anyone would dare attack you here? It’s only me.”

Blinking away a few tears, Nie Huaisang scrambled to stand up while his future self watched him with an unimpressed expression.

“Sorry,” Nie Huaisang muttered, trying to put some order to his night clothes. “I get scared at night sometimes. Well, you’d know. Do… Does it get better?”

“No,” the older man bearing his face said, opening his fan. It was a different one from last time, but just as gorgeous. “It gets worse. I don’t sleep much these days. Haven’t in years. It’s a waste of time anyway.”

Nie Huaisang, who often thought that sleeping was the best part of his day, as long as he didn’t start panicking over nothing, didn’t know what to answer to that. He had a feeling his opinion on the matter wasn’t required anyway.

“So, uh, aside from sleeping, how have you been?” he awkwardly asked. “Anything interesting happened to you? How does time even pass for you? Did you also have to wait for several months, or is it just after the last time we talked for you?”

His future self glared and sharply closed his fan, making Nie Huaisang jump and effectively silencing him.

"How is Lan Xichen?” the man asked. “Have you made progress with him yet?" 

"We've talked here and there, but he's always so busy," Nie Huaisang muttered, wringing his hands. “It's really hard to chat with him, you know. And he’s got such boring hobbies, too.”

Not music and painting, those were valid ways to pass time, in Nie Huaisang’s opinion. And sometimes, serious people couldn’t avoid doing some amount of work, so he didn't even begrudge Lan Xichen that either.

But Nie Huaisang hadn’t taken long to realise that whenever they were spending time together, Lan Xichen wasn’t actually doing any sect work. After all, Nie Mingjue had tried to force his little brother to help with those things, so he knew what that looked like. And it wasn't calligraphy either that occupied the older boy, because Nie Huaisang loved that and would have struck a conversation about it if given a chance.

Instead, Lan Xichen had made a hobby of copying books and treaties.

Nie Huaisang had asked, once or twice, if Lan Xichen was trying to learn those texts by heart. The older boy had very awkwardly agreed that he was indeed doing just that, but he hadn’t sounded very convinced. He really was such a poor liar. Lan Xichen was going to be awful at politics if he didn’t learn how to conceal his thoughts. Then again, he wasn’t always like that, was he? With most people he was placid and radiating a sort of empty warmth. It was just around Nie Huaisang that he would get weird, and maybe around Su She as well, as if his disdain was just too great to be contained.

Just as Nie Huaisang was about to ask his older self if he’d ever found out what he and his friend had done to Lan Xichen to be so disliked by him, the man grabbed him by the collar and shook him.

"I thought I'd told you this was essential," his older self hissed, sounding too much like Nie Huaisang's father all of a sudden. "And you’re still only thinking about having fun! Do you want da-ge to die?" 

"Of course not!" 

"Then get serious about this,” the man ordered, shaking his young self once more before pushing him away with enough force that Nie Huaisang stumbled and nearly fell. “You have to earn Lan Xichen's trust, or he will choose the wrong friend, idiot that he is."

"Well, can't you give me hints?” Nie Huaisang mumbled in a trembling voice, trying again to straighten his clothes in spite of shaking hands. “You've got to know more about him than I do, can't you tell me how I'm supposed to get close to him?" 

This, of course, earned him another disdainful glare.

"I don't remember the boy he was," his future self said, "and the man he became was never worth my attention. Figure this out on your own, and be useful for once."

It struck Nie Huaisang as very unfair that his future self was allowed to not have anything to do with Lan Xichen, but wouldn't extend the same kindness to him. It also worried him that the man before him disliked Lan Xichen so much. Nie Huaisang just found the older boy a little boring, but he didn't have any particularly strong opinion about him. 

“You can’t do that!” he complained, clenching his fists. “You can’t… I’ve got to be told things! And if you can’t tell me about how to get close to Lan Xichen, then… then at least tell my why it’s important, and why… how does da-ge die, anyway?”

“Murdered, I’ve told you that already.”

Nie Huaisang stumped his foot. “There’s so many ways to murder someone, that doesn’t narrow it down at all! Tell me how, and tell me who…” He trailed off, a horrible suspicion hitting him. “Did… did Lan Xichen…”

Just thinking of it, Nie Huaisang felt a little faint and had to stumble against the closest wall, just to get some support. Whatever he thought of Lan Xichen, that was still his brother’s closest friend, Nie Mingjue's only friend. And besides, Lan Xichen didn’t strike him as a murderer. People changed, certainly, but how could a person have changed that much?

And yet his own future self, standing before him, was proof that such a complete transformation was possible. Nie Huaisang really didn’t see anything of himself in that man, nothing except his aged up face and perhaps a taste for fashion.

“Lan Xichen is too much of a coward,” his older self proclaimed, mouth twisting in disgust. “But he helped the murderer, willingly or not, and sided with him so many times that I’ve never dared come to him with the truth. I wasn’t sure he’d trust me, even with proof. I still have my opinion on that, whatever some others think he'd have done. But you…” he waved his closed fan toward Nie Huaisang. “You might change that. Da-ge’s opinion alone wasn’t enough, but Lan Xichen has no will of his own, he’ll be easily swayed if two people he trusts are denouncing the true nature of the man he protects. That’s all I feel safe telling you at the moment. I don’t trust you not to mess things up if you know too much. You only learned too late to keep your mouth shut.”

It still sounded odd to Nie Huaisang that Lan Xichen could ever side against Nie Mingjue. Not long ago, he would have called his older self a liar, because Lan Xichen was boring but honest and just. Now though, having seen how Lan Xichen looked at Su She who had never done him any wrong… maybe it was possible that Lan Xichen would turn into a bad man, since he was clearly capable of being unjust after all.

“I’ll work harder to get close to him,” Nie Huaisang promised, pushing himself away from the wall now that he felt steadier again. “I really will. Maybe I can ask him to help with lessons a little more… I really need it, if I want to pass.”

“You’re not going to pass,” his older self announced. “It’s fine. Da-ge will send you here again, and you’ll meet some useful allies.”

At the news, Nie Huaisang let out a deep, heartfelt sigh. Having to come back in this boring place for another year sounded like torture, even with Su She for company. And then, meeting more people his future self wanted him to befriend… weren’t these people going to be just as boring as Lan Xichen?

While Nie Huaisang despaired, his adult self turned to check on something only he could see, and huffed.

“I’m running out of time. Fine, let’s be quick. Did you bring with you the information I gave you last time about Meng Yao?”

“Yes, I have it.”

Nie Huaisang took a step toward the place he’d stored his qiankun pouch, but his older self stopped him with a gesture.

“That Night Hunt in Yunping should happen fairly soon now. You have to go,” the older man ordered. “One way or another, you have to go. I don’t know when else we’d have such a chance to alter Meng Yao’s fate, and it is vital that he doesn’t enter Lanling Jin. Do whatever you must do, take whatever risk you must take, but make sure Meng Yao cannot join the Jin.”

Nie Huaisang obediently nodded, half spooked by the edge in his older self’s voice whenever he said that Meng Yao’s voice. Hating someone was just too much effort in his opinion, but apparently he’d grow to hate that Meng Yao person. But if that person was fated to play a part in Nie Mingjue’s death… in that case, and that case alone, Nie Huaisang could imagine he’d maybe become enraged enough to do something about it.

“I’ll do my best,” Nie Huaisang promised, hoping he wouldn’t have to actually kill anyone. Murder was messy, and Nie Mingjue would be cross, even if it was to save his life.

“I know what your best is,” his older self snapped. “You’ll have to do better than that. Take care of Meng Yao, get in Lan Xichen’s good graces, and then… then we’ll see,” he mused. “Depending on how well you do that, there might still be a few loose threads to cut. Xue Yang and Su She didn’t need the Jin to make trouble, we might do everyone a service and…”

“What about Su She?” Nie Huaisang cried out, grasping the older man’s wrists.

He was roughly pushed away, and earned a nasty glare for his outburst.

“Don’t mind that yet,” his older self said, straightening his sleeves. “All that matters for now is Meng Yao and Lan Xichen. Focus on them, I’ll explain the rest when the time comes.”

“But that’s…”

“I’ll return in a few months. You’d better have good news for me next time.”

Nie Huaisang launched himself at the older man, wanting to grab him again and force him to explain why he’d mentioned Su She. His hands found only empty air and he stumbled forward, falling to his knees on the hard wooden floor. It hurt, and might even bruise later, but Nie Huaisang didn’t even think to rub them or cry.

He knelt there far too long in that lonely cabin, and wondered what might happen in the future that would cause him to treat Su She as an enemy.

[spasmsofthought]

15 years, 15 million tears (i gave it my all, he gave me nothing at all) [thor x reader]

hiiii I’ve been in my feels lately so here you go. maybe more parts to come?????

please forgive any typos or grammar mistakes! 

enjoy! xoxo 

+++

The pageantry never seems to end, apparently, as Asgardians partake in another feast, overflowing with food and drink, for the third time this week alone. The room is glowing and decadent, reflecting the riches of the people gathered together among the tables and around the pillars in a small area of this magnificent castle. There is laughter and smiles and an overall atmosphere that would be hard to resist if it were your first time at such an event.

It is not.

The merry faces hold sway over you no longer and it is easy to fade into the background while picking at the food that has been placed in front of you by a servant half-captivated by the scene in front of her and smiling politely at those who glance your way.

A boom of laughter comes from the other side of the chamber and it is not hard to guess who it belongs to. Thor Odinson has never been known for silence and his open mouth and wide grin portray his delight as he lifts his mug of ale and drinks yet again. The Warriors Three and other varying courtiers surround him, laughing along heartily. Lady Sif gives a quirk of her lips, playing along for a moment, but otherwise remains more stoic than the rest of the group.

