#so you pretend and put on a façade about everything being fine

[usuallyobsessedtmblr]

It's pretty interesting to me that akihiko actually seems to resent his family

From all his interactions with every member of his family (apart from his brothers) he seems to be a normal, loving child but in this episode he openly vents to harumi about how much he hates them for pretending everything is normal

Makes more sense as to why he trusts Daiki so much and this episode also serves to show us how much he trusts harumi now

[theunsinkableship1]

Things are not always what they seem...

⚠️Disclaimer: This is Lukolaland only. If you don't believe you should skip. No harm intended and no hard feelings. Only strong feelings here.

Dear Lukola Shippers,

I hope this message finds you well, no matter where in the world you are. Though I’ve been mostly quiet recently, I want you to know I’m still firmly aboard this ship, and the waters have felt calmer of late. We are witnessing great waves of success coming to our Lukola. Watching them thrive individually and achieve such success is a joy, it’s wonderful to see them striving and thriving in their unique journeys.

Today, I’d like to open up about something personal. It’s a topic that requires sensitivity but resonates deeply with what we often discuss as a community. Appearances can be deceiving.

Humans are complex beings, and we can never be entirely certain of what’s happening behind closed doors. Even when all signs seem to point in one direction, the reality could be something entirely different.

When I was younger, I was in relationships that seemed one way from the outside but were very different beneath the surface. Back then, I was seen as someone confident and put-together a "popular girl," if you will. But inside, I felt like a wallflower. People were drawn to the version of me they saw, not the person I truly was.

In one relationship, I fell deeply in love. To the outside world, we looked like the perfect couple. But the reality was far from that. I was shy and cautious, but I fell for one of the hit boys. I was deeply in love, but he wasn’t. I became more of a mix between a prop and a seat filler in his life. While I was publicly acknowledged, I wasn’t truly valued in his heart. Being young and in love, I sometimes acted jealous and irrationally, making poor decisions in my attempt to hold on to the relationship. While I gave my all, I never was someone that he truly cherished. I was young and blinded by my feelings, so I clung tightly to the relationship, convincing myself and others that everything was fine. Looking back, I realize that what people saw from the outside, the smiles, the handholding, was a façade for a connection that didn’t exist in his heart. His attention was always somewhere else.

Later, I entered another relationship. I was tired of being alone. All my friends were in relationships, and I found myself longing for one too. This time, it was with someone I became very close to through mutual friends. Though we had a strong bond, we quickly realized we weren’t a romantic match. Yet, for two years, we stayed in a "relationship" because it worked for both of us at that time, he was coming to terms with his own identity, and I was healing and waiting for the right person. To the outside world, we were a couple. We even lived together and shared milestones. But in reality, we were best friends who blurred the lines of companionship. Only our close friends knew the truth: to the outside world, we appeared to be a couple, but in reality, we were just best friends. Sometimes, things can get messy, and lines blur. While I was in this pretend relationship, someone from my past reentered my life, wanting to marry me. Things moved quickly, and even though my friend knew our arrangement was temporary and understood the situation, there might have been some emotional complexity. Perhaps I was ready to move on before he was, or maybe it was because we were emotionally intertwined in many ways. Societal perceptions could have played a role as well. I’m still not entirely sure. After my wedding, we went our separate ways. Though we remain on friendly terms, we are no longer close, and I haven’t heard from him in years.

Life is full of such complexities. For example, I have a chronic hormonal condition that, at times, makes me appear pregnant when I’m not. Years ago, this led to assumptions and speculation, especially early in my marriage. People congratulated me on pregnancies that didn’t exist, which was deeply painful as I faced uncertainty about whether I could have children. It taught me how much appearances can mislead even well-meaning people.

So, why share all this? Because as fans, it’s easy to speculate about the lives of people we admire. But the truth is, only they know what’s happening behind closed doors. I’ve noticed many people dismiss or deny the bond between them, but I believe we can’t be doubtful of its existence. I’m confident they are also aware of what they share. What we’re speculating about is what’s truly happening behind the scenes and why things are unfolding the way they are.

It all comes down to perception and observation. There’s something peculiar about this situation, too many coincidences for certain things to be purely incidental. Patterns emerge that can be explained rationally, and those who pay close attention recognize the mixed messages that make a straightforward narrative unlikely. Occam’s razor doesn’t apply neatly here.

Moreover, we have public evidence, not just imagined scenarios, that suggests there’s been something deeper between them at some point. The idea that 'there’s nothing more' doesn’t hold water because, where there’s smoke, there’s fire.

Appearances, whether on red carpets, social media, or interviews can only tell part of the story. And while our love for Luke and Nicola is real and rooted in admiration for their talent and chemistry, we must tread lightly.

I adore Luke’s subtle and nuanced acting and his incredible singing voice, which has a charm that captivates. Nicola’s range as an actress is extraordinary, and her vibrant personality shines through in everything she does. I support them both as individuals and as a couple because they make me believe in their connection.

I remain here because I believe in the love they seem to share, whether it’s in a glance, a gesture, or an unspoken understanding. Until the day there’s unequivocal proof otherwise, I’ll keep believing because they make me feel the love.

With love and hope,

The unsinkable ship 🚢

[ninadove]

@pegasusdrawnchariots anything for you, beloved! 🖤🪶

Imagine you’re Le Bret (because as you so elegantly said, we be Le Bret angstmaxxing in this house). You just had one hell of a night trying to stop your best friend from getting himself killed, then watching him invent a brand new eating disorder, then listening to his rant about his impossible love for your childhood friend, then trying to stop him from getting killed x100 (Porte de Nesles remix).

You wish your captain would put him on forced medical leave, but instead he drags your whole compagnie to the local bakery to toast to his elaborate suicide attempt. Whatever: you deserve a pastry for your trouble. Maybe you’ll even convince your friend to eat more than half a macaron today… BUT!!!!! Before you get a chance to even smell a single croissant, Cyrano has shot down a major career opportunity and insulted the cardinal’s nephew. To make things even worse, he’s screaming at you now, for the crime of [checks notes] not wanting to be hated by everyone.

OK, fine — he’s heartbroken, and you knew what you signed up for. At least you get the satisfaction of seeing through his mask, of being the only one who does — half of his soul, as the poets say. No one can take your place in his life, not even Roxane, especially since he keeps pushing people away.

And in comes THIS GUY

You and the gang think, at first, that Christian is pretty straightforward: he is 1. Not Gascon and 2. ✨ Very Pretty ✨, in this order of importance. But that façade only lasts ten minutes before he insults Cyrano’s nose! The others don’t get it, but you do: your friend’s freak has been matched, complemented even, by someone who is as just as suicidal as he is. And you know who else understands that immediately? Cyrano. He starts spending all his time with this guy he’s just met, neglecting you, for an entire act, spiralling faster than ever before, and maybe you’re exhausted, and maybe you’re jealous, and maybe, just maybe, you want to hate Christian.

Only hating Christian is impossible.

He’s so — gentle, behind all the bravado. Cyrano likes him, which automatically means the whole compagnie likes him; but even without that, he has an irresistible charm of his own. He’s earnest, too, in a way Cyrano pretends to be but isn’t.

(Christian is lying to Roxane just as much as his new esprit is, perhaps even lying to himself; but it’s not your job to be his safeguard, so you let yourself be duped.)

Suddenly war is upon you, and there’s no time left for complicated feelings: you’re all cramped together in an awfully precarious tent, bodies piling up before you’re even killed, sharing everything you have — which is very little. You’re not sleeping, because Christian is starving (mais toujours beau!). You’re not sleeping, because Cyrano is out there, trying to die faster.

You’re in desperate need of a miracle, and it comes in a horse-drawn carriage (and Clara Huet’s wonderful Act IV costume… ❤️): Roxane, the cause of this whole charade (but is she really?), Roxane, who you’ve loved since childhood (but may have grown to resent against your better judgment), Roxane, who is everything the war isn’t, but just as gasconne as the rest of your company (if not more!), Roxane of all people pulls through with food and wine and the promise of comfort in the face of inevitable death. You let yourself rest, if only because it will be the last time.

The next thing you know, Christian is dead.

It happened so fast, the first shot of the fight, when Cyrano has flown through thousands of bullets unharmed; but you suspect Christian wanted it a little. Now he’s lying in the mud, his blonde hair sullied by sweat and blood, Cyrano’s letter pressed to his pierced heart — cold and white and all torn up, mais toujours beau. Roxane is being dragged away, taking the hope she brought with her; and it’s just you standing now, a mass of weakened men charging at Death headfirst. Cyrano leads the attack, of course; and though the handkerchief he brandishes is Roxane’s, the blood that stains it is Christian’s.

Toujours beau. That’s how he remains, in Roxane and Cyrano’s memories, for the next 14 years.

Your friend perseveres in his principles, sharper perhaps than he was back then, but — something in his soul has shattered beyond repair. He’s still the finest blade you know, but his old wound makes his breath short at times; he still writes poetry, but it’s darker now, although almost imperceptibly so. Christian’s beauty, or the absence of it, is felt in every street of Paris, in every fold of Roxane’s veil, in the gashing space between you and your best friend; you mourn him, too, and keep his secret.

Until it spills out of Cyrano’s skull, and they make their way towards the moon together — leaving you behind.

[rhielizabethj]

You’ve trained me well. You stripped away my confidence, my back bone, my spirit and left me broken. Where did the pervious version of me go? I was healing, I was happy I was full of promise. Now I’m left shattered, confused, raw.

Everytime you told me I was stupid, I was the problem, everytime you would yell at me, slam doors in my face. Every time you’d diminish me to nothing I started to believe it. I’m left sitting here wondering what is so wrong about the person I am? Was I not loveable? Was I not good enough? Was I not worth working through your own trauma so you could show up in a healthy way for me? I feel unworthy of love, I feel like your words and treatment have rewired my brain. Everything you said to me feels like truth now, even though there’s a tiny piece of me screaming trying to make my brain understand it’s not the truth.

Little by little your abuse had its desired effect on me. I feel scared, I feel out of control. I feel like crawling back to you would be so much easier. We could pretend things are healthy and fine, you would probably be so nice to me at first. Saying how much you missed me, saying how sorry you are how you’ll change. It could be a few good months, maybe you’d be able to fill my cup up halfway before you switched and decided to smash it. We could play pretend and it would feel safe again, if only for momentarily.

But I think it’s safe to say we both know nothing will change. You fill my head with your distorted version of reality, lies, you make it seem like you want to change that you want to be a better man. You speak this into existence but the follow through is never there. It���s just another form of manipulation so you don’t have to face the pain of being alone. You twist into your distorted version and I start to believe it. I believe it because I want to be with you. I want to grow old with you, I love you. But then you yell at me, or block me from leaving our bedroom and I come crashing down to reality, I am forced to see things for what they are. They aren’t healthy, my feelings aren’t safe, this is not a safe environment to flourish with you.

The path I’m walking is unknown but there’s promise and hope. For once there’s hope, I know things will get better for me. I know day by day I’m healing. Every conversation I have with my therapist, best friend, people who have been in similar situations brings me to a place where I’m seeing through your façade of lies. I’m realizing the things you said to me and the way you treated me was wrong. You might never see your behaviour for what it really is, it’s hard to face the truth. Rose coloured glasses have been your vision for you to long. I tried to take them off and hold your hand, I tried to help you see the flaws and toxicity. I tried to hard to make things healthy.

Someone who comes from a place of love, compassion and kindness knows your actions are wrong. You don’t get to put your hands on someone and down play it, you don’t get to choke me and say I was drunk. You don’t get to blame my self defence as the problem. You don’t get to yell at me or continuously throw insult after insult at me. Your emotional abuse is quite literally that. It’s not love, it’s not kindness. You have that in you, I’ve seen the man you could truly be if you just committed to getting help, therapy, an outlet for your anger. You broke me down with every nasty thing you said to me, and now I wonder if this was your plan. Break me down so badly I become quiet and hide how you treat me. I think you hoped I’d stay this small accepting your crumbs when you felt like I was worth loving and when I wasn’t I was then punished with your acts of verbal abuse. You might not have left black eyes or broken bones. But the vile things you said has now imprinted on my soul. You’ve left a permanent scar in my heart and I’m so scared I’ll forever accept abuse with the next person I love. I’m scared that the impact you had on me will be permanent. That I’m tainted. That I’ll forever be apologizing for something that wasn’t my fault. You said I apologize to much but in an environment that made me feel like I was the problem, in an environment where it’s easier to just agree what more did you expect?

I don’t think I have ever been called so many names in the time span of two years. In two years I went from being the most amazing person, the most caring, most loving. You said you loved me so much that I was your light. But then you blew that light out and still expected me to guide the way. You wanted me to be your rock, but instead I became an actual rock. You hardened me, I shut down and grew a hard shell around me to protect me from the mean things you’d say.

I’m not a bitch, I’m not stupid, I’m not a cunt, I’m not crazy, annoying or unattractive. Im not ugly, I’m not a shitty friend, I’m not worthless, I’m not any of those things you said to me. You will never put your hands on me again, you will never smash a door into my back, or slam it in my face, you will never lock me out of a room or balcony again, you’ll never yell at me infront of my children again, you’ll never treat me like fucking scum in front of my friends again. You’ll never tear apart my relationship with my mom or family again. You’ll never isolate me, you’ll never make me feel like I have no one again. You’ll never bash my pervious relationship with my children’s father again. You’ll never bash my body or personal hygiene again. You’ll never tear apart my sexual acts again. You will never be able to treat me like that again. I’m realizing I won’t be someone you can keep in your back pocket for later. I won’t be here to see you continue to make the same mistakes with someone new, I won’t watch the new girl become “the problem” I won’t be here because I deserve better.

I was becoming a pathetic puppy dog chasing after you, you truly did train me well. Even after being broken up for a month and a half I’m still accepting you blaming me for everything. I’m still allowing you to be hot and cold with me, I’m still allowing you to ignore me and then gaslight me like none of this is happening. I’m still allowing shitty treatment and why, because you’ve trained me well.

I will always love you, I will always wish I was important enough to you to receive an apology, ownership for how you treated me, changed behaviour. But you’re not ready to see, you’re not ready to admit that maybe the abused became the abuser. I love you, but I love myself enough to let it all go. I love my self enough to release me from all of the pain, the broken promises, the abuse.

[itsvinzenzdarling]

Fine. He knew it was too good to be true. "Just so you know, Vinzenz, people do change. If that were not the case, my home would be destroyed just as much as yours was. Not all of us hunt your kind and you know damn well that is the case. But how can I believe an inkling of truth that comes from you if you do not listen to someone else's mind. I apologize for trying to be honest with you, or would you have rather me held my tongue around you, pretending like I do with every damn soul that graces my path. I am sorry fear is a natural response of the human mind, and I am sorry that such a thing is offensive to you. Maybe, if you were not ready to participate in a future where we do not normally kill each other, you should not have strung me along with such hopes and fallacies. I would have found out, whether by my own snooping or through word of mouth. That is why I asked if you were afraid of befriending the enemy spy. Sometimes, we do not have a choice. Yet you seem to act like I do." It was then that he just let his hurt show. He was so tired of hiding, of putting on this façade of being unaffected, of distancing his emotions so far from himself that they came back to eat him alive later. Laurent just cried, as much as it was humiliating to do, he was too tired to care right now. Taking the revolver from his holster, he popped out the magazine and tossed both separately into the dirt. "Are you done being afraid of me now?..."

How could none of that sound sincere? Everything he said blamed him for his flaws. He didn't feel better at all, he felt attacked. He didn't do any of this to hurt him, he had to treat everyone the same for his own protection! His teeth gnashed behind thin lips, his jaw muscles flexing and moving.

"You're not going to blame me for the faults of your kind," he seethed, feeling his fury grow with each accusation he deflected. "You're not going to blame me for protecting myself AND my family, you're not going to blame me for feeling violated, and you most CERTAINLY aren't going to blame me for feeling human emotions. You don't seem to understand that I wasn't hiding this to hurt you or anyone. Tell me, if you were in my position, what would you do? Would you disclose it upon first meeting, shout it from the rooftops to perfect strangers, or wait until you knew someone well enough that you could trust them with such a delicate secret? Or would you not tell anyone at all? And how would you react if you were accused of using it against someone just to hurt them? You don't understand how long we've had to hide, so excuse me for being so abrasive and wary to share this about myself. It's not common for vampires to tell humans about ourselves, there's no guide on how to do it."

Without sharing too much of his past, he just needed enough to convey that this was life or death for him. He doesn't know if he'll wake up one day to a hunter at his door, or another mob to run him out of town.

But now he had done it. Le Blanc threw his gun down, and he could see the wet spots on his mask. He was crying. Did.....he make him cry? Did he really bother him that much? Reality punched him in the face and made him drop his anger, though he held onto what he could. His tone was less accusatory. "Look, just.....don't this against me. I didn't mean for it to come out this way. I would've told you myself when the time was right. Surely you understand that."

[x] @xceruleanrosesx

And there it was, the look he hated so much. Scornful, disgust, disdain, rejection, and hatred. He had seen this face before. A cruel night in Germany, lit by the anger of hundreds of torches, the night sky pierced with raised pitchforks and shovels. The accusations flew out of their mouths with such confidence and disapproval that his father was fighting back against the entire population of the townsfolk at their doorstep. No matter what he said, they wouldn't listen. And neither would Le Blanc.

Warring through his own emotions and struggling to pick which would be the most appropriate, the most prominent was hurt and sorrowful. He should've never come here. His parents warned him about working among humans, and the risk he took was well-known in his mind. And yet, he still took that leap of faith. For a while, it was fine. Nobody suspected anything. Every time someone asked about his ears or his teeth, he recommended the "surgeon" he went to. He blamed his strange clothes on his taste in vintage, but they were his from 100 years ago. Everything was genuine and real, including his sentiments. How could he get him to see that?

"Please," he attempted again, taking the tiniest step forward. "I-I know you're confused, and you have many questions, but I can answer them for you. You've got to trust me on this. I can't explain myself if you won't listen. So please, put the gun down."

Fighting back in the diplomatic sense might've been in the safest route but also the most difficult. Breaking through to a closed mind was nigh impossible. Le Blanc didn't seem like he was willing to hear him out, even if he poured every ounce of truth from his red-painted lips.

[lokidokieokie]

His Protector

Summary: Odin had always been a shitty father to Loki; always blaming him for the slightest mishap, constantly comparing him to Thor. It was a relentless relationship (if it could actually be called that). One day when Odin goes too far, you’re there to stand up for Loki and protect him from his so-called father. 

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Goddess!Reader

Warning(s): mentions of parental abuse, torture(?), Odin being a shitty father, language, wounds, reader being a bad bitch (think I got everything...as usual, lemme know if I didn’t) 

Every night was pretty much the same. You woke up, donned your Asgardian garbs and began your journey throughout the palace. 

You had always had a connection to the night; ever since you were a small babe. The way that the moon illuminated the sky had always brought a sense of peace over the normally bustling villages of Asgard--a feeling that few were ever lucky to experience. 

Those few being you and the God of Mischief himself. 

You and the younger Prince had been friends since the cradle, and have been pretty much inseparable ever since. However, at some point, your relationship--at least on your side--had moved from one of mere friendship to love. 

You have no recollection of when your feelings changed; it had just suddenly shifted. In hindsight, though, this realisation shouldn’t have surprised you; it was probably decreed by the Norns themselves. 

They would do that to you--bestow the gift of unrequited love upon you. They had never been in your favour; the fates were never on your side. But if you were bound to love someone endlessly; at least it was your best friend. You could pretend that everything was fine...right?

You would have to put up your façade for tonight at least. Tonight, Loki was meant to meet you in the Gardens. You both were planning to have a discussion on Midgardian playwrights, and figure out which Bard truly was the greatest. 

But as you finally entered through the arch of wildflowers and vines, he wasn’t there. You sighed, maybe he had finally succumbed to the sleep that his body required.

Knowing that you would get bored sitting in the Gardens alone, you decided that it would be best to check up on him--purely to ensure that he was alright; not by any means to hear his soft snores as he peacefully slept. 

Walking through the palace during the middle of the night was always a sight to behold. The way that the speckles of lights in the night sky reflected off of the shiny, golden walls made you feel as if you were walking straight through a fantasy novel. 

However, what you saw beyond that beautiful picture was truly terrifying. 

The throne room that usually held Odin, sitting on his throne, addressing the people of Asgard now echoed the anguished cries of the mischievous prince. Tears welled in your eyes as you came to the realisation that the Allfather was beating Loki. 

A sense of anger washed over your being, and you began storming towards the doors. As you pushed the doors open, your steps ceased. Kneeling on the floor was your best friend, covered in his own blood. 

“What in the Norns is going on here?” 

Both sets of heads turned to face you, a flash of gratitude and fear appeared in Loki’s eyes. 

Odin cleared his throat, “Lady Y/n, your presence isn’t needed here.” 

You were about to speak up when he conjured a vile of liquid and proceeded to pour it straight into Loki’s new wounds; causing Loki to scream out in pain. 

“Are you kidding me? My presence isn’t needed? You are blatantly torturing your own son in the middle of the palace!” 

How could a parent do this to their own son? 

“This does not concern you, Lady. Leave. It is an order from your King.” Odin demanded. 

In an attempt to get you to leave, the Allfather once again poured the vile into Loki’s wounds; his hoarse voice once again screaming out in agony. 

That was the final straw. You were not going to stand here and watch the love of your life get tortured by his own father. You felt your eyes change from their friendly e/c to a colour as dark as a stormy night. 

“You will not do that again. Ever.” Your voice was dead calm; causing the hairs on both the Royal’s necks to stand on end.

