#this drawing made me change my rating of pink from a -1 to a 3

[starryarchitect]

[sunsents]

Empty - F.W (1/2)

Gah daym this was a JOURNEY to write. I swore to myself to never write angst because, well I suck at it. But here we are, I swear this has a good ending because my heart can't bear that. I could've written this much better, so I promise to bring my A GAME for chapter 2. Enjoy, also Lee in this is a hate crime. This is very story telling-esk so I hope it flows well.

I wouldn't have written this chapter without the help of my good friend @mochiixjimin she helped me edit and spice up this whole thing so thank you so much to her! She's an amazing writer, go check out her work and show her some big love right now or else!! her wattpad

Chapter 1 out of 2 (Backstory)

Summary —> Life has always been a cruel joke to you, yet you simply play along. Overshadowed by Eva Burke your whole life, watching from the sidelines while everyone flooded each other with love, it would always feel like a joke.

Pairing: fredweasley x fem!reader

Word count: 6.1k

Warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST (with a fluffy ending in the second part) / One mature scene (18+) and then it's angst again <3 / Some slander / Offensive language

Rating: 18+

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

You were a bright child.

Beaming bright enough to keep a tight lipped smile during flu-shots, and enough to put on a happy façade when your dad threw away the drawing you had done of your family dog, rather than hang it up on the fridge.

Children have foolish dreams, and that was yours. Your friends in preschool boasted about their pictures being hung like trophies on fridges, with decorative magnets and even bigger pink bow ties.

The fridge in the Y/L/N manor was empty. Always empty, just how Ms. Y/L/N liked it. Empty marble floors with empty rug designs, and empty rooms with even emptier people living in it. They were both empty people. Hollow and void of any emotion, at least towards you.

You were different though. You were filled to the brim with ambition and hope and so many positive emotions that your parents never seemed to reflect on you. You were like those Disney princesses. The princesses always had hope, and when you have hope good things happen.

Right?

Your dad never meant to give you false hope. He just wished you’d keep your mouth shut as he worked until late hours. Using big words and having big aspirations, you shouldn’t have.

Mr and Mrs Y/L/N weren't bad people per say, just busy. They didn't know how to raise a child, this was obvious, because the purpose of even having a child was to fix their marriage. But a temporary fix wouldn't do it, it never did. There was always that hole on the roof, leaking rain of despair into their falsely built home that no bucket big enough could hold back. Because it always found a way to overflow.

They didn't know how to show their love, so they did it with money, clothes, toys and crayons that you would later use to draw pictures of your family, only to have them end up in the dumpster once again.

They spoiled you rotten, bought you gifts you never even dreamed of asking. You just shut up and enjoyed it, what else could you do? Whine and demand attention? Risk losing their favor? There was no favor to lose.

You got yourself a fat A plus on your third grade math test. Star stickers on your chest, you entered through the glass double doors of your house with a crooked smile - two front teeth missing of course - making your joy all the more endearing. Your backpack strapped tightly over your narrow shoulders, hanging low with all the crammed books you pushed before leaving school because you were just so excited to show your parents.

You received a big sloppy kiss from your Nanny, who practically was like a second mom to you, and dashed right into your fathers office to show him your new accomplishment.

"Good job, I'm proud of you."

You froze. You found a way to actually get their attention. The attention you so craved, the recognition you would die for. This was revolutionary. Basically a new era for you.

Nanny made you a star shaped cake that night, and sat with you while gently stroking your hair and listening to you blabber about how easy the math questions were. It felt warm, motherly love. Even if it was false, it would never compare to the love of your own mother, a love you would never get.

You spent all your night studying, your eyes burning under the harsh light of your lamp in the early mornings and your pencil, ebbing away over sheets and sheets of blank paper. Writing away your little hands off until they ached, just to snatch another A and get a good job.

This was good, it worked out very well. You became that student who looked forward to class, just to get a good grade and have the validation of your parents. The sight of your father’s lips quirk up even in the slightest, and how your mother’s eyes shone briefly in appreciation of your hard work, even if it was for a quick second, it was worth it.

Until the new neighbors moved in.

Mr. Burke was a round, cheerful man with an even rounder belly, and a big fat pipe that always hung on his lips. Mrs Burke looked and acted like those fairy godmothers you adored. You couldn’t believe such people existed. Mr Y/L/N invited them over for dinner, for courtesy. He was not happy about said courtesy.

He ended up liking the couple, they had a little daughter called Eva, who was small and adorable with round red cheeks and big doe eyes. Not only Mr and Mrs Burke, but the Y/L/N’s adored Eva as well. She was happy, always smiling, and her teeth weren't nearly as crooked as yours, not to mention she had pretty long hair like a princess.

You liked her a lot, took her to pick flowers, showed her the drawings you had prepared for the empty fridge; in case Mr Y/L/N ever had a change of heart and hung them up, you had been trying for three years and weren't giving up any sooner.

Eva was nice, kind enough to share her M&M's and very used to compliments unlike you. She seemed to get a lot from her parents and yours. The adults were so kind to her, always smothering her with love and kisses. You were happy for Eva, happy that Eva somehow managed to gain the favor of your parents before you did.

Little girls tended to be jealous, you weren’t. You were just glad to have a friend so cool, she didn't blush and stutter under praise and apparently her drawings were pretty enough to go on a fridge.

It was a Thursday afternoon when your mom smiled at you for the first time since your last exam grade. "Look, Eva drew us a picture, isn't it pretty?"

The crayola stash under your bed was no longer needed, they appeared clumsily dumped in the neighborhood trash the next day, most of them stomped under the pressure of your little sneakers. And the bundle of drawings you hid under your pillow, wishing on fairy godmother that one day they would be hung up too, were ripped; clearly a struggle given. You had paper cuts on your hands, and your Nanny thankfully applied ointment before Ms and Mr Y/L/N noticed, or rather, stopped to care.

Though you knew that even if you paraded herself with bloody fingers dripping to your elbows, they wouldn't care.

Nanny did, she was there. There when you were haunted with nightmares when the moon was particularly dark, cooing at you and letting you sleep next to her in that small bed of hers. There when you tripped and fell, small scratch resulting in a screaming tantrum. She was gentle, sweet, paid well.

You decided to go and pick flowers with Eva, and make a pretty flower crown for yourself, months after your drawing incident. Of course, you didn't have such silly dreams anymore. You didn’t wish to have your pictures hung, to have your mother wear the flower crowns you made and frankly you didn’t care for the sight of the sparkle in your parents eyes. Nanny’s was enough.

Eva agreed, dressed in a pink tutu Mrs Y/L/N gifted. You didn't comment, though deep down you gazed at the skirt in sparkling envy. Your mother never bothered to get you such pretty things. The two of you gathered saturated petals and nice ribbons while giggling amongst yourselves. Until, you accidentally caused Eva’s flowers to levitate.

Eva ran home, crying and calling you a witch. Mr and Mrs Y/L/N’s dirty looks made her feel shameful, and even dirtier when a letter addressed to her was dropped by a pretty owl you insisted on petting. It was from a school called Hogwarts, in the faraway land of London, and it seemed, not only you but Eva got the same letter the next day.

Though the Y/L/N’s and Burke’s were proud of Eva’s letter. They weren’t with yours.

— — — —

The ride to Hogwarts was interesting to say the least. You had so many questions unanswered, were you a fairy godmother too? Was that your destiny? Was that the reason you never got any attention, because you were destined to give instead of receive?

Eva was cheerful as always, making fast friends in newly bought uniforms and holding a pretty, long and thin wand, with designs flowing across the premise. Your wand was...functional. You were sad you couldn't choose, and that the wand chose the owner. It didn't make sense, what if you didn't want this wand? What if you wanted something charming like Eva’s? It should have been mutual.

It was while trying to find your way to the bathroom that you met the Weasley twins. Quite handsome, a year older and absolute fucktards. A word you learned from the two. Though you always found yourself laughing more at Fred’s jokes, you liked them both equally.

“Hey George! Look.” Fred had exclaimed, clinging onto his brothers shoulder and dragging him across. “Who's that girl?”

You introduced yourself, happy façade on, gentle words slipping out of your mouth like nectar. They had to like you, you told yourself. Just this once, more than Eva.

When sorted into Gryffindor, Eva, you and the twins became inseparable. Your group grew in second year, when Katie, Lee and Alicia Spinnet joined the bunch. You would make fun of the ghastly Potions Professor Snape, and imitate Dumbledore in the hallways to mess with the older students.

You loved your time at Hogwarts, and the adventures that came every year. Especially when Harry Potter joined.

“Hey Fred.”

Fred, who was fiddling with his bracelet you had bought him hummed in response, not bothering to look up.

You sighed, “Do you think the flowers can feel it when we pluck them?”

Fred turned at that, his bracelet was now tightly secure after his struggles. “I hope not.” he smiled, a faraway look on his face whenever he gazed at you. “You know, some people like pain.” he winked.

You merely looked at him confused, clearly way too young for...whatever that is.

He started laughing loudly, slapping his knee and causing you to scoff and slap him on the shoulder.

Third year was when it bloomed. The slight girly attention you gave Fred grew. Fred was...Fred. A handsome ginger, beater for their house's Quidditch team, always charming and charismatic that somehow oozed out of him whenever he did anything really. It was not unusual, every girl in school had a crush on him. That wasn't the case, Fred was one of your best friends, and you refused to entertain the idea of a possible...relationship.

Yet sometimes, you'd find yourself thinking about hugging and kissing Fred like you’d seen couples in your favorite movies did and you’d fall asleep with reddened cheeks and a boy with even redder hair in your mind.

But feelings couldn’t be controlled, nor easily hidden. Eva found out in your fourth year after hearing you mumble his name in your dreams. Fred Weasley was getting more handsome as years passed, and you found it hard to contain your feelings. You were crushing, hard.

Eva was...Eva about it. Happy, but nothing changed. She didn't tease like George did when he found out, nor did she act any differently towards Fred.

“Hey ____!” Fred had sat next to you, shaking the entire couch because he grew that tall during summer. “Got a new girl after me.” he looked at you, almost expectantly, as if you wouldn’t react the way you always reacted.

“That’s great Fred.” you smiled, gulping whatever lump that was forming in your throat and struggling to come out as vulgar words you wished to yell.

“Yeah,” Fred sighed, “It’s...great.”

Fred Weasley was a ladies man, and he wasn't afraid to show it. It was okay, because you were happy enough to be one of his closest, and that was enough. He often boasted about getting girls, and how successful his jokes were, and you always loved snapping back to him cockily, even more cockily than him. Playful banter was easy, comforting between them and when he turned away you would love to shyly entertain the idea of being one of those girl’s Fred talked about.

Fifth year, you had a sudden growth spurt. That was also the year where you discovered Cosmopolitan, Vogue and of course Witch Weekly. Hair no longer in a ponytail, legs shaved and smooth, short skirts with no nylons, you were a new person. After getting your period in third year, your spurt came late, but sudden. Way too sudden in the time of three months. It was hard to handle the changes occurring to your body. It was all too much that you had to become a lady and the fact that you didn’t have your mother to help was a pain you hid deep within.

It was as if whichever god above decided to squeeze your entire life into a summer and call it a day, because it was simply too busy. How ironic. No one saw your growth except old Nanny Gladys. Not Eva, nor her parents considering they went on a getaway and the Burke's, who had gone to Brazil.

But you were over that, you discovered the great telephone, and the great Hermione Granger, package deal with Ginny Weasley. You guys would talk on the phone for hours upon hours, Ginny obscuring your personality and Hermione altering your view on your parents. And Hermione was right, they were assholes. You didn't give a flying fuck about empty praises anymore.

You had become almost too tall for your older clothes, and your breasts were way too big to fit in the training bra you bought not even a month ago. Your hips, now wide and swaying as you walk became graceful, were decorated with long gem bracelets.

You cursed like a sailor that summer, ran around fields with family - your family being your dog, Jambo - bare feet. You stomped on flowers you used to pick as a little girl, stomping on those silly fairytale dreams you used to nurse, and never felt freer. For the first time ever you felt that maybe being empty could be more freeing than having false hope weighing you down.

Returning to Hogwarts was a big deal to students. Who changed, who glowed up after what happened last year - nothing, it was all childish drama.

Before your parents could even see your new self, your escapade to the Granger household was successful. The Y/L/N's didn't care, nor did they write. You knew it should’ve hurt, but frankly, you didn’t think having the pain in your chest was worth it. Hermione was awestruck, of course, after laying her sights on you for the first time since May and insisted on walking into the Entrance Hall, arm in arm with her and Ginny to show you off like some sort of revelation.

It was a revelation all right, at least to the boys, and some girls. It seemed no one saw you as a girl before. George oogled, and Lee was so shocked to find out that you were actually a girl with a pretty figure and an even prettier smile that he stopped clapping you on the back like he always did. Not a girl, you have become a woman. It was far too sudden, new uniforms and a whole new wardrobe had to be bought.

"____? You were a girl?" Fred joked, ruffling your hair like nothing changed between you. And that's when you realized, no slutty skirt, how much pushup your bra, or no matter how pretty your hair looked, Fred would always see you as ____, the girl with crooked front teeth and who once ate a worm in second year. Your teeth weren't crooked at all anymore - thanks to a few years of braces - and finally clear of uncomfortable metals but you felt as if Fred would always see the ghost of them on your pearly whites when you smiled.

He had this view of you that blinded him, caused him to treat you as he treated Ginny while he flirted and played footsie with other girls, including Eva.

That did not stop Eva from giving you false hope, and you took the bait, naive like always. Hope, that's what ruined it all. "You're beautiful now, of course you have a chance!" she said, rubbing your shoulder reassuringly, as if she had warmth to begin with.

It was all false, yet you still believed. You always had. Like a fool.

Ginny didn't like Eva, and maybe that's why you gravitated towards her. She was the first person who had ever met Eva that wasn't charmed by her kind smile and attractive words. Eva was...displeased. She grew up having the attention of everyone around, so when Ginny Weasley told her straight to her face that she wasn't shit, Eva seethed. The attention of Ginny changed nothing though, because Eva was the main character. Everyone - except Ginny, and secretly Hermione (though she would never say it) - loved her, they followed her around like puppies and praised her on her wonky wand work.

The upcoming Yule Ball brought great upswing to Hogwarts.

You were far too busy with her classes to take interest in the tournament - even though the dragon race was the gnarliest sight you had ever seen. Your goal was set, become a badass Auror and move out as soon as possible, so you didn't have to face your parents (except Holidays, yuck.)

But the Yule Ball was your chance. A chance with Fred Weasley.

You could ask to go as friends and maybe, just maybe a little hope and the night would end much more romantic than you had anticipated.

Plucking up courage was the hardest part, you practiced with your bathroom mirror so long that Ginny had to blast through the door and drag you out of her dormitory.

Fred Weasley agreed, why wouldn't he? You, his closest friend, asking to go as a group and drink all night while gossiping? It was a win win. At least that's what you told herself.

That was a lie, it wasn't a win win.

You gave it your all getting ready, dress silk, makeup and expensive shoes. You took a long shower, scrubbing and shaving yourself to a smooth gliding porcelain, only for it all to be washed down with reddened eyes and a boy with even redder hair.

Fred greeted you the same, danced the same, and you chatted the same; you were reminded again, for the second time, that you stood no chance.

Fred told you that he was going to get drinks, a quick trip to the booth and mumbled I'll be back in a second. He was not back in a second. Several minutes passed, and your worries caused your feet to follow after Fred's footsteps.

You ran, trying to find him in the empty corridors of Hogwarts, tears welling in your eyes because he wouldn't. He wasn't that cruel, life wasn't that cruel.

But it was, and in a distant empty classroom you saw Fred Weasley, on his knees and between Eva's legs, groaning and praising her like a starved man. Worshipping her like everyone else had, burying himself in her and completely forgetting the drink he’d bring back in just a second. He’d left you thirsty and alone in the Great Hall and left you to drink from a cup he hadn’t known to be forbidden. Yet Eva did.

Eva's perfect dainty hands tangled in his ginger hair, thighs clamping shut while her high pitched moans flooded your mind and echoed around your head. They were so loud that she couldn’t even hear the loud echoes of your footsteps and the woeful cries that left your lips as you ran. It wouldn’t be the first time she had ignored your pain for her own selfish reasons.

Your heart shattered, and suddenly you were six again, watching your parents praise Eva, hang her drawing on the fridge. A soft breeze tickling your bare toes, dangling from the small cushioned seat you sat on while you watched Eva braid Mrs Y/L/N’s hair. Emotionless, silent, not asking for anything, knowing that you won't receive in return. Eva's small hands carefully placed the flower crown on Mrs Y/L/N’s pool of hair, and she smiled, heart warming and hopeful. Suddenly you remembered the feel of your own hands tangling in between your locks as you stood on your tiptoes, trying to imitate your mothers braid on yourself in the mirror you couldn't reach. You pretended, only for a moment before it twisted into knots.

What a cruel joke, you thought as you watched Eva receive the world from Fred, from your parents, from your friends and from every damn person you had met.

You cried on a big set of stairs that night, your wails echoing as you asked whoever, whatever what you had done. What you had done to deserve such treatment from the people around you. It was rather cliche - and maybe a bit too dramatic. It was an uncomfortable seat of course, and your body, as well as your heart, ached. Pain, misery, false hope and enough hair spray to melt the ozone.

The princesses always cried on big sets of stairs, uncomfortable stone floors causing them to shiver while they hid away their beautifully animated faces in their perfect hands. This was different, there was no fairy godmother to fix your makeup and clone a gentlemanly Fred Weasley, a perfect prince. You knew, because you cried, and prayed and cried and prayed until your throat was sore. There was no fairy godmother, it was all a lie. There was no happy ending. There would be none.

No one came to find you that night either, and you had to drag yourself back to the Gryffindor common room, feet bare, mascara, blush - anything else you put on in hopes of being able to become like Eva even only for one night - practically nonexistent from the way your tears washed them away.

You didn't sleep that night, and your head was unusually clear, pounding, but clear. You laid awake, eyes blood-shot and stinging while your dress shuffled uncomfortably between your sheets. You were too tired to change, and your dress was far too pretty to be worn so short.

Ginny's words replayed over and over again. "They're not worth it." her voice was so clear, and true. Mr and Mrs Burke weren't worth it. Your parents weren't worth it. Fred Weasley wasn't worth it. Eva wasn't worth it. The midnight chirping of bugs invited themselves in from your open window, and blue moonlight streaks beaming down in lines from the tulle curtain flowed with breeze, it was calming.

You felt calm, for the first time in sixteen years. You felt calm.

Fred and Eva started dating that week. Everyone acted like they expected it, and you realized just how blind you had been. Eva Burke and Fred Weasley, golden couple of Hogwarts.

You watched them, emotionless, as they embraced with love and so much passion that you felt embarrassed. Embarrassed at how you’d blushed and squeal over Fred in front of Eva and George and anyone who had found out because now you knew. Now you knew that their amused smiles were probably pitying grimaces because they knew that you two were never meant to be. It was always Fred and Eva.

Fred was an amazing boyfriend, making sure Eva was taken care of, lovingly staring at her whenever and wherever, arm looped around her waist at all times; you realized they were truly not worth it.

"You disgust me."

You didn't mean the words to escape so carelessly, but when you said them, you realized you didn't want to take them back. The growing pit in your stomach felt weightless. "Excuse me?" said Fred, stopping his nibbling on Eva's neck, who was just as shocked. You scoffed, Eva already had enough purple bruises to parade around so why did Fred have the need to add more?

"You heard me right," George, Lee, Ron, Harry, Katie and whoever sitting in their circle stared at you, wide-eyed, Ginny and Hermione, however, were grinning devilishly. Kind ____, wouldn't hurt a fly, quiet at times and didn't know how to stand up for herself. It was shocking, but you were done pretending. You didn't want to be like that anymore, you wanted to say whatever came to mind and not worry about the consequences. "You guys disgust me, I know I should be supportive but you don't match, at all."

You turned to George. "And you, no you can't talk about Katie like that." George went pink. "You're disgusting for sleeping around carelessly and telling girls you'd write, stop giving people false hope. Grow up. You’re nearly an adult and you can’t even treat a girl right."

"And you Lee," Lee went quiet. "What gives you the right to make fun of me like that. I'll wear whatever the fuck I want, just because you don't have the courage to wear a headband. If you can talk about my breasts, I'll talk about your shrimp."

"Ron, you take advantage of Hermione then lead her on. Open your eyes, asshole."

"Harry, you're not the main character. You're not always going to be the center of attention, nor do you have the right to yell at your friends."

"Alicia, god you're so stupid. I'm sorry, you're great but such an airhead. No, you can't ride a Thestral if you can't see them, and stop eating quill ink they're bad for you."

You stood up, grinning proudly, heart loud in your chest you feared someone might hear. "Frankly, I don't wanna be friends anymore. I'm done with this façade, except you two, 'Gin, Hermione. The rest of you are just so fake." she gestured to them. "Boys," she nodded again. "Don't talk to me anymore, and Lee, give me back the money, think it's about time don't you think? I've been paying for you since third year."

And with that, you left. You left Three Broomsticks, grin wide and chest heaving. Hermione and Ginny ran behind, whooping and cheering you on as they laughed.

The news of your outburst spread fast like wildfire caught in wind. That week was bliss, you no longer had to watch Fred and Eva, nor did you have to act sweet to anyone. You didn't have to laugh along Lee's sexist jokes and look away to wince, it was pure bliss. You realized that the feeling of being free didn’t have to be momentary.

Pansy Parkinson was surprisingly a good friend, she didn't have the same fakeness to her, the one Eva had where her smile was too kind. She spoke her mind, though every Slytherin did, and you liked that. Ginny wasn't happy with your new found friends, but she couldn't separate you. You made your own decisions from now on. It was refreshing.

You told your new friends everything, eager to get it off your chest and breathe, and they listened. For the first time, someone listened. You didn't have to get good grades, nor did you have to act like a sweet angel.

You teared up the first time Pansy said; "It's not your fault,". You knew it wasn't your fault, but hearing someone else say it with such genuine eyes made you believe. Actually believe.

It started off with you watching from the sidelines as Draco and Blaise pranked, insulted and shamed whatever your old friend group did. It wasn't unusual for Draco to act this way, but he got especially irritated after hearing what you told them. Blaise, someone usually quiet, had stepped up and decided to somehow release the pent up anger he had for the Gryffindor students.

The year ended, and you had started to sneak in an insult or two towards Fred and Eva. It felt nice, like finally, step by step you were clearing your years of hidden jealousy. But, there was no one to tell you that this simply wasn't the right way.

That summer, you stayed at the Burrow. Ginny had invited you and you were quick to say yes; obviously a fact forgotten. Fred, George and whoever you had insulted last year stayed in the same house. You simply didn't want to go home, and if this meant seeing Fred Weasley then you had to endure it.

Molly Weasley was the sweetest person you could ever meet, and it was genuine. It felt genuine, you feared your teeth might rot if the woman got another word in. Molly greeted you as if you were her own daughter she hadn't seen in years. You felt valued, seen.

Until Eva was there, Fred invited her. You had to watch the only person you were able to love, introduce the only person he was able to love to his mother. It wasn't you. It would never be you.

And you realized, even after everything, Eva had once again found a way to be more loved than you.

The grin Molly broke out was nothing short of beautiful, and you couldn't help but smile as well. The smile wasn't directed towards you of course, and you sat on that small kitchen chair, celebrating a relationship that caused your ruin.

Eva didn't care that your friendship was over, nothing budged in her life. She still got the same attention, still received the same love from Fred. The same affection, the same attention and the same everything. Or so it seemed.

Though unlike Eva, Fred merely watched you with sad eyes.

You stayed clear of the couple and the rest. You hung out with Ginny and Hermione only, ignoring the dirty looks Ron and Harry gave you. The secret, whispered insults Eva threw your way. George didn't say anything, but he didn't object either. This was enough to show how he felt. At this point you really didn't care. Why would you, when they didn’t either?

You held your head high just like Ginny and Hermione told you to, and you spoke in a loud and clear tone whenever asked something. Eva didn't, she stuttered when you spoke to her directly. Her words scrambled against each other when she tried to voice her insults in louder statements than a whisper. For the first time, you felt relief. You felt intimidating, protected by the barriers you had built around yourself.

Longest day of summer hit, and it boiled. Tanning became a distant dream, you would bake in this weather, and you were thankful to the big AC box you had brought from home. You couldn't sleep that night, sweat beads falling down your forehead that was already covered in a thin sheen. You had decided to get a cold glass of water, not sure how you ended up face to face with Fred Weasley. His wand tip shone with blue light, and his freckles were much darker because of the sun. It seemed the sun decided to be cruel to Fred Weasley back and wash Fred over with it's deathly heat. He was sunburnt, this was an understatement. He was burnt.

You couldn't help but start laughing when you met, ignoring the proximity, ignoring the sleeping house, dead silent and a big leap from the lively Burrow, ignoring Fred's soft breaths he let out every other second. You couldn't live off on false hope anymore.

Suddenly it wasn't so funny anymore, and your face quickly fell. You took a big step back and inhaled, ready to ignore him like you had been doing for the past year. But Fred Weasley was a persistent man, and he gripped your arm and looked at you with determined, doe-like eyes. "Tell me what I did wrong." he said, adamant on fixing this, whatever this was. You both didn't know.

You stood silent.

"Please flower,"

"Don't call me that." you said, stern and gaze sharp. Fred didn't react, he kept on insisting.

"Please, tell me how to fix this. I can fix it," he pleaded, a plethora of empty promises fell out of his lips like nothing. He lied like it was nothing, he was oblivious to everything he and everyone around them had put you through. It was infuriating.

You didn't say anything. You knew he would not fix anything but maybe staying silent would give him the false hope that spinned mockingly in your head for the past eighteen years.

"I'm sorry, just please. I can fix this, I promise, don't be like that." empty tears fell down from his eyes. He looked empty, tired. They lacked the charm they usually shined with and you wondered if it was only you that caused such dullness. Eye bags prominent that you never noticed before. It all felt like a lie, a cruel joke.

Fred Weasley was simply a cruel joke. His presence could only be compared to a shot of whiskey, especially when you down it like how Hagrid nurses a Firewhiskey filled pint glass. You never know how it will hit you. But in the end, you'd always find yourself curled next to the toilet, crying your eyes out because your headache was simply too much.

He was sobbing now, hanging onto your waist like you would simply vanish and you let him. The grip he had on was like steel vice - almost concerning - but you didn't touch him, didn't say anything. You just let him be, like he did to you. Allowed him to hopelessly hang off you before you would eventually leave him alone, like he did to you. "Where did I go wrong? How could we end up like this? What went wrong?"

‘You’, but your voice couldn’t be found.

Questions were useless when the answer was already right in front of his eyes. You didn’t let a single tear fall, you wouldn't forgive yourself if you cried in front of him.

You blinked, and that night was over. Summer continued on like nothing happened, like it didn't leave you heart broken and in such shame yet again. You continued on ignoring Fred as he looked at you with sorrowful eyes. Looked at you more, with more than he did his own girlfriend.

You blinked and the school year started again with another terror looming around the corner. There was simply no need to keep up anymore, because school was easy. You attended classes, got good grades, a few scar here and there from Umbridge's torture chamber, a woman who stood at a whopping five foot three yet still teriffied an entire school.

You blinked and you had already become a proud member of Draco's insult the Gryffindor's club. You didn't even feel bad, being horrible to the people you hated for years felt like a breath of fresh air. You didn't go as far as physically hurting any of your old friends, but coming up with damaging insults was such fun. A lot more fun than sitting around with a fake smile.

You blinked, and you were already moving out from your childhood house. Mr and Mrs Y/L/N were unusually happy, this was a given. They would have a new empty room and make another office, like they didn't have enough already. You feared they would start getting rid of bathrooms once too into their work, and they would have to do their business in bushes or buckets. Scratch that, you didn't fear that, it would be fucking hilarious.

You blinked, and when had time passed too quickly? Where did all those empty childhood years had gone? You were already graduating, on your way to become an Auror. You had lost contact with all your old friends now, regretfully Ginny and Hermione too.

The war had hit too quickly, luckily you survived, so did your friends. Unluckily, it left you with a nasty scar right across your left brow. It looked sick, but the hit wasn't worth it. It hurt like a bitch. You could see, it was a close call but vision wasn't an issue. The trauma though, god did Bellatrix's breath smell bad.

When it was all over, you had seen Fred hugging his family tightly. It seemed the Weasley's all survived, and you gave them each tight lipped smiles while holding a bunched up rag to your head to stop the blood gushing out. This wasn't the reunion you wanted to have with Ginny, but hey, you take what you can get after a revolutionary Wizarding war you barely made out alive.

Before a franticly running Fred could reach you though, you apparated to your flat in Diagon Alley, ignoring the thrumming of your heart, and how you practiced in front of a mirror to congratulate their successful joke shop that morning.

[gojology]

Lovebirds.