It can be easy to be swept away in the revelry but tonight it just leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. There is no one near you that cares enough to notice when you get up from your seat, leaving your plate half-finished, and wander slowly towards the shadowed corridors hoping for quick exit. 

“My dear,” Frigga calls in her soothing voice.

Curse Frigga and her warm heart, for she knows you cannot dismiss her and you have no desire to. She is the Queen of Asgard and your guardian while you remain here in Asgard, and the wisest of all. 

“My Queen,” you turn and curtsy as she walks towards you. You can only offer her a slight smile hoping she will let you go soon and dare not ask for you to stay. 

“Why do you leave so early into the night? Is something the matter?” There is a concern, as always, in her voice, but something else that you cannot detect hides behind it. 

“I simply weary of the night, my lady, and seek rest in my own chamber, ‘tis all.” She comes closer and captures your hands with her own warm ones. Her gaze is loving and for a moment you imagine it would be like your own mother’s if she still lived. 

“Is that all?” She reads you like the palm of her hand but you give no answer. “I will have Thor escort you back, it will be no trouble.” 

You peer over her shoulder seeing Thor cast a quick glance over to his mother, for it is not often enough he sees you together in public spaces in the presence of so many people. It is the only glance he has spared you in months. You wrench your hands out of hers and hold them up to her in a pleading gesture, “No, please, my lady. He is enjoying his company and I wish to disturb no one. I know the way back to my own room.” 

Her eyes pierce yours but she chooses to relent this time, “Very well. May rest come to you tonight.” 

Her arms come to smooth over your hair and down to your shoulders, gentle and firm at the same time. 

“Good night, my Queen.” You nod and she lets go, allowing you to escape down the corridor into a darkened hallway. You continue to your room as you always have: alone. 

+ + + 

“I request an audience with my lord Odin Allfather and King of Asgard.” You try to keep your voice from trembling and you think you do well enough. This is not going to be easy, and you think your pacing wore through your bedroom’s carpet this morning. 

The throne room has always been grand, gold glinting from Odin’s seat and the weapon in his hand. When you came here years ago, it took everything in you to not cower in sheer fear of speaking to him. Now, the weight of the situation is no less heavy, but Odin is not as intimidating as he once was. 

“Speak, child,” his voice says to you after you curtsy in front of the dais. 

It is not warm like Frigga’s or boisterous like Thor’s. What little you have heard of Loki’s hold no comparison either. It holds the weight and authority of a king who has reigned longer than you have lived. 

“I wish to depart Asgard and return home,” Frigga’s eyes catch yours for a moment and there is something in them that makes you dread this conversation even more than you already do. 

“For how long? We will organize guards to accompany you on your journey and set a feast date for when you are to return.” 

“My lord, I do not wish to return at all.” The statement hangs in the air and the words echo around the chamber. It is now that you enter into truly dangerous territory. 

“And why with so little words do you wish to leave all that has been provided for you here? Foolish child, you do not know of what you wish.” Odin has always been rough around the edges, so you expected such a reaction to your proposal. He spent much time getting exactly what he wanted. 

“I know, my lord,” You beg your voice to stay even. It is not a time to test the King of Asgard anymore than you have, “that I can no longer sit idly by, gorging at feasts and drinking to my content, as my father grows old and my older sister fades away to time--” 

“You are shortsighted in your vision,” He interrupts adamantly, dismissing your words as if they are from the mouth of a child. But you are not a child and you have not been for a very long time. 

“I would continue to be patient,” It is like a spark lights inside of you, “if the Allfather would fulfill what he promised to me and my people decades ago. We gave you our best soldiers and our smiths and you still have yet to betroth me to a prince I came here decades ago to marry.” 

“I will tell you the same words I told you when you arrived here and became our ward--” 

“If my lord will forgive me,” For all the kindness and grace that has been instilled in you, your time here has taught you to never allow yourself to be spoken over, not even by the King of Asgard, “I have no time to entertain the same empty promises and fanciful notions that brought me here to you. I am the heir to my own throne and I am of no use to my kingdom if I wait endlessly for something that you, King of Asgard, have no intention of actually granting me nor my people. If it means I leave here declaring war, so be it.”

Frigga is wary next to her husband, as she is Queen of Asgard and no longer just someone who cares for you as a mother would. She cannot defy her husband in public, especially when the Court will hear of all of this before the end of day. Odin’s lips are pressed together and it is easy to tell that he is quickly losing what patience he holds with you. But you think your threats have worked well enough for the moment.

“I will grant consideration of this request but I make no promises. My decision will be known to you in the coming days.” He waves his hand at you, a quick and effortless motion. 

“My King,” You say begrudgingly though you glare at him as you give a final curtsy. The walk to exit out of the throne room is the longest of your life. 

+++

There is a loud knock at your chamber door two days later. The servants have pitied you with sad eyes and hidden frowns meant only for you, but otherwise you wait for news that still does not come. By the weight of the knock, you know it is Thor. There only has been one other time he has come to your door and it was for the feast thrown in your honor as you were welcomed into Asgard 15 years ago. It is funny how little the prince who was promised to marry you has seen you in the span of those years. 

He avoids you and everyone knows it. 

“What do you seek Thor?” You sigh as you see his face when the door opens. You are tired. His mouth is set in a grim line, which is unusual for him. He barges in with no care to how he may jostle you, which is usual for him. 

“I hear you are planning to leave us,” You want to roll your eyes, and behind his back you do. If he is coming here to simply confirm information he has already heard, you have better things to do with your time. “Permanently.” 

You stay stationed by your door, leaving it open. He will not be here for long. Your silence has him turning towards you. 

“You run as a coward?” He does not understand you in his foolishness, the kind that he seems to refuse to grow out of; he never has. 

“I cannot serve my people in a gilded cage waiting for you to grow up, Thor Odinson.” His facial expression startles for a second, as if he does not expect you to have a spine. 

“These promises,” He steps closer, confusion furrowing his eyebrows, “they mean so much to you that you would abandon the life that has been made for you here?” 

“I have no life here if your father does not keep his word. I leave with his permission or I leave without it. But I am not staying here sheltered like an innocent and dependent little girl.” There is some silence and you still wait by the door. 

“I do admire you,” He says. You want to scoff. This is longest conversation you two have ever had, so these words are meaningless. 

“Admiration does nothing for my people. And it helps me even less.” 

“Would you have even wanted to marry me?” He asks all the wrong questions at all the wrong times. 

“Perhaps, Thor,” you shrug as he comes again past you, barely stepping past the threshold, “if things were different and you were more willing to look beyond yourself.” 

He looks a little as if you have struck him, but you cannot find it in your heart to ask for any sort of forgiveness. He barely manages a nod to your words. 

“I think I would have liked to know you better--” 

“But you haven’t, Thor,” And you cannot help but be honest. The words are bitter as acid but they bring a relief. Too long have you bottled everything in. And it’s not like either of you are going to see each other any time soon. “And that is partly why everything is the way that it is. And it is why I must leave.” 

“I bid you good fortune, then, my lady,” He says as a farewell before he is briskly making his way down the hallway, as if he cannot get away fast enough. 

And you are alone, again, like maybe you were always meant to be. 

[bloody-bee-tea]

BeeTober 2020 Day 1

Cliff - Mid-Autumn Festival

It’s October and you all know what that means! Another writing event, where I will post a fic every day. Since the Untamed Fall Fest is happening at the same time, I combined the prompts! There’s a series on my AO3 where you can read all of these as well, if that suits you better.

This first fic is Mingcheng, and it will probably change everything, plot-wise, but like always, don’t ask me about it XD

I hope you enjoy this event with me!

Jiang Cheng has a bad feeling about this conference. Despite what everyone thinks, he is in fact able to read a room and what he reads spells trouble.

And going by the looks Jin Guangshan keeps throwing him it will come from him.

The conference is just drawing to a close and Jiang Cheng finally allows himself to relax—if only a little bit—when Jin Guangshan turns his eyes on him.

Jiang Cheng immediately stiffens again.

“There is one more matter to address,” Jin Guangshan says and Jiang Cheng feels relieved to see that he’s not the only one who suppresses a sigh.

“And what would that be?” Lan Xichen asks, when Jin Guangshan falls silent, clearly waiting for someone to inquire after that mysterious matter, and a cold shudder runs down Jiang Cheng’s back when Jin Guangshan smiles at him.

“The matter of the Jiang Sect,” Jin Guangshan sweetly replies and everyone in the hall falls silent.

“What is the matter with my Sect?” Jiang Cheng asks with a slight bow and when Jin Guangshan looks at him like one might look at a particularly stupid child Jiang Cheng has to fight the urge to throw himself off a cliff.

Or maybe he’ll just throw Jin Guangshan off one, that should solve almost the same amount of problems for Jiang Cheng.

“You’re recruiting, and heavily at that,” Jin Guangshan says, just as Jin Guangyao nods in agreement. “One has to wonder if there’s a hidden reason behind that.”

Jiang Cheng works his jaw, before he gets up and bows low to Jin Guangshan, aware that all eyes are on him. And not all of them are friendly.

Jiang Cheng never did deal well with attention like this.

“There is no hidden agenda,” Jiang Cheng promises and then his petty streak makes an appearance. “I know Lanling Jin didn’t suffer the same losses, but Yunmeng Jiang nearly got destroyed when Lotus Pier was burned. I barely have any disciples as it is. I’m just trying to fill the ranks again.”

“And for what purpose?” Jin Guangyao asks him, clearly picking up on Jin Guangshan’s thread of thought.