The King’s eyes glared at you, “You dare speak to your King that way? I could have you executed for disobeying my direct order!”

You cackled, “I’d like to see you try, your majesty. Not even you can stop the Goddess of the Night when she’s angered.” Every single word was dripping with venom. 

Odin growled, “Do not test me, night child. I’ll have you executed by dawn.” 

He made his way towards you, finally leaving your poor Loki alone. You stood your ground. You refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing that his words had any sort of effect on you. 

The only thing that truly matter was the poor soul--the love of your life--writhing on the floor of the throne room.

“You don’t want me to test you, King Odin. I think we’re way past that.” You growled as you slowly began to bring your seiðr to the surface. Black wisps of magic began to form in your palms, slowly circling the centre of your hand. 

“I think, Allfather, that it is you who shouldn’t test me...or have you forgotten what I am also the Goddess of?” 

The Allfather gulped. For a moment, he had forgotten what other title he had bestowed upon you. The Goddess of Pain flashed through his mind. You could inflict pain onto whomever you desired; you truly were not to be messed with. 

“I’m glad that I finally have your attention, Odin.” You spat. “Maybe now you’ll come to your senses and stop inflicting pain onto someone who never deserves it.”

You began making your way towards Loki, as he now desperately needed the attention of some of the palace’s healers. 

Odin coughed, drawing your attention to him. “That is where you are wrong, child. Loki is in the wrong this time.” 

You glared at him. “By all means Odin, please, enlighten me on what Loki has “done” this time!” He shifted his weight, clearly nervous. If you weren’t so angry, you might’ve been proud of yourself. 

“I have had several witness confirm that Loki was the one behind the destruction of the East Wing two nights ago.”

You seethed, “Did those witnesses happen to be Thor and the Warrior’s Three?” 

He nodded, seemingly proud of his facts. That face instantly dropped when he saw the anger in your eyes.

“It’s always about what Thor said, isn’t it Odin? Have you ever thought about what Loki has to say about this issue?” You left no room for him to answer.

“No, you haven’t; because you’re too far up your own royal ass that you don’t ever think to ask for Loki’s opinion! And, for your information you royal pain in the ass, Loki was with me two nights ago--just as he always is--because he cannot fathom the nightmares that plague his mind from his time under Thanos!”

You took a breath, you needed to keep your composure. The Allfather did not get to see you cry. 

“He tortured your son, you know. Forced him to try and take over Midgard in order to obtain infinity stones. And all that happened because he fell of the Rainbow Bridge because you are a terrible father!” 

You drew your attention away from Odin after hearing Loki whimper. Tears began to build in your eyes, threatening to escape. 

You pressed a sad kiss to his forehead and whispered, “I’m so sorry, my love. I’ll take you to the healers now.”

You once again turned to face Odin, who now had a look of terror on his face.  “I- I had no idea.” He said, seemingly ashamed of his actions. 

“Of course you didn’t know. All you care about is the Allmother or Thor. You never care about Loki.” You shifted your eyes back to Loki and moved a piece of hair out of Loki’s face. 

“And to plague your dreams, it was Thor and his horrible friends who destroyed the East Wing in one of their drunken stupors. Maybe next time you believe your Golden Child, you’ll ask if your son had any unbiased witnesses to back up his claim.”

Then you teleported both Loki and yourself to the healing wing, quickly calling for healers to tend to your love.

Your slumber was disturbed by something shifting underneath your head. Quickly remembering the events of last night, you bolted upwards, and the emerald eyes of the love of your life greeted you.

Your eyes brimmed with tears and you grabbed his hand, “I’m so glad you’re okay.” 

He smiled, “I am, thanks you to, Y/n. Thank you for standing up for me.” 

As his thumb wiped away the tears of your face, you took your chance.

“I would do anything for you Loki. I love you.” After the events of last night, you didn’t care if the feelings weren’t reciprocated, you just needed him to know how much he meant to you. 

The pair of cold lips attaching themselves to yours surprised you; but it felt as if you had done this a thousand times before. 

Loki placed his forehead against yours, “I love you too, Y/n. More than you’ll ever know.”

He then took your lips again. 

###BONUS###

As the two lovers basked in the beginning of something new, the entire palace was able to hear the yells of anguish and anger between the Crown Prince and the Allfather.

But the lovers heard nothing, too absorbed in each other’s embrace to care. They finally were together, and only fate could now tear them apart. 

This has been in the WIPs forever...glad it’s finally done :)

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@thewaithfuckingannoyme

[robininthelabyrinth]

Prompt: Wei Wuxian has achieved time travel! He's gonna fix so many broken things. Unfortunately, WWX has miscalculated a teensy tiny variable and instead of arriving in his original 15yo body in Lotus Pier, he's crash landed in MXY's tiny 7~8yo body at Mo Manor. But no problem, he can fix this if he can just find his real body. (Meanwhile, Yunmeng Jiang's head disciple is acting the wrong kind of childish, aka, Mo Xuanyu is having the weirdest day of his young life.)

Switcheroo - ao3

Mo Xuanyu thought that this Wei Wuxian person whose body he’d stolen must have been a really interesting person, mostly because he’d been here for three days so far and nobody’d noticed the switch yet.

Possibly it had to do with the fact that Mo Xuanyu still wasn’t exactly sure how he’d stolen the body – he’d just gone to sleep in the shed, same as always, and then he’d woken up in the softest bed he’d ever encountered in his life…no, softer than even his dreams! He’d thought it over and concluded that he must have died from cold out in the shed, turned into a fierce ghost out of resentment, grown powerful (somehow), then stolen some rich young master’s body when they weren’t paying close enough attention and, once he’d possessed the body, promptly lost all his memory of being a ghost.

It seemed like the only logical course of events.

He was very sorry about it, though. Wei Wuxian seemed like a nice, if very unusual person.

The first day, Mo Xuanyu had barely even noticed the body-switch, being quite so enamored of the soft bed he was in – he’d refused to get out of bed at all, declaring that he was going to lie in and sleep for a century or more, and the people who’d come to the door to get him didn’t beat him or anything over it, but rather just laughed or rolled their eyes and then left him to it. Luckily, at the time, he’d just assumed he was dead or something and proceeded to ignore everything in favor of napping.

He only acknowledged that he was alive later in the afternoon, when his stomach started growling – it seemed like a very unlikely thing for a dead man’s stomach to do.

Mo Xuanyu had by that point figured out that he wasn’t himself anymore, which was fine since he didn’t much like himself; he’d also figured out, through looking himself over, that he was old now. At least fifteen or sixteen, which was twice the age he last remembered himself being. That was fine, too, though: being older meant that he was stronger and faster and would be better able to handle it when people wanted to beat him or something. Most importantly, though, it meant he was old enough to enter the kitchen on his own!

Mo Xuanyu already knew that he wasn’t allowed to eat at the main table, being only the bastard son of the younger daughter, and the cook back at home was a fierce woman who didn’t allow anyone under the age of ten into her kitchen; as a result, he had to wait for his mother to bring him back some food, and it was always cold and not quite enough. Now, though, since he was older, he figured he might as well try to go to the kitchen and fill his belly that way.

Luckily, while his current body’s house was much bigger than the Mo house, all houses were generally built along the same lines, so it wasn’t hard to find the kitchen. Everyone there laughed when he showed up, even though he’d tried to be very quiet and sneak in and then screwed it up by tripping over his own feet – it seemed like everyone thought he was doing it on purpose to be funny – and then the cooks gave him a meal of his own that was hot and fresh and wonderful.

He'd wolfed it down.

“Honestly, Wei Wuxian, you eat like a hungry ghost, you’d think the Jiang clan starves you,” one of them scolded him, but with a smile, and from that Mo Xuanyu learned that the rich young master was called Wei Wuxian and that he lived with the Jiang clan. The different surnames confused him a little, but he didn’t dare ask any questions about it, so he just stuffed his mouth and pretended that was the reason he couldn’t answer.

No one questioned it.

No one questioned it when he went wandering all around instead of doing whatever chores or duties he’d been assigned, either. Someone had actually seen him hovering by a door and asked him to bring back a pheasant when he returned, so out of lack of better options he’d headed outside to try to go find one.

He had a pretty good time walking around the forest, then remembered what he’d been asked and chased the pheasants for a while, without success . Fortunately, he then got lucky and stumbled over an old snare that had three pheasants caught inside, so he’d picked up the whole box and carted it back home.

“Three,” one of the boys in purple-blue marveled as he saw Mo Xuanyu walking towards the kitchen. “You know, people say that the birds around the Lotus Pier have gotten too smart to be caught easily, but look at our da-shixiong; he makes it look easy!”

From this, Mo Xuanyu could figure out that Wei Wuxian was (apparently!) part of a cultivator clan, apparently located at a place called the Lotus Pier, and that he was the oldest or at least head disciple, to boot. He knew all about cultivator clans from his mother, since apparently his father had been a sect leader, and that meant he knew enough to call the other boy ‘shidi’ as he passed, making the other boy beam happily.

It also meant that when he chanced a guess and called the young woman in a pretty pink dress who waved at him ‘shijie’, she smiled and nodded, which meant to him that he’d done the right thing.

“I heard you slept even more of the morning away than usual,” she told him, but didn’t seem too upset about it. “I bet that means you’ll be skipping dinner and staying up all night, hmm?”

Mo Xuanyu had no intention of skipping dinner if it was anything like what the kitchens had given him earlier, actually, but while he was still trying to figure out a way to say that, she said, leaning in close to whisper, “It’s probably a good idea, anyway – Mother and Father are fighting again. Just go to the kitchens to grab something…I promise I’ll make it up to you with some soup tomorrow, pork ribs and lotus roots, your favorite. All right?”

“Shijie, you’re the best,” Mo Xuanyu said effusively, willing to die for her at once, and she laughed and tousled his hair.

“I am,” she said, looking happy. “And if my little A-Xian stays good and obedient, I may even feed him.”

She did, too, the next day when he finally tore himself out of the beautiful wonderful soft bed and went to go find her. She’d made him soup, just as he’d promised, and laughed and laughed for some reason: apparently, she interpreted him being quiet and not talking too much as his efforts to be ‘good and obedient’, which was apparently so out of the ordinary as to be a deliberate joke.

From this, Mo Xuanyu concluded that the young master he’d possessed, Wei Wuxian, was a jackass.

Well, perhaps that was a bit harsh. Arrogant and self-centered, talented and brave and probably brilliant, definitely charming and maybe even kind, but also spoiled and inclined to step on other people to get where he wanted to go, if Mo Xuanyu had to guess – why else would everyone constantly react as if him not being obnoxious was the world’s biggest stunt?

No one seemed to expect anything of him at all: he didn’t do any chores, and no one batted an eyelid; he didn’t go where he was told, and everyone just sighed…at one point the sect leader himself came and patted him on the head, scolding him in a joking tone that he hadn’t seen him leading any of the training the way he was supposed to – but when Mo Xuanyu quailed, he’d burst out laughing, telling ‘Wei Wuxian’ to stop pretending to be a scared little rabbit, that it was fine if he’d gotten distracted by some clever new invention or whatever, that someone else would handle it, that he should take as long as he needed.

Mo Xuanyu had pasted a great big smile on his face through force of effort and agreed cheerfully.

The sect leader had accepted it.

Probably a jackass, but clearly a beloved one, Mo Xuanyu thought to himself as he packed up clothing and a few small treasures that no one would miss, a little wistful. The scare of the whole encounter had put things in perspective – he wasn’t going to be able to keep up this sort of façade for long. In fact, he was shocked he’d managed it so long already; surely, no matter how many pranks this Wei Wuxian played, no matter how childishly he behaved, surely someone should’ve noticed that he was actually an eight-year-old masquerading as a sixteen-year-old?

Mo Xuanyu couldn’t decide whether it was sad that no one paid too much attention or something that this Wei Wuxian fellow had brought down on his own head by being so consistently annoying.

Either way, there was nothing for it – he was going to have to leave.

Now that part was really sad: he’d never in his life had such good food, or such a soft bed, or even so many people that just seemed plain old happy to see him as since he’d arrived in this place. But he wasn’t the one all those things were for; he was just a sad ghost possessing a person, and if he stayed, the cultivators would eventually figure out something was wrong and exorcise him.

Probably violently.

Mo Xuanyu probably deserved it, too, but despite that he wasn’t willing.

So he packed up what he could and headed out.

He got all the way to the gate before a new purple-clad disciple – about his age, if he had to guess, and holding a pack like he’d just come back from a trip, with a scowl on his face – called out for Wei Wuxian.

Mo Xuanyu waved a little, hoping that that would be enough.

For the first time, it wasn’t.

The boy’s face settled into an even deeper scowl.

“Hey, what’s wrong with you?” he demanded. “Wei Wuxian! You’re acting all weird – hey! Where are you going?”

Mo Xuanyu was running away, obviously. He wasn’t about to get tied up and exorcised, no thank you.

He didn’t think he’d make it, but it was still worth trying.

Sure enough, the purple-clad boy who was probably called Jiang Cheng, based on what everyone was calling out as they ran by, got tired of running and jumped on his sword, and there was no way Mo Xuanyu would be able to outrun a sword, not even if he tried as fast as he –

Someone picked him up.

It wasn’t Jiang Cheng.

Mo Xuanyu turned his head and stared.

It must be some sort of yao, he thought. Humans were definitely not that pretty.

“Lan Wangji!” Jiang Cheng howled. “What are you even doing in the Lotus Pier?! Put my shixiong down!”

The rescuer, Lan Wangji, frowned a little at Mo Xuanyu.

Mo Xuanyu didn’t know exactly what expression he ought to be making in return, and was a bit too dazed to even dare to guess. He’d just noticed that they were flying – flying! on a sword! – and he was clutching onto this Lan Wangji’s shoulders for dear life.

“You are not Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said. His voice sounded very definitive.

“Uh,” Mo Xuanyu said. “Sorry? Please don’t drop me.”

“I will not. What is your name?”

“Mo Xuanyu,” Mo Xuanyu admitted, and Lan Wangji’s eyes widened as if that meant something to him – except it couldn’t, of course, because Mo Xuanyu was sure he’d never met anyone even remotely like this Lan Wangji fellow in his life. “I don’t remember taking his body. I’m sorry. Can you not exorcise me? I don’t want to die.”

Lan Wangji was silent for a long moment.

He was still flying very fast, and Jiang Cheng was still following, shouting out curses and demands that he stop, not that Lan Wangji was listening.

“There will be no exorcism,” he finally said, and Mo Xuanyu exhaled in relief. “We will, however, fix this.”

“…we?”

“Wei Ying and myself.”

Mo Xuanyu nodded. That sounded more likely than anyone relying on his participation.

“Where are we going?” he asked. Jiang Cheng was falling further and further behind.

“Mo Village.”

Mo Xuanyu tensed up at once.

“You will not be left there,” Lan Wangji clarified, and – how did he know that Mo Xuanyu didn’t want to be left there? “But we must collect Wei Ying, who I suspect is currently in your body.”

“In my…I’m still alive?”

Lan Wangji was quiet again, and then said, “Yes. And you will remain so.”

That was reassuring, mostly.

“Okay,” Mo Xuanyu said, and found that he mostly felt relieved. He’d be very happy to have his normal body back again, if possible, especially if he didn’t have to stay in Mo Village…“Wait, if I don’t have to stay there, where will I go? I don’t have anywhere else to go, unless my father comes back for me. He's a sect leader –”

“He will not, and even if he did, you should not go with him. Once Wei Ying returns to his body, you will be able to stay at the Lotus Pier. If you do not wish to stay there, I will bring you back to the Cloud Recesses – that is my home – instead.”

“Oh,” Mo Xuanyu said, feeling bewildered. That was an awfully nice offer, even if Lan Wangji was feeling guilty about Wei Wuxian stealing his body by accident – which seemed like what had happened here rather than Mo Xuanyu being the one who did the stealing. Maybe he should go with Lan Wangji instead, he seemed much more responsible than Wei Wuxian was, rushing over to rescue him and explain things instead of throwing him into a body and leaving him all alone in a strange place. But on the other hand… “Is the Cloud Recesses…I mean…no offense, but…does it have…”

“Yes?”

“Does it have soft beds, too? And – and hot food?”

Mo Xuanyu didn’t need much, not really. He looked eagerly at Lan Wangji, who had an odd expression on his face briefly before wiping it back to neutral and nodding in confirmation.

“Okay,” Mo Xuanyu said, and curled up in Lan Wangji’s arms. “Then I’ll stay with you. You can take care of me.”

“I will,” Lan Wangji said, sounding strangely serious. “In return for the gift you last gave me – I will.”

[sincerelystranger]

It’s a strange feeling to learn something new about a person you thought you knew everything about, and the newness leaves a strange taste in Jiang Cheng’s mouth, a faintly uncomfortable feeling in his gut.

It’s not anything major – not really anyway – and it shouldn’t bother him so much but…

But…

But the thing is…

Wei Wuxian lies.

He lies a lot.

And his lies are about stupid things – like that he’s fine when he’s obviously not, and that he’s forgotten something when he hasn’t, and…

Well, he lies.

And it’s surprising to Jiang Cheng, because he always thought that Wei Wuxian was basically incapable of lying. Incapable of just saying nice shit to smooth things over. Incapable of hiding his feelings at the expense of someone else’s pride. Incapable of just saying some stupid white lie when some idiot in charge asked him something.

Incapable.

Now, Jiang Cheng realizes that Wei Wuxian wasn’t incapable, he was just unwilling.

And maybe it’s because of this new face – younger and stranger and just a little bit familiar – or maybe it’s because Jiang Cheng is older now, and maybe just a little bit wiser, but it’s easier to read Wei Wuxian now.

Easier to see the slight downturn of his lips before he gives a fake smile. Easier to notice the strange, tired nervousness in his eyes as he checks to see if his lies have been believed.

Easier.

Easier to see, but not any easier to understand.

“So you just randomly decided to come to Lotus Pier,” he asks slowly, his eyes carefully tracking every nervous tick of Wei Wuxian’s brow.

“Yeah,” Wei Wuxian smiles, scrunching up his nose as if he’s being mischievous. “Can I stay, oh great Sect leader Jiang?”

He’s so obviously unhappy that it makes Jiang Cheng’s jaw ache.

“I promise I won’t stay long. Maybe just a week. And I’ll be quiet. You’ll barely know I’m here!”

“Shut up,” Jiang Cheng sighs, stepping to the side to let Wei Wuxian in through the gate. “Since when have you needed my permission to stay here.”

“Your kindness knows no bounds, great Sect Leader Jiang,” Wei Wuxian says, bowing obnoxiously as he slides his way past Jiang Cheng.

“It knows bounds and I’m sure you’ll test them,” Jiang Cheng replies, kicking at Wei Wuxian’s knees as he follows him inside.

Wei Wuxian hums as he walks and excitedly waves to disciples he knows.

To anyone else, he probably looks careless and happy, but Jiang Cheng knows better.

He can see the tense set of his shoulders, the forced bounce in his steps, the fake lift of his lips and the way his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

His stupid brother is miserable and it’s obvious. Achingly so.

It makes something clench tightly in Jiang Cheng’s stomach. A strange, stuffy feeling in his chest. It’s…

Irritating.

“You know where your room is,” he says, wanting to quickly part from Wei Wuxian before this irritation grows into something bigger. “Should I expect your stupid husband to be here soon?”

That Lan-er will know how to handle a sad Wei Wuxian. And, historically speaking, wherever Wei Wuxian goes, Lan-er is soon to follow. There’s no way he’d let Wei Wuxian just hang out in Lotus Pier by himself for a week.

Wei Wuxian stumbles over his own feet at the mention of the Lan-er.

“Ah, Lan Zhan?” he asks, a weak smile on his face.

Strange.

“He’s not coming.”

Very strange.

Jiang Cheng feels a strange nervousness join the irritation in his stomach. If the Lan-er isn’t coming, then…

Then Jiang Cheng is going to have to…

“Well whatever, whatever,” he says hurriedly, turning away to walk towards the main hall. “Do whatever you want.”

It’s not Jiang Cheng’s problem and Jiang Cheng doesn’t care.

He doesn’t.

So what if his stupid brother is stupidly sad? What if it has something to do with his equally stupid husband? Who cares?

Not Jiang Cheng.

Yep.

Jiang Cheng does not care at all.

---

Jiang Cheng successfully spends the whole day not caring about his stupid sad brother and his stupid sad marital problems.

He eats lunch and even dinner with Wei Wuxian and pretends to fall for his stupid ‘I’m totally fine and super happy’ façade. Wei Wuxian is obviously putting in a lot of effort to appear normal. It’s basically a kindness to go along with it.

It is.

Anyway, it isn’t Jiang Cheng’s problem and Jiang Cheng doesn’t care.

So when his head disciple catches him as he’s walking back to his room after dinner and tells him that Hanguang-jun has checked in to a local inn by the piers, Jiang Cheng just waves him off.

Not his problem. He doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care.

Except…

Except it’s very rude of the Lan-er to come to Lotus Pier and not pay respects to the sect leader. Jiang Cheng should probably go and set him straight.

Yeah.

---

Lan-er looks an absolute mess as he opens the door for Jiang Cheng.

His hair is perfect, of course, and his clothes are perfect, of course, and his expression is the same placid expression he always wears, but he looks a mess.

It’s just something about his aura.

He’s obviously torn up about something.

Or maybe Jiang Cheng is projecting – whatever.

“Very rude to come all the way to Lotus Pier without paying respects to the sect leader, don’t you think?” Jiang Cheng asks as he walks into the room. “Even more disrespectful to disregard my hospitality and choose to stay in an inn instead of Lotus Pier.” He sits down at the table and considers whether or not the Lan-er would take offense if he orders some wine.