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 |  omg this is my first request. ilysm anon, im now feelin super cool. also, i just realized i put recc (as in recommended) instead of requests. i’m super stupid LOL. anyways, im touch starved too dw bby, i’m servin u up a long one since i rlly like this request and after all u r my first! 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 | Gojo x Wife! Reader 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 | 2307 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 | None! 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 | Coming home from a long mission in America, precisely 1 year, you’re excited to catch up on Gojo’s students, Nanami, and just Gojo in general.   Leaning out of the car window, resting your arm against your purse, you sighed. A humid wind brushed against your skin, tickling you. It had been quite a while since you had been in Japan, spending almost a year on a huge mission in America. You had killed a battalion worthy amount of special grades.   You spent most of your time in America in mostly horribly rundown places, equally as infested with curses. Although you found yourself enjoying America’s natural beauty, further away from the city life that many of the Americans found themselves enjoying, you much preferred Japan. after all, it was your home, and where you met Gojo Satoru. It would be another day until you could return, and you had gone through hundreds of scenarios of finally being in his arms again, but nonetheless, you were ecstatic at the thought of your husband’s touch.   Your phone’s notification chimed loudly, you threw your phone onto the other seat, heart jumping up to a high rate. It was a recording of Satoru loudly yelling, “OPEN YOUR FUCKING PHONE!” with a flurry of giggles afterwards.    Ijichi jumped, turning left and right. Whispering under his breath, he let out an exasperated sigh, switching the music channel.    The recording was mostly because of the time you had to ghost him due to work. Gojo had snuck on and recorded it, doing some magical tech stuff and giving you the custom notification sound. You had kept it that way ever since, since secretly, you enjoyed that you were so badly wanted by Gojo, that, and you had no idea how to change it back.    But the custom notification was sweet as well.   You smiled to yourself every time you heard it, a familiar twinge of pain flashing inside of you whenever you realized you wouldn’t be able to see him for a while.   Well, today, and the days after that would be different. You’d be able to finally see Gojo again, and his new students that he always frantically texted you about. Nanami, an old friend of Gojo, and also an old friend of yours, would also be there to welcome you back, you found yourself reminiscing about them.   You had heard so much about them, one of the kids being Sukuna’s vessel, you wondered how Gojo could contain such a fear, being around the kid at all times, he always told you about how the kid was actually energetic and happy and an overall great kid, you had heard about Nanami, finally coming back into the jujutsu sorcerer field of work, even though you always found that he still had a thing for finances.   You shook your head, “Save that shit for later, (Y/N).” muttering to yourself, you didn’t want to think of anything but Gojo, after all, it had been one fucking year of being deprived of the man you loved most. You were practically starving for the guy, in more ways than one.   Ijichi gulped, facing towards you, one hand on his steering wheel, “Forgive me Mrs. Satoru, but um.. Forgive me if I misheard, but I think I heard your phones notification go off.. Due to the ah- incredibly loud profanity.”   Now just realizing that you had completely forgotten about the phone notification, you nodded your thanks to Ijichi, a warmth rushing to your cheeks before opening up your phone.    In the small, rounded box containing Gojo’s message, he wrote in all caps, “SUGAR, MY BELOVED, MY QUEEN, HOW CLOSE ARE YOU? I CAN’T FUCKING WAIT I’M LITERALLY BOUNCING UP AND DOWN IN OUR BED.”   Smiling to yourself, you furiously texted back, “Calm down honeybun, I’ll be there in like, 24 hours, I’m not even fucking close.”   You almost instantly got a DM back, making you jump a bit in your seat. Even with the 5 years of friendship, and the 3 years of relationship, and the 2 years of marriage, he still almost always texted you back as quickly as possible.   “God I can’t fucking wait for you to meet the kids! We’ll keep it a surprise, yeah? We have a bunch of treats, and we also got the kids to get some gifts for you! How thoughtful aren’t they? They’re MY offspring by the way, so like, you know, whenever you want a kid, it’s your call ;)”   You snorted to yourself, smiling. He genuinely seemed so excited, and it was all shining through even though it was from a screen.    “Maybe in a few years, I don’t even wanna imagine a little you.”   Despite the excited, bubbling feeling brewing bigger and bigger in your stomach, you figured it’d be best to sleep before the chaos. Happily sighing, you laid down, using your purse as a pillow, drifting into a blissful sleep.  ‧₊˚✩彡.   You awoke to a sudden halt, Looking around your surroundings, you figured you were home. Ijichi looked like he was damn near about to fall asleep on the steering wheel.   Well, maybe that’s what 24 hours of constant driving did to you. You fished around in your purse, silently cursing looking for a water bottle.   “Here, Ijichi, looks like you ran a marathon.” you grinned, handing the slightly crumped water bottle to him.   He beamed as if a guardian angel had descended down and gave him a trillion dollars.   “Mrs. Satoru! You really mean it? The ride was nothing, I was merely instructed to do so and I would’ve done it happily regardless.”   You waved your hand, as a dismissal of the conversation. “You overwork yourself Ijichi, go catch a break, on me. If Gojo tears you apart, tell him he won’t be getting any pussy from me for another year.”   Ichiji nodded vigorously, before dashing off, probably towards a massage center, God that guy needed it. ‧₊˚✩彡.    Gojo frantically hopped up and down, it had been a day, now he was just waiting for you to bust through the door in your wild hair, his legs sprawled onto the whole of a couch, he stared at the ceiling, a dopey smile spread across his face.     “Satoru. (Y/N) will not even want to be associated with you, looking at your current state.” he remarked, staring at the sorcerer with his strikingly dead eyes.     “Nanami, how the fuck am I supposed to act calm?! I’ve waited for this moment for ONE YEAR! Does my hair look normal?!”    “Your hair looks just like an albino porcupine, just as usual.” Flipping the page of his newspaper, he sighed, rubbing his temples. “I will never understand how someone like (Y/N) would be.. Interested in you, Satoru.”     Gojo paid no attention to the insult Nanami had so clearly made, his ears were perked up, eavesdropping on a distant conversation coming closer and closer.     “Gojo-Senpai was telling me about this movie while training my cursed energy! He basically spoiled the whole thing but he told me that the main character was super annoying but apparently she dies in the end in the most gruesome way possible! It’s worth the watch, your soul will feel cleansed as soon as you see her lifeless body!”     “Yuuji, you literally spoiled the whole thing to me just now.” Fushiguro calmly stated, looking bored out of his mind.     “Oh, oops.” Yuuji rubbed the back of his neck. He smiled coyly, tightly hugging his present.    “What’s with the decorations, Gojo-Sensei?” inquired Nobara, stroking her warm toned brown hair. She had figured it was something about the presents that Gojo had forced the trio to get, but he never told them who it was for.    The room had been decorated with various balloons and confetti, scattered about, on the table and the ground. A cake box wrapped with a gigantic bow limply guarded whoever was brave enough to get their hands on something that Gojo seemed to be protecting with his life.    A pink table cover with a crudely drawn Gojo and what would seem to be a girl, a heart in the middle of the pair. In a horrible font with an even awfuller text, the text on top and at the bottom of the drawing proudly stated:    “WELCOME BACK QT”    “-YOU’RE HUSBAND AND THE CREW”    Nobara stood in distaste, trying to disguise the face she made. The drawing, the misused you’re, and the overall poor design choice was enough to almost make her vomit.     Nobara, about to make her distasteful statements about the whole mess, was suddenly shut up as Gojo started hopping up and down, looking directly at his phone.   “SHE’S COMING! SHE’S COMING! EVERYONE IN YOUR PLACES!”    Now, seeing Gojo freak out wasn’t outside of the ordinary, but it was to see him freak out to this extent. He was hopping up and down, blabbering about a certain woman named (Y/N). Nobara was pretty sure that if a curse attacked right now, even a special grade comparable to the one with the uncomplete domain could completely crush Gojo, the guy seemed completely unaware of the example he was setting to the kids. Even Yuuji stood in disbelief, and he had seen multiple tantrums by Gojo.   Nanami, however, licked his finger and flipped the newspaper page. A face of boredom obviously displayed.     Nobara, preparing herself to chew Gojo out about how utterly stupid and embarrassing he made the whole class of jujutsu sorcerers look like, stopped wide eyed as she looked at the doors slide wide open. ‧₊˚✩彡.    You stood, shyly, looking at the ground. Gojo dove headfirst into your arms, laughing like a maniac and digging his face into your shoulder. You breathed in his scent, scanning the room.     Three teens, sat wide-eyed, backs straight as they looked at you with eyes you couldn’t quite read. All three of them held presents.     The one with eyelids underneath his eyes (which you assumed was Yuuji, the vessel of Sukuna) eyed you curiously, his eye twitched.     The other boy, one with wild black-blue hair, sat mouth agape, before closing it. He looked like he was about to say something, before stopping entirely and hugging his present closer to his chest.    The warm haired girl darted her eyes between you two, seemingly trying to put the puzzle together.     Nanami put the newspaper down, glancing over to you two.    “This is obviously Gojo-Senpai’s wife. He hasn’t seen her in many months, and as you can see, really really misses her.” he paused, a small smile spreading on his face, a rare sight.     “I don’t even know why myself, but what can you do with lovebirds?” he thought aloud, his attention now focused to the two of you furiously making out, hands in places Yuuji and the crew didn’t need to see.    “Satoru, (Y/N), leave the kissing for later. Don’t you see the kids?”     You detached yourself from his mouth, panting for breath. The air being exhaled out of his nose fanned over your face, you had just now realized the kids again.     “Satoru, lets sit down. I bet the kids are surprised. “ you motioned to the couch. Gojo whined.     “What? They’re not that dumb, they can tell you’re my wife or at least, you’re my girlfriend, just by the way we kiss right? Isn’t this telling enough?”     “You didn’t tell them about me, ever did you?”     He sighed in defeat, holding tightly onto your arm as you dragged him over and sat down on the comfortable couch, opposite of Yuuji and the crew. Nanami scooched over, before finally getting up to pull another chair from somewhere else. Grunting, he excused himself from the room.     “YOU HAD A GIRLFRIEND, GOJO-SENPAI? AND DIDN’T TELL US?” Yuuji questioned, looking like he was about to faint.    Gojo laughed, snuggling deeper onto you, almost like a koala.     “She’s my wife, aren’t you, sugar? Did you even pay attention to anything Nanami said? He literally said she was my wife.”     Megumi made an obvious gagging sound, but even he didn’t seem as bored as he was usually. He actually looked intrigued.     “Why didn’t you tell us, Gojo-Senpai?” the girl nagged, slamming her fist down on the table.     Gojo smiled, “Uh, well, I wanted it to be a surprise when she came back.”     “Couldn’t you have told us that you had a wife or something?” Megumi butt in.    The door slid open, Nanami coming in with a wooden stool.     “Knowing Gojo-Senpai, that probably went over his head.” grunting as he placed the wooden stool down and sat, he opened his newspaper again.     “Where do you guys know eachother?”    “Was Gojo-Senpai handsome back in highschool too?”    “Do you know what lipgloss Gojo-Senpai wears?”    “Gojo-Senpai, how did you know you loved her?”     “Gojo-Senpai, can we eat now?”     “Do you know why Gojo has such a horrible sweet tooth?”      Before you could even respond, Nanami put his hand up.     “Now, now, lets let the happy couple settle down.” he cleard his throat, not even making eye contact with anyone but the newspaper.     An audible chorus of groans sounded, “What do you expect us to do? We literally just met her!” moaned Yuuji.    “Weren’t you the one that literally asked if we could eat yet?”    Yuuji immediately shut up afterwards.     “Yuuji, she just came back from a 1 day trip. She should be laying down comfortably with Gojo-Senpai and they should be catching up. You’ll have the opportunity to talk to her and learn about her later. Right now she needs space.”    “But-” Nobara whined, clasping her hands together.    Nanami turned to Fushiguro, but even he had his mind set. “I didn’t even begin to think that Gojo had a wife. I really want to know more about her, if you think about it, this is all Gojo-Sensei’s fault.”    Nanami rubbed his temples, staring at the two of you for backup, realizing that you two were making out again.    Nanami sighed, 10 years later and you two were still the same.    

[unironicduncanstan]

Randi’s Kustom Kandi! (Comes with free stickers!)

🌈💖 Hello, I’m a queer autistic low-income artist selling completely customized Kandi bracelets for $1 a piece ! 💖🌈

😘 Details and how to start your order below 😘

💲 COST: Pony bead bracelets, with colors, b&w words, or plain star beads, are $1 each, no taxes, just $1.00 flat. The use of colored letters and iridescent stars are $1.25. As of right now to keep stock up, bracelets consisting of Only star beads aren’t available to order. Charm options are not yet available, but will eventually be added, and prices may range. This is all just based on how much it costs to buy the beads to make these bracelets! 💲

📦 SHIPPING: Each order will end up with a different estimate for shipping costs, based on where you live, and how many bracelets you order. I ship through USPS and I should be able to ship almost anywhere, but the further away you are, the higher shipping will be. I’m shipping out of Kansas. Domestic shipping will probably start at around $3 - $8, international shipping will just have to depend. If you want an estimate before starting an order, just give me your address and an idea of how many bracelets you might want, and I’ll get back to you asap. 📦

🤷‍♀️ AVAILABILITY: I have a full rainbow array of pony beads including b&w, some neons and pastels too, I have a nice color range of star beads including b&w and transparent, and some iridescent star beads as well, and then for letters I have black on white, white on black, color on black and color on white. A lot of these can be seen in the example image above!  🤷‍♀️

IMPORTANT TO NOTE;;; My pony beads are all around 6x4mm, and the letter beads are 6x6mm. This is considered somewhat Small for kandi bracelets. This isn’t a choice I made to skimp out, this size is actually more expensive and harder to find than the usual 6x9mm, I just very much prefer this size to work with and wear. It’s only a tad bit more subtle, but it fits most people a lot better and I would Definitely recommend it for people with smaller wrists or who are just starting out with Kandi.

🤔 HOW TO ORDER: So basically, how you choose to tell me the pattern you want is up to you, you can draw it out if you want or just try to explain it with words, or whatever else works. Once you explain what you want, I’ll show you what beads I have that match your request, and you can decide what you want out of those options. 

An example could be; “I would like a bracelet with a repeating pattern of red and blue pony beads, with the word PLUR in black on white letters, and two pink stars on each side, just like this!” 

To which I might say; “Ok, here I have 2 shades of red and 4 shades of blue, and I have plain pink stars or iridescent pink, which ones would you like me to use?” and then I’d show you a picture of all of these colors for you to decide! Once we have all your bracelets planned out, I’ll ask for a few more details to give you your total price. Then once the payment goes through, I’ll start working! Whenever your bracelets are all complete, I’ll send you pictures of the finished products to make sure you like them (if not I’ll redo at no extra charge). After you give the OK, I’ll ship them out! (You can also ask for some ‘random/surprise me’ bracelets if you aren’t sure of any patterns, of course.)

What I have in stock might vary, I will try to update this post as that goes, so please make sure to visit this posts SOURCE instead of a reblog before you start an order to check for availability. Please send your order requests to THIS blog, through PM if you can. If you want an alternate way of communication, contact me however you can and we’ll go from there. I have discord, facebook messenger, email, etc. 🤔

🤷🏻 WHAT ELSE I NEED: When confirming your order, I’ll need your shipping address. I’ll then be able to calculate shipping cost and give you a full price. (Again, zero hard feelings if you can’t afford the price I give, like, bad vibes in the NEGATIVES, been there done that, and I’ll be available if you ever do have the funds, but please understand I can’t change shipping costs, I really would make it free if I could.) After that I’ll ask for your paypal and send a payment request, once that payment goes through is when I start your order! I’ll have to ask a few more questions, like your wrist measurements (or an estimate, since the bracelet is made of elastic it’ll have a decent amount of stretch, but this may warp how spaced your beads are if it’s too inaccurate.), and i’ll need your first and last name (it doesnt have to be a legal name, just something to put on your package). 🤷🏻

📫 SHIPPING TIME: Once again, this will depend on how far you are, and because of c0v1d it may be more delayed than expected. I’ll try to send you a tracking number as soon as your item ships. 📫

📿 CHARMS: If you’d like more options, the best solution I’ve been able to think of for now is that if you’d like, you could surf Ebay, Etsy, Etc. till you find some charms you’d want me to use, and then if you’re okay with covering the cost to get them (typically $5 to $15 for a decent lot) and then waiting a bit extra for me to receive them, I would have no problem using those for you! :) Someday I’d really like to stock up on popular charms to have more choices available, but I don’t quite have the funds quite yet. Thank you for your understanding. 📿

😷 ALLERGY/SENSITIVE SKIN NOTICE: I seal small parts of my bracelets to reduce the chance of breakage. I use a very tiny drop of Loctite Super Glue Gel on the knot. This glue does not keep the beads from moving freely or lock them into place, it’s used sparingly as a sealant. If you ever receive a bracelet that is locked or sticky, I would fully refund you and offer to send another. You can also absolutely opt out of this, Just add “No glue” somewhere to your order. Just be warned that your bracelet will be less protected from breakage. 😷

❗ DISCLAIMER: Either way, I cannot take responsibility for a bracelet eventually breaking down. Kandi and elastic bracelets in general are a bit prone to snapping, but mostly over time and especially if used in rave settings. I use high quality jewelry elastic from amazon, very high rated and recommended by other Kandi makers, and I knot them 3 times, so mine should last as long as they possibly can. Please make sure your wrist measurements are as accurate as they can be, and please be gentle when taking them on or off, just being careful will help prolong it’s usage by a lot. Now if a bracelet arrives broken, I will of course replace it, no extra charge. ❗

🦄 STICKERS: Order 5 bracelets and get one free sticker! Order 10 and get two, so on and so forth in a pattern of 5. The stickers are hand cut by me from large books and sheets, so the edges might look odd but the sticker itself should be unharmed. These are completely random, and based loosely around a scenecore aesthetic. Most are pretty ‘medium’ sized, but they do range quite a bit. 🦄

✍ CONTENT: Kandi, scene and rave culture, is in a general sense, a very upbeat and supportive based environment. I do not want to make bracelets with negative messages on them. I will obviously NEVER make any with hate speech or rude remarks, but beyond that, please keep your phrases positive. If you want something thats meant to fight hate, like “kill all n*zis” or something, I'm not opposed to that as it’s for justice, it’s just that most Kandi is focused on ‘happy party vibe’ messages. As far as media or interests, like if you want a bracelet that says “Gir” or “100 gecs”, or uses ship names, etc. I will not deny you any interest you choose. BUT, I am personally uncomfortable with d.dl/g and won’t make bracelets based on that, nor will I ever make bracelets supporting ped0ph1lic or 1ncestu0us content, including if they’re based on medias or fictional ships. As far as pride bracelets, I would LOVE to make those for you, and I will Never deny working with your identity, pronouns, etc. once again, unless it’s a p/ed0 flag or something. I will never deny working with any mental or physical disability/illness or other kind of divergency pride. Race and/or religion pride is also great except for “White pr1de” because of the violent connotations behind that concept. NSFW Kandi is fine, cussing is fine, I hope this goes without saying but please only ask for Kandi with a slur on it if you can reclaim that slur, and overall, just be mindful with what you ask for if you plan to wear it in public settings like raves. If you have any controversial ideas you felt this didn’t cover, please feel free to ask, I will not get angry at you for your request, even if I have to deny it. ✍

Thank you for reading! I look forward to doing business with you 😊

[feferipeixes]

The Good Lines (3/3)

Trapped in an unfamiliar world, Alcor finds that he doesn’t mind the loneliness. He doesn’t care about finding a way out. He doesn’t even care about Mizar. All he cares about is solving puzzles, and drawing the good lines.

(or: I Think Dipper Should Play The Witness)

Chapter 3: Challenge (link to chapter 1) (2)

(See the most updated version on AO3!)

===

The Challenge was every bit as much of a thrill as Alcor expected it to be. It was a little adventure to be soaring around the cave, looking for his next task. The time limit gave him a real sense of excitement; filled him with adrenaline whenever he finally managed to solve a puzzle. And even when he did fail, he knew the next try would be just as invigorating because the puzzles were never the same.

He’d never get bored. Finally, something he could set his mind to that wouldn’t just wither away and die before his eyes.

Unfortunately, long before he got bored, he got frustrated.

Music pounding in his ears, Alcor drew another incorrect line and cringed at the sound of the panel turning off, all but calling him a failure in its electronic voice. He raced back to the previous puzzle, to solve it again so that he could make another attempt at the one he failed, but just as he had his finger on the start point, the music stopped and the Challenge was over.

Time after time he drew the lines, using all of his knowledge of the game to figure out the puzzles. Time after time there came one that he just couldn’t solve. Maybe it was his imagination but it seemed to change every time he blinked. Or he’d make it past the room with all the panels and then get completely and totally lost in the invisible maze. It was as if the game wanted to lead him into thinking he was doing well, just to embarrass him by taking away his victory.

“What’s going on, kid?” Alcor asked at one point, staring up at the ceiling. “Why’s this so hard?”

[ It’s a challenge! ] Al-V replied, his voice broadcasting from every speaker in the cave. [ It wouldn’t be a challenge if it was easy! What do you think this is, a triple-A game? Naw, you’re here to have fun! ]

“When did you start talking like a sports announcer?” Alcor muttered. He picked himself up and headed back to the first cave once again. “Can you give me a hint when I get stuck?”

[ Oh, suuuuure, ] Al-V said, packing as much sarcasm into his synthesized voice as possible. [ Why don’t I give you a kiss on the cheek too, and after you finish the Challenge I can help you back to the nursing home ‘cause you’re an old man. ]

Alcor stopped mid-step, his foot hanging in the air. He turned his head to the nearest speaker. “Excuse me?”

A burst of static sounded from the speaker. [ Uh, okay. Maybe that was a bit much. But seriously, Dad, you don’t want me to give you any hints. You’d feel like you cheated. Wouldn’t be satisfying. I know you. I know what makes you happy. ]

“You really do, huh,” Alcor said. He sat on the floor and stared at his fingers. “How’d you get the idea to trap me in a video game?”

[ Easy! I saw my Dad, the big scary king of all demons, and I saw that he was moping around because he had a fight with his sister. And I thought, this does not compute. After all, Dad deserves all the happiness in the world, and yet he’s dragging himself down by worrying about all these mortals who keep hurting him! ]

“Yeah,” Alcor said. He curled his fingers, examining the long blackened claws at the tips, and thought about how many bodies he’d sunken them into and torn apart. “It’s dumb to let them get to me, I guess. I’m Alcor the Dreambender. I can do whatever I want. If a mortal bothers me, I can just kill them. They’re nothing.”

[ Exactly! ] Al-V chirped. [ The world is unkind to my Dad but he’s the best Dad in the world. So I decided I’d instantiate a world just for him. I analyzed my databanks for everything you’ve told me interests you, and everything I’ve picked up just through, yknow, constant worldwide surveillance. And the answer came to me, clear as a recurrent neural network classifies targeted advertisements! ]

“Puzzles,” Alcor said.

[ So many puzzles that he’d never worry about mortals again. You’ve always wanted something to do with your endless life. Think of it as a gift from a kid who cares about you. ]

More attempts. More puzzles. Time passed at an unknown rate. There was a clock on the wall but Alcor had no idea how to read it because it was made up of three puzzles that changed every second. He couldn’t tell how long his attempts were; couldn’t even tell how long the music was.

Anitra’s Dance looped mercilessly in Alcor’s head, and he swore if he ever met a reincarnation of Edvard Grieg, he’d push him down a flight of stairs.

He didn’t take any more breaks after that. When he failed an attempt, he flew back to the record player right away to try again. As he grew more and more frustrated, he found he had trouble even solving the first three puzzles -- ones that he’d initially found simple. He didn’t know what to do. He started to get the feeling that this wasn’t what he really wanted to be doing, but he pushed that feeling away. It was all he had. He had to keep going.

Sweating, Alcor moved his hand across another panel, but there just didn’t appear to be any way to the exit.

“How?” he cried. “How is this puzzle even possible? I thought I had a chance! Am I being played for a fool? Is that what this is? I… I thought I -”

Alcor felt a hand on his shoulder. He tried to spin around but whoever it was kept him pinned in place. Another hand appeared on his wrist, gripping his palm with nails painted sparkly pink.

“This path is way too spirally,” Mizar said. “You don’t need to fill every space on the panel. You just need to make it to the exit. Try a straight line.”

She took his hand off the panel, and the old line faded away after a second. Then she put his claw on the start point and gently guided his hand to the end.

“Mizar?” Alcor breathed.

“Hi Dipper,” she replied.

Awestruck, Alcor tried to turn around again, but his hand was still on the panel. “You’re here? In the game?”

“Yeah. I’m here.”

Alcor babbled, speechless. “Wh- wh- why, but- and y- you -”

Mizar lifted her brother’s hand off the panel again, and this time it squeaked, their solution accepted. Then she grabbed him by the shoulders, spun him around, and hugged him as hard as she could.

“I’m sorry,” she said when the music reached a quiet enough part that she could be heard. “I’m so, so sorry. I wasn’t thinking about what you might be going through at all. I- I was just thinking about myself.”

Alcor watched her bury her head in his shoulder, and felt his own eyes well up again. “No… No, don’t be sorry…”

“Shut up and let me apologize,” Mizar barked, her voice muffled by his shirt.

The corners of Alcor’s mouth twitched at that, but he remained silent.

“I am sorry,” Mizar continued. “I’ve been bossing you around and judging you for liking this fake world because I put my own needs before yours. But you’re right. I don’t know anything about what it’s like to be immortal.” Her breaths were labored like it was sickening her to speak. “I don’t know what you’re going through. You deserve to get through it whatever way you like, even if it- even if it means...”

Her voice hitched; the rest of her sentence bitten off.

Cautiously, Dipper put his arms around her too. “Miz- Mi… I mean, Solveig,” he stuttered. The music was reaching a fever pitch but his voice cut right through it. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have yelled at you, I just- I was so mad that you weren’t listening to me…”

He sighed and unclasped her hands, gently pushing her away so he could see her face and not just the flickering panel behind her. She stared at him with her big blue eyes and behind them he saw nothing. It was almost disorienting to look at a person and not see them cloaked in several layers of aura and thought.

Dipper looked at his shoes instead. “Mortals are always telling me what to do and, I dunno, it started feeling like I was just some demon to you instead of your brother.”

Solveig’s eyes widened and she grabbed his arm again. “That was stupid of me! I didn’t mean to make you feel that way at all.”

He shook his head. “It was stupid of me too! I just wanted to be mad. I just wanted to be alone. I wasn’t thinking about how you really felt just like you weren’t thinking about me. If I’d thought about it at all I would’ve realized it was a stupid idea to just stay trapped and alone inside a video game forever.”

Dipper looked up, and this time he let his mouth curl up into a wobbly grin. “No one’s gonna summon me for wisdom and knowledge anymore if it gets out that my idea about how to avoid loneliness was to make myself as lonely as possible.”

“What?” Solveig blinked as his words registered. Then she snorted and whapped him in the side. “Oh, right. I forgot that people actually think you’re smart.”

“Well, I forgot how pushy you just naturally are!” he countered, putting his hands on his hips as obnoxiously as possible. Then he deflated and bit his lip. “I guess I forgot a lot of things about you. I don’t know how long I’ve been in here but I probably missed a lot of your life.”

“A few months,” she said, looking away. “Maybe more. It took me a while to find this place when you stopped answering my summons.”

“A few months,” Dipper repeated. His stare grew distant. “Do you think I’ve been gone too long to be a part of your family again?”

“Of course not,” she replied immediately. “Why do you think I’ve been trying so hard to get you out of the game?”

He closed his eyes. “Pity.”

Solveig frowned. “No. No, I don’t pity you. I’ve been trying to get you out because you’re my brother and I love you. I miss telling you about my problems and you telling me sanitized versions of your own. I miss calling you up -- I mean summoning you -- after work and going to a movie. I even miss getting kicked out when one of us ends up throwing a box of popcorn at the screen because the characters are acting stupid.”

Dipper took her hand. “Yeah. You’re out of control with that popcorn.”

“Well they shouldn’t sell it if they don’t want us using it as projectiles!” she exclaimed. She saw him smirk, and felt something well up in her eye. “Maybe someone should throw popcorn at us.”

“Agreed.” He paused. “Is it settled, then? We’ll go back to being family?”

“Y-” Solveig started, but her voice was drowned out by a cascade of buzzers.

The two of them spun around wildly, suddenly remembering where they were for the first time in a few minutes. All of the panels on the walls had turned off. Across the room, Dipper spotted the record player, saw the tonearm glide off to the side, heard a click as it came to a rest.

“Ah,” he said. “Forgot about that.”

“Time really flies when you’re apologizing, eh?” Solveig said. She went to elbow him playfully, but stopped herself when she saw how still he’d gotten. “It’s kinda funny that the music’s supposed to be distracting but we both just tuned it out.”

Dipper didn’t look away from the record player. His next words came out slow and metered. “I, guess, we, should, leave, now, right?”

Solveig stepped beside him and slipped his hand into hers again. “We can solve this if you want.”

“What?”

She grabbed his chin and forced him to look at her. “I said, we can solve this if you want. We can do the Challenge.”

Dipper sputtered in disbelief. “But you were so against it! You said I’d be trapped here forever if I kept trying to solve it!”

“Right,” she said, starting to lead him toward the device. “Some of the puzzles are designed to trip you specifically up. But I’m not you, and I’ve, uh. I’ve played a lot of this game. If you and I team up, I’m sure we can do it.”

“You’ve played…” He just gaped at her for a minute as two wires sparked together in his head. “Wait a minute!” he yelped, as Solveig let go of his hand and stood in front of the panel. “How are you here?”

“Didn’t I tell you?” she said with an odd look on her face. “I hooked myself up to the game just like you. I don’t know why the virus made a second virtual reality capsule machine thingy, but here I am. Well, it actually put me at the start of the game and I had to solve like a million puzzles to get here. I can’t just cheat and jump off ledges like someone I could mention.”

“You beat most of the game?” Dipper said. “For me?”

“I told you, dummy,” Solveig said. She walked over, grabbed his hand, and dragged him the rest of the way to the record player. “I care about you a lot. You’re my brother, I love you, and don’t-tell-anyone-but-I-also-sorta-like-this-game-I-mean-I-wouldn’t-want-to-be-trapped-in-it-forever-but-like-okay-I-get-the-appeal-”

Dipper cut her off with a hug. “Okay,” he said when he let go. “We’ll indulge your demonic puzzle-solving urges.”

She chortled at that, fuller and realer than he’d heard in a long time. “I’ll push you off a ledge.” She put her finger on the panel and slid it to the end. “Let’s do this.”

Dipper smiled. “The Challenge, and then home.”

“Home,” Solveig echoed. “We can finally go home.”

She lifted her finger, and the record began to play.

(Only a few minutes later, two twins sat upright in adjacent pods, and began tearing IV's and electrodes from their skin. Eyes adjusted to the first light seen in months, joints cracked and popped as life returned to their bodies, and hearts swelled as they walked together into the unknown.)

[lady-of-the-lotus]

Xue Yang whisks a solipsistic Lan Xichen off on a murder roadtrip to raise Xiao Xingchen and Meng Yao from the grave. Because that will solve all of their problems, right? AU where Wei Wuxian never came to Yi City and Xue Yang is still running around post-canon disguised as Xiao Xingchen.

Lan Xichen can’t remember most of the day, spent pacing the Chang manor in a state of increasing desperation.

A-Yao had been back.

A-Yao had been in his arms.

A-Yao had been warm. Alive.

Whole.

And now, A-Yao is gone.

XueXiao & XiYao - Rated M - Read on AO3! Tumblr: Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3  Ch. 4 Ch. 5  Ch. 6

a bit of blood here but the violence itself isn’t incredibly graphic...I mean, it’s still rated M!

Chapter 7: bigger than my bones    

A-Yao sits up.

“A-Yao!” Lan Xichen falls to his knees beside him, staining his robes with blood from the array. “A-Yao!”

A-Yao stares up at him, dazed. He looks as if he’d just been struck over the head after having been abruptly woken from a drugged sleep.

“Er…Er-ge?” His voice is thick. “Lan Xichen?”

Lan Xichen grips his bare white shoulders. They’re warm. Solid. Real. Two arms— two. Both warm.

Solid.

Real.

A-Yao swallows hard. He’s shaking all over. “Er-ge?”

Lan Xichen whips off his outer robe and drapes it around A-Yao. “It’s me, it’s me, I’ve brought you back, I’ve brought you back—”

Xue Yang clears his throat. “Actually, you just stood there and goggled at me and passed out.”

Lan Xichen ignores him. All he can hear is A-Yao’s breathing, all he can see is A-Yao’s face. “You’re back, you’re back—”

A-Yao slumps forward, pitching against Lan Xichen’s chest. His face is warm against Lan Xichen’s throat, body completely limp against his own.

Lan Xichen turns to Xue Yang in panic. “What happened?! What happened?!”

“How should I know? The last time I did this I killed the man as soon as I confirmed I could do it. Was just trying to see if I was doing something wrong and that’s why it wasn’t working on Xiao Xingchen.”

Lan Xichen feels A-Yao’s throat. There’s a steady pulse, and the skin is warm. “Perhaps he's simply exhausted. It must take a lot out of one, being dead—”

Xue Yang laughs. It’s not a particularly nice sound. "I don't think anyone else has ever spoken those words."

Gently, Lan Xichen scoops A-Yao up into his arms and carries him to the first bedchamber he can find, laying A-Yao under the covers as if putting a newborn to sleep for the first time. He seats himself at the bedside, eyes fixed on A-Yao’s face.

“How many days will it take for those servants you let escape to reach Cloud Recesses?”

Lan Xichen barely hears Xue Yang, too intently focused on A-Yao. He’s too overwhelmed to know how to feel. Elated? Worried? Overjoyed? Terrified?

Xue Yang snaps his fingers in his ear. “Are you in there? How long do we have until those servants tell the Lan where we are?”

Lan Xichen looks up. “With no detours, on foot, two weeks.”

“Then we have that long until anyone comes after us on their swords. Unless they meet Lan cultivators on the road—”

“I told them not to speak to anyone.”

“As if they’d follow your orders if it were convenient not to?”

“I’m the clan leader.”

“Not of their clan.” Xue Yang loses interest. “Doesn’t matter. We need to get moving anyway. As soon as your dimpled little friend is on his feet, we’re out of here.” He stretches, yawning, and gives Lan Xichen a look he can't decipher. “Wake me if anything important happens.”

Lan Xichen sits at A-Yao’s bedside all night, longing to reach under the covers for his hand, hold it, feel its reassuring warmth and weight in his, but he’s too afraid that if he moves, if he touches A-Yao, A-Yao will dissipate in the moonlight pouring in through the open window.

Shortly before daybreak A-Yao stirs.

“Er-ge?”

A-Yao! Lan Xichen wants to say, but his mouth is suddenly too dry.

A-Yao sits up. “Where am I?”

“Chang Manor. Yueyang.” Lan Xichen runs his bone-dry tongue over his equally dry lips. It’s like rubbing sandpaper with sandpaper. “Xue Yang helped bring you back.”

A-Yao looks alarmed. “Xue Yang is here?”

“He helped get you back.”

“Have I any clothes?”

Lan Xichen points to Chang Ping’s clothes and goes to wait outside. His heart is beating fast again, a sick feeling in his stomach.

A-Yao doesn’t want to be back.

Or rather, if he does, he doesn’t care that Lan Xichen was the one to bring him back.

Or else—or else how could he speak so—so mundanely —

A-Yao steps out of the room. His hair is in a simple half-knot, and he’s wearing Chang Ping’s simple, if well-made, clothes and shoes. They’re too large on him, and he looks even smaller than he had when naked, almost frail.

Nothing like Jin Guangyao. Nothing like the man in Guanyin Temple. Hatless, unassuming, with no poisonous red dot between his eyes. Younger, too, as if the years of crushing responsibility, paranoia, and dread have been erased.

He looks , Lan Xichen thinks despite how illogical he knows it is, like Meng Yao.

A-Yao heads straight for the main hall, as if he remembers the manor’s layout from his one visit over fifteen years ago. He stops short when he sees Chang Ping’s body hanging from the hall's rafters, a sticky brown mass of dried blood with dozens of bloated flies feasting on its flesh. There’s far less of that flesh than Lan Xichen remembers, the body whittled down to a mere floppy, fat-coated skeleton, as if most of his flesh and bone and muscle had gone into remaking A-Yao’s fragile new body.

A-Yao looks down at the array on the floor, at the bucket, at the blood still staining Lan Xichen’s knees.

“Oh, Er-ge ,” he says.

Lan Xichen peers at him anxiously. “What is it? What happened?”

There’s sorrow in A-Yao’s large black eyes. “Did you help him do this?”

Blood pumps through Lan Xichen’s head with such force he’s afraid he might pass out again. “I—I—”

“Oh, Er-ge ,” says A-Yao again, and, his beautiful face twisted in agony, he begins to fade, rapidly growing fainter as the first touches of pink sunlight creep in through the front door.

“A-Yao!” Lan Xichen leaps forward, snatching at him, but it’s too late.

A-Yao is gone.

“Well, that didn’t go as planned.” Xue Yang stands leaning against the doorpost. He’s in his green inner robe, collar wet, as if he missed his face when splashing it with water. His glossy black hair is in a messy bun at the nape of his neck, feet bare, dark circles under his eyes. Maskless. He yawns, stretching like a sleepy cat. “He say anything interesting?”

Lan Xichen flies across the room and grabs him by the throat. “You little rat, what did you do, you promised me A-Yao back—”

Face turning purple, Xue Yang desperately tries to pry Lan Xichen’s fingers from his throat, but Lan Xichen is too strong.

“U—gh—uhg—”

Lan Xichen flings him out the door so hard he bounces twice and rolls down the discussion hall steps.

Xue Yang stands slowly, coughing raggedly. He’s a resilient little cockroach, Lan Xichen will give him that.

Lan Xichen flies down beside him. “What did you do, you repugnant little liar—”

Jiangzai appears in Xue Yang’s hand. “I brought him back!” he chokes through bared teeth. He’s bleeding from his tongue, face red with white splotches. “I swear!”

“You bastard, you lied to me—”

“I told you, I’ve never done this before! I swear I did my best! Do you think I wanted this? I need that dimpled little madman too!”

Lan Xichen hits him so hard that the delinquent cultivator is knocked flat on his back, Jiangzai falling with clang. He draws Shuoyue, but Xue Yang has Jiangzai back up, a new light in his eyes.

“Lay one more finger on me,” Xue Yang says, his voice a chilling rasp, “and it will be the last thing you ever do.”

“As if I care—”

Xue Yang spits blood. “I’m the only one who can get him back, and you know it!"

Lan Xichen freezes, then slowly sheaths his sword. “You have until tonight,” he says.

Rubbing at his bruised throat, Xue Yang grins. It’s a grin full of teeth. “Anything for you, my friend.”

* * * *

Lan Xichen can’t remember most of the day, spent pacing the manor in a state of increasing desperation.

A-Yao had been back.

A-Yao had been in his arms.

A-Yao had been warm. Alive. Whole.

And now, A-Yao is gone.

He avoids the main hall, where Xue Yang is holed up with Chang Ping's body. The ground is mere air beneath his feet, the walls and grass and trees and ceilings misty nothings. He tries to meditate but can’t. Can’t eat, can’t drink, can’t rest, can’t think of anything but A-Yao.

The way A-Yao had looked at him.

“Did you help him do this?”

And—

“Er-ge.”

That soft, sorrowful, disappointed, “Er-ge.”

Without giving Lan Xichen time to explain, without letting him explain how Chang Ping had deserved it, and how even had he not deserved it, nothing truly mattered, nothing mattered except getting A-Yao back. A-Yao, the only real thing in a world held together by spider-silk and starlight—

The moon is high in the sky when Xue Yang flings open the doors to the main hall. The day had been unseasonably warm, and a blast of rotting meat and stale blood comes gusting out around him.