“Yunmeng Jiang is one of the Great Sects. There is nothing Great about Yunmeng right now, and I’m just trying to rebuild it,” Jiang Cheng says through clenched teeth.

“Recruiting at this point of time seems suspicious. One could think you’re trying to replace Qishan When,” Jin Guangyao says, a polite smile on his face and Jiang Cheng wants to do nothing more than wipe it off.

Preferably with Zidian.

“I am not actively recruiting, though,” Jiang Cheng forces himself to say, because he can guess where this is going. “People come to me to pledge loyalty. I am in no position to send them away.”

“Even when they already have a Sect they belong to?” Jin Guangyao wants to know and of course this is the whole problem.

“I don’t question where my people come from,” Jiang Cheng admits. “If they are willing to be loyal, then I am willing to let them wear purple.”

“How can they be loyal if they already betrayed one Sect?” Jin Guangshan says and Jiang Cheng suppresses a sigh.

“What do you mean?” Nie Mingjue suddenly chimes in and when Jin Guangyao looks at him with much the same look Jin Guangshan just gave Jiang Cheng, Jiang Cheng feels his skin itch.

“People are falling over themselves to join Yunmeng Jiang. Even disciples who already pledged their loyalty to one Sect.”

“Ah, I see,” Lan Xichen says and stands up. “I don’t think that is much of a problem,” he goes on and Jiang Cheng inwardly shakes his head.

Of course he won’t think of this as a problem. Barely any Lan disciples came to Jiang Cheng after all. But his Sect is overflowing with Jin disciples and Jiang Cheng is honestly not surprised about that.

“Er-ge,” Jin Guangyao gently chides him and Jiang Cheng sees how Nie Mingjue works his jaw at the patronizing tone.

“I don’t see a problem with that, either,” Nie Mingjue says after a moment and Jiang Cheng is honestly surprised he is speaking up for him.

“But you should,” Jin Guangyao says. “I heard some Nie disciples defected as well.”

“As they should, if they can’t serve under me,” Nie Mingjue gives back without a beat and for once Jin Guangyao falls silent.

Jiang Cheng sees a dangerous glint in his eyes, and he thinks it might be better if someone interferes.

“Sect Leader Jin, I apologize if I offended you in any way,” Jiang Cheng says with a low bow. “But I am not actively recruiting and I am not doing background checks on my disciples at this time. Anyone who wants to serve me is welcome. I hope you understand the need to rebuild what was lost in this gruesome war.”

Jiang Cheng bitterly thinks back to his burned home, while Jinlingtai stands strong and perfect as ever and he wants to shake Jin Guangshan until his head falls off.

Besides, it’s not his fault that Jin Guangshan is such a shitty leader that his disciples are coming to Jiang Cheng in flocks. At this point, there are probably more Jin disciples in purple than any actual Yunmeng people.

Jin Guangshan narrows his eyes at Jiang Cheng, who keeps his bow low and respectful, even though he feels anything but, and eventually he waves his hand.

“Just see to it that your actions cannot be mistaken for anything but rebuilding,” Jin Guangshan warns him and Jiang Cheng suddenly understands that Jin Guangshan is afraid of him.

Jiang Cheng lost everything; his parents, his home, most of his Sect. His sister will marry into the Jin Sect and only the gods know what Wei Wuxian is up to these days and yet Jin Guangshan feels threatened by him.

It’s honestly a better feeling than Jiang Cheng has expected.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is on his way back to his quarters when Nie Mingjue stops him.

“Do you have a moment?” he wants to know and Jiang Cheng nods, despite how uneasy he feels.

Nie Mingjue had seemed okay with the fact that a few of his people decided to serve under Jiang Cheng, but Jiang Cheng knows better than to trust it.

“Of course,” Jiang Cheng stiffly replies and when Nie Mingjue steps closer, Jiang Cheng is acutely aware of the fact that Nie Mingjue is a very imposing man and that Baxia is a very huge saber.

“Is it true? Did some of my people join your Sect?” Nie Mingjue asks and Jiang Cheng squares his shoulders.

These people came to him in hopes of finding a new home, and he will not sell them out to their previous Sect Leaders.

“And what of it?” Jiang Cheng snaps but Nie Mingjue only smiles slightly at him.

“Nothing,” he easily replies. “I meant what I told Jin Guangshan. If they found someone more worthy to follow than me, then I am fine with that. I only wish the best for my people and if I am not it, then I would always encourage them to go find it.” Nie Mingjue tilts his head slightly before he adds, “Unlike some other people.”

“I see,” Jiang Cheng replies, because he doesn’t quite dare to trust this.

It is still very fresh in his mind that the other three Great Sects now have a sworn brotherhood, while Jiang Cheng and Yunmeng Jiang are standing all on their own.

“I am looking for seven disciples,” Nie Mingjue says and holds out a small scroll to Jiang Cheng. “Those are their names. I try my best to give the families of my disciples an account of what happened to them during a fight, but I can’t find these seven. Maybe they are with you?”

“I will not sell them out to you,” Jiang Cheng hisses and Nie Mingjue seems honestly taken aback by the venom in his voice.

“I am not asking you to. If they are with you, then that’s okay with me. I just want to know if I have to tell their families that they are dead or not.”

Jiang Cheng mulls that over for a few moments before he snatches the scroll out of Nie Mingjue’s hand.

He quickly unrolls it and scans the names, before he rolls it up again and puts it inside his own robe.

“I recognize four of them,” he finally tells Nie Mingjue. “They are alive and well.”

“And the other three?” Nie Mingjue lowly asks and Jiang Cheng shrugs.

“I haven’t heard their names. I’ll have to ask around.”

“Would you?” Nie Mingjue asks and Jiang Cheng scoffs.

“Do I have a choice?” he bites out and he almost—almost—softens at the surprised look on Nie Mingjue’s face.

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“I might be a newly appointed Sect Leader but I am well aware of the consequences refusing you would bring for me. Especially with the support you have in your back.”

“You have nothing to fear from me,” Nie Mingjue says with a small frown. “You have support as well.”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot,” Jiang Cheng sarcastically says. “I have your support, of course. Is that the reason you and your two sworn brothers decided to forget about me?” he can’t help but ask and Nie Mingjue rears back as if Jiang Cheng had hit him with Zidian.

“We didn’t mean to—,” Nie Mingjue starts but Jiang Cheng doesn’t let him finish.

“It doesn’t matter, it is done after all,” Jiang Cheng bitterly mutters. “I will see if I can find your missing disciples, Sect Leader Nie,” he then says with a mocking bow. “And please be lenient with me in the future.”

“Jiang Wanyin, we didn’t mean to.”

“And yet you did,” Jiang Cheng gives back. “You isolated me and now I am without support. Jin Guangshan must really love this. No wonder he comes after my disciples now. Thanks to you, they are the only support I have left. Now, if you would please excuse me,” Jiang Cheng finishes, before Nie Mingjue can find his words again, and he simply turns around and leaves.

He can’t even find it in him to care that he was rude. They don’t respect him anyway, one bow more or less won’t change that.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is in the middle of the preparations for the mid-autumn festival, when a disciple finds him.

“Sect Leader Jiang, Sect Leader Nie is requesting to see you,” he politely says and Jiang Cheng let’s out a frustrated sigh.

This is the first major holiday since Lotus Pier burned, since Jiang Cheng lost everything. He had planned to spend it with the only remaining family he has left, had hoped to spend it with his disciples who will hopefully turn into a new family for him, and he was not prepared to have this all interrupted.

“Fine,” he still sighs. “Send him in,” he instructs the disciple, not even caring that it is incredibly rude that he didn’t go out to greet Nie Mingjue himself.

Well, better the other Sect Leaders learn to manage their expectations early when it comes to Jiang Cheng.

“Jiang Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue greets him when he enters Jiang Cheng’s study, and Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes at him.

“Sect Leader Nie,” he gives back, but Nie Mingjue waves him off.

“None of that, please.”

Jiang Cheng frowns but he doesn’t argue with Nie Mingjue.

“What brings you here,” he asks when it doesn’t seem like Nie Mingjue is going to talk, his gaze wandering around the study, and Jiang Cheng has a quick second to regret meeting him here.

But then remembers that this is Nie Mingjue, who is righteous and steadfast in a way not a lot of the other Sect Leaders are, and he reassures himself that he has nothing to fear from Nie Mingjue.

He would know it if Nie Mingjue wanted to harm him and his Sect, Jiang Cheng is sure of that.

“I have a proposal,” Nie Mingjue thoughtfully says but then stops himself. “But first I wanted to ask if you had any luck finding the other three disciples.”

“I did,” Jiang Cheng nods and gets the scroll. “Two of them are dead. I’m sorry. They died wearing my colours, which is probably why you didn’t find them. The third one is with me as well, and she is alive and healthy.”

Nie Mingjue scans the names and Jiang Cheng sees honest sorrow when he reads the names of the two deceased ones. 

Jiang Cheng knows the names of all his disciples, makes it a point to learn them, even though due to the recent influx of them he is a little bit behind, but he didn’t think anyway else bothered to.

Jin Guangshan certainly doesn’t seem the type, and neither does Lan Xichen, if he’s being honest.

“Thank you for finding them,” Nie Mingjue softly says and then quickly puts the scroll away.

“Don’t mention it,” Jiang Cheng gives back, more threatening than he actually means to, but this is making him uncomfortable now.

He shouldn’t be thanked for simply being a decent human being.

“Now, what’s the proposal?” he gruffly asks, desperate to change the topic and Nie Mingjue straightens up.

“We were wrong to leave you out of our sworn brotherhood,” Nie Mingjue starts with and Jiang Cheng already wants this conversation to end.