Lan-er takes a seat across from him, his expression betraying no emotion other than what might be slight annoyance. “Wei Ying wishes to be… alone.” Lan-er’s voice does something strange as he says alone and his brow twitches just bit and it does something strange to his face – it makes him look… like he might be seconds away from bursting into tears.

Fuck Lan-er’s feelings. Jiang Cheng yells for some wine.

“Did he say that? Because he hasn’t really been alone since he’s come here,” Jiang Cheng says, pouring some wine into his cup. “He spent all day with the disciples and he ate lunch and dinner with me.”

Lan-er’s face does something strange again, and he almost – almost – sighs.

“So what you really mean is Wei Wuxian told you not to follow him to Lotus Pier, right?”

Lan-er doesn’t answer but his silence is answer enough for Jiang Cheng. He downs his cup of wine.

This really isn’t his problem. 

“What the fuck did you do?” Jiang Cheng asks, and his voice comes out angrier than he means it to.

He’s not angry.

Well…

He shouldn’t be angry.

Because this isn’t his problem… but…

He slams his cup down on the table. “I know that fucking idiot – I can’t think of a thing in this world you could do to make him angry with you, so whatever you did must be pretty bad,” he says. 

He can feel hot anger growing in his stomach with every word that comes out of his mouth. His idiot brother thinks that the Lan-er is the best thing since music was first created. The Lan-er could probably tell his stupid brother to cut his hands off and Wei Wuxian would probably do it happily. If Wei Wuxian is upset with the Lan-er…

Upset enough to leave…

Jiang Cheng has to let go of the cup in his hand or risk it shattering. He’s so angry his fingers shake.

“I will personally escort you out of Yunmeng unless you tell me what you did,” he threatens lowly.

Lan-er just looks down at the table and if Jiang Cheng didn’t know better – if Jiang Cheng didn’t know that this was the man who stood against the world with Wei Wuxian – then he would assume that Lan-er didn’t care.

But Jiang Cheng knows better.

The Lan-er has to care. He has to.

He came all the way to Yunmeng and checked into this small inn by the water because he… because he cares.

The Lan-er doesn’t sigh, but he breathes deeply before he opens his mouth.

“I…” he closes his mouth again, his brow furrowing just the slightest bit in frustration. He looks up, and for the first time since Jiang Cheng entered the room, he meets Jiang Cheng’s eyes. “I can’t seem to stop… grieving.”

Jiang Cheng feels the anger in his body leave him in a sudden gush. Confusion rushing in to replace it.

Jiang Cheng just stares at Lan-er.

Lan-er stares back.

Grieving.

Grieving?

What does Lan-er have to grieve?

Jiang Cheng refills his cup with wine and breaks eye contact with the Lan-er. He drinks his wine slowly and breathes. He needs to handle this… carefully. The Lan-er is obviously going through something.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he asks finally.

Lan-er looks back down to the table and something about his expression lets Jiang Cheng know that Lan-er totally regrets admitting anything to Jiang Cheng. He thinks Jiang Cheng is a fucking idiot. Which isn’t fair because it’s the Lan-er who isn’t making any fucking sense.

Jiang Cheng takes a breath and tries to ask the question again – even more carefully.

“What the fuck, or who the fuck are you grieving? And why is Wei Wuxian upset about it?”

Great job. Jiang Cheng is really good at this. All those years mediating shit for Jin Ling have really paid off.

Lan-er closes his eyes for a moment and breathes out slowly. He opens them and looks back up to meet Jiang Cheng’s gaze.

“I can’t seem to stop grieving Wei Ying,” he says slowly, his gaze steady, his words sure. He says it like it should make sense.

Jiang Cheng fills his cup again and looks at Lan-er in concern. “Wei Wuxian is alive,” he says earnestly, because maybe the Lan-er is going through some mental breakdown. “He’s annoying the shit out of me at Lotus Pier.”

Lan-er shakes his head just the slightest bit. “I understand Wei Ying is alive,” he says, “but… I grieved for him for so long and… and I can’t seem to stop.”

Ah.

Jiang Cheng thinks he can… understand… a little bit.

“You mean you’re scared?” he asks quietly.

Lan-er grimaces just a little, as if Jiang Cheng’s words hit a little too close to home and he nods.

“Wei Ying says it makes him feel lonely. He says that perhaps I’m more in love with his memory than…”

This is so not Jiang Cheng’s problem and way above Jiang Cheng’s pay grade. He doesn’t… Jin Ling’s problems never prepared him for this.

He drinks his cup of wine slowly, to buy some time and to gather some liquid courage.

“Well,” he starts, waving his cup towards Lan-er like it might offer up some answers, “You know, he’s an idiot.”

Lan-er’s expression shutters close. “Wei Ying is not an idiot,” he says tersely.

“He is,” Jiang Cheng replies firmly. “He’s an idiot for sure. And that idiot is at Lotus Pier right now, miserable as hell, because he thinks he might be the reason you might be even a little bit unhappy.”

Lan-er looks up at Jiang Cheng again.

“That idiot is stupidly in love with you. You know that, right?” Jiang Cheng asks. “Knowing him, he’s probably preparing himself to leave you so you can find some greater happiness or something.”

Lan-er’s brows furrow together. “There is no greater happiness than Wei Ying,” he says seriously, as if that isn’t the grossest thing Jiang Cheng has ever heard.

“Don’t tell me that,” Jiang Cheng says with a roll of his eyes, “Go tell Wei Wuxian that!”

“Wei Ying said he wants to be alone,” Lan-er says dejectedly.

Jiang Cheng sighs and refills his cup. He’s well on his way to tipsy now and his tolerance for stupidity is going down with every sip of wine.

“You know he lies, right?” Jiang Cheng asks, “He lies like… all the fucking time.”

Lan-er just stares at him as if Jiang Cheng is speaking in another language.

It’s almost funny.

“He says he’s okay when he’s obviously not, he smiles when he doesn’t feel like smiling,” Jiang Cheng says as examples, “Oh! And you probably didn’t even know he noticed you were grieving until he just blew up about it, right?”

Lan-er nods slowly.

“You get it now? Your stupid husband lies.”

“My husband is not stupid,” Lan-er says.

Jiang Cheng waves it off with his cup of wine, “Yeah, yeah, whatever. What I mean is that Wei Wuxian lied about wanting to be alone. He doesn’t want to be alone – trust me.”

Lan-er just stares at Jiang Cheng, and Jiang Cheng might just be imagining it but it looks like there’s some sort of hopeful light in Lan-er’s eyes – like he might be desperately wanting to believe Jiang Cheng.

He should believe Jiang Cheng. Jiang Cheng is right.

“But I can’t stop grieving,” Lan-er says softly, the hopeful light in his eyes dying.

“Of course you can’t stop grieving,” Jiang Cheng says, and he’s almost done with his bottle of wine at this point. This conversation needs to be over before his wine is done.

Lan-er looks at Jiang Cheng in question. Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. Wei Wuxian and his husband owe Jiang Cheng so much for this. So. Much

“You love him,” Jiang Cheng says slowly, “You probably love him more than you did twenty years ago. More than you did last year, right?”

Lan-er nods.

“So of course you can’t stop grieving,” Jiang Cheng says, “You’ve already experienced what it’s like to lose him. You can’t stop grieving because your heart is just trying to prepare itself for the worst possible outcome.”

Lan-er lifts a hand to hold over his heart. He doesn’t say anything but he doesn’t look quite convinced.

“Look, your grieving is probably keeping mementos and writing shit down about Wei Wuxian and just trying your best to remember him, right? Trying your best to keep as much of him as you can?”

Lan-er nods slowly, as if he’s a little bit suspicious of how Jiang Cheng might know this. “Did Wei Ying…?”

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes again. He’s all out of wine and patience. “No,” he says, “that idiot hasn’t said a word to me about your little problem.” He stands then and walks over to the corner where a small satchel is – all the Lan-er brought with him to Yunmeng. “You can’t stop grieving him because you’re so stupidly in love with him that the thought of losing him scares you to fucking death.”

He picks up the satchel and throws it to Lan-er who, annoyingly enough, catches it easily. “Spare my idiot brother a night of misery. Come to Lotus Pier.”

Jiang Cheng walks out the inn, not even bothering to look back to see if the Lan-er will follow. He’s done all he can. If the idiot in white still chooses to stay at the inn, well… Jiang Cheng will chase him out of Yunmeng tomorrow.

---

Lan-er catches up to him about midway to Lotus Pier. He’s quiet and Jiang Cheng feels perfectly content to keep the silence. He feels warm and light from the wine and the night is cool and clear. He feels…

“How did you know the reason for my grieving?” Lan-er says suddenly. It’s unlike him to break the silence first. He must really want to know.

Jiang Cheng has half a mind not to tell him. He sort of wants to keep this to himself. But maybe it’s the wine or the clear night or just his general good mood but…

“I grieve Jin Ling,” he admits lightly. “He was the only family I had after I lost everyone. He was just a little baby; you know? But I was constantly terrified of losing him. Even now, I still have the clothes he used to wear when he was a toddler. I have the first bow I gave him. The first shoes he wore when he could first walk. I remember, I used to just stare at him because I was afraid I might forget what he looked like.”

He doesn’t look at Lan-er as he admits this. And it’s strange to admit this to Lan-er of all people. But… Lan-er can keep a secret – Jiang Cheng knows this. Maybe that’s why he feels safe to admit it.

“Luckily, Jin Ling isn’t a fucking idiot like my brother,” he says, “Jin Ling just thinks I’m a sentimental uncle.”

Lan-er doesn’t say anything in response, but Jiang Cheng finds he doesn’t care.

It’s a strange feeling to learn something new about someone he thought he knew all about, even stranger to learn that someone he thought infallible shares the same fears as him.

It’s… strange.

But under the cool clear skies of Yunmeng, he feels strangely close to Lan-er.

Strange.

[pencilofawesomeness]

Fandom ask: 003 - Mirajane from Fairy Tail

Alriiiiight, license to ramble about Fairy Tail let's goooo

How I feel about this character: Mirajane is (or at least had the makings to be) one of the more complex characters in the series and I respect her for it. We meet her shaped by grief, and she (and the Strauss family in general) serve as a one of few examples of the actual real dangers of mage work and their world and Mirajane especially serves as a tangible reminder of that. She could be powerful, but her heart isn’t in it anymore. She does the exact opposite of what most anime protags (like Elfman) do in the face of loss, because instead of ~getting stronger~ she just shuts down, and that’s a very real response. But she’s not driven into a locked-in-her-room state, but rather, a type of repression that’s more functional—more façade. It’s interesting and I remember being so hyped to see her snap and go bat-shit on Freed in the Battle for Fairy Tail arc, because she needed that breaking point, but also that was just a step in her figuring out what to do with herself. In fact, it’s never a clear answer, and I think that’s fine. She never goes back to being “herself”—not completely. She’s changed irrevocably, and she keeps changing, but in subtle ways. And she keeps pretending her way through life, and I find that fascinating, in a way. 

Any/all the people I ship romantically with this character: Uhhhh right them shipping questions. I don’t actively ship her with anyone, really. Maybe Erzajane if I had to pick one? 

My favorite non-romantic relationship for this character: Okay okay but actually the rivalry/not-rivalry dynamic is really interesting here. We see in some backstory that they fought a lot as kids, both because they were both powerful slightly-older kids on the block, but Mirajane was going through her wild phase and Erza was the one who took it upon herself to keep everybody in line. They both wanted freedom, but they sought it in ways that clashed with each other. Then, Mirajane backed off, and Erza calmed down, and they are sort of on the same page but also...not? Erza is all about doing what’s right, and Mirajane will do whatever necessary to make sure her people are safe, even if the means to do that are not...ideal. That, or Mira’s just an enabler sometimes. I don’t know. Honestly that backstory dynamic was the more interesting part, because the few times those two interact later, there’s normally a really distracting crisis or something.

My unpopular opinion about this character: Her magic is whack. Like, it’s interesting, don’t get me wrong, but it’s disturbing. She steals souls?? And uses them for power?? Lisanna’s is one thing, because it’s animals, but demons are thinking, sentient beings as we see. Zoldeo was an absolute creep and got treated as one, but Mirajane low-key does the same thing and it’s okay??? It’s not really clear whether she kills their spirit or if their spirit is just trapped in the background somewhere (like what is implied with Seilah) but that’s not great? Did they give consent to that? (Like with Dimaria, it’s implied that Chronos consented to that arrangement, but Mira—especially baby Mira—trash-talked demons a lot so I dunno man.) Is she technically? Enslaving them? It’s um.... It’s whack. I’ll leave it at that.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: Man there’s a lot of things. Addressing the moral dilemmas of take-over magic would have been nice, but also, I reallllly wanted Mirajane to have a moment when she realized that she didn’t need to pretend to be put together, specifically with Lisanna. Just an ugly crying, oldest-sibling breakdown. Because she faked her confidence and she faked her nonchalance and she tries to be everything for her siblings and it would have been nice if that got reversed. And not necessarily in the “I’ll protect you in battle” sort of way (though that would be poignant) but also in a “let me make you dinner and you sit down” sort of way. Or something like that. I don’t have anything specific in mind, to be honest.

Favorite friendship for this character: See that’s the neat part about her repression: she has no friends and— So it would have been neat if we got to see Natsu and Mira interacting literally somehow post Lisanna’s death. Like if she did that subconscious thing where she scooped up Natsu and projected Lisanna on him because they were friends and also somewhat similar, but his unique brand of rambunctious honesty would have been really good to make her not shell in on herself as much and actually address some things, and she could have made him slow down enough to properly address his own grief, and I dunno, I think it would be cool. Plus, she’s the calmer sort, and Natsu does have that capability but he normally matches or exceeds the energy in the room, but he and Mirajane could chill a bit. Perhaps. 

My crossover ship brotp: Mirajane and Nightwing. They’re both totally innocent golden child older siblings with simmering rage beneath the surface that is 100% dedicated to tearing apart anyone who hurts their little siblings, but they hold it down pretty well and they get away with it. I just think it would be neat for them to swap stories of the chaos they witnessed or enabled over some cups of tea. I could probably come up with other pairs too but I hadn’t thought about it before and this was the best I could do on the spot.

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Fandom Ask Game

[merakiaes]

In The Heat Of The Moment - Aaron Hotchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Requested: By @forgottenword​

Prompts: #3 from the common trope-list. 

Warnings/notes: Unprotected sex. Wrap it before you tap it, kids. I’m extremely bad at writing smut so I apologize in advance for the shitty quality😩 I want to stress that my smut requests are CLOSED, this was an only exception because I liked the concept, so please don’t send in smut requests because hey will be deleted. This turned out a lot longer than I planned but oh well. Please leave a comment and let me know what you think. Thank you <3 NOT PROOFREAD

Wordcount: 7175

Summary: When having a fever and being caught in the rain, you’re bound to be freezing and in need of heat. And what better way to get warmed up than by sharing a bed with your boss? 

You and Aaron Hotchner had never gotten along as well as co-workers should in your line of work. You were great agents, great people, when you were separated. But when you were together… Well, let’s just say that it was never a pretty sight.

You had joined the BAU around the same time and despite only being beginners back then, you were both great at what you did. But putting you together on your first job was everything but a match made in heaven.

You were a bit younger than him and you were used to being criticized by men your entire life, so when working with Hotch turned out to be no different, you became competitive and determined to show your worth to him and your fellow agents.

You could easily just shoot your enemy if you ever felt threatened in the field, but when it came to Hotch, your co-worker, your only line of defense was your quick-witted sarcasm.

In Hotch’s eyes, you behaved like a child from the start and he wanted nothing more than to just have you transferred, but the longer you worked together, the more used to it he got.

He still didn’t like it though, not one bit, but it was bearable back when you’d had Gideon to step in and calmly settle your differences whenever those popped up. Which, let’s be honest, was often.

But now he was gone and Hotch had stepped up to take the leading position, and even though you hadn’t been interested in that position, yourself, you hated that he now had the higher ground and the perfect shot to make your life a living hell just like you had, knowingly, made his.

If you wanted to go to the crime scene, he sent you to question potential witnesses. If you wanted to question potential witnesses, he sent you to the crime scene. If you specifically asked to do something, he made you do the exact opposite and if you specifically asked not to do something, that’s exactly what he forced you to do. And now that he was your superior rather than your equal, you were in no place to argue, no matter how much you wanted to.

You wouldn’t go as far as to say you hated each other; you respected him and he respected you, but you just couldn’t stand each other and the way the two of you always seemed to criticize the other’s capability of getting the job done.

He always underestimated you and condescendingly shook his head at your every move, and you just couldn’t help but run your mouth about how he did everything wrong when you were with him.

It could be amusing to see you bicker, to say the least, but eventually, the team was starting to get tired of the way your disagreements and inability to work together was constantly threatening to ruin the case, so they were more than relieved when, finally, the two of you were beginning to settle down.

When Haley filed for a divorce, you were the only one on the team who didn’t change your entire persona. While the others walked on eggshells around him, always afraid to say the wrong thing and make him snap, you remained your usual big-mouthed, snarky self, never letting him catch a break.

Up until then, you had never been anything other than a major pain in his ass, but under these circumstances, the fact that you didn’t go out of your way to feel sorry for him provided a kind of security for him.

You approached him about it once after a case on which he had shown himself more agitated and reckless than usual, telling him that he could talk to you if he wanted to, but after that, you just left him alone to deal with everything the way he wanted to.

Knowing he had the support but also being given the choice to choose on his own rather than having the support forced upon him was just what he needed and in your own, dysfunctional way, you grew closer because of it.

He started to willingly take you along during cases while he sent the others to deal with other aspects, as opposed to the past where the last thing he wanted was to be stuck with just you, knowing you’d find some way to go against his wishes just to spite him.

He’d always known that you were a great person and an even greater agent and profiler, even though he would never admit it out loud, but it was only after his divorce that he really came to see you in a different light.

However, despite his newfound fondness of you, there were still rules to be followed; ones he, as a leader, could not look past if broken.

One of the most important rules were that you couldn’t get attached or emotionally involved in a case. Being able to remain objective was of the utmost importance in order to not risk jeopardizing the entire investigation and this specifically, you’d never had a problem with.

You felt for the families and victims of course, but you knew that in order to do your job, you had to close yourself off to the grief they were feeling. Struggling with this was more common for the others on the team, but you did alright.

But then there was the rule that emphasized the importance of staying at home or at least in the office if you ever happened to get sick, and the most important rule, at least for you, not to lie or go against your boss’s orders. And you had broken both of them.

It had started out with a light cough and a runny nose; nothing too alarming seeing as it could easily pass for allergies, which just so happened to be the excuse you used when confronted about it.

Eventually the cough disappeared and your nose dried up, leading you to believe that the excuse you had been telling everyone for three days straight could actually be the truth, but then came the fever, out of nowhere in the middle of the night.

You laid awake trembling and sweating through your sheets both at the same time, and yet, you pulled your ass out of bed the next morning and got to work, completely ignoring the fact that you were obviously not well.

And as was only natural, the light fever got worse and brought several other complications with it as you kept pushing yourself in the field. You became short of breath easier and your ears started hurting, bringing back the terrible memories from your childhood back when you’d get the worst ear infections on a frequent basis for years.

But you’d just been invited into a new case, one that took longer than they usually did and one that you just so happened to get attached to, against your better judgement. You kept getting sicker and you tried your hardest to hide it, because you just couldn’t leave your team in those desperate times.

You were also, as you always had been, too stubborn to admit the fact that you needed help and rest, and so you sucked it up and pretended that you were fine, something that seemed to go unnoticed as the others were just as caught up in the job and determined to get to the bottom of the case as you were.

And you did, get to the bottom of it, as you always did. You solved the case, identified and tracked down the unsub and went in for the arrest.

Hotch and Prentiss went around the back and you and Reid went in through the house while Morgan and Rossi stood by the police cars, waiting for Hotch’s orders to come in.

You and Reid were the ones to find the man first, catching him off-guard and holding him at gunpoint until Hotch and Prentiss appeared from the back and handcuffed him.

You were able to complete the arrest and save the hostage before anything could happen to her, and luckily, the state you were in hadn’t affected the case nor your ability to work.

But once everything was safe, you subconsciously let down the façade you had been putting on for the past few days and as you walked out of the house, a sudden wave of dizziness hit you and sent you falling to the ground before you had even reached the cars.

Morgan, having had his eyes on you when you walked out, was the first one to witness it and rushed to your side, alerting your fellow team members. By then, you were knocked out cold from the exhaustion and as the medics at the scene rushed up, they noted aloud that you had a very high fever and had to get to the hospital.

You were rushed there in the ambulance that had originally been for the hostage should she have needed to be treated, and as you laid unconscious, Hotch sat by your side, glaring at you despite the fact that you couldn’t even see it.

Luckily, your carelessness hadn’t come in the way of the case as you hadn’t hit rock bottom until it was all over, but in a worst case scenario it could’ve affected your ability to properly do your job which was exactly why the rules said you couldn’t work when sick.

But despite the fact that everything had worked out, you had gone against the rules by hiding your sickness and working despite it, which was the sole reason of your sudden collapse and also the reason that Hotch was now forced to drive all the way back to Quantico as the doctor hadn’t cleared you for flying with your ear infection, and it was safe to say that he was not happy about it.

“You put the entire team in danger today.” He spoke for the first time since you had sat down in the car, in which you had been seated for the past forty minutes.

Forty, painfully slow minutes of thick and tense silence, both of you just waiting in dread for the argument that was sure to come.

But even then, now that the silence had been broken, you didn’t feel any better.

