#this was before I even settled on his full demon design let alone the final form

[bonkalore]

These are actually some of the earliest pics I did when thinking of the AU, just never finished, but I should post them anyway! The pivotal moment of Jayce finally falling to the Dread's influence and opening the coffer, unleashing it in full.

I always felt like the moment should have been more dramatic and very apocalyptic level feeling of BAD THING happening, but it fell kind of short and was just needing to be wrapped up. Likely bc time and budget again sadly. Anyway, Jayce violently taken over with hardly any will left! 👍

[sucrosette]

★— ⋆｡˚ [Crossroads]

For Day 24 of Carry on Countdown 23, Cross. @carryon-countdown

In which Simon is an actual half-dragon and he's found himself in a bit of a situation with a certain human mage. What's a familiar even supposed to do anyway?

This part is rated T, mostly just for the language.

Prior Parts: 9, 15, & 18

⋆｡˚

They were at a crossroads. Apparently, there was a lot of magick nestled in crosswords. Baz had explained it some along the way here, but Simon hadn’t really absorbed it all so much. That was fine, this was just introductory. Basil had said Simon didn’t need to remember anything and everything he said about magick anyway.

So here they were, standing at a crossroads, a fairly quiet one it seemed. “It’s not the most powerful we could’ve gone to, but we won’t be disturbed here.” Apparently a more travelled crossroad could store more potential, reach more depths, or something of the like. Simon was trying to pay attention, really he was.

Simon still wasn’t sure what it was they were going to do by being here. Baz was already drawing out chalk circles on the ground in some kind of cryptic obsessive-compulsive pattern. It sort of looked like something that would show up on a late-night BBC documentary about “the corrupted youth.”

He looked over to Basil again.

Yeah, he could have definitely be the face of the corrupted youth. No, maybe not in the traditional way or the way you’d expect. He wore his blazer and shirt and tie all neat and nicely, but his long black as pitch hair slicked back in a short pony and an ears full of golden piercings, his nails painted black… yeah, he could be the corrupted youth. If you looked close enough.

Simon inched closer to those meticulously drawn circles, careful not to disturb them as he squinted down at them. “We’re not summoning some kind of demon are we?”

Basil took a moment to look properly aghast at Simon, pausing his meticulous drawings. “Of bloody course not. That would be insane. It’s barely your first day as a familiar.”

“Oh,” Simon hesitated, “Does that mean we might eventually?”

Basil snorted a sort of half-a-laugh, “Not if we can avoid it. I’d prefer not to lose my soul being reckless like that.”

“Well that’s a bloody relief–”

“We’re banishing one,” Baz interrupted as he puts the finishing touches on his circles, glyphs really, and stands. He claps the dust from his palms and stands himself up outside of the design, circling it and checking his work over.

“I’m sorry, what?” Simon blinked over at Basil, the colour draining from his face, “What happened to it being my first day as a familiar?”

Baz waved his hand dismissively, nose pointed up, “This is easy work. I could do this on my own, in it’s entirety, and I have before. You’ll make it easier though. Just stand…” Baz stepped over to Simon and guides him to a particular point on the design, the eastern side, if Simon wasn’t getting himself mixed up. “Here. Don’t move, don’t break the lines, just hands on the ground on either side of the point and…” the explanation sort of broke up for a moment, “Actually, how do you access your magick, usually?”

Simon settled himself as Baz had described. He didn’t really know too much magick, let alone how to do it well, or even consistently, for that matter. “Accidentally?” He finally admitted.

Baz didn’t answer right away, correcting Simon’s hands only slightly before stepping around to the opposite point of the circle. “How do you go about your little… shape change? Is that not magick?”

“Kind of?” Simon didn’t really know how he did that either, “I think it’s mostly instinct.”

“Alright, well,��� Baz shrugged, “Reach for that instinct then. Find whatever little thing that makes you shift and just, I suppose, touch it. Try and touch it without switching shapes.”

Simon’s gaze stayed fixed to that corner for a long while, long enough that the silence between them got a little awkward, that the air between them got a little stale, that Baz started to get a little impatient.

“Think you can manage?”

“Oh, right,” Simon scrunched up his nose and concentrated, thinking about that feeling that came right before the switch, “Yeah, I think I’ve got it.”

“Grand,” Basil planted his own hands the same way Simon’s were, just opposite of him, “Just hold on to that feeling. I’m starting now.”