He doesn’t need to be reminded that despite whatever Nie Mingjue is saying right now, they did leave him out of it.

“And I know we can’t make up for it, because it’s already done, but I have an idea.”

Jiang Cheng hesitates for a moment, but then his curiosity wins out. He wonders what Nie Mingjue thinks he can do, given that he is already sworn brothers with Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao and a brotherhood of four is bad luck.

“Speak,” Jiang Cheng orders when Nie Mingjue falls silent again.

“You can swear brotherhood with Lan Wangji and Jin Zixuan,” Nie Mingjue proposes and Jiang Cheng shakes his head, because what?

“I know it’s not the same, since neither of them are Sect Leaders, though Jin Zixuan is the heir. But it would still strengthen your standing. It would also help you to protect Wei Wuxian, because I have seen the greedy look on Jin Guangshan’s face when it comes to the Stygian Tiger amulet, but I have also seen how Lan Wangji looks at your brother. I doubt he would let anything happen to him, if he’s given a chance.”

Jiang Cheng has to admit that Nie Mingjue is right about that—he had noticed it as well—but he still can’t help the bitter huff he lets out.

“And you get out of this without any bonds,” Jiang Cheng bitterly says, because it didn’t escape his notice that there was no mention of the Nie Sect in any of this.

“I wouldn’t,” Nie Mingjue gives back and puts a box on the table.

“What is this?” Jiang Cheng wants to know, eyeing the box with suspicion.

“A courtship gift,” Nie Mingjue easily replies and Jiang Cheng freezes.

“What? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I am not. A sworn brotherhood can only get you that far, especially since you can’t swear with any other Sect Leaders. So I am proposing a marriage.”

“Between me and—?” Jiang Cheng wants to know, because he can’t quite believe that Nie Mingjue would sell Nie Huaisang like this, but on the other hand he can’t see Nie Mingjue accepting a spouse either.

“Me,” Nie Mingjue says, much to the surprise of Jiang Cheng and then chuckles. “I wouldn’t sell Huaisang. If I was proposing a marriage with him, he would be here.”

Jiang Cheng gapes at Nie Mingjue because this is so far from anything Jiang Cheng had imagined that he can barely wrap his head around it.

“You must be joking,” he finally manages to say, but Nie Mingjue shakes his head.

“I assure you, I am not.”

Jiang Cheng allows himself to imagine it for a few moments; not only the support this would bring to him, but also the marriage in itself. He can see himself falling in love with Nie Mingjue—he’s a catch, really, if you don’t mention the qi deviations—but Jiang Cheng knows better than to expect the same in turn.

“I will not enter into a loveless marriage,” Jiang Cheng declares, thinking back to his own parents, but Nie Mingjue shrugs.

“You are a very attractive man, Jiang Wanyin. And I admire your strength, your resilience and your biting tongue, and how you all use it to hide the fact that you love your family and people. I can see myself falling in love with you, but that is what the courtship is for, is it not?” Nie Mingjue gives back and effectively renders Jiang Cheng speechless. “And even if it doesn’t work out, I doubt I’m going to live to old age. You’d be free of me sooner rather than later.”

“You actually mean it,” Jiang Cheng finally chokes out, deciding to ignore the last part for now, and Nie Mingjue pushes the box towards him.

“Of course I do. I do not have the time for lies and deception.”

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng agrees, because that he actually noticed before.

Nie Mingjue is the most no-nonsense person Jiang Cheng has ever encountered, and he knows Lan Wangji.

Jiang Cheng reaches out for the box with shaking hands, and he lets out a startled laugh when he opens it.

It’s full of nails.

“I thought you could need some funds to rebuild Lotus Pier. This was the easiest to carry with me,” Nie Mingjue sheepishly admits and Jiang Cheng chuckles again.

“You’re not actually wrong,” he admits and closes the box again. “If we’re doing this, there will be a proper courtship, Mingjue,” Jiang Cheng dares to say, figures if this is really happening then they better get used to this sooner rather than later, and Nie Mingjue nods.

“I wouldn’t want anything else,” Nie Mingjue replies with a smile and Jiang Cheng is startled to see dimples appear on his face.

He didn’t know about that. It could be a problem.

“Stay for the mid-autumn festival,” Jiang Cheng finds himself saying and is taken off guard when the smile grows in its intensity.

“With pleasure.”

~*~*~

When Nie Mingjue insists that they send a lantern off together, Jiang Cheng is not as surprised as he would have been a week ago.

Nie Mingjue stayed the whole week in Lotus Pier, helping with the rebuilding, but also actively courting Jiang Cheng, and Jiang Cheng has to admit that he didn’t think Nie Mingjue even had one romantic bone in his body.

He had been wrong.

Sending off a lantern together, like only lovers would do, does not actually come as a surprise.

When the lantern drifts off, taking Jiang Cheng’s wish with it, he can’t help but to look over at Nie Mingjue.

The other man is already looking at him, and there’s something so soft in his look that it makes Jiang Cheng’s knees weak.

Jiang Cheng fights the instinct to run away and hide from that look—if this is going where Jiang Cheng finds himself hoping it will go he will have to get used to this, he’s sure of that—and instead he leans up on his toes to press a kiss to Nie Mingjue’s cheek.

Nie Mingjue freezes in surprise, Jiang Cheng can feel it, but he also puts a hand to Jiang Cheng’s waist, keeping him close and Jiang Cheng finds himself enjoying that more than he maybe should.

“I didn’t think my wish would be fulfilled this quickly,” Nie Mingjue mutters, much to Jiang Cheng’s embarrassment and he hides his face in Nie Mingjue’s shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m not used to getting what I wish for either,” he gives back and then feels how Nie Mingjue presses a kiss to the top of his head.

“Well, then it’s something we can get used to together,” Nie Mingjue decides and Jiang Cheng nods.

He’s actually looking forward to it.

Link to my ko-fi on my sidebar.

[brattyfics]

“I don’t love you anymore” | Part 2

Summary: After making it clear that he does not believe in divorce, Miguel’s wife is forced to take matters into her own hands. The previous installment can be found here. I used the following prompt lines: “How long are you going to keep this up?’ “Yeah, I remember the drill.” “Do you even know what you’ve done to me?” | Part Three |

Pairing: Miguel Galindo x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Dark-ish Miguel, domestic violence/abuse.

Word Count: 2.4K

A/N: First of all, thank you to @my-little-wolfe​ for bouncing ideas back and forth with me, and convincing me to resolve this. A lot of you wanted the reader to have redemption. This is my idea of that. It’s not what many of you would have predicted, but it’s the most realistic version of events I saw happening. I’d love hear what you all think about how things shook out, let me know :)

In the backseat of a sleek, black Mercedes s550, you sat on cushy leather seats. Clay red passed by in a blur through the tinted windows. The desert reminded you of how you felt inside; desolate. Spotty patches of green freckled the dry dirt, small but persistent life signs despite the harsh conditions. 

Nestor sat in front of you, eyes glued to the road ahead with the driver to his left. Next to you in the backseat sat your husband, Miguel. None of you dared to speak, save for Miguel asking for the ETA. Everyone knew a few simple words had the potential to spark a flame between the two of you. Almost a month had passed since your marriage had been irreparably damaged. You confronted Miguel about his infidelity. He made his position on divorce clear. You were no longer under any delusions of a happy or at the very least amicable ending. 

Security around the house had doubled. Multiple guards were with you at almost all times, inside or outside of the house. The only time you got a semblance of privacy was when you locked yourself in one of the guest bedrooms. He always sent someone to return you to your shared bedroom at night, but you were grateful for any time away from him. You spent dark, lonely nights on opposite sides of your California King Bed. The distance between you was not only physical. Besides a simple 'yes' or 'no' when necessary, you didn't speak to Miguel. He had you temporarily trapped physically, that much was obvious, but you refused to let him have the satisfaction of capturing your spirit.

The only reason you sat next to him in the confined space was Santo Padre's annual charity event. Miguel was obligated to attend, and by extension, so were you. Like the good little wife you had been groomed to become, you dressed and accessorized to impress. You wore a designer cocktail dress, large diamond stud earrings, and a full face of makeup. All of it was to distract people from the real picture. Your reflection reminded you of how things used to be. The bells and whistles were expected of Mrs. Galindo. What you couldn't dress up were your eyes. Gone were the twinkles that once shone bright. They had been replaced by marble--hard and pretty but ornamental.

"How long are you going to keep this up?" You kept your eyes trained on the desert as your husband spoke. He should've already learned to respect you weren't talking to him. Out of your periphery, you saw Miguel make quick work of his sunglasses, stashing them in the case. "You're going to have to talk to me sometime." He used the same condescending tone that made you want to throw things at his head. Your fingernails dug into your palm as you resisted the urge to spew venom. Stop talking to me, asshole.

It was Miguel who struck first, strong fingers gripping your chin tightly. You jerked back at the invasion of personal space, swatting at his hand as if it were a pesky fly. He took your fiery reaction as a challenge, snatching you forward by your neck. You clawed at his hand, but his grip remained firm. Nestor eyed the two of you in the rearview mirror. He knew better than anyone how vicious Miguel could be when provoked. The driver's gaze didn't stray once from the road. They were trained to protect Miguel and if things got ugly, even Nestor would not step in to protect you.

"I know the drill…" His grip loosened when your eyes met. "Don't worry. I won't embarrass you in front of your colleagues, Mr. Galindo." Your shared last name was said with a sneer. Miguel didn't appreciate the sass, but he finally let you go, recoiling back into the seat. He shrugged his shoulders, adjusting his suit jacket while you rubbed your throat. You had been wheezing moments earlier, and his first priority was to preen.

