#that and angrily calling you by your surname are all i have as far as claws go

[ladyyatexel]

I Went On A Manga Binge

So you don't have to

For those of you who have wisely avoided the shreds of it I've left around the blog thus-far, I had some weird notion to go re-experience Yu-Gi-Oh uuuuuh a week ago? We'll go with that. Time is meaningless.

I'd been able to read a good portion of the early manga at the end of highschool, and somewhere in my stacks and stacks of paper is fanart from this dark time, so you know I cared. I also still own a Dark Magician action figure somehow, so. I'd also watched a large portion of the anime with my brother because it had been laced with some kind of crack and we couldn't look away? I remember when we both were just like shit, wait, don't change the channel, I can't stop looking at it. And the next thing we knew we were waiting for new episodes and I was doing research on the Japanese original because I was that kid.

Anyway, unnecessary backstory out of the way, here are some... let's call them Observations and Consequences of having read somewhere in the neighborhood of 300 chapters (and growing) of a manga primarily hinged on card games from a spectrum of sources ranging from boringly lawful to sketchy as fuck.

Surprise actual character that develops in typical shounen fashion being Jounouchi. My limited experiences with the 4Kids dub and only early manga had not painted him in a particularly good light. I don't know if episodes were being aired out of order or if I had just missed the ones that established that he was making shit up as he was going along, but Wow I liked him a lot more going through the manga than I ever did watching the (dubbed, heavily edited and censored and thrown into a slurry machine) anime. I'd managed to come out with the impression that he was just as reasonably experienced with the game as Yugi back in the day. Wild.

I'm now reading every single comic-style post on Tumblr backwards.

Striking inverse to first point, wow, I don't like Seto Kaiba. Though he gets points for his general philosophy of the future, and the line I read in my sketchy online combo of scans and scanlations in which he said, "If God is in your way, you run him down," was Metal As Fuck. I somewhat shame-facedly admit to enjoying him a lot more as an Abridged Series character. (I watched Abridged as it came out back in the day! The experience of watching the anime with my brother had been so fresh that I got all the in jokes about the way things were edited and dubbed, it was great. Series remains influential part of my life to this day, which is hella weird.)

I almost understand how Duel Monsters works now. I don't want this.

That said, wow a lot of the decisions made in the anime made everything a lot more ridiculous than the admittedly already ridiculous original. I got the distinct feeling in the manga that the Duelist Kingdom stuff we were seeing was designed to be used and exploited in ways that don't make sense in an actual cardgame just played on a table like a normal person and this was part of testing everyone to think higher, differently. Maybe this is obvious to everyone already, I don't know. I had always liked that it was very, 'Not so fast, I'm going to blow up the moon to change the tides,' but I'm not really sure the anime gave enough explanation that this was an extra layer added to things for that event? You can see people actively getting used to it in the books, and people who aren't considering the real or 3D nature of it getting owned, but my memory of anime version is everyone just like, 'oh, shucks, fuck me, I forgot to consider the phase of the moon before i played this card, can't believe I forgot.' No one calls Yugi on any of this stuff because it's valid play in that situation. Plus Yami Yugi had mad trickster energy in the beginning and it suited him to think of ways to do things inside these little simulation boxes the way it suited him to set perverts on fire. I imagine the real card game trying to emulate this element as something that would be to its detriment, but I neither know nor particular care haha

Ryou Bakura.

Really, though. I think he became kind of casualty of 'wow, we have a lot of characters who really aren't able to do anything in this story anymore,' despite the fact that his whole inner life could have been as interesting as Yugi's. I always like thinking about the possibilities of stories in which main character falls into magical world and is given magical item and told they're the hero and then they find out they've been the bad guy the whole time. The first several volumes of manga were about the quiet weirdo kid that no one talked to who was always blacking out and turning into a fucked up version of himsef because he was so attached to his ancient Egyptian jewelry, so like, Bakura could have much the same shit going on. I want to know what's happening with him so much. He clearly doesn't love being possessed, but he's also so drawn to the ring. Despite it having stabbed him at least twice and him knowing it's a danger to him and his friends, he keeps being pulled back into it. You see so much more of him being like, 'Oooh, a creepy thing, I love that! :D' in the manga than ever in the anime, which I'm all about. Also more blood. I'm very about that as well. Though my memory of the anime also made it look very much like normal regular daily Bakura was just a weird facade in places before he ever would have been. I think that was it trying to compensate for what people didn't see from the Toei anime, but okay whatever, that I love everything about this guy is not news, I don't need to talk about Bakura excessively here, I'm pretty sure that's gonna show up on my blog by itself

On a related note though, damn, more of these people need to talk to each other. Can we have some existential crisis support clubs or something. Can we get like some apologies or something? "I respect you as a duelist." "Cool, but you literally built a tower designed to specifically assassinate me and my friends? You were supposed to get Better after I retaliated by putting you in a coma, but you kinda didn't." "Why would the coma have made it better" "I just told you it didn't" ---- "Sorry I went along with the plan of your evil parasite stabbing you, misled you, and then also jumped in and took up some real estate in your head too." "I understand, I also have an evil thing inside me that does things while I'm blacked out." "...no, I was conscious for all of that." "Oh." "..." "..." "..." "Do you like Ouija Boards?" "sure okay" ETC. Like damn we are reading shounen manga because no one is talking extensively about their feelings here and I'm tapping my foot angrily.

Holy shit there are so many mythologies happening at once. The ancient family guarding the Egyptian Pharaoh has a surname that's a Mesopotamian goddess. None of the god cards make any Egyptian sense except Ra, and just like. Baaarrrrely. Somewhere either Evil Ring Bakura or Mar/lik makes a reference to cremation and spirits being taken to heaven with smoke which several things, but definitely not Ancient Egyptian. Marik/Malik meanwhile is clearly trying to head Arabic, along with Rishid, but then, hey, our sister is just Isis. Goddess McGoddess. Sometimes they're the same goddess! Her name could be Isis Isis or Ishtar Ishtar. Meanwhile, all the obviously 'occult because Christians think it is freaky' stuff. ~ancient egyptian pentagrams~~~This isn't a complaint, I guess so much as a 'Wow, I can kind of see the cultural spot the author was coming from and where he was aiming' kind of thing.

Wonder where things would have gone if the card games had not been latched onto the way they were.

Managed to forget how gross the pre-cardgames stuff was on the sexual harassment front. I'm glad there was a sort of explanation of everyone drifting away from being dick heads and that that decision was made. It got way more comfortable to read after no one was bringing Yugi p*rn on VHS.

Yugi looks better with a nose, glad we got that upgrade.

Interesting to watch the series style shift as it goes away from being horror to being over the top cardgames and friendship (with blood!). The first picture of Mokuba is fucking Jarring. Also noticed that the nicer a character is, the less their teeth are defined.

Glad manga did not go as completely off the fucking the rails about Marik's face. I never got as far as seeing him back in the day because college occurred, but I remember seeing pictures and stuff and being like, "what in the Fuck happened to that dude, I think the house style has collapsed in on itself"

Things the author Really Likes: motorcycles, belts, SHOES, holy shit the shoes. These are some of the most lovingly rendered sneakers I've ever seen. All the detail on his characters goes straight to their feet and then it's stretched upward until it forms stiff peaks. Gently fold in 3000 years of trauma and bake face down in a crumb coat of scattered mythology. Remove when you roll two zeros.

Where the fuck am I going to put the extremely large omnibus volumes of this comic I purchased in order to balance out how much I would be reading for free on the internet. I should have grasped that a three in one edition would be Thick and yet somehow I was still :O when it arrived. Have I strategically purchased volumes that contain my favorite parts, maybe, what's it to you will i eventually get the whole thing because incomplete book series gnaw on my soul? yes

Wish the transition from "I've murdered several people in delightfully karmic ways" to "all you need is friendship in your heart and cards in your hand" Yami Yugi/Pharaoh had been discussed more/transitioned better. Buddy, where did you get this approved for television high horse? Please go back to strangling people with yo-yos or at least tell me why you stopped.

I still can't tell anything that looks like a big robotic monster apart from any other big robotic monster. My dude, I can't tell cars apart, all these monsters look the same.

Yami Yugi fascinated me way more in highschool? Maybe because it was still super early and the anime was like 'we need to torture you about his origins WeEkLy. Now I'm just like 'wait hold on, can we go back to Bakura and Marik for a minute, there's some extreme unpacking to do here?' Those two are paying so much more in baggage fees here my guy wow

Violently uninterested in any of the spinoff media

[tartagilicious]

[CN] victor’s double seventh/qixi date (eng)

this translation was a whole trip mythological aus are the best 😭 for this date, because his name is important to the plot, I decided to keep it as his CN name, Li Zeyan!

all of the qixi translations this year were divided up by a small group of translators, and you can find them on their blogs: @cheri-translates​ did Gavin’s, @redqueenschoice​ did Shaw’s and Lucien’s (though they’re available on Cheri’s blog), @skyholders​ did Kiro’s, and of course, I did Victor’s!

— 

Soldier A: Where did you go?

Soldier B: There is no other way, they must have run into the woods!

Officer A: Chase them!

The voices of the officers and soldiers faded away. I slowly rose from the riverbank and made sure there was no one around. Finally, after a while passed, I stood up straight and took a few deep breaths.

Gripping the peach wood sword in one hand, I carefully picked up my skirt and prepared to step ashore.

??: who are you?

MC: !

As soon as I was about to act, my arm was suddenly pulled tightly, and the sword in my hand almost fell.

I turned my head to see a man behind me squinting at me, and his expression became even more gloomy when he saw my sword. With horns on top of his head, and a tail behind him trailing up to my legs, he seemed to want to impede my actions…

??: This sword…

MC: D-Demon!

I yelled desperately to avoid him, but he was too strong, my attempts ultimately having no effect.

Soldier B: I heard her voice! Over there!

Hearing the voices of officers and soldiers coming from the fork of the mountain road, me and the “Youkai” in front of me were both stunned.

[youkai (妖怪) are a class of supernatural monsters in japanese folklore, and the term doesn’t translate to anything directly, but traditionally means demon or spirit]

I was suddenly reminded of the importance of keeping the peach sword. I didn’t know where I borrowed the strength from, but I broke free of his shackles and forced him back into the water.

MC: Demon, since you haven’t had time to eat me, I won't involve you… so, you hide here, I have to go first!

I picked up my skirt to run once again, but the soaked clothes had since become heavier, and I almost couldn’t even stand firm when I left the river. A very light sigh seemed to be heard behind me, and I was pulled back into the water by force, my back pressing against a warm chest.

MC: you--

“Youkai” ignored me, just casually glancing at the soldiers and officers passing by. I followed his gaze and saw that the vines on the edge of the cliff moved by themselves, entangling the ankles of the officers and soldiers and throwing them back onto the mountain road.

MC: You… be merciful. They are annoying, but not deserving of death.

??: They are not qualified to be killed by me.

As soon as the voice fell, the several officers and soldiers got up and stumbled away. I had just breathed a sigh of relief when the “Youkai” behind me refocused on me.

??: What crime did you commit?

MC: I didn’t commit any crime! I only got my belonging back, it’s those people who are wrong.

I hugged the sword in my arms angrily, and noticing his gaze on me, I immediately regained my bearings.

MC: well… thank you for helping me just now, but can you please not eat me?

??: Didn’t you dare to push me into the water?

He pointed to the peach wood sword in my arms.

??: Is that what opens the barrier?

Barrier?

I looked down thoughtfully. I once heard my father say that there is a kind of barrier that can seal away monsters, and only a peach wood sword stained with one’s blood can break open the entrance. Since more than ten years ago, outside the barrier is no longer home to monsters, but--

MC: could it be that you are… the Guardian Saint Black Dragon?

MC: it’s really a dragon horn… the scales on your tail are so shiny! And wow.. Your clothes are satin. Did you make it yourself?

[stop it mc you’re embarrassing the both of us ;;]

Black Dragon: …

I didn’t expect that I would meet the Guardian saint, and my curiosity was overwhelming, so I forgot how fierce he was just now. Just when I wanted to study his hair again, he suddenly grabbed my hand and pressed me firmly into the shore.

Black Dragon: Have you touched enough?

MC: um…

Black Dragon: You are also a criminal..

I caught his dangerous gaze and swallowed nervously. His gaze moved down my face and finally stopped on the peach wood sword.

Black Dragon: Open the barrier again.

MC: What?

Black Dragon: Open it, and I can count it as you making up for just now.

I don’t know what the consequences of letting the Guardian saint leave without authorisation is, but I still obey what I feel in my heart and nod in agreement. The Black Dragon released his hold on me, but he kept his eyes on me as I walked away, as if he didn’t trust me to honour my promise.

MC: Lord Guardian, do you dislike humans?

Black Dragon: I just don’t trust them.

MC: hmm…. Humans can be very cunning. Someone did you a favour today, and you may be asked to return the favour later.

Black Dragon: ...What do you want to say?

I watched his expression and carefully considered my words.

MC: Now that I’ve promised to open the barrier, I will not break that promise. But, you’ve also seen the situation just now. If I go back like this, I definitely will not be able to keep this sword.

Black Dragon: Is it important to you?

MC: Yeah… My family has been slaying monsters for generations, and this sword is our heirloom. A while ago, the owner of the Jianzhu Workshop stole it. I took it back, but it seems that I’ll have to hide in the future.

Black Dragon: You come from a family that eliminates monsters, so why are you still afraid of them?

I recalled the exaggerated reaction just now, and chuckled embarrassedly.  

MC: Because in the ten years since you were locked away, the world has been very peaceful. We have become accustomed to a world without monsters.

MC: Suddenly seeing someone that’s so different from me, of course I’ll be shocked…

The Black Dragon raised his eyebrows without further comment.

MC: Why don’t we make an exchange! I will help you open the barrier, and you will help me settle the situation. This must not be difficult for you.

Black Dragon: This is the “favour” you want me to pay back?

MC: Yes. I will set the conditions right now as to raise the value in the future. This is an exchange where you can make profit without losing anything.

The Black Dragon was silent for a while, and finally nodded gently

Black Dragon: I can help you, but you must protect important things in the future. Additionally, I won’t help you a second time.

MC: I will! Thank you, Guardian Lord!

I took him down the path and into the city, brainstorming how to have him move around the city without obstacles.

MC: By the way, when we go into town, is it possible that you can hide the horns and tail?

Black Dragon: I can.

He lowered his eyes and blinked, and the dragon horns and tails disappeared.

MC: Ok…. I still need to know your name.

Black Dragon: You do not need to know.

MC: Then, how do you expect me to call you in the city? Are you still called the Guardian Saint?

Black Dragon: That’s not possible.

MC: Lord Black Dragon? Lord?

He frowned and stared at me, not seeming to like my options. I racked my brain to think of more titles, and he sighed, seeming to have come to a decision.

Black Dragon: My surname is Li.

--

In order to avoid the officers and soldiers who might reappear at any time, we were cautious all the way before finally returning home along the right path. However, just as I opened the door, the voice I didn’t want to hear sounded from behind me.

??: Yo, isn’t this that little robber? I didn’t expect to run into people not yet caught by the government today.

The owner of Jianzhu Workshop actually had a group of people wait by my house! I hurriedly hid the peach wood sword behind my back, and stepped forward to block the Black Dragon.

MC: You stole my things, and are so embarrassed that you want the government to arrest me?

Boss: No one saw me steal your things, but many people saw you steal things from my store. What are you going to do?

Most of the people behind him responded and began to surround me. I’m suddenly nervous and at a loss. But, then I see the Black Dragon standing beside me with his arms lifted slightly.

Those who came close seemed to hit an invisible wall, bumping one by one and falling backwards. No matter how many times they tried, they didn’t make any ground.

Boss: T-This is magic! You are monsters!

The group of people looked on at us in horror and kept backing away. The boss ushered them away disdainfully and drew his sword.

Boss: You turned out to have a monster as a helper, but don’t think that this will scare me!

After speaking, he flew forward and leaped, with the sharp tip of his sword barreling straight towards my face. I subconsciously closed my eyes, but the coolness of metal breaking through air did not come as expected.

I hesitated for a moment before slowly opening my eyes, and saw that the boss’s figure was stagnated in the air, and the tip of his sword had stopped less than three inches from my face. In the next second, he also bounced far away like his men had before him, and the sword fell on the ground with a crisp clang.

Boss: What kind of monster is this… cough cough… it’s so powerful.

I secretly glanced at the Black Dragon next to me. He still stood there quietly, as if he hadn’t paid attention to the scene just now.

The boss reluctantly stood up with his sword and walked towards us, but stopped halfway obediently under the gaze of the Black Dragon.

Boss: I can’t beat you anyway, so let’s be honest with each other. I want that sword to conquer the Black Dragon. You should have heard that legend, right? The peach wood sword that has eliminated a demon -- as long as it’s stained with the blood of the Guardian Saint, he will surrender to me.

Boss: Now that the sword is in your hands, as long as you agree to cooperate with me, I can give you a share of the reward as compensation.

MC: It’s too vain to do that!

Boss: Mankind has been eliminating demons for many years, isn’t this point of return justified?

The surrounding temperature seemed to drop suddenly, and I held my sword tighter.

MC: Don’t even think about it. Xiao Li, don’t listen to his nonsense. Let’s tie him up and send him to the government!

I yelled this with a strong momentum, but the fingers hidden under my sleeve secretly hooked onto the Black Dragon’s hand and shook, hoping that he would not mind the disrespectful name. He glanced at me unhappily, but still moved his fingers, making the owner unable to escape.

Seeing some onlookers appeared nearby, I pulled the Black Dragon back, wanting to end this farce as soon as possible.

MC: Everyone is watching. If you still want to keep the Jianzhu Workshop in business, you should move on quickly and forget the ideas you shouldn’t have.

Boss: ….

MC: If you don’t speak, I’ll assume that you agree.

Black Dragon: He is speechless now.

I was stunned for a moment, looking at the flushing boss. But I looked at the Black Dragon and suddenly understood. So, I cleared my throat and deliberately amplified the sound.

MC: Now that you’ve realised your mistakes, go to the government and confess your guilt honestly. As long as you are willing to tell the truth this time, I will not care too much. I believe that the government will give us a fair verdict.

--

After testifying with the government, I locked the door of my house and lit a fire in the corner of the yard. Since the Black Dragon was trapped behind the barrier here, many legends that do not tell the truth have emerged, gradually ranging from spreading his divine power to how to conquer him.

Many seniors believed that the peach wood sword would be abused by people with ulterior motives, so they wanted to destroy the sword. But, it used to be a glory in the family and it was a relic of my father’s. I have always cherished it very much and am not willing to destroy it.  

Until now, I have not really realised how disturbing its existence is.

The wooden sword was thrown into the flame, and the flame seemed to have received my worry, and quickly rose to swallow it. I waited until the flame went out and I doused the embers before returning to the house.

The Black Dragon was not there, and the window facing the black dragon was open. I hurried to the window and heard a little noise coming from the pond.

As soon as I slipped out, I saw the Black Dragon immersed in the pond water, seeming to be examining his own strength. The water around him seemed to diverge and gather, but only for a moment before it suddenly fell back into the pool, revealing his figure. He leaned casually on the bank, his slender fingers outstretched slightly.

The falling flowers on the water floated back onto the shore, embossed under the roots of the trees. The hanging water curtain not far away turned into layers of mist with his simple instruction, and fell onto the other branches with a crisp rustling noise.

For a while, I so surprised that I could hear nothing but the beating of my own heart in my chest.

This is… the strength that has always protected us.

In some kind of broad tenderness, this casual moment silenced the whole world.

He has a small wound on his body that is slowly bleeding, but he doesn’t seem to care. At this time, he had long faded away from his initial vigilance and suspicion, as if he had just found a comfortable place to nurse his fatigue.

Looking at this scene, I suddenly thought that if I had looked at his eyes more when we first met, I definitely wouldn’t have misunderstood his identity. Such a clear and quiet gaze could only belong to a truly powerful being.

Black Dragon: Don’t hide, come out.

MC: Sorry, I didn’t mean to peek on purpose… I thought you were gone.

Black Dragon: I am indeed ready to leave.

Hearing him say this, I felt a little reluctant.

Black Dragon: But I still have a question for you.

MC: What’s the problem?

Black Dragon: Why did you reject that person just now?

I was stunned for a moment, and then realised what he was referring to.

MC: ...The person stealing other people’s things is not credible, and I’m not interested in the conditions he offered. What’s more, is that the sword in my family has been used for generations to eliminate evil, and it cannot hurt a Guardian Saint who brings peace.

I couldn’t help but glance at his wound, and found a handkerchief in my pocket and handed it over.

MC: Why are you hurt?

He turned away slightly, his expression a little unnatural.

Black Dragon: The yard is too small and there are too many trees.

I looked at the small branches scattered around the pond and smirked internally. Naturally, this place can’t be compared with the vast forest. He obviously hasn’t adapted to the new area yet.

MC: Your blood seems to be very important, so wait for me to help you bandage it.

The Black Dragon looked at me, smiled lightly, and grabbed my wrist.

Black Dragon: The legend of the peach sword is false.

MC: What?

Black Dragon: Do you really want to hear more about it?

Looking into his smiling eyes, I almost lost my consciousness and nodded subconsciously. With a little force in his hand, he drew me closer, and the low voice sounded through my ears.

Black Dragon: The conditions that make me surrender never come from other things.

Black Dragon: You asked my name before. Do you know its true meaning?

--

Black Dragon: No way.

MC: I’m really fine!

Black Dragon: If I say no, it means no.

MC: But there is no other way. You’re a guest and a noble Guardian saint, I can't possibly let you sleep on the ground, right?

Black Dragon: …

Considering that the Guardian Saint was injured in my home, I warmly invited him to stay overnight, and he gave me the chance “to make up for the past”. I had taken the initiative to bandage the wound and make dinner for him, but after a smooth night, I suddenly hit a wall in sleeping.

I forgot that my cabin has limited space and only one bed. So, I was going to sleep on the floor, but he didn’t allow it. I had forgotten about the possibility of sleeping in the same bed, so, after thinking about it, I carried the quilt on the ground onto the bed.

Ignoring his surprised gaze, I first climbed into the innermost side of the bed, turned my back to him and patted the empty space behind me.

MC: If nothing else, I sleep very soundly!

I eavesdropped on the man behind me, and after a long silence, I finally heard the sound of the quilt being lifted once again.

The night was still deep, but we laid still for a long time. I still couldn’t sleep. Though, I still remember what he said to me by the pond--

Black Dragon: Names are a curse.

MC: Lord Guardian, are you asleep?

Black Dragon: ...Not yet.

MC: I have a question. Since the name is a kind of curse, many people usually call me, so why didn’t I feel it?

Black Dragon: Because you are all ordinary people.

MC: Is that right…

My curiosity flared up again.

MC: Lord Guardian, my name is ___. Since I am called ordinary, can I ask the unusual Guardian saint to recite it?

I waited for a long time, and the person behind me didn’t respond, as if he didn’t want to acknowledge my whim. I was beginning to grow restless, so I tightened the quilt corner and leaned against the bed.

Black Dragon: Li Zeyan.

MC: ...What?

Li Zeyan: My name. Go to bed now and you’ll still remember it.

MC: !

MC: Did you really just tell me that? Is it okay to?

Li Zeyan: ...If you dare not accept it, I can make you forget now.

MC: Wait, wait! I accept! But, if this isn’t a mantra, does it matter if i recite it?

Li Zeyan: You can give it a try.

MC: ..Li Zeyan

Li Zeyan: Good.

Li Zeyan responded reluctantly and put out the candle. I waited for a while, and it was quiet behind me, as if nothing happened. I’ve been so overwhelmed by the excitement of knowing his name that even in the dark, I'm not willing to close my eyes.

MC: Li Zeyan?

My answer was another stretch of silence.

I grabbed the quilt, and an uncontrollable impulse that could no longer be subdued was relieved through the curling of my lips. So, my brain began whirring and three words suddenly came out.

[she says three words because Victor’s chinese name, Li Zeyan, is characterised like this: 李泽言]

MC: Li Zeyan.

As soon as I was finished speaking, I felt that the bed next to me suddenly sank, my shoulder was caught, and I was pulled over. Before I could even utter an exclamation, I met Li Zeyan’s close face.

Li Zeyan: What are you trying to do?

It seems that every time I get close to him, I can’t think, I can only let the thoughts in my head slip to my lips.

MC: I just think your name sounds nice. I wanted to say again.

Li Zeyan seemed to be taken aback, and his hand holding me loosened.

Li Zeyan: Have you said it enough now? Shut up and sleep when you’ve had enough.

MC: But, I still want to hear you say my name. You know, everything must be exchanged in the human world, and I will sleep only when you say it.

Li Zeyan had probably never heard of such a request before and stopped talking, seeming to be judging if I was joking or not. Seeing that I still met his gaze firmly, he spoke word from word after all.

Li Zeyan: ___.

MC: !

I immediately covered my face, detached from his arm, and retreated to the other side of the bed.

MC: I-I promise to stop talking! I’ll sleep now!

Li Zeyan: ……

However, even when the room was quiet again, my noisy heartbeat did not calm down. Is this the so-called “curse”? This curse is really powerful. No no, it’s the “unusual” Guardian saint that is the most powerful.

I sigh quietly. It seems that I won’t be able to sleep tonight.

The next day, I woke up amidst a strange noise. I opened the window and looked out at the situation on the street. After recalling the day, I remembered that the Qixi festival has arrived.

I turned my head and looked at the other side of the bed: it was empty.

I quickly cleaned myself up and opened the door. I saw Li Zeyan leaning against the door and looking in the direction of the main street.

MC: Good morning.... Li Zeyan.

Li Zeyan glanced at me, and nodded stiffly to communicate a response.

Li Zeyan: Why is it so noisy outside?

I looked at the hint of curiosity in his eyes and suggested with a smile.

MC: If you’re interested, do you wanna go out with me?

The Qixi Festival has always been the most lively summer festival. Stalls have been set up early on the main street to sell all kinds of novel and interesting gadgets. I chose a booth at random and took him over to see it.

MC: Look, it’s a black dragon puppet!

The puppet was dressed in a colorful cloak, and the dragon’s horns and tail were swollen with cotton. I snuck a look at Li Zeyan, and he immediately frowned in disgust.

Li Zeyan: Too exaggerated. There’s no need to look like that.

MC: But it looks so cute!

Li Zeyan: ...Do you like it?

I was thinking about how to respond to the Guardian saint’s question, when the stall owner leaned over with a smile.

Stall Owner: The girl has a good eye! I bought this black dragon puppet from a temple of incense. Buying it back will surely protect both of you. For today’s holiday, if you each buy one, the price is discounted! Son, what do you think?

Li Zeyan: I don’t need it.

I took a peek at him, smiled and put down the puppet, then raised my arm and shook it indifferently.

MC: I don’t need it either. 

I have been favoured by fate, so I can at least leave the puppets to others.

I don’t know if it’s my illusion, but Li Zeyan seemed to slow down and walk with me patiently. I guess he must have rarely had such a talkative moment during the long years he spent in the forest.

I secretly made up my mind to take him today to experience the “world fireworks”.

[it was never explicitly stated, but I’m guessing that this refers to the tradition of kongming lanterns mentioned soon.]

In the long main streets, through countless shops and stalls, we stop and try our best to spend this special day seriously. I imagined the Guardian saint who was aloof, but I was so entranced that I didn’t even dare blink my eyes, and together we studied the mysteries of the street performers

He still occasionally resents helplessness, but unexpectedly does not refuse assistance. Perhaps because of the smoke and fire, I almost forgot his original identity.

Time passed by, and the end of the main street was already in front of me. A small river transverses, and there are already many people piercing Kongming lanterns on both sides of the river

Li Zeyan: What’s the purpose of this?

MC: It’s a paper lantern to make wishes on. It rises into the sky after you light the inside of it. People write their wishes on the lamps, and the gods in sky will see it and may even help realise it. 

Li Zeyan: How can there be such a thing?

MC: Today is the Qixi Festival, you can’t say such things! If it’s heard by the seventh sister in the sky, it will be bad.

Li Zeyan: ...what wishes do you generally make?

MC: On the Qixi Festival, everyone will wish for a good hand or a good marriage.

Li Zeyan: what about you?

MC: I…

I looked at a few pairs of lovers not too far away, and silently lowered my head. If you desire too much, than what’s the difference between me and those who want to imprison the Guardian saint?

But, perceiving Li Zeyan’s gaze on me, I cheered up and decided to answer the question in another way.

MC: Right, tonight, I want to see the stars, so I’ll take you to a good place to see them!

The pavilion at the foot of the mountain is part of a summer resort that I accidentally discovered when I was young. Now that the area is kept dense, the water is as clear as a mirror. The mountain breeze in the evening is very cool, blowing away all the heat of the day.

Li Zeyan leaned in the pavilion, looking at the distance with a relaxed expression.

MC: Is the Guardian Saint satisfied with this place?

Li Zeyan: well, it’s not bad.

MC: No one else will come here, so you can relax.

Li Zeyan seemed to have seen through the words as I was expecting, and showed a pair of beautiful dragon horns and a tail.

MC: I wanted to say it the first time I saw you, but, you’re really good looking.

Li Zeyan: In your imagination, was I ugly?

MC: Um… I was only expecting you to be more fierce.

Li Zeyan: And i did not expect that the one to open the barrier would be a reckless “bandit”.

I turned my head angrily, but I saw the smile at the corner of his mouth at a glance, and the feeling of dissatisfaction disappeared immediately.

I handed Li Zeyan a small purse I'd been holding in my arms.

MC: Just in case, I decided to prepare you something.

Li Zeyan took it and opened it, holding up a small peach wood sword pendant.

MC: Even though it’s small, it has the same effect as the original sword!

Li Zeyan: ...Didn’t you burn the sword?

MC: I secretly broke off a piece of the hilt of the sword, I think my father would not mind. But, if you ever encounter the barrier in the future, you can walk out by yourself.

Li Zeyan: “Self?” Where are you going?

MC: You definitely don’t want to stay in this world, do you? I couldn’t even go to heaven with you.

Li Zeyan: You don’t have to go so far. The freedom I want has nothing to do with where I am.

MC: But, you said yesterday that you were ready to leave… Are you going to another town?

Li Zeyan looked at the pendant and pondered a moment before speaking.

Li Zeyan: The forest is very large… but it’s not as good as a small yard.

Li Zeyan: No matter whether it is man or a god, there are no taboos, but it depends on whether that restriction is actively being accepted by itself. The spell of that name is a lock, and only those who know it can open it.

Li Zeyan: Just now, I've put the lock and key into your hands. So, I must keep you by my side.

I stared at him with a serious look, and it took a long time to find my voice.

MC: My home is so small... You will either get hurt or you will not sleep well...

MC:  I can’t accompany you to heaven, but I can go with you anywhere else in the world. Because you know my name, I also want to keep you by my side.

He laughed at me, hooked his finger at me, and I leaned in faintly.

Li Zeyan: In this case, I’ll leave this on you.

With warm fingertips around my neck, he put the pendant on me. I stretched out my hand to caress the small pendant, and my heart was filled with wonder. I have no supernatural power, nor have I learned to kill demons and eliminate evil. Only this little peach wood sword and myself, who keeps the secret, will become his keys together.

I pulled out a comb from the side drawer and handed it to him.

MC: According to human rules, to make such an important agreement, you have to help me comb my hair.

Li Zeyan hesitated and took the comb suspiciously.

Li Zeyan: I have never brushed anyone’s hair before…

MC: You will live in this world in the future, so you can learn more.

Li Zeyan: Why are there so many rules?

MC: This is how humans are.

In order to reduce the difficulty, I took the initiative to lift up a strand of hair

MC: Comb this strand, and it will be done after three times.

Li Zeyan: Why?

I held back my smile and tried to find excuses for my careful thinking.

MC: Hmm… Because this way, the agreement will last longer.