“I know.” You replied simply from where you sat beside him in the passenger seat.

You stared out the window lazily, slumped in your seat and breathing slowly, each breath fogging up the glass and dimming the view of the darkening sky outside.

Your ears picked up on the sound of crunching leather, no doubt being caused by Hotch’s grip tightening on the steering wheel. “Is that all you have to say?” He asked bitterly. Annoyance was radiating off of him and the tone in his voice only made its existence more evident.

An unintentional sigh of exhaustion left your lips and for the first time, you dared to turn your head to look at him. “What do you want me to do?” You asked. “I made a mistake and I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it.” He wasted no time in answering, not even bothering to look at you, and this time you could see with your own eyes how his grip on the wheel hardened, his knuckles turning white.

You turned your attention back to the window and let out another long breath through your nose, but Hotch was nowhere near finished.

“What if your fever had caused you to black out in the middle of the arrest? You could’ve been ambushed from behind, too weak to fight back, and died. Reid would’ve been on his own, without backup, and could’ve died.”

Once again you turned your head to look at him, your face wiped free of emotion as you stared into his side profile.

“It’s of the utmost importance that we’re always on top of our game. We can not afford to take chances like these. You can’t-“ He sighed, sparing you the briefest of glances. “You can’t lie to me, to us, about the state of your health. By doing so, not only are you endangering yourself, but you’re endangering us all. The team, and the hostages. I won’t be able to look past this, my hands will be tied of it comes down to an evaluation.”

He wanted you to feel guilty and you understood, because you knew that you had been stupid and reckless and that you had behaved inappropriately and done what you just couldn’t do in this line of work. But no matter how deep and thick the guilt settled in the pit of your stomach, you knew his threats of ‘not being able to look past it’ were empty.

After all, he had done the exact same thing on more than one occasion since the divorce; gotten so indulged in the case at hand that he had recklessly and inappropriately broken protocol, because of which he had taken a lot of heat lately.

But still, the string you were still holding on to, the string of getting to keep your job, was short and weak, and the only thing keeping you quiet, something Hotch was taking full advantage of.

He kept scolding you for at least five more minutes, but you weren’t listening to any of it, too distracted by the painful pressure in your ears and completely out of it, barely even able to hang on to reality in your disoriented and feverish state.

The heat in the car was cranked up to the max, and yet you were shivering in your seat, shrinking back into your thin sweater as far as you could in a desperate attempt to preserve your bodily heat.

But no matter how hot your skin was to the touch, you were freezing, and it wasn’t until the weather outside took a complete three-sixty turn, forcing Hotch to put his disapproving scolding on hold in order to concentrate on not driving you into a ditch in the blinding rain, that he took the time to take note of your state.

In any other case you would’ve been all too aware of his eyes on you, but right now, you could barely even stay awake.

The pain in your ears was for the most part gone for the moment, but the fever only seemed to have gotten worse, and it showed in more ways than one. And it was in the way you had barely said a word to him, which was a near never-occurring thing, that Hotch realized that you really weren’t well.

An unsure silence fell as a blanket over the car for a moment as his eyes kept flickering back and forth between the road and you, where you were barely able to keep your own eyes open.

“Are you alright?” He finally questioned and he waited for a long moment for you to answer, and when he got none, he cautiously moved his hand out to touch your knee. “(Y/N).”

Your eyes shot open and your head whipped around to face him at the sound of your name and the feeling of his hand on your leg. “Hm?” You asked in an absent manner, instantly regretting your hasty movements when your head started throbbing.

“Are you alright?” He repeated, eyebrows creasing in worry when you raised your hand to your forehead and closed your eyes.

You took a steady breath, trying to calm your spinning head, before carefully shaking it. “No.”

“Are you ears hurting?”

“My head.” You took another breath, squeezing your eyes shut at the painful jabbing at the side of your head, feeling them sting like they would when you’d spent hours upon hours crying.

Hotch watched from the side as you rubbed your forehead and temples, taking note of how hard you were squeezing your eyes shut and how badly you were shivering. Slowly but surely, he felt the anger he had previously been feeling melting off.

He said nothing else, giving your sullen face a last glance before turning his attention back to the road in front of him. But his hand didn’t move, remaining at your knee where his thumb rubbed soft, absentminded circles as an attempt to offer you some comfort.

For a second it made your heart flutter like never before, but soon enough, you’d forgotten all about it, only being able to focus on how incredibly shitty you were feeling. Not only physically, but mentally too, because Hotch had been right about everything he had said.

You were sweating like crazy, feeling trapped in the car where you couldn’t escape your thoughts and the guilt that was getting bigger by the minute, and you wanted nothing more than to get out and breathe some fresh air.

So when Hotch stopped at a gas station to fill up the tank and get some water and painkillers for your head, you did just that, not even being able to process the fact that the rain was still pouring down until it was too late.

You stood with your back leaned against the car, hugging yourself tightly and shivering even more than before as your clothes were now soaked, but the crisp air felt nice and was a blessing for your aching head.

Hotch came out of the gas station three minutes later and spotted you immediately, wasting no time in breaking into a run in your direction.

“What are you doing?! You’re already sick!” He yelled over the sound of rain harshly colliding into the exterior of the car.

You didn’t have the energy to fight back, simply continuing to rub your forehead. “I’m sorry, it was so stuffed in there, I needed to get out.” You mumbled silently, and he sighed, walking around you to open your car door.

“Get back in the car.” He ordered, and you did as told, allowing him to help you inside and waiting for him to close the door behind you before leaning against it.

He quickly got in in the driver’s seat and wasted no time in starting the car and cranking the heat up the little way further that was possible, throwing the bottle of water and packet of painkillers into the backseat.

“You’re shaking, we need to get you dry and warm.” He said as he fuzzed over you, silently urging you to take off your outer layer and helping you do so.

He drove out of the gas station once you were properly situated again, holding your hands in his in an attempt to warm them up.

You drove for a while longer and soon enough, Hotch took a right and parked the car. But you were half asleep and completely out of it, barely even able to process that he’d left you until the door you were leaning against opened, causing you to fall right into his chest and forcing you awake.

“Here, take this.” He wasted no time in draping you in a thick, scratchy blanket that you’d never seen before.

Nevertheless, you didn’t protest, getting out of the car and staying glued to his side as he walked you in the direction of the hotel you were now apparently parked in front of.

Once you reached the door to the room you guessed he’d fixed you for the night, he unlocked the door, ushered you inside and locked the door behind you.

Out of pure instinct, your hand moved to the light switch right next to the front door, only to discover that the power was out.

You were still dizzy, your skin burning hot but freezing to your core, but you were awake now, and all you wanted was a hot shower, so your second instinct was to head into the bathroom to test the water, and just your luck, the hot water was gone, as well.

Shivering, you turned back to face the entirety of the room, the only light in sight being the light of the moon streaming in through the windows and Hotch’s phone as he used it to find his way around.

“There’s no hot water.” You deadpanned, hugging yourself close and standing still in the middle of the room.

“The power is out and there’s a flood down the road, the woman at the counter said it could take a while for it to return so we’ll have to make do with what we’ve got in the meanwhile and get you out of your wet clothes.” Hotch wasted no time in replying as he busied himself with un-making one of the two beds.

He didn’t even spare you as much as a glance but you watched him for a moment longer, taking in his hurried movements as he ripped the blankets of the bed you presumed would be his, instead placing them on the bed with your name on it.

You knew he could feel your eyes on him, but when he didn’t turn around, you let out a breath through your nose and uncrossed your arms from over your chest, instead beginning to undress yourself.

And let me tell you, that’s not an easy task when you’re shivering like a chihuahua and have an a hundred and three degree fever and the current strength of an infant.

Your arms were heavy, almost too heavy to lift, and your fingers trembled when you began working on the buttons of your shirt. You tried your hardest to see what you were doing but the lack of light in the room made it hard, and the more you strained your eyes, the more intense your headache and dizziness got.

By now, Hotch had finished setting up your bed and turned around to see you struggling, taking a few small steps in your direction.

“Do you need help?” He asked, and you dropped your hands to your sides.

“Yeah.”

He walked up to you and wasted no time in getting to work on your buttons. You watched his face the entire time, even in your feverish daze being able to pick up on how hard he was trying to focus his eyes on his fingers in a respectful manner.

Once the last button came undone, you turned around and allowed him to pull the article of clothing off your body, the snug fabric releasing a creaking sound as it was pulled off your wet skin.

Hotch wordlessly walked over to the desk placed in the room and hung the shirt over the back of a chair, while you went to work on your pants.

Luckily, this piece of clothing only had one button and you managed to get it undone without too much trouble, sitting down on your bed and pulling them off – this part taking a bit more struggle seeing as they were stuck to your skin just like the shirt had been.

But you managed and wasted no time in crawling under the multitude of blankets that Hotch had neatly piled up on the bed, tucking yourself in as tightly as possible and pulling them up to your nose in an attempt to fill the inside of the cocoon with warm air.

It worked to an extent, your skin quickly regaining its previous heat and feeling so hot to the touch that one could’ve easily thought that you were on the verge of burning up.

But it did nothing to warm your core, and no matter how hard you tried keeping the shivers at bay by relaxing your body and keeping your breaths steady, it was to no use.

You laid there in silence for a good moment, becoming unaware of your surroundings once again, including the pair of eyes burning into the side of your face from across the room.

Hotch watched you closely while he followed his own advice and discarded his wet shirt, unbuckling his belt, hanging it on a chair and kicking off his shoes and socks.

Dressed now only in his damp slacks, he moved to grab the bottle of water and painkillers that he’d gotten from the gas station, and continued to the side of your bed, where he crouched down in front of you.

“Take this.” He instructed and you opened your eyes, pushing yourself up with all your might so that you could take the outstretched items from his hand.

You swallowed the pill with two gulps of water and fell right back into bed once he had taken the bottle back, pulling the blankets up to your nose again.

He stood back up to his full height and as a strong shiver went down your spine, the words tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

“I need more heat, this isn’t enough. You’ll have to lay with me.”

Hotch’s face pulled into one of mild surprise at the sound of your unexpected words, and he instantly started protesting. “I don’t think-“

But you interrupted, staring up at him with those angry eyes that he so often found himself at the receiving end of. “I’m freezing my ass off and you’re cold, too. I’m not about to let you sleep without blankets. It’s just until the power and hot water comes back.”

He stared back at you, face ever so stoic. “Fine.” He gave in, and only then did you soften your glare.

You closed your eyes as he began removing his pants, slowly scooting back on the bed to make room for him, and you couldn’t help but let out a breath of relief when he lifted the covers and slid in next to you.

Your skin was hot with fever but somehow, his was even hotter, burning you to the touch.

You were still freezing, but as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, you instantly found it easier to relax, your shivering toning down a great deal.

Out of pure instinct, you snuggled further into his chest and you could feel on the stiffness of his body that he was uncomfortable and unsure of how to react in the situation you’d so inconveniently found yourself in.

Opening your eyes as far as your heavy eyelids would let you, you found him to be staring up into the roof. But the second he felt your heavy gaze on him, he turned his head to the side to meet your eyes.

Heat flushed through your entire body and you had been aroused enough times to recognize the feeling.

You knew all of this had started off innocent, a person simply trying to warm up another person as an act of kindness and basic human decency, and you never would’ve had these impure thoughts about him in any other situation, but your body was reacting on its own to the feeling of his skin against yours, and so was his.

Your faces were close to each other, mere inches apart, and before you were able to stop yourself, you leaned in closer and brushed your lips against his.

He retaliated immediately, pulling back and looking down at you with an unreadable expression written all over his face.

He told himself that the fever was making you confused and disoriented, but when you moved back in for a second attempt, this time with a lot more clarity in your eyes and confidence in your movements, he didn’t pull back.

You remained still for the entirety of the kiss, your lips just pressed against each other’s with little to no extended movements. When you came apart again, your breaths were heavy but the sound of your heart beating loudly in your ears was the only thing you could hear.

You stared into each other’s eyes and your eyes momentarily fluttered shut when he brought his hand up and grazed your lower lip with his thumb.

And then his lips were on yours again, and this time you just kept going.

His hands cradled your face and you laid down flat on your back, wrapping your arms around his neck and opening your legs to allow him to move on top of you. You pulled him impossibly close, a surge of sudden energy bursting through your entire body.

He was a gentleman at heart but he didn’t bother asking you if you were sure, knowing better than anyone that you were more than capable of telling him if you weren’t. You were both adults, you knew exactly what you were doing.

You’d had your fair share of rendezvouses throughout your life, but none had left you feeling like this.

Passion, desperation, fervor, urgency, impatience, hunger, eagerness, and every single other synonym that could be used to describe the lustful attraction between two people were currently battling in your body.

But more present than any other feeling was the anger; anger directed at you, fueled by the way you had put yourself and your entire team at risk by lying about the state of your health, and anger directed at him, fueled by the way he had always underestimated you and doubted your abilities.

You were both furious in all ways possible and neither of you had any plans on stopping, his hands already making their way down your body and heading straight for the direction of the place where you needed him the most.

His hands were warm but yours were cold, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake as they traveled his arms, chest, shoulders and neck.

One of your hands stayed at his neck, tracing light touches over his throat and jaw, while the other one moved down the length of your own body to meet with his where it was hovering above the line of your underwear.

You grabbed a hold of it and pushed his palm flat against the bottom of your stomach, urging him to continue, and he didn’t waste a second, dipping his hand inside the waistband of the thin fabric that was still wet from the rain and resting uncomfortably against your skin.

Breath getting caught in your throat and heart palpitating in your chest, you pushed your head back into the pillow, your eyes falling shut at the pleasurable feeling of his fingers finding your core, your lips coming apart in the process.

Instead, his face bent down and nuzzled the crook of your neck, lips leaving slow kisses behind as he adjusted his hand.

It obviously wasn’t going as smoothly as he’d like though, the wet fabric getting caught on his skin and causing a frustrated sound to escape his throat.

“These need to go.” He mumbled into the skin of your shoulder and you eagerly nodded, completely ignoring the headache that was still going strong.

You raised your hips to allow him access, and he wasted no time in pushing the underwear off your legs, leaving you to shake them off your feet.

They got lost somewhere underneath the numerous blankets but you couldn’t care less, your hands hurrying down to the waistband of his boxers.

He drew in a breath at the feeling of your icy cold fingers, but made no move to stop you, helping you in ridding himself of the only remaining clothing he had on and then moving on to unclasp your bra, carelessly throwing it onto the floor and latching his lips back onto yours.

His hand returned to your heat and just like he had done mere seconds before, you sucked in a sharp breath as his fingers dipped in, running a line up your folds before pushing their way inside.

He hooked his finger down into your entrance to gather some of your wetness, bringing it up all the way along your slit and stopping only when he reached the sensitive bundle of nerves that was just throbbing with need.

That’s when the first moan of many to come left your lips, being muffled into the kiss and your stomach exploding with butterflies.

But just like with any other aspect of your life, you were impatient, so when he pushed a finger inside of you, you broke free of the kiss and shook your head, reaching your hand down to stop him by his wrist.

“No, you’re going too slow.” You panted, pulling his hand away and looking into his darkened eyes. “I need you, now.”

Your voice thinned into a whisper toward the end and you brought your hands back up to his face.

He remained still for a few seconds, just looking at you with his usual stoic expression and pursed lips, but the soon dipped down to meet your face again, brushing his lips against yours so lightly you could barely feel it, before pressing down with more force.

What started off as a close-mothed kiss quickly turned into an open-mouthed one, and you moved down on the mattress, raising your legs to wrap them around his waist as he positioned himself at your entrance.

He wasn’t fully erected yet, as was to be expected seeing as you had barely touched him and things had moved so quickly, but the second he was fully sheathed inside of you, that changed in an instant.

The feeling of being filled so perfectly caused your face to screw up in pleasure and he couldn’t help but let a small groan slip past his lips, really showing how long it had been since he last partook in sexual activities.

But he wasn’t the only one who had gone untouched for a long period of time. When you worked a job as stressful and time-consuming as yours, it was hard to find enough spare time to get out and meet any potential lovers, so it was safe to say that it had been just as long for you as it had for him and it didn’t take long for you to let out a moan to match his own.

He wasted no time in starting to move, encouraged to do so by the way your legs tightened around his hips to pull him in deeper.

You clung to him with all your might as he slowly but surely picked up his pace and found a good rhythm, squeezing your eyes shut and being reminded of the fever you still had when feeling the brims of your eyes sting.

Your hands moved to grasp at the back of his head and you pressed your lips against his, baiting a groan from his throat when tightening your grip on the strands of raven hair you held between your fingers.

His movements were confident and his lips moved skillfully from yours to your jaw, down to your neck before settling in the crook of your neck.

One of his hands moved from the mattress to hold on to the headboard of the bed and his toned arm flexing and unflexing right over your face was without a doubt the most attractive sight you’d ever seen.

“Hotch...” You moaned out between thrusts, and he grumbled in return.

“Aaron.” He corrected you darkly, and you drew in a gasp of air at the sound.

“Aaron-” You began repeating, but was quickly cut off by your own moan and after that, no more words were spoken.

The heavy breaths he released in the crook between your neck and shoulder only added to the already existing dampness on your skin, courtesy of the fever that you had almost forgotten was still there, and it was only now that the heat that had previously been restricted to the outer layer of your skin caught up with the rest of your body and made its way into your core.

The only sounds that could be heard was the heavy rain smattering on the metal ceiling outside your room, mixing in with the pants and low moans and groans escaping your lips, the creaking of the headboard that Hotch was holding on to for dear life, and the slapping of skin on skin.

He didn’t slow down once and not as much as a word was spoken, every emotion and feeling instead being voiced in sounds of pleasure and the occasional kiss when he brought his head up from your neck for air.

You got completely lost in the pleasure and you had no idea how long you went on for, but soon enough, you were beginning to get sore, the pleasure starting to switch into a mild discomfort.

But as if right on cue, the guttural groans muffling into your damp skin became more frequent, and before you knew it, Hotch’s entire body tensed up as he reached his climax and released inside of you.  

But you weren’t quite there yet, never having been able to orgasm just by penetration.

You didn’t know how he was able to do both at the same time, but as he rode out his high, Hotch brought his hand down from the headboard and in between your bodies at the same time, heading right for the throbbing bundle of nerves where he wasted no time in getting to work.

That was the final touch you needed for your stomach to begin to turn. The combination of the way he was hitting the perfect spot over and over again and his thumb showing no mercy was so intense that you reached your high in no time.

You pressed your face into his neck just like he was doing yours, your fingers tugging on his hair so harshly that you probably crossed the line between pleasurable and painful. But he didn’t make note on it, picking up his pace as a string of curses left your lips, blending with your moans and mixing with his name, something he was clearly liking the sound of.

And just as you toppled of the edge, bright flashes flashing on the inside of your eyelids as your entire stomach pulled into a tight knot, the lights in the ceiling of the room flashed as well, the radiator over by the window buzzing to life as the power returned.

Talk about timing.

He kept on pumping into you with sloppy, lazy thrusts as you rode out your high and as soon as he felt you relax around him again, his entire body slumped against yours in a moment of exhaustion.

You laid limp, chest rising and falling in quick pants as you caught your breath. His hand moved up to hold himself upright by the head of the bed and your hands remained at the back of his neck, fingers gently pulling through his hair that was now damp with sweat.

After a moment of silence, he moved off of you, allowing you to properly breathe.

“How’s your head?” He asked.

His voice was strained and it was clear that now that the arousal was gone and everything was over and done with, neither of you had any idea of how to act.

Pulling one of the blankets up to your shoulders and holding it in place over you previously exposed chest, you cleared your throat.

“All good.” You replied breathlessly and just then, reality came crashing back down, an involuntary shiver going down your spine and rocking your entire body as it became aware of the chilliness of the air around you.  

He caught on to this at once and turned his head to look at you with a deadpanned expression. “You’re still shivering, you should go take a warm shower before you go to sleep.”

His words brought a small snort from your lips. “I’m not shivering, I’m trembling. There’s a difference.” You answered, raising an eyebrow. “But I won’t say no to a shower.” You sighed, and as you wasted no time in beginning to get out of the bed, Hotch averted his eyes to the roof to give you some privacy.

The cold air hit you like a train when you removed the blankets from your body, your shivers becoming worse now with the layer of drying sweat on your skin.

It wasn’t until you stood up that the fever came crashing down on you with full force again, a spell of hot dizziness taking over you. You had to hold on to the wall beside the bed to regain your composure and once you did, you began walking, only then realizing how sore you really were.

As quickly as your quivering legs would take you, you walked into the bathroom and flicked on the light in the ceiling before heading straight for the shower.

As you turned on the faucet this time, you were pleased to discovered that the hot water had returned along with the power, and you closed your eyes in satisfaction even when the water had yet to touch any other part of your body than your fingers.

You remained standing there for a moment, holding yourself upright by the sink while waiting for the water to reach the perfect temperature.

You then brought your hand back to yourself and turned back around as you let the water run behind you.

Hotch was still in your bed, now having moved into a sitting position and absentmindedly fiddling with the watch on his wrist, seeming to be deep in thought.

And you were a profiler. You could tell with no struggle at all what was bothering him; guilt, most likely directed toward Haley as he had just been with another woman for the first time since the divorce.

The fact made you feel all kinds of feelings, and you slowly walked back to the doorway, on which you leaned as you continued watching him from a distance.

“I’m still really cold, you know.” You commented lamely, hoping that he’d take the hint on what you were trying to say.

His head slowly turned in your direction, his eyes tired and lips pulled into a straight line. His eyes wandered your still naked form for the briefest of second, but he quickly caught himself and averted them to yours.