If looks could kill, Miguel Galindo would be six feet under. 

"Do you even know what you've done to me?" You growled out. The accusatory tone had both men in the front seat on edge. With bated breath, Nestor watched Miguel casually pick up his phone. The cartel boss tapped at the touch screen as if you didn't even exist. 

It all happened in a blur. 

Your hands clenched into fists, and then they were flying, raining down blows everywhere. The car jerked, then swerved, and eventually pulled over. Angry red patches littered Miguel's skin where your fists made contact. At one point, he had you pinned down in the seat. The entire thing was like an out of body experience. As much as you wanted to stop, you couldn't control yourself. He was whisked off to another car by one of the guards, leaving behind a trail of buttons and blood on the nude interior. Nestor claimed the driver's seat, riding you around in circles while waiting for you to calm down. You were hysterical, batting the bulletproof glass repeatedly and yanking wildly on the childproof looks. It took hours. In the end, your knuckles were bloody and bruised, throat raw from yelling.

For the first time since you got married, you slept alone.

Several days passed without Miguel returning home. You didn't care if he was across the border or down the street at his mistresses' house. He could take an extended vacation to hell for all you cared. All you cared about was using the time alone to your advantage.

Miguel had carefully selected four guards to stay behind and watch over you. You didn't know any of them well, and that was on purpose. Since your first falling out, Miguel had gotten paranoid about you escaping. Anyone he thought had a soft spot for you was banned from the house. What Miguel didn't consider was that you could run circles around the new guys. You ran the household as normal, keeping them busy with errands and the occasional household chore. You were sure no one suspected anything. Plus, it allowed you the time and privacy you needed to execute your plan.

You received a call an hour earlier that let you know the plan could proceed as planned. Miguel could be home at any moment, and you had no more time to waste. Your purse was packed to the brim with essentials-- travel-sized toiletries, underwear, and wads of cash. You couldn't even fit a change of clothes, but you would have to make due.

With one last glance around what had been your shared bedroom, you made peace with never seeing it or him again. 

"I need you to take me to the mall." You instructed one of the guards as you made the trek down the stairs.

"Mrs. Galindo, I don't think—-" You paused at the bottom of the steps, cutting your eyes at him. The guard, Rick, was unsure of which order to follow. Miguel didn't want you out without pre-approval, but you were the one in front of him saying differently. 

"I wasn't asking." He didn't look convinced, looking over his shoulder nervously for back up from one of the other guards. "I have necessities to pick up. Do you want to be the one to explain why I don't have what I need to my husband?" 

"Mr. Galindo said—"

"I say." Your hands found your hips, preparing to dig in for an argument. Anxious energy bubbled up in your belly as another guard, Brian, approached. You could tell by the look on his face his answer would be no, so you spoke before he could. "I didn't want to get into details, but since you're determined to embarrass me, I'll just say it…" You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms for good measure, looking every bit the part of a spoiled brat. "I'm tired of fighting with my husband, okay? I want to pick up a gift for when he comes home, and I need it to be nice."

That did the trick. They all knew very well what gift was code for. What could a woman possibly get for a man that already had everything? Lingerie. 

Rick and Brian quickly discussed it with the others, and soon enough, you were in the car. The other two stayed behind to keep watch of the house, a decision they'd all regret soon enough. You spent the entirety of the car ride reviewing your plan from start to end, step by step. Any potential roadblocks that popped up, you had a tentative solution for.

Your heart beat intensely in your chest as the large building came into view. Each step brought you closer to your new life, to freedom. Slowing outside the store, you turned to face your guards with a sweet smile. "Do you really have to follow me everywhere?" Nods in the affirmative were your only response. You made a face.

"We'll wait for you inside, ma'am. You'll be able to shop privately." Brian gestured for you to step inside. You expected as much so it didn't bother you.

"Thank you." 

A saleswoman greeted you as soon as she saw you, her face lighting up like a Christmas tree. Like everyone else, she knew who your husband was and that your presence could mean a big commission. You declined politely, eyes scanning the store for the woman you had come to see.  

Ariana turned the corner at the perfect time, appearing as a beacon of light. She had been one of your best friends growing up, but over time you grew apart. She had her hand in the pot of illegal activities in and around Santo Padre, with Miguel's oversight, of course. You would never have thought the shoplifting pre-teen she had once been would climb the underworld ranks to be in a position to save your life.

Tears welled in your eyes as you hugged. "It's okay." She whispered in your ear, patting your back gently. "Smile." She instructed before pulling away. 

You shopped the store as if nothing was amiss, picking out different merchandise. Eventually, you separated, Ari sneaking off to the dressing rooms while you approached your guards. Your breath quickened at the scowl on Brian's face. 

"All the stress eating has finally caught up to me." You laughed, but he remained stone-faced. "I need to be measured." You gestured over your shoulder to the dressing room. "It'll only take a few minutes." You did your best not to overthink each step you took, feeling his intense glare on your back.

Once out of his eyesight, you bypassed the dressing rooms, choosing to step inside the door marked 'Employees Only.' Ariana waited for you there, shoving a full backpack into your arms. 

"Everything you will need is in there: a new ID and a passport. I even got a hold to a social security number for you. Memorize the information on your paperwork. You don't want to get caught up over something stupid."

You trembled as you processed the information, trying your hardest to breathe in and out deeply.

"Here's a set of keys. The silver Camry is parked directly across from the stairway on level three. The car's clean, registered with insurance and everything so you don't have to worry about being stopped. It has a full tank, and that should last you 600 miles if you're even going that far..." You adjusted the backpack on your back, squeezing the handles of your handbag extra tight. "...There's a cooler with a couple of waters and sandwiches so you won't have to stop." The large handbag hit the floor with a thud. You clasped her hands in your own to stop her rambling. 

"Thank you." She swallowed hard, and this time tears welled up in her eyes. "Don't worry, okay? No matter what happens, you did everything you could for me. I'll never be able to repay or thank you enough. I know you're risking a lot..." She shook her head, silencing you.

"You're worth it. Just do me a favor: live a happy life and never come back."

With one last hug, you were off, gaining a head start in the race against El Diablo.

You knew Miguel inside and out--how he would react to the news, and how he would respond. The Galindo Cartel had eyes and ears everywhere. Gas stations, airports, train stations, bus stations were all danger zones. All it would take is a single phone call for you to be caught. He would send men out to scour the city, figuring you couldn't have gotten far. While they wasted their time above ground, you'd be on the move underground.

Miguel would never expect you to use his tunnels to escape. When you had gotten married, he handed over a packet of papers. Among them were resources, numbers you could call, people you could trust if something ever happened to him, and you needed to get out. Also, among the papers were maps of the tunnels. They were hard to make sense of at first, but you studied them relentlessly. One wrong turn could spell disaster, send you in the wrong direction and right back into his arms but you had faith in your abilities. 

Besides human error, there was the issue of danger in the tunnels. People associated with him (and some not) used the tunnels to have meetings between shadowy figures or cross between California and Mexico. Smugglers used them to transport El Diablo's heroin. You could run into someone who knew you or worse someone who didn't. Without your husband's protection, you were just a lone woman making a long, perilous journey. It was entirely possible you'd meet your demise, and it'd have nothing to do with Miguel.

There was a very slim chance you'd make it out alive. If you were lucky, you'd eventually make it to the great state of Louisiana. You had friends there that would take you by boat to Mississippi. From there, you’d drive another car down to Florida. If you made it that far, you'd take the risk of getting on a plane. You’d fly to Europe where it would be easier for you to travel between countries. 

No matter where your journey ended, it would be well worth it. You wouldn’t live under Miguel's thumb any longer.

GENERAL TAGLIST

@WOAHITSLUCYYLU @BRIANNAB1234 @SHEESHGIVEMEABREAK @BREAKINGNEWSIN-NO-ONEASKED @ANGELREYESGIRL @BLESSEDBOO @GLIMMERGLITTERGIRL @APANTHERINMYPASTLIFE @BROWNSUGARCOFFY @MARVELMAREE @STARRYNITE7114 @SCUZMUNKIE

MIGUEL TAGLIST

@thesandbeneathmytoes

PART TWO REQUESTS

@blacvenus @myakai13 @losolvidad0s @my-little-wolfe @karensraisns @krysiewithak @langiinspirations @veryfastspeedz @stitchesbystults @itskiranbitch @fanficfavesofthephoenixfangirl @thisobssessionofmine

[twomanyideas]

The Way To A Man's Heart - Chapter 2

A collaboration by @mdelpin and @oryu404​

AO3 | Prev: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Next:

Chapter 2

The hotel was fancier than Natsu remembered from their previous visit with Happy, Erza and Lucy, but he wasn’t all that concerned about it. Stuff like that had never mattered to him. He was much more worried about the line of people waiting to get into the restaurant. He’d been about to complain about it, but he never got the chance.

“Relax, Pyro. We have a reservation, remember?”

Right. And he was thankful for that. Outside of the unexpected train ride, this dinner had been a godsend. The perfect solution to what had been shaping up to be an uncomfortable situation.

Natsu loved his guildmates; they were his nakama after all, but they were too damn nosy for their own good. It was bad enough that they’d already made Gray’s life miserable by encouraging Juvia’s antics despite his constant rejections, but now it seemed they’d set their sights on him.

He knew he should have expected it, but he’d hoped that they would have interpreted his lack of romantic interest in Lucy for what it was. Instead, they’d decided he was oblivious, and encouraged her as well.