A helpless sigh was heard from behind me, but he still continued. The movements were very slow and light, and he took care to not hurt me at all. Time seemed to stop in this moment, and at the same time, lovers of heaven and earth meet.

I leaned on his lap and peaked at the reflection in the water: he’s clearly smiling.

As the night darkened, a Kongming lantern suddenly floated in the distance. Orange lights gradually revealed themselves in the night sky, like stars symbolising wishes.

MC: What a nice view...

Li Zeyan retracted his eyes from the sky and looked at me.

Li Zeyan: I remember that you haven’t said your wish.

I stroked his hand holding the comb and combed the hair to the bottom with him.

“Three combs to the end, will tie two hearts together forever.”

The night breeze is cool, bringing the wishes of the world to the sky. And there is still a wish, turning into a quiet whisper before falling into someone’s ear. The person who receives this wish is my destination.

[a-blue-secret]

CHAPTER XVIII

BACK TO MASTERLIST

Chapter XVII | Chapter XVIII | Chapter XIX

GENRES: royal au; fantasy au; magic au; friends-to-enemies-to-lovers; king!beomgyu, vizier!taehyun

PAIRING: taegyu

WARNINGS: swearing, slight homophobia and transphobia

WORD COUNT: 5.3k+

AN: So! If you thought that the last chapter was a rollercoaster ride, then you'd better sit down for this one. I spent ages on this chapter, and I have to say I'm really happy with how it turned out. Enjoy!

SUMMARY: Best friends turned enemies, Kang Taehyun has managed to trick Choi Beomgyu into his service, and to rule for a year and a day, until his youngest brother would be old enough to take the throne. Choi Beomgyu has no intention of being obedient however, and tries to thwart Taehyun’s orders at every turn. With a growing amount of distrust and lies within the court, will Taehyun manage to keep the kingdom of Gojongja from falling apart?

"Stop being such a fucking coward," Taehyun whispered, voice shaking. With either anger or unbearable sadness, neither were sure.

Beomgyu closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, there was a look of resignation within them. He raised his sword. "Brains before beauty," he said, and Taehyun did not hesitate.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Taehyun lunged and thrust out his sword with such force that Beomgyu had to whirl out of the way at the last minute.

Surprised at the vicious attack, Beomgyu gave a startled laugh. “You hate me that much, huh?”

Taehyun didn’t answer, and advanced upon Beomgyu, slashing his sword ferociously. Beomgyu staggered back, deflecting Taehyun’s attacks with his sword.

“Why are you doing this, Taehyun? Do you really hate me?”

Taehyun gritted his teeth. Truth be told, he had no idea now. He thought he did, because what else could this intense emotion inside him be?

He could see Beomgyu open his mouth again, probably to tell Taehyun to stop, but he didn’t want to hear Beomgyu at that moment, so he spoke first.

“Of course I hate you, idiot! Why else would I betray you so much?” He punctuated the statement with a fierce lunge, as if to prove he really did hate Beomgyu. He didn’t know who he was proving it to, and he didn’t even know if it was working.

Beomgyu couldn’t answer, too busy fending off Taehyun’s attacks. Taehyun suspected that Beomgyu wasn’t really trying. As the son of a swordmaster, Beomgyu’s skills ought to have rivalled that of the former prince’s, but his play was infuriatingly ordinary. It was almost like he wasn’t trying… as if he didn’t want to hurt Taehyun. For some reason, the thought made Taehyun angrier, and he attacked Beomgyu harder and faster. But the King just calmly flicked off Taehyun’s sword with his own, spinning out of the way in an almost relaxed manner. His face, however, was anything but relaxed. Distress, hurt, panic, and anger warred across his facial expressions, as if he had no idea what sort of emotion he should be feeling right now.

“Is there anything else you lied to me about?”

Beomgyu caught Taehyun off-guard by suddenly asking a question, and the vizier almost tripped. Beomgyu stepped away quickly, lowering his sword. Taehyun thought he saw Beomgyu offer a hand out of the corner of his eye, but when he straightened, Beomgyu was just standing still, waiting for Taehyun to come at him again. Taehyun narrowed his eyes and lunged.

“Yeah, there is. You remember the sister, right? The sister whose life I swore upon when I came to you with the contract, before the Crown Handing. I lied to you about her. She was my sister: my real blood sister from the Jeo clan. The Jeo clan has no surname branches, right? She and I were the last of the Jeo clan. Said sister died when she was born, just two years after me. I’m the last of the Jeo clan.”

Beomgyu sucked in a breath, almost forgetting to block Taehyun’s attack. The sword came down and slashed a long cut in Beomgyu’s coat but he didn’t even register it, staring at Taehyun in sadness and disappointment. “So you really did lie to me about something else. Wow. I… I should have known.”

Beomgyu’s disappointed tone made Taehyun feel even worse, and gritted his teeth, coming down even harder on Beomgyu.

“What can I say? I really do hate you.”

“You know it’s better to talk things out rather than fight, don’t you? Taehyun, don’t do this.”

“Don’t do this?” Taehyun scoffed, never taking his eyes off Beomgyu’s sword. “This is long overdue, Beomgyu. This hate I have for you: it’s mutual, isn’t it? Don’t deny it. Surely you must hold hate over me.” He advanced on Beomgyu, almost pushing him into a corner of the room.

“It’s not mutual,” Beomgyu insisted. “It really isn’t. Believe me, I know my feelings, and this emotion I have for you is not hate. And why does it have to be talked about like this? Taehyun, please. Why can’t we just sit down and talk normally?” Beomgyu ducked under Taehyun’s arm, freeing himself from becoming trapped.

“Stop being a coward, Beomgyu,” Taehyun hissed, once again going after Beomgyu. His sword came crashing down on Beomgyu’s, and Beomgyu struggled to prevent Taehyun’s sword from touching him. “You’re always running away. You know that, right? You’re such a coward, always running away to avoid things. You’re always running away from things even remotely related to me. You ran away from court, you ran away from your duties. You’re running away right now. When will you stop running away and just face me ?”

At that, something in Beomgyu snapped. He stopped trying to back away from Taehyun, and threw off Taehyun’s sword with sudden strength, this time advancing on the vizier.

“Me, running away from you? Are you being fucking serious right now? Taehyun, I’ve never run away from you. Never!”

Taehyun was taken aback by how quickly Beomgyu’s mood had switched, scrambling to deflect Beomgyu’s blows.

“You were always the one running away from me, Taehyun. I asked you to face me, but you’re the one who avoided it. You avoided me in the first place, you know that right?”

Taehyun scoffed. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Beomgyu snapped, sword just silver blur in the lights. “When I came out to you, you avoided me. Hell, even before that! When Jieon revealed himself as gender fluid, you avoided me!”

“Well what was I supposed to do?” Taehyun yelled back, slashing his sword with even more vigour. “I had a reputation to protect, you know!”

“Your reputation was more important than your best friend and his brother? Seriously?” Beomgyu said. “Wow, I never thought you’d sink that low!”

Taehyun made a noise of indignation, swinging his sword at Beomgyu. The other deflected his attacks easily, and Taehyun struggled to defend himself.

“Why shouldn’t I worry about my reputation?” Taehyun fired back. “I was the prince, Beomgyu. In this homophobic Kingdom, being seen with you two wouldn’t be beneficial to me at all.”

“You could have at least helped, Taehyun!”

“Helped what? What are you talking about?”

Beomgyu stepped back, and Taehyun stopped too. He stared at the vizier in disbelief.

“What are you talking about?” Taehyun repeated.

At that, Beomgyu flared up. Taehyun genuinely had no idea?

Taehyun, tired of waiting for Beomgyu, attacked again, but didn’t get far before Beomgyu’s sword started to swing harder and faster. There was a look of pure heartbroken rage on his face.

“Jieon died, Taehyun! He took his own life.”

At those words, Taehyun stumbled. “What? I– I thought he just ran away.”

Beomgyu scoffed, angrily brushing away a tear. “You’re so ignorant. Didn’t you notice that I was wearing black for a whole month? Oh– that’s right. You were too busy avoiding me.” Beomgyu lunged, anger fuelling his movements. “Jieon was all I had! When Mother ran away when I was five, and Father was too busy with his Lord duties, Jieon was the one who looked after me. You could have stopped the bullies, Taehyun! You could have stopped them from taunting him, pushing him to kill himself! But you didn’t. You did nothing to stop them, Taehyun! Nothing!”

“Well I didn’t know, did I?” Taehyun shot back, sword slashing furiously to block Beomgyu’s attacks. “How can I do something if I don’t know what it is?”

“‘Tranny’, ‘fake man’, taunting him and calling him ‘it’... They dehumanised him so many times, not even caring when he informed them that he felt like a ‘she’ or a ‘they’ or a ‘he’ at that time! Do you know how hard that must be, Taehyun? To see people just not care?”

“So then why are you calling him ‘he’?” Taehyun retorted.

“Because he was a ‘he’ when he died!” Beomgyu snapped, tears and sword glistening in the light. “I still see his face, that look of helplessness… I felt so fucking useless in that moment. I couldn’t stop him, no matter how hard I begged. No matter how hard I cried and begged him to stay, he still jumped.” His watery glare honed in on Taehyun again. “But you could have stopped them! You could have done something, and yet you did nothing! And don’t give me that ‘I didn’t know’ bullshit, because this was huge back in court. You knew, Taehyun! But you did nothing!”

“At least I didn’t join in!” Taehyun defended himself, both with his voice and sword. “Unlike all those others!”

“But you didn’t stop them, Taehyun!” Beomgyu yelled, tears choking his words. “Because you did nothing, it makes you as bad as them!”

Taehyun stood there, stunned. He didn’t even notice Beomgyu’s sword coming at him until the last minute, and he spun away quickly. The sword impaled itself in the stone wall, vibrating slightly from the force which Beomgyu had used. Judging by how deep it was lodged into the stone, Beomgyu had added his wind strength to drive the sword harder. Taehyun stared at the sword in shock.

Beomgyu was sitting on the floor, sobbing hysterically.

“I never hated you, Taehyun. It sounds like I hate you, but I don’t. Not you. I may have hated what you did, but I could never hate you. Never you. To me, you would always be the kind, loving Kang Taehyun, the Taehyun I knew since he could barely walk. Because I knew who you truly were, I couldn’t hate you.”

Taehyun’s sword clattered to the floor. Beomgyu didn’t even look up at him, face still covered by his hands.

“Though I may have gotten mad for what you’d done, I could never hate you. I tried to, I swear I did: I tried to hate you when you rejected me for being homosexual; I tried when you betrayed me and landed me here, and I’ve tried several times these past months. But I just can’t,” Beomgyu sobbed, now hiccuping because of the force of his tears. “I could never hate you, no matter how hard I tried. It drove me fucking insane, Taehyun. Do you want to know why I could never hate you? How, despite everything that happened, I never hated you?”

“No,” Taehyun said. “I don’t.” I do. I want to know why you could never hate me, the person who betrayed you over and over again.

Beomgyu ignored Taehyun, and continued talking. “Forget what I said about ‘loved’, past tense,” he said through tears. “I still do. I fucking love you, Kang Taehyun!” he screamed, suddenly becoming hysterical. Taehyun took a step back, wide-eyed, as Beomgyu scrunched his fists into his hair, still sobbing.

For a few minutes, he wasn’t able to form proper words, his tears choking all coherent sentences he could make. He cried and hiccuped, his hands doing little to wipe the tears that kept pouring down his cheeks. Some part of Taehyun told him to go help Beomgyu, but all he could do was stand there, hands swinging uselessly by his sides, as Beomgyu rubbed at his own eyes. Eventually, it seemed his eyes grew tired of constantly watering, as his tears began to die down, until he was just giving the odd hiccup.

“I love you so much,” he whispered, wetness still glistening on his cheeks. “You could hurt me a thousand times, but I’d never be able to hurt you, not even once. I can’t. You can roll your eyes and sigh and push me away like an annoying child, but I’ll still come back like an obedient puppy. Even if you scream and glare and tell me you hate me, I can’t hate you. Because the Taehyun I know could never truly hate me, either. The Taehyun who smiled and laughed and who I spent my most precious moments with. The Taehyun who called himself the moon to my sun, who lit up my darkest nights. The Taehyun I fell in love with long ago, who I still believe is inside you. Call me stupid, call me an idiot. But I can never hate you when I knew what kind of person you truly were.” He wiped at his cheeks, looking sad and tired and so heartbroken it made Taehyun’s heart hurt.

“Then why?” Taehyun whispered. “Why did you say you hate me?”

“It was easier than explaining how I truly felt,” Beomgyu said. He looked up at Taehyun, eyes bloodshot and teary, but still bright and beautiful. “I love you, Taehyun. It may sound abrupt, but I really do. I’ve loved you for so long, I can’t remember what not loving you feels like.” He gave a tired, watery smile, all the anger and fury drained out of him. “You probably don’t feel the same. I knew you didn’t anyway, the moment you walked out on me, three years ago. It’s okay. But I just want you to know that it was never hate I felt for you. It was love.” Slowly, he stood up and reached out his hand. Taehyun flinched, thinking Beomgyu was trying to reach for him, but Beomgyu’s sword just flew out of where it had been impaled in the wall, back to Beomgyu’s hands. He placed the sword by Taehyun’s feet, and stepped back: a traditional sign of surrender. A sign used when a soldier recognised a more skilled, more powerful opponent that he could never be able to maim. Normally, it would be used when a soldier couldn’t hurt them; here, Beomgyu used it to show that he wouldn’t hurt him.

After placing his sword at Taehyun’s feet, he straightened, and stepped back again. The action was sad and defeated, and it made Taehyun’s heart clench uncomfortably.

“Ah, right. I came here to apologise, didn’t I? Well then, here is my last apology: I apologise for being here in your life, Taehyun. I apologise for all the pain and frustration I’ve caused you. I never intended to be someone that you hate, and I apologise for that.” Taehyun didn’t say anything, so Beomgyu hesitantly bowed again. “I’ll… I’ll get going now.”

Despite those words, he stayed where he was for a few more seconds, as if hoping for Taehyun to say something. The hope was evident on his face, too. But when Taehyun just stared blankly at him, he sighed – a small, barely-there sigh. But Taehyun heard it. And yet again, his heart clenched. Still, he didn’t move. He only stood there and watched as Beomgyu slowly trudged away, footsteps loud and echoing in the large gymnasium.

Something in him stirred: a desperate, intense emotion that persisted within him. With every step Beomgyu took, it felt as if he were stamping all over Taehyun’s heart. As he watched Beomgyu gradually move further away, he felt a strange urge to call out to him, to prevent him from leaving. It was strange in the fact that he’d never felt something as intense as this before, and it only came when he was around Beomgyu. He gave a gasp suddenly, as he realised. He finally realised, after all this time, what the intense feeling was. And it wasn’t hate.

“I don’t hate you.”

Beomgyu paused. Slowly, he looked back, and there was a small, sad smile on his face. “There’s no need to pity me, Taehyun. I know that what you feel for me is far away from love. It’s alright. I’ve learnt to live with it.”

“I don’t hate you,” Taehyun repeated. “I don’t hate you.” Finally, he began to move, walking towards Beomgyu. “I don’t. Just like you, I pretend I do, because it’s easier than admitting what it actually is. And what it actually is… is something other than hate.”

Beomgyu was already shaking his head before Taehyun could finish. “No, Taehyun, don’t. Please don’t give me hope. Hope is a flimsy, foolish thing. I have been misled by hope one too many times, and I will not be led astray again.” Beomgyu retreated again, but Taehyun reached out a hand and grasped his wrist, holding him in place.

“Please, just listen,” Taehyun begged. “Listen, and believe me. Even though I didn’t know it myself until just seconds ago, I’m sure that my feelings are correct. Surer than anything.”

The other didn’t say anything.

“Please.”

Beomgyu closed his eyes and looked down, inhaling a shaky breath. But he didn’t remove his arm from Taehyun’s grip. “Go on then,” he said in a small voice. “Since it looks like you really want to. Give me hope.”

Taehyun breathed a sigh of relief, his body relaxing. But he still gripped onto Beomgyu’s wrist tight, as if it were his lifeline.

“You were right,” he said. “I was always avoiding you. Always trying to stay away from you, to stay away from the feelings I felt. Because when you were around, all I could focus on was you.”

The hand which Taehyun didn’t have a grip on was curled at Beomgyu’s side. He clenched his fist, head still bowed and eyes squeezed shut, as if he didn’t want to look up at Taehyun.

“That day… I walked away from you because it made me realise that I might feel… that way about you as well. The– the thought scared me, because it was so different, so sudden, that I didn’t know what to do. So I freaked out, and walked away.” Taehyun sighed. “I know, I know. It was an asshole move. I know that now, and I’m really, really sorry.” He gave a weak smile. “You’re right, you know. I’m the coward. I was the one who avoided you because I didn’t know how to handle my feelings. Because I was so scared, I convinced myself I was repulsed and hated you, to explain away the intense feeling I felt. I ran away from my feelings. I ran away from you. And I’m sorry. I really am. You’re not the coward here, Beomgyu. The coward here is me.”

Taehyun bit his lip, hesitating.

“I really am just the moon, Beomgyu. Timid. Pale. Relying on you to be able to live. I only come out in the darkness, while you’re going to sleep, because that’s when I feel most confident. Because I’m just a scared, shy moon who relies on their bright, happy sun to be able to feel some warmth.

“When– when I lost you, when you left court, you have no idea how cold I felt. When you left, I realised what a huge mistake it had been to let you go. But I was prideful: I didn’t want to admit my mistake. And so I let you go, even though it hurt me to do so.

“When you were gone, I felt more confident about myself, since your light wasn’t with me. Your bright, beautiful light which shone even on sunny days. My life had been plunged into darkness, and in that time, I was the brightest light. There was no sun with its light guiding the way. It was just me, on my own. In that darkness, I slowly forgot how bright your light was, convincing myself I didn’t need you. That I was bright enough to shine. I told myself I didn’t need you, didn’t have to need you anymore. I tried to convince myself that I didn’t want you. Until… until I did. But when you came back into my life, it wasn’t with the tirelessly optimistic brightness you normally had. Your light had dimmed, and saddened, and that just made me feel even worse. Because I did that to you. I turned my back on you, and I hurt you.”

Slowly, gingerly, he slid his hand down Beomgyu’s wrist, loosely intertwining their hands together. Beomgyu offered no resistance, and even gripped Taehyun’s hand tighter. But still, he didn’t look at Taehyun.

“When I realised that, it made me feel even worse. I was meant to be your moon, the rock always by your side, but I abandoned you, because I was too scared to own up for my own feelings. And because I don’t want to see your light die further, I’m doing it now. I don’t hate you, Beomgyu. No matter how many times I tried to convince myself, it never fully worked, even though I tried to believe it did. Because for as long as your light shone, so did mine, and I could never hate you for being there, helping me live. I truly don’t hate you.

“I know you have no reason to believe me, but please,” Taehyun begged, voice wavering with the amount of emotion he felt, “please, believe me. I don’t hate you. Far from it. It may seem like I’m only saying it, but I mean it too. When… when I thought I was going to lose you just now, that’s what did it for me. It’s what made me realise that I really do care for you, Beomgyu. I couldn’t lose my light again, because of yet another stupid mistake of mine. I know I’ve lied and betrayed you so many times, but I’d never lie about this. I care about you more than you thought. I care about you more than I thought. I really do.”

Beomgyu squeezed Taehyun’s hand tighter, fingernails digging into the vizier’s skin. Taehyun’s hands were damp with sweat, but still he clung to Beomgyu desperately, begging the other to believe him.

There was a tense, desperate silence between them. Beomgyu didn’t respond, and Taehyun didn’t add anything further to his confession. He couldn’t– it felt like his throat had shrivelled up, and his tongue had forgotten how to form words.

Beomgyu took several slow, shaky breaths, before finally lifting his head to look at Taehyun.

“Taehyun, please, don’t do this to my poor heart,” he whispered, voice cracking desperately. “You can’t do this to me. I’m weak for you. I’ll believe every word that comes out of your mouth so please, please don't lie.”

“I’m not lying,” Taehyun said, holding Beomgyu’s hand impossibly tight. “I really am not. Truly. No, Beomgyu, please.”

Beomgyu was messily trying to extricate himself from Taehyun’s grip, but the vizier kept on clinging to his fingers, not wanting to let him go.

“I can’t,” Beomgyu said, voice quivering. “I– I can’t do it, Taehyun. I love you, a lot, far too much to risk believing you. I’m content with loving you alone, and not getting the love returned. I never would have imagined this, so please, don’t lie. Please.”

Still, Taehyun tried to hold onto Beomgyu. “I’m not lying, I’m not, truly. No– please, Beomgyu, no, no…”

With several tugs, Beomgyu managed to extract himself, stepping away. When Beomgyu finally pulled away, Taehyun let out a small sob. He didn’t even notice, but tears had begun to form in his eyes. His eyes were bright with desperation, brimming with liquid. Now, a single droplet fell down his cheek, and he didn’t even bother to wipe it away.

Tears had formed in Taehyun’s eyes countless times before, but it was today, the first day in years, that he let them fall.

Beomgyu watched in shock as the tear trailed down Taehyun’s cheek. His face crumpled briefly, distraught at the fact that Taehyun was crying because of him. Still, he took another firm step back. And, with some difficulty, another. But the raw pain in Taehyun’s eyes made him stop, his own eyes beginning to water again. Beomgyu wanted to believe Taehyun. He wanted to believe him more than anything. But he also didn’t want to get hurt. Because that’s all that Taehyun had done in years – hurt Beomgyu again and again.

“Beomgyu, please, I can’t lose you, not again–”

“If you’re my moon, then it’s best to stay away, right?” Beomgyu said desperately, not wanting to hear Taehyun’s broken voice. “As the sun, stay with me too long and I’ll only hurt you. I’m too fiery, brash, immature: I could hurt you–”

“But you never have,” Taehyun said softly, the tears in his eyes making them shine like stars. “You’ve never hurt me, only showed me the truth. I was the one who hurt you with lies, and betrayal. You never hurt me, Beomgyu.”

Tears were now slowly tracing their way down Beomgyu’s cheeks again. “You just said it yourself,” he said. “You’ve only ever hurt me.”

“I know, and I’m so, so sorry,” Taehyun whispered, reaching out to hesitantly wipe away the tears from Beomgyu’s face. His hand lingered on Beomgyu’s cheek, reluctant to move away.

“How do I know you won’t hurt me again? How do I know you aren’t lying to me right now?”

Taehyun hesitated, and Beomgyu removed his hand from his cheek.

“I don’t, do I?” he said rhetorically. “Then I can’t. I can’t become a fool for you again.” He stepped away, quicker than he’d done before, before he could be persuaded yet again to stay.

He strode away almost desperately, looking like a man fleeing from temptation. Which, it could be supposed that he was. He was pulling open one of the huge, gymnasium double doors. He was leaving. One more millisecond and he would be out the door, and would never be the same way around Taehyun again. He wouldn’t be able to so much as look at the other anymore. Their relationship – their twenty four year relationship as friends-but-something-more – shattered, just like that.

But Taehyun was already at the doors, slamming them shut, a hand over Beomgyu’s on the doorknob to prevent him from leaving, pushing Beomgyu against the door.

Beomgyu’s eyes were wide, lips already parted to try and say something.

But before he could even get a word out – before he could even begin to form a syllable – something soft and warm pressed itself against his mouth, and all his protests withered like flowers in his throat.

After all, who was he to complain when the love of his life was there, right in front of him, kissing him in the gentlest way imaginable?

His eyelids fluttered shut, transfixed by the sensation of Taehyun’s mouth on his own. The hand covering his came up to rest on his cheek, pulling Beomgyu even closer towards Taehyun.

He was melting. There was no other way to describe it. Beomgyu was melting under Taehyun’s touch.

Taehyun was the only thing taking up all of his senses– his intoxicating, slightly sweaty, Taehyun-like scent, his feather-light touch, his comforting, familiar presence: fuck, Taehyun was even the only thing he could taste in that moment. His soft, plush lips, pressed ever so gently against his own, making Beomgyu’s insides melt from the softness.

Ever so slowly, in a sweet, unhurried manner, he began to kiss Taehyun back, adoring the fact that Taehyun was here, right here, kissing him in the gentlest way possible, his touch as sweet as honey. It was like Taehyun was the flower and Beomgyu was the honey bee: he was completely taken by Taehyun, and couldn’t get him close enough.

Eventually, in an almost reluctant manner, Taehyun pulled away, still holding Beomgyu’s face in his hands. He licked his pinkened lips nervously, staring up at Beomgyu.

“I don’t want you to ever think I’m going to hurt you,” he said softly. “Because… I like you. A lot. I– I don’t know if this feeling is love, but if it isn’t, then it’s pretty damn close. I would never intentionally hurt you. Not again. Not anymore. Not now, now that I know how I feel for you.”

Beomgyu was silent for a tense minute, and Taehyun grew more anxious. Perhaps Beomgyu didn’t believe him? Perhaps he thought Taehyun was lying?

Taehyun opened his mouth to add onto what he had just said. “You might not believe me, but it’s true. Even if you don’t believe me, could you think about it? Give me a chance? I know I haven’t been that forthcoming with you, and I’ve hurt you so many times, but everything I just said… I really did mean every word.” Beomgyu just stared at him. The tears were building up in Taehyun’s eyes again. “Please, Beomgyu, could you believe me? Please. Hell, the longer I think about it, the more it seems to be true. Beomgyu, I l–”

Beomgyu took Taehyun’s face into his hands and pulled him into another kiss. And, though it was muffled by Beomgyu’s lips, Taehyun gave a soft gasp, letting out a surprised oh.

This kiss was more desperate, more determined than before. Beomgyu’s lips moved against Taehyun’s almost feverishly, as if he couldn’t get enough of him. His touch was firmer, more sure of itself. Taehyun staggered back, surprised by the force of the kiss. One of Beomgyu’s hands came down to Taehyun’s back, guiding him to one of the pillars by the door.

This kiss was passionate, full of raw emotions. Taehyun’s hand weakly rested on Beomgyu’s waist, overwhelmed by the fervor with which Beomgyu kissed him.

Though he hadn’t said a word, Beomgyu’s message was clear.

I believe you, and I love you. I love you, so so much. I love you.

Those three words echoed in Taehyun’s brain as they kissed, over and over again. It was all that filled his mind as Beomgyu’s lips moved against his, soft and yet passionate and oh so wonderful.

He loves me. Beomgyu loves me.

Suddenly, he began to cry.

During their first kiss, Taehyun had been too overcome with fear, anxiousness, and desperateness to make Beomgyu stay that he hadn’t fully registered what was happening. But now, feeling Beomgyu of his own accord pull him in, attaching their lips together… the thought that someone loved him enough to do that was overwhelming in itself, but to hear it loud and clear, the ‘I love you’ evident in Beomgyu’s actions: it was all too much for Taehyun to take. For someone who’d bottled up his emotions and detached himself from his feelings for years, building up this facade of a curt, cold, unapproachable person– this obvious display of love made him break down into tears.

He was crying: harder now, so hard that Beomgyu pulled away, fearing he’d done something wrong.

“Taehyun? I– I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

Taehyun grabbed onto Beomgyu’s wrists to stop him from moving away, sinking to the ground. He held Beomgyu’s hands, pressing his lips against his knuckles. “I love you,” he managed to whisper through sobs. “I love you, I love you, I love you…”

Understanding the situation, Beomgyu’s face melted into a gentle smile, coming to crouch down next to Taehyun. “It’s alright, it’s alright… I love you too.” Taehyun began to sob harder, and Beomgyu pulled him against his chest, letting the younger cry into his shoulder.

He pressed a soft, loving kiss onto Taehyun’s hair, wrapping his arms more tightly around his shaking shoulders. Taehyun continued to cry, pressed securely against Beomgyu’s chest, still whispering ‘I love you’s repeatedly.

The afternoon sunlight continued to stream in through the gymnasium windows, before darkening to the richer, warmer evening light. The pink sunlight reflected off their swords, lying discarded in one corner. The light slowly faded, before disappearing altogether, a navy sky studded with small lights replacing the orange and pink canvas. And still, the two of them stayed there, in each other’s embrace, exchanging words of confession and soft, shy kisses under the gentle, serene light of the moon.

And for the first time, the first time in many years, they were happy. Together.

[rotzaprachim]

be gentle with the people who were not made from The Fall

- Gen, Declan Lynch &  Mór Ó Corra

2k ao3 here

She passed Declan a blank manilla envelope. He ran his fingers gingerly over the edges, life having long ago built up a healthy suspicion of anything from the channels of the Fairy Market. He couldn’t feel anything, but he’d also never had the touch for it. At some point he’d always ended up having to hold his breath and jump in in order to get the rough work done. 

He slit it open with the knife in his pocket.  

There were answers he’d had before he even knew what the questions were. Firstborn, Niall told Declan. My All-American son, Niall told Declan. When you were born the rivers dried up and all the cows in Rockingham County cried blood, Niall told Ronan. When you were born, I wasn’t here, Niall told Declan. 

The silence swallowed his voice for a long time. 

“Ó Corra?” 

She gave him a look that said, you can’t pronounce your own name. Finally she said, “You have my name. It’s what they did when the father couldn’t be found.” 

He studied the certificate in the small crescents of yellow light that bounced in through the tinted windows of her sports car from the streetlight outside. The Births and Deaths Registation (Northern Ireland) Order 1976, Article 34. Registered in the District of Belfast. 24 July 1997. Declan James Ó Corra.

There was a box that asked for Name and Surname and Dwelling Place of Father (6). It was blank. There was another box that asked for Rank or Profession of Father. On that one, someone had gona back with a red pen at some later point, scrawled angrily, messily, bleeding jaggedly out from the neat black boxes, GONE. 

It made sense, in a strange sort of way that Declan’s brain dimly seemed to recognise in the same way that the drowning man thinks the sun streaming through the surface looks quite nice even when he’s being pulled under. Niall Lynch’s sons. The dreamer son of a dream and the dream of the dreamer the son of a dream. And here now was the odd one out, the liar the son of a lie. 

“I was two years younger than you.” The woman finally said. He couldn’t think of her as anything other than the vague idea digging at the back of his eye turned hard, angry secret when he started to shift through his father’s boxes of crap after death. He’d left a fuckton of a lot of loose threads, although Declan hadn’t thought he’d be one of them. Letters and phone bills from a far-away woman, even a photo or two, all the vitriol and anger he’d carried around bubbling up again acridly through a mirror. Collected in an old file box next to IOU’s and pay me bastard or i’ll fuck you ups in seven different languages, three of which Niall didn’t know how to read. Collected, and never returned. Even some photos of him as a kiddo in a tiny knit sweater. 

“No explanations.” Declan finally said. His voice sounded like when he’d had the lights punched out of him by one of the goons his dad owed rubles, or rupees, or riyals, in the parking lot of a Fairy Market. It could have been all three. “You don’t have to give me one.” I don’t know if I want one, he didn’t say. 

“I’m a very dangerous woman to find, Declan. You wouldn’t have found me if you hadn’t been looking.” 

He didn’t know what he wanted. He wanted safety, although he’d ruled out that as a possibility years ago. He wanted the ones the world had left him to care for to be safe, and he’d jeapordised all that on a wild goose chase to find the woman in one of his father’s fucking dream objects on a hunch of a hunch. He’d done exactly what he’d warned Ronan not to do, relied on himself to be smarter, sharper, more careful. All attributes hard won on his own,  like learning from imitation from a mirror. You see what this who looks like you does? Now do the opposite. 

He sighed. The air bristled, and he realised he sounded a lot like Mór Ó Corra.

“Maybe I-” 

Maybe he hadn’t been angry, almost, to find out. Maybe he’d almost been relieved. A voice to his darkest thoughts saying, you did not dream this up. The part of himself that’d been forced through seven years of Catholic school and then forced himself through a few months of therapy where he couldn’t tell the therapist about any of the things that had most profoundly fucked him up said a good man should have loved any child, regardless. He was about fifteen years past thinking Niall to be a good man. 