Before Simon could confirm he’d heard or understood, Baz was speaking. Well, Simon thought it was speaking, but it was definitely in a tongue he’d never heard before and it didn’t feel human. It felt heavy and thick and dark and Baz’s eyes had gone black in the sclera, but Simon didn’t have time to think about that either. He had to keep his mind on that feeling, that little… okay, maybe not so little, orb of energy that caused his shifts. It was warm in his mind and if he thought about it hard enough he could roll it around in his palms, like a small sun, but it wasn’t so scorching like this.

When the demon came through in middle of the glyphs Baz had arranged, it was a whole dramatic affair, or it certainly seemed that way to Simon. It was… a bit beyond direct perception, a swirling mass of dark energy and wispy smoke. The area immediately surrounding them had definitely grown hotter and the cement under Simon’s palms was notably more uncomfortable to the touch, but he didn’t move his palms away.

He did his best to remain as Baz had put him, despite the sweat pooling in the small of his back. It had gotten harder to maintain that connection with his miniature personal ball of sunshine now that the demon had found itself here. 

And then the demon spoke.

Simon fumbled the ball in his mind’s eye and his shape slipped from one to the other like water rushing down from the apex of a waterfall. His wings fluttered behind him at the swiftness of the change, tail stretching out on instinct as his body adjusted, but his claws, even as small as they were comparatively to his human shape had managed to stay solid in that same spot.

Thank Merlin and Morgana and every other mage to come before. He ignored the pure power contained in that voice and focused to pull this orb back into focus. There was no sludge running over his ears, only this sun in his palms, only the magick of it flowing through him.

It was speaking the same tongue that Basil was using, but Basil remained unphased, only focusing harder on his incantation, his brows knit together with effort and sweat starting to bead down the back of his perfect neck. Simon couldn’t help but be taken with his unflappable aura for a moment, impressed by his sheer will to remain unwavering when faced with such a thing as the demon caught between them.

Simon redoubled his efforts to hold that little ball of energy, pulsing brighter the longer Baz chanted. He prayed he hadn’t fucked anything up too hard for Baz when he’d shifted. He also didn’t want to lose his soul to some reckless act within a day of finally finding a steady source of food.

At least in this shape, there was no sweat to gather down his spine and his palms didn’t ache so much. Simon’s wings fanned gently to keep him cool and he allowed himself to concentrate on Basil’s calm repetitions over the oil-slick wet feeling that came with the demon’s words.

Almost as suddenly as the demon appeared, the ground under it fell away.

There was a large whooshing noise.

And then the demon was gone too.

The road reconstructed itself in between the two of them and then everything fell quiet.

Simon stayed poised until Baz moved. Basil stood slowly, dusting his hands off again, and fetched the bucket of water he’d left aside. He poured it over the now sizzling sigils, burned of their power (Simon had no idea how or why he knew that), and that’s when Simon allowed himself to move. He trotted over to Baz’s side and headbutted his calf.

It was as close as he could manage to a ‘good job’ without words.

“Oh,” Baz looked down at him, “You shifted.”

Simon let out a small trill of confirmation and then Baz’s nose started bleeding.

“Oh,” Baz said again, catching the blood in his open palm, and Simon could see he was moving too slowly, that his balance was starting to go, “It seems I over-exerted myself.”

[somniarestellae]

(Not so) Quiet Nights

By @dreamingdelusionz , inspired by artwork by @magismol-v

(Summary- The aftermath of a nightmare Crowley has immediately after the Swap following the Armageddidnt)

It had been a long day, Aziraphale decided. A very, very long day in an excruciatingly long week- at the end of an unbearably long 11 years. Today was supposed be the first day of the rest of their lives- but it seemed their pasts couldn't quite leave them alone. Crowley had come to the bookshop- no, he had come to Aziraphale- golden eyes full of fear and pain and anguish and brimming with unshed tears. He had come, and all but fallen into his arms, unable to contain his tears any longer. The firey demon had clung to the angel desperately, spilling out a story that made his heart clench and his very being cry in sympathy for the man shaped being in his arms.

And Aziraphale listened. He listened as Crowley told of the Before. Of Heaven, and it's cold, bitterly cold, glory. Of his work, crafting stars and spinning galaxies from nothing. Of how he had asked just a simple question- why? What was it all for? Why build and design all this if it's simply going to be destroyed? Of how his curious nature and humor had attracted the wrong friends. Of how he hadn't really meant to fall- how he was pushed, and ended up sauntering vaguely downwards. Of all the pain, and horror, and *awfulness* of the change- of the Fall.