Natsu loved Lucy dearly. He just wasn’t in love with her, but he didn’t want to hurt her by telling her that. He’d kind of hoped she’d get bored by his lack of response and move on to someone else. Someone like Loke, who was clearly crazy about her. But that hadn’t happened yet, and even worse, he’d overheard Mira telling Cana that Lucy planned to make her move that night.

He’d jumped at the chance to escape the guild. A night full of food and drink was just what he’d been in the mood for, and the prospect of hanging out with Gray intrigued him.

He followed Gray to a podium, where a hostess greeted them. That already was a big change from the places they usually ate. The hostess verified their reservation and handed them off to a server, who led them down a dimly lit hallway and into a small room.

“Your table isn’t ready yet, but this is our lounge,” she announced with a smile. “It’s not as noisy as our main bar, and you can still enjoy a drink while you wait.”

She gestured towards the lounge’s bar area and left. Music played softly on the room’s music lacrimas, and along with the usual bar stools there were several sofas that looked more expensive than Natsu’s house, contents included. He decided the bar stools were probably safer.

The lounge had large windows, giving them a splendid view of the ocean.

“Oh wow, this is great!” he exclaimed, watching the people on the beach enjoy the warmth and beauty of the setting sun. Everyone looked like they were having so much fun, and there had been so many stalls to check out. He longed to go join them.

When was the last time they’d been able to do anything fun?

“Yeah,” Gray agreed. “Maybe we can check it out after we eat? Mavis knows I won’t be able to get you back on the train after that.”

Natsu hated to admit it, but Gray probably had a point. They took their seats, and the bartender walked over to them.

“Can I interest you in a drink?” she asked politely. “Yeah.” Gray pored over the wine and cocktail menu he received. “Could we get two of those magic drinks?” “Excellent choice, Sir. Two Magic Wonders coming right up.”

Natsu’s stomach rumbled as the smell of food wafted over to them, causing Gray to roll his eyes at him. Gray got the bartender’s attention again and added, “Can we get an order of your spiciest appetizer too?”

“Sure thing.” The bartender put their order in and continued to mix drink orders.

Gray got up and patted Natsu's shoulder, “There, don’t say I never did anything for you.”

“Hey, where you going?”

“To take a leak.”

He walked off and Natsu watched him go, amused to notice his friend had kept his shirt on for once. It felt almost unnatural. His eyes lingered briefly on Gray’s broad shoulders, traveling down his back, and before he even knew what he was doing, he found himself staring at Gray’s ass and thinking about how nice it was.

“Oh, and try not to destroy the place while I’m gone.”

Gray turned around then, a teasing smile on his face which turned into a wink when he noticed Natsu’s eyes on him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Natsu spluttered, his cheeks red with indignation, or at least that’s what he told himself, refusing to acknowledge for the moment that his best friend had caught him checking him out. Gray’s parting chuckle irritated him even more.

Stupid Ice Princess. Like he couldn’t be left alone for five minutes without getting into trouble. What did Gray think he was, a Vulcan in a pottery shop?

But seriously, what in the world had possessed him to do that?

It had to be Juvia. He cursed her for his sudden awareness. Ever since she’d joined the guild it had been Gray-sama this and Gray-sama that, until the guy’s name lingered in the air, working its way into Natsu’s brain like some kind of annoying hypnotic suggestion he couldn’t escape.

Yeah, that had to be it.

He went back to staring out the window while he waited for Gray to return.

0-0

Gray entered the restaurant’s bathroom, closing the door behind him quietly and checking the stalls to make sure they were empty before he allowed himself to react.

“Yes!” He pumped his fists in the air in celebration, smiling so widely he barely recognized himself in the mirror.

He had a chance! Natsu had been checking him out, and that had never happened before. At least, not that he’d ever noticed.

Feeling more confident that this plan might actually get him somewhere, Gray did his business, his head up in the clouds, filled with possible dream scenarios about how the evening could go.

You've got a little something there. Oh, it's me! Nah, too corny.

That sunset looks beautiful, doesn’t it? Not nearly as beautiful as you, though. Ugh… too sappy.

There had to be some smooth move he could make, something not too in-your-face yet still obvious enough even the Flame Brain would get it.

Well, whatever. He had Natsu all to himself tonight, with an enjoyable meal ahead of them and the beach to look forward to after that. He'd think of something. For now, he’d start small. Maybe he’d offer a compliment. Everyone liked those. Right?

Gray washed his hands, and after giving himself one last pep talk, he headed back to the bar. As he walked, he tried to remember a joke Loke had told him earlier. It had been a little crass, but he was sure Natsu would find it funny. Gray could almost hear Natsu’s laughter ringing in the air.

Yeah, just like that.

It took him a second to realize he hadn’t imagined it. As he got closer to the lounge, he could hear Natsu’s laughter loud and clear, and Gray thought it was the best sound in the world. A smile spread across his face, only to be wiped off immediately at the sight that greeted him at the bar.

More specifically, at the sight of the barstool he’d left behind, which was now occupied by none other than Sting Fucking Ew-cliffe.

He’d only been gone for a few minutes. Where had Sting even come from?!

Gray clenched his fists, fighting off the urge to grab the Sabertooth Master by the collar of his shirt and pull him out of his seat. But as much as he’d like to do something like that, he knew it was a bad idea. If he was a jerk, it would piss Natsu off and that would be the end of their evening.

Instead, he plastered a smile on his face and approached the two dragon slayers.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh, hey, you’re back,” Natsu said as his laughter died down. “Sting told me a joke.”

Sting offered Gray a half wave, looking unexcited to see him. The feeling was entirely mutual.

“Well, it was nice of you to stop by to say hello but don’t let us keep you.”

“Me? Nah, I’ve got time to spare. Our table isn’t ready either.” Sting casually rested his arm on the bar and turned to Natsu, “I’m surprised to see you guys here.”

Great. This was going to be awhile. Gray decided he might as well sit down and begrudgingly claimed the vacant stool on Natsu's other side.

“Our table?” He looked around, trying to spot anyone he might recognize from Sabertooth. “I don’t see anyone else here. Did you get stood up?” “Of course not! He’s just late,” Sting said, sounding pretty sure of himself even as his legs bounced on the edge of the stool and his eyes darted in the direction of the hallway they'd come in from.

“Stood up? So you’re on a date?” Natsu asked, pouting in disappointment and giving Gray a mini heart attack for a second until he added, “I thought maybe Rogue would join you.” Sting promptly stilled, staring at Natsu and blinking rapidly. “Uhm... Rogue is my date.”

Natsu laughed heartily, “Good one, but seriously, is it anyone we know?”

Gray winced, almost feeling sorry for the guy. Definitely not what you wanted to hear, especially not from someone you looked up to. With any luck, Rogue would get there before Natsu’s obliviousness destroyed Sting’s confidence any further. Although, he had to admit that would be fun to watch, too.

“Why wouldn’t it be Rogue? I mean, you and uhm-” Sting looked over at Gray, eyes narrowing in concentration and fingers snapping before he shrugged his shoulders- “him don’t strike me as dating either, but here you are.”

“Well, but aren’t you the Twin Dragons? I thought you guys were brothers.”

Brothers?!

How the hell could Natsu think that? Sure they were called the Twin Dragons, but they looked nothing alike. They even had different last names, for fuck’s sake.

Gray could only stare at him in amazement. He was in love with an idiot. Might as well say he was moronsexual.

Sting spoke up before Gray could call Natsu out.

“That’s just our team name, stupid. Do you really think I’d date my brother?”

“Do you really think Gray would ask me out on a date?” It started out as a chortle, but Natsu soon burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

Gray no longer thought it was the best sound ever.

“Why wouldn’t he? And I mean, look at this place-” Sting gestured at the fancy decor and the expensive furniture in the lounge- “It doesn’t exactly scream just friends, does it?”

Natsu shrugged, a faint smile still playing on his lips. "Nope, that’s not what happened here. I just overheard Gray talking about having a reservation at an all you can eat restaurant as part of a job reward and invited myself along."

It seemed his and Loke’s plan had worked a little too well. Gray desperately wanted to ask Natsu what he would have said if he had asked him out, but he wasn’t about to do that in front of Sting.

“You got a reservation as a reward? Man, I wish I’d seen that job.” Sting looked at Gray, eyes wide in disbelief. “I had to make one 3 weeks in advance!”

3 Weeks?!

Gray had no idea this place was that popular, and he wondered what strings Loke had pulled to get the last minute reservation. And more importantly, what he would ask for in return. He’d better make the most of it.

“Do you think Rogue will like it? It's our first date, so I wanted to impress him.” Sting looked around the lounge, suddenly eyeing the place with a look of dread.

“Um... sure,” Natsu said, “It has an awesome view of the beach and, you know, there’s food.”

“You’ve just described every restaurant in Akane,” Gray pointed out. Then again, he was pretty sure with restaurants, Natsu didn’t pay attention to anything outside of the food.

Natsu shrugged. “Where are our appetizers and drinks, anyway? Shouldn’t they be here by now?”

Gray silently agreed. He was hungry, and he’d really like for their date to start, minus the interloper.

“What about me? Do I look okay?” Sting stood up and turned around, eyes wide as he awaited their judgment.

“There’s something different about you. What is it?” Natsu muttered, tapping his chin with his finger as he studied Sting.

“Well, for one, he’s wearing an actual shirt.” Gray said with a frustrated sigh. This was not how he had envisioned their date going. What was it going to take to get rid of this guy?

Actually…

“You look fine, dude. Might have overdone it a bit on the cologne, though.”

“He’s not the only one.” Natsu scrunched up his nose. “You both smell like one of the Trimens.”