“Maybe I spent so many years dealing with all the fucking dreaming, the dreamers and the dreams and every fucking thing that’s come to kill us because Dad couldn’t fix any of his own shit and the fact that none, none of it was ever part of me that I thought I wanted some kind of fucking explanation for it all. I wanted some- some explanation for it all. Why I was different. WHy dad- … WHy dad. I wanted some part of a past that was mine.” Selfish, maybe. Learned. If you spent a lifetime you were different from other people, eventually you came to a wanting a reason for them to be different from you. 

“And you think I’m going to be the dear old Mam who darns your socks and calls to remind you to bring a good girl home to the family?” 

“No. I didn’t ask for that. You know what I asked for.” 

The second Manilla envelope she gave him was far thicker. This time, he could feel the slightest trace of- something. Not a buzzing, not a mist, a- something. He slid it into his briefcase. No expectations. Nothing more. A deal that was a deal, only a birth certificate instead of a handshake. 

“I was two years younger than you. Sometimes life doesn’t hand you many choices. I’d say you didn’t understand, and you don’t, but I’ll also say you’ve been a hell of a lot more of a father than Niall ever was. All the more so since the world’s made you be one.” 

Niall was drunk off some kind of spiked slivovitz when he’d come round to it the first time. Retrospectively, he was probably scared shitless, and rightly so. “Anything happens,” he’d slurred into the hotel couch. “You’re the man of the house. Take ‘em to church. Make ‘em proper. Make ‘em fear God. There’s money in the bank, anything happens.” And Declan had almost said, you know it’s my number Matthew’s school’s had down on the books for a year now? You know the priest there already thinks we’re orphans? 

“You’ve got a number and an adress. You’re a smart boy. You know if you use it my women’ll kill you just as likely as the dreamkillers.” 

“Everything has a price. At least you’re up front on it.” 

“I’m not a good woman, Declan. Don’t make your father’s mistake. Don’t dream me into being one.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

--- 

He didn’t open the package until he’d driven two hours, switched lisence plates and then cars, moved a state line, and walked two miles out to a sublet Jordan knew from a friend of a friend of an enemy in the art underground, where two dreams were now. It came with two dozen forged Miró’s in the living room, all done with a variety of blue paint with a distinctly incriminating synthetic binding agent manufactured solely post 1986, and even in the palest strands of morning light it made the living room into a riot of psychedelic stick-figure Catalan sunshine. He opened the door carefully, walked gingerly past the still-sleeping Matthew, TV still flickering from where he’d probably been watching it far later than Declan would have let him. Flicked the kitchen light on and made himself a cup of instant coffee, and more than anything else resisted the urge to upstairs and collapse next to Jordan in the bed that was for the moment theirs and sleep till noon. But if there was a lesson he’d learned by know it was that he couldn’t do any of the things he wanted to in life. So he downed the shitty instant coffee and he opened Mór Ó Corra’s folder and he got to work. You do what you gotta do for your family, Niall had told him. A deal had gone south and they’d made it out with their lives and stacks of money shoved in their pockets. One day you’ll have yourself a wife and some kids and then you’ll know. And he’d swallowed what he now knew was his rage. 

     “Ready to make a deal with the devil?” The voice on the other end of the number had said when he’d dialed it, and he said, only the devil can help me now, and he’d been right. No one with their head above the water could know the things he wanted to know about the Moderators. I have two dreamers and two dreams to keep out of the reach of a shadowy intergovernmental agency who’s whole M.O is about killing every dreamer they can find to stop the end of the world. Only a shadow knows its kind. And for her part, Mór Ó Corra had been thorough. He didn’t trust her. He didn’t trust her and he didn’t even know if he trusted the birth certificate. When you were the lying son of a lie, another one would be more natural than anything. He wouldn’t act on any of her information until he could put some feelers out, a few red herrings, get ahold of some of Nialls’ other bullshit to run cross checks. It was a start. At some he’d always ended up having to hold his breath and jump in in order to get the rough work done. At some point, he’d always just been shoved in. 

He didnt’ realise he’d fallen asleep until he was woken up. By Matthew, prodding his neck with the tines of a fork. 

“You said to wake you up if you slept past noon.” Jordan set down a massive plate of something exactly an inch from his eardrum with a loud clatter. 

“It’s 12:02,” Matthew added generously. 

He looked down. He hadn’t gotten through the pile. There was still more- 

Jordan’s eyes flicked notably towards the floor tiles. Declan followed them. In his early morning haze he’d somehow missed a second, smaller envelope within the envelope. He slipped it into his jacket before Matthew could see. He slid all of the papers back into the envelope before Matthew could see more. 

“Two whole extra minutes? Well, that’s where’s where the rest of my day went.” 

“You looked like you needed it. Like, you definitely looked like you needed it.” She handed him the day’s second mug of instant coffee and it hit him again that he loved her a not, which would have felt all new and electric even in circumstances that were not the current ones and when and if this was all over with hopefully no more deaths she deserved a really really nice vacation to somewhere sunny. Which he would not promise until he knew he could actually pull it off, because Declan Lynch was a liar but he was not a man who broke promises. 

  He didn’t open up the other envelope until he was in the bathroom with the door firmly locked. Magical all female mafias ran on the power of the sticky stuff at the top of a Manilla envelope, apparently. Only a few sheets inside. A surprisingly blurry print-out map with a building circled, a clipping from the Belfast Telegraph about the NHS’s most recent warnings on the loneliness epidemic among young adults and seniors, and new local projects for seniors to form new connections through knitting circles, classes in French and Irish, and mentorship opportunities with Sixth-Form students. “Former school teacher Anne  Ó Corra recounts feelings of isolation after the untimely death of her only daughter in 1999. She says that mentorship opportunities with Saint Mary’s Compre-” Declan scanned the article. On the back the same hand that had scrawled, GONE, wrote, THink the old bat’d be happy to see you. 

[zuffer-weird-girl]

How would kai feel if his s/o was super loyal like she drunk or got her wisdom teeth out and she falls or something and he trying to help her but since she all loopy she like don’t touch me I got a man at home and he way sexier then you and his name is kai chisaik scrub and one day I’m going to be miss chisaik so not today Satan

I needed to write this

Who let you drink in the first place?

He let you alone in the company of Mimic for only one hour for God's sake. And the bastard let you drink.

"Mimic." He growled while the man already lifted a finger towards your drunk self a bit far away.

"IT WAsN'T My FUcKinG FaULT YlUr ChiCk JuST SnAtChEd ThE-"

"Silence. Get out." He growled and the man only sighed and left the room mumbling atrocities which Chisaki gladly decided to ignore... for now.

He looked at you in dissapointment yet worry as he sighed and uncrossed his arms to grab your own to lead you back.

"I swear you're cause me so many headaches already..." he muttered before he widen his eyes at the slap you gave to his hand. "What the actual-?" He growled in anger at your actions before you looked up at him with a angry frow.

"Who are you-? Don't-Don't-" you hiccuped before taking a few messy steps back pointing at his face "Don't dare you to touch me FILTH!" You ended up giggling at hearing yourself, remind you exactly of your boyfriend.

Whose by the way, where was he?

"... You're serious? (Y/N) stop with this." He grunted before getting his hand slapped again out of your search "Why you freaking bra-"

"I said don't touch me FILTH!" You almost dropped as you pointed at him again while he arched a eyebrow "I have a fucking bo-" you hiccuped "boyfriend. And by HELL he is gonna beat your ass if he founds out you touched me!"

Huh... this might be interesting.

He crossed his arms, stoic face as usual with one of his eyebrows lifted up.

"Is that so? Is he from the yakusa by any chance?"

"Heck yeah he is!" He smirked a bit at that "And he is far- FAR more handsome than you sick fuck!" You went to take a step bit miserably fell down with your face on the floor.

He went to help you but growled when you told him to fuck off... gosh you were stubborn.

"So you're willing to dirty yourself and even get killed by your own stupidity then?" He growled, growing irritated of your attitude.

"For him I even take five burning showers because yes I do anything-" you slurred while getting up, knees still on the ground as you drubkly glared up at him "I'm telling you dude, one day I'm going to be Miss Chisaki and you will be fucked-!" You dropped again when you went to point at him again... growling at the impact with the floor.

Miss... Chisaki?

His eyes went wide for a bit of moment, heart racing at your words and breath laughing in the middle of his throat.

He knew already how loyal you were... but when people got drunk they even spilled the deepest secrets if talked smoothly with them, they didn't bother to hide or even to spill the truth about anything...

He always had the thought that you weren't exactly that infatued with him, afraid even of you being scared of him... yet there you were... being defensive and even offending him for thinking he was some bastard on the street. Mumbling the words how you thought he was the best and that you were even getting his despicable surname one day...

He got his breath back in a hearted scoff, smirking as he crouched down a bit to caught you still mumbling about him or something.

"So you're just lying on the ground then angel?"

"Call me that one more time and I will break your toes!" You almost shouted as you angrily tried to slap him "Only Kai can call me that!!"

He chuckled a bit at that. Ok, he had to admit that your rosy cheeks and pout as you attempted to hit him, or whotever you thought he was, was slightly adorable.

"Fisty as always." He grabbed both of your wrists and manage to lift you up despite your squirming figurine "You need a shower and to calm down."

"Put me down BASTARD!"

"I swear. Stop yelling, is annoying." He touched foreheads with you "Cant recognize your man anymore?"

You blinked a bit before gasping dramatically and loudly at finally recognizing those amber eyes.

"Kai you're here!" You hugged his neck and he grunted at the sudden display of affection "I was about to beat a bastard's ass." You yawned and eased up your hold on him.

"Language." He growled while he walked. Still not believing surely that you didn't recognized him ever since then.

"I told him to fuck off and that you were my boyfriend... my devil, my everything.. my birdie.." you started to coo and ramble, thankfully not noticing the warmth that was spreading through his face, ears and neck.

"I swear stop this woman." He growled in embarrassment.

Bonus:

"Stooopppp thiiiisssss" You burried your face in mortified embarrassment while he continued with telling the events of yesterday.

"Ah, should I even comment that you slapped my arm at least three times when I went to help you get up?" He stated monoustly while turning another lage of his book.

"I said I was sorry okay?!" You almost screamed in desperation while burring your face in your hands even more "Please Kai I'm begging you here!"

"There is actually one more thing." You growled, wanting to die to at least escape this situation.

He suddenly grabbed your hand in his, putting both of them down between you both, not breaking eye contact with his book. You made a confused noise in response while he sighed.

"One day I'm making you what you wish for." He looked at you and softened his eyes a bit and your heart skipped a beat when you noticed the hints of him genuily smilling.

"Chisaki (Y/n)."

You stayed silent. Until you felt the burning blush creeping through your face neck amd all of your body.

"Angel? You-" kai went to ask but you gagged a bit in your words before suddenly you let out a embarrassment yelp and just... passed out.

"(Y/N)?" Book forgotten, he went to check your pulse, sighing in relief when he felt your heartbeat "What the hell woman? Talk to me." He shook you a a bit, not understanding why on earth you were so red and knocked out.

He didn't know he could knock someone out just with a look and now he was worried.

[shiny-procrastinates]

(re)Watching Magia Record S1 - part 11

part 10 here

Hello and welcome back everyone to our Magia Record s1 watch-along! Last time, we had the aftermath of the Endless Solitude's incident, found out that Mami is now part of the Wings of the Magius and left off with the reveal that one of Ui's (Iroha's sister, for those who have forgotten) might be another one of the Magius. What is this all about? Let's watch and find out:

Puella Magi Madoka Magica Side Story: Magia Record S1 episode 11

For some reason, we are now watching Tsukuyo's club practice. Wait- Akatsuki? That's not the surname I remember. We also see a photo of Mifuyu on the club room, so they must've been club mates.

Good question, Tsukuyo. Maybe she's waiting for Sana? (lies)

awnt the whole family's on the op now. Yachiyo is even smiling!

NOW we're back to where the other episode left off. According to Sana, she sometimes heard the Feathers talking about Nemu when they came to Ai's barrier to retrieve a witch. The girls then wonder if Nemu's being forced to work with them and Iroha says that maybe Ui's being kept captive by them too, with everyone falling silent at this.

Felicia asks if they can't just catch a Feather and force them to speak, so Tsuruno says if they should keep going after the Rumors them. While the three are wondering that, Iroha remembers about Tsukuyo, who she had seen in her uniform, and we are now back to the present.

Yeah right, are you saying you were actually triplets?

So Iroha decided to catch Tsukuyo after school. If Tsukuyo had a braincell, she could've left by a backdoor or used her magical girl powers to jump over the wall, but it seems she borrowed hers to Tsukasa today.

Tsukuyo stops Iroha from outing her as a Feather, so Iroha invites her to go talk somewhere else. Tsukuyo asks if she plans to interrogate her or worse but Iroha really only wants to talk.

After changing locations, Iroha seems to have told Tsukuyo about her situation. Tsukuyo asks why Iroha would go so far as telling her that, and Iroha answers that she needs to see Nemu no matter what.

After asking who between Tsukuyo and Tsukasa is the younger sister, appealing to their point in common, Iroha threatens outing Tsukuyo to the others if she doesn't let her see Nemu. Tsukuyo is shocked, asking if she's threatening her and Iroha says she doesn't care if she sees it that way. Damn, Iroha really means business when it's about her sister.

As always when it comes to Ui, Iroha's unusually pushy, and Tsukuyo ends up giving in and promising to at least talk to Mifuyu about it.

Later that day, the Mikadzuki girls minus Yachiyo are having a meeting in Iroha's room, and decide to get Yachiyo coasters as a thank-you present for giving them the mugs. So cute.

...that's some interesting club this school has.

The next day, Iroha meets up after school with the other girls to go buy the coaster. Can we talk about the fact there's a group chat just for watching over Felicia? lol

The girls go buy the coaster, and get interrupted by a witch. Guess we can add that to the things magical girls can't do in peace. No probs Tsuruno, there's really no run-time for this.

Look how happy she is. Please don't ruin this in the next scene, show (flag).

Back at the house, Iroha's waiting for Yachiyo's return on Tsuruno's instructions. She hears the doorbell ring and answers it immediately, thinking it's Yachiyo (really, Iroha, why would Yachiyo ring the doorbell to her own house?) but, shockingly, it's Mifuyu.

This probably situation couldn't get more awkward for Iroha had they tried. Iroha tries to show some hospitality, but Mifuyu takes the lead and the opportunity to rub in that she knows the place (and its owner) way better. What's with the attitude, Mifuyu? It's not like Iroha threatened your friend or a- oh wait, nvm.

Iroha asks what business Mifuyu has with Yachiyo today, and Mifuyu asks in return if she has to have some business in order to visit a friend... no, not business Mifuyu but normally you'd warn someone before dropping by, where's your manners? Iroha points out that she hasn't visited for a long time and Mifuyu explains that she didn't come because she knew Yachiyo wouldn't agree with The Wings of the Magius. She then explains she's actually there to talk to Iroha today.

Oh, she did it, she flipped Iroha's switch.

Mifuyu asks if Iroha wouldn't join the cult if she wants to know about Nemu, but Iroha questions Mifuyu's motive for recruiting her, to which Mifuyu says it'd be good for them because she'd be able to investigate about her sister without clashing with them. Iroha presses her about Ui, which she says she doesn't know, and Nemu, but Mifuyu does not say anything else.

...aaand the other girls are standing there in the garden while all this is going on lol

*peek*

Mifuyu invites the girls of Mikadzuki Villa to attend a lecture about what exactly the cult is doing... this is definitely a trap ain't it. At that moment, Yachiyo arrives. Oooh man...

Mifuyu apologizes for the surprise and makes to leave, saying this one unpleasant remark to which Yachiyo angrily replies right away.

Mifuyu provokes Yachiyo, saying how she went back to being her old self, which Yachiyo denies, eventually losing her cool and ordering Mifuyu to leave.

Tsuruno tries to check on Yachiyo but Yachiyo also leaves. Felicia's confused and Tsuruno tries to keep a bright mood, but the atmosphere is definitely ruined.

Yachiyo has went back to her room and-

ohhwoah what is that that's creepy!

So, uhh, Yachiyo is not well at all, she's now hallucinating. Whatever Mifuyu was trying to get at earlier it definitely got to her.

Seems the other girls aren't having a much better night either... but at least they're not hallucinating.

The next day, Iroha relays Mifuyu's invitation to the others. Yachiyo, however, refuses to take part in the conversation and leaves. She's very clearly still bothered about what Mifuyu said, and now she's avoiding her team.

Iroha and the girls have each their reaction to Yachiyo's behavior for a moment, but then go back to the matter at hand. Sana asks if Iroha really plans on going to the lecture, and she says she decided it'd be best to go, after thinking it over. They don't want to fight the cult either, so it shouldn't hurt to at least try to hear them out. Felicia says it's definitely a trap but that they can just break out together then, with Tsuruno agreeing. The two laugh, but doesn't it feel kinda forced?

...and then they realize no one knows where Memory Museum is lol

Mitama! Long time no see.

Iroha drops by the Coordinator's to ask about Memory Museum, which Mitama reveals is a Rumor that's being spread around Sakae Ward.

We then get a scene about the contents of the Rumor. Apparently, the Memory Museum archives memories (who'd thought!) and you can do things with them by ringing a bell, or something. But if you see one you'll end up influenced by it. (I refuse to comment about the goat)

In any case, Momoko points on the map the probable location of Memory Museum, to which Iroha thanks the two and goes back. After Iroha leaving, Mitama advises Momoko to tell "something", at least to Rena, since Kaede is still down, and Momoko says she knows. Quite the dark clouds are on the horizon.

No, literally. It's raining.

Back at Mikadzuki Villa, all the girls except Yachiyo are leaving to go to Memory Museum. Iroha warns Yachiyo they're leaving, but she doesn't answer. Ohh Yachiyo, please, are you sure you won't regret this later?

Iroha and co. naruto run on the rain to Memory Museum, meeting Chibi Kyuubei on the entrance. Yep, definitely Rumor. I might be going crazy but I always think that Iroha looks more her age with the raincoat, despite Madoka's wei- I mean, unique art style. Gotta be something with the proportions.

Also like this detail with Tsuruno's coat folded weird and Felicia's not folded at all lol

We are platformer game now

While climbing up the drawers, the girls talk about chibi Kyuubei, eventually raising suggestions on how to name him... which is funny because that's for the player to decide in the game, so we don't have an official way to call him.

Meanwhile, Rena's meeting up with Momoko. She starts complaining like usual, but soon hesitates when she reads the mood. Momoko says she thought it was time to tell her what happened to Yachiyo one year ago. Wait, what? We never heard about anything either.

But, well... we can guess.

Back at the Memory Museum, Iroha might be the unluckiest mahou shoujo ever, because

One of the Magius is none other than one of her sister's friends.

- x -

Aaand that's it for episode 11. That last scene is a bomb drop, but it's not like you couldn't see it coming from the moment they said Nemu was part of the cult. I mean, if one of the hospital trio was erased from existence, and the other was part of the cult, what were the odds that the last one would be normal? lol

Talking about this scene, I feel compelled to post here the corresponding still from the game, because the world was robbed of Iroha's surprisingly gallant back:

Seriously, when was she ever this cool?

On the other hand, Touka looks like a cute normal kid here which is about as far of the truth as we can get, so I'll give the anime credit for that.

All that aside, we are now approaching the end! With the Magius giving a lecture about salvation and Momoko having a talk with Rena, it's quite clear that the truth about magical girls is about to be revealed to our cast next episode. The big question here is: how will they react? Felicia specially shouldn't be very happy to learn this, considering what her wish was. Exciting!

We also have left to wonder what's up with Yachiyo. Why did what Mifuyu say affect her so much? We have yet to see her backstory, so Momoko talking might just gives us the answer to that question.

With that said, I'll leave it here for today. I can't believe this ended up even later than yesterday considering I start writing even earlier. Dammit short attention span, stop getting sidetracked pls. Tomorrow we'll be watching episode 11 that's looking really promising, so I hope you'll be reading me again then. Have a good morning/afternoon/evening and bye-bye!

[janiedean]

13. Tyrion/Sansa?

“Thank you for your concern but I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

On one side, Tyrion thinks he should mind his own damned business - people usually aren’t too keen on him helping them out or offering to, as he has learned in years here, but then again they’ll probably trust him as far as they can throw him when he changes his surname.

On the other, he can feel the frustration coming off the girl who has been typing on the computer next to his with progressive hatred for the last half hour - he’s sure she’s looking for some book in the catalogue and she’s not finding it except that she knows it has to be, and in turn he can’t concentrate on his own research and honestly, he has a phd thesis to finish, he can’t get any work done like this.

He checks - there is no one on this side of the library other than them. Also, he did work here for a while back when he was an undergrad and he knows each single person behind the desk, and they don’t certainly hate him, so... right.

He clears his throat, then turns towards the girl.

“Uh, miss, do you need any help?” He asks, trying to keep his voice low.

The girl’s head snaps towards him. She’s pretty, he thinks - bright auburn hair, blue eyes, a round face, lips painted in pale pink, a nice white dress -, and she also looks pissed off.

She glares at him, and then -

“Thank you for your concern,” she whispers, sounding like she’s definitely not up for a chat, “but I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Or well, of my work.”

Well then.

“Right,” he says, not even trying to hide his disappointment. Fine, that’s how most people answer him bar Bronn these days, after his father was arrested for... all the reasons why he was arrested, so it’s not like he could ask for anything better than that. “Well, I’m here if you change your mind. I used to work here.”

Then he goes back to cross-check his bibliography, and tries to concentrate for the next five minutes or so -

“I’m sorry,” the girls says out of nowhere, sounding like she is, and Tyrion looks back at her. She does look contrite. “That was... really rude of me. It’s just, every time I asked anyone for help at the desk they weren’t... you know. Helpful. And I felt like an idiot.”

Tyrion checks the desk.

Oh.

“I guess it was with the people who are there right now?” He whispers back.

“Yes,” she confirms. “Why?”

Right. “Hunt is an asshole and hasn’t figured out how the catalog works when he’s been here for three months and Connington is worse than him and somehow they both think women who aren’t studying to be elementary teachers are overreaching. What it is that you can’t find?”

“How do you know it was that?”

“You’ve been typing angrily for the last half hour and I did see the catalog website when I went to the bathroom twenty minutes ago.”

“... Oh. Uhm,” she says, and hands him a list. “I need to check these out and I think they have all of them, but I can’t find the last one and my supervisor swore to hell and back they have it here, but -”

“Wait,” Tyrion says, checking the title. “Oh, that’s because this is an old as fuck edition and most of those haven’t been catalogued yet, you’ll find it if you look in the next room over, there’s the paper catalogue. Just find the author and there should be a card.”

“They didn’t tell me there was a paper catalogue.”

“That’s because they don’t know there is one and they’re shit at that job but what can I say, they can’t hire anyone properly with the lack of funds and whatnot. Anyway, just go over there, they should have it.”

“Thanks,” she nods, and heads for the next room over.

Tyrion goes back to his bibliography and hears her moving around a while later, until she sits again and drops a stack of ten books on her side of the table.

He smiles a little to himself and keeps on with his work -

“Hey,” she whispers again, “uh, again, sorry for having been an ass.”

“That’s fine,” he says, “I get why -”

“And I was wondering,” she goes on, “can I apologize buying you coffee at the faculty bar or wherever?”

What the fuck.

He doesn’t fall off the chair just because he’s sticking very close to the table.

“Uhm,” he says, turning to her, “sure, I mean, I’d love it, but are you sure - you don’t have to thank me or anything -”

She smiles a bit, blushing slightly. “Oh, I don’t do anything I don’t want. And I am perfectly capable of asking people if I can buy them coffee.”

He feels himself smiling back. Maybe she doesn’t know who he is or maybe she knows and doesn’t care... but she doesn’t look like she’s pulling his leg.

“Sure,” he says. “And how do I call you? I’m Tyrion.”

“Sansa,” she says, shaking his hand. “When we take a morning break then.”

“Absolutely,” he nods, and when he goes back to his thesis, he is smiling to himself.

When he sneaks a look at her... he sees she’s smiling still, too.

Well.

He thinks he’ll enjoy this coffee very much. And maybe if it goes well he could buy her another himself.

[gloves94]

To Be So Lonely [Draco Malfoy] 2

Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Draco Malfoy/OC Chapter warnings: Abuse!

Raised as an orphan, Nel Saintday, endured years of torture from the Slytherin House. The Dark Lord only allowed her existence for her to serve a very specific vile purpose for him. Her birthright dictates for her to choose a side in the Wizarding War… But what would happen if she dares defy the Dark Lord and his wishes? And what happens when she falls for her tormentor? Will Nel fulfill her life’s purpose? And what side will her tormentor, Draco Malfoy, choose? The light that calls to him or the darkness…

CHAPTER MASTERLIST MY MASTERLIST

1 9 9 1

"Oi! You said you'd give me five quid for it!" A young girl accused with a stern expression at an older boy. "A quid per pound."

This had not been a fair deal.

The boy wore a smug expression on his fox like face. On one hand he weighted a fat paper bag filled with Dairy Milk chocolate bars and Maltesers amongst other chocolatey goods. The rest of his squad, all just as tall and hulking  snickered as they greedily ate the candy.

"I said five quid per pound of quality candy, this is all rubbish. Besides, I hate chocolate! You get squat Dots." He laughed loudly before chewing on a mouthful of chocolate bars.

"But you're still eating it!" She pointed upset.

The group laughed cruelly.

"You better give me my money Nico!" She threatened both fists clenched at her side, eyebrows furrowed into a scowl.

"Or what?" He huffed towering over the eleven-year-old poking her chest. "What are you going to do about it?" He challenged pushing her. "Go and cry to Ms. Wool about it?" He pushed her to the ground, and she fell back to the pavement on her behind glaring at the bullies. She should've really thought this out more thoroughly.

"Just you wait-" She growled out rolling up her sleeves, looking as menacing as she could.

It was then that a startled look crossed Nico's face. He turned white. "Let's get out of here!" His friend slapped the other on the chest and looking terrified as the three scrambled away quickly even dropping the bag of candy on the alley way.

"Ha!" She bounced to her feet triumphantly.

Yeah! That'll show them!

It was then that she felt a strong grip seize her shoulder.

Uh-Oh

Her legs moved but she felt an object come down hard on her shoulder. She spat a curse and looked over her shoulder to see Mr. Cowell, the owner of the General Store she had just stolen candy from, and the bitter old man did not look pleased. His black cane buried on her arm.

"Oh! You're going nowhere this time you scantly thief!" He pulled her to him and grabbed her shoulder with his hand.

Head sunken low, he walked her back to where she came from. All the way grumbling and muttering insults and curses.

"Should've known you were up to no good, same as always," he muttered more to himself before ringing the doorbell of the old building.

Ms. Wool opened the door. A plump woman with a pig's face that always seemed to be wearing the dreaded color pink. A cloud of gagging  perfume usually wafted around the middle-aged woman. Her face immediately morphed into a deep scowl that made her fat bottom lip stick out.

"Can't let you out of my sight, can I?" She glowered at the girl.

"Caught her with her sticky fingers looting my candy jars this time," the upset man pushed her forward making her stumble towards the entrance of the orphanage.

"Oh Phil," Ms. Wool shook her head slightly before digging into a coin purse. "What's the damage this time?"

"'S just candy Cordelia," The old man said gruffly leaning on his cane dismissing her offer. "'Ust make sure this one 'ere stays out of my store!" He pointed his cane at the girl's chest making her inch back.

Ms. Wool's sharp hands sank into her shoulders as she apologized to the store owner and brought the girl inside of the orphanage. Nel didn't feel her stomach sink until the door closed.

"Can't let you out of my sight, can I? You little thieving tyke!" Ms. Wood's polished hand reached for the girl's ear and she angrily pulled on it as she dragged her away into her hellish office. Other children that lived in the home laughed and pointed as they saw the much familiar scene unfold before them. Ms. Wool's office was a damp place, colored in warm pastel shades and drying flowers with floors and ceilings from the 1910's the time when Wool's Orphanage had originally been built.

"I'm not scared of you!" She declared stupidly. "Oh, you should be! You stupid girl!" Wool scolded. "I've had it up to here with you!" She crossed an arm over her forehead. "I've tried being nice, I've tried being patient. Seems like this is the only way you'll understand." She said opening a door next to her office and tossing her in. "In the Chokey you go!"

The door slammed on her nose.

The Chokey was a narrow cupboard that was filled with broken glass sticking out of the walls with nails on the door. It was a place of utter terror that the mere threat of it was enough to make children tremble in fright and fall straight into line. The cupboard was so narrow you couldn't sit or squat in it without being hurt. Sometimes kids were kept here for hours. Nel presently had the record for the longest lock in having been kept in for a whole day. Something she was awfully proud of and she felt gave her some pomp and superiority over the other children in the home.

"Let me out of here you wretched witch!" She shouted at the door bending her hand on a glass free spot on the door.

"You will stay in there until you finally learn your lesson! Even if its tomorrow!"

She heard a door slam signaling that Wool had exited her office.

Nel stood in the dark room. Eyes peeled; angry fists clenched at the sides. All she had wanted to do was to make some money to buy some art supplies for her own. After all she was an orphan, not possessing a single penny to her name. It wasn't fair. No matter how hard she tried to hold on to any material possession - every time she got something, anything nice be it a candy bar, socks or a sweater, the gift was usually always picked away by the older, stronger kids in the home. Sometimes she wondered what her life would've been like if she hadn't been dumped in this doldrum.

Nel stayed locked up for hours. Her bored eyes attempted to find shapes in the darkness through a strained vision. Scratching a nail against the door's paint she attempted to carve her name into it as she carefully calculated and planned her next scheme to make money. Perhaps she could scam some local kids into buying pet rocks or swindle them into some equally ridiculous scam. She made a mental note to next time make Nico and his goons pay her before engaging in business with him.

That was until the door opened. The light momentarily blinded her.

"There you are!" A younger voice spoke and the eleven-year-old was brought into a warm embrace. "Are you okay? If you know that Nico Shaffer and his gang are going to do you dirty why do you keep hanging out with them?" Lucy, Nel's absolutely favorite person in the world, said holding on to her arms with care.

Lucy was only a couple of years older than Nel. The young girl couldn't remember a time in which anybody else that had ever cared for her. Certainly not Ms. Wool. The girl was more of an older sister than just a fellow housemate.

"I have to show 'em who's the boss around here," Nel said with a huff before sticking her hand into her pocket and handing her friend some candy. "I got you some Whoopers," she grinned handing over her friend the candy.

"Sometimes I think you enjoy setting off Ms. Wool," Lucy shook her head and regardless took the candy and pocketed with a smile.

"Only sometimes," the girl smiled cheekily.

The two girls made out of the office quickly hand in hand.

"Stealing is wrong Nel. Don't do it again." the older one scolded to deaf ears that would most definitely do it again. "What did you even want that money for?"

"I wanted to buy some paint. You know? So that I could paint my walls."

"Your walls or Wool's walls?" the Lucy rolled her eyes knowing that the young girl would probably paint a splash or horrendous colors in the cafeteria which would mortify matron. "You know Ms. Wool would most definitely not allow that."

The younger one smirked slightly having been caught in her mischievous plan to bring some life into the dull building. "We practically live in a jail Luce, it's not fair. Maybe just- maybe some color would make everybody's day better? It was for the greater good!"

"Hey Nel! Heard you stole some candy from old man Cowell!" A younger boy called from the corridor. Enjoying the attention, the girl turned and threw a candy at him "You bet!"

"Stop it! You're going to get in more trouble," Lucy slapped her hand as they  reached the small room were the young girl was kept to herself. Nel didn't care. That boy owed her now. She'd think of what favor she'd bug him with later. Maybe she'd ask him for his bread if she was ever locked up without dinner again.