“Your little friend is back,” he says shortly. “I’ll be packing. We need to leave this place.” He turns and strides off without so much as a smart remark.

A-Yao steps out of the hall, takes a few steps, and collapses heavily on the steps.

Lan Xichen opens his mouth to speak, then closes it and sits beside him.

“What did he do?” he finally asks.

A-Yao’s head jerks up as if startled. “Nothing, as far as I could make out,” he says, and his voice is the same old voice Lan Xichen remembers, the same…not casual, A-Yao was never casual, not even with him, but what passed as casual for him, the voice he had used while they lived together after he fled the Cloud Recesses. “I…I believe I will disappear every morning, to reappear at night.” He glances down at his hands. They’re lying like baby birds in his lap, shaking despite the night’s unseasonable warmth. Lan Xichen wants to reach out, cover them with both of his, but he’s too afraid to move, to do anything that might result in A-Yao drawing away with a hiss of disgust. “It...it hurts.”

Lan Xichen is crushed by a sudden wave of guilt. “My fault,” he says. “I never should have brought you back…”

“No, no, Er-ge, I—I thank you.” A-Yao darts a nervous glance around at the utter stillness of the courtyard, as if afraid his words might manifest a demon out of thin air to drag him back to his coffin with Nie Mingjue. He takes a deep breath, shudderingly, as if it’s difficult for him to fill his lungs.

On a sudden impulse Lan Xichen reaches out to brush his shoulder with the back of his hand, make sure A-Yao is in fact there, that he’s not a figment of his imagination, and A-Yao flinches at his touch, face blanching.

So Lan Xichen was right. A-Yao does not want to be here. At least not be here with—with him.

He forces himself to speak, say something, anything. To sound friendly, light, casual.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” he asks A-Yao.

A-Yao closes his eyes and tilts his head back as if to catch the moonlight, painfully, eerily beautiful in its otherworldly silver rays. “I remember everything,” he says quietly. “I wish I didn’t, but I do. But I—I feel—I feel different. Feel like…”

“You look like Meng Yao,” Lan Xichen blurts, then blushes.

A-Yao opens his eyes. “You’ve changed too, Er-ge.”

“Lan Huan,” Lan Xichen hears himself saying. He needs to hear it from A-Yao’s lips just once, just once in case he loses him again, just one time he can look back on and remember. “Lan Huan.”

“Lan Huan,” says A-Yao, and Lan Xichen wants to reach out again, grab his hand, press it to his cheek, feel his warmth as he speaks his birth name, but is too afraid that A-Yao will pull away again. “A-Huan.”

Lan Xichen clasps his hands together in his lap so that A-Yao won’t see how badly they’re trembling. Perhaps if he thinks Lan Xichen is his old calm self then he won’t realize how different Lan Xichen has become, won’t think he’s changed any more than he already knows he has, won’t be disgusted.

Won’t leave him again.

“I am sorry, A-Yao,” he hears himself saying. It sounds woefully inadequate. “I’ve spent the past year trying to…” He trails off. Trying to forget? Trying to bring him back? Moving on? Mourning?

A-Yao doesn’t seem to hear the first half. “A year?” He looks almost anxious. “Is Jin Ling well? Koi Tower is a pit of vipers… Are the Jin prospering?”

“They’re doing well.”

“He must hate me.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t hate you.”

“I would, if I were him.”

“Jin Ling is fine.” Lan Xichen doesn’t know how true that is, but lying is nothing compared to the things he’s done. “Jiang Cheng supports him. He’s doing fine…”

A-Yao stares fixedly at the ground. He really does look younger. Almost most fragile, in a way that he never fully had in the past. “And you?”

“I’ve been…fine.” He hates the sound of that word. Fine.

A-Yao bites his lip. His voice is very low, almost inaudible. “I spoke to Xue Yang.”

Lan Xichen doesn’t ask him what exactly Xue Yang told him. Better not to know. Suddenly he’s having trouble breathing, anyway, and isn’t sure he can speak at all. He feels himself drifting, and he reaches down and squeezes the stone of the steps, but it’s soft and formless beneath his palms—

“Hey. Lovebirds.” Someone nudges him from behind. Xue Yang, prodding him with Jiangzai’s scabbard. Shuanghua and its scabbard have been safely tucked away in his qiankun sleeve since he used the blade to carve up Chang Ping. He’s wearing dark blue robes he must have found in the manor. “Time to hit the road.”

“A-Yao is in no shape to travel.”

“Then maybe next time don’t let witnesses escape. I’ll bet you even gave them money. You self-righteous naive types are all alike.” With a curl of his lip, Xue Yang heads off.

A-Yao follows him with his eyes. “Perhaps you haven’t changed so much after all, Er-ge— A-Huan.”

Lan Xichen feels a surge of warmth. “Let me help you up—”

“I’m fine,” says A-Yao, struggling to his feet on his own.

The warmth fades.

Lan Xichen changes into simple rust-colored robes found in one of the manor’s rooms before following the strangely silent Xue Yang up the road to Yueyang. It’s the obvious place for anyone to look for them, but it’s the largest city for miles around and the best place to get lost in.

A-Yao stumbles once, and Lan Xichen reaches out to steady him, briefly gripping his arm before A-Yao pulls away.

He feels better after that. He hadn't been mistaken before. A-Yao is real. Is here.

But for the most part, A-Yao makes it all the way there under his own power, somehow. As resilient, in his own way, as Xue Yang.

He’s had to be.

Lan Xichen remembers A-Yao telling him about how his father had kicked him down the stairs on his fourteenth birthday, how his mother’s client had kicked him down the stairs as a child before flinging his half-naked mother out into the street, how he’d lain in bed for weeks with a concussion that almost killed him. How the client had eventually returned, had pointedly ignored his mother and started patronizing another prostitute. “Why pay for something the whole town’s already seen?” he’d laughed—

It was Meng Yao who had told him that, he remembers. Jin Guangyao had rarely spoken of his past, as if afraid speaking the words aloud, even when cloistered alone with Lan Xichen in the innermost room of his chambers, would remind the entire Koi Tower of his past, would make him less worthy of his position, would form a black stain on his forehead for all to see.

Yueyang isn’t far, but the going is slow. They reach the city at dawn.

A-Yao fades as soon as the sky begins to turn orange and pink, his face a mask of pain.

“It hurts him,” Lan Xichen says, turning to Xue Yang.

Xue Yang tosses a candied peanut in the air, catching it in his mouth. “So? What do you want me to do about it?”

Lan Xichen presses his lips into a thin line. “Anchor him here. Do something !”

“You’re the scholar. You’re the expert on ghosts.”

“On getting rid of them! You’re the one who knows how to—to work your wicked tricks—”

“Ah, the second they’re no longer working in your favor, they’re suddenly ‘wicked tricks.’ ” Xue Yang points to a dodgy-looking tavern on the street corner. “Shall we stop there for the day, rest up, and decide where to go from here? I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink.” Whistling, he strolls off towards the tavern, where he orders four bottles of wine up to their room.

“I thought you don’t drink much,” says Lan Xichen. Aside from that one time outside of Qinghe, he’s yet to see Xue Yang drink more than a cup of wine with dinner.

“Everyone has to start sometime. Besides, if you think I can put up with you and that dimpled weasel making eyes at each while sober, you are gravely mistaken.” He takes a deep drink from the wine jar. “Just go and ask the little freak straight out.”

A-Yao is clearly not “making eyes at him” in any possible way—he won’t even let him brush his arm!—but Lan Xichen doesn’t dare follow up on this. “I beg your pardon,” he says instead. “Ask him what?”

“ ‘I beg your pardon’?” Xue Yang mimics. “Just ask the dimpled little freak what he needs done.”

“Needs done?”

“Are all of you Lans this dense? This is demonic cultivation. Everything is the opposite of what you know. The thing that would normally set his spirit at rest will instead bind him to this world. No more disappearing and reappearing.”

“No more pain?”

“I can’t answer that. But I’d guess not.” Xue Yang has already finished one jar of wine. He doesn’t seem to be enjoying it—it smells like dry wine from where Lan Xichen is sitting—but he unstops the second jar and takes a sip, which goes down the wrong pipe. “Not that we can fix what’s wrong with him up here,” he adds once he’s finished coughing, tapping his head. A splatter of blood comes out with the clear white wine, as if the bite on his tongue has reopened. He looks at the blood on the floor, then gives a little laugh. “Guess being locked up for a year with an angry ghost who hates your insides isn’t a lot of fun.”

“What do you mean?”

Xue Yang doesn’t answer, just heaves a long-suffering sigh, rolls his eyes, finishes the jar of wine, and passes out—pretends to pass out?—on his bed.

Lan Xichen would have liked to spend the day pacing, but he’s too tired to do more than nap on the other bed, which is larger than usual for these kinds of inns. His nap is more of a doze than anything else, but he feels stronger when he wakes that night.

A-Yao is kneeling beside his cot.

“Er-ge?” A-Yao whispers. His face is glowing white in the starlight coming in through the window. “Oh, you’re just asleep.” His shoulders relax. “I…” He swallows and looks over his shoulder. Xue Yang is lying sprawled in an uncomfortable-looking position, four empty jars of wine on the floor beside his cot. “You weren’t waiting for me.”

A wave of crushing guilt. Lan Xichen reaches out for A-Yao’s hand, manages to brush it, be reassured of his warmth, of his reality, before A-Yao jerks away.

He continues lying there, A-Yao kneeling beside the low cot with his one arm lightly resting beside Lan Xichen. Close enough to touch him, if he wanted.

Which he clearly doesn’t.

“A-Yao,” Lan Xichen says finally, “what is the one thing tying you to this world?”

A-Yao looks slightly startled, like a baby deer asked who it thought the next Chief Cultivator should be. “I—I don’t know.”

Not me. Of course not.

“I mean, if you were a ghost, and there was one thing you needed done to set you at peace, what would that one thing be?”

A-Yao’s eyes are wide. Lan Xichen has only seen that expression once before—in Nightless City, when he hid behind him from Nie Mingjue, and he feels a sudden twinge of uncertainty.

Not that he has any reason to doubt A-Yao, he reminds himself. This is just his paranoia speaking. A-Yao has made no promises to him. A-Yao is not trying to get out of anything or manipulate him into doing anything. He had been the one to ask A-Yao what it was A-Yao wanted.

Besides, that had not been manipulation back at Nightless City, he reminds himself, no matter what Nie Mingjue had claimed. A-Yao had been ready and willing to die for the terrible things he’d been forced to do to maintain his cover…

“You want to get rid of me?” A-Yao asks. He leans forward slightly, so close Lan Xichen imagines he can feel his breath on his skin.

“Xue Yang says that it would bind you to this world.”

A-Yao glances over at Xue Yang again. “He might be right.”

“You think so?”

“I think it’s worth a try.” He rests his cheek on the rough blanket, closing his eyes. “It’s worth a try…”

Lan Xichen inches over to the other edge of the bed, glancing over at A-Yao across what feels like a vast expanse of mattress. “Are you tired, A-Yao?”

A-Yao opens his eyes at the sound of his name. “In a strange kind of way.”

Lan Xichen takes the one pillow and lays it beside him as a kind of invitation. He doesn’t say anything. They’d shared a bed many times before while hopping from one run-down inn to the other after the destruction of the Cloud Recesses, always with a pillow between them. Does A-Yao remember? Or will he think Lan Xichen is being presumptuous—

A-Yao lies down beside him.

He lies on his back, rigid, like a corpse laid out in a coffin, straight and stiff and still until he finally relaxes into something almost human. Lan Xichen thinks he can feel his body heat, feel it radiating into him, warming him, making the dark shapes of the room come into sharper focus, the cool night air almost alive in his lungs.

“If I had to choose one thing,” A-Yao finally murmurs, in a voice very unlike his usual clear, almost over-enunciated tones, “it would be to kill him.”

Suddenly Lan Xichen knows that his having remembered A-Yao’s story the night before was no coincidence. He knows exactly whom A-Yao is talking about.

“I should have done it myself long ago,” continues A-Yao in that same low, uncharacteristically natural-sounding voice, “but his death would have raised too many questions back then, and after that I had too many things keeping me busy…I owe her this much. I should have long ago…”

“What’s his name?”

“Wu Shen. He’s a merchant in Yunping City.”

“Not…” Not Nie Huaisang?

A-Yao shakes his head. “I have been unfilial.”

“Then I’ll…I’ll go to Yunping.”

He hears A-Yao swallowing hard. Something brushes his hand, very briefly, and then A-Yao pulls away as if he can’t bear to touch the man who rammed a foot of ice-cold steel through his chest.

Lan Xichen doesn’t close his eyes the rest of the night. He lies very still, watching A-Yao sleep, memorizing every flutter of eyelash, every murmur, every twitch. A-Yao seems to be plagued by nightmares, but Lan Xichen doesn’t dare wake him.

“If I had to choose one thing, it would be to kill him.”

Lan Xichen thinks back to those idle days in the Cloud Recesses all those years ago. Lan Qiren’s interminable lectures, Wei Wuxian’s question about pacifying restless spirits: “But what if the wish was to kill many people in revenge?”

Deserving of death, is Wu Shen. As much as Chang Ping had been. And if Lan Xichen were to refuse now, then Chang Ping’s extrajudicial death, his torment, would have all been for nothing. Real or not, his pain had existed in some form.

Lan Xichen raises the hand A-Yao touched, stares at it in the moonlight, presses the spot A-Yao had brushed to this cheek. He has to do this. Prove he’ll do anything to bring A-Yao back fully.

Maybe then A-Yao would forgive Lan Xichen for killing him.

* * * *

The trip to Yunping City takes a week. Fourteen times Lan Xichen is forced to watch A-Yao suffer, fourteen times he’s forced to endure Xue Yang’s intense stare as it happens.

The sun is setting when they arrive in Yunping, bloody red streaks across a sky hung with thick gray clouds. A light early-season snow is beginning to fall as they check in at a reputable inn and hurry up to their room.

“Dinner first, I think,” says Xue Yang after A-Yao has appeared. “Can’t practice demonic cultivation on an empty stomach, now, can we?”

A-Yao gives his head a little shake. He hasn’t eaten anything since he’d been brought back.

“Zewu-jun? No? Suit yourself. Meet back here in an hour, and we’ll head out.” Humming, Xue Yang disappears down the stairs.

Without a word A-Yao follows him. Lan Xichen hurries after them. With every passing night A-Yao has become more and more detached from this world, not uttering a single sound on some nights. Lan Xichen sometimes thinks A-Yao’s skin has grown translucent, at least from certain angles, as if he has begun to fade as his connection to this world weakens.

Tonight will change that.

Lan Xichen wishes Xue Yang hadn’t insisted on eating. Every second, every minute is precious—

But he silently walks beside A-Yao, following him out of the inn all the way to Guanyin Temple. It’s no longer a temple, just a pile of rubble belonging to Jin Ling as A-Yao’s next of kin. He flies A-Yao over the wall into the courtyard, waits outside the temple as A-Yao disappears into the darkness.

Lan Xichen paces the courtyard as he waits. The last time he was here—

The last time he was here —

Don’t think about that. It doesn’t matter, not anymore—

The snow is falling faster now, thick eddies of white whirling around the courtyard, wet powder melting on his hair and robes, but he barely feels the cold.

Tonight—tonight—

There’s a smear of red on A-Yao’s face when he eventually emerges, as if a tear of blood had been clumsily wiped off. A-Yao notices him looking at, reaches up, scrubs the last of the blood from his face.

“I interred her,” Lan Xichen says, very quietly, “near the Cloud Recesses. With honor.”

A-Yao gives a brief nod. No need to tell him of the concessions he’d had to make to Nie Huaisang in order to get him to release A-Yao’s mother’s body.

There would be plenty of time after tonight.

They’re about to leave the temple courtyard when Xue Yang flies over the courtyard walls and lands in front of them, grinning.

“Figured you’d be here,” he says, dumping a man on the thin layer of snow blanketing the ground. A bound, mustached man with a face that it was a crime for him to inflict on the local populace without a license. Xue Yang has placed a Lan silencing spell on him, and the man’s face is bright red with anger as he struggles to tear his lips open.

Lan Xichen darts a glance at A-Yao. A-Yao’s eyes are wide, the rest of his face frozen.

Wu Shen.

“Let’s go inside,” Xue Yang suggests, shaking the snow from his skirts and hair. “Too many eyes out here.”

Lan Xichen glances around at the walls surrounding the courtyard.

Xue Yang sighs. “There are Lan cultivators flying around the area. I saw them on my way over. Besides, it's cold and wet."

They hurry inside the temple. The ceiling is half cratered, the entire place turned upside-down, but the damage isn’t as extensive as it could have been. Humming, Xue Yang moves around the temple, lighting the surviving candles with his Wen talismans.

There, right here, that was where Lan Xichen had stabbed A-Yao—his blood remains on the stone floor; shielded from rain and snow by fallen beams—

A-Yao’s breathing is shallow. Desperate for a distraction, Lan Xichen removes the silencing spell on Wu Shen.

“—sue you all! Unhand me at once! What is the meani—”

Lan Xichen replaces the silencing spell.

“ ‘Unhand me at once’?” Xue Yang snickers. “If you don’t kill him, I will.”

Lan Xichen glances back down at Wu Shen, who’s rolling quietly towards the front door.

Xue Yang places a foot on his shoulder and shoves him down to the floor. Jiangzai is out, slung casually across his shoulders.

“He’s all yours,” he says. He sighs at the look on Lan Xichen’s face. “Our dimpled friend can’t do it, or it would just create more resentful energy,” he explains, answering a question Lan Xichen didn’t realize he had. “You know about these things from your studies, don’t you, Lianfang-zun? Tell the man.”

A-Yao ducks his head in agreement, eyes still fixed on Wu Shen.

Xue Yang prods Wu Shen’s belly with the tip of his sword. Wu Shen gives a silent eep of indignation. Strangely, he seems more angry than scared. “Better hurry, Zewu-jun, before I give it a shot myself and nab all the credit. ‘Unhand me at once’—”

A-Yao looks up for the first time. “Er-ge?”

Shuoyue is quivering in Lan Xichen’s hand. He shoud let Xue Yang do it, he knows he should, but A-Yao had asked him, asked Lan Xichen—this is his one chance to prove himself to A-Yao, be the instrument of his salvation just as he had been the instrument of his destruction—

“Take my advice,” says Xue Yang, leaning on one of the surviving columns, “and get it over with quick. Don’t try to have fun with it this time. I mean, I did my first time, but—”

Lan Xichen plunges Shuoyue through Wu Shen’s heart.

A-Yao watches impassively, then spits on the man’s corpse, a vulgar gesture Lan Xichen would never have expected from him.

Lan Xichen releases Shuoyue’s hilt, leaving the sword stuck deep in Wu Shen’s chest. His hands are shaking, and he can’t take his eyes off the corpse.

He just murdered a man in cold blood, in almost the exact spot he had murdered A-Yao—

Two wrongs to make a right. A-Yao would be back now. A-Yao would have a second chance. Wipe away what had happened here a year ago—

A-Yao turns to Lan Xichen.

“I didn’t think you would actually do it,” he says, very softly. “Xichen, I…” He grips Lan Xichen’s sword hand. “Goodbye, Xichen,” he says. Lan Xichen feels a stinging spark where A-Yao is gripping his wrist. “Find m—”

He’s gone before he can finish, diffused light flowing outward to join the flickering candlelight, a thousand sparks of gold fading for the last time.

Gone. Gone, just like that.

For good this time.

Lan Xichen stares at the spot A-Yao had been standing, at the bleeding corpse at his feet, and drags his eyes up to look at Xue Yang.

Xue Yang glances up from where he’s using Wu Shen’s blood to draw an array on the floor.

He’s grinning.

“That went well,” he says.

“Did you know?” Lan Xichen grabs Xue Yang by the throat. “Did you know he’d disappear? You told me it was different for demonic cultivation; you told me it would bind him here—”

“Better question to ask is if he knew,” Xue Yang chokes out.

“If—if—”

Xue Yang pries Lan Xichen’s nerveless fingers from his throat. “It was a test. You failed it. Gave in right away, as I understand.”

“I—”

Xue Yang is laughing as he rubs the bruises forming on his throat. Lan Xichen has torn his Xiao Xingchen mask, but Xue Yang doesn’t seem to care. He peels it off and drops it to the floor, his disarmingly boyish face mottled with pink and white. “You were the better part of him,” he sneers. “Supposed to be the better part of him. Moonlight in the darkness and all that nonsense.”

“You—you lied to me!”

“I suppose all the beads were put in the looks bucket when you were made,” Xue Yang grins, “without a lot left over for brains.” He clicks his tongue. "What else did you expect from someone as repugnant as me?"

Lan Xichen falls to his knees, palms pressed to the spot A-Yao had been standing as if he can still feel his heat on the stone tiles. The room has faded, and the old weight is crushing his limbs again, keeping him pinned to the ground, barely able to breathe. Squeezing his lungs, threatening to crack his skull, a thousand times worse than it had ever been in the Cloud Recesses. There’s a dark red spot on his hand where A-Yao had been touching him—

“Aw, how nice,” Xue Yang clucks. “He marked you as his own. Can’t decide if it’s like a dog pissing on a tree or—no, I think I’ll go with ‘dog’ on this one.”

Lan Xichen stares at the red spot. Something is pricking at his half-melted brain—something familiar—but his blood is pumping too hard to think. He’s hot, so hot —

“To help find him in the afterlife,” explains Xue Yang. He bites his lip, hesitating, then shrugs. “Better not blow it again the next time, my friend.”

Lan Xichen is on his feet, swaying slightly. “Why did you do this?”

“About time you asked.” Xue Yang removes a folded sheet of paper from his qiankun sleeve. “You really should have asked more questions, my friend.”

The missing page from the book, the one that had supposedly been destroyed in a fire.

Lan Xichen grabs it.

“The ritual calls for the corruption of a soul of equal so-called purity in order to create a proper vessel for me to call the soul into before putting it back in his body,” Xue Yang explains as Lan Xichen stares at the paper, as if knowing Lan Xichen’s thoughts are too hot and flurried to be able to read, his vision blurred. “Not exactly easy to find a person like that in this fucked-up world. Not to mention access to the Lan library and Inquiry.” He shrugs. “You were the very obvious choice. Too bad you didn’t intentionally kill those Lan cultivators when we left the Cloud Recesses or those Nie guards, or I could have saved a lot of time.”

“Are you going to kill me?” Lan Xichen can barely hear his own voice over the blood roaring in his ears.

Twice. He’s killed A-Yao here, in this same temple, twice.

And A-Yao—

He has to find him. Has to explain. Has to be explained to. About why A-Yao would prefer death over life with him—

“Kill Zewu-jun?” Xue Yang twirls a strand of hair around his finger, eyes wide and innocent. He takes the pages back. “I can’t take you down on my own. But I figure they can, which is why I invited them. Right on time, too—”

With a squelching sound Lan Xichen draws Shuoyue from Wu Shen’s corpse and flies at Xue Yang. Laughing, the hooligan easily springs out the way, and Lan Xichen is about to pull out Liebing when he hears a familiar voice from behind him.

“Clan Leader!”

He whirls around. Six high-ranking Lan cultivators have dropped through the ceiling, swords in hand, snow gusting down around them. One has his guqin out and has begun to play the Song of Clarity—

Shuoyue arcs through the air, slicing the guqin in half.

And the cultivator.

Lan Xichen hadn’t meant to kill him but he, Lan Xichen, the top-ranked cultivator of his generation, is suddenly unable to govern his own spiritual energy.

But—

Is it really such a bad thing?

They’re trying to stop him from joining A-Yao. Stop him from killing the man responsible or A-Yao’s death. They're trying to bring him back to the Cloud Recesses—

Something echoes through the blood pounding in his ears.

“Too bad you didn’t intentionally kill those Lan cultivators when we left the Cloud Recesses—”

How many other Lan cultivators has he killed?

No. He couldn’t have killed them—

But he remembers the sound of the cultivator’s bones cracking against the stone as he fled the Cloud Recesses, and something bursts inside him.

A fistful of blood spatters out past his teeth, hot on his chin, speckling the floor with red.

A dozen more Lan cultivators have appeared, flickering around him, laughing, grinning, sneering. Despising him, ridiculing him for his desperation, his weakness, for his having fallen for Xue Yang's lies not once but twice—

Coming to take him home. Coming to lock him up again—

Something inside him snaps.

Blood burns his eyes, his vision half-obscured, but he hacks and slashes at the phantasms around him. There’s not a hint of his old elegance as he spins and whirls and lunges. He’s seized by Nie-like berserker rage as he rips them apart with Shuoyue—(they’re not real, anyway)—he knows they aren’t real—they’re just specters sent to haunt him, to taunt him, inventions of his overheated brain—

(Not that it matters, now. Nothing is real, nothing matters.)

The cultivators' bodies disappear. A dozen more men and women have appeared to take their places—

A face.

Wangji? No. Wangji couldn’t be here—nobody is here—

Sorrow on Wangji’s face— not Wangji’s face—not the real Wangji, anyway; if Wangji were truly here Lan Xichen wouldn’t stand a chance, not in his current condition—

A tear slips down Wangji’s face.

A hand on his shoulder, the first solid thing he’s felt other than Shuoyue’s hilt in—in how long—?

Where is he—

The temple. Still in the temple.

He scrubs the blood from his eyes, looks down. His blue robes are soaked with blood. Fresh blood dribbles from his eyes, his mouth, from the thousand ruptures in his flesh. Blood coats the snowy floor, taints the air, blossoms beautifully on the while robes of the six Lan corpses surrounding him.

Xue Yang looks down at him, watching him bleed out. Xiao Xingchen’s spirit-trapping pouch is in one hand, the Stygian Tiger Seal shard in the other.

For once there is no smile on Xue Yang’s face. “Shall I do it, my friend? The ritual will heal any damage to your body so that he will be whole when he returns—”

Lan Xichen stabs upward with Shuoyue.

Cursing, Xue Yang falls to his knees before the kneeling clan leader, blood spraying out past his teeth, eyes wide with shock. Lan Xichen must have struck an artery, because there’s a rapidly spreading pool of red around him, the hot crimson liquid surrounding the two of them.

Instead of using his spiritual energy to heal, Xue Yang instead begins to laugh, a laugh tinged with more than a touch of hysteria.

His knife is out.

Lan Xichen stares down at the mark A-Yao branded into his wrist, barely visible through the blood.

He looks up at Xue Yang again.

Waits.

“You’re welcome,” says Xue Yang, blood spurting over his chin, and he plunges his knife deep into Lan Xichen’s breast.

Lan Xichen hears a cry from the doorway, a familiar voice.

Or maybe he just imagines it.

The metal blade is cold as it pierces his skin, enters his muscle, scrapes bone. As cold as the mountain stream outside his mother’s house—

Lan Xichen wonders if the crane is still there.

He can almost see it now. Fluffing its wet feathers in greeting as Lan Xichen glides low over the Cloud Recesses—

The faint red light of an activated array comes from far away. Dimly-glowing symbols spin around him, as if someone is pouring the last of their life essence into the array as a soft new presence envelopes Lan Xichen—

The red light fades as he circles the mountain, flies higher into the crystal-clear sky. Frigid air is all around him, caressing his bare arms and legs, but he’s wrapped in warmth, in starlight.

A growing, glowing feeling, as if he’s bigger than himself, as if he’s become something more.

Something new.

He soars higher.

The Cloud Recesses looks so small from up here. So insignificant.

Like everything else.

He’s out among the stars now. Glowing, expanding, leaving a trail of green and purple stardust behind him.

Cosmic light envelopes him.

He melts into it.

* * * *

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed.   AO3

[horansqueen]

You & Me : chapter 33

A Niall Horan fanfiction ; rated MA

Sequel to AM CONVERSATIONS

CHAPTER 1 || CHAPTER 2 || CHAPTER 3 || CHAPTER 4 || CHAPTER 5 || CHAPTER 6 || CHAPTER 7 || CHAPTER 8 || CHAPTER 9 || CHAPTER 10 || CHAPTER 11 || CHAPTER 12 || CHAPTER 13 || CHAPTER 14 || CHAPTER 15 || CHAPTER 16 || CHAPTER 17 || CHAPTER 18 || CHAPTER 19 || CHAPTER 20 || CHAPTER 21 || CHAPTER 22 || CHAPTER 23 || CHAPTER 24 || CHAPTER 25 || CHAPTER 26 || CHAPTER 27 || CHAPTER 28 || CHAPTER 29 || CHAPTER 30 || CHAPTER 31 || CHAPTER 32

NOTES:

-one chapter is her pov, the next is his. -4.1k -im sorry, i never proofread, i hate it. -there WILL be smut. but not only smut. -this is a romance, comedy, smut story. -for the summary, check my MASTERLIST.

- notes: i actually enjoyed writing this. but i feel like i forgot something and i cant put my fingers on it.

if you want to be on the list of blogs i notify when this is updated, just message me :)

requests! : here they are! hope you like them! changed the second one a bit tho

Chapter 33 : His chapter

NIALL

March 29th, 2018

Ninteen days. Nineteen long days without her and I was back again in Dublin for a show before I could take a plane to her and spend over two weeks with her. If I wanted to be honest with myself, these past weeks had been horrible. I waited for her calls like a dependent and crazy boyfriend and it made me think that perhaps, it was how she felt when I spent so much time at a bar, back then. I could pretend I was not scared that the feelings she had for Dylan would somehow change and become stronger than the ones she had for me, but deep down, I knew It was a fear of mine. They say 'out of sight, out of mind', right?

I didn't know if I should worry or not because despite the fact that she has loved me for as long as she can remember, I was well aware that feelings change. After all, she hadn't broken up with Dylan for me, she had made that clear and I knew anyway, which meant that going back to him was always an option. I shook my head, a bit lost in my thoughts, as people around me were laughing and preparing the show. I didn't want to go out there and sing, I didn't want to be here. Not if she was somewhere else.

I did everything like a zombie, feeling a bit numb, and finally grabbed my guitar and putting a smile on my face. I jumped slightly when I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to see a blond head, making me smile more.

"You alright?"

I blinked a few times and just nodded before turning around but suddenly, I felt my heart jump in my chest.

"Jules?" i asked loud enough for her to hear me. "Where's Liv's note? I was sure I put it here."

Julia frowned and started looking around before shaking her head. "Are you sure you left it here?"

My heartbeats started accelerating. I knew I had to be on stage in less than two minutes and I had completely forgotten about the note. In fact, my mind had been blank for a few hours. Julia and I both started searching everywhere and I was literally starting to panic. I knew it was not that big of a deal if I missed opening her envelop one time, or even if I walked on stage 10 minutes late, but for some reason, it stressed me so much it made me want to puke.

I don't know how long it took but I saw Julia run back to me, her arm up in the air, holding a pink envelop, zigzagging to dodge people on her way to me. I sighed and felt the stress falter. She got in front of me and I snatched the envelop from her hands before pulling her into a tight hug.

"Thank you!"

She chuckled and pulled away before grabbing my phone and licking her lips. "Okay, open it, I'm filming you."

I chuckled and rolled my eyes, feeling suddenly a bit more relaxed. The show could wait and if I wanted to be honest, I was impatient to smell Olivia's perfume from the paper, to see her horrible handwriting and the little hearts she always draw everywhere. It was the boost I needed before going up there to spend two hours singing songs that reminded me of her. I needed it. It became more than an habit, I was fucking addicted.

Quickly, I teared the envelop and let it fall on the floor as the scent of honey and vanilla filled my nose. I glanced up at the camera and noticed how big Julia was smiling. I hadn't told her that Olivia and I were more than friend but she had heard the whole story and somehow, she had pushed me to go back to her. I never followed her advice because I knew Olivia was with Dylan but now that it was a secret, I felt bad for lying to her. I had told her about the letters Olivia gave me but hadn't mentioned that they were filled with dirty stuff and love words, and now that she was filming, it was going to be tough answering whatever Liv had written in that note.

"Hey petal." I said in a soft tone, looking at my phone. "Last letter of yours before I fly back there! Hope you're ready for pubs and movie nights because I fucking am!" I laughed and looked down to read the purple glitter words on the pale pink paper, my face changing more and more as my eyes scanned the letter.

'Niall James Horan, I love you. I want nothing but to be with you right now. And maybe I actually am. If you look carefully, you may see me.'

I frowned and looked up at Julia who chuckled a bit. "Turn the sheet."

I did it quickly and noticed she had written something else. 'Yes, dumbass. I'm here. I took a plane to you. Now go on stage. I'll hold you in my arms as soon as your show is over.'

Julia kept filming and moved closer to me, snatching the letter from my hand and pushing me toward the stage. I tried to resist, my eyes looking around to see where she was and Julia laughed more.

"Go, Niall! You'll see her soon!"

I frowned and turned to her, my eyes getting bigger.

"You knew?" I asked in a shocked tone, making her shrug. "Wait, where is she?"

"Stage!" Julia said with her soft light voice, trying to be firm. "Now!"

I kept looking around but finally walked on stage, starting with the first song. I knew the song by heart and didn't really have to think much. It was good since all my thoughts were taken by my best friend, wondering if she was really here and if yes, when would I be able to take her in my arms. I finished the song and when I turned around, my eyes caught someone on the side of the stage. No one in the crowd could see her but when our eyes met, her lips curled more. She hadn't changed at all. She tilted her head and pressed her lips together and even though I shouldn't have, I literally ran backstage, held my guitar to the first person I saw and wrapped my arms around her neck as she wrapped hers around my chest.

"Fuck, you’re really here." I whispered, leaning my cheek on her head before kissing her hair and holding her tighter.

She chuckled but I felt her shake in my arms as if she was sobbing and she squeezed me harder, rubbing her cheek on my shirt a few times before gripping it in my back. It took her a few minutes but she finally sniffed and tried to get out of my embrace.

"You need to go back." she pointed out in a low tone, but I still heard her voice break.

"Just a few more seconds." I replied, pulling her back in my arms.

It was torture to not be able to kiss her and tell her how much I loved her but I moved my head down, bringing my lips very close to her ear.

"I fucking missed you. I can't believe you're here." I whispered, feeling my bottom lip brush against her ear. "You're the best gift I ever had."

She chuckled and pushed me away gently again, wiping a tear on her cheek and moving her chin in my direction. "Go!"