Gray bit back a retort, but Sting went into a panic, grabbing a napkin from the bar and scrubbing his neck. “Fuck, I knew it was too much. Does this help any? It doesn't, does it? I should clean it off.”

He bolted out of the lounge, dodging a few other guests who were being guided to their table, and shouting a “be right back” over his shoulder. Just as Gray had hoped he would.

“Take all the time you need,” Gray called out after him cheerfully, reclaiming his original seat because… well, he’d had it first.

“Well, that was something.” He said, glossing over that minor act of pettiness. “Didn’t think we’d bump into anyone we knew.”

“Hey, you think they'd be down for a fight later?” Nasu asked, punching his left fist into the palm of his right hand.

“Of course not. They’re on a date, moron. Do you really think they’d want to do something like that?”

“I would.”

“On a date?” Gray challenged, although he wasn’t sure why he was surprised. This was Natsu, after all.

“Yeah, why not? Aren’t you supposed to have fun on dates?”

Gray couldn’t really argue with that, and fighting with Natsu was always fun. He was about to suggest they spar later when he spotted the bartender coming their way.

“Two Magic Wonders, and some Firecracker Shrimp to whet your appetite,” she announced, arriving with their drinks and appetizer and setting them down before them. “Apologies for the long wait, we're fully booked tonight so we're a little backed up.”

Finally!

“I think they’re broken,” Natsu complained, examining the drinks with slight disappointment, “they just look like two glasses of plain water.”

Gray had to give him that one. This wasn’t what he’d expected from the so-called magically infused cocktails either.

“The spell is still unfinished,” the bartender explained. “You need to wrap your hand around the cup and focus some of your magic energy into it. It doesn’t need much-”

Gray could tell Natsu had stopped listening. Before she'd finished her sentence, he'd already grabbed the cup in his hand and set it on fire.

“Natsu!”

"Sir!"

He ignored the protests from both Gray and the bartender, keeping his attention on the glass, which had begun to shake in his hand. The liquid bubbled and turned bright red, and then it shot up like a failed potion, right into Natsu's face.

“You idiot! Do you ever think?!”

So much for not insulting him.

“Geez, relax, will ya? A little thing like that isn’t gonna hurt me,” Natsu pointed out, evaporating the liquid easily, as Gray had seen him do so many times. The bartender breathed an audible sigh of relief, wiping the remaining spillage from Natsu's drink off the bar with a cleaning rag. “I’ll be right back with another drink,” she assured them before moving to another section of the bar, where she restarted the mixing process.

“You’re still an idiot,” Gray grumbled, making Natsu laugh in response.

“Well, you know what they say, it takes one to know one.”

Gray opened his mouth to answer, but Natsu quickly changed the subject.

“Why don’t you try it then?”

“Gladly.”

Gray focused a small amount of magic on his hand and wrapped the glass in a thin layer of ice. As soon as he did so, bubbles sprouted from the bottom, rising to the surface and forming a vortex that spun until the liquid had changed color from clear to the vibrant blue of glacier ice. Vapor rose from the liquid’s surface and transformed into small snowflakes that gently floated back down into the drink.

“That’s so dainty. Precisely what I’d expect from an Ice Princess,” Natsu snickered. “I bet mine’s gonna be way cooler.”

“I just hope the restaurant’s still in one piece by the time you’re done.”

Gray took a small sip, swishing the contents around in his mouth and closing his eyes.

The liquid was cold, so much so that it sent a small but welcome shiver up his spine. Hints of chocolate and peppermint danced on his tongue, reminding him of when he’d lived with Ur and Lyon.

Their training had been intense, but on days when she’d been pleased with their progress, Ur had made him and Lyon hot cocoa that tasted much like this. She had made them responsible for crushing the candy mints, and they would bicker about the best way to do it as Ur laughed at them from behind the stove. He could almost picture it, and rather than cause him the usual grief, the memory made him smile.

He opened his eyes to find Natsu watching in rapt fascination, his curiosity just about bursting out of him.

“Well? What did it taste like?”

Gray didn’t answer right away, still caught up in his memories. It took him a while to even register that Natsu was staring at him, focusing on his lips as if he’d never seen them before.

Gray thought of how to describe it, and suddenly he knew. “It tastes like winter.”

And just like that, Natsu snapped out of his trance, bouncing in his seat with excitement. “Ooh, me! I want to try winter!” Gray covered his drink with his hand, fixing Natsu with a glare that screamed at him to back off.

“Come on, don’t be so stingy! I don’t have a drink.”

“And whose fault is that? Besides, I don’t know where your mouth has been. No way I want that in my drink!”

Natsu pouted, but soon mischief crept into his eyes. Before Gray could consider what that could mean, Natsu had already grabbed his hand. Gray’s heart beat faster, not sure where Natsu was going with this, but excited just the same. Natsu’s tongue darted out, licking a stripe across the palm of Gray’s hand while maintaining eye contact.

Holy shit!

“Now you do,” Natsu grinned, looking quite pleased with himself even as Gray struggled to come up with an appropriate reaction. He took advantage of that, grabbing Gray’s glass and taking a sip.

“What do you know! Your magic actually tastes good, kind of like peppermint hot chocolate.”

Gray looked away, not wanting Natsu to see just how much his little stunt had affected him.

“So, uh, what were you thinking about? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile like that before.”

“My drink tasted like the hot cocoa Ur used to make for us,” Gray said, relieved to be back on more comfortable ground.. “I hadn’t thought about that in a long time.”

“Why didn’t you just say that, you dumbass? I wouldn’t have pushed.”

“Yeah, you would have.” Gray chuckled.

Natsu tried to deny it, but he must’ve known it was a stretch, so he laughed along with Gray. “Okay, yeah. I would have.” He grabbed a Firecracker Shrimp and chewed on it. And for the second time since they’d arrived, Gray caught him staring out the window. “Another Magic Wonder,” the bartender returned with Natsu's drink. She'd also brought a fire extinguisher, and was trying, but failing, to hide it subtly under the bar.

If Natsu had noticed, he didn't seem to be bothered by it, focusing only on the glass in front of him.

“Don't overdo it this time,” Gray reminded him.

Natsu furrowed his brow in concentration, coating his glass in a small flame and anxiously watching the liquid change color again. It slowly turned that same intense red from before. Instead of the vapor from Gray’s drink, there was a plume of smoke that transformed into a bright flame that remained lit.

He eyed it for exactly one second before drinking all of it down in one gulp.

Gray had expected Natsu to react in some over the top manner. To yell, or go on about how his drink was superior, just like his magic, but there was only silence. That wasn’t exactly true, though. Now that he was paying more attention, Gray could see that Natsu’s eyes were teary.

“Natsu?” Gray put a hand on his arm, worried by the uncharacteristic change. “What’s happening?”

“I’m fine, it’s just- it tasted like Igneel’s fire,” Natsu sniffled, hugging the cup to his chest with reverence. “It’s been so long since I last tasted it and now it’s all gone.”

Oh no! Natsu looked like he was ready to cry. That wasn’t supposed to happen on a date! Gray panicked, not knowing what to do or say to make Natsu feel better. He looked at his drink, still sitting on the bar, and considered offering it to him.

Idiot! He won’t want your stupid drink after tasting Ignel’s fire. Oh, of course! How dense could he be? He could order him another one.

“Don't worry, I’ll get you another one.”

Gray scrambled out of his seat after glimpsing the bartender serving a customer at the other end of the bar.

“I’ll be right back,” he called over his shoulder, determined to fix this slight glitch in his plans.

He waited as patiently as he was able for her to finish.

“I need another Magic Wonder.”

“Sure, I’ll put in an order, but it’s going to take a while. We’re very backed up.”

“Isn't there something I can do to speed it up?” He thought of the jewels in his pocket. “I can pay extra if that helps.”

“Sir, I already-”

“Please? This can literally make or destroy my night.”

The bartender glanced over at Natsu, who still looked despondent, hugging the empty glass to his chest. Her expression softened slightly. “Alright, I’ll do it just this once. Stay right there.”

Gray nodded, tapping his fingers on the bar as he waited. A couple sat next to him blocking his view of Natsu but he dared not move, worried the bartender might decide to give the drink to someone else.

As soon as she returned with his order, Gray turned around, almost dropping the drink he'd shamelessly begged for when he saw his bar stool once again occupied by someone who wasn't him. Any relief he might have felt that it wasn't Sting this time was overshadowed by dismay at seeing Rogue talking to Natsu, leaning in ever so slightly and nodding in sympathy.

Oh, come on!

He all but stomped his way back over, still careful not to spill any of the drink, knowing he wouldn’t be able to get another for quite a while.

“You’re in my seat,” Gray informed Rogue, attempting to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know.” Rogue got up and moved to stand on the other side of Natsu.

“Here you go,” Gray said, placing the fresh drink in front of Natsu before reclaiming his seat.

He watched as Natsu put the glass he had been holding on the bar and stared at the new drink with something akin to awe. He cupped his hand around it and let out the barest flicker of magic to complete the spell.

“Are you okay?” Gray asked worriedly, not used to seeing Natsu act this way.

“Yeah, I just don’t want to waste any of it.”

The way he said that made Gray feel like he was intruding, so he turned his attention to Rogue, who still stood peering into the dim corners of the lounge.

“You’re looking for Sting, right? He’s in the bathroom,” Gray informed him, frowning as he realized the Sabertooth Master had been gone for quite some time. “Come to think of it, he’s been in there a while.”

Rogue looked heavenward and sighed. “Great. I hope he's not munching on the paper towels again.”

“Seriously? That’s disgusting!” Gray pursed his lips in distaste.

“Meh, he’s eaten worse things.” Rogue shrugged, taking a seat next to Natsu.