Crowley, for all his attempts at being cool and unbothered by being a demon, was, in fact, quite bothered indeed. He had a story- and it wasn't a nice story, not in the common sense of the word. But when he had spent the night tossing and turning and lost in his memories of his Fall... His first instinct was to run. And run he did- straight (gay) into the arms of his Principality. Of Aziraphale. He fell into that warmth and safety and *sobbed*. Before he quite realized what he was saying, the words spilled out of his mouth like the tears from his eyes, and he told Aziraphale *everything*.

As Aziraphale listened, helpless and unwilling to interrupt, he scooped up the demon before him and carried him gently- so very gently, and carefully- to the back room, where he settled on the couch with Crowley held close in his lap, wrapped up in his arms. He let the demon cry and whimper and tell him all the things he needed to. By the time the story was over, his own cheeks were wet with silently shed tears and one hand had found its way to card gentle fingers through red hair.

Crowley, for his part, was very miserable. Even after he finished telling the story, he kept crying- kept sobbing. He clung the the warm angel holding him so close as if.. As if if he were to let go, this would all be a dream, and he would be alone. (The "like always" stayed in his private most thoughts)

But finally, finally. Crowley quieted, and stilled, tired and worn from... From everything. Aziraphale still didn't let go. He wouldn't. He knew better. So Crowley didn't either. The two of them sat there, wrapped in each other's embrace, faces wet with tears, and just *breathed*.

A while after after Crowley calmed and quieted, Aziraphale broke the silence that had come to rest comfortably between them.

"Thank you, dear boy, for telling me." His voice was quiet, and strung with emotion- but so, so kind, and sincere. "Thank you for coming to me." He was determined to make sure Crowley knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that he was always here for him. "I'm.. I'm sorry, my dear... I'm so very sorry you had to go through all that. But you're here *now*, and you're *safe*. I have you."

And it was those words- the fact Aziraphale was offering him a safe place- that made Crowley melt, bonelessly, into the soft body of his companion. That made him slip, slowly, to lie against his chest, and breathe out a low, long, relieved sigh. It was the kind of sigh one does when a great and heavy weight has finally been lifted off their shoulders- for that is exactly how Crowley felt.

And what a sight that was. The deceptively soft angel- intelligent, English and gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrogen oxide- seated comfortably of a worn couch, a demon- who did not mean to Fall, and ended up Sauntering Vaguely Downwards- seated sideways in his lap, legs up on the cushions and head tucked into the plush chest of the aforementioned angel. It was a soft thing, a gentle thing. It was tired, and sad, and so full of emotions. And yet.. Right then, and right there, it was perfect. And perfect was quite nice (in every sense of the word).

The world may be going on outside the shop, and the world may be celebrating the first day of the rest of forever- but in a quiet old bookshop located on the streets of Soho, an angel and a demon sat together in the silence, and simply breathed and were thankful thankful that they both were still here after everything.

(AN- I hope you enjoyed! This takes place immediately after the body swap, the day immediately after. Crowley had had nightmares afterwards thanks to the ordeal and gone to Aziraphale for comfort)

Quiet nights…

[sergeantsporks]

Day After Day

Rating: Teen and Up, Gen

Life in the coven seems glamorous on the surface, but there's a lot of work in being a coven leader. Hunter can handle it. He CAN.

Ao3

Alarm. Shut it off.

Hunter blinked blearily at the tiny demon determinedly chomping his arm. He flicked its eye to get it to stop and peeled it off, tossing it to his counter. He rubbed his eyes, lying in bed for just a second—just one more minute.

Okay. That was enough. It was time to get up.

He needed to get up.

Up, or you’re late, and Kikimora will notice, and Belos will notice, and the whole coven will notice.

Technically, he was up an hour earlier than he had to be. Technically, he wasn’t even close to being late, because the rest of the coven wouldn’t even begin to get up for another hour.

Get up.

Hunter rolled off of his bed, flipping on the lights, because the sun hadn’t risen yet. His alarm demon had gone back to sleep.

Wish that were me.

Tunic, on, armor, on, cloak, on, pinned with the symbol of the emperor’s coven. Shoulder pad, on. Hunter picked up his mask, and a sick feeling swept over him.

I don’t want to put it on. I’m so sick of it. I just want to leave it off and breathe without it tasting like metal.

No. It kept him safe. It was protection from the outside world. He needed it.

Mask on. Hood up.

Down to the mess hall. No one else was up, and that included the chef demons—they’d wake up in about half an hour to start cooking breakfast for the coven scouts and guards. Hunter turned on the lights. Half an hour to cook something up, eat, clean, put everything back.

He set on a kettle, grabbing a mug and a tea ball. Too tired to make breakfast. He usually was. So, tea it was, and he’d get lunch with the rest of the coven—no avoiding that.