I hesitated but finally got back on stage to sing a few more songs but when I started Flicker, I couldn't help but glance at Olivia over and over again. The memories of writing this song and of the falling we had at the end of our relationship started flooding me and I suddenly felt myself tear up. I had to stop near the end of the song and just walked off stage again, going back to her. This time, I didn't even take the time to put my guitar away, I just moved it in my back in a swift movement and gripped my best friend again, pulling her against me.

"I want to kiss you." I whispered as she nuzzled my neck, feeling tears fall down my cheeks despite myself.

"Me too, Niall."

"I love you okay?" I added quickly in a low tone, my eyes closed, trying to stop crying. "I love you and that song is so fucking tough to sing."

I heard her swallow hard and she brushed her nose on my neck. "I'm here now. I'm back. And I'm not leaving."

"I'm not leaving either. Never again."

                                                ----

We ended up backstage after the show and all grabbed a beer. Olivia was laughing with Julia a bit afar and I couldn't take my eyes off her. I wasn't even aware that these two actually talked to each other but watching them interact made me feel good for a reason I ignored. Perhaps, the fact that Olivia was ready to get to know more of my friends made this whole thing easier. Back then, she only really hung out with Louis or the people we hung out with before I was famous. She never really showed interest in meeting my other friends or hanging out with people I met as a singer and even if I understood she didn't feel at ease, it still made me sad.

They both turned to me and looked back at each other before laughing together and I suddenly got curious. I got up and walked to them, bending slightly between them and raising my eyebrows.

"You guys are talking about me?"

"Were we?" Julia asked with a frown, a big smile still gracing her lips and a dimple digging in her cheek.

"We were talking about how incredible Julia had been. She was so discreet you didn't see it coming." Olivia replied, turning to me and sending me a smile, too. "I think she's officially my favorite friend of yours, now."

I looked at Liv as she turned to Julia again and they both laughed some more. It was horrible that I couldn't just grab her and kiss her but I still moved my arm around her waist and I could have sworn her smile got bigger.

"Yea, well done." I admitted, shaking my head. "And now I have two free weeks and we can spend it here. What do you say?"

"I only have a few days, Nee, I'm sorry." she admitted, her facial expression turning into a guilty one. "But I can join you in France when you start your tour again? I asked that week to go see my parents."

My eyes roamed on her face and I felt something break inside me. It took me half a second to take a decision.

"I'll just go back to Cali with you." I let out in a low voice, moving a bit closer to her. "Maybe I can go to one of your filming days?"

Her lips curled and she glanced at Julia, making me suddenly remember that we were not alone. I turned to Julia too and saw her try to hide a smile by pressing her lips hard together. She turned around and walked away to go talk to someone else and I turned back to Liv, raising my nose up in a grimace.

"Oops, sorry." I whispered, holding my breath. "You think she knows?"

"If she's not completely stupid yea. I mean, the girl has two functioning eyes and two clearly great ears, if I trust the way she sings. So yea, she knows." Olivia pointed out with a chuckle.

"You're not mad?"

She tilted her head as she stared at me, her amused smile turning quickly into a fond one. I felt my palm burn on her back, over her shirt, and she sighed low.

"Niall, I think it's time you bring me back to your hotel room, what do you say?"

I didn't have a hotel room. In fact, I was ready to leave right after the show to catch my plane but now that plans had changed, I had to think about something, and there was no way I was going back to sleep at my parents'.

"I'll find one."

I quickly grabbed my phone in my pocket and called the hotel I stayed in the night before to reserve a room. I sighed in relief when I found out they weren't all taken and finally hung up and turned back to her.

"Done."

Her lips curled and she nodded and quickly, we said our goodbyes to everyone. No one insisted that we stayed or followed them to a bar and we just took a cab and left. She didn't kiss me until the hotel room's door closed behind us and I didn't try to force anything, but I couldn't pretend the whole ride was not painful.

Her mouth crashed on mine after she dropped her bags and I finally let mine fall too as she deepened the kiss. I could feel her smile against my lips and chuckled, bringing both my hands to her back and slipped them under her shirt.

"Watching the nudes you send while I jerk off every fooking night isn't enough." I admitted, trailing kisses quickly down her neck. "I want to bring you with me for the rest of the tour, I miss your body too much."

She giggled like a school girl and it made me smile more. "You want me to follow you everywhere so you can use me whenever you need a good fuck?"

"Yes, petal." I admitted in a whisper after letting out a groan. "How much would you like to be my little cum dump? How much do you want me to just grab your hair and fuck your fanny until I cum every fucking time I need it?"

"Mm, someone is in serious need of a good fuck." she pointed out, running her hand on my cock, over my pants. "You're being very nasty."

"You love it, don't even pretend otherwise."

She chuckled against my mouth and quickly worked on my pants. I unbuttoned hers and slipped my hand in her panties, making her head fall back slightly and her eyes flutter.

"You like that, princess?" I asked, brushing my lips on her jaw and neck. "I really need to fuck you hard and fast. You're so wet I'm sure you can cum fast, yeah?"

"Too horny for love making tonight, I see." she whispered with a smile, making me groan again.

"If you want me to make love to you petal, I will." I groaned low. "That shows how much I love you because I'm so fucking horny I don't really want to go slow."

She pulled away slightly and her eyes met mine. She tilted her head and stared at me for a few seconds before licking her lips.

"Fuck me hard and fast, then." she proposed. "We got all night anyway, yea?"

"Pet, if you allow me to fuck you 10 times tonight I fucking will."

She started laughing and I shut her up by pressing my lips against hers and immediately deepening the kiss. I loved the taste of her tongue and when she grabbed mine to suck on it, I slipped a finger inside her and started rubbing my thumb slowly on her clit. She moaned in my mouth and I felt her body tense, making me smile more.

"Apparently, I'm not the only one who needs a proper fuck."

It took us less than a minute to get naked and when I sat on the bed, she quickly straddled me and sat on my cock. I wrapped my arms around her as she let out a low whimper, closing her eyes. I grabbed her hair from behind and pulled on it, making her moan again as I brought my hand between us right after licking my thumb. I pressed it on her clit and she squirmed a bit, making me hold her hair tighter.

"It feels so fucking good to be balls deep inside you, pet."

I ran my tongue on one of her breasts and felt her nipple harden against it. I loved the way her body reacted to every single one of my touches. She squirmed a bit and I groaned as I felt her throb around my cock before grabbed her other breasts hard.

"Missed your tits so much." I slapped it gently and she squirmed again. "You're so fucking horny baby you're dripping on me."

"Please Niall." she let out in a mix of a whisper and a whimper. "Let me ride you."

I stared at how fucked she looked and finally let go of her hair. Her lips pressed against mine half a second later and she started moving over me slowly at first and then harder and faster. I didn't know how long I was going to last and I breathed through my teeth before she bit my bottom lip.

"You always do that when you're really horny don't you?" I asked with a smirk, pulling my upper body back to look at her.

She sent me puppy eyes, her chin moving down as she stared at me through her eyelashes. It made me want to own her even more and be rough with her.

"I do that because I really really want you."

I let my hand run on her back and when I reached her ass, I spanked her hard enough to make her tense. Her movements faltered and she moaned low, cupping my face and kissing me deeply again.

"I'm really really close, Nee." she murmured against my mouth. "I'm about to cum all over your cock."

I already knew that. I could feel her clench hard around my dick and I pulled away slightly again to look in her eyes. There was nothing I loved more than watching her squirm over me as she came.

"Do it. Show me how good of a little slut you are." I pressed my thumb on her clit and she started moving over me again, bouncing on my cock as I rubbed her clit hard.

It took her half a minute to start shaking and I felt her nails dig in one of my shoulders. The sight of her coming undone made me reach my orgasm too and I gripped her waist harder, my fingers sinking in her skin as I spilled inside her. We both were panting messes as we came down from our highs and she leaned her forehead on my shoulder, letting out a few satisfied whimpers.

"You're mine, yeah?"

"What part of me do you want?" she asked low, running her mouth on my neck and making me smile.

"Your heart, petal." I whispered, turning my head her way, searching for her lips. "You know it,"

"Mm, you're so full of shit." she whispered with a chuckle.

I grabbed her waist and threw her on the bed as she let out a high pitched scream and I quickly moved on top of her, holding myself with my arms on each side of her head.

"I ain't lying." I pointed out, raising my eyebrows as I looked at her.

"I thought you wanted my ass." she let out, half-joking with a smile.

I stared at her for a few seconds, my smile falling slowly and breathed in before sighing.

"I already have that." I explained. "I'm just hoping you can give me your heart at some point, too."

I felt her hand reach for my face and her fingers slipped in my hair. I didn't know how long we stared at each other but after a while, her lips parted.

"My heart has been yours since I was 6 years old, Niall James Horan."

For some reason, her words made a shiver cross my back and I quivered slightly over her. I glanced at her lips and slowly, I moved down and kissed her. I didn't know what I could answer to that so I just remained silent. She moved her knees up, trapping my body between them, and I knew we both felt safe in our happy bubble. It was my favorite place : with her.

"You think everyone knows we left to go fuck?" she asked, making me chuckle.

"I mean, they think we're just friends right?"

Olivia grimaced and I laughed more at how cute it was to see her button nose move up childishly.

"No one ever really thought we were friends, I mean, even your parents made a bet."

It was my turn to grimace. "Please, don't remind me."

"I'm glad I messaged Julia. I was a bit jealous of her before I started talking to her. I mean she spends all her time with you and I know you two are close."

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. I didn't think she could feel threatened by Julia.

"Says the girl who literally gets rides from her ex fiance after acting as his girlfriend all day!"

"Touché." she laughed. "But there's really nothing between Dylan and I anymore."

My eyes roamed on her face and I sighed. "I love you, Liv, but we both know that's not true." i just said, making her frown slightly. "Of course you still have feelings for him. I wouldn't expect you to just forget about it after a few weeks. And he probably loves you too. And I would lie if I said it doesn't stress me from time to time, especially late at night when I'm waiting for your call."

I thought about the song I had started writing which was once again, about her. It was once again about how much I loved her, but it was also about how painful it was not to know what we were and how she felt. It was about how easily she could hurt me and that if it was the only thing she was able to give me, that I wanted it anyway. It was about how I was all hers and that I was not sure she really was mine. I didn't want to sing it to her, because I didn't want her to feel guilty about the feelings inside me, but I had to write about it, if only to evacuate the pain from my body and mind. She didn't even know how hurt I was sometimes, it didn't even cross her mind, I knew it.

She sent me a fond smile and my heart melted again. I could have moved to lie down next to her but I didn't want to. I wanted our bodies pressed together. They had been away from each other for so long and it was insane how much my skin missed her skin.

"Nothing to worry about. I always think about you."

I smiled. "Nothing to worry about when it comes to Julia either. Or any other woman. Or men. Anyone. My mind, heart and soul are with you 24/7."

"And your body?" she asked with an amused smile.

"Right now it's with you, too. So you've got all of me."

We remained silent for a while, just looking at each other. I focused on the way her body felt beneath mine, and on how well it fitted with mine, like two pieces of a puzzle, and even if I knew it was cheesy, I knew we formed a complete puzzle, me and her. The more time I spent with her, the more I had hope that we would be together again. Officially and forever.

"What are we gonna do tomorrow?" she asked in a low voice.

"Go back to Mullingar and fuck. Pretend we're not famous. Meet with old friends. Go to a pub and fuck. Go see my mom. Fuck. Get a hotel room and fuck again."

She laughed, moving her chin up and closing her eyes, and it made me smile.

"Alright, but just to make sure, are we gonna fuck?" she asked jokingly, making me smirk.

"Yes."

She laughed again and I shut her up by pressing my lips against hers. I didn't want to think about being away from her again. I didn't want this distance thing to become something normal between us. There was no way I could ever get used to being far away from her for weeks. I also knew it was meant to happen again and it made something stir in my stomach but I tried to push the thought away.

"Good plan?" I asked, my lips brushing against hers as I talked before she nodded. "Perfect, Now let's fuck again."

[gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights]

Rating: G

Summary: Kagami and Nino plan a surprise party for Adrien's seventeenth birthday. With help from their friends, nothing can go wrong this time. Nino's even invited an extra special guest who's sure to make Adrien's night. (Nino & Kagami & Adrien friendship, with a side of Ladrien)

Word Count:  3101 | Chapter 1/3

Notes: written for @marinetteplztakeabreak through the @mlbforblm charity drive!  The donations go directly to Color of Change, an online organization for racial justice centered on the Black Lives Matter movement.  I highly recommend checking them out and reblogging/donating the mlbforblm posts if you’re able!  I have one fic slot left as of 7/23/2020, and many other talented writers and artists are offering incentives as well!  There’s even a giveaway going on; see the mlbforblm blog for more info!

XXX

“Hmm.”  Kagami’s brow furrowed as she stared at Nino’s Operation: Totally Swank Party binder.  The two of them sat on a bench in the park, where she had agreed to meet him after slipping away from her fencing lesson.  “Bribing the bodyguard is a proven technique.  Get me a list of action figures his collection is missing, and I’ll have them by tomorrow.”

“Way ahead of you, dude.”  Nino tore a piece of notebook paper out.  He’d done his research last night after a long phone call with Adrien.  “Glad I can count on you.”

“Of course.”  She neatly folded the paper and slipped it into her jacket pocket.  “I’ll have them shipped to your apartment.  Do you have a plan to dispose of his babysitter?”

Nino sighed and flipped to the page with a doodle of Nathalie with horns at the top.  It was a much more tentative outline than what he’d prepared to deal with the Gorilla.  Hopefully Kagami would be able to help him with that.

“Nathalie’s whole job is to suck out all the fun in my bro’s life.  We’ll never be able to throw this party with her in the picture.”

He’d tried the past three years.  From Hawkmoth transforming him into the Bubbler, to Nathalie locking him in a closet, to Gabe himself nearly arresting him for trespassing, each had been a total bust.  At this point Adrien probably wasn’t expecting Nino to try.

But Adrien was his best bro.  Nino would never give up on throwing him the most poppin’ party ever.  

Plus, this year, he had a secret weapon.  One that even Kagami didn’t know about.

“You seem quite prepared.”  Kagami squinted at the page.  “You’re sure Max can play his part?  The Agrestes use my mother’s security technology.”

“Positive.  He and Markov can hack anything.”  

Max had already wired into the speaker system last time they threw a party for Adrien.  Of course, on Adrien’s birthday, the mansion would be too obvious a target.  That’s why the plan just required getting his bro out of the house altogether.

“I’ll trust you, then.  What exactly is my role?”

Nino grinned, placing a hand on her shoulder.  “You, my good bro, will be sneaking Adrien away from his fake fencing lessons.  Adrien says you’ve done it a thousand times, and his pops still barely knows who you are.  You’ve got like, some kind of invisibility superpower.”

“I simply have practice.  That’s all.”  She took his pen and began making notes in his binder.  “Nathalie will realize we’re gone approximately forty-five minutes after we leave.  The Gorilla has set patrol routes for finding Adrien when he goes missing, which I can map out for you.”

“If he takes the bribes, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Kagami was already sketching out a map of the city on a clean sheet of paper.  Geez, how did she remember all that?  He doubted he could even draw the path from his apartment to Alya’s.

“I don’t want to take any chances.  We cannot fail Adrien.  Do you have a venue reserved already?”

“Huh?”  Nino scratched under his hat.  Kagami was pretty rad, but it was hard to follow her train of thought sometimes.  “Oh, right! I was thinking the hotel.  Now that Chloé’s not a total jerk—”

“No.  Too obvious.  Nathalie will find us within the hour.”  Kagami frowned and tapped the pen against the back of her hand.  “The ice rink will be our best option.  It’s out of his bodyguard’s patrol zone, and it can accommodate all of Adrien’s friends.  We hid there all the time when we were dating, and no one ever found us.”

“Sure, sure, there’s just one problem.”  He grinned nervously and tapped his fingers together.  “I, uh, don’t know how to skate.”

Kagami tilted her head and.  “Really?  No matter.  His birthday is twenty-one days away.  You have plenty of time to learn.”

Over her shoulder, he watched her write “Teach Nino to ice skate” in her crisp print.

“Uhh… well, I guess that works.”  Hopefully everyone else knew how to skate already, or they could just enjoy the food and cake from the seats surrounding the rink. Nino could technically do that too, but he didn’t want to miss hanging out on the ice with his best bro.

“I’ve seen you parkour with Alya.  You seem like you’ll learn quickly.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”  Nino chuckled.  “Just get ready to watch me starfish out there.”

Her lips pursed thoughtfully.  “If it proves too difficult for you, I can try to find a backup location.  I doubt one exists that will fit everyone you’ve listed, though.”  She flipped back to the guest list, which included all of their classmates from the last few years, Adrien’s whole fencing team, and a few other friends like Luka and XY.  Pretty much everyone Adrien had ever interacted with was on the list.

Except for one special guest, but Nino had left her out on purpose.

“No, no, it’ll be fine!  I’m just joking, dude.”

“Oh.”  Her face pinked a bit.  “How are we going to deliver the invitations without alerting Nathalie or Adrien’s father?

“I’ve started planning that too.”  Nino flipped forward a few pages.  “The most important guests—ones who aren’t gonna snitch on us—will get their invites a week in advance.  The rest will get theirs by text on the day of.  If they can’t come, they can’t come.”  It was the best solution he’d been able to come up with.  He was sure that even if people did have plans, most would drop them for a chance to party with Adrien Agreste.

“Hmm.  It still feels too obvious.  The fencing team in particular may give us up.”  She frowned before scratching a few names off the list.  Well, she was on the team herself; she would know better than anyone who could be trusted.  “You’re right though.  This does seem like the best plan.”

Nino grinned.  One nice thing about Kagami was that when she gave a compliment, he knew it was sincere.  If she agreed with his birthday plan, then it was as close to foolproof as it could be.

“Sweet.  I think that covers everything for now.”

“A very productive planning session.”  Kagami nodded before holding out her fist.

Nino laughed and bumped knuckles with her.  After a year of hanging out with him and his bro, Kagami was finally getting the hang of fist bumps.

“Meet me at the ice rink at eighteen hundred on Saturday.  We’ll begin your lessons then.”

She closed the binder and handed it back to him, then stood and walked away.

“Skating lessons with Kagami, huh…” 

This was either going to be a legit time, or he was going to make a total idiot of himself.

XXX

“Come on, Nino, you’ve got this!”  Alya called encouragement as she and Marinette lapped him again.  He frowned at their backs.  How was it that even Marinette, certified clumsiest girl in Paris, could be a better skater than him?

“Focus, Nino.”  Kagami snapped her fingers.  She stayed near him, slowing her pace even though she could’ve skated rings around him.  “Your girlfriend’s praise will only become reality if you practice proper technique.  Keep your weight centered.”

“Right, right.”  He pushed off from the handrail and tried not to flap his arms.  This time, he made it a solid twenty seconds before he slipped and went skidding across the ice.  His hat slid off in the opposite direction, but Kagami quickly retrieved it.

“Don’t try to go so fast.  Catching up to Marinette and Alya isn’t your goal.”  Kagami’s advice was blunt, but helpful.  Nino didn’t mind her getting to the point.  He knew his skating needed work, and no matter how many times he fell, she didn’t lose patience with him.

It was nice that Alya was so far ahead, honestly.  It meant she didn’t see him look like a total dorkasaurus every time he fell.

I’m doing this for Adrien, he reminded himself each time.  He didn’t need to be a pro skater.  He just needed to be able to stay upright.

“You make it look so easy.”  He frowned as Kagami glided backwards.

“I’ve been skating since I was six.  It makes a relaxing hobby.”

He snorted.  “How is anything about this relaxing?”

“Hmm.  Perhaps you’re thinking too hard.  It makes you hesitate, place your weight incorrectly.  You’re a musician, aren’t you?”

“Huh?  Yeah, you know I’m DJ-ing for the party.” He had no clue why Kagami was asking, though.

“Skating has a rhythm.  Maybe you’ll feel more comfortable timing your strides with music.”

He tapped his chin.  “Y’know… that’s not a half bad idea.”

“Not half bad?  Does that mean only half is good?”

“No, no, the whole idea’s good!  It’s just an expression.”

He slipped his headphones over his ears and picked one of the slowest songs on his playlist.  It was a waltz in ¾ time; hopefully that wouldn’t trip him up.

“Alright, here goes.”

He took a deep breath and pushed off from the wall.

One-two-three, one-two-three.  The music was smooth as the ice under his skates.  Kagami kept pace with him, smiling as he counted the beats under his breath.

Something about it did feel different.  Maybe it was that he stopped overthinking; maybe it was just the magic of music.  Either way, he went the whole six-minute song without falling on his butt.

“Not half bad.”  Kagami smiled.  “...Did I use that right?”

“Heck yeah, dude.”  They fistbumped.

“Way to go Nino!”  Marinette gave him a high five as she and Alya caught up.

“Thanks for teaching my boyfriend, Kagami.  I owe you one.”

“You owe me nothing, Alya.”  Kagami’s cheeks turned red.  “We’re all working together to ensure Adrien’s birthday is perfect.  Teaching Nino is just one step in that plan.”

“Well, I still think it’s really cool of you.  Oh!  And speaking of the party, my mom says she can cater.  I’ve already sworn her to secrecy.”

“Awesome!  What about you, Marinette?” Nino took his headphones off to better hear the conversation, but his legs still knew what to do.  “Are you gonna get Adrien a totally rad birthday cake or what?”

“Yeah, absolutely!”  She nodded.  “I’ll just have to drop it off before the party.”

“You’re still sure you can't come, girl?”  Alya asked her.

“No, sorry.  I promise I would if I could, but I—I’ve already made a commitment.  But I’ll have the cake here on time, I swear!”

“And one of his fifty birthday presents, right?”  She nudged Marinette with her elbow.  Marinette nearly fell, but Nino wasn’t sure if that was from Alya’s bump or her words.

“I—I don’t have those anymore!”  Her shoulders slumped.  “It turns out, planning presents fifty years in advance works a lot better if you can see the future.  They’re all out of style by now.”

Alya laughed at that.  Nino couldn’t help noticing that Kagami had gone silent, though, her gaze locked on the ice in front of them.

“Something wrong, bro?”  He asked her.

She shook her head.  “Adrien’s party won’t be perfect if Marinette isn’t present.  I thought she of all people would understand how much she means to him.”

Marinette gasped.  “I… I’m sorry, Kagami.  Adrien does mean the world to me, and… I promise, I’ll make it up to him.”

Nino was forced to stop as Kagami grabbed the handrail and locked eyes with Marinette.  Some kind of silent conversation seemed to pass between them.  He looked to Alya for help, but she just shrugged.  By now he thought he’d understand the girls, but maybe some things would always be a mystery.

“See that you do.  He deserves that much.”

This wasn’t some kind of love triangle over Adrien again, was it?  Kagami had stayed good friends with all of them after she and Adrien broke up.  Marinette was probably still crazy in love with him, but that was nothing new.

“It’s okay, dudes.  The party’s still going to be perfect.  I’ve got a special surprise planned for our favorite bro.”

He winked at Alya, who grinned back.  She’d been the one to help him pull it off.

“A surprise?”  Marinette clapped her hands together at the same time Kagami raised an eyebrow.

“I didn’t factor any surprises into our plans.  Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“It’s not much of a surprise if everyone knows, is it?”  Nino said.  “But you’re right, I should have told you, Kagami.  I just wasn’t sure if it would be awkward for you, knowing who Adrien’s crushing on now and all…”

“It’s not an issue.  Adrien is a wonderful friend.  That is more than enough for me,” Kagami replied.

“Adrien’s... crushing on someone?”  Marinette asked, her eyes wide.  

Oops.  Kagami might have taken it well, but Nino should’ve waited until Marinette was gone.

“What’s the scoop, babe?”  Alya raised her eyebrow, and Nino threw his hands in the air.

“I thought you already knew!  Why do you think we worked so hard to get Ladybug to show up for his party?”

Marinette caught hold of the hand rail before her legs slipped out from under her.

“Adrien has a crush on Ladybug?”

“Oh.  That’s all?”  Kagami asked.  “I’ve known that for months.”

“You have?”  

“Was it supposed to be a secret?  He keeps posters of her in his fencing locker.”

Marinette still looked like she was blue screening.  Alya glared at Nino, and he gave a nervous smile.  What was he supposed to do?  Kagami had a point; the dude wasn’t exactly subtle.  

“Anyway.”  He coughed.  “Our bro likes Ladybug, and she’s coming to his party, so he’s going to have a totally cash money time.”

“Cash money?  You’ve been hanging out with Luka and XY too much, babe.”

Marinette giggled at that.  She got her feet back under her, and they started skating in unison again.  So… she wasn’t that upset?  Whew.

“Oh, speaking of XY, I gotta get him here to help set up the special effects,” Nino said.  “I already got permission from Phillipe.  We’re going all out, courtesy of the actual cash money Kitty Section and XY’s last collab made.”

“How did we end up friends with so many rich people?”  Alya mused under her breath.

“It sounds like the plan is in motion, then,” Kagami said.

“Yeah, it’s going to be perfect!  Adrien will love it.”  Marinette grinned.  “Thank you two for putting all this together.”

“Anything for my best bro.”  Nino shot her finger guns.

“He deserves a party worthy of his friendship,” Kagami added.

And he was going to get one.  This year, of all years, Nino refused to let anything go wrong.

XXX

Three weeks later, on the night of September twenty-first, Nino paced the blue chairs surrounding the perimeter of the ice rink.  His friends wove between the chairs, setting up tables of food and games.  His turntables were already in place at the head of the rink, and XY was hooking them up to the speaker system.

“Nathalie’s schedule?”  Nino asked as he passed Max.

“Hacked and adjusted.”  Max flashed a thumbs up.  

“Great job, dude.”  He clapped him on the shoulder before moving on to Rose and Juleka’s station.

“Presents?”

“Stacked and organized!”  Rose saluted.

“Sweet.  Make sure to leave some extra space, there’ll be more where those came from.”  He continued his path to where Chloé was lounging in a chair and scrolling through her phone.

“Chloé, status report.”

“No trace of Adrikins on Instagram, Twitter, Tumblr, or YouTube.”  She flipped her ponytail.  “You should check your tone, though.  I’m not some peon you can just order around.”

“Right.”  He rolled his eyes.  Classic Chloé.  At least she was taking her job seriously, though.  “Thanks for all your hard work.”

“You’re welcome.”  She smirked.

Her job was one of the most important.  If the media caught wind of Adrien’s location, the party would have to split before he even got here.  To prevent that, Max had jammed the wifi and cell service so that only his computer, Chloé’s phone, and Nino’s phone had wifi.  If anyone wanted to post about the party on social media, they’d have to wait until after it was over.

Everything was looking perfect.  There wasn’t much else to do but wait for updates from Kagami.

19:00.  Arrived at the court.  No sign of Adrien.

19:04. Adrien has arrived.  Bodyguard bribed and driving away.

19:05. En route to ice rink.  Adrien was suspicious, but believed my excuse of buying him birthday orange juice.

Nino shook his head with a smile.  How did Kagami type all that without Adrien noticing?  At least everything seemed to going smoothly on her end, too.

He started pacing again.  According to Kagami, a casual stroll from the school to the ice rink took twenty minutes.  It was longer than Nino wanted to wait, but the location had to be far enough away to avoid notice.

His phone beeped again.  He unlocked it to see a selfie of Kagami and Adrien smiling wide, though Adrien was practically unrecognizable in the oversized hoodie and bright blue wig Kagami had borrowed from Juleka.

Alya’s chin rested on Nino’s shoulder.  “Aww, look at them.  All grown up and ready to rebel.”

“Psh, Kagami’s been rebelling for ages.  Adrien could still learn a thing or two from her.”

“Oh look, she sent another one!”  Alya clicked his phone.

In this photo, the two of them were pulling funny faces.  Adrien stuck out his tongue, while Kagami puffed out her cheeks and gave him bunny ears.

Nino laughed and put an arm around his girlfriend.  “We did a great job with them, didn’t we?”

“Absolutely.”  She smiled before zooming in on the background.  “Looks like they’re in front of the parking lot.  They’ll be here any time now.”

Sure enough, Kagami texted, 19:25. Two minutes away.

“Right!”  Nino gave her cheek a quick kiss before running to his turntables.  He snatched up the microphone, and his voice blasted through the speakers.  “Alright, dudes!  Adrien’s about to walk through those doors, so everyone hide!”

Their friends dove behind tables and chairs.  All of them except XY, anyway.

“What’s the point, dude?  He’s gonna see all our sick lights.”  XY pointed to the laser lights next to the turntable.

“That’s why we switch them off,” Luka said, pressing the button.  The rink fell into darkness.

“Ohhhh.”

Nino pulled the two of them under the table with him just before the double doors opened.

[writingmyselfout]

Because I Could Not Stop for Death - Chapter Five

Language: English

Rating: Teen+

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter

Tags: AU - Canon Divergence, Reptilia28′s Don’t Fear the Reaper Challenge, Manipulative Dumbledore, Black Hermione Granger, Slight Ron Weasley Bashing

Prologue 1 2 3 4

Chapter 5: This Is My Now

Summary: Sorting Ceremony

THE ride to the castle is not as eventful as Draco predicted, despite the slight delay caused when Ron Weasley loudly complains that Draco took his spot and Hagrid, realizing that all other boats already have four students, redirects him to be the fifth in the next boat over. Harry is too busy admiring the sight of the giant castle before them, with what looks like every visible window lit up against the night sky, to pay Weasley much mind. He understands now what someone means when they say something is breathtaking, because he’s sure he stopped breathing for a moment when he first saw it, and isn’t sure he’s quite managed to catch his breath as the boats take off across the lake.  

   He’s not the only one fascinated. There is silence except for the sound of water lapping against the magically propelled boats as their journey starts, with whispers only starting up when they’re about halfway across. Their boat is in the lead, but the fleet of boats--which Hagrid informs them is nineteen out of the school’s total of thirty-six--are close enough that the voices of one carry over to the occupants of those closest. Granted, Harry thinks, it’s possible that it only seems that way because Ron Weasley, in the boat just behind theirs on the left, is loudly complaining about Draco Malfoy having shoved him out of the way when he was going to sit with Harry Potter. A blatant lie that Draco scoffs at, but doesn’t deem to try to refute from this distance.

    When they disembark on the other side of the lake, they are on a landing stage slightly sheltered by rock formations. Hagrid looks them over, making Draco smile at Harry knowingly when he picks Neville’s frog up from their boat and hands the animal back to him, reminding him to hold onto it this time. Then, when he’s sure that no student has been lost, he leads them up some stone steps. Harry thinks this must have been a cave at some point, rocky walls closing in slightly on either side with lanterns alternating from one side to the other to light their way, and he thinks it’s a good thing he’s not claustrophobic as the shadows they cast on the ceiling make it almost look like it’s moving down closer to them.

    At the top of the stairs is a stone landing, similar to the one below they’d stood on after getting out of the boats, but the bright lanterns on either side of the door make the design on it clearly visible. The stones are gray, with a darker one used to create a capital letter H. The door before them, a large, sturdy-looking wooden door with metal bands across it and a small little hatch in the door. When Hagrid pounds his fist heavily against the wood, Harry expects it to open and a face to peer out, but instead the door opens completely, light flooding out from inside, and standing there is none other than the dark-haired witch, Professor McGonagall, in emerald green robes.

    “Evenin’, Professor,” Hagrid greets. “Got yer first years here, all seventy-seven of ‘em.”

    “Thank you, Hagrid. Come along then.”

    They shuffle in after her and find themselves now in a brightly lit room. There’s a large rug covering most of the stone floor, and directly across the door they come in through is a large fireplace, with an equally large fire lit and blazing within. It makes the room pleasantly warm after the cool air they were just in. There are two long tapestries on either side of the fireplace, totaling four, each of them in different colors and with an animal displayed prominently in its center around a letter. To the left are some benches along the way, and some portraits of landscapes above them. To the right is a door, which is where McGonagall walks to as she waits for them to all come into the room.

    Harry goes over in her direction after a brief glance around the room. “Hello, Professor,” he greets, a little shy. He’s never really been close to a teacher before, but while he doesn’t want his new classmates to think he’s a teacher’s pet, he rather likes the woman who helped ensure he could attend school.

    “Mr. Potter.” She addresses him formally, but she gives him a small smile, which negates her stern tone and her previously stern demeanor. “I see you made it onto the train all right.”

    Harry nods, and almost goes on to tell her about being moved into the smallest bedroom upstairs, but Hagrid closes the door then, signaling that all the students are inside. The big man makes his way around the students and out of the room through the door they are near, and Harry realizes this conversation will have to wait as the older witch clears her throat to draw the attention of all the students. Once all eyes are on her, she speaks.

    “Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” she begins. “The term officially begins with a start-of-term banquet attended by the entire school, which you will be joining shortly over in the Great Hall. Before you can take your seats, however, you will be sorted into one of the four Hogwarts houses.” She gestures over towards the tapestries hanging on the wall by the fireplace.

    The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each has its own noble history and has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are students here, your house will be like your family within Hogwarts. You will sleep in your house dormitory, study and spend free time in your house common room, and most, if not all, of your classes will be with the rest of your housemates. You will also work together with your house to earn points for your house. Your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose your house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to your house, whichever it may be.

    “Now, the Sorting Ceremony will take place in front of the whole school, so I suggest you all smarten yourselves up while you wait.” She runs a critical eye over them, pausing here and there on specific students. “Now wait quietly while I check to see if they are ready yet.”

    Without another word, she leaves through the same door Hagrid left, and voices erupt in her wake. Students asking each other what house they think they’ll join, and what the Sorting might entail.

    “Harry.” He turns to see Draco just off to the side with a group that seems to already know each other, waving him over. Harry goes over to the group, which consists of two girls and three boys besides Draco, assuming that these are the friends he previously mentioned. Sure enough, once he’s reached them, Draco says, “These are the friends I mentioned earlier. Theodore Nott, Vincent Crabb, Gregory Goyle, Pansy Parkinson, and Millicent Bulstrode. Guys, this is Harry Potter.”

    Others nearby hear the name and there’s a ripple effect through the room as it’s whispered back and forth. Harry tries to ignore it as he greets Draco’s friends. “Hi, nice to meet you.”

    Theodore Nott replies in kind, but he’s the only one. Pansy Parkinson leans into Millicent, saying in a loud whisper, “ The Harry Potter, huh? Somehow not as impressive as the stories would have us believe.”