Her room had once been the laundry room and broom and storage, but a bed had been added for the girl to sleep in. She slept there alone, mainly for the safety of others… You see, weirdthings tended to happen around the girl -

"Ms. Wool!" A loud sing song voice called. "Nel still has some candy and is keeping it to herself!" A most pesky snitch alarmed loudly.

Both girls turned to glare at Aisha by far Wool's favorite and a total kiss ass. Always wearing pink in an attempt to please their matron.

"Shut your mouth Aisha or I'll shut it for you!" The other shouted angrily from across the corridor.

It was then that Wool came stomping by from around the corner.

"SAINTDAY!" She bellowed her surname angrily. Her eyes scanned the corridor for the young girl before focusing on her. "Ah, there you are!" Her eyes turned into slits.

Aisha smirked looking pleased with herself.

Nel shrunk a little, hiding behind Lucy. She was bracing herself for the scold that would come from exiting the chokey when she saw that a tall man with a long white beard and peculiar lavender robes was trailing behind the wide matron.

Ms. Wool sank her hand into Nel's lower arm and dragged the girl inside of the small room, the man tailing behind entered as well. Lucy was locked out; she hung her shoulders lingering around ready to press her ear against the door. What a most peculiar looking man…  She thought to herself.

Wool knowingly stuck her head out before Lucy pressed her ear against the door and barked at her to get lost which sent the fourteen-year-old skulking away.

Back inside Wool turned her attention to the brunette. "What have you done now you wicked child?" She glared hands on hips demanding an answer.

"I did nothing, swear!" She said innocently raising up her hands looking at the older man with the half-moon glasses with an innocent expression.

Albus Dumbledore looked at the expression on the child's face that was sitting in the small bed. Despite the pout on her face there was an air of mischief that made him aware that he should know better when trusting her. It had been decades since the last time he had been to Wool's Orphanage. The last time had been under similar circumstances instead visiting a student with the last name Riddle.

"You will apologize to the man and tell me what you did!" Wool knelt and pinched the tender part of the girl's arm making her painfully hiss at the sensation.

"That is enough Ms. Wool," Dumbledore said sternly glaring at the Muggle woman.

"I am here on official school business," the man with the twinkling eyes said stroking his beard. "My name is Albus Dumbledore, I am the Headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardly and I have come to personally deliver Ms. Saintday her letter of acceptance."

"School of wizzah which what?" Wool cocked her head at an angle and narrowed her eyes in mistrust.

She took the letter from the man eyeing the parchment sealed with an official wax stamp with wary eyes. Nel never received any mail. As far as she knew there was nobody outside of the orphanage that would write to her.

Miss E. Saintday, Laundry Room, Wool's Orphanage, London.

Blinking twice she ripped the envelope open. Curiously reading the contents of the green letter head.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY Underneath was the Headmasters name. Followed by an acceptance, instructions for admission and a list of texts and materials that would be required by the school. The letter was signed by the Deputy Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, in a curvy signature.

Nel hadn't even bothered to listen to what Wool was bickering about with the Headmaster.

"Is this real?" She asked the man with her eyes growing wide. "This is not a joke is it?"

"As real as you and I Ms. Saintday," The man smiled down at her kindly.

The man who had introduced himself as Albus Dumbledore explained that there was another world which was unknown to, to regular or non-magic people that were called Muggles and the Nel was a witch. A powerful being capable of magical powers. He explained this was all extremely secretive and that nobody must or should know. He explained that Hogwarts was a most prestigious school and the Wizarding School of the UK were most witches and wizards attended for seven years to earn their education.

"You don't want this one I'm telling you!" Wool suddenly laughed loudly. "She's brought me nothing but trouble since the day she was left in my doorstep!" Nel ignored her with a glare. "Set my curtains on fire, once somehow made a student magically appear on the roof, made my teapots sing! Summoned snakes out of cookie jars! Lightbulbs explode around her! All sorts of devilish things! I know she bullies the other kids. I don't know how she does it, I just haven't caught her yet. And school-" She laughed woefully. "Not a single knot or bolt in this one's empty head."  She knocked on the back of her head, which made the girl rub the sore spot. She turned to look at the Headmaster with fearful eyes. Would he withdraw his invitation now that he knew this?

"I believe I myself once set fire to my dorm's curtains. An atrocious shade of red. Accidentally of course," he smiled once again which brought some comfort to the orphan.

"Forget about it!" Wool exclaimed getting ready to exit the room. "I'm not going to fork a single penny over so that this one can go to a fancy boarding school to learn how to pull rabbits out of a hat!"

"I assure you that money will not be a problem Ms. Wool. There is a special fund set aside to assist students with financial needs. Of course, Ms. Saintday will have to maintain an outstanding average to maintain this scholarship."

"Ha! That's a lost cause," Wool huffed humorlessly.

She was ignored. The older Wizard stood up and met the girls' dark brown eyes. Eyes that to him seemed distantly familiar.

"So, what do you say Elowen? although I believe you go by Nel," he inquired.

"What do I say?" She repeated. If anybody had asked her what she really thought, she would've said this entire thing was a hoax. Maybe this funny looking man was actually a child napper, but anywhere was better than Wool's. However, he did not seem harmful, not like the type of man to be vile or malicious. "Of course!" She jumped to her feet. Worst case scenario Wool had always warned her that if she was ever kidnapped that the kidnappers would have to pay her a ransom to take her back.

"Very well then," Dumbledore bowed slightly at Wool. It was then that he pulled out a wand from inside of his long shimmering sleeves. He turned to her little belongings and flicked his wand opening a suite case and made all of the clothes, shoes and other little objects leapt in, in a neatly folded manner.

Nel's mouth gaped a jar at the magic in fascination. Wool looked terrified.

"It's real!" She exclaimed with disbelief.

"I'll be waiting for you at the entrance Ms. Saintday, so that you may bid your goodbyes and gather other belongings," he said as he headed towards the exit. "Wait!" Nel stopped him tugging on the back of his robe. "Can my friend Lucy come with us to? She's brilliant, much better student than I am!" She pleaded.

The man stopped and looked back at her kindly with his twinkling eyes.

"Nel," he began. "I'm afraid that Hogwarts is real for us, but it is not real for Ms. Bonilla," he began to explain. Somehow already knowing Lucy's last name. "Ms. Bonilla is a Muggle, and only witches and wizards can attend or see the school."

"But-" She pleaded. "Can you make an exception? She'll work hard I promise!"

Dumbledore placed a hand on the girl's head. "I'm afraid not child," he rested his hand there for a moment before vanishing into thin air.

Nel looked at the ground sadly. What would she do? She couldn't leave Lucy behind like that.

"Don't look so sullen," Wool's voice suddenly made her snap out of her thoughts. "You'll be back soon. I give it a day before that man is back begging me to take you back from who knows where," she said sticking her nose up in the air. "Very well then, say your goodbyes, Ta-ta." She clapped her hands and pushed her out of the room.

She looked at the austere corridors and the dirty floors recording them all into her memory. She would've really loved to splash them with some bold greens and yellows just to bring some life to this decadent place. Ms. Wool passed her in the hallway.

"Clown's come to take you back to the circus?" A voice called from one end of the corridor making her head snap in the direction. "'About time Freak Show," It was Aisha and Alf, two other members of the house who frequently taunted Nel.

"At least I'm getting out of here unlike the likes of you!" She shot back.

"At least we weren't abandoned here. Even your own parents didn't want your wart-face," Aisha laughed cruelly.

Nel stayed silent. That one hurt. The fact that she was an unwanted child hurt her more than she would ever let on. After all most kids living at Wool's belonged to parents that had lost custody of them, had been deported or had even passed away. Nel had been one of the few that had willingly been surrendered at an abbey's doorstep without a single hint or clue of who she was.

The day she was found they sought for records of her or the people who could be her parents yet found none. She was named by a Cornish nun and given the surname Saintday having been symbolically found on November 1st, All Saints Day.

"Yeah, nobody's going to miss your ugly spotted face 'round here," Aisha stuck out her tongue making a reference to the dotted beauty marks that marked the girl's face; which was considerably her most striking feature. She had managed to count at least ten of them. The marks were scattered in the figure of something, but she didn't know exactly what it was.

Angry she rolled up the sleeves of her black jumper.

"Want a souvenir so you don't miss me too much?" She threatened with a raised fist.

She was about to walk forward and put the bullies in her place when two hands reached and turned her around.

"Is it true?" It was Lucy kneeling down to her level to meet her eye. "That you're leaving?" Her dark eyes were wide with concern.

Nel looked down, almost in shame avoiding Lucy's eyes. "I know it's sudden, but I've been accepted to a school in Scotland. That funny looking man, he's come to take me," she wanted to tell Lucy she was a witch. Wanted to explain what it meant, but the vow of secrecy kept her from doing it. "But- I'm not sure if I want to go," she said feeling a sudden emptiness inside her. "You won't be there-"

"Nonsense!" She exclaimed. "You're going."

"I asked if you could come but he said no!"

"Doesn't matter," Lucy smiled at her encouragingly. "Just promise you'll call. Yeah?"

With her eyes brimming with rare tears Nel nodded and hugged her tightly. "Go," Lucy ushered her off. "Make the best of it, learn and most importantly be good Elowen Saintday."

The girls beamed at each other. "I'll see you during the holidays!" The younger one cried.  She didn't know what she would do without Lucy.

"Oh," Ms. Wool crowed looking down at the troublemaker. "You'll be back," she added smugly. It seemed like the woman was getting ready to enjoy the peace and quiet that would come. For now, Elowen Saintday would be somebody else's problem.

xxxxx

STARRING THE ORIGINAL CAST OF THE HARRY POTTER SERIES with ADAM DRIVER as SEVERUS SNAPE

Xxxxx

AN: Any "To Protect" fans out there? Shoutout to you!

[kinglazrus]

The Haunting of Danny Fenton

Chapter Three: Second Time’s the Charm

Word count: 2246 | [ffn] [ao3] | [previous] [next]

Valerie lied. Contrary to her memory, before this day she has met one solitary Fenton face-to-face on exactly one occasion. That occasion was her first day of high school freshman year. As part of an orientation process at Casper High, all freshmen started school one day early. They got to drift from class to class, familiarizing themselves with the hallways, getting used to their lockers, and meeting their teachers in what was meant to be a low-pressure environment.

The principal, Ms. Ishiyama, believed having the building to themselves for one day would help relieve that first-day anxiety, especially without all the older students looming over their small, fragile bodies once school began for real. Some of the freshmen appreciated this. Valerie thought it was stupid. But whatever. They didn't do any work, only got a rundown of what to expect from their first year of high school.

The focal point of this orientation was the student assembly at the end of the day. To make things go more smoothly, the students had been called into the gym in alphabetical order, by surname. Students A to B. Students C to D. Students E to F. Students G to H.

By complete happenstance, Daniel Fenton, who had been in the bathroom when his letter group was called, ended up at the back of the line for E to F students. Valerie Gray, who was no slouch despite being spoiled most of her life, moved quick enough to be first in line for all G to H students. It took ten minutes for all the students A through Z—Martin Zachary, the only Z in school—to get settled. By then, Danny and Valerie had already been sitting side by side for six awkward minutes.

Awkward for Danny because he thought Valerie was very pretty, and he was very not. Awkward for Valerie because some weird boy kept glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, and she did not appreciate his attention. No words passed between them for the entirety of the assembly. It was only when Principal Ishiyama finished her thirty-minute speech about the impending doom that was their high school careers that Danny finally got the courage to speak.

As the gym filled with the sound of stomping feet, students pounding their way down the bleachers, eager to head home at last, Danny lurched to his feet, stuck out his hand, and said, "I'm Danny."

Valerie tossed her hair over her shoulder and replied, "Not interested."

The next day at school, Danny did not attend. Two weeks later, his parents officially dropped him out of Casper High. Three weeks after that, his name and face were plastered across newspapers all over the country. Young Daniel Fenton, only fourteen, victim to a tragic accident and a terrible disease. You can't blame Valerie for not connecting the Danny she brushed off her first day of school with the boy whose name she would later learn and never forget. Before his accident, there was nothing remarkable about Danny Fenton.

Now, however, he cuts a striking image.

Danny lounges in the armchair across from Valerie, flanked on either side by his parents. He props his chin on his fist and drums the fingers of his other hand on the opposite armrest. In the back of her mind, Valerie thinks all he needs is a gun and he can be a mafioso from an old film. One flick of his finger and he can sentence her to death.

The image is ruined by his abundant frailty. Thin wrists she can snap in one fist, long bony fingers, hollow cheeks. He looks like a skeleton brought back to life rather than a boy edging closer to death. There's a slim difference between the two, but it's significant enough that Valerie finds one more apt than the other. His ashen skin and the green bruises around his eyes only further cement her opinion.

Perhaps a mafioso is the wrong comparison. Perhaps he reminds her more of the grim reaper, here to steal her soul.

"You don't look that different," Danny says. Even his voice is fragile, moments away from giving out.

"I'm sorry?" Valerie asks, taken aback.

"From high school. You're older, obviously, but you look the same."

Valerie presses her lips together, unsure of how to respond. Lying seems like the best option. Laugh, brush off the comment, then move on to the logistics of her stay. Maybe pepper in a quick word that Danny's changed a lot since then. Unless that would be rude. She waits too long, though, letting the seconds tick by as she flounders.

Danny's eyes widen in realization. He smiles at her, tight-lipped and resigned. "You don't remember me."

Valerie purses her lips and shakes her head.

"But you know who I am."

"Of course."

His smile slips into something more sardonic. "I guess you're interested now."

Valerie, realizing she's being mocked but not understanding why, scowls. It's bad form to cuss out her clients, but she wants to right now. Two minutes with Danny Fenton and he's already getting on her nerves. That takes special skill not many people have.

To her right, Tucker snickers. So far, he's stayed silent at the edge of the room, leaning against the wall. Not a Fenton but not a stranger. The grim reaper's right-hand man. The display of loyalty, subtle, almost imperceptible if not for how Tucker watches Danny like a hawk, is jarring. Valerie never would have thought the boy who chased a different girl each week had a loyal bone in his body. Apparently, he has one, and only one, for Danny Fenton.

Cutting through the awkward air, Valerie turns to Danny's parents. "When do you leave?"

Danny rolls his eyes, obviously unimpressed with the transparent deflection.

"Tomorrow," Maddie says, obliging Valerie. "We'll be back next Wednesday. Tonight, we want to show you the setup we've been using recently. It helps us measure how strong the Shade's presence is." She steps away from Danny's chair. Jack follows, both of them heading for the hall. "But that's for later. I'll be getting dinner started now. Octavia should have brought your bag to the guest room while we were in the warehouse. Tucker can show you where it is."

"What about..." Valerie trails off as Maddie and Jack leave the room, glancing at Danny.

"Oh, no. I love this chair. My favourite spot in the whole house." Danny sinks lower in his seat, kicking one leg up on the armrest. "I will chair-ish it for the rest of my days."

Valerie blinks. "Did you just–"

"Come on." Tucker hauls Valerie up by her elbow and drags her away.

"Sorry my jokes don't sit well with you!" Danny calls after them.

Tucker doesn't let go of Valerie's arm until they reach the foot of the stairs, well out of Danny's sight. She can still hear Danny muttering angrily, and Maddie and Jack shuffling about in the kitchen.

"Okay, first rule." Tucker takes off his beanie and runs his hand through his hair, which is longer than Valerie thought it would be, and curlier. "Don't agitate Danny."

"Agitate him?" Valerie whispers, her voice hissing between her teeth. "I barely talked to him. If anything, he agitated me."

Tucker shakes his head. "He puns more when he's agitated."

"'Puns' isn't a verb."

"It is now. Just, don't agitate him, okay? He'll get all worked up and then..." A muffled, wet cough punctuates Tucker's statement. He gestures emphatically, a silent I told you so. "The guest room is to the right, at the end of the hall. I need to help Danny."

Valerie crosses her arms and watches him leave. If he can't even tell her how she agitated Danny, then he doesn't get to make her feel guilty about it. He doesn't. He doesn't. Another hoarse cough rings out, the kind that tears at your throat and leaves it raw and aching. Valerie swallows, shuddering at the phantom sensation in her own throat.

She dithers on the stairs, uncertain. There's nothing for her to feel guilty about. Danny got himself worked up. Whatever he remembers that Valerie doesn't, it's not her fault. Their interaction must have been so minuscule for her not to recall it. Anyone else would have forgotten it. But Danny hadn't.

In Valerie's defence, it had been a short, meaningless exchange that anyone could forget. Not even a whole conversation, a mere sentence and a half passing between them. The first of many hollow conversations she would have over the next four years. But for Danny, it was his last high school experience. And you can't fault him for clinging to that final shred of normalcy when his life pitched into the deep end of abnormal not even four hours later.

But Valerie couldn't possibly know all that. So she sighs at the unfairness of it all, turns on her heels, and heads back toward the living room with an apology on her lips. A soft murmur stops her in her tracks inches before she steps into view.

"Your jokes are getting sloppy," Tucker says.

"There are only so many quality chair puns in existence, man. Cut me some slack," Danny answers, voice gruffer than before.

"I couldn't chair less."

"Ugh. I hate you."

"Shut up, you love me."

A moment of silence.

Danny clears his throat. "Yeah. I should text Sam."

"I don't think she's got service in Peru. Besides, she's getting home in a few days."

Valerie racks her brain for a moment, pondering whether she knows who they mean. Surprisingly, she does. Samantha Manson, another former classmate of hers, like Tucker. Last Valerie heard, Sam is backpacking in South America.

"I know. But it'd be nice, wouldn't it? For her to find that when she's done. Just in case." Danny's voice goes quiet at the end. Valerie's stomach flips at those despondent words, dismay seizing her. Evidently, there is more to Danny's situation than anyone has told her thus far.

"Don't be so fatalistic, man." A weak attempt at humour. Tucker's voice carries a strained hint of laughter.

"Damn it, Tucker, I'm being realistic!" Danny shouts.

In the kitchen, Maddie and Jack go silent. The whole house holds its breath following Danny's outburst. Now more than ever Valerie feels like she's intruding on a private moment, not just between Danny and Tucker, but the household at large. The wall, cold at her back, leaches the warmth from her splayed fingers. The very air bears down on her. She doesn't believe in household spirits, not the way some people do, where they treat a place with dignity, breathing life into inanimate walls and acting like it carries a soul. But, as silence rings out through the hall, she senses the house rejecting her, trying to push her out of this painfully intimate moment.

The strained atmosphere shatters when something clangs in the kitchen. The oppressive feeling vanishes. Valerie releases a breath she held for far too long and slumps against the wall. She presses a hand against her chest, trying to calm her beating heart. The Shade hasn't even shown up yet and she's already on edge.

Too busy trying to mollify her nerves—damn combative instincts, damn house—she doesn’t hear the sound of dragging footsteps until Danny shuffles around the corner. He falters when their eyes meet.

"Enjoying yourself?" Danny hisses, quiet enough that only Valerie can hear him. He brushes past her before she can reply, hobbling toward the stairs. As he passes the entrance to the kitchen, he raps his knuckles on the frame, grabbing his parents' attention. "I'm going to my room. I'm not hungry."

Jack pokes his head out the door and frowns. "You sure?"

Danny waves over his shoulder, his hand so delicate it gives the impression it can shatter at a moment's notice. A gentle breeze can rattle his bones, Valerie's sure of it.

Jack turns back into the kitchen, catching Valerie's eye along the way. He studies her a moment, his stern demeanour once again contradicting the jovial attitude Valerie knows him for. It feels like a test. If she passes, Valerie can't tell. Jack simply nods at her and ducks completely out of sight.

Knowing when she's been dismissed, Valerie heads up the stairs. She overtakes Danny, who has only made it halfway up, and reaches the landing. Remembering Tucker's instructions, Valerie turns right and seeks out the last door. As promised, her suitcase is already inside, sitting at the foot of the bed.

A loud slap has Valerie looking back before she can close the door. She spies Danny finally at the top of the stairs, leaning heavily on the bannister, one hand gripping the newel post. Hunching over, he holds his throat and coughs, another painful hack. This time, she doesn't make any move to help him. She closes her door as quietly as possible and turns to her suitcase. Some might think her callous for such a heartless display, but she knows she's the last person Danny wants help from. He's too proud, like her, and would rather suffer in silence than accept assistance from someone he doesn't care for.

A bleak, dispirited frown settles on her lips. She and Danny seem to have three things in common so far: self-destructive pride, a strong disdain for one another, and the grim acceptance that Danny Fenton is not long for this world.

[birdsandspades]

I Was Never Good at Waiting (Sugawara X Reader) Chapter 5

- It was your last year in highschool, everything had been going smoothly until you got assigned the new teacher. Sugawara Koushi was handsome, maybe too handsome for his own good. Be he wasn't flirting with you right, teachers shouldn't do that....I guess we will see where this year goes.

Word Count - 3,093

----

You started off Wednesday pretty excited, the relationship that was blooming with Sugawara was enough alone to make you skip the entire way to school. 

“You're peppy today.” Hiroto smiled as you danced around him. 

“What's got you so chipper?” Yua was looking over you with concern. “Did something bite you last night? Are you going through changes? Is your new super power mood swings?” She lifted your arm, examining it for marks.

“I don’t know, I guess i’m just excited for class.” You glared, ripping your arm out of her hands.

“Yeah she's definitely caught something.” Hiroto laughed as Yua wiggled her eyebrows.

“It wouldn’t happen to be…” She leaned in close to you, hands resting on your shoulders. “for Yoshiki hmm?” She turned you towards the boy waiting by your classroom door.

He waved as you made eye contact before making his way towards you. “Hey, I went to buy apple juice this morning and an extra one fell out. I figured I would bring it to you!” His smile was soft, sweet even as he handed you the extra carton.

“Thank you.” You took the juice, turned it over in your hand before offering him a smile.

“Well I'm gonna go to class, but enjoy it!” He smiled at your friends, waving a goodbye before walking off down the hallway. 

You knew it was silly, Yoshiki was an absolute catch. He was a star athlete, incredibly handsome, smart, and funny. He had caught plenty of girls' interests, but just not yours.

Your eyes were instead fixed on the man sitting at the front of the classroom. His attention was turned to a small brown book in his hands. Reaching for the coffee mug beside him you watched as his lips molded to the hard ceramic, pulling away you noticed the residual shine leftover from the chapstick he had put on prior. He thumbed to the next page before gently sliding his reading glasses back up the bridge of his nose. 

Seeing him was enough to make your heart tremble. It was a crazy thought, that you liked your teacher, maybe even going as far as to call him your crush. It was wrong, you didn’t doubt that. You tried to push the thoughts away, you probably could have tried harder now that you thought about it. It had only been two day, two whole days with him in your life. It would have been easy to ignore those stupid feelings, to be friendly and go about the year. Soon enough you would graduate and you would never see him again. You could live with that, it would eventually have become a silly story to tell your friends.

“Remember Sugawara-sensei? Yeah I had a huge crush on him, how silly right?” They would laugh, you would laugh, it would end with that. 

It would have ended like that, but he had given you some semblance of hope last night.

Your mind burned with the feeling of his hand cupping your face, you wished you had leaned into the warmth of it while it lasted. It kept you up all night. The thoughts of every little insignificant thing he had done, the small words, the quick looks, the tiny details. Those alone were enough for you to at least explore the dynamics between you two further. 

“Good morning Sugawara-sensei.” You chirped as you made your way to his desk. You waited for him to peak up at you, those soft hazel eyes showing through his long lashes. 

“Good morning L/N-san, did you finish your homework?” He kept his eyes on his book as he flipped to the next page. 

Your classmates made their ways to their respected seats as the morning bells rang. You looked around in confusion as everyone quieted down, leaving you standing at the side of his desk. 

He handed you the roll call sheet and closed his book. “Take the attendance please.” His gaze set behind you as he made his way to the chalkboard to write down the morning meeting points. 

You ticked off the names of the present students before setting the papers on top of his closed book.“It’s on the desk sensei.” You lingered next to the desk, grasking at the opportunity to see his smile.

“Ok, go take your seat now.” He had turned around now, eyes glazing over you as he looked around the room. 

“Maybe he’s having a rough day.” You pondered as you took your seat. 

The class period continued the same, his usually vibrant outlook on life had faded for the day. 

You waited your turn for college counseling as he called up your classmates one at a time. You were usually the last to be called in these instances. You carried your father's english surname as opposed to the rest of your class who spelled their names in classic kanji, because of this you were always listed last. You watched his last student walk back to their desk and you knew your name was next. You gathered your materials and waited for your name to be called, instead he disappeared into his office leaving you without an ounce of his time. 

Soon the bell rang, and the next teacher walked into the classroom.“ He must have left out his office door, it must be a busy day for him.”  You grasped at reasons for the stark chance of attitude, anything to push down the slow aching building in your chest.

By the time he returned for your science period his attitude had changed. His bright and sunny demeanor shined though as he answered questions and wrote the day's notes on the board. You would have sworn you imagined the morning if he hadn’t avoided your eyes the entire class as well. 

Soon the day ended and classroom cleaning started. As the last students left for the day you made your way to his office door. You knocked lightly and waited for an invitation.

“Come in.” His voice was barely audible from the other side.

You turned the knob and stepped inside, closing the door slightly as you walked to his desk. “Hi sensei, how was your day?” You smiled, teetering on your heels.

Sugawara didn’t answer, instead he typed out something on his computer. His fingers angrily digging into the space bar as he worked.

 “Um, well we didn’t have time for my college counseling so I figured I would see if you were free now?” Your rocking stopped as his face dropped.

“I didn’t feel we needed it today. Did you apply for any scholarships last night like I suggested?” He again looked past you to the clock on the wall.

“No senpai, you had told me you would make me a list of ones to look into. So I want to wait for you to…” You chewed at your lip nervously, unsure why he was so upset with you.

His eyes flicked to you as his brow furrowed. “I think you're fully capable of looking for yourself.” He looked back to his computer, glaring at the screen. “It's time for you to go to practice, I don’t have time today to explain to your coach why you're late again.” He spat out the last word, his eyes focused on his hands.

You were taken aback by his brashness. The indifference was one thing, but to be so openly bitter was another. You left without another word, slamming his door behind you. You were on the verge of tears as you walked to practice. You didn’t have a reason to be so openly upset at him, he was nice now he wasn't. It was your own fault for getting so attached to him, someone you hardly knew. 

----

During the next two week his attitude only got worse. He was openly hostile with you in class, going as far as to ignore your questions entirely. If you persisted to ask him he would simply tell you to pay better attention to his teachings the first time. 

Tutoring lessons were just as disma. He would set you down in the classroom alone with your work while he remained in his office. At the end of the lessons you would simply hand in your extra work for him to grade and leave on your desk the following morning. 

Because of this you stopped showing up. What's the point of missing extra practice to do work by yourself, he wasn’t even answering your questions at this point. He didn’t even bother to talk to you about them in class. He clearly didn’t care one way or the other. Today was the third tutoring session you had chosen to skip, opting to take the extra time to practice with your team instead. 

You were halfway through practice when the gym door opened. The thick metal echoing around the gym as it shut.

“Sugawara, did you decide to come back to practice with us after all?” Irihata glanced at him before continuing the digging exercises. 

“No, I need to see F/N L/N.” His glare rested on you as he motioned for you to come over to him.

You gathered your bags and jogged over to him , shrugging at your confused team member. You stopped in front of him, tilting your head. “You need me sensei?” 

He placed a hand on your shoulder, tightening his grip as he walked you out of the gym and to the classroom. Once inside he slid the door shut and turned to face you, his soft features hardened as his eyes fell on yours. “Three days, you've wasted three days of my time having me wait for you to show up for your tutoring sessions. Why are you not showing up?” 

You met his glare, upset by his uncalled for attitude. “Because you're not helping me with any of my work sensei, I felt like it was a waste of both of our time.” You spat the honorific at him, right now he didn’t deserve your respect. 

“Do you not know how to communicate with me? Do you think I wanted to use my free time to tutor you in a subject I'm not even teaching you?” He threw his hands up, gritting his teeth. 

 You looked away, clenching your fists. You couldn’t hold his heated gaze any longer, the hot anger was slowly dissolving into something harder to control.

“Answer me L/N.” He was stern, like a parent reprimanding a child.

“I didn’t want to talk to you sensei! You ignore me everytime I do so what's the point?”Trying to find a release for whatever was bubbling up you dug your nails into your soft palm. 

“Are you a child? Did no one teach you to use your words?” Sugawara was now yelling, he couldn’t hold back his frustration any longer. 

“A child? You're the one who is acting like a child sensei! You were so nice when I met you, and…” You choked on a sob, fighting with words you wanted to say. “and, in the nurse's office…” You couldn’t finish the statement. “But now you're so rude! You ignore me all day, you won’t help me with my classwork, you treat me like i'm stupid in front of the class when I ask a question. If anyone is acting like a child it's you!” Everything boiled over as hot tears rolled down your cheeks. “What was the point if you were just going to lead me on like that?” Your voice was nothing more than a whisper, stuck deep in your throat.

You gathered your belongings and left, you had nothing left to say. Your anger was spent, you felt stupid and irrational for even indulging in your feelings for him. He was right, you were childish. Only a kid would get a crush on their teacher.

You slammed the door behind you, walking down the empty hallway. 

He had wanted to go after you, explain to you why he had to act the way he did. He wanted to tell you how he felt, how he had been interested in you for so long. But it was no longer his place.

When he had seen you at the coffee shop months ago, he was taken aback. You were perfect. His friends had urged him to ask for your number, it was after all the sixth time he had dragged them to the shop that summer just so he could see you again.

He had at one point built up enough courage to talk to you. His intentions set on asking you on a date. But when he made his way to the counter and he saw your smile, directed only at him for the first time. He froze, you were so close to him, yet you felt miles apart. He knew words could bridge the gap.

 “Can I have a napkin?” How stupid, he had his chance and that's what he said. 

He went back a few more times, hoping to pluck up that same courage. He had even written out his name and number on a piece of paper beforehand. But you didn’t come back. 

Imagine his surprise to see you sitting in his class on his first day of school. 

“A fucking high school student, she's a fucking high school student?” It could have been the worst day of his life, but when he saw that smile again. Well he knew he was screwed, absolutely whipped for you. 

He could wait it out until you graduated, it was only a school year after all. But you were so sweet to him, the chemistry just happened. He had given up on the hope of waiting that day in the nurse's office. 

You were so small and fragile, crying over a nosebleed. He couldn't help himself, he just had to touch you, to comfort you, so he did. Your face fit so perfectly into his palm, he wished he could  have held you longer, but it was wrong and he knew it. Oikawa only confirmed that feeling. 

What would everyone think, a student dating her teacher. The ridicule would go on well into your adulthood, and he didn’t want to cause that kind of pain for you.  

So he tried to ignore you, and the feelings. He knew how hard it was going to be. All it would take was one look and he knew he would crumble. But this, this wasn’t what he expected. 

Today, today was the worst day of his life, he had made you cry. Not in a silly way, the look on your face was proof enough that those tears were different. The nurse’s office tears were soft, gentle, leaving your eyes puffy. But these were harsh. Leaving hot, red trails down your cheeks as they left your eyes. He had hurt you.

----

It was hard to get out of bed the next day for the both of you. 

You woke up with swollen eyes and a throbbing headache. You contemplated skipping school all together, but what would you tell Yua. Hiroto wouldn’t pry, it wasn’t in his nature. But Yua, she would kick down your door if you didn’t show up, she had done it once before. 

You walked in as the bell rang, avoiding Sugawara’s sullen eyes. 

He was a clean and proper gentleman. He prided himself in his well kept appearance, but today, well he was a wreck. His eyes were dark and sunken in, his usual suit switched for much more comfortable clothing. His appearance seemed rushed, as if he had decided last minute to get ready (which he had, but the school couldn’t find him a substitute). 