“I thought you said you weren’t cold anymore.” He answered in a monotone voice, and you raised your eyebrows in return.

“Did I? I don’t think I did.” You played, absentmindedly tapping your fingers against the wooden doorframe.

He stared at you for a second, not seeming to care about you in the slightest anymore. But tthe way his lips then pulled into a small smile when looking at you showed you that he did, in fact, catch on to your intent.

And when he wordlessly got out of bed and started walking in your direction, leading you into the shower with a featherlight touch to the small of your back, you knew for a fact that the moment of passion you had just shared had been much more than just an act executed in the heat of the moment.

But if you thought that you were off the hook regarding your irresponsible behavior during the case just because you now happened to have your boss wrapped around your finger, you had another thing coming.

Tagged: @must-be-a-weasley-92​ @zizzlekwum​ @cozytruecrimeaddict​ @lovelynervouskingdom​ @rousethemouse​

(If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, send me a message, ask or leave a comment)

[jeysbvck]

Forever Winter

A/N: hi guys :) this is my first attempt at a Buddie fic, I just couldn't get it out of my mind! I really enjoyed writing this, and if you read it, I'd love to know what you think; just send me an ask :)

read on ao3

Warnings: signs of mental health (slightly?)

Word count: 1.4k

Summary:

I'd fall to pieces on the floor

if you weren't around

too young to know it gets better

I'll be summer sun for you forever

forever winter, if you go.

Buck and Eddie finally start communicating after Eddie's revelation.

"I'm leaving the 118."

Leaving like Abby. Leaving like Chim. Leaving like Maddie. Twice.

Buck didn't understand. Why would Eddie leave the 118? Leave his family? Had something happened that he wasn't aware of? Buck knew there had been some distance lately, but he thought it was what Eddie wanted. He didn't think it would mean that Eddie would shut him out completely. Buck hated being on the outside, not knowing what was going on with Eddie. Hated it.

He hadn't moved from his bed since he got back from the party, which was five hours ago. After Eddie's news, there didn't seem like anything to celebrate, not for Buck at least. He was thankful Taylor had decided to go home, he couldn't face her being here while he was processing. He stared up at the ceiling, memories flashing before Bucks eyes, like a film reel on a cinema screen. He thought about the nights they spent together, having dinner and playing video games; the times watching movies with Christopher, only to have him fall asleep in the middle of them both. Every time he took Christopher to the zoo, and spoiled him with stuffed animal toys and too much sugar. He thought about working at the firehouse with Eddie, how easy it was with him by Bucks side; how they didn't need words to know what the other was thinking. Buck tried to think of the 118 before Eddie, but the memories were faded and blurry. Eddie and Christopher had changed Buck so much, helped him grow as a person, and maybe it was selfish, but Buck didn't want to lose that. He was terrified to lose the person he'd become. He was terrified to lose the two people who made him this way.

The more Buck pulled at each thread, connected them to the little pieces he had, he felt closer to solving the puzzle of what was going on in Eddies mind. Like it was a bomb in his head that Buck needed to disarm. He'd noticed Eddie putting a little more distance between them each time. He'd stopped sitting next to him at dinner, he'd stand further away when they were talking. Eddies smile was usually so bright and something that came naturally, but it was now forced and didn't reach his eyes. His laugh, that was like music to Bucks ears, hadn't been heard for a while. Eddie had done a really good job of repressing his feelings, of pretending that everything was okay, but of course it wasn't. Between losing Shannon, Chris (and Buck) being in the tsunami, the shooting and the kidnapping, it was no wonder it was taking a toll on Eddie. How hadn't Buck seen it sooner? He felt like such an idiot, he had been too caught up in his own façade to see his best friend falling apart in front of him.

Buck had picked up his phone and hit 'call' before his brain caught up. The phone rang for what felt like an eternity, but just as Buck was about to give up, Eddie answered.

"Buck? Are you okay?"

Buck rolled his eyes affectionately. Of course, Eddie was more concerned about everyone else's feelings. Not everyone's. Just Bucks.

"I'm fine," Buck replied, "I was, uh, just checking on you." 

"It's three am, Buck." 

"I know, but we need to talk." 

"And it couldn't wait till morning?" Eddie asked.

Buck answered with a question of his own. "Did I wake you up?"

"No," Eddie replied, after a long pause.

"Come on, Eddie, you need to talk to me. I know you haven't been feeling great since-"

"Buck, I'm fine." Eddie insisted. He knew what Buck was going to say, and honestly, he didn't want to hear it. Not right now, at least. He didn't want to hear about how he was making a mistake, how he couldn't leave his family. He didn't want to deal with what he was, or wasn't, feeling.

"Eddie," Buck pleaded into the phone, and Eddie squeezed his eyes shut as his chest tightened. Buck had many ways he said Eddie's name, and each of them made his heart flutter. Some in good ways, some in not so good ways; this was one of the latter. "Is this really the best decision? Talk to me; we can get through this."

Eddie didn't know why he was saying this now, after months of bottling it up. After months of pushing the one person he wanted by his side away. Maybe it was because Buck wasn't staring into his soul with those big stupid eyes, looking like an abandoned Labrador. Eddie had failed to realise that even over the phone, Buck had a way of making Eddie come apart; ten minutes on the phone with him and he'd already been more truthful than he had been in months.

Eddie sighed. He knew Buck wouldn't fully understand. He knew it wasn't the Christopher element that Buck didn't understand. Eddie had no doubts Buck loved Christopher, that he would lay down his life to protect his kid; that's why he changed his will. It was that Buck wouldn't understand why Eddie had to leave the 118. But how could Buck understand, if Eddie had never told him? Hell, how could Eddie tell him when he wasn't being truthful to himself, let alone to anybody else.

"Buck, I don't know what to say." Eddie began. "I don't think this is just some phase I'm in like the fighting was. This decision was made with Christopher in mind; I just want him to be happy."

Buck heard the pause, heard the hesitation in Eddie's silence, and held his breath, scared that any noise he made would deter Eddie from opening up. 

"But maybe I need it too."

Buck inhaled through his nose, trying to ignore the huge ache in his chest. He didn't know how to make this better for Eddie, especially over the phone. If he was there with Eddie, he might have had a better shot of disarming the bomb in his head. How did he tell Eddie that he would fall apart without him, without making it all about Buck? He certainly couldn't tell him that he lived his life afraid that Eddie would leave, that would absolutely make things worse. Instead, Buck said,

"I'm sorry."

"Well see, I thought I did a pretty good job of hiding it."

Eddie was taken aback. This was the last thing Eddie expected to hear from Bucks lips. "Why are you apologising?" 

"Because, Eddie," Buck breathed his name, making Eddie's heart grow two sizes, "I didn't know. I didn't know you were breaking down. I've been so focused on myself and Ta-" He stopped short of mentioning his girlfriend- "everything else, that I didn't see what was going on with you."

Eddie couldn't believe how much Buck was blaming himself for this. No, actually, he could, because Buck blamed himself for pretty much everything. Eddie shook his head and as he replied, he tried to make his voice sound lighter, as he joked,

Eddie stopped. He knew he hadn't been open as much as Buck would like, as much as Eddie wanted to be. But it was a start, a really good start, and they both knew it. Buck felt lighter; the weight of the night didn't feel so heavy on his shoulders. He knew there was a long way to go, but he was going to be there for Eddie.

A chuckle escaped Bucks lips, the first since Eddie's big news earlier that night, and Eddie could picture his smile perfectly in his mind. 

"You really think so? Because I don't want to burst your bubble but..."

Eddie smiled, "Alright, alright, I get it. But seriously, Buck, it's not your fault you didn't see." 

"That's my point though; I should've seen it! You're my partner, my best friend. I should have known the reason you were pulling away is because you needed help." 

"Buck, I know you have my back. I know it in my heart. I just- I don't-"

"Eddie, it's okay." Buck said, softly. "You just need to believe one thing, okay? I'll never go away."

Eddie knew, in his heart, with every fibre of his being, that no matter what Eddie needed, Buck would be there. He would fight every single person on the planet to make sure Eddie and Christopher were happy and healthy. They would deal with what was next, together. But for tonight, they both needed to rest.

"Buck?"

"Yeah, Eddie?" 

"Do you want to have breakfast with me and Christopher?" 

Buck smiled. "I'd love that."

[laequiem]

kiss you off my lips - folktober day 5

Jurdannet Folktober 2021- Day 05. She who pulls the strings @jurdannet @jurdannetrevels

Fandom: The Folk of the Air

Pairing: Jude Duarte/Cardan Greenbriar but seen through Nicasia/Cardan Greenbriar? lol

Rating: mature

Word count: 2,532

The Puppet King, my subjects call me. Allegedly, the Living Council pulls the strings, controlling me from behind the scenes. They think themselves subtle, but I hear their whispers. Their words, however, slide off my armor like rain. After all, I have heard them countless times, from other’s lips or from my own mind. I was my mother’s puppet, then Balekin, and now I am Jude’s.

read on ao3

Masterlist • She kills my self-control masterpost

The Puppet King, my subjects call me. Allegedly, the Living Council pulls the strings, controlling me from behind the scenes. They think themselves subtle, but I hear their whispers. Their words, however, slide off my armor like rain. After all, I have heard them countless times, from other’s lips or from my own mind. I was my mother’s puppet, then Balekin, and now I am Jude’s.

Most days—more than a King, more than a marionette—I feel like a courtesan. Dabbling in steamy displays with courtiers I am barely interested in, all to keep the façade of the immoral king. I pretend at power, desperate for a nod of approval from my seneschal, while she does all the work. Of course, she had never asked me to whore myself out.

Until today.

I do not know who started our tumbling. Maybe I did, my anger blinding me to the foolishness of what we were about to do, in that small room behind the dais. Forgetting that touching Jude again would remind me of everything I have tried to forget since that day she rode me in her rooms. When I kissed her, that anger melted away, replaced immediately with the desire I have been helplessly fighting against for years.

Or maybe this was Jude’s plan all along. She is more faerie than she seems, at least in the way she schemes and bargains. I will charm Nicasia and get her the info she wants. In exchange, she gave me what I want: her.

Her tart taste lingers in my mouth. I did not kneel for her this time, but licking her taste off my fingers made me regret not indulging that particular thirst.

I find Nicasia easily, splendid in a pearl white gown, talking to Randalin. The small sprite does not stand a chance against her. His goat eyes shift towards me, then he bows deeply. Nicasia turns to me, unable to hide her surprise and delight that I have come to her.

“Cardan,” she croons.

Randalin chokes on nothing, animal eyes going wide. I raise a brow at Nicasia and cross my arms.

“Your Majesty,” she corrects herself, a purplish tint blossoming on her cheeks. I will never tire of this.

“Princess Nicasia.” I take her hand and kiss her knuckles. “Would you accompany me on a walk? For old time’s sake.”

“It would be my pleasure,” she beams up at me.

We make boring small talk as we walk, her arm looped around my elbow. The path leads us away from the Palace, towards the beach separating the Shifting Isles. Jude seemed to think Nicasia still liked me, and I suppose I can see it. She looks up at me with clear interest, though the conversation is as weary as can be. I work my charm up even more. A small hibiscus shrub blossoms as we walk past and I pluck a flower, tucking it in her hair with a calculated graze of my knuckles against her cheek.

The sea does not rise to greet us as we set foot on the sand.

“The sea is unnaturally calm,” I say.

I chuck off my shoes and Nicasia’s eyes dart straight to my bare feet. I hope Jude does not ask me if she was right that Nicasia still holds feelings for me, I fear I would not be able to lie.

“It is,” she says, turning back towards the sea.

I slowly uncuff my shirt for the second time today. I chase away the memories of Jude’s curious fingers on me. The way she explored and grabbed at me like she needed to figure me out, to plan out how to efficiently unravel me next time.

Next time.

I hope there is a next time.

“I must admit I am surprised,” I tell her nonchalantly, "I thought the Undersea always made true on their threats.”

I will the nearest tree to stretch out a branch towards me. I unbutton my shirt and remove it, then hang it on the branch.

“What do you mean?” Nicasia asks.

She turns to me. The way she devours me with her eyes takes me back to a time of shared wickedness and complicity. A time when it was us against the world, a time when she chose me over my siblings.

Until she chose Locke over me.

Now do you believe me that she wants you? Jude had asked. I suppose I do.

At one point, this look on Nicasia’s face would have set all my nerves on fire. Now, I feel the same as when strangers ogle me.

“Cleave together lest you face the rising tide,” I singsong, reciting the words from Queen Orlagh’s minion at the Hunter’s Moon revel in the same melody they used. “Yet the sea stays quiet. I take it your kind has another plan.”

I reach for the lace holding together my breeches and pull at the knot. Nicasia looks down at her hands, suddenly captivated by her nails.

“Perhaps,” she says too quickly. “Or perhaps we hope you will come to your senses.”

“We all hope so.”

Including me. Just not about this particular issue. My issue is of the mortal kind, the kind who deals in secrets and knives.

I hang my pants next to my shirt. Nicasia is still fully dressed, standing with her back straight and her lips tightly shut. I stop in front of her and trail a finger up her arm before slipping it under one of the straps of her dress.

“Will you not join me, Princess?”

My tail brushes up her spine and she arches towards me. I don’t wait for her to answer, though. I run into the sea.

The water is cold, unwelcoming. Before becoming High King, the salt water would not have bothered me as much. With only minor magic, only ingesting salt would have hurt me. Now, it grates at my skin like sandpaper, as if eating away my skin to get to the magic within. My magic recoils from any part of me in contact with the water. It’s heinous. I would rather take a dip in the Lake of Masks.

On the shore, Nicasia strips off her dress, hose, heels, tiara, everything. Then, she runs towards the water in a wave of blue-tinged skin and blue hair. She dives under, agile and more in her element than I could ever be.

She resurfaces next to me, a smile on her painted lips.

“Like old times,” she says.

“Like old times, but so much more complicated.” I sigh, then cast my line. “It used to be so easy.”

She takes a step towards me, biting the bait. “What was?”

And I reel it in.

“Everything,” I say with a frown. I take a step towards her, and put my hand on her cheek. “Us.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” she says softly.

“It does.” I sigh again. “Do you realize how hard it is to please everyone? The Living Council is always on my case. And my seneschal—”

She groans. “Why do you even keep her around?”

Because she commands me. Because she is the true ruler of Elfhame. Because I love her.

“I have to.”

Nicasia puts her hand over mine. Her fingers are webbed now, I notice. No gills, however. I suppose she knows I have no desire to ever follow her under again. Now that I am High King, I don’t have to—unlike when I was no more than the lover of the Future Queen of the Undersea.

I wonder if Nicasia notices the way I look at Jude. I wonder if I used to look at her like that, or if it was something else. I did love Nicasia, once, but it was never as labyrinthine.

I try to emulate that look just now, I try to look at her like I used to. Nicasia is still the same beautiful creature she always was: a perfectly symmetrical face composed of sharp angles and large, deep eyes. She is beautiful in the way a painting is, a piece of art to be admired. Just like art, she can make you feel things—but it’s nothing as primordial as what I feel for Jude. Like she is the beating heart I am tethered to.

“There are things I can choose for myself.”

I stroke her cheek with my thumb. She leans into my touch, angling her head towards my hand.

“… things?” Nicasia asks.

“Lovers. Consorts.” I lean in towards her ear and whisper, “A Queen.”

The words sound so wrong, they claw at my throat as they come out. I am surprised I can even say them, but they are not lies. I simply have no desire to make Nicasia any of these things.

“Ca—Your Majesty,” she gasps.

“We’re in private. Cardan is fine.”

I kiss the soft spot under her ear, then pull at the lobe with my teeth. Her skin tastes salty. Like seawater, of course, not the salty tang of sweat drying on skin after an exhausting training session. The point of her ear is unsettling, sharp like a blade.

“Cardan.” She slides a hand behind my neck, toying with my hair the way she knows I like. “Why refuse me so often then?”

I pull back to look at her, my hands roaming down to settle on her small waist.

“My subjects think me… young. Foolish.” I look towards the Palace, the grassy hill looming over the trees. “They already say I am a puppet.”

“They are the fools,” she spits.

I shake my head. “I am a fool. Regardless, if I were to marry so early after being crowned, they would think you the mother of puppets. The one who pulls my strings.”

“Especially given my mother’s insistence,” she says and I nod.

I pull her to me, her hips pressing against mine. Bone against bone. Wildly different from the soft but strong body I was exploring hours earlier.

“Politics, you know.” I sigh. “Tedious.”

I think I am overdoing it on the sighs, but what can I say? I am quite dramatic, even when I am not acting.

“Still,” I lean in, barely a hair’s breadth away from her face, “I have a say in whom I woo.”

Our lips crash together like waves on rocks. Hers are cold, which is fitting seeing how unaffected I am by this. It’s the kind of lustful kiss I give my partners, no feelings other than desire. My body is not fooled, however—kissing Nicasia has about the same effect on me as listening to Fala’s ramblings. I tip her head backward and she complies, malleable and utterly bewitched. My other hand slides from her hip to her buttox. I squeeze a barely-there cheek and she giggles against my mouth.

One of her hands is tangled in my hair while the other one slips from my shoulder down my back. As she has always done, she avoids my scars like they are made of iron. When we were together, I thought it was for my own sake that she never acknowledged them. That she was being kind, in her own way. When I had fresh wounds and I refused to take off my clothes, she understood. But when I ended it and my mind stormed to figure out what went wrong and led her astray, it started to feel more intentional. Like she sees my scars as weakness and she fears that touching them would contaminate her.

“I miss us,” she whispers against my lips.

I only hum an agreement, pulling away to kiss at her throat. Her hand continues its careful trek down my back, until she gets at the base on my spine. A dreadful shiver goes up my spine as I anticipate what she is about to do. Sure enough, her fingers circle the base of my tail. She strokes it, letting it slip between her fingers for the whole length of it. I jerk away, take a step back. As if to spite me, the sea places a slimy rock right under my foot and I slip, falling backwards into the water with the grace of a drunken redcap.

I spit out no less than a gallon of water as I resurface, choking on the salt that is sure to take days to leave my system. Nicasia’s mouth is twisted up in remnants of a smile, her eyes glinting with amusement.

“What happened?” she asks as I stand.

“Something… touched me,” I grumble, a faerie truth if nothing else.

She reaches out, moving a wet strand of hair away from my face. “The High King is afraid of a little fishie?”

I scowl, then splash her with water. “I am not afraid.”

Nicasia chuckles. I shrug her off, starting towards the beach.

“Leaving already?” she teases.

“My guards will start looking for me soon enough, if my seneschal isn’t already on her way.”

Nicasia grunts, probably rolling her eyes dramatically as she follows behind me. “That mortal has too much power.”

I stop in front of the branch I left my clothes on. I still feel the salt on my skin, drying there as the water drips away. I grab my tail and wring water from the tuft at the end of it.

“Does she?” I ask, bored.

“Yes!” Nicasia steps around and puts herself between me and the branch. “What will our world become if mortals do not learn their place? As their power grows, we ought to unite. The Land. The Sea.”

“Nicasia—” I start, but she interrupts me.

“The sea is growing impatient, Cardan,” Nicasia continues, a hint of irritation hidden under the usually pleasant lilt of her voice. “My mother thinks the Land is weak, she might act any moment.”

I inspect my nails, picking a grain of salt from under one of them. “If the Crown is so weak, why try to unite with us at all?”

“I want us to be united,” she spreads her hands, palm up.

“And I want to bathe. Your regnal birthright is quite cold.”

I step around her and start dressing up. Behind me, I hear her stop, then the rustling of fabric.

“Do not jest,” she scolds. “What she’s planning—you should take it seriously.”

“I do. And I will think it over, once I am warmed up.” I finish cuffing my shirt, then hold my arm out for her. “Will you accompany me?”

Arm in arm, we return to the Palace. Even without their High King, the Folk still partake in their traditional merriment. Unheeding of my vague promises and empty words, Nicasia spends the rest of the night at my side. We trade kisses and caresses for everyone to see. Later, we move to the rooms assigned to her to do more of the same, to bathe and exchange soft whispers. When I leave Nicasia’s chambers, she hands me notes regarding her mother’s plans to attack during Taryn Duarte’s wedding.

As I collapse on my bed, finally alone, I curse Jude’s name for being right. Still, her name is the last thing on my mind as I drift asleep.

-

tag list: @thefolkofthefic @figonas @kingandfireheart @godgavemelou @lizziebxnnet @hazelsheartsworn

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[hazel-light]

Chapter Word Count: ~7,400

Total Fic Word Count: ~30,000

Genre: (Wedding) Fake Dating, Friends to Lovers, lots of bed sharing and every self indulgent fluffy trope possible.

Warnings: None? Lots of fluff? Occasional cussing? Some suggestive themes, moments, and jokes I guess. No smut or anything!

Disclaimer: I am not Daniel Sharman, and I do not pretend to know how he would act, speak, etc. This is fiction okay, there’s a lot of creative license, and potential to be OOC. Ricky isn’t mentioned because I started writing this before we knew he existed, so apologies for that. Also, if you’re DShar himself, please do us both a favor and don’t read this, okay???? Same if you know him 🙈

Title taken from the song Yellow Lights by Harry Hudson which suits this story quite a bit!

A/N: You thought I'd skip all the possibilities and tropes that come with the holidays?! Of course not. This is the final part to Yellow Lights. Thank you all for making my return to writing and posting so wonderful. I am so, so, grateful. I hope the ending lives up to your expectations. <3

The next month and a half passes by uneventfully. I try not to spend all of my time thinking about how great Rachel's wedding was, and equally try to ignore the wistful feeling Henry’s wedding left me with. Having Daniel be my fake boyfriend in front of my family showed me everything that I’d ever wanted; someone who fit in seamlessly, who loved me for me, with the perfect balance of romance and friendship. Whatever crush I had successfully buried when Daniel and I first met is now achingly hard to avoid. I curse my active imagination and optimism for letting me indulge in the moments of pretend, leaning too comfortably into our façade.