The kettle whistled, and Hunter poured the water. Wait awkwardly for the tea to steep. Pour the rest of the water out of the kettle, return it to its place, wipe off the counter where the mug had been to avoid spillage, take tea to cafeteria.

Just like every other day.

Titan.

Sit alone at the table, his mask pulled up just enough that he could fit the mug under, sipping tea that was just a little too hot and a little too bitter.

Good, it would wake him up.

Just like every other morning.

Finish the tea. Ten minutes until the kitchen staff showed up. Wipe off table, clean mug, return it to cabinet. Turn off lights. It was like he’d never been there.

Go to the center office and check for the night patrol reports. There were 2, one for each shift. Both were a quick read and a quick file. Nothing eventful.

The coven was starting to stir, a few early risers up and about. They gave respectful nods to him as he passed them in the hallway, and he gave them acknowledgement nods back.

Wish I had time for a nap.

But it was just about time for him to designate the day’s patrols, and after that he had guard duty in the Emperor’s throne room for matters of state, and then it would be time for lunch, and then the first round of reports would be in, and he’d have to read those, and then he’d have his own patrol, and then it would be time for his daily exercise routine and then it would be dinner time, and then finally he’d have just a little bit of time to himself, but at that point it would be too late to take a nap, because that would mean he wouldn’t fall asleep later, and anyway, he’d need to be awake to read and file the last set of reports before the night shift, and then it would be time to do a sweep of the castle before everything settled down and then it would be time to go to sleep so that he could get an adequate amount of rest for tomorrow.

Obviously he didn’t have any time to take a nap right now.

And the day progressed exactly as he knew it would. Organize the scouts, guard the emperor, lunch, reports, patrol (nothing eventful), training, dinner. And then he was in his room, and he could finally take off the mask completely and breathe freely.

Hunter flipped the cover of a book back and forth. Opened it up to the page he’d left out on. Sighed. Set it aside. Picked up a different book. Set it down. Picked up his staff, starting to polish it, then setting that aside, too. Picked up the first book again, and stared at the page he’d been on for a few minutes without reading it. Closed it again.

He really just wanted to go to sleep. But he couldn’t, or he wouldn’t sleep tonight.

You like reading. Just read a book. It’ll make you happy.

He picked up the book, flipping the cover back and forth again, staring at the page.

He just couldn’t summon the willpower to actually read it.

You’ve been looking forward to it all day, what’s wrong with you? You like to read, just read the book!

I just don’t have the energy.

And then it was time to look at the patrol reports. Mask back on, trudge back to the office.

See, you didn’t really have the time to read anyway.

Hunter flipped through reports without reading them, putting his head down on the desk.

I’m too tired for this.

I should have taken that nap.

He flicked himself in the head. “Focus, you need to get this done. You said you’d get it done, you came down here to do it, no getting distracted, just do it.”

One of the reports contained a demon sighting, a real nasty large one.

Huh. He’d have to make sure the patrols to that area were briefed on the possible danger, maybe assign larger patrols. He felt sick just thinking about rearranging the size, changing the routine of the coven—it was a lot of work.

Sounds like a tomorrow problem.

Yes. It was too late to worry about it now—there was nothing he could do at the moment, he’d just have to figure out the change tomorrow, when he assigned patrols.

Nightly inspection.

Nothing wrong. Everything in order. No problems.

Hunter unpinned his cape, hanging it up neatly. Tunic left for laundry, armor and belt hung up with cape. Helmet on the bedside table.

Teeth brushed, face washed, all in order.

Hunter was asleep when his head hit the pillow.

Alarm. Shut it off.

Hunter didn’t for a minute, until the biting of the alarm demon got too painful to ignore. He flicked it away.

Titan. Just. Let me lie here for a second.

No. You put off redesigning those patrols, so you have to get an extra early start, now get up.

Uniform.

Tea.

Night shift reports—a little faster than usual, mostly skimming. No sighting of that demon.

Figure out those patrols.

Hunter thumped his head against the desk repeatedly.

Figure out the patrols.

Come on, stupid brain, focus.

Okay. He could make the patrols not going through the area with the sighting a bit smaller—there hadn’t been any incidents in those sectors, so they didn’t need a full patrol. And then he could just add those extra people to the patrols going through the hot spot, warn all patrols to be on the lookout, and… the new patrols needed to be particularly well-balanced, with a mix of defense and offense. So he couldn’t just shift patrol members from one side to another, he had to redesign the entire schedule to make the best teams.

Should have looked at this last night.

Well, you didn’t, because you never learn this lesson, now redesign the patrols.