When the bell rang you sondered up to the front of the class and picked up the attendance, avoiding his frame as you turned around. It didn’t matter, he couldn’t bring himself to look up at you even if he tried. 

You kept your distance from each other throughout the day, and when you did interact it was brief and to the point. 

Your friends were concerned but didn’t pry, instead they opted to show you silent love and affection. Yua and Hiroto had only seen you like this once. You had confessed to a boy during sixth year , but he had told you how he was looking for a prettier girl. It had broken your heart, the lasting pain ruining your self esteem well into your second year. They knew you would talk about it when you were ready, you just needed time.

Sugawara on the other hand only got teasing remarks from his coworkers. They were only interested in the details regarding the “crazy” night he had had, laughing about how he could have hid it better. Asking him for advice on where to find a girl for themselves. 

The day progressed on and before long the final bell rang and he found himself inside his office grading papers. A soft knock pulled him from his thoughts. “Come in.” He busied himself as the door opened. 

“Sensei, can you open the hallway closet, I need to put up the brooms...” You stood in the doorway, not wanting to fully enter the room.

His eyes rapidly met your own as he perked up at your voice. His heart sank again as he watched you back away from the door.

You held his gaze, nervously playing with the frayed threading of your skirt.“Sensei?”You questioned again a little louder causing him to stand up suddenly. 

He grabbed the closet keys and followed you out of the office.“Did everyone already leave?” He asked as you gathered the brooms. He reached out a hand to help you, retracting it as you gripped onto the handles tightly.

“Yes sensei.” You were walking briskly, causing him to rush to keep up with your pace. 

He unlocked the door, opening it for you as you walked in to put the brooms up. He watched you exit again, walking past him with the same hurried pace.

He followed you back to the room, watching you pack up your belongings before heading for the door.“ F/N…” He stopped you, opening his mouth slightly.

You turned around with your hand on the door, waiting.

The words he needed were lost. He searched your eyes for the right response, he needed something to grasp at.

You gave him a stiff smile before sliding the door open. You walked out, closing the door behind you. He took too long.

----

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

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[shortandsatirical]

Rat-ical Case

I

Before the rat, my day had already been off to an unwelcome start. To start off, I hadn’t woken up until minutes after my first class began. This was especially unacceptable, because I was the one teaching it.

I considered not showing up at all and calling in sick, just to avoid a lecture from my employer (I was the one who was supposed to be giving lectures, not him), but I was rather dedicated to my job and students and so I decided against it. I was almost certain I'd be found out in the end, guaranteeing unemployment for me. I wasn't the most stable financially at the time.

I tugged on my coat and grabbed my briefcase before trudging out the door. Breakfast would only make me later, which I could not afford. The university I had taught at was a bit far, but there had been an electrical outage the previous night and the trains were likely not up yet, forcing me to walk the whole way. However, it was Friday, and I had the next week off anyway, so it didn't matter much to me. I would likely be doing nothing and therefore didn't need my legs.

The next issue in my day, happened right after that. One of my neighbors- a talkative man named Alexander, but insisted on being called Alex- had stopped me to chat, and because I was a kind man, I couldn't find it in myself to avoid him.

"Ah, Professor Stephen, what a surprise to see you up so early," the issue said, closing his gate behind him. He had brought his dog out with him, likely taking him on a walk. His name, if I recalled correctly, was Caleb (a strange name for a dog, if you were to ask me). "On our way to work, are we?"

I refrained from pointing out that it was indeed not early, and already noon. "Yes, so if you don't mind, Alex, I've no time to chat."

"Of course, of course..."

Now, one would expect that to be enough for him, but alas, it was not. Instead, he followed after me. Whether it was intentional, I was not sure.

"Say, you wouldn't happen to have seen Caleb's collar, have you?" He asked, dragging said dog along. He appeared to be trying to sit in a single spot, and I couldn't help but sympathize with him.

"No, I haven't," I said. "You see, Alex, I'm already running late. Any later, and I just might be fired." This bit was a lie but he did not know that. "I might rush ahead, but please don't take it personally."

Alexander’s eyes widened (How was that still possible?) and he frantically shook his head. “No, no, go right ahead. You’re a wonderful professor, Stephen. If only we had teachers like you back in the day...”

With the way he acted, I had always forgotten that he was actually older than me. It wasn’t a big difference, only six years, which made him 35. To me, he seemed in every way not much older than 23.

I sped up before he had a chance to talk my ear off, which I suppose I could consider a win. Only, it wasted another five minutes of my time.

The third instance wasn’t until I reach the school. Of all 53 of my students, only 6 had remained. I still do not know whether they were the only ones to show up at all, or if the others had left after waiting for some time. It wasn’t often that more than about 20 students showed up, and as their teacher... I don’t think they should remain in the school.

Deciding that there was no point in my staying, I allowed my students to go to their next class and prepared to leave. I only had one other class to teach that day, but I didn’t think many would show up, so there was no reason for me to wait.

But as I was leaving, I felt a flare of pain on my shin, and kicked reflexively. I heard a thud and that was when I saw the scoundrel of a rat. It noticed my gaze and let out a squeal, dashing off somewhere in the room. However, I was not going to allow the pest to remain, in fear of someone seeing it and reporting that such a creature was spotted in my classroom.

I grabbed at it’s tail and dragged it towards me, lifting it in my hands and squeezing it, though I wasn’t quite sure what I was aiming for at the time.

And then, the door opened, and in walked Prof. Peters, who taught in the law department. He took one look at me and shook his head disapprovingly, rushing over to force the rat out of my hands. It landed on the ground with another thud (did that hurt?) and hid behind the law professor. If it were possible, it appeared to be glaring at me.

II

“Prof. Stephen, you know you should not be hurting innocent animals like that. I’m sure it didn’t cause you any harm,” Prof. Peters spoke.

“Ah, but that is were you’re wrong, Peters. This rat, as I was leaving, bit me for no reason,” I defended myself. “It does not belong here, in the school or on school grounds.”

“You must be mistaken, Stephen. Henry would never bite someone without provocation, and the school has no such rule. You must have done something for him to have bitten you like that.”

“Henry? So you know this rat?”

“I do know this rat, he has resided in my classroom for some weeks.”

“Well, either way, all I was doing was leaving, so I see no reason for him to have bitten me.”

“Let him defend himself, he can explain.”

“Ha! a rat, explaining itself? It must first be able to talk.”

The rat finally came out from behind Peters. “Harsh man, I am perfectly capable of doing such, so would you please stop talking as though I cannot?” the small creature said.

I froze at the small voice, unable to believe my ears. The rodent has spoken! But that is impossible!

I looked over at Prof. Peters, thinking it was all him and he was playing a trick on me. That man, I had never liked him since I met him four years ago. He had always behaved in such a stale manner and was much to stern to his students.

“Do not look at me, Stephen, look at the one speaking! Have you no manners?” Peters spoke angrily. He looked down to the rat. “Henry, did you bite this man?”

“I did, I bit this man. I felt threatened by his presence,” the rat explained briefly.

“And why did you feel that way?”

“Because, he seemed very angry and was too close to my home,” it answered.

“Nonsense!” I cried. “This creature spouts utter nonsense (and that is assuming it isn’t you doing the talking, Prof. Peters)! While I did feel angry, I had not even noticed this rat until it bit me. Therefore, I was the one threatened, and my actions were justified.”

“You human, your initial response to being bitten should not be to squeeze it until it pops. My bite is not deadly, and I am a very clean rat,” it exclaimed. It looked up at Peters. “Mr. Peters, I would like to take this man to court, for attempted murder.”

I scoffed. “Rodents cannot say nor do such things.”

Peters ignored me. “I believe you have every right, Mr. Henry. And would you accept me as your lawyer?”

“Of course, Peters, who else?” it squeaked. “Please make all necessary preparations as soon as possible. I am... uncomfortable to be anywhere near this man so I will reside in a tree in the meantime. Good day, Peters. Stephen.”

With that, the rat scurried out the door.

Prof. Peters gave me that stale look of his. “Please think twice before you try to murder and innocent being next time. Who knows where you’ll end up?” And then he, too, left the room.

I could not comprehend what had just happened. Was I going to court because of a pesky rat? How was it possible that it had spoken? As if the court would allow this! It must have been some weird dream I was having... Either way, I was sure I had nothing to worry about.

Fortunately, my misfortune for the day ended there.

III

Somehow, Peters had arranged everything as the rat had asked in only one week (and the court did allow it, can you believe that?), so I hadn’t any choice but to spend my own week off working with my lawyer to defend myself.

The week went by fast and before I knew it, I was in the defendant’s seat next to my lawyer, while that rat and the professor occupied the table to my left. Since Henry was so small, he had to sit on the table to be seen. In front of him was a notebook and pen, but for what?

After the opening statements were made, the clerk (whose name I had not bothered remembering) swore in the jury and then the first witness, Henry, was asked to stand up.

“Do you swear that the evidence you shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help you God?” the clerk asked.

The rat picked up the pen in front of him and wrote something on the notebook. Peters picked it up and held it for the clerk to see. It had not been pointed in my direction, but I was still able to make out the words, in neat handwriting, ‘I do’.

Murmurs were heard throughout the jury. However, they quickly quieted down. Why was the rat writing? Could he not talk? Ah, but if I point it out, they’ll assume I’m crazy...

“Please state your full name,” the clerk said.

‘My name is Henry Watts,’ Henry wrote. It has a surname?

“Please be seated,” The judge said. It sat. Peters stood up.

“Mr. Watts, please tell the court what happened on the evening of April 1st, 1996,” Peters said. It began to write.

‘As I was on my way home, this Prof. Stephen was too close to my hole and as I was running away, he grabbed me by my tail and squeezed me so that I almost died.’

“Do you see Mr. Stephen in court today?” Peters asked.

‘Yes, he is right over there.’ The rat pointed at me with it’s weird tiny finger.

“Did you do anything to cause Mr. Stephen to attempt murder on you?”

‘Hardly. I bit him because I felt threatened.’

“And why did you feel threatened?”

‘He was angry, much bigger than me, and too close to my house than I found comfortable.’

“What happened after the attempted murder?”

‘Well, Prof. Peters made him drop me. He offered to help me in court and I spent the next week living in a tree in fear of Prof. Stephen’s return.’

“So after the incident, you began to fear Mr. Stephen?”

‘I feared him the second I met that man.’

“And after the incident, have you felt any pain?”

‘Yes, the man may have dislocated my arm, and it will flare up in pain every now and then.’

“Thank you. No further questions, My Lord.” The last part was spoken to the judge and Peters sat down.

I don’t remember much of what happened after Henry was questioned. I do believe my counsel cross-examined him, and then the second witness, who was a remaining student of mine, was called on to give her evidence. My counsel cross-examined her, too. Finally, I was called on to speak.

“Do you swear that the evidence you shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help you God?” the clerk now asked me.

“I do,” I said.

“Please state your full name and spell your last name for the record.”

“Haris Stephen, S-T-E-P-H-E-N.”

“You may be seated,” the judge said. I sat.

“How many years have you been teaching at X University?” My counsel, Mr. Patel, asked me. I should not give the name of the university I taught at.

“I have taught at X University for four years.”

“Has any incident like this happened since you began teaching?”

“Not as far as I’m aware.”

“Why were you angry on the evening of the incident?”

“Because I was late to work and when I finally arrived, very few students of mine had remained.”

“And why did you try to kill the rat upon being bitten?”

“I am very dedicated to my job and was not aware that rats were allowed in the school, so I ought to have gotten rid of it.”

“Where did Mr. Watts bite you?”

“On my shin.”

“Was the bite infected and did it leave any marks?”

“The bite was not infected, but left a faint mark.”

“Does it still cause you any pain?”

“It did for the first three days following the incident, but not anymore.”

“No further questions.” Mr. Patel sat down.

“Does the plaintiff wish to cross-examine this witness?” the judge asked.

“Yes, my Lord. Have you seen any rats besides Mr. Watts throughout your four years teaching?” Peters asked.

“Other than the ones being used in the science department, I have not.”

"And you still felt it was fine for you to murder a resident of the school?"

"I did not know he was a resident at the time."

"Have you ever heard of any other professor attempting such a crime?"

"I have not."

"Would you have still tried such a thing if you weren't already angry that evening?"

"Yes, so long as I was not aware of his residing there."

“But you still believe it is fine if you murder a rat?”

“Yes, they are pests and can cause disease. Rats in the university would ruin it’s image.”

He announced that his cross-examination was complete.

And finally, Alexander, the talkative neighbor was called on. Again, I had not paid much attention to what was said but I do know that he was asked if I had ever acted cruelly towards an innocent creature during the entire time he had known me (nine years), to which he replied he once saw me catch a butterfly and tear off it's wings and antennae. I do not remember doing this, and therefore cannot defend my actions. But, if I ever had done such a thing, I deeply regret it.

After Alexander was questioned by Patel, Peters had cross-examined him, too. The only thing I had remembered by the end of it was that I did not look innocent in the slightest.

My case as the defendant had been completed and Peters and Patel gave the closing statements.

The rat wanted me behind bars for at least 6 months, followed by some time in anger management. Mr. Patel countered with only one month of jail time, or anger management, but not both. The jury went into the jury room and the judge went into his chambers. I sat silently as I waited for my verdict.

IV

The judge returned about half an hour later.

“Mister Reid, has the jury reached a verdict?” the judge asked.

“They have, my Lord.”

The sheriff brought the jury in upon being told to do so.

The clerk asked the foreperson if they reached a verdict, to which they replied that they did.

“Did you find the defendant, Haris Stephen, guilty or not guilty of the trauma and injuries sustained by the plaintiff, Henry Watts?”

“We find the defendant, Haris Stephen, guilty of the trauma and injuries sustained by the plaintiff, Henry Watts.”

And all thanks to that rat, I lost my job and spent the next six months in prison and the following six months in anger management. I wasn’t able to return to my job until a year after that, and taught at a different university, far away from the rat and Peters. One would expect me to have learned my lesson, but I have not! Instead, I killed every rat I’ve come across upon sight, only I never ended up in court again.

End

[the-observant-frisbeetarian]

Chapter 9

Auf Wiedersehen, Sweetheart by George deValier

Feliciano knew, somewhere in the back of his grief stricken mind, that he had to get up. He had to get up from where he knelt on the wet ground, had to go home, had to tell his brother and his grandfather that he had betrayed them. He had to go and face his fate. Feliciano knew he had to get up - but it was impossible to move, the rain and his grief and the whole world crushing him down. It was impossible to move when all he wanted was to lie in the cold, drenching downpour until he no longer felt anything at all.

A massive crack of thunder tore through the sky, but Feliciano did not jump. Instead he smiled to himself as he remembered Lovino's threat. The thunder sounded like a gunshot. Finally Feliciano forced himself to his feet, shaking the rain and the tears from his eyes. He could not make things right again. He could not undo what he had done. But he could damn well face the consequences.

The lights were on ahead as Feliciano walked up the narrow lane to his house. He could not bring himself to run. He was still dazed, still numb. He had destroyed everything the resistance had worked towards, everything they had risked and lost their lives for. He had put Lovino and Grandpa and Antonio, the people he cared most about in the entire world, in serious danger. Because of him the Germans would know about the landing, because of him the whole plan was ruined. But what did any of that matter. Ludwig thought he was an enemy who had been working against him. Ludwig hated him. Feliciano stumbled on the road and almost fell. The wind-blown rain blinded him. But he didn't care. He would never see Ludwig again. Nothing meant anything anymore. All he could do was confess what he had done, and accept the inevitable result.

Feliciano called out as soon as he pushed through the front door. "Lovino? Grandpa? I need to speak to..." He broke off abruptly. Antonio backed away from Lovino so quickly he stumbled over a chair and crashed backwards into the wall. Lovino practically fell off the table before straightening up and glaring angrily, his face red and his breathing heavy.

"Feliciano! You should knock before..." Lovino blinked as he took in Feliciano's soaking clothes and tear stained face. His glare quickly disappeared. "Feliciano?"

Faced with his brother's concerned expression, his worried eyes, all of Feliciano's resolve melted to nothing. He ran across the room and threw his arms around Lovino. For just one moment, before he destroyed everything, before Lovino found out what he had done and hated him forever, Feliciano wanted to hold his brother one last time. Lovino slowly placed his arms around Feliciano. "Feli, you're scaring me. What's wrong?" Feliciano tried to answer but could not speak through his sobs. Lovino sighed softly. "You went to see him, didn't you?" Feliciano could only nod. Lovino rubbed his back gently. "I'm sorry, Feli, I really..."

"I'm so sorry, Lovino." Feliciano whispered it, almost unconsciously, so softly he was not sure Lovino had heard him. But Lovino immediately froze in Feliciano's hold. After a long, deafening, terrible silence, Lovino slowly grasped Feliciano's shoulders and pushed him away to arms length. He looked terrified.

"Sorry?" Feliciano could hear the suppressed fear and apprehension in Lovino's voice. "Sorry for what?"

Feliciano reluctantly broke out of Lovino's grasp and backed up into the table behind him. How was he ever going to say this? How was he supposed to tell his brother that he had betrayed him, betrayed the Resistance, betrayed his country? His eyes flicked briefly to Antonio who stood silent, still, watching him with worried eyes. Feliciano tried to prepare himself to break his world apart. He lowered his head and whispered the words. "I told him."

Silence. The room was thick with it. It was accusing him, crushing him. It lasted far too long. Terrified, Feliciano forced himself to look up at Lovino. Feliciano had seen his brother angry. It was a pretty common occurrence, after all. He'd seen him livid with wrath and white with boiling rage. And yet he had never seen him like this. Like he was at the very edge of fury, like it was taking Lovino every ounce of willpower to keep from exploding.

"You told him." Feliciano just nodded. "Do you… have any idea… what you have done?" The words were low and seemed controlled, but Feliciano knew better. Lovino was hanging on by a thread.

"I'm sorry," Feliciano whispered again, gripping onto the table behind him with sweating hands.

"I let you go to him, Feliciano." Lovino looked at a loss to understand, to believe. His eyes flashed wildly. "I let you go! I knew you loved him but I never thought... I never believed you would betray us! Betray your country, your blood! NEVER!" Feliciano flinched at the sudden shout. Lovino's face twisted in barely contained fury. "Do you know how long we worked on this? Do you know what people went through to manage this? This was our chance! Our chance to get the Germans out! And you've RUINED EVERYTHING!" Just when it looked like Lovino was about to lose control, Antonio placed a hand calmly on his shoulder. Lovino turned and kicked the wall, letting out a frustrated shout. Feliciano flinched again, tears sliding silently down his cheeks. He had never felt so guilty in his life.

Antonio pulled out a chair and pressed Feliciano gently into it before kneeling before him. "Lovino told me about your German friend, Feli." His voice was kind but serious.

"Oh." Feliciano almost wasn't surprised. He still glared sideways at Lovino. "You promised."

"I promised not to tell Grandpa… an enormous mistake, obviously!" Lovino looked like he was about to kick the wall again, but when Antonio shook his head Lovino just put his head in his hands and turned away.

"Okay, Feli." Antonio fixed Feliciano's eyes in an intent stare. Feliciano did not think he could look away. "First of all, tell me what you do with this German soldier."

"He's a pilot," said Feliciano softly.

"All right, this pilot. What has he… has he ever…" Antonio scratched his head, looking uncomfortable and hesitant. "What do you… do, together? Exactly?"

"Well, we talk. And go walking. And he's teaching me to speak German, but I'm not very good at remembering it, not as good as he is at remembering Italian, only he always pronounces the words wrong. And we pick flowers and we laugh and we sing. Well, I do. Oh, and the other day we played soccer. I won." Feliciano smiled sadly and tried not to break to pieces when he thought of all the things he would never do with Ludwig again.

"And that's it? That's all? He just… talks to you?"

Feliciano was not sure what Antonio thought he would say. "What else would he do?"

"Nothing," Antonio replied quickly. "Good, right. Now, this morning." Feliciano winced as reality set in again. "What exactly did you tell him, Feli?"

Feliciano felt ashamed and embarrassed as he answered. "I'm sorry. I told him about the Americans landing tomorrow. About the attack during the meeting. And he… he… he knows I am in the resistance."

Antonio closed his eyes briefly. Feliciano could almost see everything fall apart behind them. A horrible aching shame gnawed at his gut. "All right, okay. And does he know of our meeting place in the cantina?"

"No, I never mentioned it."

"Does he know where you live?"

"Not exactly."

Antonio nodded and took a deep breath. "Feliciano, this is very important." He almost looked scared to ask the question. "Did you ever tell this German your surname?"

Feliciano hung his head. He knew his answer would not be the one Antonio wanted to hear. "Yes."

Antonio's shoulders stiffened and his voice rose in increasing intensity. "Does he know Lovi... I mean, does he know you have a brother? And, and a grandfather? Does he know their names?"

Feliciano responded in a very small voice. "Yes. But, but it doesn't matter, because he won't hurt them…"

"Lovino, we have to get you away from the village." Antonio's voice was frantic as he rose hastily to his feet.

Lovino shook his head, glaring down at Feliciano. His anger seemed to have settled slightly, but still looked ready to flare at any moment. "No. I can't leave. Where would I go? Besides, if this German is what Feliciano says he is, we are not in any danger. And if he's not… well, let the bastard try and take us."

Antonio actually laughed, though it was slightly hysterical. "Lovino, listen to me. This is no time to be brave. Do you know what the Germans do to resistance members? You have to get away, now, both of you!"

"What do you think, Feliciano?" Lovino raised his chin defiantly, provokingly. "This German of yours. Will he have us arrested? Should we run? You said he was a good man. But how much do you trust him?"

"I trust him." Feliciano knew as he said it how true it was. After everything, Feliciano still knew that Ludwig was a good man. "He will not arrest us. I swear it."

Antonio grasped Lovino's arms and forced him to face him. "Lovino, please. What they would do to you…" He broke off, shuddered, and pulled Lovino closer. "You don't understand, I've seen it, and I will die a thousand deaths if they do that to you. You must leave. We can not take the chance."

"Feliciano seems to think we should."

Lovino's eyes bore into his, and Feliciano realised. If he was wrong - if Ludwig informed his unit of Feliciano's affiliations with the resistance, if Lovino and Grandpa Roma were arrested and tortured and executed - it would be his fault. But Ludwig would not do that. Even if he thought Feliciano was an enemy, even if he thought Feliciano had been using him for information, even if he hated Feliciano for it - Feliciano knew Ludwig. And Ludwig would never turn anyone over to the Gestapo. "Believe me," he said resolutely. "Ludwig will not have us arrested."

Antonio suddenly paused. He turned his head slowly and looked curiously at Feliciano. "You said your German was a pilot?"

"Yes."

"And his name is Ludwig?"

Feliciano nodded, surprised by Antonio's peculiar tone. "Yes, that's right."

Antonio's eyebrows knitted together. "What is his surname?"

Feliciano thought briefly about not answering. But it could not do any more harm – Ludwig was on that list anyway. "Beilschmidt. Ludwig Beilschmidt. He's a Lieutenant."

Antonio's mouth dropped open. He looked stunned, then completely bewildered, then oddly amused. He eventually let out a deep breath before suddenly bursting into a fit of laughter. Feliciano blinked in confusion for a few moments before looking over to Lovino, who just shook his head at Antonio.

"You crazy bastard."

Antonio just kept laughing, relief evident in his face, in his bright eyes. He clutched his stomach. "I need to sit down," he panted. He almost collapsed into a chair, his face white and wide eyed and slightly shocked.

"You crazy, crazy bastard," said Lovino again. "Have you finally cracked?"

"You aren't in any danger." Antonio fought to gain control of his laughter. He gasped for breath a few times then shook his head and wiped his eyes. He still looked a little baffled, but reassured and almost calm. "The Germans will be prepared for the landing, however. And we do not have a way to warn the Americans this late."

"What does that mean?" Feliciano asked softly, still confused and slightly stunned by Antonio's strange reaction.

"It means things are going to get a little messy." Antonio sighed and ran a hand over his forehead. "And it means we have to tell your Grandpa."

Feliciano felt the blood drain from his face. He clutched his stomach, afraid he would be sick. "What… what will you tell him, exactly?" Feliciano tried not to panic.

"I'll try to leave some things out. But he has to know about this, Feli."

Feliciano's blood ran cold. "He'll kill me."

"No he won't." Antonio smiled kindly, and Feliciano was surprised by how much that hurt. He did not deserve that smile.

"Well he should. I betrayed him. I betrayed everyone. I'm just a traitor, I deserve to be shot, you said it Lovino, you said you would kill me if I betrayed Italy so please just do it, do it because there's nothing left now anyway!" Feliciano choked back a sob. Guilt flooded him once again. How many people would die because of him? What had he done by warning Ludwig, warning the Germans? What would Grandpa Roma think, what would he do? And again Feliciano wondered what it mattered. What any of it mattered. Because Ludwig was gone. Forever. Feliciano could not hold back the sobs anymore. He stood, kicking the chair behind him as he did. He clenched his fists, steeling himself. "Please, Lovino. Please just kill me."

Lovino stepped towards him and for a brief second Feliciano's heart leapt terrified to his throat. But Lovino just shook his head, his expression softened, and tears appeared in his eyes. "Don't be stupid, Feli." Then he pulled Feliciano fiercely into his arms. "As if I ever could."

Feliciano clung to Lovino and cried. Because his brother loved him despite everything. Because of the people who would be hurt because of his betrayal. Because he could not bear to think what Grandpa Roma would do when he heard. And because, even after everything, Feliciano did not regret what he had told Ludwig.

.

Feliciano sat crouched against his bedroom wall. He winced at every shout, every crash, every thud that resounded through the walls from the kitchen where Antonio spoke with Grandpa Roma. Feliciano did not know what to do. There was nothing he could do. He clutched his arms around himself and focused on breathing evenly. The yelling and shouting seemed to last forever. It wasn't until well after it had finally stopped that Feliciano could bring himself to move. He slowly got to his feet and carefully, hesitantly, made his way into the hall. He stopped as he entered the front room. Lovino stood at the open front door, staring out down the road, the afternoon sky dark and pouring and filled with lightning. It took Feliciano a few seconds to notice that Lovino was crying.

"Lovino? Has Antonio left?"

Lovino jumped and turned at Feliciano's voice. He wiped his eyes hurriedly, then shrugged and laughed awkwardly. "I'm such a coward, Feliciano."

Feliciano shrugged and smiled cautiously back. "Without fear, there can be no courage. Ludwig told me that."

Lovino paused, then looked from Feliciano to the road outside. "Just because I love you does not mean I have forgiven you, Feli."

"I know."

"You really risked everything for this German, didn't you?"

"I didn't have a choice. I love him."

Lovino nodded, his eyes hardening resolutely. "I think I need to..." He let out a deep breath. He seemed to have come to a decision. "I have to go." Lovino ran out into the rain without a backwards glance.

Feliciano watched him go, a strange sense of torn happiness and unfamiliar jealousy warring in his chest. And at the same time he felt an uneasiness growing in his stomach. He looked warily at the kitchen door. Lovino had not killed him. Grandpa Roma would not kill him. But Feliciano had never been so scared to see his Grandpa in his life. Regardless, he forced himself to walk into the kitchen, opening the door with slow and shaking hands.

"Grandpa?"

Roma sat at the kitchen table, his back to Feliciano. He did not respond.

"Grandpa?" Feliciano asked again, pleadingly. Roma raised a hand to quiet him, but he did not turn.

"Not now."

"Grandpa, please… please say something." Please say it's all right. Feliciano wanted to beg. He wanted to beg his Grandpa to hold him and sing to him and chase the monsters away, the way he always could when Feliciano was little and lost and scared, back when Grandpa Roma was stronger than anything else in the whole wide world and he knew how to make everything in the world all right again.

"You want me to say something?" Roma's voice was unlike Feliciano had ever heard it. Not angry, not sad, not disappointed. Just flat and empty. "Fine, I'll say something, Feliciano. Today, for the first time in my life, I am glad that my daughter is dead. Because if she could see what her son has become, she would die of shame."

Feliciano reeled like he had been slapped. His heart froze in his chest. He felt shaken, weak, as though his blood had been drained. He could not breathe from the shock of his Grandpa saying something like that to him. It was too much. It was all suddenly too much. Ludwig hated him. Lovino would never forgive him. And now the one person in the world he thought would always love him and protect him from everything had just torn his heart out. Feliciano felt accused, guilty, ashamed, hated. He could not bear it anymore. He almost did not notice as Roma started to turn.

"Wait, please, Feli, I didn't…"

Feliciano ignored him. He did the only thing he could think of to do. He ran out of the kitchen, out of the house, and out into the storm.

.

Next Chapter

Disclaimer: This story belongs to George deValier. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I own nothing.

[chuffyfan87]

Hiding. Part 47a

Cowritten with @disastrousintention.

-x-

Bonfire night was always a "all hands on deck" kind of shift in A+E so both Charlie and Duffy were working. The girls were spending the night with her mum, Peter was going to a local display with Sarah's family and Duffy had reluctantly agreed to let Jake spend the night with his dad. Things had improved substantially since Andrew had attended the court mandated anger management course but Duffy was still apprehensive. But she knew that she owed it to Jake to let him make his own decisions regarding his dad.

Jake hadn’t forgotten about all the bad stuff his dad did to his mum but sometimes he missed him. So far, their relationship was better. But for how long, nobody knew.

Charlie hated bonfire night. The amount of casualties that attended A&E was horrific.

Duffy spent the early part of the evening in cubicles treating burns, mainly to hands and and arms. It always hated it when the incidents involved little kids, it made her nervous and paranoid.

Charlie was in Resus dealing with the worst of the accidents. Like Duffy he too was nervous, he hated fireworks with a passion. They were dangerous but not everyone was aware of the dangers, it would seem.

Just after 9pm a young boy was brought in after being caught up in an explosion where a firework had been thrown into a bonfire. He was accompanied by a terrified young woman who couldn't have been older than her early twenties.

The woman looked like she was going to pass out any minute, the colour drained from her face. “Is he going to be okay?” She asked.

"Are you a relative?" A nurse asked the young woman.

"No, he's, um.., he's my boyfriend's son."

“What’s his name?” The nurse asked.

"Jake. I swear we didn't realise he was next to the bonfire."

“His surname and date of birth?”

"I don't know. He's ten I think."

“Right, if you want to sit in the relatives room, I’ll pass the information on. Where’s his father now?”

Charlie was in Resus dealing with a patient when he heard Jake’s name. He froze for a minute. Now, it couldn’t be...?

"He had to go to work. He asked me to keep an eye on the kid. My brother and his mates were helping me."

The nurse nodded and took her to the relatives room. “I’ll come and find you, when we know more.”

“Jake?” Charlie turned around. “Jake?”

"Do you know who he is? We need to contact his parents immediately." Harry replied urgently.

“Duffy’s his mum.” Charlie replied to Harry. “I... should go and tell her.”

"Don't bring her in here Charlie. I'll come and speak to her as soon as I can."

“How bad.. is it?” Charlie asked.

"The burns are pretty bad but it seems he was turned away when the firework went off so it didn't hit him full in the face and chest."

Charlie nodded. “You have to make sure he’s ok, Harry. Please.” He brushed away the tear that rolled down his cheek before leaving to find Duffy. How had this happened?

Duffy was in admin when Charlie approached her. "Why are people so irresponsible?" She sighed.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

"Every year we treat kids who've been allowed to play with fireworks. What kind of parent let's their kid do that?"

“Irresponsible ones.” Charlie swallowed, “Darling, will you come to my office for a minute? Please?”

"I'm OK, I'm just ranting. I don't really have time for a break right now."

“No. I need to talk to you, privately.”

"What is it?" She asked, puzzled.

“Not here darling.” He offered her his hand.

"Charlie what's going on? Just tell me and stop messing around!"

He didn’t say anything until he got to his office. “Sit down. Please.”

"What have I done wrong now?" She sighed as she took a seat.