As a result, I don’t talk to Daniel much. He is busy finishing filming his project in London, and I try to focus on my life in LA. I’ve become paranoid that every text I send him is one too many, too annoying, or too bothersome. I figure I can reassess things when Daniel comes home from filming, and try to find my footing in our friendship again.

This seems like a solid plan until I’m on Zoom with my family for Thanksgiving. Since I’ve already flown back once this year for the wedding, and I’m planning to fly back again next month for Christmas, staying put for Thanksgiving was the economical choice. The call is mostly uneventful until the subject of Daniel comes up.

“Where’s that boy?” Aunt Judith crows from her spot at the dining table.

“Hmm?” I ask.

“She means Daniel.” Ryan rolls his eyes, bringing the iPad closer to her.

“Oh! Right.” I try to recover. “He’s still away filming his new project, actually, but I was able to fly out to see him at the end of September for another wedding, actually.”

Aunt Judith frowns. “That’s a long time to not see someone that handsome—” I start to laugh, “Are you sure he’s not cheating on you?”

Oh shit. It’s in this moment that I realize Daniel and I had never “broken up” as far as my family knows. I hear the rest of my family start sputtering in the background.

“Aunt Judith— you can’t just—”

“That’s awful, I—”

“It is kind of a long time, huh?—”

I try to keep a straight face. “Guys! It’s okay. He’s an actor, it comes with the territory. I expected this.”

“So you aren’t sure that he’s not cheating on you?” Ryan frowns.

“That isn’t what I meant, Ry. Daniel and I are fine. We’re really good, actually.”

“Well I certainly hope you’ll be bringing him home for Christmas then.” Aunt Judith huffs.

“It would be nice to see him,” Rachel speaks up for the first time, and her husband Nick nods. “I didn’t get to talk to him a whole lot at the wedding.”

I clear my throat, my mind racing. “You know, we haven’t actually talked about what we’re doing for Christmas yet; I’ll have to see what he’s doing— if he’s going to spend it with his family.”

“But you’re still coming home,” Ryan states.

“Yes, I am still coming home, no matter what.”

Ryan and Rachel’s mom, my auntie Kim speaks up. “I think it’s pretty common for a boyfriend to defer to his girlfriend’s family for the holidays. I mean, Ryan splits the day with Katharine of course, but Nick always came here with Rachel.”

“I hear you, Auntie Kim, but Daniel never gets to see his family so I’m not sure— all I’m saying is I’m not sure. He may very well come, and I will let you all know as soon as I know.” I smile tersely.

“Well hurry up, and find out,” Auntie Kim chastises. “Christmas is only a month away.”

When I hang up with them, it’s 7pm and I’m feeling antsy. How could I have forgotten that my entire family still thought Daniel and I were together? I’m not sure how to get out of this one. Tired of panicking alone in my head, I pick up my phone and dial Daniel before I can talk myself out of it. It rings and rings, and my anxiety that he won’t answer grows with each tone.

Eventually I hear rustling on the other line.

“Lauren?” Daniel’s voice crackles through the phone.

“Hi.”

“Are you alright?”

“What? Uh— yeah, I just needed to talk to you about something—” I glance at the time on my phone. “Oh god, no. What time is it there? I’m so sorry— I didn’t even stop to think about the time difference, I—”

I hear him suppress a yawn. “Lauren. It must be pretty important if you’re calling me AND rambling like this.”

“No, no, it can wait, I’m sorry— uh, go back to bed. I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“Lauren,” he stops me softly and firmly. “Stop apologizing. What’s going on?”

I sit quietly, feeling like an absolute idiot.

“Lauren, come on. You can tell me.”

“I— we… we never broke up?”

He laughs. “Sorry, what?”

“We never broke up.”

“Am I still asleep, is this a dream?”

“My family still thinks we’re together and they asked me if you’re coming home for Christmas.”

We’re both quiet for a moment.

“Oh.” is all he says.

“I talked to them for Thanksgiving, and they were asking about you. I realized too late that they thought we were still together— because I never told them we broke up. I didn’t think it through this far.”

“Right, I didn’t either.”

My phone starts ringing, telling me Daniel’s trying to FaceTime me.

I accept, and I’m faced with a dark screen.

“Why are we FaceTiming?”

I hear a lamp click on and suddenly Daniel’s face is illuminated as he lays in bed, lines from his pillow still on his face.

“Figured we should at least be able to see each other if you’re going to break up with me in the middle of the night,” he teases.

I shake my head. “Not funny, this is serious, D.”

“I know, I know.”

“If I break up with you, they’re going to yell at me and tell me I’m a stupid idiot.”

Daniel laughs.

“And if you break up with me they’re going to hate you, which means they’ll hate that we managed to ‘stay friends.’ And if it’s mutual…..” I shake my head, thinking. “They’ll think we were lying.”

“Which we were.”

I sigh, “Which we were.”

“So,” Daniel pulls his blanket up higher. “What are our options here?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I called you.”

I watch him stare off into space and reminisce about when I got to see this sleepy Daniel firsthand in Cape Cod.

“I could come for Christmas…” he trails off and I frown.

“That seems like asking a lot. You’ve already given up a lot of your free time this year for me.”

He shrugs into his pillow. “Do you not want me to come for Christmas?”

I pause. “I mean, that isn’t really the issue here. You have to be tired of being in love with me by now.”

He laughs loudly — a stark contrast to the quiet of his room. “Yes, being in love with you is very exhausting.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“I’m kidding. Being in love with you is not exhausting. At all.”

I roll my eyes and say nothing. “I don’t think I can bear to break your family’s hearts at Christmas of all times.”

“Man of the year.” I drawl. “What are you supposed to be doing for Christmas? Going home?”

“No, usually I travel somewhere, but I hadn't decided yet.”

I hum in response.

“Kind of leaning towards traveling to Massachusetts now, if I’m honest.”

I look at him incredulously, only to see a playful grin on his face, but I know he’s serious.

“I’m not going to stop you if you really want to come. But I—” I swallow. “Eventually we’re going to need to plan for whatever happens after Christmas.”

He nods. “I know, we will. Let’s just enjoy Christmas together, first.”

I smile. “Okay. We can enjoy it. Together.”

He clears his throat. “I hope I’m not too rusty at this boyfriend performance, it’s been a few months.”

“Daniel Sharman has performance issues… I hope that doesn’t get out to the press.”

His eyes flash. “Bold, for you.”

I shrug. “You walked into that one, baby.”

“Well, you’re lucky you’re cute, darling.”

We look at each other for a moment, and I hope my eyes don’t give away how fond I am for this man who is willing to commit to fake-loving me, and putting up with my family, and who is setting the bar way too high for any actual real relationship I could hope for.

So much for reburying my feelings.

I break eye contact first. “I’ll let you get back to sleep. Sorry again for waking you up.”

“Do Not Disturb doesn’t apply to you, Lauren. Call any time.”

I smile softly. “Sweet dreams, I’ll text you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight.”

—-

I’m standing in the Boston Logan airport waiting for international arrivals; specifically Daniel’s flight from London. According to the board, his flight landed 15 minutes ago, so he should be coming to the lobby any time now. I bounce on my feet, simultaneously eager and nervous to see Daniel for the first time since parting ways after Henry and Claire’s wedding.

Eventually I see the hat and sunglasses I recognize from a selfie he sent me earlier, and I can feel my heart race. I begin walking towards him, and feel my pace quicken as I get closer. Eventually he sees me too and he’s grinning at me with his signature toothy smile that I missed so much.

When we come into contact I don’t know what the appropriate response is, so I simply grin up at him.

“Hi,” I breathe.

“Hi,” he smiles back, and before I know it he’s closer than he was before and he’s ducking down to kiss me.

It surprises me but I respond quickly, leaning up to meet him.

When it’s over he pulls back just enough to nuzzle his nose with mine.

“Missed you,” he says softly.

“Missed you most.” I smile.

He stands up straight, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder, threading his other hand through mine.

I can’t see his eyes, but I assume he must be looking around when he speaks.

“Oh, are you by yourself?”

The question catches me off guard.

“Yeah— well, Ryan’s in the car, circling so he wouldn’t have to pay for parking,” I roll my eyes.

He nods, “Sorry, then—“ he makes an inconclusive gesture. “Suppose I didn’t need to kiss you quite yet.”

My stomach drops and I smile tightly, “That’s okay— better safe than sorry. I get it.”

He tugs on my hand pulling me into a hug.

“I did miss you, though.”

“And I still missed you most.” I tease.

Daniel shakes his head, but doesn’t argue, pulling back from me and reaching for his suitcase with his freehand.

“Let’s get this show on the road.”

—-

I bring Daniel upstairs to show him around, and so he can put his suitcase in my room.

“Welcome to my childhood bedroom,” I announce, opening the door and leading Daniel inside.

“Wow, where little Lauren grew up,” Daniel teases looking around. When I first arrived home yesterday, I was quick to tidy up, and hide anything that was too embarrassing, but my room is more or less the exact same as I had left it when I was 18 and moving to college.

I nod. “Yes, many secrets to my backstory can be discovered in here.”

Daniel laughs.

Ryan appears in my doorway leaning against the doorframe.

“Just so you know, Daniel, my bedroom is on the other side of this wall,” he nods to his right. “I can hear everything that happens in here. The walls are thin.”

I frown, blushing, “Ew, Ryan.”

Daniel just laughs and smirks, “Got it, bro.”

I look at him incredulously, “Don’t encourage him.”

The two share a look and shrug, seemingly equally enjoying my discomfort.

“Dinner’s ready!” Auntie Kim calls up to us.

I use that as my cue, brushing past both of them to go downstairs, leaving their laughter behind me.

—-

After Christmas Eve dinner, Katharine stops by and the four of us decide to watch the classic, How the Grinch Stole Christmas. I’m the last to arrive in the living room, and when I enter I immediately notice that Ryan is cuddled up with Katharine, and sprawled out over the entire couch, leaving Daniel sitting in the only other seat— the armchair.

I narrow my eyes at them, “Are you guys for real?”

Ryan looks at us and hums innocently, “What?”

“You took the entire couch.”

I see Katharine bite her lip in amusement, as Ryan shrugs.

“I assumed you guys would cuddle anyway. Can you not share the armchair?”

Daniel intervenes, “Of course we can. C’mon Laur.”

He pats his lap. I hesitate briefly before nestling into his lap, tucking my head into his neck.

“Am I crushing you?” I whisper.

“Not at all, you’re keeping me warm.”

I huff a laugh as he puts the blanket over us and Ryan starts the movie. The steady rise and fall of his chest brings me a sense of peace and I have to try not to fall asleep, especially when his fingers gently caress my arm and my leg where he’s holding me to him. I exhale, turning further into his neck and nuzzling into him.

“Tickles,” he breathes, just shy of a whisper.

“You smell good,” I tell him, letting my eyes close.

His chuckle reverberates through his body. “Thanks, darling.”

I feel my eyes shut and sleep take over. I start to come to when I hear the ending song come on, and it drifts into whatever dream I’m having.

“She asleep?” I hear Ryan ask.

“Think so,” Daniel answers.

“You need help waking her up?”

“No, I’ve got it, thanks though. Nice seeing you, Katharine.”

I hear footsteps retreat and feel a series of kisses pressed to my shoulder, as Daniel’s long fingers brush hair away from my face.

“Time to wake up, pretty girl. You can go back to sleep once we’re in your bed.”

I shake my head no, clinging to him tighter.

“Like this bed.” I murmur drowsily.

He laughs softly. “Promise we can cuddle there too.”

“Promise?” I ask, peeking one eye open.

“I promise,” he confirms, pressing one more kiss to my shoulder.

I lift my head to look at him, rubbing my eyes.

“There she is,” he smiles gently at me.

I smile back sleepily, the words coming out before I fully think them through.

“Wanna know a secret?”

“Tell me.”

I swallow, letting my gaze flicker down to his mouth for just a moment. “I like cuddling with you.”

“You do, huh?”

I nod.

“Well the feeling’s mutual. Let’s go upstairs and brush our teeth so we can cuddle more in your bed.”

“Okay,” I relent, getting off of him. He stands up after me and I instinctively lace my fingers with his, leading us back upstairs. When we’re brushed and changed, we settle ourselves in bed and I claim my spot tucked into his neck again.

“Sweet dreams,” he says, kissing the top of my head. I echo the sentiment and gently kiss the spot on his neck I’m closest to. His arms tighten around me and I’m falling asleep again.

—-

For once, I wake up before Daniel. He looks peaceful as he sleeps on his stomach, his arm across my waist, face half smushed into the pillow. I turn my head to look at the clock to see it’s about 9:30 and know the others will be waking up soon. I turn back to Daniel and card my fingers gently through his hair. Eventually his breathing changes and his eyes flutter open, still clouded with sleep.

“Merry Christmas,” I whisper, our faces just inches apart.

He pulls himself closer to me, nuzzling into my side and closing his eyes again. “Merry Christmas.”

It’s quiet for a moment before he speaks again, voice raspy with sleep. “Is everyone else awake?”

“No, I don’t think so. I haven’t heard anyone up and around… they might be soon. Usually we kind of wander downstairs around 10, and it’s just past 9:30.”

He hums in response.

“You can go back to sleep for a little while if you want,” I offer, still running my fingers through his hair. “I’ll wake you when it’s time to go downstairs.”

I start to think he’s drifted off to sleep again when he opens his eyes and looks at me. “No, I can get up. I want to give you your present.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “I told you not to get me anything; you coming here like this with me— twice— is more than enough.”

He rolls his eyes, detaching himself from me and rolling out of bed. “And look like the asshole who didn’t get his girlfriend anything for Christmas? Not a chance.”

I sit up. “We could’ve lied about it—”

“Lauren,” Daniel looks back at me exasperatedly, leaning over his suitcase. “It’s Christmas. Please just open your present.”

He pulls out a neatly wrapped, thin rectangle and places it in my lap, sitting next to me on the bed.

“Merry Christmas, Laur.”

I carefully unwrap the package to reveal a framed art print, with a circle of stars in the middle; underneath it says “The Night Everything Changed” with the coordinates of what I assume to be Los Angeles. I look up to him with soft eyes, and he gives a one shouldered shrug.

“Saw an ad for this online— where you can get the night sky documented of any night you want, anywhere you want. I thought it would be nice to commemorate this past year, for us…” he trails off, and I hug the frame to my chest.

“Daniel, I love it— Really, really love it. It’s so thoughtful.” I reach out and thread our fingers together. “I’m going to hang this in my room. I want it somewhere I see every day.”

He smiles and squeezes my hand. “I’m glad you like it. I actually wanted to talk to you about something— in relation to this. I—”

We’re interrupted by a light knocking on the door, and we both turn.

“Are you guys awake?” Ryan’s voice calls.

“Yeah, we’ll be out in a sec!” I answer.

I turn back to Daniel who squeezes my hand and moves to get up, but I pull him back.

“They can wait; this is special. I want to hear what you have to say.” I smile at him warmly, but he shakes his head, lifting the back of my hand to kiss it.

“It’s alright, I’d rather wait and tell you when we have more time to talk.”

I frown. “Promise me you won’t forget?”

He laughs. “Trust me, I won’t forget.”

He moves to stand, pulling me up with him to go downstairs, but I stop him, wrapping my arms around him tightly.

“Thank you, D. It means a lot to me.”

He returns my embrace, placing a kiss to the top of my head.

When we pull apart, I take his hand again. “Time for Christmas. Your present is under the tree, by the way.”

Daniel laughs. “A present double-standard.”

I shake my head and lead him out of the room.

—-

I think we’re done with presents when Ryan surprises me, coming over to Daniel and I on the loveseat.

“This is for both of you, kind of.” He hands me a thin, narrow gift.

Daniel looks up, surprised. “Thanks, man. That was thoughtful of you.”

He looks at me, silently asking, did you know about this?, and I shake my head no.

I unwrap the package to find a small frame, with a one hundred dollar bill matted in the middle. I look at Ryan and furrow my eyebrows.

“It's the hundred bucks I said I’d give you if you brought a real date to Rachel’s wedding. Seeing as the same guy is here for Christmas I figured you earned it. Thought I’d frame it— but you can take it out and spend it on a date or something, I don’t care.”

Auntie Kim squints. “Sorry, you told her what?”

I roll my eyes and try to avoid the way my stomach sinks at the reminder of how this all started.

I feel Daniel’s hand on my knee. “Clever, Ryan.”

I look over at him to see him flashing his polite interview smile, and I instantly know he knows exactly what I’m feeling.

Auntie Kim stands and stretches. “I don’t get it, but I’m going to go start breakfast. Your sister and Nick are picking up Judith soon and then they’re coming over. Katharine isn’t coming until dinner, right, Ryan?”

As Ryan confirms, she walks out of the room. Ryan turns back to us. “Mind if I shower first?”

I shake my head no, still lost in my thoughts, and I hear Daniel tell him to go ahead.

We’re left alone and I feel Daniel’s thumb brushing my knee.

“Thank you for my presents.”

“You’re welcome— I’m glad you like them; they don’t beat your present for me though.”

He rolls his eyes and we sit for a moment, the framed hundred dollar bill still in my hands.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

I look at him and shake my head. “I don’t know. Just an odd reminder of how this started, and that it’s going to have to end soon, I guess.”

Daniel frowns. “We haven’t really gotten to talk about that. Why don’t we table that for later— we still have a nice day ahead of us. Those are problems for tomorrow.”

I nod and smile at him, and he pulls me in to kiss my temple, and I hear the click of an iPhone camera. I look up to see Auntie Kim in the doorway.

“Sorry, I just wanted to tell you that the coffee’s on. It was too cute not to capture.”

Daniel stands up, offering me his hand. “Make sure you send me a copy. I’ll have to add it to my collection.”

I chuckle as I stand. “Let me guess; the album is called ‘Cute and Shit.’”

He grins. “How’d you know?”

—-

Christmas flies by. It’s filled with good food, wine, and everyone I love. It’s hours after dinner, and Auntie Kim has already driven Aunt Judith home before going to bed herself.

Ryan, Katharine, Daniel, and I are all still seated around the dining room table playing some kind of team card game, and everyone’s faces are red from laughter and wine.

I can’t help but watch Daniel, who is in some kind of hilarious argument with Ryan over some card he pulled. His eyes shine from the light of the chandelier, and his smile is big and bright, taking over his whole face.

It hits me in this moment that I’ve surpassed unlabeled romantic feelings; I am truly in love with this man. The realization consumes me until Katharine knocks her shoulder into mine giggling.

“Can you believe we love these idiots?”

“Sometimes it’s a hard pill to swallow,” I tease, giggling, catching Daniel’s eye mid-argument. He winks at me and I feel my already red cheeks flush even deeper.

“You two are so cute,” Katharine continues, watching our interaction. She lowers her voice, whispering to me behind her wine glass. “I was kind of worried that when you got a boyfriend he wouldn’t mesh well with our dynamic, ya know? But it kind of feels like Daniel’s always been here.”

Her words vocalize the thoughts that have been ringing in my head all day. “I know what you mean.”

Katharine dramatically clears her throat. “Are you two done? Is it our turn yet?”

—-

We part ways from Ryan and Katharine in the hallway, giggling and shushing each other in the wee hours of the morning. I shut my door behind me and waggle my eyebrows at Daniel.

“Uh oh, there’s trouble,” he teases. “Planning to seduce me?”

I shrug exaggeratedly and he laughs before looking around. “Fuck, where are my sweatpants?”

I giggle. “They’re literally right behind you on the chair.”

“Oh, thanks.” He grabs them before looking at me. “Can I change in here tonight?”

I flush. “Yeah, sure.”

After sharing a room together all this time, this is the first time we’ve changed in front of each other and the thought makes my skin tingle. I make my way over to my dresser, pulling out my own sleep shorts and t-shirt. I wiggle out of my pants and pull on my shorts, glancing over my shoulder to see Daniel, shirtless, adjusting his sweatpants on his hips. My throat runs dry, and I turn around to pull my own shirt over my head, reaching behind me to unclip my bra once it’s on. I bundle my discarded clothes in my hand, walking over to toss them in the hamper. I turn around to find Daniel already looking at me. He’s still shirtless and my eyes drift to his defined chest. He looks down as if noticing for the first time.

“It’s really, uh, hot in here.” He speaks again. “Would it bother you if I slept shirtless?”

I shake my head, mentally screaming. “No, it is warm,” I agree, reaching up to put my hair in a bun on top of my head.

He watches me intently, and I laugh self consciously. “What?”

“Nothing. Just thinking about how this was the best Christmas I’ve had in a while.”

My face lights up. “Really?”

“Yeah.” I see his grin quirk up, and know something else is coming. “I’d say it was almost perfect.”

“Oh?” I question, finishing my bun. “Go on.”

“We fit in a lot of classic traditions today, but we missed one that I’m quite fond of.”

I look at him, trying to think of what it could be, as he takes a step closer to me.

“There wasn’t any mistletoe.”

I swallow. “There wasn’t.” I pause, my mind racing. Before I can fully think it through I find myself offering, “But we could pretend?”

“Hmm?” He murmurs, taking a step closer to me so he’s right in front of me now. I know he’s giving me a chance to take it back, or make a joke; I’m nervous, but I don’t want to take it back. I just really want to kiss him.