He was late out of the office to see the early risers, hurrying to the briefing room where he explained the situation, handed out the new assignments, warned the scouts to be on their guard and to call for backup if necessary, then hurried off to the throne room.

This was the closest thing he got to a break until after dinner. Sure, he had to stand ramrod straight and hold still unless it was necessary to move, but at least he didn’t have to think, at least not the way he had to when he was designing patrols. He just had to be alert.

Lunch.

Reports.

Patrol was nice. He finally got to be alone, no one looking for direction or asking him to do something.

Lilith had never done patrols when she was coven head—but then, she’d had her special assignment of capturing the owl lady.

Oh. Oh, right, Lilith had also had to organize Covention, which would… now be his job. He should probably get on that—except he didn’t really have the time to organize Covention, because he only barely had enough time to get the DAILY things done, he didn’t have time for a major project like Covention!

Whatever. Whatever, he’d just have to get ahead on some patrol schedules, and then he’d have the time. It would be fine, he just had to work a little harder now, and start planning early. He could use some of his free time, it wasn’t like he was managing to do anything he actually wanted to do anyway.

Hunter finished the patrol—nothing to report, nothing of note.

Training.

Dinner—he just grabbed some food from the mess hall and headed up to his room, scarfing down a piece of bread while he planned the next week’s worth of patrols.

He could skip the nightly check tonight—it technically wasn’t one of his official duties, it just made him feel safer. But tonight he was too busy, he lost track of time looking at old covention shows and speeches.

Hunter rubbed his eyes with a yawn, clearing away his plate. Time… time to go to sleep.

Titan.

Alarm. Shut it off.

I don’t want to.

Get up. Get up, get up, get up.

Hunter ripped the alarm demon off of his arm with a groan, sitting up and scattering old covention records. Titan.

He stacked the papers neatly.

Mask on.

Tea.

Reports.

The patrol reports he’d missed from yesterday marked another demon sighting—and there were a few citizen reports, too, the creature was destroying local shops. Not just a watch anymore, then—he needed to put a price on its head, which meant he needed to take a look at the coven budget.

Later problem.

Shift assignments.

Emperor’s guard.

Titan. Was this it? Doing this for the rest of his life? Was that what he wanted?

Of course it was. Of course it was, of course it was. This was a bright future—looked up to, in command of the most powerful coven, right hand man to his uncle. So what if it got a little monotonous, a little stressful? There were plenty of people who would kill to be in his position.

Public time over. The throne room doors closed. “Golden Guard. It has come to my attention that we have a bit of a demon problem.”

Hunter inclined his head. “Yes, sir. I’ve increased patrol size, and was planning to put out a reward for its capture or destruction.”

“I would prefer if you oversaw this one personally.”

“Personally?” Whoops—he hadn’t meant for that to come out questioning.

“Personally. I know you have a lot on your plate, managing the coven. But I’m certain you can handle this as well, yes?”

Yes, he could handle it. Of course he could handle it, it just meant shifting priorities, and taking up the time he’d set aside for planning covention, and maybe getting behind on the reports for a couple of days while he solved this problem. He could handle it, but that didn’t mean he wanted to. You don’t have to. You could outsource the job to scouts, or put that reward up.

But Emperor Belos wanted him to do it, and Emperor Belos believed he could do it—which he could, no problem—so of course he would, because he couldn’t disappoint the emperor, no matter how much he wished he could just have one focus.

“Of course, Emperor Belos. You can rely on me.”

Okay, okay, okay, he just had to find and kill this thing quick. He skipped lunch, re-reading the reports of the demon. It always appeared in the same spot at around the same time—luckily during his report-reading time, not in the time he would be in the throne room. Simple, easy, go to spot, kill monster, get on with life.

Hunter took a deep breath. Okay. He’d just go with the patrol tomorrow. No big deal.

Patrol, reading a few more reports as roamed his set area.

You wished for something new to break up the monotony, he scolded himself, tucking reports away on his way back.

Training—nope, he was too tired. Not today. He was hungry, too, but mostly he was just. Exhausted. He kept himself together long enough to get to his room, then passed out on his bed.

What time is it?

Hunter blinked blearily at the setting sun outside—past dinner, then. That was fine, he was fine. He’d gotten sleep, and that was what really mattered.

Alarm. Shut it off.

Hunter peeled himself off of his bed with a groan. He didn’t remember falling asleep again.

Maybe I should leave the demon hunt for tomorrow.

No. Nope. He’d put it off long enough, waiting for its normal appearance time instead of tracking it down. He just needed to grit his teeth and get it done.