Charlie crouched down in front of her and took her hands in his. “I...” He paused for a minute, “Jake’s had an accident.”

"What kind of accident? He's not broken his arm again has he?"

“No. He’s— he’s been caught up in an explosion at a bonfire.” He squeezed her hands, “He’s got pretty bad burns but the firework didn’t hit his chest or face. I don’t know anything else. I’m sorry. He’s in Resus, Harry’s treating him. He said he’s going to come and talk to us. I— I had to tell you.”

"What?!" She pulled her hands away and tried to stand up but Charlie was blocking her path. "I need to see him!" She cried.

“Harry said not to. Not yet, please.” He swallowed and pulled Duffy into a hug.

"I want to see my son!" She sobbed.

“And we will. Just not yet.”

"He'll be scared, he needs me." Her head was starting to spin. This wasn't happening!

He made her sit down again. “Look at me?”

She was shaking, her eyes wild with fear.

“Focus on your breathing for me? Please? In and out...”

It took several minutes but Duffy finally got her breathing back to normal and was able to speak. "Was anyone else hurt?"

“Not that I’m aware of. Just Jake.”

"Where's Andrew? I want to speak to him now!" Her fear had started to morph into anger. How could he have let this happen?

“I’ve not seen him.” Charlie admitted. “I don’t think it was him who brought Jake in.”

"Well who did? I want to speak to them!"

“I don’t know.” He answered.

She suddenly had a thought. Taking Charlie by surprise she got past him and headed out the door.

“Duffy, come back. Please.” He followed her.

She ignored him as she strode across reception and burst through the relatives room door.

The young girl stood up and swallowed. “Is Jake ok?”

“Darling, please.” Charlie warned Duffy quietly.

"Who the hell are you?" Duffy demanded.

“Isla.”

"Where is Andrew?"

“He had to work. I’ve tried to call him but I can’t get hold of him. I’ve left messages with reception though.”

"So he left my son with you?"

Isla nodded. “You're Jake's mum?”

"Yes and unfortunately that waste of space you call a boyfriend is my ex husband."

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know Jake was near the bonfire. I took my eye off him for a minute. I—I moved him before the firework exploded but he already had some burns. I’m really sorry.” Isla replied, “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

Duffy could see that the girl was genuinely terrified. "Did you get hurt?"

“My hands but...” Isla shrugged, “Jake’s more important.”

"Show me." Duffy encouraged.

Isla held her hands out. She had second degree burns to her hands, “It doesn’t hurt.”

"You need to get those treated."

“I’m really, really sorry.”

"How did it happen?"

“Someone threw a firework into the bonfire. It just exploded. I was moving Jake just as the firework went off."

"Of all the idiotic..!"

“I...” Isla was about to say something when she suddenly sat back down, feeling really dizzy and sick.

"Isla?" Duffy stepped forward to take hold of her wrist to check her pulse.

“I just feel a bit dizzy.”

"How long have you been feeling dizzy?"

“Since the bonfire started.” Isla admitted.

Duffy turned to look up at her husband. "Charlie?" She was torn - the young girl clearly needed medical attention but Duffy's thoughts kept straying to Jake.

He stepped towards Isla, “We need to get you checked over, ok?”

Isla sighed, “I’ll be ok in a couple of minutes.”

"You need to go with Charlie and get checked over." Duffy insisted.

Isla nodded. “Will you please keep me informed about Jake?”

Duffy nodded.

“Thank you.” Isla stood up and went with Charlie to be treated.

Duffy waited til they were out of sight before she got up and headed towards resus. She burst through the doors. "Jake!"

“Mum?” He whispered. He was tired and sleepy from the pain and morphine.

“Duffy, please.”

She ignored Harry and went over to Jake. "Oh sweetheart!"

Harry sighed. He’d told Charlie to keep Duffy away from Resus for the time being.

“Hurts.” Jake said quietly.

"I know. But you're going to be OK I promise!" She stroked his forehead.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

"Its not your fault."

“Is.” He nodded, “Went near the bonfire.”

"It doesn't matter. Don't think about that now."

“Can I sleep?” Jake asked, “I’m tired and it’s sore.”

Duffy looked at Harry.

Harry smiled slightly and nodded. “I think he should rest, yes.”

"Can I stay with him?"

“Yes.”

Duffy wasn't sure how long she'd been sat with Jake when suddenly Andrew burst through the resus doors.

“Is he ok?” Andrew asked stepping towards the bed.

"Like you care!" Duffy replied angrily.

“Of course I care. I came as soon as I could.”

"You left him on his own at a bonfire!"

“I left him with Isla.”

"She couldn't look after him, she's practically a child herself!"

“She’s twenty three. Hardly a child.” Andrew pointed out.

"And you're nearly fifty!" Duffy pointed out, the disgust clear in her voice.

“Who I choose to see is none of your business, Lisa.”

The atmosphere was increasingly tense. It had been several months since she and Andrew had seen each other in person. Usually she avoided being the one to drop off or pick up Jake when he saw his father. She stood up. "Let's talk outside, I don't want to disturb Jake."

He nodded and they went outside to talk. “I admit, in hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have left Jake with Isla.”

Duffy sighed, rubbing her lower back. "He could have died!" She cried.

“I know. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

"Everything was just getting settled and now this." She sighed, leaning against the wall.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to let him down.”

"Have you been to check on Isla?"

“She’s hurt too?”

"She pulled Jake out the way."

“No I haven’t. I’ll go and see Isla and then come back?”

"OK. Can you tell her that Jake is sleeping?"

“I will.” He smiled sadly, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

[zuffer-weird-girl]

Hello love I just got a idea from the cookies dough where Kai said What I say gos can you do one like were his like I’m the man of the house and you have to listen to me after his s/o dose something he doesn’t like and she gos on a mum rant like almost all mothers and is like no im the man because not only do I put up with your bs but Ipushed 2 annoying but lovable parasites out of my vagina so you show me respect brat you know General angry mum stuff with fluffy ending but If you can’t do it ok

Oh shit angst where parents fight not cool

The moment the room went silent and you and Kai just glared daggers at each other was enough to make shivers to appear in both of your childrens bodied... Kaito was still with his face serious as ever but his tiny muscles and whole body in general were tense and frozen, while Kin just weared that wary look on her golden eyes.

"Kaito, Kin." You said more serious than normal, not daring to look away from your husband threatening eyes "Is better if you two go to another room."

"Agreed." Growled Chisaki, not even blinking as he stared you down.

"But mo-"

"Are you deaf Kaito Chisaki?" Asked bitterly Chisaki, looking at his son with only anger in his eyes, but voice still calm "Out."

"You don't need to talk to him like that." You said sternly, trying not to flinch when he directed his threating golden eyes at you again abruptly.

You made again a signal for your kids to left the room, and thankfully this time both obeyed and left, Kaito looking at the scene one last time before closing the door.

"What's going on here my favorite brats?" Said the elder as he notice the faces of his grandchilds.

"Mommy and Daddy are fighting..." mumbled the four year old girl while her older brother glued his ear in the door.

"Is that so? Is rare seing these two fighting..." spoke in worry now Pops before his ten years old grandson mentioned him to do the same actions he was doing.

"Maybe is better to let your parents be Kaito... why not both of you come with me instead..." hesitantly the kids complied, praying that you two wouldn't get serious with this argument.

~

"Wait wait so I am the wrong here? Seriously?!" You spoke in disbelief as he sighed in annoyance while massaging his temples.

"(Y/N) you don't have any earing or mental problems so I don't have to repeat myself again like a fool."

"Just because I let some of the damn dishes to wash later you doing this?! Ah yeah I forgot! Because apparently I didn't do a good job on cleaning both of OUR kids room is that it?!"

"I could do better in my sleep than that." He growled, oppening his eyes threateningly "You already know what I am and what I wish for."

"Listen. I'm tired of you always complaining about those... those IDIOTS AND USELESS things of yours! I thoughf that whole germophobic thing had at least settled down for once! For God's sake you changed Kaito's and Kin's diaper!"

He never did complained until now, you knew that his anger was just because of a probably a bad day, and you knew that, but you were just surrounded by anger that you didn't think too much on what you were spilling in fact.

"Idiotic? Lets see who is the fucking idiot in here when one of us get sick." He growled "Then who is going to be the one to blame for?! Answers me (Y/N)!" He shouted this time making you flinch.

Chisaki never was one to raise his voice, childhood trauma leaded to that, so you it was a understatement when you got scared at it and lowered a little bit your own tone of voice.

"Hey don't need to raise the tone of voice, Kaito and Kin might be-"

"So what?! Is not like they need to hear how SICK OR CRAZY THEIR FATHER IS or HOW USELESS THEIR MOTHER IS!" He shouted and immediately regretted, getting a deja vuu at saying those disgusting words himself directly to his dear loved wife.

The way you widened your eyes and some tears were stuck on them felt like a shot to his heart.

"Useless..? I'm sorry, could you repeat that again? Chisaki..." you said coldly and bitterly his name while you holded back your tears.

Ah shit. You used his surname... you were pissed.

He knew he had cutted all of your pacience...

"Can you repeat that again to me? Repeat that to the person who loved you to no ends for years already? The person whose you called 'angel' countless times until the current days? The person who always was by your freaking side and hold your crying self when no one else would because you're too FUCKING PRIDEFUL AND ARROGANT to accept that you need help BECAUSE YOU'RE SICK?! THE PERSON WHO PASSED THROUGH HELL TO GIVE YOU TWO LITTLE TREASURES IN YOUR GODAMM DARK LIFE?! I'M THE USELESS THEN CHISAKI?! ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THAT?!" you yelled while some of tears fell to the ground.

Chisaki didn't answer due to his own shock surrounding him... he didn't mean it to let out those words, he sweared to God that he didn't...

He hesitantly extended his hand but you took a step back.

"What happened with the 'no touch'?" You whispered angrily which he only lowered his head.

Both of you stayed silent and frozen until you regained your compusture and went in the direction of the door. You stopped to say something.

"I'm going to take a walk... both of us need to cool down our heads apparently."

He nodded numbly before he heard you closing the door... He dropped on his couch with his hands burried in his dark brow hair in anger at himself, shame and sorrow.

You left the room and breath in slowly to calm yourself as you went towards your shared room.

~

Both of kids were already in bed, and Kai thanked Pops for the help. The elder noticing his boy's discomfort placed a hand on his shoulder, feeling the way he tensed and cringed at the contact.

"Kai, was the fight that bad to let you on this state?" Chisaki merely lifted his eyebrow, giving the answer Pops needed.

"Look my boy, it's normal to have fights with their significant others, but what is not normal is to sleep through it without a damn apology from both of your sides. I could hear (Y/N) and your screams from afar..."

Chisaki still weared that numb expression as he looked down in thought.

"I was the one who fucked up the most honestly..." he mumbled monotonously as he felt Pops's hand leaving his shoulder.

"Then why don't throw that arrogance of yours away and go apologize? Its at least the advice I'm offering you..." he left to his own room.

"Night Kai. Wish a good night for my daughter in law for me, will you?"

He sighed while massaging his temples... That is if you were still accepting to be his wife...

~

He oppened the door slowly and thanked internally that you haven't locked it. He immediately catched your figurine messing around in your cellphone while he noticed that the bedroom was far more organized and clean than usual.

As much as he was pleased with this he felt a knot forming in his stomach, already knowing why exactly you did that...

Your eyes found each other and you immediately looked down at your phone to turn it off and lay on the bed to sleep. While him was still preparing too.

He after layed down and notice you were too far away for his liking.

"You're going to fall from the bed.." he stated while looking at you, who was with closed eyes.

You didn't respond, causing his heart to clench a little.

"(Y/N), I know you're awake..." he said, again with no response.

"... I'm sorry angel." He murmured sadly, surprising you when he got closer and higged you tight.

"I'm sorry... words can't express how regretful I am for saying those words to you... I was completly out of my element and even dared to say something that my... that I once heard... I know an apology can't fiz how hurr you must be now... you can retribuit all the things I did with me if that's mean you will feel better again..." he let go of you and stared at your now open eyes.

You stared for a couple of moments before lifting your hand to caress his jaw, your heart clenching at the way he flinched at first, probably thinking you were going to hit him...

"I own you a apology too... I called you things and yelled as well, even knowing how you hate it... guess we both fuck up."

"Apparently..." he whispered still looking everywhere but your eyes.

You two stay in silent until you took the courage to grab his gloved hand and rub little circles on his palm.

"You're not even a bit useless... you had to atture me for ages now..." he said, breaking the silent "After all... who takes more than two months to show their face to their loved one...? you maybe be right about me being the sick one..."

"You take that back." You squeezed his hand gently, finally getting him to look at you.

"You aren't that, neither I am... we both said things we didn't mean to at the heat of the moment... it's fine." You smiled at him which he only scoffed.

"Why do you do this? Forgive me this easy...? I don't... I don't deserve it such a angel like you... my only worth is-"

"Stop that." You said gently, hugging his torso and burring your face on the crook of his neck, noticing how his muscles fir a second tensed but instantly relaxed.

He slowly bringed one hand to carry your hair while his other arm holded you firmly pressed to him.

"Forgive me my angel?" He whispered in your hair.

"As long as you forgive me too my devil..." you hugged him a little tighter when he muffled pressed a kiss in the too of your head.

"Thank god... no more fights like this... it gives me a sick feeling on my stomach..." he pressed you on the bed as he got up on you staring you down.

"Can you really forgive me that easy?"

"Look what love does to us right my handsome husband." You giggled when he breathlessly chuckled before taking his mask off and started to shower you in kisses. Every part he could reach his lips were pressed on it.

"I still think I own you though." He said nibbling on your ear lobe "So I guess I will."

"... Are you serious?" You asked smilling up at him, seing already his dark lusted look.

"My angel, this is my punishment." He pressed his lips against yours gently but the kiss itself was enough to leave both of you breathless.

"And I'm happy to pay for my sins..."

"Hmm... you were the demon of lust this entire time I knew you then?" You started to laugh at the mortified and disgusted look he gave it to you.

"I am not. How dare you?" He said darkly but offended as well.

Your laughing didn't collaborate for his red face... but he was still trying to contain his own smile growing at seing you happy with him again.

Well, nothing better than a bite to quiet this angel down.

[empressfiend]

Embracing Pain (Malec Fic)

#firstmeet #alecinlove #highwarlockofbrooklyn #developingrelationship

Read on Ao3. (FiendMaz)

Beta: @beyondthehunt

Magnus took one last surveying glance at the dead warlock then stood up with a slow grace. His face was set with low simmering anger and he didn’t bother to put on a façade as he walked past the Shadowhunter that had insisted on accompanying him. The man was tall, handsome, and exactly his kind of man – but he had no plans to be involved with the Nephilim in whatever way and, in any case, they always proved to be nothing but nuisances.

“Magnus –,”

Magnus turned to the Shadowhunter whilst he walked and gave a passing glare. “Don’t speak to me so familiarly, Nephilim.”

- Alec tries to worm his way into Magnus' life but the High Warlock of Brooklyn has far greater things to worry about than a Nephilim clamoring for his attention. This Nephilim wasn't one for giving up however.

The alleyway smelled of whiskey and day old barf, a riveting mix of scents that reminded Magnus of questionably good nights and decidedly horrible ones. He was crouched down before a dead warlock’s body, his lip set to a grim line as he catalogued every injury as well as any clues that might have been left by the culprit.

When he had become a private investigator all those years ago, he had done it for fun and certainly didn’t expect that his experiences with the odd cases would help him much as a High Warlock but they have. As the acting leader of the New York Downworlders, the job of investigating and getting rid of problems that posed as threats to the community fell under his duties and responsibilities.

It has been long since the Clave had any sort of power over the Downworlders though they definitely never failed to try to assert some every now and then.

Magnus took one last surveying glance at the dead warlock then stood up with a slow grace. His face was set with low simmering anger and he didn’t bother to put on a façade as he walked past the Shadowhunter that had insisted on accompanying him. The man was tall, handsome, and exactly his kind of man – but he had no plans to be involved with the Nephilim in whatever way and, in any case, they always proved to be nothing but nuisances.

“Magnus –,”

Magnus turned to the Shadowhunter whilst he walked and gave a passing glare. “Don’t speak to me so familiarly, Nephilim.”

“It’s – Alec.” The Shadowhunter nearly sighed out in defeat though his eyes remained ablaze with passion and determination as well as something darker that lurked far deeper than could be comprehended. “High Warlock –,”

Magnus stopped to bristle but didn’t say anything; whatever this… Alec would choose to call him would rub him wrongly.

“I want to help you find who did this.”

“It isn’t just this.” Magnus replied in a forced tone. He flicked his eyes to the warlock that laid on the ground with blank eyes wide open then back to the Nephilim. “How can you help when you don’t even know that?”

“I’ll find out what I need to.” Alec’s expression was schooled into a neutral one.

“Whatever you’re playing at, Shadowhunter,” Magnus did a cold once-over of the blandly-outfitted Nephilim. “I don’t have the patience for it. And I don’t need you.” He ended his sentence with a snap of his fingers and the dead warlock disappeared in a wisp of blue smoke while a portal swirled right where he stood. He stepped through for his private office in Pandemonium with a last glimpse of Alec attempting to reach out to him.

The wide expanse of glass behind his desk muted the colours flashing brightly in the main area of his club but, he looked down, the view of the patrons dancing the night away in a deluge of sweat and alcohol was crystal clear. At a glance, they all looked carefree and happy, enjoying their lives inside the safe haven that was his club but he knew better. He could see that their movements were strained, could pinpoint who were more affected than the rest, and knew exactly those that were mourning by drowning in alcohol.

His sigh was silent as he summoned himself a stiff drink; the ice clinked inside the old fashioned glass when he tilted it to let the amber liquid slide down his throat. Once done, the glass bounced on the carpeted floor once, twice, before it disappeared in a whirl of smoke.

He had been privy to a grand number of four unexpected deaths in the past week and he had three more days left. A vampire, a werewolf, a faerie, and now, a warlock. With three more days left, there wasn’t much choice but to repeat the cycle but was it a cycle? What if – he flexed his jaw when he saw Alec enter his club – a Shadowhunter was next? They would meddle, of that he was sure though he’d be damned if he’d let them.

He followed Alec’s movement in the parting crowd and rolled his eyes when the Shadowhunter looked up at the dark one-way glass wall of his office that he was currently looking out of. It would be a pain to deal with all the bureaucracy and bullshit superiority complexes but at the very least, he’d find out why Alec was sent to pester him.

And if not, well, he didn’t so much care as feel irritated and vexed about this rather insistent companion. He shot his hand out when he felt the his wards wobble at the touch of Nephilim blood at the foot of the stairs that led up to his office and curled his fingers into a fist for his stairs to turn into a slide.

The satisfying grunt of pain that filtered through his otherwise soundproof door made him smirk.

  High Warlock Bane,

Your presence is required –

Magnus scoffed and tossed the fire message away with a flick of his wrist; the nerve of the Nephilim. He took a sip of his perfectly concocted Long Island Iced Tea and settled back on his royal purple chaise when another fire message flashed before his face. His tongue clucked irritably but he snatched it out of the air to read the first few lines, fully prepared to toss it too but his compassion was piqued by the politeness.

High Warlock Bane,

Please come to the New York Institute. My brother is dying and you’re my only hope. I am fully prepared to pay whatever you wish for, just please save my brother.

Isabelle Lightwood

A twinge of familiarity shot through him as he re-read the last name of the girl that had sent him the message and it took him a few seconds longer than he would have liked when he finally remembered that she had the same surname as the Shadowhunter that had followed him around all of last night. He grit his teeth and looked up at the ceiling dramatically as he snapped his fingers for a portal.

The Institute was as cold-looking and drab as the Nephilim themselves, he thought as he rolled his shoulders. The doors slammed open with his magic and, upon entering, was greeted by quite a beautiful Shadowhunter whose uncanny resemblance to Alec let him know it was Isabelle. He raised an eyebrow and she gestured for him to follow without further ado.

His steps were purposeful as he followed her hurried steps to what he guessed would be the clinic but he was surprised when she opened a door and he was shuffled into a private room – a bedroom, to be exact. He paused at the entryway for a split second before he continued on after her and sat down on the limited space available on the bed that Alec laid on.

The Shadowhunter was in a horrid state, clammy and paler than usual with the distinct look of a dying man. It should have been a terrible look but he found that it barely did anything to detract from the inarguably good looks that the Nephilim was blessed with. He circled his hands in the air above Alec’s chest and his purple magic awoke to seep into the Shadowhunter.

His brows furrowed when he noted a strange strain of poison mingled with demon blood without any obvious entry points such as an injury, a mere cut, or even a tiny insert of an injection. He inhaled deeply when he noticed the slight burn inside the Nephilim’s throat and froze momentarily as he considered the possibility of Alec drinking something vile in his club but he recovered quickly to focus on his task to heal.

All throughout, he was aware of how a worried Isabelle hovered behind him, her heels twisting punishingly on the carpet. Her gasp was loud when a knock disturbed their quiet and she seemed mildly resigned by the slump of her shoulders as she greeted the Indonesian Shadowhunter outside. She mumbled something angrily, muttered a louder, “I’ll be back in 5 minutes, Raj,” then shoved past the man and swept away in a flurry of whipping hair that hit the Indonesian Shadowhunter in the face.

“I’d stop looking and continue working if I were you.” Raj sneered.

Magnus smirked and immediately ceased his healing magic; he was done anyway. He stood up facing Alec and lifted his hand sideways to swiftly capture the snivelling Nephilim with his magic. His lips downturned into a dark frown as he twisted his fingers to curl his magic into Raj and he nearly smirked when he saw the Shadowhunter’s face freeze along with the rest of the body.

“I hate being rushed.” He shifted to level his heavy glare at the stiff man then pushed his whole palm outwards. Raj crashed against the boring painting on the equally boring wall with a loud crash then collapsed onto the floor in a useless heap; a perfect image that described the Nephilim race as a whole in his esteemed opinion. He wiped the non-existent dust off his hands and fixed his vest before he prepared to summon yet another portal but at that moment, Alec grunted.

Magnus lowered his hand slowly as he watched the Nephilim wake up as if from a sleep, slightly in disbelief at the fast recovery. He met the groggy Shadowhunter’s eyes head-on and raised a brow when the other bolted up into a sitting with a groan of pain.

“Um…” Alec shuffled to a seating position with another groan. “Yeah…” The Shadowhunter eyed the room like it was unfamiliar and then turned back to him with a more interested glint. “Are you accepting my help?”

Magnus snorted. “You were poisoned, Shadowhunter. You drank poison and nearly died from it. I’m here because I saved you not because I need help.” He brushed off invisible lint from his sleeves. “In fact, this whole situation just serves as a reminder that I of all people don’t need your help. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He raised his hand for another portal when –

“Wait.” Alec raised a hand but it was the soft plea in the Nephilim’s voice that made him stop.

May Hell help him for sticking around longer than necessary in the Institute.

  The ‘meeting’ or whatever it was had been benign up until now; filled with whatever useless ramblings the young Shadowhunter could think of in regards to the multiple deaths. Magnus found himself listening with a slight quirk of his lips as the eager Nephilim stumbled over simple sentences, eyes bright. But as they continued on this way and finally a long-abused stereotype branded on Downworlders was spoken out loud, he remembered exactly why he hated the damn Shadowhunters.

“They’re prone to becoming slaves to their impulses so perhaps –,” Alec stopped abruptly as the Shadowhunter apparently possessed enough sense to realise when to shut up.

Magnus stared at the guilty-looking Nephilim with a look full of betrayal and cursed himself for even thinking for a second that he could have a mutually beneficial relationship with this Shadowhunter. “You and your Nephilim superiority,” He spat out with a forced-amused edge to his tone. “Think you know everything. Us? A slave to our impulses? Don’t make me laugh.” His tone sharpened and he slipped in some of his magic to ensure that Alec would feel every razor-sharp edge to his words. “Shadowhunters have always been slaves to their impulses not anyone else. Case in point.”

He stalked out of the room and away from the fumbling Nephilim without a second with anger visibly burning inside of him.

  When Magnus stood over the dead body of Raj in yet another alleyway, this one smelling of cigarettes and spoiled food, all he felt was simmering anger. And when Alec came by his loft two hours later with a terribly sorry expression along with an order to get his DNA to test against the hairs found on the dead Shadowhunter that had insulted him, he made sure the young Nephilim knew exactly how pissed he was.

The flinch he got from Alec was barely satisfying.

“High –,”

“Get out.” Magnus ordered, confused at himself for lowering his eyes as if he was cowering but he couldn’t lift them up. A vice wrapped around his heart and squeezed, the thorns made up of his foolish naiveté. “Out.” He hissed when the Shadowhunter tried to speak once more.

His eyes stayed lowered as he avoided the Nephilim’s pleading gaze and let his fingers dance to magically open his door as another emphasis to the seriousness of his words. He inhaled deeply when the Shadowhunter tried to catch his eyes one last time and heaved a relieved sigh when he heard the sound of his door closing.

  Seeing Camille was a terrible curse Magnus only wished on his worst enemies and yet there she stood at the entrance to his loft mere hours after the Nephilim had left his home with his DNA. He rolled his eyes when she stalked in without a care for permission and mockingly swept his arm in welcome to allow in her odd entourage; a vampire who was clearly a fledgling and a female Shadowhunter.

“Odd company,” He commented idly as he rubbed his fingers together. “Even for you, Camille.”

“I just love to mix things up.” Camille purred over her shoulder with tempting hooded eyes.

Magnus smiled plainly at her, mildly amused by how she seemed to still believe that he’d agree to do anything that involved her when a century had already passed with her meaningless tries and his consistent refusals. “Why are you here?” He asked loftily.

“Darling,” Camille started in her venomously-sweet voice. “I’ve missed you.”

Magnus stared at her and remained unmoved as the fledgling and young Shadowhunter walked past them to position behind Camille. Far from looking like her entourage, he mused, they appeared to be there as her guards. He flicked his eyes up to the Nephilim’s briefly before returning them back to Camille’s. “What has she done?”

“I found her,” The female Shadowhunter spoke up. “Disposing of vampire bodies.”

“Then why is she here and not at the Institute?” Magnus questioned. He narrowed his eyes when Camille flashed him a simpering smile.

The Nephilim shrugged. “Alec said that he, and I quote, “won’t make the same mistake twice,” and that you’re the leader of the New York Downworld so she’ll have to go through you first.”

Magnus narrowed his eyes but figured he’d deal with the former information later on. He turned to Camille and the subtle smile on her blood red lips; she was still coldly beautiful and he was still pissed off with her. “Why?” He demanded.

“I was just cleaning house, darling.” Camille explained airily.

“That’s a lie!”

“Quiet,” Magnus shot the fledgling a look and then grandly gestured for Camille to sit on one of his couches whilst he snapped his fingers inconspicuously. She tapped his arm coquettishly and fluttered her eyelashes before moving over to the living room. One step in and his magic reacted immediately to her energy in the form of a large jail cell that materialised out of thin her to trap her inside.

Camille showed her fangs instantly. “What are you doing?”

“You’ve had your turn.” Magnus raised his finger to shush her with a silencing spell. “So,” He turned sideways to face the fledgling and raised an eyebrow. “You were saying?”

“She killed them because Raphael found out there were some mundane-feeding dens in Brooklyn. He was going to raid them with some of the other vampires tonight but then Camille found out and killed them before they could let anyone know she was the one who created those dens.”

“You never learn, do you?” Magnus walked away from her as he shook his head. This was hardly the first time she had done such a thing and the last time he had known, he’d told her to destroy the dens or he’d turn her in. It had been an empty threat then but now… Well, it was a relief to do what he was about to. “Goodbye, Camille.” He waved his arms about to create a portal and took one last look at her.

“Don’t you dare –,” Camille’s eyes turned bright with betrayal and it hit him in the heart to suddenly see such a strong emotion in her usually cold eyes but it was too late: his decision was made. “I’m the only permanent person in your life.”

Magnus’ cat eyes flashed at her words and sharp pain stabbed at his heart as he remembered the first woman to have ever left him. He turned away grimly and sent her off with a thrust of his magic. She was gone after a long blink and relief rippled through his body. He was simultaneously happy and unhappy to have rid of her but also and, more than that, he felt like he’d been freed from a chain he had been thus unaware of.

She was finally, permanently, gone.

Just like everyone else.

“Where…”

The fledgling’s voice distracted him from his thought and Magnus snapped his fingers for a drink. “Your name?” He asked as he handed over a Blood Mary to the vampire.

“Simon. Lewis. Simon Lewis.” Simon gratefully accepted the drink. “Camille’s my sire. Well, she was my sire, I guess.”

“That’s not how it works. You should tell Raphael to teach you about sires.” Magnus informed the fledgling. “Now then, Nephilim –,”

“It’s Clary –,”

Magnus waved his hand in irritation at the interruption. “Tell the Head of the New York Institute that while I appreciate this gesture, I’m not going to play this game with him.”

“Game?” The Nephilim blinked in surprise and she shared a look with Simon. “Alec would never play games. He’s too serious for that besides he –,”

“NO! He’ll murder us if you tell,” Simon interrupted, eyes were wide and positively alarmed.

Magnus raised his brow, curious.

“That’s true.” The Shadowhunter deflated. “I almost… Anyway, Alec doesn’t play games and he wouldn’t ever do it where you’re concerned.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Magnus queried.

“Exactly what I said.” The Nephilim said evenly. “Anyway, thank you for your hospitality,” She said sarcastically with a brief pointed look at the Bloody Mary Simon held and then at her own empty hands. “For dealing with bitchmille and… welcoming us to your home, I guess. See ya!”

Magnus nodded as Simon bowed whilst depositing the glass of half-full Bloody Mary onto the coffee table and then watched as the fledgling left with the strange Shadowhunter girl.

  The wind was warm and comforting at this time of the night but his heart thudded in fear inside his chest. His fingers trembled as he took a hold of the blanket that covered the familiar form of his mother and he tossed it away with a jerk. Blood greeted him, wet and fresh, and it smelt of iron so strong that he choked on it –

Magnus shuddered violently from the memory. He took a shaky sip of his morning coffee then stared into the distance of his wide loft, eyes vacant but mind whirring senselessly, restlessly. His figure must have seemed like a statue as he stayed frozen, trapped in the repeated cycle of his earliest tragedy. He berated himself for being so affected by Camille’s parting words but, all the same, he was surely trapped in the torture of reliving the horror of the crystal clear memory.

His day had started badly with the news of the Clave suspecting him for the insolent Shadowhunter’s murder and then took a turn for worse when Camille had arrived and he was forced to send her off to Idris. Finally, it turned to this: with him sat on his couch, a drink in hand as he relieved a punishing memory.

It must not be his week.

A tear slid down his cheek, unbidden, and he wiped it away angrily. His attention slid over to his vinyl record player and he turned it on with a snap of his fingers to allow the thunderous percussive backbeat and wondrously expressive vocal of Dan Reynolds wash over him like a crash of waves; the song was loud and strong enough to somehow must the memory in his mind.

First things first

I’ma say all the words inside my head

I’m fired up and tired of the way things have been, oh-ooh

The way things have been, oh-ooh

He drowned himself in the music and let it conquer the disquiet inside of him with his eyes closed, body sunk into the couch and head rested against the back of the cushion. His feet tapped the carpeted floor in time to the beat and his lips mouthed the words unsurely but after the third repeat of the song, he began to belt out the lyrics loudly and intently, fully immersed in the chaos of emotions the lyrics pulled from inside of him.

“Don’t tell me what you think that I could be!” Magnus raised his mug to the words and bared his teeth. “I’m the one at the sail, I’m the master of my sea, oh – ooh!” His magic flared and his mug was switched out for an old fashioned glass, his coffee for whiskey on the rocks, and his exquisite robe for a blood red button-up. “The master of my sea!”