“I’d really like it if you had a perfect Christmas.”

“And you?” He questions softly. “What would make it a perfect Christmas for you?”

Instead of answering him, I reach up on my tiptoes to kiss him for a moment, pulling back to look him in the eyes. His eyes meet mine in some unspoken understanding, and then he’s dipping down to kiss me again.

He kisses me softly, delicately, like all the kisses at the wedding. He pulls back briefly to look at me, as if he still expects me to change my mind. I kiss him again, wanting there to be no doubt in his mind, and he kisses me back with purpose and passion, and I’m caught off guard by the weight of it. I gasp, and Daniel uses this opportunity to deepen the kiss, pulling me closer. It reminds me of our very first kiss back on his couch. My arms move around his neck, pulling our bodies flush together.

Daniel pulls away first, but barely, breathing hard, kissing down from my jaw to my neck.

This is definitely new territory for us.

I move my hands to his hair, and he groans at the feeling. I can’t help myself as I sigh breathlessly, a shiver running down my back. He grins against my neck, his teeth scraping at my skin and I moan softly.

“Wait,” I say breathlessly, a thought somehow flitting through my mind. “Earlier, didn’t you say there was something else I should know about my present?”

“I can tell you tomorrow,” he murmurs into my neck between kisses. “It’s time for bed.” He tugs me down onto the bed so I’m underneath him, resuming his kisses on my neck.

“This doesn't seem like going to sleep to me,” I tease.

“It is, shhhh, you’re dreaming.”

“That I’d believe,” I laugh, and Daniel smirks, moving so we're eye to eye again.

“Dream about me often?”

“Shhh.” I pull him closer, turning his words back on him. “You’re dreaming, go back to bed.”

“Happily,” he murmurs, kissing me again.

I bring my hands down to his bare shoulders, feeling his warm, toned skin against my fingertips. I gently drag my nails down his chest to his stomach, and I feel his muscles clench at my touch. I can’t help but smirk to myself as he pulls away to rest his forehead on my shoulder, letting out a shuddering breath. I bring my nails around his back, tracing up his taut muscles and across his shoulder blades.

I feel one of his hands come down, pushing my shirt up, his mouth pressing hot kisses to my abdomen. His nose takes over pushing my shirt up, exploring every new inch revealed with his mouth, his hand now running over my thigh, fingers squeezing occasionally, slowly climbing higher. As his hand reaches the bottom of my shorts, he lightly tugs at the fabric. He pauses, his blue eyes tentatively peering up at me.

“Can I…?” He looks nervous, like I’ll reject him. As if I have ever rejected him, or could ever manage to deny him. I’m not even entirely sure what he’s asking but I find myself nodding quickly. As he goes to tug my shorts down we hear a bang on the wall we share with Ryan followed by a crash, a “Shhhh” and a “Shit.”

We both startle and look over toward the wall, before looking back at each other and laughing softly.

“Ugh, I don’t want to know,” I say, shaking my head.

“You probably, definitely don’t.” He smiles at me before pulling his hand off my shorts, and my shirt back down, letting his fingers trace along the waistband of my shorts before he clears his throat. “We should, uh, get some sleep.”

I blink at the abrupt change in mood before nodding awkwardly. “Okay, sure.”

He rolls off of me, and I reach over to shut the lamp off. I’m hesitant to cuddle up to him, unsure if what just happened changed something between us, but I’m relieved when I feel his arm wrap around me the way it always does. Neither of us say anything, and I try not to think about the last few minutes, the firmness of his body behind mine, or the way my body’s buzzing— closing my eyes to try and get some rest.

—-

The next two days with my family go pretty much the same way as Christmas did. Daniel gets on swimmingly with everyone, and my heart aches every time I realize that once the holidays are over, our charade is going to come to an end—a permanent end— this time. I try to ignore that thought and enjoy my time, basking in the coupley moments in front of my family, and leaning into every touch we share.

I never get a chance to ask about my Christmas present; the time never feels right, and Daniel doesn’t bring it up either. Nothing happens between us like Christmas night; when bedtime rolls around we change in the bathroom and go straight to bed. We cuddle, but there’s no after-dark kisses or wandering hands. I wonder if Daniel feels as self-conscious about that night as I do; if he does, he doesn’t show it.

—-

We’re in my room packing to go back to LA in an effort to try to beat the inevitable New Year’s rush at the airport.

“I need to find something to wrap this in so it doesn’t break in my luggage,” I frown, holding up Daniel’s present. “It’s my new prized possession— nothing can happen to it.”

Daniel looks over and laughs. “Want me to wrap it in my sweatpants? That's what I did on the way here.”

“Okay, thank you.” I pad across the floor and pass him the frame, our fingers brushing in the process.

“Of course.” His lips quirk up as he carefully arranges the frame in his suitcase.

A moment passes, and I wonder if now is a good time to ask about my present .

“Hey, I’ve been wanting to ask—“

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask you—“

We both stop mid-sentence and Daniel laughs, “Sorry what were you saying?”

I shake my head, courage gone. “No— sorry, go ahead.”

He looks at me curiously but continues, “Henry texted me; he and Claire invited us to their New Year’s Eve party. They’re having it in LA this year.”

I quirk an eyebrow. “Us? They want me to go?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, Claire apparently requested your presence specifically.”

“Oh, that’s nice of her. I usually stay in for New Year’s.”

“It could be fun— if you aren’t sick of me yet,” Daniel teases.

“Ha!" I laugh, "If you aren’t sick of me yet, more like.” I shake my head. “And don’t mind sharing your friends with me.”

“They’re basically your friends now, too,” he argues.

“I’m not sure one wedding constitutes that, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

“You should come.”

I stop and look at him.

“I’ll call a car and pick you up on the way.”

When I hesitate, he softens his voice. “Please come.”

I swallow, “Okay.”

I’m not a big party person, but I also know I don’t have it in my heart to deny him, especially after everything he’s done for me.

He grins. “Really?”

I nod. “Yeah, I’ll go.”

“Cool, I’ll, uh, let them know we’re coming.”

I bite my lip to suppress my smile and start planning my outfit in my head.

—-

When we arrive at Claire and Henry’s house on New Year’s Eve, I try not to gawk at the size. It’s massive and sits high on one of the tallest hills in LA, away from the noise of the city.

The first person to spot us as we walk in is, unfortunately, Eleanor. I’d hoped she was in London, and away from us, but alas.

“Daniel!” she squeals, throwing her arms around him. “I was so hoping you’d be here.”

“Hi, El,” he placates her with a strained smile. “You remember Lauren?” He gestures back to me.

“Laura?” she asks, disinterested.

“Lauren,” I correct, forcing myself to smile. “Nice to see you again.”

“Eleanor,” Daniel intervenes. “Could you point us in the direction of Henry and Claire, perhaps?”

She frowns, but quickly covers it up. “They were in the kitchen last I checked— we have just got to catch up later.”

“We will!” He agrees graciously. “Let us get a drink, and I’m sure we'll have plenty of time to talk later.”

Daniel puts a hand on my back, guiding me forward and into another room, which turns out to be the kitchen. He’s immediately drawn into a series of bro hugs and handshakes by Henry and some of his other friends.

“Lauren! I’m so glad you came!” I turn to find Claire by a table of beverages.

“Claire! So nice to see you, thank you for inviting me.”

“Thank you for coming,” she says, pulling me into a quick hug. “I told Daniel he just had to bring you.”

I laugh. “He told me you were quite persistent— I usually have a low key New Year’s at home, but this is a fun change of pace.”

“Can I get you a drink?” She asks, already reaching for a bottle of champagne.

“Sure, thank you.” I catch Daniel’s eye across the room; he’s being clapped on the back and led out of the kitchen. I smile reassuringly, hoping to communicate that I’m fine here. He seems to understand, as he smiles back and nods before turning back to his friends.

Claire giggles, bringing my attention back to her.

“You look at him with such heart eyes, it’s cute.”

I try to keep my face from panicking. “Sorry?” She laughs like my reaction is the funniest thing in the world. “Oh don’t worry, he looks at you just the same, so you’re fine.”

I chuckle nervously. “I think maybe you’ve got the wrong impression—”

She shrugs like we’re talking about something commonplace, like the weather.

“Maybe, it’s possible... but I don’t think so. Now come! There’s some other girls I’d love for you to meet.”

—-

I spend a good portion of the night talking with Claire and her friends. They’re all very kind to me, but eventually I excuse myself to get some air out on the balcony.

I’m looking up at the sky — it’s dark, dotted with faint stars and a distant passing plane — when I hear somebody come out and join me. As they settle next to me against the railing I immediately know who it is just by how comfortable I feel.

“Whatcha doin out here, LaurLaur? The New Year’s only a few minutes away.”

I grin at him. “Just getting some air and admiring the stars. From up here you can actually see them.”

He hums, looking up with me.

“It reminds me of a certain piece of art a certain someone got me for Christmas.”

He chuckles. “I’m glad you like it so much.”

“It was very thoughtful…. I wonder if any of the stars are in the same places as they were that night.”

“Which night?”

“The night everything changed. Your birthday.”

Daniel leans against the railing facing me, and looks like he’s about to say something before he changes his mind.

Eventually he speaks again. “Things are going to change again soon, right? You said you’re sure about the break up?”

I swallow, scoffing my shoe against the balcony floor.

“I mean, we still need to figure it out, but you can’t keep fake dating me forever. That isn’t fair to you.”

He smiles wistfully. “It’s not like there was anyone else I was trying to date.”

“I’m a lucky girl,” I lament, and Daniel blushes and shakes his head. “It’s a real shame we’re over, though," I jest, trying to lighten the mood. "I’ve never gotten to kiss anyone at midnight.”

His eyebrows raise in surprise. “Never?”

“Nope,” I pop the p and look down at my feet.

“Well.” He clears his throat conspiratorially. “We can agree not to bring our fake relationship into the New Year if you want, but if the kiss starts before midnight, I think we’d get by on a technicality...”

I laugh. “You really want Eleanor to hate me, don’t you?”

He grins cheekily and shakes his head. “Nah, I think I saw her latched onto some other poor bugger inside. We’re in the clear.”

I roll my eyes, looking back up at the sky. I feel his finger trace my arm, gently using my elbow to turn my attention back towards him.

His voice is softer now, “It’s up to you, but there’s no one else I’d rather kiss at midnight.”

I look into his eyes and realize he’s being sincere. My heart’s beating out of my chest. Yes, I want to kiss him, but I want it to mean something. I keep giving in because I know one day this is all going to go away, and I’ll be left with just my memories and heartache.

He must see some hesitance in my eyes, because he’s taking a step back.

“If you don’t want to, it’s fine. Really.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Not trying to pressure you into doing something you don’t want to do.”

I shake my head. “It’s not that I don’t want to, I just…” I trail off, looking over the balcony, trying to swallow my feelings, which have manifested as anxious tears in my eyes. I feel a tear escape, and I hastily reach up to wipe it away.

“Hey,” Daniel says gently. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t.” I let out a watery laugh. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m…”

I feel his steady stare, and I come to terms with the fact that I’ve really gotten myself into a mess that I can’t just smooth over. I’m going to have to tell him.

I take a minute to compose myself, and Daniel stays quiet giving me time to put my words together as I look anywhere but at him.

“I do want to kiss you, D,” I start slowly, trying to keep my voice steady, “but I can’t if it’s just another part of our fake relationship.”

He tugs me closer by hand, gently, so I have no choice but to look at him. I swallow the lump in my throat. “I… know this wasn’t supposed to be real. But it has been, for me.”

He shakes his head and squeezes my hand. “So then stop trying to break up with me.”

I blink at him, and he continues.

“The night everything changed— your star map— I wasn’t referencing the story we told your family about my birthday.” Daniel looks at me long and hard like I’m missing something totally obvious. “It’s actually the stars from a night a month or so later.”

A month or two— Oh. OH.

“The night Ryan FaceTimed me?” I whisper, afraid to be wrong.

He takes my other hand in his, lacing our fingers together. “Listen— Fuck. I’m in love with you, Lauren.” He looks at me so intensely and my head is spinning. “I love you, and I’m in love with you.”

“What?” I ask dumbly.

He licks his lips. “A wise woman once said to me, you don’t confess to ‘kind of like someone’ when you’ve already been friends as long as we have.”

I stare at him for a second, my cheeks burning. “Well your friend sounds pretty smart.” I swallow. “Because I love you, too.”

He laughs, relief flooding his features. He pulls me to his chest, crushing me and squeezing the air out of my lungs. Eventually he pulls back, hands cupping my face.

He grins and shakes his head. “She is smart, so, so smart, but I don’t want to be her friend anymore.”

“What do you mean?” My brows furrow in confusion, worried that somehow I’ve misread this whole interaction, my relief quickly being replaced by panic.

“Well.” He steps forward, keeping our faces incredibly close. “I’m hoping she agrees to be my very real girlfriend— that is, if she doesn’t break up with me first.”

I hear everyone inside start the countdown to midnight. I’m still looking into Daniel’s eyes in disbelief, my hands clinging to the front of his shirt.

When the countdown hits one, I’ve finally found the words I want to say.

“Happy New Year, boyfriend.”

He’s grinning as he kisses me, and I am too. It’s not our most elegant kiss, a mess of teeth and giggles, and whispered “I love you”s. We never stray too far from each other’s lips, kissing again and again like we can’t get enough— and maybe we can’t.

Eventually, we calm down a bit, and when we kiss this time it’s all-consuming, sucking the air out of my lungs. It feels like my love is fizzling to the top of my skin, and I feel it. ‘It’ being every indescribable emotion in our kisses this past year, but this time I know what it is: true, unadulterated, uninhibited love. I am in love with my best friend, who is now my boyfriend, and I don’t care who knows it— as long as he does.

His fingers press bruisingly into my hips before he pulls back just enough to look at me.

“Can we go home?” He whispers sheepishly, brushing some hair out of my face tenderly. “I’m kind of tired of sharing you with the public.”

I huff a laugh. “I know exactly what you mean.” I lean forward to kiss him one last time before pulling back to lace our fingers together, squeezing tightly. “Please— take me home, D.”

I don’t have to tell him twice.

---

tagged: @rogershoe @heyrowena @yunsh-17 @trenko-heart @dylxnshxrmxn

[ask-hunterxhunter]

Continuation of yandere trio: how would they b like as dads in their yandere state? What would the s/o do if she stsrted to notice that their kid starts to resemble their father's behavior? How would the adult trio react to their kid trying to help their mother escape?

Illumi

The S/O’s reaction would depend on many factors (personality, her state after everything that happened, so on), so it’s not so easy to predict it. As for Illumi’s, well… I can tell you it wouldn’t be pretty. It’s disturbing enough that Illumi would act as if you’re indeed married and happy together (though it is how he sees things), imagine how it would be with a baby.

 Because he doesn’t see anything wrong with his actions, Illumi wouldn’t force you to act as a “happy, loving wife” or bother to hide the circumstances of your relationship from his children (though he might not be so obvious, keeping a few details from them, such as kidnapping for example, especially during the first years of their lives, believing they’re “too young to understand”). It’s not that he would sit down with them at some point and tell that he’s kidnapped you, but he wouldn’t deny it if you told them. He wouldn’t be exactly happy if the child ended up asking “why do you hurt mommy” or “why don’t you love her”, but he wouldn’t go into a fit of rage, at least.

 If/When the child questioned Illumi about your “relationship”, he would give the same responses he gives when you try to explain to him that he is hurting you: Cold, “logical” arguments that completely ignore the matter of free will and the nature of feelings.

 Yes, it would be pretty messed up.

 Perhaps the only good thing we can say about this is that Illumi would never use them against you or vice-versa (such as keeping the baby away if you don’t behave, poisoning the child to hate you, or threatening to hurt them to keep you in line). He might forbid you from seeing them, but only in “extreme” cases as Illumi would have the whole “delusion that you’re a happy family” going on.

 This, however, is the only good thing we can say about Yandere!Illumi as a father. Remember the kind of yandere this guy is? The one likely to believe that you do love him, sees nothing wrong with his actions, and all? This sort of applies to his own child as well, in a sense. He would already want to raise them as he was raised but it would be worse in this case: The child would be more a part of his “ideal” of a family than individuals. Illumi would be a lot more “overprotective”, while also being manipulative, wanting to shape his children to be the “perfect successors” of his bloodline. While you can still argue with him about it, he will listen a lot less (if at all) than in a normal state of mind.

 It’s not that Illumi wouldn’t love them, but if the Zoldyck’s kind of “love” is already twisted normally, well, imagine how it would be in this scenario. He might even mention that he wouldn’t make the same mistakes he made with Killua.

 Actually, his behavior towards Killua is a pretty good indication of how he would be as a father, only worse.

 Thankfully, there is the chance of your influence and the child’s own nature rebelling against Illumi’s teachings, so they wouldn’t be an “Illumi 2.0”.

 Once Illumi realized your child is trying to help you escape (maybe even wanting to leave with you), whether you’re successful or not, he would be angry, confused, and even hurt (as hypocritical as that sounds). He is virtually incapable of understanding you both wanting to leave him. You’re a family, he loves you both, he keeps you safe… Your behavior makes no sense. Why would his wife and children want to go away?

 If you are caught in this attempt, Illumi would punish you both, all while saying that it’s not something he wants to, but he can’t have this bad behavior. He would probably place the child in chains and whip them, or some other “Zoldyck-like” punishment, while keeping you two from seeing each other for a while. If you guys kept trying, he might decide to put needles in the both of you to prevent future attempts.

 Hisoka

Hisoka never cared much for the idea of becoming a father, but once it happens, he accepts it and may surprise those around him by actually becoming excited about it after a while. This is all fine and good, but with him as a Yandere? Well, the excitement still happens and all, but it’s disturbing…

 Don’t try to point out how messed up this situation is, Hisoka will just smile and ask how can you say this? Don’t you see? You’re a family now. Yes, it’s possible that he hopes/believes this may work in his favor, somehow “pushing” you into accepting him. He certainly won’t hesitate to make use of it, often holding you close, whispering that this is “our child”, so on… Really, Hisoka may not be the abusive type of Yandere, but he is the proof that sometimes hell can exist without physical violence.

 It’s not easy to say/imagine how Hisoka would be as a dad because, well, c’mon, it’s Hisoka. However, especially in this situation, we can’t say he would change just because he became a dad (especially in his behavior towards you). It’s just not in his nature. And we can’t forget that this child was born from a person who simply does not love him. About that, it’s unclear whether Hisoka would care to keep the whole “yandere” thing hidden from the child (including that he’s keeping you with him by threat/force/whatever). He believes in living life as he wants, so while this may sound sick, he wouldn’t see why this might be problematic. If you decide to pretend to be an actual couple for the sake of the child, Hisoka may agree but he won’t be pleased about it. Remember, he is the sort of yandere that does want you to love him for real.

 While he wouldn’t completely ignore what you have to say about raising the child (at least not completely), Hisoka would probably want to train them soon, imprinting his values and views of the world on them. It wouldn’t be to Illumi’s level, but it would still be pretty dysfunctional. Not that Hisoka would see it like this, as he genuinely believes in his way of life (let’s be honest, the guy isn’t exactly one that cares too much about “good” and “bad”, is he?).

 It's hard to say whether or not Hisoka would be abusive (though it seems unlikely) despite this particular aspect (or at least it wouldn’t be to Illumi’s level), but that doesn’t mean he would be exactly a good dad. He may want to be, but his mental state simply doesn’t allow it. Even if he treats the child well, c’mon, you’re being kept against your will. There is no chance of this being a healthy environment for a child to grow (and the danger of them turning out like Hisoka is beyond scary). Besides, it’s open for debate how much of the affection Hisoka has for the child is genuine and how much is connected to his obsession for you (which would not tone down after the birth).

 If the child is smart, they would not let Hisoka know they don’t agree with him keeping you with him against your will, regardless of his argument that he does love you. Hisoka would at once start to pay attention to their moves, so escaping would be even harder.

 He would be… “Displeased” to see your child trying to help you escape (even more if you two succeed). Yes, he isn’t delusional like Illumi, but it doesn’t mean he accepts the fact that you don’t love him, and having his child helping you (and probably running away with you, if they know what’s good for them) would feel like a betrayal.

 He wouldn’t take that well at all.

 Hisoka would hunt you two down like a hound from hell, making his decision to kill all the Spiders seem like a walk on the beach. There would be no arguments, no talking, no nothing, he would find you. As much as he could be training the child, it wouldn’t be enough for them to win should they try to engage him in a fight. About that, Hisoka might see that the child doesn’t want to be an insane fighter like this, but he secretly believes that he can change that with time.

 It should be noted that Hisoka wouldn’t kill them, but it would pretty much the same it is with you in a sense: He would simply not let the child go and would resort to whatever means are necessary to keep you both with him.

 Chrollo

 Due to his lifestyle and focus on the Phantom Troupe’s goals, Chrollo never gave much thought about having children (then again, he never gave much thought about getting in a relationship and, well, see where this got you).

 Just like he was not moved by pleas or arguments, he won’t listen should you try to convince him to let you go or at least give the child to adoption (better than to be raised by an insane criminal like Chrollo, not that you would tell him that). In fact, Chrollo will be strangely excited about becoming a father. In his mind, this sort of approaches you two more (even if you’re still clear about your rejections). He would hold you close, whisper how much he loves you, that you’re going to be parents… All while ignoring that you never wanted this in the first place. Beneath this veneer of normality, there will always be that frightening tone of someone who is beyond obsessed.

 About that, it should be noted that Chrollo won’t be above using this in his attempts to manipulate you into thinking you’re better off with him and that you would be better off accepting your new life. Your protests would likely be met with a creepy smile as he points out it’s not as if you have any choice in the matter.