So after his time guarding the emperor, he went out with the next patrol. And then, there it was, a giant cat-like creature with bat wings and the tail of a scorpion. The rest of the patrol assumed defensive positions, and Hunter zipped forward, shooting bolts of magic at the creature. It yowled, swiping a paw at him. Hunter just barely dodged it—his mind was fuzzy, slow. Maybe he should have made an effort to eat something this morning. Another blast of magic—but that just seemed to be irritating it. Hunter zipped to the side, hitting a tree with his magic instead. It crashed down on top of the demon, pinning it, and he came in for a closer look. Where was its weak—

Hunter rolled to the side as its tail stabbed down towards him. It grazed his leg, and hot pain flooded from the wound.

Too slow, too slow, too slow.

Wait—

Hunter dodged the next tail strike, then slammed his staff against the creature’s tail, using a burst of magic to send the tip of the tail into the creature’s eye. It howled, thrashing.

The scouts jogged up, binding the demon. Some help they’d been—no wonder this thing had been terrorizing people. “Sir! Are you alright?”

Hunter waved them away. “Fine. Just a scratch. Can you handle this?”

“Sir!”

“Good.”

Hunter climbed onto his staff, warping away. Ow—that stung. It was just a scratch, but the creature’s venom made the whole thing throb and itch. He didn’t think it was deadly—none of its attacks on citizens had been fatal, and even stabbing itself in the eye hadn’t killed it. But it sure did hurt.

It’s fine, it’s fine.

Back to the coven. Wrap up the leg, sew up the rip in his pant leg, slap a healing patch on to stop the pain so he could carry through the rest of the day.

Finally eat a meal—but not scarf it down like he wanted to, because other coven members were there, so slow and dignified it was.

Those reports were piling up—I’ll do them later.

Pass out, barely managing to hang up his uniform.

Alarm. Shut it off.

Hunter didn’t move, just staring up at the ceiling, his leg throbbing and pulsing.

Come on. You can do it. Just like every other day. Just… get up.

Just five more minutes. Five more minutes, and then we’ll get up.

No. You have to catch up on all of those reports—because if you can’t get the reports done, you won’t even be caught up to today, and it will just pile up, and you won’t be able to do Covention plans.

Hunter pulled the alarm demon off.

You can do it.

No one will notice if you’re struggling as long as you continue to succeed.

One day at a time.

[crystalas]

Hind Sight

This is both inspired and a sort of prequel to Starfics’ answer to my prompt, I loved the idea of it so much that I started a Demon Bull Divorce AU, have fun!

Hindsight

Like a lot of things in hindsight MK could see that this was a very dumb idea.

It was a spur of the moment idea that came to him and Mei as they saw Red Son in the garage with his signature jacket hanging up because said fire demon was currently up to his elbows in tuk-tuk engine bits.

Red Son had just shown up at the noodle store one day declaring that he was there to ‘pay off his father’s debt’ after the whole lunar new year event. Everyone was a bit suspicious at first but Mei and MK decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, after all they knew he wasn’t all evil. True to his word he helped out with fixing stuff and had offered to upgrade the Tuk-tuk, after a few weeks they had managed to convince him to hang out with them after work as well.

That day MK had figured out how to shrink himself and after showing Mei she grinned and suggested they surprise Red Son with it.

Which was the aforementioned very dumb idea.

Said idea was for MK to shrink himself and then have Mei put him in Red Son’s jacket pocket, and when Red Son put it back on, have Mei ask the fire demon if he has seen MK and when he said no ask him to check his pockets…boom! Itty MK!

So, the joke was set, a shrunk MK in place and Mei was now walking up to Red Son as he clambered out of the Tuk-Tuk’s mechanical guts wiping away the grease from his hands.

“Hey Red boy” she beamed.

“Hey dragon horse girl” he said back as he got up.

“Have you seen MK?”

“No but I need to show him how to operate the upgrades…” he began but stopped when he looked at the clock on the garage wall, his smile dissolved into mild panic.

“Is that the time?!” he yelped and rushed past Mei grabbing his coat, igniting his hands to burn off all the grease and oil that had clung to him still and began to make a move for the door. “I’m sorry I need to get home tonight, tell Noodle boy I’ll show him tomorrow, okay?” Red Son yammered quickly.

“Red wait!” Mei cried as he vanished into a swirl of fire.

“Did you check your pockets?” she whimpered sheepishly.