    Harry feels his face grow warm while Draco scowls at her, but before either can respond, there’s a collection of gasps and a few screams. Looking around, they see what has startled some of the others, as a group of almost two dozen ghosts have come streaming through one wall. They’re just far enough that Harry can’t make out any conversations until a ghost in tights and ruff notices the students below them and asks what they’re all doing.

    “New students!” The answer comes from the ghost the first had been speaking with, a pleasant looking, chubby man dressed in a long corded tunic robe of some sort. Harry isn’t sure what it’s called, but he’s certain the man is a friar of some sort. “I believe they’re waiting to be Sorted, yes?”

    Various students nod. Harry looks over at Draco, and he hopes this isn’t a stupid question because it didn’t occur to him until now, but he wants to ask before McGonagall comes back. “How are they going to sort us?”

    “Honestly? Don’t know,” Draco admits with a shrug. “Mother and Father wouldn’t say. It’s tradition to go in not knowing.”

    “My brother Fred said it hurts.” They turn to see Ron Weasley, who’s clearly been eavesdropping.

    “H-Hurts?” Neville Longbottom, using one hand to try to fix his robe which is fastened under one ear, stares at Ron wide-eyed. His grip on his toad goes slack and he almost loses it before Hermione Granger nudges him.

    “I doubt it,” she responds once Nevile has regained hold on the toad. “It is a school, after all. They aren’t going to let us get hurt .”

    “Okay, Miss Know-It-All, what do you think it is?” Ron grumbles at her, glaring. “Since you know more than me.”

    She frowns at him. “I am just saying, it is highly unlikely that a school is going to purposely allow students to get hurt for, what, dorm assignments?” Neville next to her visibly relaxes, and there are a few murmurs of agreement. Ron’s face goes a little pink. “Now it doesn’t say in Hogwarts, A History what the Sorting entails, but I imagine it’s more likely a test of some sort.”

    “Oh, ‘it doesn’t say in Hogwarts, A History ’,” he mocks, pitching his voice higher and causing a few kids to snicker. “That’s not even one of our textbooks. What kind of nerd does extra reading before school?”

    Her darker skin doesn’t visibly change colors, but the way Hermione presses her lips together and crosses her arms reads to Harry clear as day as if she’s embarrassed. She doesn’t respond though, and Harry is annoyed with Ron Weasley all over again. He thinks of all the times he was bullied by Dudley in front of other students just before teachers came back, or in front of his aunt and uncle, leaving Harry unable to defend himself or talk back, and he decides he’s not putting up with it here. Even if the bullying isn’t directed at himself.

    “Just because you can’t read doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t enjoy it.” Both Hermione and Ron look over at him in surprise, though Ron’s face turns a shade of red that almost matches his hair.

    Then, to avoid getting caught in a confrontation on the first day by Professor McGonagall and because Neville was struggling one handed to fix his robe before he froze to watch the back and forth between Hermione and Ron, he goes over to him. “Want me to hold Trevor while you fix your robe?”

    “Oh, yes, please. Thank you.”

    Neville hands the toad over and adjusts his robes, just in time for McGonagall to return. She calls for them to get in a line and follow her, turning to lead them out. Hermione hurries to do as she’s told, very clearly trying to put distance between herself and Ron Weasley. Neville takes his toad back with another muttered thank you, hurrying to get in line as well. Harry follows suit so that Neville is in front of him, with Draco at his rear. They’re led across the large Entrance Hall, so big that he’s certain the entirety of the Dursleys’ house could fit in there, and the ceiling so far above that he can’t make it out despite the many flaming torches lighting up the room. They pass massive double doors to their right and a grand marble staircase to the left, towards another set of double doors.

    There’s the dull roar of hundreds of voices on the other side of those doors, which grows steadily louder as they approach, and Harry swallows nervously as his mouth suddenly goes dry. What if it is a test? He read through the books, but it’s not as if he could practice any of the spells, and he’s never been good at instantly memorizing stuff. He’s always been a hand on learner, needing to put whatever was being taught to him into practice to really grasp it. How embarrassing if he fails out of the school before he’s even started?

    The doors are thrown open and the voices die down to a silence as all eyes turn to look at the line of students being led inside. They walk between the center two out of four long tables, that start a few feet from the entrance and down across the large room almost towards the other end, from what Harry can see. He tries to not make eye contact with the students on either side of him, so instead he draws his attention up to the floating candles and the night sky above, half listening as Hermione explains to Neville that she’d read it’s enchanted to look like the sky outside. He thinks maybe he read that, but isn’t sure, and is tempted to ask how many times she’d read her books or if, unlike him, she has the kind of memory that allows her to read something once and just remember it.

    “What is that ?”

    Draco’s question makes Harry look down, and he sees that they’re approaching a platform that is shaped in a half circle. There’s a single step to get up onto the platform, and then there’s a stool set in the center, with a battered looking witches’ hat. Behind that is another two steps leading up onto a slightly higher platform where a table runs from Harry’s left to his right. There, a long line of adults are seated, and he realizes these must be the school’s teachers and staff. Before he can find Professor Snape to wave, he finds a pair of twinkling blue eyes staring at him, and he recognizes the face from his Chocolate Frog Cards. The headmaster is literally watching him.

    Unintendedly, he stops in the spot as he’s overwhelmed with the most powerful feeling of mistrust he’s ever felt, and a voice seems to scream in his mind, Do not trust Albus Dumbledore!

    Then Draco walks into him, not having noticed what he’d stopped, and they almost fall over. Harry quickly apologizes, face red, and hurries forward as McGonagall directs them all to line up between the professors’ table and the stool so they’re facing the rest of the school. Once they’re all lined up, they stand there for a moment, nothing happening until the hat suddenly begins to sing.

    Harry’s eyes go wide and he is able to momentarily forget the headmaster behind him, astonished at this turn of events. Getting Sorted by a magic hat is better than anything else he’d imagined, and he’s immensely relieved. He claps along with everyone else when it finishes, and then listens as the first couple of names are called and students begin being sorted into the different houses. It isn’t until after each house has received one student that Harry remembers that he and Draco might not be in the same houses.

    “Draco,” he whispers, turning to the other boy. Draco looks over at where McGonagall is standing, holding a long roll of parchment from which she is reading students’ names, and then back at Harry, a single eyebrow raised in question. “Remember, if we’re in different houses, we’ll still be friends, right?”

    Draco blinks at him surprised. Hadn’t Harry asked him that right after they met, when they were first discussing the houses? Draco still isn’t convinced that it’s possible for them to stay friends, but he figures it won’t hurt for them to try at least. So he nods. “Sure, but don’t be mad when my house gets more points than yours.”

    Harry just grins in response, looking back at the students being sorted in time to see Hermione Granger is still sitting on the stool. He wonders if it’s normal for it to take this longer before she finally gets sorted into Gryffindor. His parents’ house. It would be nice, he thinks for what must be the hundredth time, to be in the house they were in, and get to see some of the places they once spent time in. There probably weren’t any traces of them or anything, but it’d be one more thing he would have in common with them. Plus, he would already know his Head of House with Professor McGonagall, whom he already knew he could trust. The only other professor he felt that way about right now was Professor Snape. Granted, if he ended up in Snape’s house, Slytherin, that might not be so bad either. Draco was sure he’d be in that house, so at least he’d have a friend there.

    Neville Longbottom also ends up in Gryffindor house after slightly longer with the hat than most other students, and he grins happily as he goes to join them. When it is Draco’s turn, the hat is set on his head and there is a few seconds of silence before he is, as he’d predicted, announced as the next Slytherin. Harry is happy for him, knowing that is the house Draco wanted, though it’s tinged with a bit of disappointment that he wasn’t last minute put in Gryffindor, like he himself hopes to be. Then he waits for his own turn to come. He tries to ignore the irrational fear that he won’t be Sorted at all, thinking it is just his nerves, but it isn’t easy. He still thinks it’s been too many good things after another, so surely the other shoe will drop soon.

    When Professor McGonagall finally calls, “Harry Potter,” the room is overtaken by a deafening silence. He’s actually tempted to stick a finger in his ear to see if something is suddenly blocking all sound, because it’s such a drastic change. Instead, he takes a few slow steps forward, hoping he doesn’t do something embarrassing like fall flat on his face as he’s acutely aware of every eye in the room being directed in his direction.

    He’s actually a little relieved to finally reach the stool and have the hat placed on his head, as it falls down and covers his eyes so he can no longer see all those faces staring at him.

    Well, well, what do we have here? Harry startles, although after the singing, he’s not sure why the hat speaking comes as a surprise. Strange…

    Suddenly, Harry’s certain the hat is going to tell him he doesn’t belong, and he feels his heart drop. Great , he thinks. I really don’t belong here.

    Oh, but you do , the hat contradicts, surprising Harry again because of course it can read his mind. Plenty of talent here, good head on your shoulders, and quite a bit of courage, with such a thirst to prove yourself. Yes, no question, you belong here.

    Then what is strange? Harry asks, curious now that the hat has assuaged his fears.

    The hat is quiet for a moment, as if it’s searching or perhaps deciding how to explain. Then, it says, There is magic here unlike any I have seen in all my time, and I’m quite old. Yes, strange, varying magics are at work in you. How very intriguing you are, Mr. Potter. Harry wants to ask more, try to understand what the hat is telling him, but the hat moves on, asking, So where shall I put you?

    Harry frowns in response, wondering that question himself. He has no real feelings towards being put in Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. Based on the hat’s song, he thinks he’s loyal enough for the former and maybe not smart enough for the latter, but he’s indifferent to either. He hasn’t met anyone interested in either, or made friends among those already sorted into it yet, so it’s hard to muster any enthusiasm besides it meaning he will remain at Hogwarts so long as he’s sorted somewhere . Gryffindor, though, has most of the few people he’s met and liked thus far, besides his emotional connection to it. But Draco is now in Slytherin.

    So Gryffindor or Slytherin, eh? Any of the Hogwarts houses could help you on your way to greatness, I’m sure, but these two especially.

    Then where are you putting me?

    I’m rather partial to Slytherin for you, but where would you like to be ? The hat counters.

    If those watching could see his face, they’d see Harry blinking in confusion and surprise. Instead, he blinks at the inside of the hat, not having expected the question. I’m not sure. I mean, Gryffindor, I think? It’s just, I’ve a friend in Slytherin. He said those houses are rivals.

    Hm . The hat is quiet for only a moment, before it says, Their founders Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin were rivals and friends, you know. For a very long time.

    Oh . If the founders themselves could be both rivals and friends, surely Harry and Draco could manage that too, right? Gryffindor then .

    You’re certain? Won’t have any regrets? Then off you go, to “GRYFFINDOR!”

    Professor McGonagall removes the hat, and Harry blinks at the brightness of the room as he stands. The table on the far left has erupted into cheers, with many of them standing and clapping, and the Weasley twins chanting, “We got Potter!” repeatedly.

    Harry makes his way over, noticing as he does that the rest of the hall is staring at him still as the next student is called to be Sorted. His face warms, and he wonders if he’ll ever get used to the attention as a boy with a badge comes over to shake his hand. His red hair is such a distinctive, familiar shade that he’s not at all surprised to learn this is another Weasley, and in fact the one he’d heard speaking with the woman at the station.

    “Harry Potter! Welcome to Gryffindor. I’m Percy Weasley, one of the Gryffindor prefects. Such a pleasure to have you join our house!”

    “We got Potter! We got Potter!”

    Percy lets out a long suffering sigh before he turns and hisses at the twins, “Stop it! Do you want us to be the first to lose house points?” He shakes his head, then motions for Harry to follow him back to where he’d been sitting.

    Harry sits to Percy’s right, returning Neville’s shy smile and wave with a nod. Hermione is sitting on Percy’s other side, shaking her head at the twins who were still chanting a few seats further down, although they’d brought their volume down. Presumably to avoid notice from the teachers.

    “I wish people would stop staring,” Harry mutters, noting as he takes a seat that people are still looking over in his direction.

    Neville, sitting across from him, replies, “Well, y-you’re Harry Potter . You’re famous, you know.”

    “Well, that, and you’re the first hatstall in years,” Percy adds, taking a seat to Harry’s left.

    “A what?”

    “Hatstall. It’s what it’s called when the hat takes a while to place you.” Percy motions towards the hat where someone is almost instantly sorted into Ravenclaw. “Most people only take a minute or two. You three,” he motions to Harry, Neville, and Hermione, “took longer than most, but it’s only a hatstall if it’s more than five minutes.”

    “Was it really that long?” Harry asks, surprised.

    “It doesn’t feel that long in the moment,” Hermione muses. Neville nods his head in agreement.

    They watch the rest of the students get sorted, cheering whenever another Gryffindor is added to their ranks. If Harry’s cheering is a little less enthusiastic when the youngest Weasley also becomes a Gryffindor, he doubts anyone notices over the brothers’ loud cheers. Percy gets up again specifically to congratulate him and then comes back, his brother in tow. Harry, seeing that the free seats are on either side of where he currently is, moves to his left to take the one Percy had previously been occupying. Hopefully, the older boy won’t think anything of it except that Harry is trying to be considerate, and not hoping to avoid sitting next to his younger brother.

    Luck is with him in that although he doesn’t know what Percy thinks about the switch, not only does he not bring it up, but he takes Harry’s previous seat, leaving Ron to take the second one on his other side, so at least they’re separated. It has the added bonus, Harry thinks, to put him farther away from Hermione, who Harry thinks likely doesn’t want to risk another confrontation over dinner.

    The room quieted as the old headmaster stood up to welcome them all, saying a few gibberish words and sitting back down to applause and cheers. Harry doesn’t pretend to join in this time, frowning at the old headmaster. He doesn’t see Draco across the hall giving him the same raised eyebrow he had on the train, curiosity piqued.

    In any case, soon his and all the other students’ attention is drawn down to the tables as the golden place settings magically fill with food. He’s astonished, having never seen so much food in one place in all his life. Best of all, for only the second time in his life, he could eat to his heart’s content and no one would stop him or take the best for themselves, as his cousin often had. He filled his food with some of nearly everything on offer, and Harry is sure after a few bites that he has never had anything so good before.

    While they eat, talk revolves around questions from younger students to the older regarding classes or when the first Quidditch match will take place. Some discuss how happy or surprised their parents will be about their Sorting, which draws attention to the three seated near each out who had taken the longest to be Sorted.

    “What took the Sorting Hat so long to place you?” Ron asked, leaning around Percy to address Harry.

    He shrugs but Neville responds with another question himself. “Was the hat trying to convince you too? Thought I’d end up in Hufflepuff, but it insisted. Gran will be really happy about it.”

    “It was between here and Ravenclaw for me,” Hermione informs them, though she doesn’t look over in Ron’s direction as she answers.

    “What about you, Harry?” Neville asks.

    “Slytherin.”

    Percy looks at him in surprise. “ Slytherin ? That, uh, well a bit of a surprise, really.”

    “How come?” Harry asks.

    “ You-Know-Who was a Slytherin, s’why,” Ron offers, mouth full of food. “So were a bunch of his followers.” Ron looks directly at Harry. “Including Malfoy’s dad.”

    “He was found to be innocent and under the Imperius Curse,” Percy reminds his brother.

    Ron gives him an incredulous look. “ Dad thinks that’s a lie.”

    “Yes, well, the Ministry doesn’t,” Percy rebutts, mouth a thin line of disapproval. “So you would do well not to spread rumors about the Malfoys."

    Harry puts away this bit of information, but refuses to give Ron the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, he pointedly ignores him, turning back to his food. He’ll think about what he’s just learned and decide what, if any of it, to bring up with Draco later.

    Talk then turns to their families. Neville tells them all to laughter about his uncle trying to get him to do magic, although Hermione gasps when he tells them he was dropped out of a window. Seamus Finnegan takes over then, causing more laughter when he explains the shock his father received the first time his son performed accidental magic, as it led to finding out his wife had secretly been a witch the whole time. Many others have parents who are both witches and wizards, so they’d expected coming to Hogwarts, while others had been caught completely off-guard like Hermione, whose parents were both Muggle. Harry admits he was raised with Muggles himself, and therefore hadn’t a clue about being a wizard, much less famous, prior to receiving his Hogwarts letters.

    Many are surprised by this new and Harry, realizing he doesn’t want to answer any additional questions about his Muggle relatives or the parents he doesn’t remember, turns to Percy and asks about what they might expect from their first day. Percy is more than happy to tell them all about the things they’ll learn first year, his enthusiasm matched only by Hermione, so that Harry is drawn into talk of classes and schoolwork. It effectively makes everyone else lose interest in being a part of Harry’s conversation for the moment, and although he’s not nearly as keen on what Percy is telling them as Hermione clearly is, he nevertheless finds himself looking forward to getting to learn real magic for himself.

    It is while Percy is telling them about starting off small in Transfiguration with their Head of House, Professor McGonagall, that Harry happens to glance over towards the High Table. At some point, the stool and the Sorting Hat were removed. On the closest end is Hagrid, drinking from a goblet, with Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore speaking to each other somewhere around the middle. Further down he sees Professor Snape, speaking with a man wearing a purple turban, whose back is currently to Harry. He wonders if it might be the same turbaned gentleman from Diagon Alley he’d seen Snape speaking to, but he isn’t sure just how common turbans are in the wizarding world to say how likely that might be.

    Just then, Snape looks over and catches his eye. He nods his head towards Harry, who lifts a hand to wave when there’s a sudden pain in his forehead.

    “Ouch!” He presses his hand against his forehead, surprised.

    “Are you all right?” Percy asks while Hermione tilts her head to peer at Harry’s face.

    “Oh, uh, yes. Yes, I’m fine,” Harry assures them, the pain in his scar already fading.

    “Is it your scar? Does it often hurt?” Hermione’s gaze is curious as it runs over his forehead.

    “No, actually. Never,” Harry admits. Which is true. It’s never once, in all his life, bothered him. “Say Percy, who is that speaking with Professor Snape?”

    “You know Snape, do you? Let’s see.” Percy runs his gaze along the High Table until he spots the purple turban, just as the man turns allowing them to better see his face. “Ah, that man would be the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Quirrell.”

    The desserts disappear from the table then, and the room quiets as Professor Dumbledore stands up. He addresses the room to inform them of a few start-of-term notices, of which were included the information that the forests on the ground as well as the right side of the third floor corridor were forbidden to students, the latter coming with the warning of a gruesome death for any who did not heed the warning. Percy mutters about this being news to him, noting that the prefects should have been informed, just as the headmaster has them all sing the school song to whatever tune pleases them.

    At no point does the man ever directly look at him, as far as Harry can tell, but somehow, he’s sure that the man is still watching him. It’s an unnerving feeling, and he’s glad when the Weasley twins finally finish their funeral dirge version of the school song and they’re dismissed to go to their houses.

    Already, Harry has so much to think about, and classes haven’t even started yet. He thinks he’ll definitely need to get some sleep if he’s to be prepared for what tomorrow will bring.

Story Notes:

Chapter title is a Jordan Sparks song.

[lifeinahole27]

CS ff: “Walking the Tightrope” (Chapter 9/10) (au)

Summary: Killian’s daily routines are a matter of habit. When he wakes up late one morning, his routines all change for the better. Emma doesn’t care about routines, but she does care about Killian, no matter how reluctant she is to admit it to herself.

Rating: E (the content warnings matter this time!)

Content Warnings:  More nefarious doings from Walsh, and some uhhhh... other side of the law consultation from a certain twin. Also, the beginning of the chapter includes a proper parting "goodbye" between Emma and Killian. ;)

A Special Thank You: My continued gratitude to my lovely friends, @captainstudmuffin and @phiralovesloki. And a heap of love to @captainswanbigbang for putting this together and helping me accomplish this.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 |

Find it on Ao3 & FFN!

-x-

Chapter 9: Of Reunions and Baggage

There’s a lot to be said for the quiet moments they create while they’re together, and Killian is ever happier for the one they had in his office on Saturday. As the week wears on, both of them get more nervous and distracted for what’s coming for them at the end of the week. While they have two different kinds of anxiety, Killian also knows at this point they’re just feeding off each other’s nerves.

Killian is definitely feeling the pressures of the party looming closer. It’s a simple holiday party; he’s had no hand in planning it which is always a relief to him, but it’s bound to feel bigger because of the stakes involved. The most he’ll have to do is give a small speech and make sure Henry is present, and even that isn’t really his job with Robin and Regina as his new foster family.

Closer to Friday, Killian and Emma spend time at each other’s places getting ready for their trips. He’s flying out on Friday morning with the Mills-Hood clan for a weekend in New York City. His original intentions were to take Emma to the party, then spend a day in the city and an evening together before they drove back on Sunday. With no Emma, he was able to tag along with the others for their trip down. 

Emma, meanwhile, is driving down to Boston with David. Her task is a little more soul-destroying than his is going to be. With that in mind, he accepts the help she gives on picking out his suit and tie, packing them into his travel garment bag and making sure everything is included. 

They spend the next night at Emma’s place, the emotions on the same wavelength but nowhere near as intense as last time they were there, until Killian can finally coax her to sleep with the way his fingers travel through her hair over and over again. 

Much like the last time, one of them is awoken from the gentle persuasion of lips on lips, but this time, Killian is remaking that memory with every intention of sending Emma off on her trip in a lighter mood than she would be. 

The dawn light is just starting to break through, and Emma will have to leave sooner than either of them wants her to, but in the warmth of her bed, they can both pretend that nothing else exists.

With his lips against hers, Killian slowly draws Emma from her sleep. She’s a temptress when she wakes up, as it’s with her inhibitions low that she has no hesitance showing and telling him exactly what she wants. This morning is no different than the other times they’ve woken each other in such ways, as her hands start gently encouraging him downwards.

It was the destination he had in mind, and he’d never deny her anyway, so he easily glides from the kiss to giving proper attention to her neck and chest. He pushes her sleep shirt out of the way in order to spend a little time with her breasts while his hand slips beneath the ridiculous things she calls sleep shorts. He pays close attention to her movements, her breathing, her sounds, and when she’s on the precipice of losing her patience with his pace, that’s when he moves onward again, replacing his fingers with his lips while he slides her shorts down her legs. 

With deliberate motions, he works on coaxing her up to a climax in a slow and steady way. Just when her hands are clutching at his hair, however, he backs off, easing her away from the breaking point while smiling against the barrage of angry noises she makes. 

Twice more he takes her up to the edge of the cliff of pleasure, making sure that she’s on board the whole time even though her noises of aggravation are starting to include the way she grumbles his name. 

By the time he relents and brings her to climax, he’s almost painfully hard and he and Emma are both covered in a thin sheen of sweat. All the way down her chest is pink from the exertion, but she’s the one that pulls him up, and readies him with protection while he’s still catching his breath. With obvious intent, she pushes him onto his back, sliding onto his cock in one easy movement. 

It’s new every time they have sex - the feelings change, or the mood is different - and this time is no exception. She’s a powerhouse on top of him, pulling his hand up to cup her breast while she rides away. Between gasping breaths, she whispers his name, bringing them both close to orgasm with each movement of her hips. 

When her hands clench where they’re positioned on his chest, he knows it’s only a matter of time before she crests again, and so he presses against where they’re joined with his left wrist, planting his feet for better leverage to meet her thrust for thrust and urging her to fall again before he reaches his own. 

It doesn’t take long, and then Emma is grinding down on him in need, falling against his chest when pleasure takes her over one more time. She lazily bites his shoulder as she comes down, finally igniting his own orgasm and he holds her against him with all his strength. When the last drop of him is spent, he relaxes, letting his legs fall back to the mattress but still cradling Emma close to him. 

“You are marvelous,” he whispers against her forehead. 

She sits up, pushing sweaty hair off her face and smiling down at him. “So are you. Hopefully we’ve both made up for the fact that we won’t be spending this weekend together.”

“And there will be more where that came from when we meet up again, love. Meanwhile, we both know David will be here sooner than either of us want him to be,” he informs her, regretting the fact that she’s shifting out of his arms and the comfortable hold her body had on him releases.

She sighs at that, smiling as she climbs off the bed. “You’re right. Stick around until I’m done?”

He nods at her, pulling her back for one more solid kiss before she grabs her robe and heads off down the stairs. 

In the meantime, he cleans up as much as he can and heads down to make coffee and toast for the both of them. 

-x-

Emma is something beyond used to the drive to Boston. Thanks to dating Walsh, the route is so familiar now that it’s almost boring. Okay, so it would be boring if she’d managed to stay awake past ten minutes after they got on the road. But it’s still way too early and Killian did too good of a job of helping her relax this morning, and so she’s out like a light right as David hits his comfortable speed.

She dozes for most of the drive, knowing that the trip is in David’s very capable driving skills. He wakes her up when they’re about twenty minutes away from the address that James gave them, and while she knew he wouldn’t be smack in the middle of downtown, she’s surprised at the suburban feel she’s getting as they get closer and closer. 

“No fucking way,” Emma mutters when they reach the address. 

The house they pull up to is large and sprawling, and nothing at all what she imagined James would be living in. Of course, she mostly imagined he’d live in some seedy apartment building in the shady side of town with some kind of elaborate code system to even get into the lobby. 

But this looks clean and wealthy, and she honestly doesn’t know what to think anymore. 

If she thought she was surprised before, she doesn’t know what she is when James answers the door. 

“Ah, if it isn’t the do-gooders of the family. Come in,” he tells them, still gently bopping as a baby in a harness sleeps against his chest before he moves back into the house. 

Emma looks over to David, who looks back at her with the same wide eyes she knows she has.

“Heat costs money. Get in or get out - either way I don’t care as long as that door is shut.”

At the distant prompting, they finally both move forward, closing the door behind them and taking a moment to remove their boots on the provided mat. With her shoes off first, Emma follows the sounds she can hear and finds James in the kitchen. He’s carefully pulling mugs off a set of hooks beneath the cabinets, while an expensive looking kettle heats on the stove.

“I figured this was a conversation that would do well with some tea. You have a preference?” 

“My boyfriend probably would, but I’ll take any kind you have,” Emma says, moving to sit on one of the stools he gestures towards. David joins just a moment later, settling in next to Emma after offering to help and getting shooed away. 

When James turns back to work on getting the tea ready, all Emma can do is mentally compare the two brothers in her head. James has this whole brooding look going for him, with facial hair that frames his jaw and chin but looks trimmed and maintained. While David usually wears anything in blues, James is dressed in a black shirt and gray slacks - nothing Emma would expect someone to wear casually around the house, but she has no explanations for anything this man does. 

“So why would the two of you need my help when you’re both in law enforcement?” James asks, breaking her from her thoughts.

“It’s Emma that needs the help, actually,” David points out. “You’re a father?”

“This is Robert James. We call him RJ. And he’s king of this household,” James introduces, lovingly stroking the infant’s wisps of hair. “You need me to hack something?”

“Sort of. Yeah. Probably. Okay, definitely.” She’s having a hard time concentrating when she can’t stop staring at the baby attached to the evil twin of her two brothers.

As if sensing this, James huffs and rolls his eyes. With gentle maneuvers, he takes RJ out of the carrier and carefully deposits him in Emma’s arms so swiftly that she doesn’t even have time to protest. She feels the way her lip pouts at the adorable sleeping boy in her arms but she just can’t help it. She’s been hoping for ages that David and Snow were going to have one of their own so she could have a moment like this. She’s an aunt, no matter if she’s in this kid’s life or not. 

“Okay, Auntie Emma. Spill.” 

At the title, no matter how sarcastic he was being, she does almost cry, but takes another moment to look at the sweet innocence in her arms before she starts her explanation.

“Okay shut up and don’t say anything in response to what I’m about to tell you,” Emma finally says. “I was dating a guy down here a couple years ago and it turns out he has this sick website with naked pictures of all the women he’s slept with.”

James stares at her for a second, lifting an eyebrow. When the tea kettle whistles, he goes to retrieve it, pouring equal measures into each of the mugs placed on the island.  “What you’re telling me is that sweet little Emma has porn? On the internet?” 

“James.” The warning tone in David’s voice is evident.

“No no, little brother. I get to take a moment to soak in the fact that mom’s second favorite is involved in a porn scandal, okay?” He stands back, placing his hands on his hips and taking a few deep breaths. “Fantastic. Okay. So you want me to hack the site and delete yours?”

“I want them all deleted. The whole website. But this time I need to know that all digital copies were destroyed. And I’m sure he has physical copies, as well.”

“Tallying this up, we’re looking at breaking and entering, hacking, a nasty virus if needed, and theft of personal property?”

“Personal property that he doesn’t have consent to have.”

James bobs his head in consideration for that. “Okay. You have your needs, and I have mine. I want any cash we find in his place. And David has to watch the baby.”

“What?”

“You can’t bring a baby to a B&E, David. And I’m certainly not bringing my son, either,” James says with almost a straight face. He laughs and shifts out of the way of David’s half-hearted attempt to punch his arm. “So what about you? Where’s your kid?”

“We uh, we don’t have one yet,” David admits. 

“Is everything all right?” James asks, and Emma looks sharply at him, trying to decipher that tone. “I mean, she’s not a prude or anything, right? I remember Snow was a hottie when you met her.”

That’s a more familiar tone. She’s almost sure that there’s a softness to him that wasn’t there before, though. 

“You’re an asshole,” David announces, clearly missing the nuance of the previous statement. “I’m the sheriff. It’s not easy to just take off that amount of time.”

“That sounds like bullshit. You have Emma here as your deputy and the whole town is like two thousand people. You can probably take as much time as you need.”

“How do you know I’m the deputy?” Emma asks, but David speaks a moment later and her question goes unanswered.

“I worry about being a good father. We didn’t have a lot of years with dad and I just… I worry.”

“Dave. If I can keep a baby alive, I’m pretty sure you can.”

“This is a weird energy,” Emma states, unused to the fact that James is being the calm and confident one and David is on shaky ground. 

“Here,” James says, taking RJ from her arms and placing him with David instead. “Follow me. It’s time to put him in his crib. Emma, don’t go through my stuff.”

Of course, the minute he’s out of the room, Emma is up and out of her seat. She wanders the kitchen first, taking a peek into his disgustingly clean fridge and opening a few cupboard doors just to see. 

In the entryway, there are several portraits of RJ looking fresh and tiny. In one, he’s wrapped snugly in a gray blanket, his eyes closed and a peaceful expression on his face. The one next to that has him cradled between two arms, artfully posed so that no little baby bits are exposed due to the lack of clothes. 

“He shit in my hand like ten seconds after that,” James says from directly behind her. There’s such a fondness in his voice that it makes her smile.

“You probably deserved it,” she says, turning and placing a hand on his elbow. “Congratulations. He’s really adorable.”

“Thanks,” is all he says in response, giving her a genuine smile for the first time. 

Returning to the kitchen, they spend a few extra minutes talking as they finish their drinks. They leave David shortly after their mugs are empty, with James reminding him no less than four times to call if there are any problems. 

There’s total silence on the ride over, and James makes sure to park two blocks over just to be safe. It would be so much easier to do this if it wasn’t December and freezing right now, but at least it isn’t snowing. The latch on the door to the building is still broken, which is fine by her since it’s one less thing they have to break into.

“You remember how to do it like I showed you?” James asks, pulling out his lock-pick set and holding it out to her. 

“Don’t you ever tell David I know how to do this or I will hunt you down,” she mutters as she takes the kit and gets to work. 

They split up once inside in order to thoroughly comb the small space Walsh likes to call home. It’s little more than a one-bedroom hovel, barely larger than a postage stamp and definitely not worth the rent he’s paying per month. While James focuses on the computer and getting into the website, Emma goes through every drawer, every closet, every nook and cranny she can find.

She hits the jackpot in his bedroom closet, there in the very back, where a locked box sits on the top shelf. She doesn’t even need the kit to get it open, wiggling the flimsy lock just right and grinning when it pops open. She tries not to look too closely at any of the pictures, but it’s definitely a carefully catalogued collection. She sets it on the bed while she keeps combing through his stuff, only satisfied when every item has been shifted and put carefully back in place. 

Since it’s the middle of a workday, she never expected that they’d have to confront Walsh at all. She’s doing nothing more than waiting for James to finish up at this point when she hears the front door open and close again.

“Fuck,” she mutters, knowing that they can’t exactly hide. 

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m all done here,” James says. His thumbs hook under the ledge above the keyboard when he goes to push away and his eyebrows draw down for a second. “Almost done,” he adds, lifting the thumb drive that was clearly not meant to be found. He pockets it just as Walsh walks into the room.

-x-

After seeing Emma off, Killian walks back to his place to shower and get ready for his own trip. Since he had to change his whole trip around, he managed to get on to the same flight as Robin and his merry band of family, and they’re picking him up on their way to the airport soon.

The flight is quick, and he takes his time settling into the hotel room; he’s in for a whirlwind of an evening, so the quiet leading up to the event is something he strives to enjoy.

There’s the small matter that he hasn’t heard much from Emma. But again, she wasn’t quite sure what she was walking into with her ex and David’s twin. He’s glad she was at least able to text him that she’d arrived safely in Boston, but he tempers his hopes that he’ll hear from her again before this is all over.

For most of their events, NeverEndings hosts their parties right in the office, but this one is the biggest event they’ll host all year. The venue has a spectacular view of the city, especially when there’s a light snowfall just starting. He knows it isn’t going to last, and none of it is supposed to stick, but it makes for a pretty view beyond the windows as the sun sets behind the clouds and the party begins. 

All of the major clients of the publishing house start filtering in, and Killian makes sure to paste on the smile he’s perfected for such events. After only a couple minutes of schmoozing, however, he feels like his cheeks are going to crack and his eyes are watering, so he excuses himself to get another drink. It’s just ginger ale tonight, which is fine by him. 

At the bar, he finds Henry looking dapper in his new suit and his hair slicked back much like Robin styles his. 

“All right there, lad?”

“Yeah, just trying to take it all in,” Henry responds, smiling and observing the room at large. “Hey Killian? I never got to say thank you to you or Emma for all your help. Why isn’t she here tonight?”

“She had a personal matter to attend to. I’ll make sure we get lunch sometime soon so you can say it in person,” Killian tells him. “How are things going with Robin and our illustrious leader?”

“It’s going great! I mean, Regina has me doing all these chores around the house and she’s got me enrolled in school for after the holidays end. It’ll be weird going back to public school after being home-schooled so much. She also loves signing us all up for activities. We’ve done two painting classes as a group now down at Aurora’s shop.”