 Would he want to put a façade of you two being happily together for the sake of the child? Maybe (at least during their first years)… Chrollo knows you don’t love him and that he is causing you pain, but while he takes no pleasure out of it, he also doesn’t regret it enough to let you go. Does he know what he is doing is wrong? Likely, but he also knows killing people is “wrong” and does it look like he cares? So chances are, he will keep acting as he always does. He won’t bother to tell the child that he is keeping you with him by force, as it’s not something that crosses his mind.

 Once you tell them (or they realize it on their own), Chrollo will have no apologies to offer, nor will he lie or try to manipulate them. Yes, he can pretend to be all innocent and friendly with his prey but it is not the same with his own family. If the child tries to ask him about it, Chrollo will be honest, while feeding them the same arguments you’d expect from a Yandere: He loves mommy a lot, but mommy needs time to accept his love. He always makes sure mommy is happy, so it’s fine. He wouldn’t consciously manipulate his own child into helping him convince you to give in, but it may end up happening anyway.

 Sometimes, “bad” parents try to keep their children away from their world (drug dealers want their children to never touch drugs, so on). It’s not the case with Chrollo. While the Spider will always be a priority, Chrollo would certainly hope his child would grow up to become the “next head” of the group (hell, some of the Troupe’s members might be in favor of that for all we know). Even if they start to reject his teachings, Chrollo would try to get them to see things his way, but it wouldn’t be quite in the way of a father trying to convince his child to become a doctor like him. It’s not that Chrollo would hurt them, but the child might have glimpses of Chrollo’s true nature anyway.

 Once you two escape, Chrollo would do everything in his power to get you back. It doesn’t matter how. He would be worried, yes (imagine what would happen if the Mafia caught you two?), but he would also be angry, revealing the depths of his obsession with you once he has you back. Will he be relieved that you two are “safe”? Yes. But that doesn’t mean he won’t keep you two chained for a while if that’s what it takes.

 Chrollo loves his children, he does, but in the messed up state of Yandere Mode, he would not accept that they don’t want to have anything to do with the Spiders (let alone that they want nothing to do with him). He would not hesitate to keep them prisoners, like he does with you (though this is not the term he would use), trying to convince them to give in and join the Spider (again, what choice do they have?).

[levinneheart]

better

➥ chapter four — ah, fuck it

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After weeks of staying at Lev’s house, you’ve gotten used to him leaving early in the morning and returning late at dawn. Although you were alone, the thought of having someone around brought you comfort but that wasn’t enough to completely stop your inner demons from creeping into your thoughts so you try to drown them by keeping yourself busy, too absorbed in your hobbies and favorite things, and becoming utterly addicted to the point of being obsessive.

⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅⊱◈⊰⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙

You carefully navigate the dark hallway to remind your boyfriend about tomorrow. It wasn’t long until you reached his door, you knocked on the wood before turning the knob and slightly opening the door.

You peeked inside, immediately glancing at his illuminated face that’s glued onto his screen. He noticed you from the corner of his eyes and made a gesture that meant “later”. You frowned slightly but nodded in understanding.

Before you left, you mouthed “don’t forget tomorrow, okay?” to him and in response, he made a shoo-ing motion with his hands. You closed the door and quickly ran back to where you had been sleeping. You were excited for tomorrow.

Excited for your birthday.

Although, he has been rescheduling dates and missing on special occasions quite frequently nowadays. He never had forgotten and never failed to give you a birthday present on your birthday.

What could go wrong? You thought.

Everything. Not only did he forget, he simply brushed it off as if it wasn’t important at all – as if you weren’t important at all like our scheduled dates and never celebrated occasions. And worse of all, he responded with something that you thought he would never have said.

“Fine. Just get yourself a gift with my card, y/n. I’m busy right now so please stop bothering me.” The annoyance in his voice was heard loud and clear and you nodded in response because you understood, you understand that his work is always the top priority.

But little did you know, that was only the beginning of his neglect. The beginning of many, many more disappointments.

But you endured it for almost 3 years because you two promised each other you’ll love one another for better and for worse, because you both planned for the future full of love and happiness, because you love him unconditionally.

However, you were naive. You blindly believed in that dream— that expectation. And like a fool, you made excuses for him. You understood and respected him, and gave everything for this relationship with him. But for what?

⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅⊱◈⊰⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙

You woke up at the sound of pieces of metal clanking and the knob turning, you sat up and rubbed your eyes tiredly. You must’ve fallen asleep in the middle of watching The Shape of Water before looking around to find your phone. 3:00 AM, you blinked at the dim screen before stretching out your arms over your head with a small yawn.

You were greeted by a familiar silver-haired man. “Welcome back.” You said and he responded with a worn down smile before staggering towards the couch and slowly laying on top of you. “You’re heavy.” You groaned as he softly chuckled onto your shoulder.

You sigh as your hand finds its way to his hair and gently caresses it while rubbing his back. He always does this before helping you up from the couch and heading back to your separate rooms. This had been your daily routine with the taller man.

“You okay?” He asks, his voice slightly muffled. He never talks during the cuddle sessions as you dubbed it.

“Yeah.” You answered honestly, “I just realized that I shouldn’t have expected so much from him and I should’ve realized that I was worth so much more than what he had been treating me.”

“At least, you now know that you are worth more than you gave yourself credit for. Because if you didn’t, you would’ve let it slide and you’ll continue to hurt. You are brave, y/n. So brave to finally put your feet down and leave that relationship because many don’t.” He looks up and stares into your glassy (e/c) eyes before warmly smiling. “So please, stop pretending to be put-together. It’s okay to break down because you were so brave, y/n. So brave to love him for this long.”

Ah, fuck it. For once, you let your guard down. The one you build for oh so long during your relationship with him to numb your feelings. For once, you threw away your brave façade. The one you’ve always worn to mask the expressions you’ve replaced with understanding and care. And finally for once, you broke down into ugly sobs as you cling onto Lev for dear life.

He sat up and pulled you onto his lap as you cried your heart out, releasing all your pent up pain and anger onto his steady chest as he rubbed your back gently and held you a bit tighter than earlier.

Ah, fuck it. Fuck all of it.

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a/n: i’m back!! what do you guys think of this chapter? i’m trying to slowly trying to build up the angst from this chapter to the later chapters! but idk if i did it justice with this chapter tho 😅 n e wayz, lemme know what you guys think! as always, feed me w/ feedback, lovelies~ 💖💗💕 kith kith

[alexjcrowley]

Hi! This fanfiction is based on an idea by @idrilearfalas , she wrote the entire concept and the iconic/important lines you'll find in this fanfiction, check out her blog, she is great.

The Pompeii mission, Mobius thought it would have been an easy one. Everybody knows what should happen in Pompeii and it's usually all natural. You just have to make sure someone dies- eh, sorry Plinius- and someone lives.

It's an easy mission, normally, but not when you have to handle a certain norse God of Mischief. One who likes to throw a tantrum on every other occasion.

It's usually nothing more than bantering, playful and witty at its best, sharp and bitter at its worst, but it's something Mobius can handle. He can even enjoy it, when he makes a stupid joke and Loki tells him how stupid it is and they both chuckle. Loki has to learn something new about being a TVA agent and most of the times he makes a fool of himself before getting the thing right, so Mobius can tease him a little and Loki will respond sharp as ever, but with a sort of...endearing note in his stubborness.

Those are good days, days Mobius comes back to his apartment with a smile and when he closes his eyes he can still hear the God's laughter at whatever funny thing happened that day, or replay the moment when they looked into eachothers' eyes and they suddenly understood what to do with the mission, with a single glance.

Today was not a good day. He didn't know the reason. Maybe Loki woke up on the wrong side of the bed, maybe Mobius accidentally made an unpleasant comment, but the norse God started their mission with a pout you could see on the face of a child when they don't get the Christmas present they wanted.

"Oh well" Mobius had thought. Oh well, it's just another bad day, a day in which he had to watch his mouth, because you don't want to deal with an angered God. The general mood was low, the Minutemen looked already tired before the mission had even started and Mobius knew from the moment he passed through the portal he wanted to come back home as soon as possible.

But this wasn't an ordinary bad day. Mobius was prepared to deal with a bit of coldness, with a lack of enthusiasm from everybody, what he wasn't ready to deal with- he didn't want to deal with Loki acting like an asshole.

"And that's it? Really?"

"What did you expect me to say, exactly? You brought me here, you told me I was living a delusion and you gave me no choice other than being your hound. I apologise if I can't think of you as one of my dear friends."

"One of your dear friends? Who would the others be? Just curious, because I have seen your entire life and there is not one person, except maybe Thor, you actually build this strong and trusting relationship with-"

"Wonderful, so why did you expect you'd be the first one I'd decide to grant the gift of my friendship to? I am not even your colleague, I am subjected to this stupid organisation and to you in particular. We are not friends, we forcibly work together and that's it."

Mobius and Loki had been speed walking during the entire discussion, but Loki stopped for a moment.

"You can't fool me, I know very well I am not anything more than your ticket to the Variant. I'll be damned before I put my trust in you, we both know, after all of this has come to an end, nothing will be between me and that resetting stick."

You see, on an ordinary bad day, this would have never happened. On an ordinary bad day, Mobius wouldn't have seen all of his efforts to build a decent relationship with Loki shattered. Was he used to a suspicious Loki? Yes. To a Loki who said that trust is for dogs and children? Also yes. He had been used to that Loki since he first opened up his file. But he had also started being used to Loki's rare moments when he opened up, to his hidden heroic side which desperately seemed to call for attention, to his awkward, genuine reaction when he was showed any form of affection. Mobius had seen Loki spitting his "trust nobody" one liners with less and less convinction everyday, and then they were only mumbled comments to keep up a façade, and then they had become whispers, and then eyes rolls, to the point that Mobius had thought Loki had started warming up on poeple- warming up on him. But he was wrong. Just because Loki didn't voice his dissent, it didn't mean it wasn't there.

It didn't mean he saw Mobius as more than just enemy, even after everything they had been through, even after Mobius took on himself the risk of whatever would have happened to Loki and because of Loki, even after the trust he had shown him, even after the laughters and the lunches and the jokes and the stolen glances- now, look at who was the delusioned one.

Did this upset Mobius? Absolutely. But it also fired him up. Frustration, anger, embarrassment, Mobius erupted with a fiercety matching the volcano explosion just minutes ago.

"Do you really think I would just let them reset you?"

Although shorter than the God, Mobius stood up in front of him looking him in the eyes.

"After all I have done to keep you alive, after all we have been through, do you believe I'd just abandon you to your de-"

"What else would you do? Keep me with you, as your 'friend'? What, you took pity on me and were planning to give me a desk so I can spend the rest of my eternity working for the same people who robbed me of my future?"

"Now stop it, you two, the passage is open, we need to leave" said Hunter B-15, but Loki and Mobius didn't seem to have any intention of listening to her, so she just signed at the rest of the group.

"Come on, hop through it, they'll come when they're ready" she ordered. She waited for the Minutemen to go through the passage, she looked once again at Loki and Mobius and she shook her head, following her collogues back to the TVA. She closed the passage, aware that Mobius could have opened another when he wanted to.

"Just because you are a selfish, uncaring bastard it doesn't mean we all have to be. Is it so difficult for you to accept some people care about you? Like your mother or your brothe-"

"Don't you dare talking about them, you know nothing about them-"

"I literally know everything about them-"

"And stop pretending you care about me or trust me, I am the God of Illusions, I know all your stupid tricks, I used them before-"

Loki and Mobius were shouting very loud, they barely heard the footsetps of someone approaching. A Variant, not the Loki Variant, another one, an enemy of the TVA, probably.

Mobius noticed them in the corner of the eye and turned around fast enough.

Loki was not minimally done with the discussion, but if Mobius was looking away from him, something must have happened.

Loki has been in battles. Battles on Asgards are usually more "traditional" than what you see on Midgard. Sure, they can use magic, but it's mostly swords and axes and arrows and, sometimes, good old-fashioned punches. When he had been on Midgard, Loki had learned war had incredibly evolved. The glorified Midgardian technology changed the face of battles. He had seen a few of the new weapons, nothing that impressive, incomparable to magic. But he remembered them very well, he knew he was not a good idea to underestimate them. So he remembered the sound of a bullet. It was loud, violent, fast. It lasted a few seconds, and then there was silence. If you aim right, your enemy is not just wounded, he's already dead.

They both turned to see the Variant pulling out a gun, and then Loki heard it.

The sound of a bullet.

He shoved Mobius away, before the agent could do anything about it. Mobius heard the sound of a bullet as well, he heard Loki moan in pain and he knew he hadn't been fast enough. But he made up for it pulling out his gun as well, shooting the Variant right in the chest, it only took one bullet to kill him.

Mobius was suddenly grabbed by the arm by a bleeding Loki, who was trying to stand up in vain.

Mobius kneeled next to him, holding him and putting his head on his lap.

Blood. So much blood. The bullet hit the stomach. A normal bullet? You take him to the hospital and chances are he'll be fine. A bullet like that, with a venom release? Kills you in a matter of minutes.

'He is not going to survive' a voice declared in Mobius's head.

He had seen scenes like this too many times to ignore the truth, even if he was desperately trying to. So many missions ending up with corpses, Mobius had witnessed so many deaths like this. It was useless to try and save them, the most merciful act was to immediately reset them to spare them the pain.

But not with Loki. Mobius had already started pressing on the wound, trying to stop the blood.

Useless, all of this was useless.

Loki was uttering verses more than words, normally at this point he would have neen already unconscoius, but the whole being a God must have come with some sort of enhanched healing capacity.

"I am not...ugh, not surviving this?"

"No, no, you are, I just have to take you through the passage-"

"I am...the God of...lies, I know one when I heard...one" Loki coughed.

No, no, no, one thing was seeing Loki dies in a stupid video, another was to witness him dying between his arms, Mobius thought. He couldn't bear this.

Loki looked so scared. He didn't even have the strenght to talk to pretend he was fine with this, he accepted this death. He just looked pained and frightened. He tried to tighten his grip around Mobius's arm, but he couldn't, he was loosing too much blood too fast.

"He looks so young, God, he looks so young" was all Mobius could think. He had seen Loki die, he had seen him a hero, a son of Odin, a troubled man with a controversial life, but this Loki, he was too young. He was just learning what his life could amd couldn't be, he still hadn't make up with Thor or heard his father tell him that he loved him. There was an entire future for him ready to be rewritten, he couldn't die in that moment, he couldn't die on him.

"Aren't you...you tired of watching...me die..."

"You are not dying, Loki, we just have to press on the wound for bit longer, enough for it to stop bleeding, then I'll take you through the passage and-"

"It's always...so pathetic..." Loki coughed again "of a scene..."

Mobius looked around him for another piece of cloth to press on the wound. He had already sacrificed his jacket, but, in absence of anything else, he ripped part of the sleeve of his shirt and pressed it on Loki's stomach. The white cotton was soon impregnated by dark red blood.

"At least...both times...I died for someone I-"

Loki coughed again, exhaling his last breath.

Mobius stopped pressing on the wound. He stared at Loki's corpse in a silent horror.

His body wasn't cold yet, the blood was still flowing, but he was dead. Loki was dead.

Mobius conceided himself a few seconds to fully realize there was nothing left to do. He wanted to scream, but his mouth didn't emit any sound.

His hands still rested on the wound, wet woth blood.

"It should have been you, is that what you're thinking, isn't it?"

Mobius reluctantly teared his gaze off Loki's corpse, to meet the eyes of another God Mischief, one alive and on the run.

Towering over Mobius with his dark cloak, the Dangerous Variant casted a shadow on the two TVA agents. He then kneeled beside Loki's corpse.

Mobius looked at him is disbelief.

"Why are you here?" was all Mobius managed to say.

Why are you here now? Where were you five minutes ago, when Loki was still alive, when you could have done something? How are looking at your own corpse- they were, after all, the same person- without any anger, or surprise or shock?

Mobius wasn't scared of the Dangerous Variant, on the contrary. Although TVA insisted on branding him as this big enemy, he had on several occasions helped him and Loki out, even saved them from some very bad situations. He had never constituted a threat for him or Loki. Sure, he was a mass murderer, but that was kind of a Loki characteristic in general.

"Okay, here's the deal" said the Variant, without looking away from the dead body "You use your...your- ah, what's its name, the- the remote to go back in time, I'll take his place and it's happy ending for everyone. Except for me" he mumbled "but that was mever in the plans, wasn't it" he smiled bitterly, pushing a lock of the dead Loki's hair away from his face.

"What?" Mobius exclaimed.

"Just do as I say" the Variant kept looking down at the corpse "You turn back time, I take the bullet, you two live, I die. It's easy, Mobius."

"How the hell should this be easy?" Mobius shouted, prey to grief and confusion "Why would you do that? What's- what's the meaning of this?"

The Variant had been willing to lend a hand in moments of need, but he was no suicidal.

Finally, the Variant pried his eyes away from his other self and looked at Mobius.

"You asked me once why I was doing what I was doing, remember?" he began.

Mobius slowly nodded.

“Killing TVA officers, trying to destroy the system" the Variant continued "It was just... revenge. Against the TVA. For taking away the thing I cared the most about."

He then looked Mobius in the eye, with a strange intensity, some sort of regret.

"...I was that Loki"

He looked once again at the corpse.

"Then they killed you." he paused.

Mobius didn't say a word, but he kept looking at the Variant astonished.

"And I decided it was time to stray from my written path again. Because nothing else mattered anymore, except making them pay for what they did and making sure what happened to you in my past... did not happen in your present."

The Variant idly run a bony finger over his other's self pale cheek. He then raised his eyes at Mobius.

"I will take his place because he still has you" he then declared "and he still has time to accept" he made a small gesture with his hand, encompassing his dead alter ego and Mobius "whatever you’ve got going on."

Mobius looked at the Variant ever so bewildered, but the Variant simply closed his eyes for a few seconds, looking for the right words.

"He still has time to tell you...all the things I never said." 

The Dangerous Variant was on his knees, teary eyes and a lump in his throat, but he then stood up and cleared his stance. Despire the shaken voice, he proclaimed with all the courage he seemed to own: "I am Loki of Asgard and I am burdened with glorious purpose." He screamed that to no one in particular, or maybe just to himself.

Mobius had been shocked into silence until that moment. Still looking at the Variant, he stood up too, hesitated for a moment then extends his hand to Dangerous Variant. The other one looked at it for a moment, and then firmly grasped it, shaking it.

Mobius was still very confused over what has just happened- what was going to happen.

"Are you sure?" he asked "You...would die. For good. I- I don't think there's a way everybody can get out safe from this- even if you consider time travel and-"

"I know. That's why I am doing it. So that you two get to live, you still has reasons to do it." the Variant said, no hesitation.

"I was right, you know," Mobius said, still reluctant to leave Loki's hand- the moment he did, the Variant would have to die. It was still hard for him to sentence someone to death. But his lips curled into an almost amused smile, even though with a note of sadeness "You're not a villain."

The Variant snorted- oh, Allfather, he had missed Moby's antics- and rolled his eyes, then looked at Mobius again, trying to hide his amusement. You had to have a sense of humour to live his life, Loki thought, there weren't many moments to laugh in his existence, he had to learn to appreciate rare moments like those, when fate graced him with the last sight of the love of his life.

"Turn back the clock, Mobius."

After a slow nod, his hand still in Variant Loki's, Mobius did as he was said.

***

Two days later those events, ut was a good day. In the previous two days, the TVA had finally declared that one of his most wanted Variants was not a problem anymore. Mobius simply stated he had "been cared about", with a hint of sadness nobody cared for. Loki had been quite shocked to witness his death, he had tried to do something for him, but Mobius had looked at him the way he rarely did- with resignation. Nothing left to do. He had offered Loki to spend some time together after the whole thing, to buy him a drink if he needed, to simply listen to him or leave him alone, if he wanted to. It wasn't easy to be a spectator of their own death.

Loki had recovered quicker than Mobius would have thought. Sure, you could still see Loki lost in his train of thoughts when he was left on his own, but he had seen himself die once, he could handle twice.

"Paperwork. To distract you. As a treat." Mobius put on his desk a stack of papers the size of an encyclopedia.

Loki frowned: "And you call this a treat?"

"Well, you can always go help Casey cataloguing the infinity stones, if you like it best" Mobius chuckles.

Loki mindlessly started playing with the Tesseract on his desk- yes, they let him keep it. After all, it was no more than a glowing blue lamp at the TVA.

"Mh, whatever" Loki sighed, picking up a paper, still glaring at Mobius.

"Oh, you have to file these for the end of the day, which gives you around...hmm, something between one and four hours in earth time, I don't remember now. Good luck." Mobius added before starting to walk away.

An irritated "what" that was probably heard in the entire pocket reality of the TVA made him stopped in place. Mobius couldn't help but smile, but he didn't turn around.

"You must be joking! This is- this is unacceptable! What is even supposed to mean between one and four hours? I may have king ambitions but you are the real tyrant!" Loki shouted.

"Oh, Loki" said Mobius, finally turning to face the God "This is very flattering, but I am no more than a mere bureaucrat."

"Yes, and the worst kind." the other replied. He then looked around him, noticing that everybody has stopped whatever they were doing to listen to his shoutings. With a faint flush on his face, Loki sat back in his chair, just after glancing at the whole room and snarling a "What are you looking at?"

He then looked back at Mobius, sighing a "I hate you so much".

Mobius simply smiles.

"Sure you do, kitten."

I am sorry for the spelling mistakes, I tend to make a lot of them and also I am not a native english speaker, so I hope I everything I wrote makes sense.