 MK felt like he was in a weird fair ground ride, cushioned in fabric and being swung around like on a rollercoaster; it was kind of fun. Not to mention he found a wrapped candy in here and at his current size it was as big as a pillow! He could hear Mei and Red Son talking and waited for his que but then things got very bumpy and then felt very hot and weird for a second as he felt his whole body move in a way that shouldn’t be possible for him before the background ambience of the city suddenly died into a hushed sound of far-off clanking and whirring.

He poked his head out of the pocket to see he was now in an old Chinese style mansion but it was underground and hewn from the rock itself, the walls were adorned with demon Bull family heirlooms and pictures all showing the grand history of the conquering demon clan. MK could hear Red Son muttering to himself.

“I’ve got enough time to check on the projects and get in my best clothes…did I remember to check the repair schedule for the clones?”

MK was about to poke out of the pocket and announce himself when Red Son stopped by a large door that seemed to lead to a main hall, he seemed to hesitate near the entrance as MK and no doubt Red Son could hear angry raised voices.

“How is it I was the one stuck under a mountain but you are the one stuck in the past?” Demon Bull King demanded.

“I am thinking of our legacy and heritage, things you seem keen to throw away!” Princess Iron Fan retorted.

“Our pursuit of power has only brought us trouble!” came the angry reply “We need to move with the times!”

“Listen to you!” Princess Iron Fan screeched “You sound that useless son of ours!”

MK poked out of the pocket and looked up at Red Son who looked forlorn but not surprised as he carried on past the door his shoulders hunched over as he hurried through. Red Son came to a kitchen that seemed big enough to feed a whole court full of people but it was sadly empty and hollow except for one corner where a bull clone was currently working at a stove top. It saw Red Son and bowed respectively.

“I don’t think family meal time will be happening tonight” Red Son declared “so I will be taking my evening meal in my room…again…” the bull clone nodded and got back to preparing said meal. Red Son continued walking through the vacant halls as the vicious shouting ebbed away to quiet muffled sounds. He came to his room and sat at his desk; MK looked around to see his room unlike the rest of the castle had a bit of life to it. There were posters of car designs and movie mechs adorning the walls, a work table filled with small cabinets of tools and gear and what looked to be a shelf filled with scrolls and old tomes. MK had wondered why someone as tidy as Red Son would have what looked to be an arranged pile of tinfoil and fabric in a corner of his room before he realised that must his bed. He remembered Pigsy saying how some demons prefer nests to human style beds.

Okay I really need to show myself before things get even more awkward MK decided and he started to climb out but froze when he heard the door open, Red Son turned to see his mother glaring at him and MK quickly dived back into the safety concealment of the jacket.

“You’ve ruined him” she hissed, and MK could feel Red Son flinch. “Your father was a proud mighty demon King who conquered whole armies alone and made the heavens fear him and now looked at what you have done!”

“Isn’t this better?” Red Son said quietly “I mean…this way we won’t have to worry about him being hurt or sealed… aah!” came the pain gasped as MK could hear a very sharp and painful smack, MK grabbed the fabric of the pocket as Red Son’s whole body violently jerked to the side.

“Be quiet you worthless whelp!” she snarled “I kept our family name safe and proud for centuries and in one year you’ve weakened your father, the great Demon Bull King to the point that he wants to ‘settle down peacefully’!” she said the last bit dripping with venom and MK wished for Red Son to speak up or say something or at the very least move from where he was sitting but he didn’t.

“I’m sorry mother…” was all he managed after a moment of silence.

“Sorry doesn’t undo what you have done!” she spat and MK listened to the sound of her shoes moving away, “Sometimes I wish you had never returned!” she exclaimed coldly before shutting the door.

The fabric around him lurched as Red Son moved and he could feel energy pulse around him like the sky before lightning struck, it was only then did MK realised how dumb this idea really was. Red Son ignites into flames when upset or angry and it’s pretty obvious his clothes are fire proof to deal with that.

MK wasn’t fire proof…

MK made a mad scramble out of the pocket and leapt away just in time for a massive inferno engulfed where he had been hiding and everything else around it. He landed on the cold stone floor and patted himself down to make sure nothing was on fire and once he was sure he wasn’t smouldering he looked back up at the crackling fire ball that was his friend. Red Son still hadn’t moved from the desk but was now hunched over it his hands clawing into his fiery hair his eyes tightly shut but flames still leaked out and his whole body was shuddering as he tried to control his breathing.

MK decided that maybe he should give the fire demon with known anger issues some time to breathe and started to make his way to hide in the nest till he seemed to have calmed down but as he tiptoed his way across the room Red Son sensed the movement. The fire evaporating into the air as Red Son turned around and scanned the room, he glanced down to see a tiny MK in mid sneak.

Red Son looked at MK confused.