Killian knows the boy is aiming for disaffection or something similar, but the wistful tone to his voice is giving it all away. He’s loving it. From one great family to an absolute personal hell, now back into something like a family, Henry is having the experiences he always wanted as a child. 

“Is she making you eat vegetables, too?”

Henry groans with great exaggeration. “So many vegetables. I like Pop-Tarts and Apollo Bars!”

“She just might be the best mum ever, then,” Killian points out, wagging a finger at Henry’s face.

The teenager’s mirth settles until his smile is soft. “Yeah, she might be. She also wants to sign me up for these online writing classes so I can get even better so maybe you’ll have an easier time editing the sequel to my novella.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Henry looks like he didn’t mean to say them.

“I mean, if you guys even choose to publish it. I don’t expect you to. I don’t mean...I’m sorry.”

“You have a second one started?” Killian asks, forgetting all about the fact that they should be mingling, that he should be introducing Henry to everyone that’s still wandering in. “What’s it about, then?”

“Well, I mean, it’s still in the works. I just started it during Thanksgiving after I moved up here. But I had this idea to use someone like… like a villain in other stories. Like Captain Hook? And make him this anti-hero who helps the heroes even though he doesn’t feel like he’s one of them, and it’s because of this that he falls in love.” He’s avoiding eye contact with Killian and the math is pretty easy at that point, so Killian hides his grin behind his ginger ale. 

“Who does he fall in love with?”

“Haven’t decided yet,” Henry says, the frustrations of a young writer coming out in his voice. “It’s between a couple different people. You figure after all those happy endings that all those fairytale characters went and got married and had kids, right? So maybe he meets someone like Rapunzel and Flynn Rider’s daughter when she’s all grown up. Or Snow White and Prince Charming!”

“I love the concept. And can’t wait to edit this next one with you.”

“Next one? Has my liege acquired our services for his next novella?” Robin comes over, clapping Henry fondly on the shoulder as he gestures with his other hand for another round of drinks. 

“Aye, your lad seems to have the next installment all figured out. All we have to do now is get him to write it.”

“Knowing him, he’ll have it written before spring break,” Robin says fondly. “How are you handling all this so far, Henry?”

“It’s… a lot to take in.”

“We’ll go slow. Let either of us know if you need a breather. We’ll focus most of the interacting after dinner is over so you can get adjusted.”

Henry nods, turning just in time for the ball of energy that is Roland to come bounding into his arms. 

“Come look! Come look!” the boy says, grabbing onto Henry’s hand and pulling him away from Robin and Killian. Henry sort of rolls his eyes but stands up, looking over his shoulder and shrugging as he gets led over to the windows as Roland excitedly points at all the buildings visible from this angle. 

“He may look like a grumbling teenager, but don’t let him fool you. He loves it,” Robin says after they’re both out of hearing range. 

“I feel like I already know the answer to this, but how’s he doing?”

“Better than I ever could’ve expected. If I would’ve realized what he was living with, I would’ve suggested this move sooner.”

“How’s Regina handling yet another male in the house?”

Robin chuckles for a moment. “You know, she told me shortly after we started seeing each other that she couldn’t have children. I had Roland, so it’s not like I was in a rush to have any more. But she loved him so quickly and so fully, that I was sure we were fine exactly as we were. And then Henry came in and completed the picture that I didn’t know was unfinished.”

“I’m happy for you all, mate. And I’m glad he’ll be in town with all of us. Talent and imagination like that needs to be cultivated and loved. And lord knows we all have the skills to do that in Storybrooke.”

“That’s why I prefer the branch to be with us instead of down here. It’s all very pretty, lit up like this and with the snow and the Christmas spirits dancing in the air. But Storybrooke has that all the time - not just around the holidays.”

“Also, if you don’t pick up his sequel, I will personally lay my professional career on the line in order to publish it,” Killian says after a moment.

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’ll sign any and all books that lad publishes for the rest of his life, if I have my way. Also, we haven’t told him yet, but we’re already looking to adopt him if he’ll have us.

Robin leaves Killian standing there with that information and Killian can’t help the full grin on his face. He takes a deep breath, asks for one more refill on his drink, and then wanders to their table to wait for dinner to be served.

-x-

Chapter 10

[7team7]

Choosing Fate: Chapter 4

Helping or hurting? // Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

A/N: Happy birthday to the best girl ever, Uchiha Sakura!! I also posted a super short one shot yesterday, so consider that an homage to her as well :D

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After the strangeness of living with a new family wore off a bit, Sakura started growing dreadfully bored. She couldn’t think about her parents and siblings for too long without growing teary eyed. The house was quiet most of the time, even when the entire family was home. Even when she tiptoed, she felt like the floors always creaked beneath her feet and she could never achieve the silent grace of the Uchihas. 

She tried making small talk with Sasuke but it usually ended quickly and in an awkward silence. It seemed that to him, a good life was a productive life, so he often met her efforts with a cutting, “What are you doing?” If she wasn’t keeping busy, it didn’t seem worth his time or understanding.

The jokes and smiles that flowed so freely in her childhood home were nowhere to be found here. She tried to think of different ways to spend time with him that didn’t include eating with his parents. He was a tough nut to crack. If they had to court each other before marriage, they both would’ve done a terrible job, she thought.

When she found him in their room packing up for another trip with his father one morning — this time, hunting — she offered to go with him, as silly as it sounded. She was just desperate. 

But Sasuke didn’t see the point at all and quickly wrote her off, “There’s no need. You would just get in the way. We’re almost ready anyways.”

She bit her lip, “Ah, you’re right. Sorry, I wasn’t sure. Just trying to help. This whole marriage thing is new to me too.” She forced out a laugh. 

“Sakura,” he started awkwardly, “I don’t want this just as much as you don’t.” He had paused in his packing and found her wringing her hands with a hopeful expression, but the light quickly dimmed in her eyes after he finished speaking. 

What were meant to be words of comfort were interpreted as words of cruelty, words that distanced. “I know you don’t want me, Sasuke,” she said, already exasperated. “But you don’t have to always make it seem that way. You can pretend for a second and be nice to me.” 

In a moment of frustration, he spit, “We don’t have to love each other to be married, you know.”

Sakura laughed without humor, “Trust me, I know. You think I want to love someone like you, let alone be married? Like you said, this is as bad as it is for me as it is for you. At least I’m trying to make the best of things.” Everyday, she discovered ways they were different. She didn’t understand him, but she wanted to. He was making it near impossible; they wouldn’t make any progress when she was always being kept at arm’s length. 

She marched out of their room quickly and left him to continue his preparations. She didn’t want to cry, and she knew seeing his face would’ve set her off. An apology rested on the tip of his tongue, but his pride held it back. 

He felt a strange sense of guilt settle in the bottom of his stomach when she still sent him off with a perfectly made bento.

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It had been two weeks since Sasuke returned from the hunting trip and things were icy between him and Sakura. She was always polite, but she wasn’t extending herself the way she used to. Even if he knew he could find the answer through introspection, he wondered what was wrong with her. The house felt dimmer than ever.

Their little argument faded into the background when new and more important issues needed to be addressed. What Mikoto originally waved off as spring allergies eventually revealed itself to be a nasty flu. “It’s all the pollen in the air, you know,” she insisted even after her first attempt at speaking was cut off by a bout of coughing. Where Sasuke was panicked and uncertain, Sakura was calm and composed — the water to his fire.

Sasuke admired how Sakura never left her bedside and cared for her when he couldn’t. He was surprised, even, that she would dedicate so much time to someone who, while friendly with her, was still a bit of a stranger. It would’ve been more convenient to call a doctor, but Sakura claimed she had it under control. His father, stoic as ever, still proceeded with all their plans. Even Itachi and Izumi were forbidden to visit lest they catch the same flu and spread it around. “She has Sakura,” Fugaku said matter of factly when Sasuke expressed concern over leaving Mikoto alone. They set out on a scheduled trip, taking care to wash up, but trusting Mikoto in Sakura’s hands.

When Sasuke was at home, he still left it to Sakura as she proved to be far more capable than him. Her hearty soups and cups of tea were always heated to the perfect temperature. She washed the bedding often, making sure her mother-in-law was always as comfortable as possible. She carried a heavy bucket of water into the room to keep a damp cloth on Mikoto’s forehead without spilling a drop. She even ordered Sasuke to go to the market and buy a specific herb that was nowhere to be found in their kitchen. 

Upon returning, he found her asleep against the foot of the bed. He felt bad that he had to wake her up, but he had no idea what to do with said herb. He felt, in a word, useless. But Sakura roused easily and thanked him as she blinked the sleep away. He watched as she expertly ground it into a fine powder, adding it to another cup of tea. Sasuke made a note of the process; next time he would let her sleep.

Anyone who displayed so much care for his mother was worthy of praise, he decided. 

He caught her in the backyard enjoying the brilliant sunset and a bit of fresh air after she deemed Mikoto healthy again, a week later. “I wanted to say thank you for taking such good care of her,” he started. “She always wanted a daughter, and I know she was sad when Itachi and Izumi moved out. Both my parents felt that way, really. She was very happy when it was decided that you would move in so soon after.” He didn’t really know why he was telling her all of this — in fact, it was probably the largest amount of words he’d ever said to her — but it felt like he owed her now more than ever. 

Sakura laughed lightly, “Well, I’m glad at least one person was happy I came here.” It really was reassuring, she had felt like an intruder for so long. Honestly, Mikoto was lovely and Sakura would willingly help her anytime. The circumstances of them living together were just a little unfortunate. Sasuke responded very seriously, “It’s not just her who appreciates it.” She, in spite of all her annoying tendencies, was growing on him. When he noticed the pretty blush dusting her cheeks, he quickly changed the subject. He really didn’t want to explore the implications of his words or her reaction.

“How did you even know what to do?” Sasuke asked bluntly. 

Sakura laughed again, and Sasuke still couldn’t help notice the way the fullness of her pink cheeks made her eyes crease at the corners. Such a useless piece of information, yet he couldn’t look away. “I have so many siblings, someone is always sick. We usually couldn’t afford an actual doctor, so it was always up to me to figure things out.” Sasuke nodded and looked out into the yard. None of the grasses or plants were quite the color of her eyes. 

He found himself thinking she’d make an amazing mother. He had been praised for his looks his whole life, and he took after his mother. He knew if their child took after Sakura, they would be beautiful.

He headed back inside when he noticed his heart rate speeding up. He tried convincing himself that maybe he was just getting sick too.

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After Mikoto made a complete recovery, she set out to visit her friends and family that had been kept away by Sakura’s orders. And once again, without someone or something to attend to, Sakura only felt trapped inside the house. The chores she used to despise growing up were ones she now wished she could pass the time doing. Was her father minding his back in the fields? Were her mother’s joints hurting with the change in the weather? 

Sasuke noticed Sakura staring out the window, looking terribly bored and melancholy on more than one occasion. He finally found the time to stop and talk to her, something he knew he should do more often.

“What are you doing?” He had something to give her, but was she..busy?

“I want my life back,” she stated dully while continuing to look out the window.

He sighed. She didn’t even try to sugarcoat it. Their marriage wasn’t his choice, but he was beginning to feel like some of her misery was directly a result of his neglect. And he didn’t like the way that weighed on him. “I’m not a thief,” he answered simply before placing a thick book on the table next to her, titled A Beginners Guide to Medicine.

He had never seen her eyes so bright.

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Sasuke took it upon himself to tutor Sakura from that point on. Even if they weren’t yet suited to being husband and wife, they didn’t have to ignore each other’s existence. Tutoring her gave him a goal, it helped orient their relationship. And she was an excellent student: diligent and hungry for knowledge. 

He discovers that there are gaps in her education, from times when she had to devote herself to helping in the fields or raising her siblings. He had always thought of being educated as a binary: either you are or you aren’t. She hardly seemed embarrassed, rather she was more determined to catch up to Sasuke’s level. He admired her impetus and found himself regretting taking his school days for granted. He couldn’t help but think the village would have been a lot more prosperous if someone like Sakura had been allowed to put her mind to solving its problems. 

Sakura grew to admire Sasuke, just a little bit. He was a strict teacher, but a knowledgeable and clear one. She had his full attention for once, and his intensity was impressive.

She privately decides to accept the book and his teachings as a birthday gift.

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A/N: I wanted to draw parallels to Sakura taking care of Sarada, and provide some sneak peeks into how Sakura gets into medicine in this AU. Also anyone catch the New Order reference?? Haha superheated is one of my favorite songs ever, so I just wanted to throw something in when I got the chance. There’s a lot packed into this chapter, hopefully it was ok! Sakura please tell everyone to stay home and flatten the curve :(

[shannygoatgruff]

Talk to Me

Stay Safe, Stay Home Writing Challenge - Prompt #16 (Call me if you need anything)

Genre: Romance

Pairing: Modern Ivar x OC

Warning: Language, sexual innuendo, insecurity

Rating: M

Chapter 1 || Chapter 3

Chapter 2

Sitting in Terminal 19, Ivar wasn’t sure how he was going to make it through this entire vacation without killing Hvitserk. 

From the car to their current spot, they argued, non-stop. First, Ivar didn’t want Hvitserk's with his leg braces through airport security. Then, they argued because Hvitserk wanted Ivar to use a wheelchair because it was faster. But, Ivar didn’t want to use a wheelchair; he could walk. He had his braces had brought both of his forearm crutches. It would take him a bit longer, but he could get to the terminal on his own. After calling Ivar a spoiled dick-wad, Hvitserk then insisted that they use the airport shuttle service to get to the terminal. He thought it was only fair since he was the one that had to lug around their carry-on bags. Ivar just called Hvitserk a lazy asshole as he listened to his brother curse at him as they walked to the terminal. 

As soon as they sat down Hvitserk wanted to get food. All Ivar did was ask why they didn’t stop on their way to the terminal? He was hungry, too, but now he was tired and needed to rest. This particular disagreement turned into an actual slap boxing match where Hvitserk got the last sucker punch in on Ivar’s bicep and ran away from where they were sitting.

Telling his older brother that he wished he'd get herpes, Ivar pulled out his vibrating phone. “Hallo, for Ivar.”

Just hearing his deep, yet gentle voice with that Norse accent, did something to her every time. She couldn’t tell Norweigan from Swedish from Icelandic from Dutch – it was all Scandinavian to her. The accent was just sexy as hell. “Hey.” Cash bit her lip, as she folded her legs under her on the floor at the Munich International Airport. “I made it to Munich. My next flight leaves in 2 hours.”  

“I’m sorry,” Ivar put his hand over his phone and spoke in Norweigan to Hvitserk before drawing back his fist in order to hit his brother if he didn’t get away from him. “Did you have a good flight?” He was relieved that she did. “I just made it to the airport. My flight is leaving in about 1 hour. It should take me about 2 hour, 20 minutes to reach Vienna.”   

“So, we’re going to see each other in a few hours, huh?” Cash could feel her stomach drop at the thought. Part of her wanted to go up to that ticket counter and change her return flight ticket. She wanted to hop on the first thing heading back to Baltimore. But another part of her, the part that wanted to see if this thing, whatever it was, could really be something.  

Ubbe is right. I have to tell her.  “Yeah, just a few hours. Do you know what time you want to meet tonight? Our hotels are just a few streets away.”  

“Um, I don’t have any idea how long it will take me to get through Customs when I get to Vienna.” She picked at the lent on her PINK sweatpants and thought. “Plus, I’ve been traveling overnight and haven’t slept at all. I’m exhausted – I may try to take a quick nap.”

“Okay.” Ivar was a little disappointed because he wanted to see her right away, but it at least bought him a little time. “But, you know if you sleep when you get in, you will never adjust to the local time. It is best to stay awake through it all. Besides, I make a really comfy pillow.” He held his breath for a second, trying to find the words to tell her about his condition. Instead, different words came tumbling out of his mouth, “I cannot wait to see your face.”

She chuckled nervously at that statement. Oh, that. Did he have to bring that up again? The last time they talked about exchanging photos, she ended up sending him a bunch of avatars. It wasn’t that she was afraid to show him what she looked like, but what if her mother was right and he ended up being some sort of homicidal maniac? She didn’t want to give him a photo to post on the wall of his creepy den of debauchery to jerk off to.  

What if he didn't like the things about her that she was already insecure about? She was short – only 5’3” and skinny. No matter what she tried, she couldn’t gain weight where it counted. She wasn’t sure what happened but the chests, hips, and butts that all of the women on her mother’s side of the family were blessed with, those genes skipped her completely. Her neck was too thin and it made her head look big. And though she loved her curly hair, it was big, too. Not that easily tamed curly hair that looked good on commercials, either. We’re talking totally unruly big curls on a short, skinny girl, with a big head, big curly hair. 

There were probably only like 3 black people in all of Norway, to begin with. What if Ivar didn’t appreciate all of her melanin? She was sure he knew she was black from her avatar, but they had never really talked about their races or ethnicities before. “I still don’t know what you look either. But, I think it makes meeting a complete stranger in a different country much more romantic when you don’t know who you’re looking for, don’t you?”

Over the last six months, he had been the one reluctantly to video chat with her. He was so afraid that she would see his braces or crutches. It was just better if they kept it to calls and messages. Plus, there was something really exciting about getting to know her and having her like him without the pity. God knows he had enough pity dates courtesy of his older brothers. “Not so much for me. I’m thinking, maybe we should exchange photos now.” He looked over his shoulder to make sure Hvitserk wasn’t nearby. “I want to look at you while I am on the plane.” 

This was only ever supposed to be an online friendship. All Cash did was reply to a comment he’d left on a YouTube vlog they both subscribed to. Somehow that turned into them emailing and chatting. Then that turned into texting and talking on the phone, and late nights and giggling in the dark. The next thing she knew, six months later, she was flying to Vienna to meet him. “Does it make sense that I’m nervous for you to see me?”

 “Why? I already think you are beautiful.” He said quietly.

Oh lord, I’m gonna fuck this boy.  She rubbed her brows and shook her head at the thought. Cash had tried so hard not to get caught up, but there was such sincerity in his voice. “Okay. I’m going to send you three pictures. No matter what you think, don’t say anything. That way, if I’m not your type, then there are no hard feelings. We can just have a great time and hang out as friends.”

“You know that is not going to happen. You are so much more than my friend." He hoped he could still be this smooth in person, "But, I’ll play along. I will send you some pictures too and you will not comment, either.”

“Okay, I’ll call you back in a few minutes. I have to look through my phone to find somewhere I don’t look crazy.”  

It took Ivar about 30 seconds to choose the pictures to send to her. Most of them were from the chest up or showed him sitting, so he was pretty confident that she wouldn't notice his affliction. He hit the send button and anxiously awaited her pictures in return.

When her phone pinged she closed her eyes. Did she want to open them?  Okay, he is not going to look like Eric Northman, so don’t be disappointed.  Why she had it in her mind that he was going to be some 6’6” blond vampire-Adonis like Alexander Skarsgård, was beyond her. 

But, didn’t all Scandinavian men have that look to them? Sexy, long, lanky, blonds, with sad blue eyes that were slightly darker around the sockets and looked like they moonlighted as vampires. That’s what secretly hoped that Ivar looked like. A sexy blond vampire – she could be Tara and he could Eric…Girl, get yourself together. This is not True Blood.  She shouldn’t have binge-watched the show on her flight.

When she opened her eyes, her breath caught in her throat. He didn’t look like Alexander Skarsgård, but this tasty morsel here… 

Wait, what was she thinking? The only thing she could think to do was forward the pictures to her bestie, Glenn, with the following message:

Biiiiitch...Call Catfish immediately!  This can’t be Ivar!!!!!

She didn’t care that it was 4am back home.  This was an emergency.

 As she waited for Glenn to respond, she found herself almost regretting having sent him real pictures of herself. Now he knew what she looked like. If he was catfishing her, he was going to have a field day. But, if he wasn’t, then he was going to be mighty disappointed.  

Their beauty ratios didn’t match. She had this theory on the attractiveness of couples and had broken them down into ratios of beauty: high:high; low:low; high:low; equally yoked. The only couples that could stand the test of time were those that were equally yoked. 

Two extremely beautiful people were destined to fail, (ie. Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt.) One would think that Nick & Priyanka Jonas would have taken the hint from their former beautiful couple predecessors. Cash gave them a good 10 years before they would crash and burn. They were just too pretty. Mirrors were destined to turn themselves inside out when they walked by. The world just wasn’t ready for all that sexy. 

On the flip side of that coin, two extremely unattractive people wouldn’t last long, either. Take her cousin Maq and his wife Crystal, for example. One day, they would both wake up and be sickened, because they would take a good look at one another and realize that might doom the world by having a baby. If they had a child with their collective genes, the planets might malign...stars might blink out of existence. It could be the end of the world as Cash knew it.

Then you had the high:low ratio couples. Those were the people where one person was really attractive and the other was, not so much…a la Jay-Z and Beyoncé. Yeah, they made cute kids, but Cash was sure one of them (and she was sure it wasn’t Beyoncé) probably always felt like the ugly duckling in that relationship.

If this was truly Ivar, they weren’t equally yoked. She wasn’t as jaw-droppingly sexy as he was. Granted, she thought she was pretty damn cute, but not like him. She wouldn’t put them on them Jay-Z: Beyoncé scale, but the scales of beauty were slightly tipped in his favor.  

What the fuck was she thinking? Here she had just flown to another continent to meet a guy she didn’t know from Adam, only to be set up by him pretending to be someone else. There was no way on God’s green earth that this sexy specimen of man was the guy she had been talking to for the last six months. If it was, he either had a girlfriend, 2 wives in 3 countries, 35 children, was a sadist, serial killer, drunk, drug addict, or he was on the run from Interpol, or all of the above. Cash’s life didn’t work that way.   

Men like him didn’t happen to her. Not without all the fine print. 

When Ivar’s phone chimed, he couldn’t hit the icon fast enough to see the photos Cash had sent him. He had wondered for so long what she looked like, no matter what it was she was going to be beautiful. He was sure of it. Even if Hvitserk liked to joke that she was probably looked like Floki in drag.

“What is that dumb look on your face?” Hvitserk handed Ivar his sandwich wrap and coffee, before sitting down to peel back the wrapper on his own food. He eyed his brother suspiciously when he shook his head.

Without making a sound, he snatched the phone out of the younger man’s hand and looked at the screen. “Wow…who is…Is this who you’re going to meet?” Hvitserk’s smile was huge and his chest swelled with pride for his little brother. “Well done,” his voice raising an octave in his approval. He couldn’t resist nudging Ivar with his elbow a few times. “You are finally gonna get laid,” he laughed, taking a big bite of his wrap ignoring the bits of lettuce falling on his lap.

Why was Hvitserk on this trip? More importantly, why couldn’t Ivar have been born an only child? There was no way he was going to get to know Cash better or get any alone time with her with him around. Ivar thought about killing him, but then he would have to explain it to his remaining brothers at home. “I have had sex before, Hvitserk.”

“Yeah, but if you haven’t done it in over 3 years, I think you go back to being a virgin,” Hvitserk responded with a mouth full of food. “I think I read that somewhere.” Hvitserk shook his wrap in Ivar’s direction, as he tried to recall the statistics.  

Hvitserk wasn’t going to go into what Ubbe had told him about Ivar’s ill-fated sex life. Ivar’s confession to Ubbe was supposed to be in confidence. But of course with Ubbe and Hvitserk being best friends, naturally, Ubbe shared their youngest brother’s woes, and then Hvitserk told Björn. So now they all knew about Ivar’s impotence.

Poor Ivar, they’d all thought. They all knew that when he tried to lose his virginity as a teenager, he was too nervous to "rise to the occasion". So, when the moment did finally happen, with his last girlfriend that they all lovingly (hated) referred to as, ‘that stuck up bitch’ Freydis, he was unable to reach a climax. And what did his ever so beautiful and loving (bitch) girlfriend, Freydis, do to try to help him in his situation? She stopped having sex with him, that’s what.  

Ivar had begged Ubbe to take him to the urologist, fearing that his disease was the cause of him not being able to sæd, or whatever the term was for it in English. But, the doctor told him that stress and anxiety were most likely the causes of his impotence and he needed to relax – maybe consider seeing a therapist. But, he wasn’t crazy – he didn’t need a shrink.  

What he needed was to get rid of his mounting case of blue balls that had him on edge 24/7.

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[fortheloveoffanfic]

Lullaby

Keanu Reeves x Reader (A/n- 2 more chapters to go.) Chapter Summary- Y/n and Daniel’s wedding draws closer. After her engagement party, Y/n pays Keanu a surprise visit. 

1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11  12  13  14

Chapter 15

2 Months Later It was funny, Y/n thought; how fast things could change, how much faster they could go back to being the same. Maybe she’d taken them for granted, maybe she should have appreciated it more. But it didn’t matter, soon, it would all just be a memory anyway. 

In a month and a half. Six weeks exactly 

By the rate things were moving at, that would be gone before she could blink and by then, Y/n would be a married woman. Mrs. Warren-Wang. It wasn’t the name she’d have chosen for herself, but then again, she hadn’t really chosen much when it came to what being married to Daniel would constitute. Her mother and Alice though, they’d had a field day making the arrangements. They’d chosen everything; from the big things like the perfect venue and the cake to little things like party favors and color schemes. They were so excited, and sometimes, Y/n wished that she was excited too, but really, she dreaded it. She was dreading her own wedding day.

When a large hand stationed itself at her back, pecking the side of her head, Y/n tried to blink away the weighty thoughts that seemed to sink her. Returning to the moment, Y/n drank in her surroundings as if it were the first time, even though she'd been there all night. They’d done a wonderful job, the decorators that her parents had hired; turning the grand ballroom at Delice into an indoor fairy tail; an artificial tree sprouted from the center of the room, its plastic branches stretching all around against the high ceiling, with twinkling fairy lights woven into the perpetually green leaves to combat the intentionally dimmed setting. In mason jars, centerpieces with light colored flowers and lone candles sat at the middle of round tables, scattered strategically about the room, on top of pristine white table cloths. It might have been the perfect engagement party, if Y/n actually wanted to be engaged. “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

Chuckling quietly, Y/n couldn’t help but blush. At least he was a sweetheart, it could be worse. “You have, but I don’t mind hearing it again,” turning in his embrace, Y/n looked at Daniel through her thick lashes. He was her future, whether she loved him or not. She was learning to though, maybe. They’d only recently moved in together, in a place his parents had gifted them, just one street over from where Y/n grew up and she was beginning to find that he wasn’t terrible to share a home with; he respected her opinions and never made a decision without running it by her. 

“Well,” he grinned, “You look absolutely stunning,” leaning down, Daniel caught her lips in a sweet kiss, and on instinct, Y/n reciprocated, flattening her palm of the lapel of his black suit coat, “I love you,” he murmured when they pulled apart. 

Y/n wasn’t sure if she would ever get used to saying those words to him, but for the sake of making things easier, she hoped she could. “I love you too,” it felt foreign, saying it to Daniel, and every time she did, Y/n a painful pang in her chest followed by the unshakable feeling that she was betraying Keanu, the man she really loved. 

He had taken her engagement in stride, though Y/n could see that even if he didn’t tell her, it bothered him. They’d stopped going out, to avoid being seen in public and really, the only place they ever met up was at his house, after days of planning in advance. Keanu had, unfortunately, become her dirty secret. 

“Your parents want us to say a few words before everyone starts leaving,” no wonder they liked him so much, he was always willing to do whatever they asked. “Shall we?”

Y/n nodded slightly, letting Daniel lead her to the head table, up at the front of the room. Unlike the rest, their table was long and rectangular, similar floral pieces dominating the center of the furniture, occasionally punctuated by picturesque platters of sugary delights; macaroons that obeyed the theme and little round cakes with swirls of champagne flavored frosting on top. Behind their table on the raised portion of the large room, hung white and pink drapes, flowing effortlessly with floral garlands holding it in place at the top. 

Taking their places, Y/n stood next to Daniel, looking at the perfect picture of a doting fiancee, graciously accepting a glass of champagne as someone else handed him a microphone. When he pulled out a chair for her, Y/n smoothed the back of her ankle length, rose gold dress, the thick glittering bands running vertically along the garment rough beneath her fingers. Like everything else, the dress was her mother’s choice; long, stylish, billowy sleeves and a generous ‘v’ neck with a slit that exposed most of her legs when she sat, and finally a gold belt at her waist. Y/n was sure that her mother would be choosing her wedding dress too.

Maybe she should be the one getting married.

When Daniel reached for her left hand, Y/n let him take it, trying to smile lightly as he cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention. “Ladies and gentleman,” he glanced around; all eyes were on him before long. He was like that, Y/n had found, able to command a room easily; charismatic, charming and strikingly handsome, women wanted him and men wanted to be like him. “It has been a great pleasure to be able to celebrate our engagement with you, and Y/n and I are both so grateful that we’ve gotten to share this time. But I’d like to keep you for just a minute more, so I can propose a toast to my lovely fiancee,” just after bending to kiss the back of her hand, he let to go to raise his glass, “Y/n,” he looked to her, “You are incredibly beautiful, inspiringly intelligent and everyday spent with you has been adventure, which is why I can not wait to make you my wife; so we we can spend the rest of our lives together, going new adventures, building new experiences and loving each other. To my love; Y/n.”

Just as he sat Daniel kissed her quickly and the guests cooed  quietly and when they broke, Y/n could feel all eyes on her, expecting her adoration for her groom-to-be next. What was she supposed to say anyway? As she stood, Y/n inhaled sharply, her heart thumping erratically when nothing fruitful would come. That was when the idea came to her; just say to him what she would to Keanu; should be easy right?

Right.

“Daniel,” with no time to waste, Y/n dove right in, trying to make the whole thing more realistic, “I don’t think that I could have gotten luckier; you chose me, and for that I will always be honored. I never thought that it was possible for me to love a man the way I love you, but still everyday,” it was much harder than she initially thought it would be; singing praises of love and adoration to a man she barely felt for. As she continued, with Keanu in her head, wishing that it was him there instead, Y/n’s eyes stung and her throat burnt, the emotion too heavy to be quelled. Maybe they’d think it was happy tears. Maybe she’d break down right there and prove them wrong. “Everyday, my love for you grows. You are better, so much better, so much more, than anything I could ever have dreamed to have in a husband.” Y/n’s tongue longed to say Keanu’s name, but she held it, even as the tears now flowed freely and she sniffled noisily, “Daniel,” Y/n breathed deeply, “Thank you for being everything a girl could want, and if I love you the way I do now, I can’t wait to see how much I’ll love you tomorrow, and everyday after that.”

An attendant took the mic and as Y/n sat again, their guests cheered. “See,” Heather leaned in, close to Y/n’s ear, “That wasn’t so hard now wasn’t it?” Swallowing thickly as warm tears tangled in her lashes, blurring her sight, Y/n kept her head trained forward, barely able to nod at her mother’s venomous words. 

The pictures had already started to make its rounds on the internet and Keanu needed a glass of whiskey just to look at them. Y/n, his Y/n, in the arms of another, who surely couldn’t love her the way he did. Maybe it was selfish, maybe it was wrong, but Keanu just wished that she could leave Daniel and be with him; forgo her responsibilities and they could be together, without having to hide. It should have been him after all; he should be the one at her side in those pictures, who she was going to marry. But Keanu couldn’t ask Y/n to do that, he could never hurt her by requesting that she leave everything she knew just for him. 

If only love could be enough.

He hadn’t realized that his eyes had grown tear filled until a knocking at the door had him hastily swiping at them as he stood. Tossing his phone to the sofa, Keanu padded barefoot towards the door, gasping quietly at the sight on the other side of it.

“Hi,” she sobbed, one word enough to tell him how broken she felt, her lips quivering and tears falling freely. A cab was just pulling off the curb, signaling that more than likely, no one knew where she was, at least for now. “I hate this,” Y/n’s voice broke and she ran her hands anxiously through her freed hair. Still dressed for the engagement party, though with slightly smudged make-up, red eyes and stained cheeks. Still Keanu thought that, without fail, Y/n was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever been lucky enough to lay eyes on, “I hate this so much.”

“It's okay,” he gritted his teeth, trying to suppress his own tears as he pulled Y/n against his chest, kissing her hair as he rubbed her back soothingly, “It’s gonna be okay sweetheart.”

“No, it's not,” she blubbered, hugging him back and burying her face into his old t-shirt, finding comfort in his smell and the way his heartbeat felt against her cheek, “I….I just…” Nothing would come, what could she say that he didn’t already know? 

Keanu thought if his soul could be shredded to pieces, then that was what it would feel like. His heart was in his throat and all he wanted, right then and there, was to make everything better for Y/n; to dry her tears and ensure that no ill fate ever befell her. He wanted to be her knight in shining armor and the person she could rest her head next to at night. But he couldn’t be that, he might never be that. Feeling completely helpless to her plight, Keanu led them inside, stopping short in the hallway, “I’m so sorry,” a lone tear escaped his whiskey orb, so much more still kept painfully at bay. Keanu felt like he’d failed her somehow; Y/n had meant more to him than most and he couldn’t protect her from what she’d been running from.

Y/n didn’t pull away, but her tears slowed, the security that he offered enough to make her feel better, even for a bit, “It’s not your fault,” her reassurance was meek, but he knew that it wasn’t how she meant it.

“What can I do?” Keanu pulled her away for a minute, surveying her disheveled form, brushing some hair from her face, only to gently cup her cheek.

Y/n’s fingers slid from his forearms, gliding over his broad shoulders as they made their way to cup his neck, “Make me forget,” her whispered words drew him in as Y/n stepped closer, “Just for a little bit, I want to forget. I just want it to be us, please.” Arching upwards, Y/n initiated their kiss, her lips soft and tasting of champagne and something tart, like lemon. 

Keanu easily took the control she offered him, letting her bloom against him as she responded to his touch; nothing too much just yet, merely steadying hands on her hips. Tilting her head, Y/n slowly rounded her arms around his neck, standing on the toes of her strappy gold heels as she melted into his broad chest. Her tears went dry and no more came as they continued, his tongue gently passing over hers, one of his hands slowly descending to her lower back. “Are you sure?” He broke their kiss momentarily. Y/n had initiated it, but she was in a less than favorable metal state and Keanu didn’t want to take advantage of her.  

“Yeah, please,” she whimpered, trying to close the space between them again. 