He sipped his drink quickly as he rose up from his seat and then sang, “I was broken from a young age,” at the top of his lungs before taking a few more sips whilst the music continued on around him. “Singing from heartache,” he sung, “from the pain; taking my message from the veins; speaking my lesson from the brain; seeing the beauty through the… PAIN!

“You made me a, you made me a BELIEVER! BELIEVER!” His magic began to surge into his words and they weighted heavily on his body as he became more passionate. “PAIN! You break me down and build me up, believer, believer!” He paused and took a large gulp of his drink as the music continued.

Pain!

Oh let the bullets fly, oh let them rain

My life, my love, my drive, it came from…

My life my love, my drive, it came from…

Pain!

You made me a, you made me a believer, believer

Magnus breathed in deeply as he refilled his drink and then downed it through another verse before finally tossing his glass away. He stretched his arms up above him as the memory of the last time he had danced in his living room filtered through the haze in his mind “I was choking in the crowd; building my rain up in the cloud; falling like ashes to the ground; hoping my feelings, they would drown.”

“Pain! You made me a, you made me a believer, believer!” His fingers danced gracefully in the air when he tucked his arms to his sides in time with the beat and waved gently still whilst he flew around his living room with precise, controlled movements; and his magic ran freely to command the furniture in his loft to make way for him. “Pain! You break me down and build me up, believer, believer!

“Oh let the bullets fly, oh let them rain! My life, my love, my drive, it came from…” His eyes fluttered open and he watched as his magic left sparkles of blue in the wake of his movements. “Pain!” He ran to his balcony on his tiptoes, did a twirl and then stopped with his back against the balcony ledge.

“Last things last, by the grace of the fire and the flame,” he sung as his magic sparked red and he whirled around to point at the darkening skyline behind him, “You’re the face of the future, the blood in my veins, oh – ooh!” He threw sparks of rainbow-coloured magic into the air and continued singing as the fireworks begun up above him, “the blood in my veins oh – ooh!”

But they never did, ever lived, ebbing and flowing

Inhibited, limited

Till it broke open and rained down

And rained down, like…

“Pain!” A large red firework exploded up above and then rained down like dazzling rubies. “You made me a, you made me a believer, believer. Pain!” This time a more massive red firework dominated the sky. “You break me down and build me up, believer, believer. Pain!” He waved his hands in the air and rainbow fireworks exploded nonstop, nearly deafening in its raucous but he could just about hear the music still playing.

Oh let the bullets fly, oh let them rain

My life, my love, my drive, it came from…

“Pain!” Magnus leant against the brick ledge of his balcony and stared up wistfully at the bisexual colours now blessing the twilight sky. “You made me a, you made me a believer, believer.” A glass of champagne materialised in between his fingers and he saluted to the sky, to the colours that represented him, before downing his drink.

  The summons to the Institute were getting irksome but as it was a call regarding the dead Nephilim, he hadn’t a choice but to go. But then of course because he was having the best streak of luck, he was consequently detained upon arrival as apparently there was no information to give, they simply wanted him to come of his own free will and fuck the details.

He seethed quietly on the godawful couch he was sat on, questioning why on earth he thought it was a stellar idea to come to the Institute in the first place and wondering how on earth he could salvage his reputation and pride over being caught by such a uselessly overused brainless bait. His inner grumblings came to a stop when the door opened and he met the infuriatingly familiar eyes of one Shadowhunter.

“High Warl –,”

“No,” Magnus halted what was no doubt a riveting speech. He observed the extremely wound up and fidgety Nephilim before him. “I really don’t need to hear whatever meaningless words you rehearsed beforehand. Either you’re here to tell me I’m free to go or you can just do whatever it is you’ve been told to do.”

Alec closed the door and a stubborn look overcame the admittedly-handsome face. “You’re free to go.”

“I’m free to go, am I?” Magnus raised a disbelieving brow.

“I was in Idris and an envoy from the Clave was in charge here for the brief time I was away so I wasn’t able to stop them from detaining you but I’m back.” Alec ran a hand through his hair and continued, “You’re free to go.”

Magnus eyed the Nephilim more closely and traced the rigidly-set expression. “Why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why,” Magnus took a step forward. “Are you letting me go after all the fuss to get me here?”

Alec passed a hand through tousled black hair. “There’s no reason to detain you.”

“Well, I know that.” Magnus rolled his eyes.

“I’m the Head of the Institute and what I say goes, envoy from the Clave or not.” Alec declared a little shakily. “You are not being charged with any Clave Violations and you’re free to go.”

Magnus dismissed the statements with a careless wave of his hand. “Why,” He took a few more steps to eliminate the distance between them. “Are you letting me go despite the repercussions you will no doubt receive? What are you aiming for, Alexander?”

“Alexa –,” Alec took a deep breath. “How do you know my full name?”

“Does it matter? Answer my question.” Magnus insisted.

Alec glanced at the door. “I just want to, alright?”

“No, not really.” Magnus slid away, not anticipating a response from the Shadowhunter, and opened the door to the hallway. He was only able to take two steps out before impossible words were blurted out from behind him with a mighty lack of finesse. His foot stopped mid-step and he took his time in turning around to look at the Shadowhunter with an expression that mingled disbelief, disappointment and incredulous sadness. “You go so far to say such words just to get me to trust you, Alexander?”

Alec swallowed visibly. “It’s not – I wasn’t lying. And I didn’t say it to gain anything. I only said it because you asked and I wanted you to know because I can’t stand having you look at me like my purpose in life is to ruin you for the Clave.”

“You can’t possibly mean such words to a person you barely know.” Magnus whispered hauntingly.

Alec shifted forward, brows furrowed and face slack slightly in such a way that made it obvious the Shadowhunter hadn’t completely processed the whole conversation yet.

The expression almost made Magnus believe the words were, however impossible and unbelievable, true. “Don’t use such words so carelessly.” He searched the Nephilim’s eyes one more time before he twisted away to continue on through the hallway and into the elevator with the heat of Alec’s eyes on his back.

His head was bowed as the doors closed and he basked in the darkness as the words rang incessantly inside his head:

“It’s because I like you.”

  Magnus was stopped by the appearance of the Downworlder leaders spilling into the front doors of the Institute and he sighed exasperatedly when Luke informed him that they were called by the Head of the New York Institute for an emergency Downworlder Council Meeting. He tipped his head, gritted his teeth and plastered on a bland smile as he turned around to follow them back into the Institute, taking much care to avoid the eyes of a certain Nephilim.

His eyes never once strayed to those increasingly familiar eyes but he felt the constant stare as if it were something physical. His heart rate was upsettingly fast within his chest and he knew for a fact that even though he had his most passive mask on his face that Raphael could clearly see through his bullshit but – oh, was it so bad that he could see heartbreak in those eyes?

He left the Institute a few hours later in a significantly lower mood and realised that the only good thing that came out of his day was that he knew Raphael wouldn’t bother asking what was wrong.

  Magnus stalked over to his front door and swung it open with an ill-pleased expression. He was thoroughly done with the week and was not at all in the mood for any visitors – especially not ones who didn’t know how to knock quietly. His gaze landed on the dark form of the Nephilim standing outside his door and he went to promptly close his door but his defensive walls must have been wobbling from the constant abuse as he stopped himself just short of slamming his door shut when the Shadowhunter spoke his name in an agitated but pleading tone.

He flung his door open once more in resignation and sauntered over to his decanter without another word; the door clicked closed behind him followed by soft, measured footsteps.

“What is it?”

“I just wanted –,”

Magnus sighed before Alec could continue and handed the Shadowhunter a drink. “Sit and then speak. But if this is about what happened at the Institute, I don’t want to hear any of it.” He took a seat on the couch opposite of the Nephilim and crossed his legs elegantly, poised in waiting. “Well?” He prompted when he was met with silence.

“I’m sorry I said… what I said so abruptly. You don’t know me and I know it’s hard to understand but I,” Alec trailed off and took a brave gulp of the smooth wine, face scrunched as if the burn of alcohol was new, before continuing, “I really admire you and the work you’ve done keeping the Downworlders safe. It’s… I’m not here because of the Clave and I didn’t approach you for them either. I’m here… I’m here because –,”

“Don’t say it.” Magnus snapped.

Alec shifted uneasily and eventually said softly, “Because I want to learn from the best.”

“That is hardly more believable than the other… ‘reason.’” Magnus knocked back his drink and placed his glass on the coffee table with a loud clatter. “Listen, Alexander, I don’t care for the Clave nor do I care for any Nephilim for that matter. Whether or not you’re telling me the truth really doesn’t matter to me because whatever you say, whatever you do, I won’t agree to you following me around or assisting me in any way.”

He snapped his fingers to refill the Shadowhunter’s drink as a courtesy since he was a fantastic host and not an animal and then went on, “What I do involves many interesting information that I know first-hand the Clave would love to get their hands on. Nothing you say or do will remotely sway me so do me and yourself a favour and stop this.”

His fingers twitched and his door slammed open in an obvious cue of dismissal. He eyed it pointedly and then stood up, faced away from the Shadowhunter, to wait for his unwanted guest to leave. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t get his wish and Alec merely stood up to stand side-by-side with him.

“I’ll be an important asset for you as the Head of the New York Institute.”

The words were said hesitantly and lightly as if Alec knew exactly how foolish the offer was as an esteemed Shadowhunter. Magnus nearly broke his neutral facial expression to give way for absolute shock. He swallowed and leant back to face the Nephilim who was now uncharacteristically ignoring eye-contact.

Oh, how the situation has reversed.

“And what exactly can I expect from you being my asset?”

Alec’s brows furrowed and an irritatingly-familiar stubborn look crossed the Shadowhunter’s face. “I had my sister destroy the evidence of you being anywhere near Raj’s body for starters.”

Of all the things Magnus was expecting or not-expecting to hear, he had definitely not considered something like what had just been said. His eyes widened incredulously and he let out a short breath. “Why?” He asked as he shook his head near-imperceptibly. “That envoy will bury your whole family for that – you’re useless to me.”

“Please,” Alec’s emphasised with a stronger tone as their eyes finally met. “I’m more competent than you’re giving me credit for. Besides, the envoy was sent back to Idris and thanks to your gift to the Clave, they have agreed to back off.”

“For now,” Magnus remarked idly.

Alec tilted his head in acquiescence. “Let me take care of the Clave for you.”

“And what do you want in return, Alexander?”

The Shadowhunter blurted out two words with an incredibly red face, an outstanding blush stark against Alec’s pale skin, and Magnus would be lying if he said it wasn’t at least a little bit endearing. He touched a scorching hot cheek with two fingertips and stepped a little closer and then muttered a short, “no.”

At once, Alec’s whole face fell and an annoying ringing disturbed them. The Nephilim fumbled a little with a flashing phone taken from a bulging pocket and muttered, “I’ll think of something else,” before bolting like a heartbroken mundane.

Magnus rubbed his chest to soothe the strange ache there as he crossed the length of his living room to watch the Shadowhunter walk away from his window; the Nephilim becoming steadily downtrodden and soaked by the pouring rain.

“A date, huh?”

  Peace was a hard thing to come by these days, Magnus grumbled internally when another round of knocks disturbed mere hours later. As much as he’d love to ignore it, he was the High Warlock and he cherished his position along with all its responsibilities which, at that moment, meant he should open his door.

“Lucian,” He greeted none-too-enthused before he, much like earlier, went straight for his bar cart. “This isn’t a social visit I take it.” His tone was forcibly airy as he poured them both generous helpings of bourbon. “I admit, I’m not in the best of moods currently.”

“Then I won’t beat around the bush.” Luke accepted the drink with a grateful smile. “Maia was an inch away from death earlier tonight.”

“Maia…” Magnus’ grip tightened on his glass and a fragile crack let him know he was about to make a mess on his Egyptian carpet. “You don’t seem too worried.”

“She’s a tough kid. She’s fine now but I saw who did it.” Luke explained through gritted teeth. The werewolf’s green eyes were ablaze, body muscles shifting unnaturally as it fought to turn. “It was Elias.”

Magnus stopped breathing for a moment and the dark anticipation that had been building up inside of him at the prospect of hunting down his prey dropped away with a shocked jolt as the name registered in his mind. “Elias?” He stared at his hand, remembering all the time he had spent teaching the younger man to be a more skilled warlock.

“Elias.” Betrayal morphed into anger as he growled out the traitor’s name and he twisted around to blast his collection of fine spirits with excessive magic force. They exploded loudly and disappeared into a cloud of red electricity; not a single drop ruined the carpet.

“He portalled away before I could capture him.” Luke said, eyes on the volatile magic still singeing the air when he continued, “I trust you’ll deal with him?”

Magnus’ glamour dropped and he let the full force of his golden cat eyes out. “Naturally.”

“Great, I’ll –,” Luke paused and produced a vibrating phone from a pocket. “Clary…”

 When they arrived at the Institute, it was a carnage; bodies were everywhere and half the building had crumbled down. Magnus tapped his hand against Luke’s chest to stop the man from charging in. “Be on high alert. If Elias is involved then we can be sure of one thing: he’s not working alone.”

He parted ways with Luke after the warning and used his magic to clear his path, uncaring of where the debris went so long as they didn’t soil his expensive clothes. His magic kept on blasting everything away from his path as he stalked through the mess until he spotted the distant hysterical figure of Isabelle Lightwood.

His brows furrowed as he saw her battle against an unknown warlock who was, though weak, very quick in dealing out attacks. She was holding her own but as he got closer, he realised that she was continuously glancing at her side where a terribly injured Alec stood tall against a stronger female warlock.

With a simple swipe of his hand, he used his magic to jail the weaker warlock much like he did with Camille and relieved Isabelle of her adversary; she didn’t waste time and merely nodded curtly at him in thanks before running to support her brother. His glamour was still down when he stood before the cell to survey the young warlock who cowered upon seeing him.

He smirked and snapped his fingers to send the jailed warlock to the Clave as well then twisted around to check on the Lightwoods. His eyebrows raised when he found that he had to stretch his hand out immediately in order to block an attack from injuring him and his alertness increased as, before the red sparks could completely fizzle out before him, the female warlock threw a mundane punch at him.

Magnus ducked quickly, reared back his clawed hand and then slashed the other warlock’s thigh. She collapsed onto the ground though quickly recovered with a snarl, her hair whipped back as she thrust her hand at his lower back. His heart skipped as he knew he wouldn’t block in time whilst he was faced away from her so he gambled: he twisted his body mid-movement to allow himself space to grab her hand but he felt a wave of heat against his back and knew he was too late.

He closed his eyes with a cringe and recoiled back when a hand landed on his face.

It took a moment to feel the gentleness of the hand and he opened his eyes to see Isabelle examine him like he was a patient in a hospital. Her smile was wide and genuine when their eyes met and she patted him on the shoulder with a sincere, “I’m glad you’re fine. I just incapacitated her with my whip so you can take her if you want.” She smiled again before going after her big brother once more.

He stood there for a minute longer, eyes wide and hand half-way up to touch his face as his whole body buzzed with a foreign yet nostalgic feeling. With a rigorous shake of his head, however, he switched his focus back to the fight and headed over to the Lightwood siblings; they were fighting against four Ravener demons; though two of them were well on their way back to Hell.

His eyebrows raised in disbelief when he saw that Alec’s stubbornness bled into every aspect of the Nephilim’s life; the Shadowhunter had sustained a profusely bleeding injury on the side yet was still fighting. He rolled his eyes, slid past the Nephilim with a tap on Alec’s back to notify the Shadowhunter of his presence and took over the battle.

The two near-dead Ravener demons disappeared in a fall of sparks by his hands as the third lunged at him. He sunk his hand into its chest, fingers curled in, and after a brush of the damn thing’s tentacles, blew the demon up. His magic sparked violently when he felt a strange swipe at his nape and he was unable to avoid the splatter of demon vile because of it.

Blinded by the disgusting liquid that covered his eyes, he took a step back and tried to ward off an attack by putting his hands up in front of him but got caught in a tangle of limbs. He fell hard onto the ground with a heavy weight on top of him and grunted in pain from the debris that dug into his back.

An electrifying zap along with Isabelle’s loud roar later and he was relieved of the weight on top of him. He cleaned his face with a snap of his freed hand and nearly gasped when the first thing he saw was a tentacle sticking out of Alec’s already severely-injured side. His hands grappled on the cluttered ground as he moved to kneel down beside the Nephilim’s unmoving, bleeding form.

The Shadowhunter was, for the second time since they had met, clammy and horribly pale. He swiftly flicked his wrist to lift Alec from the ground and followed as Isabelle led the way to the same bedroom he had been privy to a few days ago. He laid the Nephilim on the bed slowly and nearly dropped the Shadowhunters when his magic stuttered in the middle of process.

“Are you okay?”

Magnus looked at Isabelle weirdly, hand fisted to contain the trembling, and wondered why on earth the Nephilim was bothering with more pleasantries when her brother was dying slowly before them. He crouched down, placed his hand on Alec’s bloody chest and pushed his magic in to search for what he needed to heal immediately. His muscles quivered inside him from the magical strain but he powered through, ignored the tell-tale signs of exhaustion and fed his some of his life force into Alec to heal the injury at an unnatural speed.

When it closed shut without even a trace of scar, he let out a relieved sigh and then proceeded to extract the flow of his life force from the Shadowhunter’s body – except he couldn’t. He physically pulled his hand away from Alec’s chest with much effort, terrified, and the connection snapped violently, suddenly. His arm flung to the side as an effect and his magic blasted off the items on top of the side table, startling Isabelle who, for a split-second, turned into a spitting image of Raj in his mind’s eye.

He took in short breaths, eyes blown wide, and didn’t even flinch when Isabelle gathered his hands and to proceed to rub them soothingly. “I –,” His breathing stuttered and he looked at the Shadowhunter speechlessly.

“What is it you need?”

Magnus licked his lips and pulled his hands away to step closer towards Alec’s body. “I’m going to have to bring your brother to my loft for the duration of recovery. There’s something I’d like to check and it’ll be easier there.”

“Of course,” Isabelle replied immediately. “Let me help.”

  Pandemonium was the Kingdom where Magnus was King. It was his safe space, his real estate baby. It was the product of his passion, his love, his blood, his sweat, and his tears. But most of all, it was the safe haven for Downworlders and he couldn’t be fucked why there were filthy Shadowhunters in it.

Clary was in front of him in a simple black dress with a rather unfortunate-looking blonde Shadowhunter as a companion. And, oh – Alec breezed past him with a furious look and he followed the Nephilim’s movements interestedly to see a dead Circle member soiling his precious floor with the blood that seeped out of the chest pierced through by a red-fletched arrow.

But then a smile crossed his face, unbidden, as he felt mildly impressed by the fact that Alec had apparently shot the arrow from Hell-knows-where. He did not expect the Shadowhunter to wield a bow and arrow of all things but it wasn’t an unpleasant thought. Plus, the Nephilim was rather attractive looking so competent, he decided as Alec flipped a seraph blade with ease.

His stomach fluttered with the beginnings of a butterfly.

Magnus sat up on the bed, surprised at himself for dreaming such a thing, and stifled a jump when a hot hand carefully rested on his shoulder blade. He let out a breath and shook his head at himself for falling asleep beside the Shadowhunter. “Go back to sleep, Alexander.” His tone was weird but he supposed he could be forgiven when he just uttered such words that reminded of long-forgotten domesticity.

“Are you alright, Magnus?” Alec questioned so very softly.

“I’m fine,” Magnus replied hoarsely though he could laugh at how unconvincing he sounded. He was so far from fine; his magic was still depleted, his glamour was down and he had an acquaintance to track down – nothing was fine.  “I’m just tired. Sleep, Alexander, I rather not keep you here to recover for longer than necessary.”

Alec predictably ignored his last words. “Please.”

“Just go back to sleep,” Magnus repeated tiredly.

“I just want to know if you’re alright.”

Magnus rubbed his face with his hands and sighed loudly. “My glamour is down and I can’t put it back up because I wasted my magic on you, is that enough?” He winced internally at his own stupidity for revealing that he was in a weak state and stiffened reflexively, awaiting for a fight though he knew it would be a fair one with the Shadowhunter still weak.

“Your cat eyes?” Alec whispered somewhere close to reverence.

“You Nephilim are truly nosy,” Magnus commented in annoyance. “Do me a favour and purge my file of personal details.” He requested carelessly, fuelled by obvious irritation. “Fucking –,”

“Can I see?”

Magnus almost did as asked when he moved to level a glare at the Shadowhunter but he caught himself in time. “What part of anything I said made you think I’d show you?”

Again, Alec ignored his words. “Please, can I see?”

“Fine,” Magnus muttered before he realised what he had just said. He could have cursed himself for it but he didn’t because for whatever strange reason, he wanted to show his eyes and test the Nephilim’s intentions. His inhale was short and the next second he was looking behind him, cat eyes bright and he felt vulnerable for the first time in a very long time.

He stiffened when Alec shifted forward to reach out and hold his face gently, heart thudding as loud as a thundering roar inside of him. Their breaths hitched at the same time and the Shadowhunter’s genuinely awed expression largely thawed his ice-encapsulated heart. He rose up a little when Alec suddenly cupped his face and neck and then he swallowed cautiously, sure his eyes were blown wide.

“They’re beautiful.” Alec’s smile was breathtaking.

Magnus searched Alec’s eyes as his own were searched and the beginnings of a true smile crept along his lips; he felt like a dehydrated man given a drop of water whilst in the midst of a drought. His eyes softened and for a moment he felt like transporting them both into a heavenly dimension with an earth-shattering kiss but it passed and instead he curled his ring-laden fingers around Alec’s wrist.

And there they stayed for a long time whilst many moments passed, one after the other, with him just staring into the Alec’s eyes and for once he felt like his old self who still believed in love.

  The loft was quiet save for the clinking of glass and metal as Magnus made himself a dry martini. He had managed to take back the life energy he had fed into Alec’s body. There would always be a trace left behind however though he was trying his hardest to ignore that fact.

In the first place, it was frowned upon to use such method let alone on a Nephilim. However, his decision was made with a snap – though this time not literally – and he could hardly regret it when it was quite obvious Alec had sustained a worse injury by blocking the attack meant for him. After all, far be it for him to let anyone, even a Shadowhunter, die from protecting him when he could save them even when that meant he might be criticised severely for it were anyone to find out.

He poured the stirred martini into a martini glass and sipped as he went to sit on his couch before he continued ruminating.

The last time he had been so terrified of his own magic was when it had been corrupted by Camille after a few too many sips of her blood. It was an ill-advised decision he had done in the name of crippling love and one he would never fall for again knowingly; feelings clouded rational judgement all too much. At least, that’s what he told himself a century ago yet here he was, Alec in his bedroom and a dark cloud of foreboding over his head.

His phone flashed and he silenced it with a wave before it could make any noise.

 Lucian Garroway

[Azazel is working with the enemy. Can you send him back to hell?]

 Magnus Bane

[He’s a Prince of Hell. Do you expect me to just wave my hand?]

 Lucian Garroway

[How can I help?]

 Magnus Bane

[I’ll let you know.]

 The doorbell rang then and he barely restrained himself from muttering a well-deserved, “for fuck’s sake.” He downed his martini and tossed it away then stalked over to his door to open it only to wish he never did. His glare must have delivered his message well enough as they all had the decency to look down.

“Sorry,” Clary started, “I know it’s late and you’re helping Alec recover but –,”

Magnus sighed impatiently. “But what?”

“Luke said you might need help summoning Azazel or killing him or whatever it is and we want to offer our help and strength if you need it.”

“Why does he bother to text if he’s just going to send you lot anyway?” Magnus huffed but swept his arm in a welcoming gesture because, unhappy as he was, he needed the help if he was to do this now. And he would be doing so as he’d like to not have any more bloodshed nor for the body count to increase any more. “Do you draw well?”

Clary’s lips stretched into a thrilled smile. “Yes, I’m an art student.”

“Really,” Magnus eyed her from head-to-toe just to check if she really was a Shadowhunter or not. He had never heard of any Nephilim that was at the beck-and-call of the New York Werewolf Pack nor one that mingled with mundanes enough to study in one of the colleges. An art student of all things… Honestly, the New York Institute became stranger the more he learned about the people there. “Draw this on the floor then.” He handed her a paper and then snapped his fingers.

An opened door appeared in the middle of the living room to reveal a church’s interior complete with odd white statues. He peered into it interestedly to check the vicinity then summoned a chalk set for Clary. She grabbed it from the air with a wide excited smile and went through the door without hesitation followed by the rest of the Nephilim.

He eyed the unfortunate-looking blonde one strangely as the Shadowhunter moved past him, certain it was the same Shadowhunter he had seen in his dreams though perhaps it was just because he saw the man somewhere during the attack on the Institute. His wards rippled then and he glanced towards his bedroom in time to see Alec step out looking well-rested and recovered.

“Magnus?”

“Alexander, I have business to attend to,” Magnus explained as he valiantly ignored the fluttering in his stomach from the rough voice with which his name was said. “Feel free to lounge around and eat whatever is edible in my kitchen but don’t touch anything other than my furniture and television.”

“Where are you going?” Alec came closer and looked into the open door. “Is that – why are they there?”

Magnus tried to block the view with his body. “Something undoubtedly too dangerous to involve you in your current state.”

“Oh.” Alec’s lips twitched up. “I appreciate that but I doubt you can summon anyone with only four of you. Besides, I only need to stand there and nothing else, right?”

The silence stretched long enough for Clary to try to re-enter the portal door back into the loft to no avail as Magnus fought to not gape at the Nephilim’s knowledge of warlock summoning markings.

“Fine; you are right about that.”

  Ten candles lit up the intersecting points of the Pentagram on the concrete ground and with one look at the determined faces of all the Shadowhunters, Magnus began the summoning. A line glowed with the fire of Hell after every demand that streamed from his lips and every grand movement of his arms. “Come, Azazel.”

The Pentagram glowed then between one breath and the next and then Azazel materialised in the middle of the mystical confinement with a force of gravity so immense they were all thrown out of their positions. It was a familiar lick of Hell’s fire within his veins, scorching and torturous, that greeted him when he hit the ground but he couldn’t fight the source of his own power off so he focused on keeping his eyes open as Azazel stalked over.

He glared with a rough mixture of pain, fear and hatred when Azazel dared to touch him. His gasp was loud, he knew though he could barely hear it through the ringing in his ears, as the pain doubled with the touch. “Azazel,” he rasped.

“Tsk, tsk, you dare summon me?”

Magnus grimaced and glared hard. “I will kill you.”

“Not if I kill you first, little Bane.” Azazel smiled then and let go. “But I’d be waging war against Asmodeus and you’re far too inconsequential to endure such hassle for.”

Magnus shuddered and his eyes widened as a final jolt of crippling pain ran through his spine. His view of the world around him spun and spun and spun until he could hardly tell what was up or down, whether he was still on the ground or not, and then – then, strong yet gentle hands cradled his body up from the floor and he was being embraced.

“Are you okay?” Alec murmured worriedly, brows furrowed and lips pressed into a firm line.

Magnus took a moment to gather himself as the world came to a still once more. His cheeks burned from the intimate position but he hadn’t the energy to reject the help. The attack on his blood and magic had left him even weaker and he supposed he should be thankful that he was with Shadowhunters who could recover much quicker from the demonic attack. “Fine.” He finished.

Alec looked supremely unconvinced. “If you don’t mind, I can carry you back to the loft,” the Shadowhunter said and before Magnus could say another word, continued, “Don’t worry, the others are guarding the exits so they aren’t around.”

“I don’t suppose it’d be reasonable to say no.” Magnus rasped out.

“No,” Alec replied, face stiffened though it wasn’t in anger or anything. On the contrary, he seemed ready to bust out a megawatt grin. “Hang tight.”

Magnus reluctantly wrapped his arms around Alec’s broad shoulders and held tight with as much dignity as he could muster considering the circumstance. He consoled himself by ensuring that he felt up the young Shadowhunter whilst he could without being obvious about it.

When they passed through the portal and into the loft’s threshold, Alec deposited him on a couch then went straight for the kitchen. He watched the Shadowhunter go and then snapped his fingers to close the portal when Alec disappeared from view. His body was trembling worryingly and he noted this distantly, as his mind refocused on the name Azazel had mentioned so carelessly earlier.

He hadn’t thought about the Greater Demon that had brought about his existence onto Earth in a very long time. Ever since that day he had summoned Asmodeus to answer his curiosities, he had thrown the name and memory into the deepest, darkest depths of his mind. The answers he had received that day had shattered him and for many years after he had been lost and devastated.

To possess the same eyes and blood as such an evil creature had confirmed his most terrible insecurities and for a very dark decade, he had believed himself to be what he had been accused of as a child – a demon.

Magnus inhaled sharply Alec knelt down before him and it was only then that he felt a tear slide down his cheek. His eyes were his weakness, he thought, and they always conveyed his vulnerabilities. Still, he met the Shadowhunter’s eyes and noted idly that Alec was somehow more handsome with so much care etched onto fair features.

His eyes fluttered closed briefly when a warm hand cupped his face, the weight warm and reassuring and so different to Azazel’s. He relaxed infinitesimally and leant into the heat for affection. “You don’t have to stay. Your presence must be required after the devastating attack to the Institute,” he murmured softly.

“Izzy is more than capable of handling things,” Alec dismissed gently but with confidence. “All I’m worried about is you. I want to help if you’ll allow me.”

Magnus slumped into the warm hand tiredly. “I really should say no,” he mumbled to himself.

“You can lean on me, Magnus.”

The words were laced with painful sincerity and rendered Magnus incapable of rejecting the offer nor the hug he was pulled into afterwards. His heart skipped a beat when Alec’s warm body pressed against his and he eventually allowed himself to sink into the comforting embrace.

Strangely, it felt like coming home.

  Cool wind filtered in through the open balcony door and blew through Magnus’ hair which hung limply over his face. His lips downturned slightly and his eyelashes fluttered sleepily as he roused. Ring-laden hands rose up to rub at his smudged eyes before they opened to peek at the low-lit living room and the blanket he was tucked into shifted down to collect on his lap.

He stretched lazily on the couch to deal with the kinks that came with sleeping on a couch and then completely pulled off the blanket from his body with a curious look since he knew he wouldn’t have had the energy or care to have used one. His eyes darted around his living room for any signs of life and he huffed out a disbelieving sigh when he saw that his coffee table was filled with plates of food and a pitcher of water along with a glass.

“Ridiculous Nephilim…” He muttered though he’d dare not admit to even himself that he sounded the least bit fond. His eyes lit up when he noticed a seraph blade on the carpeted floor and he cast a feel to his wards for the location of the missing Alec. He found him along with Clary’s energy signature and figured that she was the one who had brought the food.

The odd bunch of Shadowhunters that the New York Institute housed was disconcerting.

His attention strayed over to his blinking phone and he picked it up to check the time as well as the messages he had on there. There were a few from Catarina, a rare occurrence, and one from Ragnor, even rarer. He opened up their texts only to feel a trickle of cold fear at the panicked messages and the alarming situation: Azazel was poisoning the minds of the New York Institute Shadowhunters.

He called Catarina first with a sense of urgency in his mind and a slight sense of relief that Alec – and Clary – were in his home, safe away from harm. His phone rang once, twice, thrice and he was ready to call Ragnor instead when he heard a click and finally Catarina’s voice came through.

“Magnus, where have you been?”

“Is everything back to normal?” Magnus countered.

Catarina made an impatient noise from the other line. “Yes. Ragnor and I have managed to lift the spell on the Shadowhunters but Azazel is still out there and we need to send him back to Hell.”

“We need to hunt Elias down as well.”

“Ragnor is on it.” Catarina dismissed. “I’ll handle the Nephilim and the rebuilding of their Institute. These children need all the help they can get after all.”

“And I suppose you want me to handle Azazel?” Magnus questioned sarcastically. He was already feeling exhausted once more and he hadn’t even moved from his spot. “I need time to recover.”

“Recover?”