To Gray’s slight surprise, he in no way looked like he was about to go on a first date. As far as Gray could tell, Rogue looked just about the same as he always did, contrary to Sting, who had obviously dolled himself up for the occasion like a teenage girl.

Gray leaned back so he could see past Natsu and study the shadow dragon slayer better, wondering if he was about to deal with another nervous wreck. But Rogue showed no signs of being anxious. If anything, he looked tired and frazzled, which Gray guessed made sense. The guy was late, probably just rolled off a train.

“Is something wrong? Was this your seat too?” Rogue frowned at him, realizing he was under scrutiny.

“Huh? Oh, no. I’m just surprised. The way Sting was talking earlier I thought you’d be more into this,” Gray said, turning his attention back to Natsu.

He seemed to have calmed down, although he appeared to be in deep thought while staring at his drink. Gray supposed there was a first time for everything. He’d give him a few more minutes to snap out of it. It’s not like they could get anywhere until they were either called to their table or Sting got out of the damn bathroom.

“This? This what? You mean the restaurant?”

“He means Sting,” Natsu said, joining the conversation when Gray least expected it.

“What about Sting?” “If you don't like him, just tell him. He's your friend. You should be honest with him about how you feel.”

Rogue flinched so hard he almost slid off his seat. “I- What? What the hell are you talking about?”

Gray began to suspect that Rogue was as clueless as Natsu as to why he was there.

“Rogue! You made it!” Gray, Natsu and Rogue all turned towards Sting’s voice, which could somehow be heard over all the other noise. He walked toward them in quick steps and Gray brought his hand up to his mouth to cover up the laugh he couldn’t contain.

Sting’s shirt was covered in wet spots. His hair, which had been styled in perfectly gelled spikes, had flattened into bangs, and there was a long piece of toilet paper attached to one of his shoes.

He’d gone to wash off some cologne, but had returned looking like a survivor of some bizarre bathroom battle, and somehow he still reeked of cologne. But you wouldn't know it from his beaming smile.

Sting walked up to Rogue, reaching into his pocket and pulling out... something Gray couldn’t make out at first because he shoved it at Rogue with such speed that it became nothing but a blurry shape.

“Here, for you.” Sting said, placing what looked to be a small box into Rogue's hand.

“What’s this for?” Rogue said, breaking away from the mess that was Sting, to glance down at the box.

“Open it.”

Rogue slowly slid the elastic bow off and opened it. Whatever was inside caused him to jerk his head back toward Sting with wide eyes.

“Oh.”

“Do you like it?” Sting stared at Rogue in a way that Gray recognized, with a face full of hope and hearts in his eyes.

“I-I uh,” Rogue stuttered, looking back and forth rapidly between Sting, Gray, Natsu, and the lounge. “Give me a minute...”

“You know, I‘m thinking Rogue didn’t know this was a date.” Natsu whispered in Gray’s ear, which was to say he’d blurted it out in a voice loud enough to make his ears ring.

“You think?”

“Yeah, I do,” Natsu nodded, the obvious sarcasm flying straight over his head. “I kinda feel bad now. Maybe we should have told him.” Gray stiffened, Natsu’s words along with the advice he’d offered Rogue earlier echoed through his head. No matter how the thought caused his stomach to twist itself into knots, he knew he’d have to be honest about his intentions at some point. Natsu was his friend too, he deserved as much. “Is that true?” Sting’s shoulders slumped upon hearing the less than subtle conversation between them. “But I asked you and everything.” “Yes, I realize that now,” Rogue said, sounding a bit snappy, which Gray couldn’t blame him for. He gathered himself quickly, though, taking a deep breath and getting up from his seat. “Come-” he grabbed Sting’s hand and led him to a sofa that had just opened up when a couple was called to their table. Gray took another sip of his drink, mirroring Natsu, who he could tell was focusing his ears on the Twin Dragons’ conversation. Under any other circumstance, Gray wouldn’t give a damn about how that would unfold, but the possibility of having a heartbroken Sting join them for the rest of the night changed things a bit. He nudged Natsu, raising his eyebrows in silent question. Natsu didn’t answer, still listening, but if his expressions were anything to go by, it was not going well. Fuck. Please. This can’t be happening… Curiosity getting the best of him, Gray peeked over his shoulder. Sting looked positively dejected, and the visible part of Rogue's face looked no better. “Well, this is awkward.” Gray turned back to Natsu, not sure if he’d be able to watch that train wreck in his current situation. Would his night end like that, too? “Yeah,” Natsu sighed, but then he perked up and started laughing. “Actually, I think they’ll be fine.” “Oh-” Gray absently grabbed a shrimp and began eating- “Good for them.” “Uhm, Gray…” “Hmm?” Gray grabbed another and chewed lazily, not realizing that Natsu might’ve been trying to warn him until he felt his lips and tongue burning with the heat of a thousand suns. He swallowed what was still in his mouth in one go, sending the burn down his throat now as well, and broke out in a violent coughing fit. The blazing heat spread through his entire body fast, setting his skin on fire and causing sweat drops to form on his face. Whose stupid idea was it to get the spiciest appetizer?! Oh, right, that would be him. God bless his icy drink. He gulped it all down, only half hearing Natsu’s rambunctious laughter.

“Who the hell deemed this safe for consumption?” he gasped, fanning at himself in a sorry attempt to cool down.

“Someone who's not an Ice Princess like you,” Natsu snickered, holding out a shirt that looked awfully familiar.

Damn it! How did that happen?!

Gray grabbed his shirt and put it back on before anyone could complain, calling on his magic to help cool himself down.

Natsu shook his head, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “Pervert.”

“I can’t help it!”

“I know, Ice Block, I know.” Natsu finished the last of his drink and set it back down on the bar, his eyes straying back to the window for a full minute before peering back at Gray.

“Listen, I know this was a big part of your reward and everything, but do you mind if we take off?”

“You want to go back home?” Gray was crestfallen. He’d thought they were having a good time, outside of the unexpected drama.

“I didn’t say that, but it’s hard to sit still when I know that’s waiting for us,” Natsu said, pointing at the beach. “I’ll even pitch in since it’s my idea.”

Gray thought about it. This restaurant had been Loke’s idea and as far as he was concerned it had already served its purpose. If Natsu would rather go to the beach, then they’d do that. It was bound to be more fun. Plus, this way, if Natsu reacted badly to his confession, he wouldn’t have to worry about property damage.

As much.

“Yeah, we can do that.”

“Wow, that was easier than I thought. That shrimp too much for you?” Natsu taunted.

Gray ignored him, focusing on finding the bartender so he could close their tab. Luckily, she was heading towards him. He was just about to address her when a voice spoke up next to him. “Hey there! Can I get two of the Magic Something drinks?”

“Yes, of course,” the bartender assured Sting. She turned to Gray. “I believe your table should be ready any minute. Would you like anything else?”

“No, thank you. We actually won’t be needing that reservation after all.”

“Alright then, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“You’re leaving?” Rogue asked, appearing by Sting’s side. “But you haven’t even eaten yet.” “We passed a ton of food stalls on the way here,” Natsu said, already sounding excited by the prospect. “Besides, the food they serve here is too spicy for the Ice Princess.”

Gray glared, “Oy! That shrimp was the spiciest appetizer they had.”

Rogue rolled his eyes at the exchange, “You two sound like a married couple.”

"Well, you kinda look like one," Natsu laughed, pointing at the necklace Rogue was now wearing. A thin silver chain with a crystal pendant that was identical to the one dangling from Sting's ear.

"Oh, shut up," Rogue huffed, clutching the piece of jewelry as his cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink than Natsu's hair.

“I’m glad things worked out,” Gray said, mostly to be polite. He winced as he heard people scream in panic as they witnessed Natsu drying off Sting’s clothing with his fire. He could almost hear the bartender rushing to the extinguisher. Why didn’t the idiot ever think?

Yeah, going to the beach was probably for the best.

"Me too." Rogue eyed the spectacle warily. "Sorry you got dragged into that."

“Yeah, it was… something.”

“He means well.” Rogue smiled apologetically, but his eyes were soft with affection. "Oh. That reminds me, can you thank Natsu for me? He was right."

“Now there’s something you don’t hear every day.”

Rogue snorted into his hand, looking less tired than he had when he'd just arrived. "Alright. Get Natsu out of here before-"

Whatever Rogue said after that became inaudible when the screams increased and were almost immediately joined by the loud hiss of the fire extinguisher.

At a loss for words, Gray and Rogue watched the chaos of scattering guests, the bartender frantically trying to extinguish the fire, Sting inhaling the massive gust of white powder blasted at him, and a loudly cheering Natsu.

"... Just get him out of here."

“Good plan.”

Gray hurried over to the two dragon slayers, not about to give Rogue another second to reconsider his life choices. He grabbed Natsu by the arm and pulled him back towards their seats so he could pay for their tab.

“It’s on the house, please just go!” The bartender waved him away, looking like she was on the brink of having a complete meltdown.

“Thank you.” Gray took out his jewel pouch and placed a large tip on the bar, wanting to make up for some of what they had put her through.

Natsu, oblivious as ever, thanked her and waved blithely even as Gray dragged him out of the lounge.

They had almost reached the exit when Natsu shook off Gray’s arm.

“I can walk on my own, you know.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

They left the restaurant and walked through the lobby in silence until Natsu started giggling.

“The look on the bartender’s face when Sting ate that powder!”

Now that the restaurant was safely behind them, Gray couldn’t help but join in. Soon they were laughing so hard they had to hold on to each other to keep from falling down, earning them curious but mostly annoyed looks from the other patrons.