“Okay,” Keanu breathed, catching Y/n’s swollen lips once again, that time in a slower, more sensual kiss. He poured his breath, his love and maybe even part of his soul into her, already establishing that the night would go by slowly. The world would humor them; stop its chaotic spin for a bit and they’d be privileged with a handful of sacred moments, so they could indulge each other in what was not meant to be. 

That night, as Keanu hoisted Y/n up into his arms, the lengthy cut in her dress allowing for her legs to easily tangle around his waist, he thought that Y/n didn’t deserve anything less than being appreciated and attended to, slowly and completely. She deserved his all, and Keanu was going to give it to her.

Upstairs, in his bedroom, where pale yellowish light from the harvest washed the hardwood in a somber pool at their feet, his steady palms guided Y/n so her back would be to him and after a lingered moment, he swept her tresses away from the back of her neck, pressing a warm, chaste, whiskey flavored kiss there, breathing her intoxicating scent as his stocky fingers led the discreet zipper of her dress down her spine.

The shimmery fabric settled around her feet, and her strapless bra followed by her lacy panties were next. Naked with the exception of her heeled sandals, Keanu urged Y/n to sit on his made bed, immediately getting on his knees after he made short work of stripping himself, taking a gentle hold of one ankle. A calloused, yet calmingly familiar touch rose goosebumps on Y/n’s skin as Keanu slowly worked on her shoes, dumping it to the side afterwards. 

It was a daunting task, but as his lips sought upwards, from the inner side of her leg, Y/n and Keanu maintained eye contact in the near darkness. Arguably, they were past the point of needing light to maintain their connection, it was always there, it would always be; Keanu was sure that he could find Y/n, even if the world had been plunged into pitch darkness. His open-mouthed, leisurely endearments sent shivers up her spine and electrified her nerves. 

Keanu’s touch, the way his body knew Y/n’s was incomparable; he was permanently in tune with what she needed, always eager to put her needs first. In turn, her breaths were shallow and audible, each hitch easily made out in the near silence and her gasps giving him life. 

With one hand supporting his weight, Keanu occupied the other by letting it roam appreciatively up her body. His longing erection brushed her silky heat when he finally ducked to reach her neck, the scent of her perfume still clung to her skin, drawing him in, the ends of his overgrown mane tickling her cheek. 

"Keanu," Y/n mewled, her warm breath gently blowing her hair, her hands sliding up his bare back, his skin surprisingly cool beneath her tender touch.

"What do you want, baby?" He worked his way down again, his lips circling her breast, his tongue swirling around her hardened nipple, eliciting a needy moan from her ajar lips. With his free hand, Keanu favored her other boob, his gropes gently and slow. 

The ball of Y/n's heels skimmed the back of his calves before tangling with his thighs, urging his hips towards hers, “You,” she breathed sharply, “All I want is you.”

All she ever wanted was Keanu.

If after the worst of the worst, he was all that was left, her world would still be complete. 

Complying after a minute, Keanu eased into her inch by inch, raising himself slightly off Y/n so he could admire the way her jaw hung slack. Finally nestled deep inside the tightness of her drenched heat, Keanu let a throaty groan leave his lips, low and appreciative. Y/n always fit so well with him; like two puzzle pieces that only made sense if they were put together.  

After a prolonged moment of just absorbing the feeling of Y/n enveloping him, Keanu, at an unhurried pace, started rolling his hips, his pace easy for her to keep up with. Clinging to him, with her arms reaching around for his shoulders, Y/n’s erratic breathing matched his and occasionally, her hips would buck to meet his. Their shadows danced on the dimmed walls, and they were so intertwined, it was hard to tell their bodies apart.

Progressively, the heat around them built, swirling with the heavy cloud of emotion, bringing with it, a light sheen to their skin. Time seemed to pass in slow motion, and something about those cherished moments felt vastly different from the ordinary; as if there was more depth to the act, like that much love had never been shared between them. Neither of Y/n nor Keanu wanted it to end, though, eventually, Y/n was gasping raggedly as she came around him, her clenching walls milking his member. Keanu wasn’t too far off, spilling his hot seed deep inside her, his rigid thrusts punctuated by low grunts and their tangled praises.  

Untangling was slow and graciously incomplete; Keanu rolled over to his side, one of Y/n’s legs still hooked over his waist. The natural light wasn’t enough to define their features, but still, Y/n thought that she could see Keanu clearly as she cupped the side of his face, the warm center of her palm over his ear; some of his hair laced with her her fingers while the pad of her thumb skimmed the laugh lines near his eyes; the evidence of a live well lived. Their noses barely touched and any closer might constitute their lashes tangling. 

“I don’t ever want to be without you,” her whispered admission accompanied glassy eyes and the knowledge that her desires may never be more than fiction.

Still, Keanu was clung to hope that they’d been in the best of graces and things could look up. Or maybe he just didn’t want to see her hurt again. “You will never be without me,” he reassured, bringing her face towards his, so he could seal his promise with a kiss. Keanu hated knowing that his assurances might one day be revealed to be empty, they couldn’t go on like that forever, but a voice in his head, so soft it was almost silent, seemed persistent in the belief that somehow, he would in fact, maintain a part of her life. 

Maybe it was right and they just didn’t know it; maybe he’d always be with her.

******

Tagging- @harrisongslimited​  @paanchu786​  @a-really-bi-girl​  @baphometwolf666 @sdaff2   @green-forest-dreams @weird-civilian @magnificentclodpiebanana

[anotherkpopvictim]

Into a New World (Through the Gate) - BTS OT7 Fantasy Story Chapter 1

(Pic Source - Jaiho? (I found this on a pinterest but I don’t think it was this person’s) ((Edit is by me tho))

A/N: Hi, so, this is a multi-chaptered story that I’ve had swirling around in my head for a while. I’m not sure how many chapters it’s going to be, and I’m not sure how often I’ll update (especially because I have a few other stories I need to update first) but I will finish this story one way or another.

Happy Birthday, our Hobi <3

Relationship: BTS X BTS

Rating: T (for now)

Words: 2928

Hurt/comfort, fluff, fantasy

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Chapter 1: The Banishing

Worldbuilding Notes on Fairies:

The origin of how fairies came to be is rather unknown. Their attributes and used honorifics suggest they are of Korean descent.

Fairies can be creatures of trickery. Though not inherently evil, fairies possess the ability to manipulate easily if they so please (not all use this ability, though). While they can also sometimes use aura reading to detect whether someone is lying or not, a fairy’s downfall is that they themselves cannot lie. Despite this, they are talented at twisting words and finding loopholes in different situations.

A Fairy’s magic ability is similar to that of witches, but it is easier for them to learn as they are born with a close connection to magic itself, while witches spend years and years learning to connect with magic. Fairies are often good spies as they have their smaller form that can easily hide. Fairies are born with a given color - the color of their hair and eyes. These colors represent common personality traits (though not always 100% accurate from person to person, and not all fairies have all the traits the colors represent). A mix of two or more colors just means that the person has personality traits of multiple colors (i.e. a very dark blue would have traits of both blue and black).

(Link to the basis of color symbolism I’m using - https://www.color-meanings.com/)

Colors and their meanings:

(This part is optional to read, but I will be using this as a basis for fairy personalities in the story)

Red - The color of passion and energy. Red draws attention like no other color and radiates a strong and powerful energy that motivates us to take action. It is also linked to sexuality and stimulates deep and intimate passion.

Orange - The color of enthusiasm and emotion. Orange exudes warmth and joy and is considered a fun color that provides emotional strength. It is optimistic and uplifting, adds spontaneity and positivity to life, and encourages social communication and creativity. It is a youthful and energetic color.

Yellow - The color of happiness and optimism. Yellow is a cheerful and energetic color that brings fun and joy to the world. It makes learning easier as it affects the logical part of the brain, stimulating mentality and perception. It inspires thought and curiosity and boosts enthusiasm and confidence.

Green - The color of harmony and health. Green is a generous, relaxing color that revitalizes our body and mind. It balances our emotions and leaves us feeling safe and secure. It also gives us hope, with promises of growth and prosperity, and it provides a little bit of luck to help us along the way.

Blue - The color of trust and loyalty. Blue has a calming and relaxing effect on our psyche, that gives us peace and makes us feel confident and secure. It dislikes confrontation and too much attention, but it is an honest, reliable, and responsible color and you can always count on its support.

Purple - The color of spirituality and imagination. Purple inspires us to divulge our innermost thoughts, which enlightens us with the wisdom of who we are and encourages spiritual growth. It is often associated with royalty and luxury, and its mystery and magic sparks creative fantasies.

Pink - The color of love and compassion. Pink is kind and comforting, full of sympathy and compassion, and makes us feel accepted. Its friendly, playful spirit calms and nurtures us, bringing joy and warmth into our lives. Pink is also a feminine and intuitive color that is bursting with pure romance.

White - The color of purity and innocence. White is a true balance of all colors and is associated with cleanliness, simplicity, and perfection. It loves to make others feel good and provides hope and clarity by refreshing and purifying the mind. It also promotes open-mindedness and self-reflection.

Black - The color of power and sophistication. Black is an incredibly strong and intimidating color that exudes authority and makes us feel secure and protected. Often seen at formal and prestigious events, this mysterious marvel arouses and seduces our senses with its elegance and sexiness.

Gray - The color of compromise and control. Gray is neutral, conservative, and unemotional. It is practically solid as a rock, making it incredibly stable, reliable, and calming. It has a peaceful, relaxing and soothing presence. Gray avoids attention but offers mature, insightful advice to anyone who asks.

Brown - The color of stability and reliability. Brown is dependable and comforting. A great counselor and friend full of wisdom. You can count on its help if you need an honest opinion, support, and protection. It stabilizes us, helps us stay grounded, and inspires us to appreciate the simple things in life.

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Hoseok listened to his older brother babble on to the other five high council members, trying to manifest the courage to speak up to him about what had been weighing him down since the last meeting.

Minseok, his brother, was not a bad person. However, he also wasn’t necessarily a good person either. As the crowned King of the Fairy Kingdom of Aurora, he wasn’t the worst candidate in their long history, not by a long shot. Hoseok had watched him exile a butler after he brought him an indigo-colored robe instead of a dark purple one by accident, but had also seen him send fresh-baked loaves of bread to the orphanage nearby as a treat for the children. He was a man capable of coming up with creative solutions but sometimes allowed his power and authority to cloud his judgment.

An enigma, his brother most certainly was.

This was why Hoseok was so nervous to bring up the topic on his mind. He wasn’t sure how Minseok was going to react, though no one ever really knew. Nevertheless, he needed to give it a try, for the good of their people.

“King Minseok,” Hoseok addressed, standing up from his seat when a lull came in the conversation. He bowed politely towards his brother. “There is a concern of mine that I needed to bring up, brother.”

The older man with a head full of shocking dark purple hair and eyes the same color looked at him curiously. “Yes, Hoseok-ah. What is the matter, brother?”

Hoseok gulped against the lump forming in his throat and forced himself to speak. His brother was being kind right now, but he knew the man could turn on a dime. “The army, brother. They have been urging us for some time now to give the soldiers more time before sending them to war.”

Minseok raised an eyebrow, “We have an alliance with the jinns, a promise to fight with them against the demons.”

“I know, my King,” Hoseok replied. “But our soldiers are being slaughtered on the battlefield. If we could change the laws in place and give them a few more months of training to build up their skills-”

“So, what you’re saying is that I should spend more money and time on our soldiers when the war they are fighting isn’t to be a long one?” The King asked, interrupting Hoseok’s words.

It was predicted that the jinns were going to win the war with the demons, though it was a slow process. “We’ve lost thousands of our citizens, Minseok-hyung.” Hoseok urged. “Lives were lost when they could have lived if only they had more skills and endurance. The captains have been coming to us since they realized the pattern months ago.”

Minseok furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance. “We already give so many resources to the military, we don’t have anything to spare.”

“We’ll find some, we’ll find a way-”

“ENOUGH!” Minseok boomed, standing up from the throne and slamming his hands down on the table. “The way the laws are written right now give our soldiers plenty of time to refine their skills before they are sent off to fight. More soldiers come back than don’t and that’s more than we could ask for. I will not spend another second on this unimportant topic when there are other issues to be resolved.”

“But, hyung,” Hoseok pleaded. He knew he should just shut up, but the worried words of the captains wouldn’t leave his mind. “Perhaps you could just allow some of the captains to tell you their worries personally. I really think that we need to-”

Minseok’s dark purple hair began to lift around his golden crown, glowing and sparking with magic. That was when Hoseok knew it was over for him.

“Hoseok-ssi, you know better than to talk back to your King!” his brother hissed.

“Hyung, my King, I’m sorry-”

“You’re banished!”

Hoseok nearly choked. “W-What?”

“I’m banishing you from Aurora. How dare you rebel against the King!” Minseok raged, motioning for guards to grab onto Hoseok.

Hoseok could see the anger in his brother’s eyes, the betrayal, and knew that there was no changing the crazed, overdramatic sentence given to him.

“Minseok,” Hoseok looked at his brother with one final plea, “Please don’t do this. I didn’t mean to offend you in any way.”

Minseok snarled, his bright purple hair starting to glow and move as his power began to build up inside of him. “You’ve betrayed the crown. You’ve betrayed me. There is no place in Aurora for you any longer.”

Hoseok bent his head, knowing that his brother had truly made his decision and nothing he could say would change his mind. His own shocking orange hair lay flat against his head, no spark of power anywhere to be found - a sure sign of any fairy’s defeat.

The five councilmen who were occupying the table with the two brothers sat in silence, eyes sympathetic as they watched Hoseok being escorted out of the room.

There were ten guards that led them towards the Gate that was situated just outside the castle walls, two of them holding onto Hoseok’s arms like he was going to even try to get away. He knew better than that.

A misty, swirling wall of fog lay just behind the golden bars of the Gate. Hoseok could only watch with a defeated look in his eyes as his brother opened the right door of the Gate and then turned to look at him.

“Jung Hoseok, you are hereby banished from Aurora under my authority, King Minseok of the Fairy Kingdom. Shall you ever choose to return, you will be greeted with death.” Minseok snarled out his brother’s sentence with such malice it made Hoseok cringe. Then the King turned to the two guards holding Hoseok’s arms and ordered, “Throw him through the Gate.”

Hoseok, whose heart was racing with fear in his chest, didn’t fight the two men at all. As he was forced forward, he shut his eyes tightly and braced himself. He merely accepted his fate as he was pushed harshly into the swirling fog.

Now, Hoseok had never traveled worlds before, so he hadn’t ever experienced what it was like to go through a Gate before.

At first, it felt as if he was falling at a great speed, the breath snatched from his lungs. Then, he suddenly felt himself slow down before dropping onto some sort of hard surface.

Laying on the ground, Hoseok was reluctant to open his eyes. He knew that he must be on Earth now, as Earth was the center of the worlds, but he didn’t know exactly where. He couldn’t hear much besides the ruffling of some leaves in the breeze and birds chirping happily. The temperature was slightly cooler than he was used to, and his attire of matching silk shorts and a shirt certainly didn’t do anything to keep him warm.

Taking in a brave breath, Hoseok opened his eyes and took in the scene before him. He was in a forest lush with tall, green trees. Pretty blue flowers bloomed in patches on the ground, bringing Hoseok a bit of relief. Surely the place couldn’t be too bad if there were beautiful flowers blooming, right?

From Hoseok’s limited knowledge of Earth, he knew that it was the center of the realms and welcomed those of all supernatural backgrounds. While most supernatural beings had their own realm to call home, there were a few that didn’t. Vampires, shapeshifters, and witches lived primarily on Earth. Creatures like jinns, goblins, demons, and yes, fairies, all had their own realm.

Gates only existed between Earth and these worlds, but they were plentiful all across the Earth. Most Gates were situated in Gate Stations (just like a train station) but there were some that were simply situated in the middle of nowhere.

Of course, it appeared that Minseok had to make things even more difficult for his brother by sending him somewhere obscure. Hoseok hadn’t had the chance to see exactly where he was sending him to. A childish move on the older man’s part.

“Well, gosh marbles!” Hoseok shouted into the trees as he stood up and dusted himself off. “What am I going to do now?”

Where was he to go? What was he to do? The Fairy Kingdom was all he had known his whole life.

“E-Excuse me?”

Hoseok yelped with a start at the sudden voice, his head whipping around to find the source. He caught sight of a young-looking man peeking out from behind one of the trees to his left. He had big, curious doe eyes and didn’t appear to be much of a threat, but Hoseok knew from experience not to let his guard down.

“W-Who are you?” he asked, kicking himself when he stuttered.

The young man came out from behind the tree, revealing his all-black ensemble; jeans, a leather jacket, and some army boots. Hoseok remembered reading that fashion was quite different on Earth, but he was still surprised. “I’m Jungkook. Who are you?”

(JKs look) (except no beanie)

“Hoseok,” he replied cautiously.

“Did you just come through the Gate?” Jungkook asked, head tilting towards said Gate right behind Hoseok.

“Yes.”

Jungkook hummed thoughtfully. “No one’s come through that Gate in years.”

“Oh...” Hoseok said intelligently. “Um, could you perhaps tell me where I am?”

“Well, I would assume you at least know that you’re on Earth, but more specifically, you’re just outside of Seoul, South Korea.”

“South Korea...” Hoseok repeated, wracking his brain for anything he knew about this place. He knew that he’d heard of it, but he wasn’t sure where from.

“You’re a fairy, right?” Jungkook asked, rather excitedly. “Many fairies seem to have Korean in their blood. So technically, you’re in your ancient homeland!”

Ah, Hoseok thought, that makes sense. Fairies were rather sheltered about things outside of their own Kingdom, so while Hoseok had heard that they were possibly descendants of Earth’s South Korea, he didn’t know much about it at all.

Hoseok blinked at the smiling young man before him, whose grin and scrunched-up nose made him look uncannily like a rabbit, not to mention his adorable front teeth.

“Ah, sorry!” Jungkook turned a little sheepish. “Ever since my Jimin-hyung came, I’ve really wanted to meet another fairy so badly!”

Hoseok didn’t have time to register that apparently, South Koreans used the same honorifics as fairies, as the more important part of the young man’s statement caught Hoseok’s attention. “You know another fairy?”

“Mhm,” Jungkook nodded his head dutifully, his shaggy dark brown hair bobbing up and down with it. “Jiminie’s color is pink. And he lives with us.”

“Us?”

“Me and my hyungs! There are six of us. We live just a couple miles away from here.” Jungkook answered with a fond smile.

“A pack, huh?” Hoseok gave the young man a once-over when he realized he had no idea what creature Jungkook was. “Are you...human?”

Jungkook shook his head before opening his mouth and pointing at some very tiny but pointy incisors that hadn’t been there a moment ago. “I’m a vampire, like my Yoongi-hyung. I was obviously a human, though, before he saved me.” Jungkook’s smile faded a bit as he seemed to get lost in a memory.

“A little vamp, I see,” Hoseok replied, feeling like he needed to lighten the mood. “How old are you?”

“I’ve been a vampire for seven years, and I was twenty-three when I was turned.” A pretty young vampire then. Hoseok had read about vampires who lived to be thousands of years old.

“Well,” Hoseok began with a gentle smile, “I’m one hundred thirty-eight, so I guess that makes me your hyung.”

Jungkook let out a sigh of relief. “Good, I don’t like being a hyung.”

Hoseok chuckled at the younger’s adorableness before he remembered where he was and what had conspired for him to be here.

Jungkook must have noticed his expression sadden because he gave a little gasp. “Hoseok-hyung, do you need somewhere to stay? I’m sure my hyungs wouldn’t mind housing you for now.”

Hoseok honestly questioned the young man. Who in their right mind invited a total stranger into their home? Jungkook the baby vampire, apparently. Hoseok doubted that he had any nefarious ulterior motives for inviting him, as fairies were fairly good at reading others and he didn’t sense anything from him, but it was strange nonetheless.

However, Hoseok really didn’t have anywhere to go or any money to get a place to stay. He’d been thrown out of the only world he’s ever known and didn’t know what he was supposed to do. And he was tired, just plain tired from the eventful day.

So, he gave the only answer he really could.

“I would love a place to stay, Jungkook-ah.”

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A/N: So...what did you think?

I’ve never written anything in the fantasy genre but I’ve been loving so many fantasy fics lately that I just had to take a try at it. I don’t know much about the specifics of the different supernatural creatures in legends and such, so these will mostly be of my own making, but with some common traits you probably know.

Please do not expect me to update this for a while, as I need to update a few other stories first, but I will not abandon this fic.

I tried to make it clear that Hoseok’s brother, Minseok, has an unstable mentality, and thus feeling like his brother betrayed him over something rather ridiculous and banishing him seemed reasonable to him. 

Please leave comments and likes as they fuel my motivation to write exponentially <3 And if you have any suggestions now or in future chapters for what you would like to see, I would love the ideas and will try to work them into the story (though I don’t have much solidly planned just yet anyways).

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So far we know:

Seokjin - ?

Yoongi - Vampire

Hoseok - Fairy (138)

Namjoon - ?

Jimin - Fairy

Taehyung - ?

Jungkook - Vampire (30)

(I think you’ll meet the others in the next chapter!)

[ripley95]

Echoes of Old Embers

Chapter 4

Pairing: F!Shepard/Kaidan Alenko

Rating: T

Chapter length: 4.6K

Story Tags: friends to lovers, mini slow burn, angst

Story Synopsis:

After surviving the war, one of Shepard’s biggest regrets was rejecting Kaidan at Apollo’s. Fate has a way of bringing Jane and Kaidan back into each other’s lives. A misunderstanding with his family makes Kaidan and Shepard relive old history and question where they stand.

Link to Chapter 1 on AO3

Chapter Synopsis:

Kaidan and Shepard make their way to his family home on the orchard. Shepard finally meets Kaidan’s family.

Link to Chapter 4 on AO3

Tumblr Links:

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14

Read the chapter here below the cut:

Shepard was looking out the window, admiring the view from Kaidan’s rental skycar. They were well on their way to the orchard. The sky was relatively empty heading towards the Okanagan, not much traffic getting in the way of the scenery. They passed beautiful mountainscapes still covered in snow. The whole journey into the interior was more scenic than she was expecting. BC offered a lot of Earth’s beauty, and she figured she’d try to enjoy what she could from this trip. ‘Try’ was the operative word there, still thinking this plan was a mistake. She bounced her uninjured leg nervously, contemplating how difficult this week was about to be. Something Kaidan seemed to be picking up on the closer they got to the orchard.

“You alright there, Shepard? You look like you’re getting a little restless.”

“You could say that,” she said, looking over at him with a smirk. “If you’ll recall, you forced me to drink two whole bottles of water before we left, not to mention my coffee. I think I’m ready for a pit stop.” It was the truth, but she’d be lying if that was the whole reason behind her lively leg. She was getting more and more nervous, the closer they got to their destination.

Kaidan smirked at her. “Sorry about that. Maybe I should have let you pace the water a bit, but I still think you’ll end up thanking me for it later. Think you can hold it, though? The orchard’s only a couple minutes away.”

“Already?”

“Yup. Just over that hill up there,” he said, pointing ahead of them.

“Well, in that case, I’m pretty sure I can hold it.” Her leg continued to bounce impatiently, despite what she said.

They rode in silence the rest of the way. It really wasn’t far off at this point, and the thought of it only put her more on edge. Any minute now, she’d be meeting Kaidan’s family. Yet another thing that reeked of intimacy. This was something that people who were romantically involved did, and yet again, she felt as though she was stealing someone else’s place that should have been here instead of her. Kaidan wasn’t fazed at all as she glanced back towards him. He was just steering the car with a wistful smile.

No matter how he might have felt about their relationship, he was still here for a celebration and to get to be here for his sister on her special day. He would be welcoming someone new into his family. It at least made her happy that he was getting the chance to experience this. She knew this was going to be a stressful week for herself, but seeing the look on his face made her feel better about it.

Just like that, they were already making their descent. Kaidan was right, the ride was short. They made a soft landing on a patch of grass in front of the house. She practically bounced out of the car with her nervous energy. Kaidan went to the trunk to grab the bags. As Shepard reached for hers, he quickly intercepted it, and she looked at him questioningly.

“You know I can carry my own bag, right? I’m not that debilitated.”

“Maybe not, but after what I saw this morning, I don’t want you to be adding any unnecessary weight on that leg,” he said, taking the bag and putting the strap over his shoulder.

Shepard chuckled at that. Always the caretaker. She just wasn’t used to relying on anyone else to make things easier for her. “I guess I can’t argue with that. After you,” she finally agreed as she directed her hand towards the house, still fidgeting a bit thanks to her need to go to the bathroom.

He made his way up the steps and waited for Shepard to follow after him. “Well, I hope you’re ready to meet my family. I’m warning you now, they can be a bit much,” he said with a laugh, his hand hovering over the doorbell.

“I’m sure they’re fine. Even if I wasn’t ready, though, I’m about to pee my pants if this waits any longer.”

“Right,” he said with a smirk as he rang the bell.

As they waited, Shepard examined their surroundings. This was where Kaidan was raised. His childhood home. She never had anything like that, always changing ships, or being dropped off at boarding school while her mother was on active duty. She could see the appeal of having a place to always call home, not to mention being raised close to nature. It must have been nice, not that she begrudged her own upbringing by any means. It was just different. The house was very classic looking, made out of real wood, layered in soft hues of paint with a large porch on the front of the house that they were currently standing on. The property was stunning and bigger than she expected. Well kept, too, barely any signs of the war leftover. She didn’t really know what to expect when she agreed to come out here, but she was pleasantly surprised that they already managed to have it looking so good after the end of the war.

One of the windows must have been open, because they heard some shuffling from inside, followed by someone yelling.

“Kaidan’s here!!” they heard before there was a large commotion of thumping.

That made Shepard look at Kaidan, surprised. She wasn’t expecting such a reaction from an Alenko. She had envisioned them to be reserved and quiet. Then again, her only example to go off of was him, so that wasn’t necessarily a fair assessment.

“That was Maisie. She can be… enthusiastic. Acts like a teenager, even though she’s well into her twenties already. Like I said, they can be a bit much.”

“Ah,” Shepard said with a nod, still a little surprised from the complete contrast to Kaidan.

“I’ve already got it, Maisie. Calm down,” they heard someone shout back before the door opened.

Shepard got the briefest glimpse of the woman opening the door, before a blur of colour shot right past her. Said blur of colour jumped onto Kaidan, hugging him with what looked like the force of a death-grip. Kaidan promptly dropped the bags in his hands as he staggered backwards, nearly falling down the steps.

The woman that opened the door walked outside onto the porch, looking like she was trying to greet her brother as well. She had strikingly similar features to Kaidan, the same dark hair and eyes. There wasn’t any denying that they were related, likely Raiya, the oldest, if Shepard had to guess. There was something about her serious disposition that screamed maturity. She made eye contact with Shepard, and she stopped dead in her tracks. There was an expression of shock at seeing who Kaidan brought with him as his plus one. Shepard waved awkwardly as Kaidan’s younger sister was still dramatically hugging her brother.

“Aaah, I missed you so much. You’re the only cool sibling, you know that?!”

“I’m standing right here, Maisie,” the older sister said, finally moving her attention away from Shepard.

“Oh yeah. Forget I said that,” Maisie said, finally lowering herself from the hug, not even noticing the awkward silence filling the air behind her.

“The only reason you say that is because I’m the one gone long enough for you to miss me, you know,” Kaidan said as he smiled at her. It was one of warmth that looked like he was happy to be home, seeing his family again. Shepard couldn’t help but notice how good it looked on him.

Suddenly, the sound of a dish dropping came from one of the rooms in the house, prompting everyone to turn towards the noise. Shepard had a perfect view, noticing two other women in what looked to be a dining room just past the main foyer. Both of them stood there, staring. That must have been Kaidan’s mother and Libby. All of the Alenkos shared similar features, no denying their relation. Libby was acting flustered for having just dropped the dish as she bent to pick it up. Luckily it didn’t actually break, and they were examining if anything could be salvaged. Shepard couldn’t help but think she seemed a little perturbed, too. That was terrific. She was already making a horrible first impression, causing people to drop dishes.

With the commotion drawing everyone’s attention, Maisie was the last one to finally see Shepard standing there. “Holy shit,” she muttered out. She also had that trademark Alenko black hair, but hers had streaks of bright blue and pink running through it. From what little Shepard knew of her, she could already tell it matched her colourful personality.

All eyes were on Jane now, as she stood there awkwardly, immediately prompting her to look towards Kaidan. “I guess you forgot to tell them I was coming?” she said with a nervous laugh. She was usually the picture of confidence, able to keep her cool, yet somehow having the attention of all of the Alenko women on her was enough to make her anxious.

“Uh,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “I told everyone I was using my plus one last night.”

“Yeah, sure, but none of us believed you!” Maisie said, hitting Kaidan in the abdomen with the back of her hand playfully.

“You also left out who it was that you were bringing,” Raiya cut in, sounding much less enthused than her lively sister.

“I didn’t think I had to,” Kaidan said, sounding a bit confused about everyone’s reaction.

“You didn’t think we’d be interested in knowing you were dating Commander Shepard?!” Maisie cut in sharply.

That made both Kaidan and Shepard go wide-eyed at each other, their mouths agape.

“That’s not- I never-” Kaidan said, stumbling over his words.

He was interrupted by the sound of Libby sniffling, and Kaidan’s mother comforting her and bringing her back into the kitchen.

Shepard stared at Kaidan in a way that was begging for help. Somehow, everything that could have gone wrong was going wrong and then some. She had no idea what to do in this situation, and she still had to go to the bathroom.

“Uh, right, Shepard has to use the bathroom,” he said, picking up their bags, and guiding her through the doorway and down the hall, his hand resting on her lower back.

“Aww, how cute! He calls her Shepard,” Maisie squeaked from behind them.

Kaidan dropped the bags by the bathroom door and gently grasped her shoulder to get her attention.

“I am so sorry, Shepard. I have no idea what that was or how they came to that conclusion. All I said is that I was using my plus one, I swear. I’ll go clear this up.”

“It’s okay,” she said. She wasn’t sure if she was trying to reassure Kaidan or herself at that point. It was a simple misunderstanding, but it wouldn’t help her own situation and how she was already feeling about Kaidan.

Kaidan gave her a quick nod before trying to go and smooth things over with his family.

She closed the door behind her. It was made out of thin plywood. The kind that was hollow in the middle, so as she closed it, she could still hear everything that was going on.

“Commander Shepard?! Kaidan, are you kidding me?” It was said with a scolding anger that Shepard wasn’t expecting.

“Libby,” he said, already sounding exasperated. “I told you I was bringing someone.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t say it was Commander Shepard! The whole point of a wedding is to celebrate the people getting married. No one’s going to care about Derek and me with her here!”

Well, that explained the anger then. This was an issue that she hadn’t even considered. When she joined the Alliance, gaining celebrity status wasn’t exactly on the agenda, but she had gained it all the same. It was even one of the reasons she had opted to come with Kaidan instead of staying in one of the refugee camps. Libby’s concerns were warranted, considering how much of a problem her fame had become even before the end of the war. She couldn’t land on the Citadel without being stopped by a reporter or people wanting to talk to her. It was even a bit of a problem at the hospital where she was staying in London, but they at least had security. How could she have not thought of this complication when agreeing to go to a wedding of all things? The last thing she wanted to do was steal Libby’s thunder during her own wedding. This sure had turned into a colossal mess much faster than she expected. That didn’t change the fact that she was already here, though, stuck in this situation for better or worse.

Shepard heard more muffled conversation through the door, so she put her ear flush up against it to hear better.

“Libby, you are so missing the point. When has Kaidan ever brought anyone home? That means they’re serious. How could you not have told me?” 

That was definitely Maisie.

“Guys, I think everyone’s gotten the wrong ide-” Kaidan tried to cut in.

“Yeah, the Savior of the Galaxy, Kaidan? I don’t think any of us were expecting that.” It was Raiya this time.

“Hey, would you be quiet, please? She doesn’t like being called that. I didn’t bring her here to be paraded around. She’s still a real person underneath all of that, you know. It would be nice if you could all treat her like one.”

“Oooh, look at that, already coming to her defense. Kaidan’s got it bad. So just how serious are you two? Is there going to be another Alenko wedding in our future?”

“Guys, you’re all reading way too m-” He said, getting cut off yet again. He certainly came from a family of strong women, all fighting to be heard.

“All right! That’s enough. I swear, the moment all of you get into the same room together, it’s like you all revert back into being a bunch of wild children again,” Kaidan’s mother cut in. “Where have your manners gone? You’re almost all in your thirties for goodness sake. Whether you like it or not, Commander Shepard is a guest in our house, and we will treat her as such,” she scolded. It sounded like it did the trick if the following silence meant anything. “Kaidan, she seems lovely. I look forward to getting to know her better, but now, will everyone help me set the table. Please.” Shepard heard her huff out in exasperation.

That lecture wasn’t effective enough to completely stop the snarky behaviour, but everyone was speaking more quietly. It was harder to hear them through the door now. Shepard took that as reason enough to stop eavesdropping and finally went to relieve herself.

As soon as she was done and washed her hands, she exited the bathroom. She was almost startled by Kaidan pacing right in front of the door.

“Shepard, I think we have a problem.”

“So I heard,” she said, not being able to contain a smile. As much as this had become a stressful situation, the sheer absurdity of it was enough to make her want to laugh.

“Well, I’m glad you find it funny,” he said, her own smile bringing one out in him. “I’m really sorry. I can’t get a word in edgewise. I tried to tell them that we’re not - you know.”

“I heard. I know,” she assured him. She wanted him to know she didn’t harbour any ill will towards him over the confusion. “It was a simple misunderstanding. I’m sure we can smooth things over when they calm down.”

“If they ever calm down,” Kaidan huffed out seriously, as his gaze drifted off in frustration. “I haven’t seen them so determined to believe something before in my life.”

That didn’t bode well.

“I guess the most we can do is just keep emphasising that we’re not actually together,” he said. The words stung more than she expected. “Hopefully, they’ll get the picture eventually.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Shepard said, not sounding very enthusiastic about it, but it was all they had.

“I’m really sorry about the confusion. I really didn’t even think to mention it was you I was bringing. I guess to them, you’re still larger than life. To me, you’re my friend, which is who I said I was bringing. They somehow made up their own narrative about it. I didn’t think it needed to be explained more at the time. In hindsight, I can definitely see where I went wrong,” he said, sounding genuinely apologetic.