Magnus ran his hand through his hair and slid off his couch to grab a Chinese take-out box. “It’s a long story. I’ll deal with Azazel tomorrow, alright?”

“Rest and I’ll check up on you when I’m done here.”

“I will, Cat.” Magnus promised, a slight smile on his face at the care and concern in his friend’s voice. “Keep me updated on Elias’ status, will you?” He asked as he grabbed some utensils to dig in for his first bite.

“Remember to sleep. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Magnus rolled his eyes when the line died. He tossed his phone aside and began to seriously dig into his food whilst he silently dreamed of an eight-ounce steak, medium-rare, and copious amounts of martini. His eyes drooped a little when he was nearly done and he set aside the box lest he soil his clothes.

He was contemplating between going back to sleep or taking a boiling hot bath when he heard a loud shrill from his rooftop where he was quite certain his Shadowhunter guests still were. His arm hairs rose in alarm and he bolted off his couch with the least bit of finesse to hurry up the roof.

Outside, his wards flared and became impenetrable at his command.

His hand fumbled with the doorknob to the roof and he was reduced to flinging it open with his magic in time to see Alec tip over the edge of his balcony ledge. He raised his hand in shocked reflex, his breath hitched in his throat, and caught Alec a hair’s breadth away from plunging into an irreversible death.

“Oh my god,” Clary gasped.

“What happened?” Magnus questioned as he lowered Alec onto the nearest chair, his brows furrowed. He ran his fingers through the unruly black hair and pressed a hand against a runed neck to check the pulse; the beat was steady and slow.

Clary wrapped her arms around herself before answering. “Azazel was here.”

“What?” Magnus whipped his face to the side, startled, as he pushed some of his magic into Alec. His wards rippled visibly behind her and he closed his eyes in annoyance for having not noticed that there was subtle change to it. It was a rookie mistake and one he wouldn’t excuse himself for even if he was too weak to have realised such thing without cause at the moment. “Tell me everything.”

“Azazel came through a portal. He said he’d taken some of your magic earlier so he could get past your wards then he tried to attack us. Alec got in the way and he was hit by some sort of spell but he seemed fine whilst he fought with Azazel. It wasn’t until Azazel escaped that…” Clary shrugged. “Well, I’m not exactly sure what happened but in the next moment he was saying a lot of things then went to stand on the ledge. He… He refused to listen to anything I said. It was like I wasn’t even here.”

“What was he saying?”

Clary shifted uneasily. “It’s not really… my place to say.”

“...alright.” Magnus raised an eyebrow at her then shook his head. “Alec isn’t the only Shadowhunter affected by Azazel tonight. The New York Institute was targeted but my friends have taken care of the situation. I had thought you would be safe here but clearly, I was wrong.”

He snapped his fingers and his wards shimmered bright yellow for a few seconds before settling down into solid blackness. “Stay the night, why don’t you? Both of you. You’ve been through an ordeal after all and I’d be a terrible host otherwise.” His tone was light but he made sure she knew it wasn’t a question.

“Thanks,” Clary’s lips quirked up a little to convey a grateful smile then her gaze shifted to Alec’s subdued form.

“Down the stairs, first door on the right,” Magnus spoke up before she could say anything. “Feel free to grab some food and drinks in the kitchen if you need some, otherwise everything you may need for the night will be in the room.”

The door leading back into the loft opened up invitingly with a snap of his fingers and he watched her go before turning around to observe Alec’s slumbering form. He traced his fingertips along a creased forehead and smoothed the lines there whilst he allowed a little of his magic to seep through the skin in order to dispel any lingering magic from Azazel’s spell.

His focus on the task was such that, without realising it, he had bowed down so close to the other and by the time he noticed, Alec’s eyes were opening slowly and all he could do was hold his breath because he was suddenly overwhelmed. It was an odd feeling, not unwanted but strange, and he could see the same conflicted emotions swirling inside Alec’s expressive eyes.

He shivered a little when a warm hand curved familiarly around his neck and his eyes fluttered closed when their foreheads met. His breaths shortened with every inhale of the gently sweet scent that could only be Alec’s and his heart quivered dangerously inside his chest. “Alexander,” he whispered.

“Don’t go.”

Magnus screwed his eyes shut even more tightly at the soft, vulnerable pleading. He carefully slid his fingers down Alec’s check to cover the other’s neck with his hand and then tilted the other’s face closer until their noses touched. His heart was beating even faster in confusion and trepidation but he ignored it and he let himself bask in the gentleness of the situation. “I won’t,” he promised, foolishly, stupidly, and hopefully.

Even with his eyes closed, he felt Alec’s smile.

  “And so?” Magnus raised a brow from behind his martini.

Ragnor was sat across from him beside Catarina like the old married couple they always seemed to be when together, the signature surly expression ever-present. “Elias was not acting alone. There is a group out there under Azazel’s control.”

“Names?”

“Iris Rouse and Kaelie Whitewillow are the only ones left,” Catarina informed. “We’ve already alerted the Seelie Queen and she has explicitly promised to deal with Kaelie.”

Magnus rolled his eyes and took a generous sip of his martini. “Good, then we only have to deal with Iris and Azazel.” He twirled the glass with his fingers and watched as the liquid swirled. “What did you do with Elias?��

“I sent him to the Clave since dirty work is about all they’re good for.” Ragnor smirked.

“True enough,” Magnus took a long sip. “I sent Camille to them; she’d been nurturing feeding dens again.” He sighed and put his martini away when he saw that his phone was blinking so he could pick up the device to check his notifications. “Did Elias not change when you lifted off Azazel’s spell?”

“Hard to say but Azazel can only prey upon what’s already inside a person’s mind so they must have their own reasons to have done what they did.” Catarina explained. “There is no excuse.”

“Right…” Magnus acknowledged distractedly as he read the multiple garbled messages from Isabelle. He rubbed at his furrowed brows for a few seconds before he finally gave up on trying to decipher the mess and called her. “Something must be happening to the Nephilim again. They’re helpless.”

“You sound disturbingly fond,” Ragnor remarked in mild disgust.

Magnus clenched his jaw and glared. “I am not.” He raised a hand to keep his friend from speaking up again when the call went through and he could hear the loud noise of alarms going off from the other side. The wave of worry that sparked through him unsettled him. “High Warlock of Brooklyn,” he greeted cautiously.

“Hel – Can someone shut that down?!” The alarms went silent. “Finally. Hello?”

“Yes?” Magnus prompted.

“Oh by the Angel, you’re late.”

Magnus raised a brow. “You do realise I’m not at the beck and call of the Shadowhunters?”

“Of course, I do. It’s just – Azazel was here a while ago so I called you for help.”

“What?” Magnus stood up swiftly in attention.

“Everything’s fine now! He’s dead so there’s no need to worry about him anymore.”

Magnus rubbed at his jaw. “Who killed him? Was anyone affected by Azazel’s spell?”

“Alec did!” Isabelle sounded immensely proud and rightly so. “And no, we’re all fine. Could you… could you still come over though? I need to talk to you – preferably not over the phone. And I’d go over but… Alec’s in a bit of a high so I’m acting Head right now and that means I need to stay.”

“Is it urgent?”

“Yeah… Yeah, it is.”

Magnus pursed his lips. “Alright, I’ll be there in five.” He hung up without awaiting a reply and then picked up his martini to down the remaining contents. “My presence is needed at the Institute. I’ll see you all later.” His friends waved him away and he snapped himself a portal.

A second later and he was outside the Institute. It was fully repaired and stood tall in all its glory as if the attack a few days ago hadn’t happened. He silently commended Catarina on her exemplary repair work as he eyed the Shadowhunters running about, some practicing on the grounds and the rest running into the Institute from somewhere.

From the crowd spilling in through the doors, he saw Alec rush out with a troubled, vacant expression. The Shadowhunter bolted down the steps in a hurry and wildly looked around in search of something or someone. He edged slowly towards the Nephilim, unsure whether he wanted to speak to Alec so soon after what had happened in his rooftop, but the choice was taken out of his hands when he noticed that the Shadowhunter was murmuring his name.

An ungodly flutter passed his stomach and he was reaching out to catch the Nephilim’s black jacket sleeve before he could think about it with a terrifyingly vulnerable feeling he was sure was present on his face. Alec pulled him into a hug immediately and whilst he reciprocated it in reflex at first, he eventually tightened his hold on the shaking Shadowhunter tightly – but with his eyes closed because he could not deal with seeing the other Nephilim stare.

It was a short hug, thank Hell.

He cast a worried look at Alec when they pulled apart; the Shadowhunter’s hand on his upper arm burned but he ignored it in lieu of focusing on the Nephilim’s panting and insane words. He stared in awed shock, unsure why the same words were being repeated to him after his harsh reaction the first time and oddly pleasantly surprised by the sincerity in the other’s eyes. Still, he shook his head and swallowed and then said, “Alexander, I’m sorry.”

Magnus saw the heartbreak break through the haggard look on Alec’s face and was about to say something else when he was grabbed and the next thing he was aware of was that he was being kissed. His eyes closed from the suddenness but despite the screaming in his mind, he merely hovered his hands uncertainly by the Shadowhunter’s back. As the kiss deepened, his defences cracked and between one moment and the next, he had surrendered willingly and was kissing back.

He let out a small gasp when they parted and murmured a short, “Alexander.” His face scrunched up as he let himself revel in the closeness of their foreheads and noses touching so gently and his heart beat harder when he was embraced once more and this time, he felt his defences shatter completely.

It wasn’t as terrifying as he thought it would be.

  The sun was setting when Magnus returned to his loft with a bumbling Simon in tow. His meeting with Isabelle had both been illuminating and disappointing, the information he had gotten certainly enough for him to visit Raphael later to give the Clan Leader a good long lecture. First, however, was the fledgling that was still going on and on with excuses.

He stalked across his loft the living room to sit down on his couch as the fledgling continued to yammer on. Irritated, he snapped his fingers to slam the balcony doors closed and effectively ceased the endless stream of nonsense. His expression must have been incredibly unhappy because Simon took one glance at him then promptly sat on the floor with a bowed head. “What you did –,”

“It wasn’t – I… I only introduced her to it because it was new for me too and I didn’t know better. Honestly, I thought she stopped when I did! Besides, it’s because of me those dens are no longer up and running so –,”

“Shut up.” Magnus rubbed his forehead to stave off an oncoming migraine. “I don’t care if you started going to those dens because of Camille or not. You introduced Isabelle to the pleasures of the vampire bite and stopping her addiction to it was your responsibility. If she hadn’t come to me for help, she’d have spiralled down into an addiction neither you nor I could have saved her from without excruciating pain.”

Simon’s head shot up. “Does that mean you can still help her without it hurting?”

“Yes.” Magnus glared. “But that doesn’t excuse your disappointing lack of accountability.” He stood up and pointed at the fledgling who recoiled in fear. “Stay here while I take care of Isabelle then we’re leaving and I’ll have Raphael deal with you.”

He pivoted and went up to the rooftop where Isabelle was waiting, having arrived by portal. “This will only take a moment.” She smiled gratefully at him and he could see her former beauty shining through her pasty skin and the bags under her eyes. “It’s really a good thing you came to me so soon. Two more days and the recovery would be akin to having an agony rune active on your skin without pause.”

Isabelle swallowed visibly. “Seeing my brother shaken from adrenaline, I realised I shouldn’t be so complacent about the fact that I’ve been shaking for a good few days,” She explained. “I needed the push to make me remember that I’m a scientist and I know better.”

“It’s a good thing.” Magnus snapped his fingers for his spell book and it appeared in his hand, open to the required page. “Stay still and don’t fight the magic.” His magic dusted the air blue as he waved his hand and he began the recovery spell.

  Night had properly fallen and it was about time to depart for Raphael’s yet Magnus was stood on his balcony, his attention divided between the latest fashion video playing on his floating phone and the ball of magic he was lazily playing with. It was only when a message popped up in the middle of his screen that he noted the time and the unconscious smile that had been on his lips previously faded into a faint memory.

Annoyed at the disturbance, he threw his magical ball carelessly behind him with more force than necessary. He heard a soft noise from behind followed by a yelp and withheld a snort before he whirled around to let Simon know the change in plans but was faced with Alec instead.

“Alexander,” he uttered, surprised.

“Uh…”

Magnus blinked and wrangled his expression into a neutral one when he realised it was, in fact, Simon staring at him and he had apparently conjured up Alec from his imagination. “Alexander,” he repeated as he rapidly thought up something to say, “Will be furious when he hears about Isabelle.”

“Does – Does he know?” Simon stuttered, looking, if possible, even more terrified.

“Who knows?” Magnus countered distractedly. He could still remember, clear as day, all the times he did pest control at his club and kicked out every damn Nephilim, especially Circle members, that dared walked through his club but there he was, imagining a Shadowhunter in his home. “Fuck.”

“What’s this?”

Magnus turned to Simon then promptly ducked as a magical force blasted hotly above his back and destroyed his bookcase. He snapped his fingers and banished the artefact from the fledgling’s stunned hands. “Hands off my property.”

“Er.” Simon’s hands rose in surrender. “Sorry.”

Rolling his eyes, Magnus summoned a portal into existence and ushered the fledgling in before any more damage could be done. He stepped through afterwards and quickly sensed that something was wrong. His magic sparked angrily and he left the frozen Simon at the entrance hallway for the dining room to see a Nephilim beating Raphael up.

Fury crawled his veins as he stopped the Shadowhunter’s fist from a distance with his magic and gritted his teeth when Angel strength warred with his powers. His jaw clenched in even more anger when he saw Raphael’s blood pool on the polished floor and he tightened his hold on the Nephilim before pulling inwards strongly; the Shadowhunter crashed landed on the floor with a loud thud.

Magnus’ emotions curdled up into a mess inside of his chest when he saw that the Nephilim wasn’t just anyone but Alec. He stared at the Shadowhunter blankly and regretted his earlier comment to Simon now that he had seen the effect of Isabelle’s situation coming to light.

“What –,” Alec’s head snapped up, anger written all over the handsome face which drained away with dizzying speed when their eyes met. “Magnus?”

“Not the best impression after kissing me, mind you, but it’s not the worst, I’ll give you that.” Magnus remarked in a plain tone, still refusing to comprehend that Alec had just been beating up someone he considered his son in the privacy of his mind. He moved on without another word and crouched down by Raphael’s side who grimaced in pain and roughly wiped off blood from a split lip. “Stop,” he commanded.

Raphael lowered his hand but a scowl appeared in the midst of the grimace.

“You know I’m right and you’re just making it worse.” Magnus swiped his finger over his friend’s face and cleared the blood off. “I’m not healing you,” he informed and Raphael’s lips turned down by the sides even more. “You don’t deserve it for being a poor leader to Simon. I will leave Simon here and you will teach him everything he must know to the best of your abilities while I clean up the rest of the mess with the Lightwoods. Alright?”

“Yes,” Raphael muttered.

“Good. Take care of yourself and don’t ignore the fledgling.” Magnus stood up to check on Alec but the other was already standing by the door with an upset expression. He trailed his eyes over the body he had held in his arms so intimately just yesterday and found himself incredibly conflicted with how not angry he felt at Alec for laying a hand on Raphael.

“I know.”

Magnus peered over his shoulder at Raphael and raised a brow. “Know what?”

“That you have something going on with him.”

“Is that why you didn’t fight back?” Magnus hummed when Raphael nodded and eyed Alec again who had started fidgeting. “I appreciate it.” He walked off after that, having nothing else to say, and stopped before Alec. “I’m going to my loft. Are you coming?”

Alec’s head whipped up in surprise. “…yes.”

With a snap, a portal came to life beside them and Magnus had Alec go in before he did. He stepped into his living room and observed Alec’s tense back for a second then snapped his fingers for some drinks. “Alexander.”

Alec pivoted slowly and accepted the drink with a low, “thank you.”

“Hmm…” Magnus dipped his pinkie in his glitter-y martini and swirled it around as he sat down on his couch. “Sit, Alexander, and let’s talk.” He waited for Alec to do so before he continued, “Do you have anything to say?”

Alec laughed self-deprecatingly. “For once in my life, I acted impulsively and you had to be there to witness it. I’m sorry you had to see it. And I just want you to know that’s not how I usually handle things.”

“I’m not mad, Alexander,” Magnus sucked his glitter-y pinkie and tilted his head. “But I’d appreciate it if you don’t beat up the people close to me – or any Downworlder for that matter – especially when they’re not fighting back.”

“I swear it won’t happen again.” Alec’s eyes blazed determinedly.

Magnus smiled briefly. “Was that the first time Isabelle was involved in something… unsavoury?” He tasted the word as it left his tongue and sipped some of his drink to wash the taste away.

“No,” Alec denied. “But it’s the first time she was unable to defend herself from one. …I know it’s not Raphael’s fault nor was it Simon’s really but I… I was furious and, though it doesn’t excuse me, he was there and Camille wasn’t. I’ll apologise to him tomorrow when we’ve both cooled off enough.”

Magnus nodded and took another sip of his drink.

“Have I…” Alec’s grip on the glass tightened. “Ruined things?”

Magnus licked his lips and settled back on his couch to trace his eyes on the lip Alec was nibbling. He put his drink down on the coffee table and stood up to grab the other’s fidgeting hands. “Not yet but know that you are walking on a very, very fine line.”

“I know,” Alec replied softly and stepped closer.

“So long as you do.” Magnus’ lips quirked up on one side as he slid his hands up Alec’s arms over the slope of broad shoulders and stopped to curve around a warm runed neck. “Have a good night, Alexander.”

Alec nodded curtly, face crestfallen, and moved to step back but paused before completing it.

“Yes?” Magnus slid his fingers along the collar of Alec’s leather jacket.

“Can I kiss you?”

Magnus smiled slowly, endeared, and leaned in close to brush their lips together. His eyes slid closed whilst a pleasant tingle warmed him up as Alec pressed forward and explored his mouth with gentle thoroughness that he knew could only be borne out of feelings too kind for his heart to bear without crying.

He felt weaker and more vulnerable than ever, felt as if he was flying, a mixture of intense exhilaration and fear that melded into a beautiful and unforgettable moment. His gasp was soft when they parted and he allowed himself to be held securely in Alec’s strong embrace without complaint, eyes still closed as he basked in the affectionate action.

  The mid-day sun greeted an exhausted Magnus with its warmth. He was reclined on his couch beside Ragnor and Catarina, all three of them sported annoyed expressions and held scotch on the rocks in their hands. They had spent half of the day searching for Iris to no avail. She was a slippery wench, always gone by the time they track her somewhere with a present of demons left behind.

They had given up after the third time, magic depleted, and retreated to the comforts of his home so they could recover and think of a new plan. So far, he had one and it involved more drinking which was always a plus in his opinion – though apparently not to his friends. “I’m telling you, she won’t be able to resist coming.”

“You’ve had a lot of questionable ideas in your life, Magnus,” Catarina started. “But this is the dumbest.”

Magnus turned her drink into oil in retaliation and heard her turn it back a snap later. “She has been thirsting over the items she gave me as payment centuries ago, always sniffing out for opportunities to steal them back. If this plan doesn’t work, we’ll just have to continue our wild goose chase.”

“Well, it isn’t like any of us have a better idea,” Ragnor sighed resignedly.

“Brilliant.” Magnus perked up and snatched his phone from the side table only to see a message already waiting for him. It was Alec. He ignored the strange fluttering feeling inside his chest and opened up his inbox and his lips downturned into a frown. “Alright, you two decorate this place and I’ll go close a demon portal.”

Not a minute later, he stepped out of his portal and was greeted by a beautiful view of the beach marred only by the loud, screeching flying demon that Alec was trying to kill with a – he did a double take – bow and arrow; it was scary how accurate his dreams could be sometimes.

He spotted the demon portal a few feet away from him and then squinted at the flying demon at Alec’s commendable efforts to kill it. They were far enough from him to close the portal without worry in case the flying demon wasn’t killed so he hurried over, summoned his magic with graceful hand twists and waved his arms from his back towards the portal.

His magic rushed out, called upon by him and the familiarity of the energy seeping out of the portal, whilst red magic flowed out of the darkness to connect with his own. He gripped the wild energy with his ironclad control and used his boosted magic to close the portal with purposeful waves of his arms.

Behind him, he could hear Alec shout his name in warning and he could feel the flying demon swooping closer to stop him. He tried to ignore the impending danger, intent on the shutting the portal as it was already getting smaller but the more desperate Alec cries became, the more distracted he was. His attention snapped when he heard the flying demon screech too close to him and he looked behind him to blast it back where it came from.

Red sparks exploded down prettily but his focus was back on the portal. There were tell-tale screeches of dying demons from Alec’s direction as he fell down on the smooth beach; it was smooth, like there had been no hole to begin with.  He soon found himself cocooned in a warm embrace once more and he didn’t bother denying himself the comfort.

Moments passed, both peaceful and restless, and when Magnus gathered enough energy to move without help, he placed a hand on Alec’s and faced the other. “What is it?” He asked softly.

“I should have been able to handle the demon alone.” Alec sighed sadly with a frown. “I’m better than this.”

“You’ll have plenty of time to prove that statement to me.”

Alec gave a hopeful smile. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” Magnus assured and his eyes lit up as he remembered his plans for Iris. “Tonight, in fact. I’m hosting a party and you may invite some of your Shadowhunter friends.”

Alec looked taken-aback. “Why do you need Shadowhunter help for a party?”

“Apart from the fact that we should meet each other's’ respective friends,” Magnus raised a brow pointedly. “I have a rogue warlock to capture and this party will be just the thing to entice them to crawl out of their hole.”

“I’ll be there.” Alec confirmed then with a slight flush added, “We’ll all be there.”

“Don’t bring the entire Institute.” Magnus teased.

Alec smiled and kissed him. “I won’t.”

  Jazz music played soothingly from the record player and filled the loft with its classy tunes. Ragnor and Catarina were nursing their drinks and playing a game of chess like a boring old couple and Magnus was about to sleep from boredom. He nearly summoned up mini fireworks in joy when his wards alerted him to the incoming presence of his other guests.

His door swung open with a snap to reveal Alec with a raised fist to knock and the rest of the usual crew crowded behind. “Come in, come in.” He waved his hands to welcome them in and summoned for drinks to appear in their hands. They all yelped in varying volumes save for Alec and he smiled internally in amusement. “Make yourselves at home.”

“Will do.” Clary saluted and dragged Simon off.

Isabelle must have seen the questioning expression on Magnus’ face because she drew closer and whispered, “I had them kiss and make-up – just a saying, of course, since my brother will only kiss you.”

“Iz, what are you telling him?” Alec wrapped a hand around Magnus’ waist and squinted suspiciously.

Isabelle laughed and walked away with a cheeky wink.

“I was simply curious about Simon and you.” Magnus explained with a smile, endeared by how Alec’s eyes smouldered when they were narrowed. “Forget that though, you look gorgeous.” He smoothed a hand down the soft dark green sweater the other wore and tapped his finger approvingly on the leather belt holding up fitting slacks. “I do enjoy the sight of you in casual clothes and colour though black on black – especially leather – is appealing in its own right.”

“Thanks,” Alec choked out.

Magnus furrowed his brows slightly in concern. “Alexander, are you alright?”

“Yeah – yes, you just – uhm, wow.” Alec stuttered incoherently.

“Oh,” Magnus felt a light flush dust his cheeks as he finally noticed the way Alec was practically devouring him with bright, hot eyes. He had forgotten what it was like to be appreciated and not just respected for his position, influence and/or power. “Thank you, Alexander, that’s… sweet of you.”

“Yeah, uh…”

Magnus tried to suppress a grin. “Come,” He tugged them both round to where Ragnor and Catarina were having pleasant talks with the other Shadowhunters and Simon then dramatically presented Alec to his friends. “Alexander meet my friends, Ragnor and Catarina. Ragnor and Catarina, meet Alexander and… company who I’m sure have introduced themselves?”

“Of course,” Izzy lifted her head up and winked.

“I’ve finally found your substitute,” Ragnor tipped his drink towards Clary. “This lovely Shadowhunter has very good taste and knowledge in the arts.”

“I didn’t know you were looking for a substitute.” Magnus sniffed unhappily.

Ragnor’s eyes rolled. “I’ve been desperate for one. Ever since you became the leader of the New York Downworlders, all you talk about is your duties and responsibilities to them.”

“Well excuse me for being a dedicated leader.”

“His leadership is admirable,” Alec spoke up finally. “I wish to learn from him.”

Magnus kissed Alec on the cheek in thanks. “Hear that, Ragnor?”

“Yes,” Catarina interjected with a strange tone. “I hear that.”

At once they were all quiet, ears straining to hear what Catarina had been pertaining to.

Magnus could pinpoint when each of them heard it as they rushed to his bedroom in varying speeds. Alec was, of course, right beside him at a slighter faster speed, and he could see the hearing rune burning brightly on an uncovered arm. “Here,” He slammed his bedroom door open and stalked around with his cat eyes out in the open, sharp and menacing; his drawers had been looted through and he knew that his plan had been successful.

“THERE!” Clary shouted from behind.

Magnus whirled around and raised his hands in reflex for a blocking spell when he saw Iris throw out a desperate attack with her whole body. He gritted his teeth in annoyance upon seeing the Shadowhunters subdued and countered immediately with a fast attack. She hit the bookshelf in the living room and prepared another attack when white magic wrapped around her body as she struggled to get up from the floor.

A quick glance let him know that his friends weren’t inside his bedroom and he smiled proudly as he watched Catarina wield her magic with graceful flicks of the wrist. She was a force to be reckoned with, her ability to command her magic with utter precision made her a formidable enemy and he could see this realisation sink in with every desperate attack Iris tried to hurl whilst running away.

It was a futile attempt with Ragnor out there as well.

He left them to it and waved his arms around in elegant arcs to lift the spell from the Shadowhunters. They came to with shock and stopped abruptly in their steps upon seeing him in the spot Iris was before. “Who’s up for Hunter Moon’s Shadow World night?”

“Wait. How –,” Clary stared wide-eyed at a restrained Iris being manhandled into a portal by Ragnor.

Simon patted her. “Who cares?”                                                                                                                                           

“Exactly,” Isabelle agreed with a devious grin. “To Hunters Moon! But I’ll have you all drink a round of my special cocktail first!”

Clary and Simon both watched her leave the bedroom in horror.

“Don’t worry,” Alec spoke up and caught their attention with a smirk. “She’s not a disaster with drinks.”

“Oh thank g –,” Simon choked and Clary dragged him out with a roll of her eyes.

Alec levelled Magnus a look. “That was far too easy –,”

“The real battle was luring her here.” Magnus interrupted with a shrug.

“You didn’t need us at all.” Alec finished.

“Of course, I did.” Magnus grinned. “The night would be dreadful without your pretty face.”

  Hours later and their party was in full swing in the cosy back corner of Hunters Moon. Luke and Maia had joined in not long ago being friends with, surprisingly, all of them and they were all in varying states of inebriation. Their laughing faces were all flushed, hands cold with iced drinks, and body lax as they leaned over each other whilst chattering nonstop.

Magnus was squished into the loveseat next to the couches where everyone else were and had been swapping stories as well as fashion tips with Isabelle almost as soon as they arrived at the bar. It was also the perfect position with the best vantage point of Alec who had been sat on the couch arm talking to everyone with a cute, drunken grin.

That had been a while ago though and Alec had been missing since. He cast Isabelle an apologetic look when she leaned in close to poke him in the arm and extracted himself from the couch with a genuine smile. “I’m going to look for your brother,”

At once, Isabelle’s face morphed into a mischievous expression. “Have fun!”

Magnus shook his head and chuckled under his breath. His finger twitched as he unleashed his magic and he let it ripple around the vicinity until he felt it touch Alec’s energy by the alleyway outside. Odd. He edged behind the couches and opened the backdoor to see Alec pacing, shoulders tense. “Alexander?”

Alec stopped and took a visible breath.

“Okay…” Magnus muttered to himself and smoothed his fingers over his chin. He walked out into the alleyway more fully as Alec shifted to look at him and let the door slide away from his grasp. It closed with a soft click and the music became muted, leaving them in a type of silence. He looked at their surroundings and then smiled at Alec. “Everything okay?”

Alec’s eyes were soft in the dim lights and his white teeth glinted from behind parted lips. “Yeah… just thinking.”

Magnus moved forward until just one step separated them and crossed his arms as he tipped his chin up a little to let the lights glance off his eyes better. “About?”

“How I haven’t been able to impress you yet.” Alec said honestly with a small smile that hinted at slight self-deprecation. “I would like to.” He tilted his head briefly and his smile widened. “One day soon.”

“I’ll look forward to it.” Magnus assured sincerely.

Alec’s smile turned pure, happy. “I’m counting on that.”

“Good,” Magnus leaned in and grinned into their kiss. It was sweet and chaste but it was significant to him because it was a seal to a silent promise to himself that he was going to truly try his hand at love once more and it would all start with – They parted and he smiled without restraint at Alec for once in the numerous times they had interacted during the past week. “Alexander?”

“Yeah?” Alec whispered back, looking positively giddy having no doubt noticed the change between them.

Magnus thought the other looked more beautiful than ever now, like a blooming flower given water to prosper. He laid his hand on Alec’s cheek and let their foreheads touch, their eyes warm as they looked into the windows of each other’s being. “Why don’t we start with that date you wanted?"

[acidmatze]

Ages ago i made a post about northern german gothic but I found a new brand of insanity that seems unique to this region. Not the entire northwest nah. Just this region where I live and I dont know how far this spans and Im also not really keen on finding out tbh.. Anyway, heres wonderwall

So we got what i call a mix between farmers and pirates and people also talk like a mixture of farmers and pirates.

Draw an X on a corn fields and kids will start digging while ol man Petersen will come a-running and yell and swing his rifle at them (No shooting since old man Petersen probably doesnt have a license. I dont even know where he got that rifle from)

Imagine pirates using tractors and horses instead of ships

Pirate crews fighting on tractors and when I say Crew i mean Family.

People carrying chickens like parrots.

For some reason everyone over the age of 50 is obsessed with bluegrass and country. You had no interest in this age 49. You turn 50 and wake up with a banjo in your bed. The sound of my childhood were aggressive banjo and fiddle noises feat. the sound of my drunk neighbours fighting. All summer long If theres a party somewhere there will be banjo. No matter what party. Kids birthdays were the sole exception to this. Spare the kids. And its STILL like this. If theres a gathering of any sorts in town theres country and bluegrass and fiddling EVERYWHERE. Where are they all coming from?

I think at least once a week my neighbours are attempting a bbq but it smells like they are accidentally burning their house down. Knowing my neighbours they might intentionally burn the house down... A neighbour set his hedge on fire once. Accidentally.

There are kids who just got a moped and they will drive around the block with it. For hours. Just up and down the hill like HEY I HAVE A MOPED!!!!!

For some reason every summer there are random people in the forest and they just scream at each other all night. Drunk. Random moped sounds. HEY I HAVE A MOPED!!!!!!! at night. No one speaks standard german. We think we do but we dont. Maybe its just the entire rest of the country thats talking weird.

We had a neighbour who did the HEY I HAVE A MOPED!!!!! thing. With a truck. Several times a day. Every day. For weeks.

For some reason no matter where you go you always go uphill. I dont remember going downhill, its just always up.

Random gunshots in the forest at night and I dont think it was the hunter. 

I moved into the “town” and that has reduced the country music im exposed to by 60% and i think im getting old because Im starting to miss it.

Seriously, we visited a classmate once and everything was normal until we reached a little wooden hut in the garden where his dad spend most of the day and he thought he was a cowboy. We thought it was cool. It was not.

Theres a 50% chance that your parents will look at the surnames of your classmates and repeat their surnames with clenched teeth and you know that Something happened a long time ago but neither family is over it yet. They know people you have never seen in your entire life but if my mom sees them in the store shes just ready to throw hands. Dont ask me why I have no idea. Mostly she just drags me into another direction and mutters angrily under her breath