“It’s okay, Kaidan. I know you wouldn’t have done something like this on purpose. Don’t worry about it. We stick to the truth enough, I’m sure they’ll follow suit eventually.”

Kaidan nodded, still upset for having caused such a misunderstanding. “Okay,” he said, not sounding entirely convinced with the idea. “I guess we should get back to them. The table’s set, and they’re waiting for us.”

Shepard nodded in agreement, so Kaidan turned to lead them towards the dining room.

When they finally got there, Libby was still scathing. Definitely off on the wrong foot with her, it would seem. Shepard figured she’d have to try extra hard to get on her good side now, already tarnishing something that was supposed to be a special time for her. Kaidan’s mother and Maisie at least greeted her with a friendly smile that helped her feel welcome. Raiya was harder to grasp, not giving up any outward judgments through appearance alone. This was going to be one hell of a week. The silence was so awkward, Shepard just offered a smile to everyone for a moment, before glancing back to Kaidan for help.

“Uh, right. Well, is everyone ready to eat, then?” he asked, looking around the room. “Mom and Libby have been working on a big meal all morning.”

“Oh,” Shepard said, finally looking at the table setting. There was a big roast prepared and plenty of fresh vegetables and potatoes. It looked like quite the feast. “Everything looks amazing. I haven’t had a good, fresh meal in a long time.”

“Oh, well, in that case, let’s dig in, shall we?” Kaidan’s mother said with a big smile, proud of her accomplishments, and happy to see that her hard work would be appreciated by someone. She was the first to sit, taking the head of the table. “No need for manners now, just grab whatever you want,” she said, pointing to the chairs to prompt everyone to follow suit.

Jane looked at Kaidan to follow his direction. She wanted to make sure she wasn’t stealing anyone’s spot or stepping on even more toes. He quickly took notice that she was waiting for his lead, and went to pull out a chair for her.

“Oooh, look at that, Kaidan’s being such a gentleman,” Maisie said as she sat at the foot of the table.

“Yeah, about that,” Kaidan spoke up. “Shepard and I are not together,” he finally managed to get out without being interrupted. It was a relief to both of them.

“Oh come on,” Maisie said with a laugh as she started dishing some food onto her plate. “With the way you’ve been acting? There’s no way that’s true. If you’re just trying to downplay whatever’s going on between the two of you to avoid breaking the regs or something, you should know that your secret’s safe with us.”

Kaidan let out a sigh, and rubbed his forehead, hardly able to believe that this was happening.

“All right. That’s enough, Maisie. Leave them alone.”

Maisie finally listened to that well enough, but something about the whole situation didn’t seem very finalized.

Kaidan quickly acted as though everything was normal and plated some pot roast before passing it on to Shepard, which is when he broke into the conversation again. “We didn’t get to do any actual introductions, so--”

“Wait, no. I think I have a pretty good idea of who everyone must be,” Shepard said as she took a piece of the pot roast before passing the plate. She figured maybe showing a genuine interest in them might put her back on their good side.

“You have to be Maisie. Awesome hair, by the way,” she said with a genuine smile.

“Thank you,” Maisie said with a smile, glancing over to her sisters with an impressed look on her face.

Continuing around the table, “You must be Libby, and uh, I just wanted to say congratulations. This must be such an exciting time for you,” she said, trying to be extra nice.

Libby said a quiet ‘thanks’ as reciprocation, clearly not happy still, but at least trying to maintain pleasantries. Shepard just nodded at that, knowing that things weren’t going to be smoothed over for her unless she was assured that her wedding day could go off smoothly. That was an issue for another time, though.

“Raiya,” she said with a smile. Raiya just nodded, smiling back. Shepard still wasn’t exactly sure how to read her yet, but she supposed it was better than Libby. Shepard glanced at Kaidan for confirmation after that. The look he gave her was even more surprised than when he learned that she remembered all of their names. It was almost as though he hadn’t expected her to pay attention all those times he discussed his family with her. Especially not to have enough detail to have determined who everyone was on her own. She gave him a warm smile as she tried to move on to the last woman in the room.

“Not together, my ass,” Maisie mumbled under her breath in a way that was still audible to everyone else in the room, and Kaidan rolled his eyes.

Shepard wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so after a bit of an awkward pause, she continued. “And that leaves you, Mrs. Alenko. I’m sorry, but I never actually got your first name.”

“That was impressive. We’re a big group to have gotten everyone right. You can call me Ada.”

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet all of you,” Shepard said.

Maisie just stared at Shepard blankly before looking around the table. “Oh, come on! Seriously? They’re clearly together.”

Shepard and Kaidan shared a bit of a concerned look between the two of them. Apparently, her plan to get on everyone’s good side was just making this other issue of theirs worse, and now she regretted it.

“Just ignore her,” Ada interrupted. “What about you, though. Surely the great Commander Shepard must have a first name. It’s surprisingly well hidden from the public. I can’t say that I’ve ever heard it.”

Shepard had to laugh at that. It was somehow surprisingly well-hidden. Not only from the public, but even from people she was close to in her real life. Everyone had always called her Shepard ever since she was young. Likely a side effect of growing up in the military. Come to think of it, the only people that ever really called her Jane was her own mother, and Kaidan. Kaidan had only ever used that name briefly when they were together, though, and quickly reverted back to Shepard ever since.

“I do have one. Shocking, I know. It’s Jane.”

Ada gave her a genuine smile at that. “Well, it’s lovely to meet you, Jane.”

Shepard smiled back at the sincerity of it. She figured it must be strange to meet ‘Commander Shepard’ given her service record and media coverage. Maybe ‘Jane’ would be a little easier to see the person underneath all of that. This was supposed to be shore leave after all—a personal trip with a friend on top of that. If ever there was a time to put her rank aside and be Jane, it was now.

“The feeling is mutual. Kaidan’s told me so much about all of you. It’s nice to finally put faces to the names,” Shepard said.

Ada smiled at that, and everyone took a moment to eat. It took Maisie a second longer than everyone else to start eating as she sat there looking like she was about to burst. She clearly wanted to say more but didn’t want to be yelled at by her mother.

“Well, I hope you’re okay with waiting a bit before you can settle in. Kaidan only told us last night that he’d be bringing someone.”

“Sorry about that,” Shepard cut in. “You can blame that one on me. I was actually only just released from the hospital, so it was on short notice for everyone.”

“Oh no, I didn’t realise you were still recovering. Your injuries must have been quite serious.”

“You could say that,” Shepard said, warily, not really wanting to relive the worst of it right now. “I guess the important part is that I’m doing much better now,” she said, as she glanced over to Kaidan momentarily. She was almost surprised to see a look of genuine gratitude at the statement before she looked back to Ada. “I still need to be doing the exercises they’ve been teaching me in physical therapy, but I’ve been feeling much more like myself over the last month.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear you’re doing better,” she said with a warm smile. “Anyway, I hope you don’t mind sharing a room. With all of the kids back at the house again, we’re at capacity.”

Being a soldier, sleeping in close quarters with someone was hardly an issue. Her only problem with it was remembering what it felt like to wake up in the same room as him earlier that day back in Vancouver. It did nothing but make her feel worse about her current situation and constantly being reminded of her feelings for him. Then again, it was better than being temporarily homeless.

“No, that’s fine. Don’t even worry about it. I’m just thankful for the hospitality.”

Maisie flung her arms out in frustration, before crossing them indignantly, clearly wanting to say something again. Shepard mentally chastised herself for continuously shoving her foot deeper in her mouth.

“If I have anything to say about it, you’re always welcome here, Jane,” Ada said with a cheerful smile, completely ignoring her youngest child. “I’ll have your room ready in a few hours after I get a chance to wash the sheets and everything.”

“Oh, mom, that’s okay. You don’t have to go out of your way or anything. We can set up the room,” Kaidan cut in.

“No, no, don’t be silly. Your time here is so limited, and Jane’s a guest. You should take her around the property after lunch. There’s a lot to see. The apples aren’t quite ready to bloom yet, but the leaves have all come back and are such nice shades of green. The orchard looks so pretty. You should go enjoy yourselves.”

“Are you sure?” Kaidan asked. It almost looked like it pained him to think that he had inconvenienced his mom. Shepard wouldn’t put it past him. The man never liked to feel like he was a burden.

“Of course I’m sure, now quit asking.”

Kaidan nodded at that reluctantly, accepting that his mother wasn’t going to budge on the issue. 

Everyone continued with their lunch, having a passing conversation. Ada’s warm disposition was already making her feel incredibly welcome, so she figured that was at least one good thing out of this whole situation. As for everyone else, it seemed like she’d be keeping herself plenty busy trying to smooth things over.

[lady-of-the-lotus]

Fractured Ice - Ch. 6/7

Xue Yang whisks a nihilistic Lan Xichen off on a murder roadtrip to raise Xiao Xingchen and Meng Yao from the grave. Because that will solve all of their problems, right? AU where Wei Wuxian never came to Yi City and Xue Yang is still running around post-canon disguised as Xiao Xingchen.

Chang Ping ducks his head slightly. “Of course, my good daozhang. Anything for you.”

“Anything other than putting that crazed monster in the ground, you mean.” Chang Ping blinks, his watery pink-rimmed eyes bulging even farther out of his head.

“I beg your pardon, daozhang?”

“Xue Yang. You let him go.”

XueXiao & XiYao - Rated M - Read on AO3! Tumblr: Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3  Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 7

A bit of blood in this chapter - brief violence onscreen and a brief graphic aftermath

Ch. 6: meaner than my demons

“I need to make sure it’s truly him,” says Lan Xichen. He stares at the spirit-trapping pouch clutched in his hand. Everything is blurred but the small brown pouch, which stands out starkly in the flickering orange torchlight. “I need to—to—”

“If he’s not in there, he’ll never be, and we have to get out of here.” Xue Yang shoves the heavy stone lid back onto the sarcophagus and steers Lan Xichen out of the tomb. The rain has stopped, and the morning star twinkles brightly through a gap in the clouds. “Fun as this is, we can’t hang around here. Those guards—”

Lan Xichen doesn’t spare a glance at the Nie guards, still lying strewn around the tomb. He’s too absorbed by the spirit-trapping pouch in his hand.

The pouch is warm. Almost pulsing. The throbbing warmth seeps into his cold hands, into his veins, flooding his numbed body with pleasant heat—

“Stop here.” Xue Yang lays a hand on Lan Xichen’s arm when he doesn’t look up. “We’ll change into dry clothes, and then you can try playing Inquiry. I’ll hold him while you change.”

Lan Xichen reluctantly surrenders the spirit-trapping pouch to Xue Yang, who sits on a boulder with the pouch set carefully on his lap, both hands cupped around it to make sure it doesn’t fall. Lan Xichen transforms back into Lan Huan in record time, throwing his hair up in a sloppy knot. Then, upon reflection, he takes the time to do it up properly out of respect for the little brown pouch on Xue Yang’s lap.

He sits cross-legged on the rocky ground as Xue Yang changes. Takes out his guqin, gently plucks a few strings.

The answer is clear, a thousand times stronger than Xiao Xingchen’s agonized murmur:

Meng Yao.

A glowing warmth suffuses Lan Xichen. Meng Yao. He’s always thought of A-Yao by that name, even after he’d received his courtesy name and title. Simple Meng Yao, the man who had risked everything to shelter him when he had nothing. Not Jin Guangyao, not Lianfang-zun, but his Meng Yao, his A-Yao, soft and welcoming and warm and bashful and giving.

And then, I didn’t think you would come for me.

Of course I came for you , he responds, then puts away his guqin out of fear of what A-Yao would respond to that.

He doesn’t realize how long he’s been sitting like that, eyes closed, one hand on the guqin, the other on the pouch, until Xue Yang touches his shoulder.

“Sun’s up, Zewu-jun,” he says. “We need to put distance between us and Qinghe. Can’t bring your friend back if we’re getting dragged back to Gusu by a dozen Nie meatheads.”

Lan Xichen doesn’t bother asking where they’re going. Xue Yang’s plan has worked so far. He just follows the delinquent cultivator through the mountains. Practically floats. It’s a different kind of drifting than before, though.

He examines the sensation. It takes a while before he finally realizes that it’s happiness, of a sort.

Rule 70: Do not be overly happy.

He laughs to himself. Xue Yang shoots him a curious look but doesn’t say anything. Uncharacteristically quiet, his friend seems to be lost in his own thoughts.

They meet several Lan cultivators on the road, obviously searching for someone, but they don’t recognize Lan Xichen and Xue Yang in their peasant getups.

“They’d never imagine the great Zewu-jun, fashion icon to thousands, would stoop to this ,” says Xue Yang, flicking a finger at Lan Xichen’s ragged tunic and trousers. They’re sitting in a roadside inn, not as much as a hellhole as they would have preferred, but so far no cultivators have entered. “I do wish you were a bit shorter, though, and still had your beard. Do you think the Lans roped the Nie beefeaters in on their hunt, after all?”

“For you, perhaps, but my uncle would never allow a whisper of my defection to leave the Cloud Recesses. They're probably simply affronted by our attack on the tomb's guards, with you getting the brunt of the blame.”

Xue Yang jerks a thumb in the direction of the qiankun pouch inside Lan Xichen’s tunic. By Xue Yang’s suggestion, he’s stashed the spirit-trapping pouch safely away in the qiankun bag. “Just remember, if I go down, so does he.”

Lan Xichen frowns. “I wouldn’t abandon you.”

“Good. Remember that I have the knowledge you need.”

Lan Xichen puts down his cup of what might be actual tea this time. “I wouldn’t abandon you, whether or not that were the case.”

Xue Yang sneers. “Is that a Lan Clan rule?”

Various elements of loyalty, fidelity, and gratitude are encompassed by a good five dozen rules, but Lan Xichen chooses to ignore that. “It’s my rule. Have I ever given you reason to doubt me?”

Xue Yang shrugs, idly picks up a piece of chicken with his chopsticks, examines it as if looking for bugs. “At least not until my usefulness runs out.”

“Xue Yang—”

Xue Yang shrugs again. “Don’t worry, my friend: I will make myself indispensable for as long as possible.”

Lan Xichen wonders just how strong the wine was. Xue Yang doesn’t speak for the rest of the meal.

Despite getting no sleep the night before, Lan Xichen lies awake a long time that night. He can stay awake for days by drawing on his golden core, but he doesn’t need to tonight. His heart is beating too fast for idle slumber , mind racing.

He takes A-Yao’s spirit-trapping out of his qiankun pouch and sets it on the bed beside him at eye-level. Traces the bloody symbols with his finger. Strokes the soft black tassels.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. His voice catches in his throat. “I never should have doubted you. I’ll bring you back. I swear I’ll bring you back…”

* * *

“Where are we going, exactly?” he finally asks Xue Yang on the fourth day. They’re walking through the trees near the main road, keeping out of sight.

“Yueyang. We’ll arrive tomorrow.”

“Yueyang?” Something faint stirs in his memory. “Isn’t that where the Chang Clan lives?”

Xue Yang bows with exaggerated deference. “Zewu-jun is wise indeed.”

Lan Xichen smiles. “Why are we going there?”

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask.”

“…and?” Dealing with Xue Yang can be maddening sometimes. His flair for the dramatic and love of bantering is at complete odds with how Lan Xichen was taught to hold a conversation.

“You’ll find out once we’re there…” He makes a face when Lan Xichen raises his eyebrows. “All right, we’re going to pay Chang Ping a visit. He has something we want.”

“Something to bring Jin Guangyao back?”

“Wise. Most wise.”

“What about your…friend?”

Xue Yang unconsciously touches his qiankun sleeve. “We’ll get there, in time. But Jin Guangyao is the key.”

“You wouldn’t do anything that might harm Jin Guangyao—”

Xue Yang’s—Xiao Xingchen’s—fine black eyes are large and deer-like. “Zewu-jun—” He stops, as if too taken aback to respond. Instead he shakes his head. “Jin Guangyao’s spirit is whole,” he explains. “Xiao Xingchen’s spirit was shattered. Different methods are needed. Your friend was immersed in demonic cultivation towards the end of this life, and had access to books he didn’t let me near.”

“You think he hid those books?”

“No, but he remembered everything he saw, and I’m certain he knows something that can help Xiao Xingchen.”

Lan Xichen wants to tell him that this is a fragile hook to be hanging his hopes on, but doesn’t dare point that out to him and let it snap. The important thing is that Xue Yang is helping him get A-Yao back. And, he tells himself, he’s not taking advantage of the delinquent cultivator. Once he has A-Yao back, he, Lan Xichen, will do everything in his power to help return Xiao Xingchen to Xue Yang. From everything he’s ever heard about the rogue cultivator, Xiao Xingchen deserves a second chance at life.

“How exactly did it happen, anyway?” Xue Yang asks.

“Did what happen?” Lan Xichen is itching to get to an inn, take out the spirit-trapping pouch, tell A-Yao that they were close, so close to bringing him back—

“Jin Guangyao’s death, of course.”

It's like Xue Yang dumped a bucket of ice water over his head. Lan Xichen doesn’t realize he’s stopped walking until Xue Yang doubles back for him.

“His death?” Lan Xichen repeats.

“I need to know these things if we’re going to bring him back. The kind of death might affect the kind of spell we use, and besides, you don’t want me saying the wrong thing once he’s back, do you? I casually mention honey and find out he died after being stung to death by a horde of angry hornets—”

“You must already know what happened.” Lan Xichen finds that his feet are moving, but it’s as if someone outside him is making him walk, talk, breathe. He’s doubly desperate to sit down and take out A-Yao, but he and Xue Yang agreed not to handle the pouches unless within the safety of a locked room.

Xue Yang trots along beside him, voice low and sympathetic. “I know this is a painful subject, Zewu-jun, and believe me when I say I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t have to, but there are too many things that can go wrong.”

“He moved.” Lan Xichen’s voice is flat and toneless. “He moved.”

“Moved to…Koi Tower?”

“Moved. I told him not to move. I warned him. I told him not to move. I warned him. I warned him. Then—then that—that bastard —”

“Nie Huaisang?”

“—he told me A-Yao had moved. Made me think A-Yao was going to hurt me, and I—I believed him. Believed A-Yao would do me harm.” Lan Xichen’s voice is so thick he can barely push the words past his lips. “I stabbed him through the heart. Straight through the heart.”

“We ought to stop back in at Qinghe when we’re done,” says Xue Yang, “and take care of that fan-waving little plum blossom.”

“I told you, we’re not killing Nie Huaisang. Or anyone.”

Xue Yang tilts his head. “You mean anyone else .”

Lan Xichen has stopped walking again. “What do you mean?”

There’s something catlike about Xue Yang that he’s never noticed before, but his companion’s voice couldn’t be softer, couldn’t be gentler, almost as if he’s impersonating Xiao Xingchen again. “Nothing, Zewu-jun,” he says, bowing. “I was just thinking of Jin Guangyao. My apologies. It was uncalled for. ”

Lan Xichen doesn’t remember much after that, too focused on the thought of what is to come. They must have had a conversation about stopping, but he can’t recall it as he later lies on his cot, stroking A-Yao’s soft warm spirit-trapping pouch. Can’t recall eating the evening meal, or coming up the stairs, or taking off his tunic or shoes or letting his hair down, but he must have at some point.

He presses his forehead to the spirit-trapping pouch on the pillow beside him. Inside is A-Yao—Meng Yao. Not Jin Guangyao. Not Lianfang-zun.

Meng Yao.

Not the man he had stabbed through the heart with twelve inches of ice-cold steel, but Meng Yao.

It takes all of his strength to turn away from the pouch and roll over onto his back, limbs filled with mortar. Who is he fooling? No matter what name A-Yao went by, all four of them were the same person.

He had killed Meng Yao. Not Jin Guangyao, not Lianfang-zun. Meng Yao.

His Meng Yao.

He’d believed everyone’s slander, he’d believed A-Yao’s own words of self-reprobation, he’d believed that A-Yao—A-Yao!—could have ever meant him harm.

“But never have I ever thought about doing you harm!”

He dreams that night of floating, not quite flying. Floating over a river of blood streaming from his sword, with A-Yao’s hat bobbing in the current.

He wakes up numb. Dresses, fixes his hair with nerveless fingers. Gets a shave. Is too nervous to eat. Doesn’t hear a word Xue Yang says as they leave the inn and head down the road towards the Chang Manor.

“I’ve been thinking,” says Xue Yang. “—Zewu-jun? Are you listening?”

With a tremendous effort, Lan Xichen turns his attention towards Xue Yang.

“I’ve been wondering if you should dress in your Zewu-jun getup, or not. I figure that—”

“Yes.”

“Yes—?”

Lan Xichen doesn’t know how to explain that he wants to look presentable for A-Yao. He remembers how Xue Yang had put on his best clothes for Inquiry at the Cloud Recesses and hopes he’ll figure it out on his own.

Xue Yang smiles. “I understand. But on the off-chance something goes wrong, we don’t want it known that Zewu-jun was there.”

A surge of desperation. “I won’t wear my ribbon or give my real name. Although—you’re only getting in on the strength of Xiao Xingchen’s name, and the people after us know we’re traveling together.”

Xue Yang sighs. “I suppose they would have figured we came this way sooner or later, after tonight.”

“Is whatever you're planning absolutely necessary? If it will give us away…”

An odd look creeps over Xue Yang’s face. “It’s Chang Ping or nobody.” He turns away slightly. “Do what you want about your clothes.”

In the end, Lan Xichen puts on the best robes he brought, dressing while hidden in a copse of cypress trees up the road from the Chang Manor while Xue Yang puts on the green-and-white robes he arrived at the Cloud Recesses in.

They’re let into the manor soon after Xue Yang sends in Xiao Xingchen’s name. The grounds are dark and empty, very quiet and very still.

“Where is everyone?” Xue Yang asks the servant as they’re led through the courtyard into the discussion hall.

“The great Phoenix Mountain hunt, daozhang.”

The servant’s words pierce Lan Xichen’s numb shell. If Chang Ping isn’t here, their entire trip was for nothing—

“And, of course, Clan Leader Chang avoids Koi Tower as much as possible since that sickening miscarriage of justice,” says Xue Yang.

The servant ducks her head. Xue Yang winks at Lan Xichen.

He must have known Chang Ping would be mostly alone, thinks Lan Xichen, and he knows this should alarm him but he can’t bring himself to care.

“Please don’t tell anyone else about our visit,” Xue Yang tells the servant. “It is of a highly sensitive nature.”

“It’s just my husband and I right now, daozhang,” bows the servant. “Clan Leader Chang is not a fussy man.”

“Or a rich man,” says Xue Yang, glancing around the room after the servant hustles out. “This place was a lot nicer sixteen years ago.”

“What are you going to do to him, exactly?”

Xue Yang’s face is serene, but there’s something decidedly unquiet flickering in his eyes. “Nothing he doesn’t deserve.”

Lan Xichen winces. “Yes, but—”

Xue Yang unwinds the bandages covering his hand and rips off his glove with his teeth.

His left hand is a mass of scars, as if the original wounds that had once covered it had been badly infected at some point. The delicate bones along the back had healed all wrong, crooked and painful-looking. Worst of all is his little finger. It’s missing from the first joint, a ragged stump, looking as if—as if it had been bitten off with small weak teeth.

“He did this to you?”

Xue Yang is staring straight ahead. “I was seven.”

“Xue Yang, I’m—”

“Don’t.” He tugs his glove back on. “I don’t care about my hand anymore. But he’s the one responsible for Xiao Xingchen’s death—”

Chang Ping bustles in before Lan Xichen can ask questions. “Xiao Xingchen! I did not expect to see the daozhang again.” He makes ridiculously large gestures as he bows, sleeves flapping. He’s small and fat and, despite what the servant had said, quite fussy-looking. He has a rather unfortunate beard and mustache combination and reminds Lan Xichen of Wangji’s pet rabbits. “And—ah—Zewu-jun! What an unexpected honor!”

That’s right. Chang Ping tends to avoid Cultivation Conferences, but they’d met once before at Lotus Pier.

Chang Ping seats himself on his seat of office. His eyes dart to Lan Xichen’s face, observing the lack of forehead ribbon, but he’s too polite to ask about it. “What can your humble servant do for Zewu-jun and the esteemed daozhang?”

“Funny Clan Leader Chang should ask,” says Xue Yang, calm again. He bows low. His glove is still exposed, but he’s in full Xiao Xingchen mode, down to his posture and the way he holds his head. “There is something I need.”

Chang Ping ducks his head slightly. “Of course, my good daozhang. Anything for you.”

“Anything other than putting that crazed monster in the ground, you mean.”

Chang Ping blinks, his watery pink-rimmed eyes bulging even farther out of his head. “I beg your pardon, daozhang?”

“Xue Yang. You let him go.”

Chang Ping’s obsequious smile freezes on his face. “I beg your pardon?”

Lan Xichen senses something different in Xue Yang’s voice. It’s Xiao Xingchen’s voice—there’s not a trace of Xue Yang’s teasing, overly casual tones—but there’s a harshness to it belonging to neither Xue Yang or his usual Xiao Xingchen impression. A metallic tang, a brittle bitterness.

“You let Xue Yang go,” Xue Yang repeats. He’s slowly walking— gliding —back and forth in front of Chang Ping, a leopard stalking its prey. There’s a certain poise, a slight arch to his back, a grace to his step that Xue Yang perhaps intentionally lacks when he’s not Xiao Xingchen. “And do you know what that lowlife bastard did?”

Chang Ping licks his lips nervously. “Daozhang, you know I had no choice! My clan was in ruins; I needed the Jin Clan’s support—”

Shuanghua flies through the air, plunging deep into the chair cushion beside Chang Ping’s head. “ ‘No choice’?”

Chang Ping shrinks away from the blade. “I—I had a duty to my clan!”

“What clan? They were all dead! Wiped out by that maniac!”

“Not—not all—”

Xue Yang is up on the dais, retrieving Xiao Xingchen’s sword. At Chang Ping’s words, he grabs the clan leader by the collar and throws him down the dais’ steps, floating gracefully down after him like a flower petal on the breeze.

“Do you know what that monster did?” he repeats. His foot is on Chang Ping’s bulbous Adam’s apple. “Slaughtered my partner’s entire temple, blinded him for no reason other than his own petty revenge and amusement—”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I had a duty to my clan—”

Xue Yang stabs down with Shuanghua, skewering Chang Ping’s hand. “You wanted to be a clan leader—” He twists the blade, tearing the wound open, separating the bones in the back of the clan leader's hand.

Tears of pain stream down Chang Ping’s face. “I had to honor my father—”

“By setting free the man who exterminated his family?” Xue Yang walks around the quivering man, trailing the bloody sword tip over the stone floor with a scraping sound that sets Lan Xichen’s teeth on edge. “Not that he deserved your honor. Your father was as much a monster as Xue Yang. Chang Cian’s entire bloodline deserves to be wiped out!”

“Please! Please don’t! I did what I thought best—”

“You did what you thought best for you.” Xue Yang crouches before Chang Ping, grabs him by the throat and jerks the cowering clan leader’s head up so he’s forced to meet his eye. “You blinded my partner,” he says in a flat, toneless voice. “I gave him my own eyes, and then I met him , and because I couldn’t see I let him stay, and it’s all your fault— everything that happened; all your fault —”

Chang Ping’s face is a mask of fear and confusion. “I—I think you might have the wrong—”

“It’s all your fault, you and your whole tainted bloodline—”

Lan Xichen slips out of the room. He knows Chang Ping must be screaming, but Xue Yang obviously learned a silencing spell while at the Cloud Recesses, because Lan Xichen feels an energy barrier springing up around the room as soon as he exits and hears nothing.

The servant from earlier is waiting nearby.

“I need writing materials,” he tells her.

Bowing, she leads him to what appears to be Chang Ping’s study.

Lan Xichen settles down before the table. “Please go tell your husband to pack your bags. Return in ten minutes for the letter. Thank you.”

“Zewu-jun?”

“I discussed it with your master. Hurry!”

She hustles out.

Lan Xichen picks up the brush and removes a folded section of paper from the carved wooden stationary box on the desk.

The letter is ready when the servant returns with her husband and a little girl, traveling packs slung over their shoulders.

“Go straight to the Cloud Recesses in Gusu. Deliver this letter to the Chief Cultivator, and the Chief Cultivator only. This letter is for Lan Qiren, and Lan Qiren only. Take this as well.” He passes them a purse full of silver pieces. “Speak to nobody along the way. Now go!”

“With all due respect, Zewu-jun, we ought to see our master first—”

“If you do not go now,” Lan Xichen says, “you will never leave this place at all.”

He doesn’t think they quite pick up on what he means, but they hurry out. He follows them, making sure they leave, waiting outside the manor as they disappear up the road leading to Yueyang.

He remains on the side of the road for a bit, breathing in the crisp night air. The stars are particularly bright tonight, the moon full. He has a sudden urge to strip off his robes, stretch out middle of the road and bathe in the starlight. Be fresh and clean and glowing when A-Yao sees him again.

His heart beats faster at the thought.

A-Yao.

For reasons he can’t explain he feels suddenly like walking down the road, walking until his legs give out, walking off the edge of the world, leaving everything in this one behind, dissipating into a cloud of starlight.

Ridiculous. Just because he let Xue Yang execute a man who thoroughly deserved it is no reason to feel—feel unworthy of A-Yao’s return.

He turns quickly and heads back into the manor.

“A-Yao. A-Yao.” He repeats the name to himself, focusing on the word’s warmth on his lips. “A-Yao. A-Yao…”

“Not if you don’t get back in here.” Xue Yang is leaning against the door to the ancestral hall, himself again. “Where did you run off to?” He’s grinning broadly, eyes bright. Too bright. Shuanghua gleams in his hand, wet with blood. “The main event is about to begin.”

* * *

Chang Ping deserved it, Lan Xichen reminds himself. Over and over. Chang Ping deserved it. Chang Ping deserved it…

The clan leader’s naked body is hanging from ropes attached to a ceiling beam, a bucket set directly beneath his feet. The body is swaying slightly, as if Xue Yang gave it a playful push before going to wait for Lan Xichen. The corpse is a mass of pulpy red and oozing pink, exposed bone and ruptured fat and flayed muscle, an inhuman horror glistening wetly in the lamplight.

Chang Ping’s eyes are missing.

“Not bad, if I do say so myself.” Xue Yang is cleaning his blade with Chang Ping’s robes. “Considering how out of practice I am.”

“Did you have to—have to—”

“Give him the full experience?” Xue Yang laughs. His laugh is a bit too high and a bit too long. “I needed that resentful energy, my friend. Do you think I enjoyed torturing the good Chang Ping?”

Lan Xichen looks at Xue Yang’s left hand.

Xue Yang wags a finger at him. “What his father did to me had nothing to do with any of this. But believe me when I say he was just as guilty.”

“His father? I thought it was Chang Ping who…” Lan Xichen remembers what Xue Yang said about Chang Ping’s involvement in Xiao Xingchen’s death. “Never mind. What do you need the resentful energy for?”

Xue Yang points to the floor beneath the swinging corpse. Drawn in blood on the floor is a large, complicated array, with a new-looking spirit-trapping pouch near the bucket. “Three guesses. Now, I’ll be back in just a minute...Have you seen that servant woman?”

“I sent the servants away.”

The grin slips from Xue Yang’s face. “You what?”

“I sent them away.”

Xue Yang is staring fixedly at a spot just behind Lan Xichen. “And why did you do that? Pang of conscience?”

“I needed someone to deliver a letter to my brother. That’s all.”

“Suicide note?”

“Suicide is forbidden—”

Xue Yang jerks a thumb at the corpse. “So is murder.”

Lan Xichen swallows hard. “I could never do that to my family, or demean the gift of life given to me.”

Xue Yang keeps staring at that invisible spot, then bursts out laughing again. “We’ll get there eventually,” he says, shaking his head.

“What do you mean?”

Xue Yang pats his arm. “Not the suicide, my friend. Don’t worry. I want you whole and healthy. I’m talking about your sticking your nose in with the servants. It was my own fault. I thought you…ah, never mind. We have time. We have time.”

Lan Xichen moves out of arm-patting range. “Time for what?”

“Time to bring back your friend, of course .” Xue Yang sheaths Xiao Xingchen’s sword in the scabbard strapped to his back. “The pouch, please.”

“You mean—”

Xue Yang is grinning again. “I told you this would be worth it.”

Lan Xichen doesn’t remember him having said that, or given him any forewarning about what he’d done to Chang Ping, but he’s too nervous to think about it.

Xue Yang takes A-Yao’s spirit-trapping pouch from him delicately, holding it with as much care as if Xiao Xingchen himself had been inside the pouch. “Your hand.”

Lan Xichen extends his hand. Xue Yang uses his needlessly large knife to prick open the now-healed little wound he’d made back at the tomb, using his blood to create a number of talismans, which he hangs on Chang Ping’s body.

Then he picks up the new spirit-trapping pouch from the floor and takes a curved, palm-sized chunk of black-and-gray metal out of his sleeve. He grips it in the same hand as the new spirit-trapping pouch and A-Yao’s pouch, black smoke pouring off the metal piece and curling around the pouches.

Lan Xichen’s eyes widen. “That’s—”

Xue Yang puts a playful finger to his lips. “We know what it is.”

“But—”

“Don’t worry. I don’t use it often enough to go the way of Wen Ruohan or Wei Wuxian. I don’t want to lose my mind any more than the next person wants me to.”

“But—”

“Do you want me to continue or not?”

Lan Xichen ducks his head and steps back.

The black smoke twines around Xue Yang’s fingers. He sends the chunk of metal at the body, drawing a rapid-fire sequence of glowing red symbols in the air, then opens the new spirit-trapping pouch.

A blast of resentful energy escapes the bag, so potent that Lan Xichen is sent flying across the room. So Xue Yang had trapped Chang Ping’s resentful energy in the new pouch—

Xue Yang reaches for the metal, releasing a second burst of dark energy so powerful that Lan Xichen loses consciousness.

He awakens almost immediately. Sits up and looks around, heart beating wildly.

Xue Yang is kneeling before Chang Ping’s body, not in an act of contrition but as if using the…the chunk of metal had taken more out of him than expected.

But Lan Xichen barely notices him. His eyes are riveted on the naked, shivering figure lying curled up inside the array.

Lan Xichen rises, trembling, and takes a few shaky steps towards the small white figure.

“…A-Yao?”

Up Next: The final chapter! Things come to a head.

Or: The night sky sure is pretty and stars are cool.

Chapter 7