MK looked at Red Son worried.

There was a pregnant pause.

“Heh heh …Ta da!” MK said weakly and held out his hands as if to show off “Look what I can do now!”

“Noodle boy?” Red Son muttered quietly as his brain tried to fathom him being there before it clicked that he was and what that might imply. “How long have you been here?” he asked a look of dread falling on his face.

“Oh pssh!” MK tried to dismiss “Not long…no not long at all!”

“Noodle boy” Red Son growled, “How long?”

“… … …” MK struggled to come up with a decent excuse before sighing and returning to his full size, if they were going to have this talk he wanted to be able to look him in face. “Since you made a mad dash out of the garage…”

Red Son gave a groan and covered his face before returning to slump on the desk.

“I know this is going to sound dumb but is everything ok?” MK inquired, “I don’t know how demon families work but that…didn’t sound good.”

“Everything’s fine Noodle boy!” Red Son declared sharply, “My parents are just…going through a rough patch, that is all!”

“A rough patch huh?” MK muttered before walking over to the desk and lightly touching Red Son’s face where the red mark showing where his mother had slapped him was now fading away. How many times had that happened and no one knew thanks to demon healing powers? Red Son batted his hand away and snarled angrily.

“Yes!” he snapped and glared at his desk.

Things were clicking into place in MK’s mind, in hind sight he should have wondered why Red Son showed up out of the blue and wanted to pay off some demon debt, why he had wanted to stay around them as long as possible and even agreed to hang out in the evenings and only on certain days [apparently for family meal times] would he actually go home before anyone else.

MK remembered in the first week of Red Son coming over, Pigsy finally gave in and let Red Son help by telling him to try and get his old tricky stove working again. Red Son had not only fixed it but cleaned it up and gave it a full work through and when he was finished the thing looked and worked as if brand new. Pigsy in his joy of getting his stove back to its prime for free patted Red Son on the back and declared he had paid back the debt in spades.

MK had wondered that day why Red Son had looked so upset but had dismissed it when a moment later the fire demon had gone on a tirade about how insulting it was that Pigsy thought his father’s life was worth only an afternoon of labour.

Maybe Pigsy and Tang had cottoned on a lot sooner than he had because after that they would always find little things for Red Son to do to ‘pay back the debt’.

“Red Son” Mk said as these thoughts mulled in his mind “Was there even a debt to pay off?”

Red Son turned to face him, he fidgeted with his hands for a few moments before sighing.

“I…I…I thought you would be more at ease if you thought that I was honoured bound to behave…”

“Why didn’t you just say something?”

“Like what?!” Red Son retorted “Please may I come over here because I rather spend my days with my enemies rather than my parents because they’re constantly fighting and I can’t do anything to fix it?!” Red Son jaw snapped shut and his hair flared up angrily. “Because they don’t! Fight all the time…I mean…” he exclaimed as he tried to back pedal out of the conversation.

MK watched Red Son and felt a wave of pity come over for him, it was like looking into a mirror of seven years ago. He could almost feel the emotions Red Son must be going through right now, the uncertainty of what was going to happen next, the guilt of not being able to stop it, that gnawing anxiety of thinking if he was to blame somehow. And that horrible cold fear of knowing that sooner or later one of them will be coming up to take their frustration out on someone who won’t fight back…

He thanked the gods regularly that he was fortunate enough that it was Pigsy that caught him dump diving behind his store, how different would his life had been if Pigsy and Tang hadn’t taken him in? He probably had starved to death on the streets that winter.  

“Everything was supposed to get better when Father came back…” Red Son muttered to himself but was jolted back into the room as MK put his hands on his shoulders.

“Your parents are going through some stuff right now, so do you want to hang out at my place while they work it out?”

“What?” Red Son spluttered.

“Maybe they just need some space I dunno” MK said, “but what your mom did was not okay, and I’m worried about you”

“Why?”

“Because we’re friends you dummy!” MK laughed “and friends help each other even without demon debts to pay!”

Red Son stood up and pulled out a duffle bag from his wardrobe, he started to fill it with clothes, a stuff bull toy that looked to be antique and over-night necessities.

“You seem to have experience with this sort of thing” Red Son ventured quietly as MK helped him put his tools away in a box for travel.

“Let’s just say I’ve been where you are” MK said softly.

“In your experienced opinion…will me not being here helped my parents to reconcile?”

MK swallowed a hard lump in his throat, he didn’t know if it helped with his parents because he ran away from home and as far as he knows they never came looking for him. Mk was on the streets for three weeks before that fated night at Pigsy’s and it’s been seven years since then and he’s only ever caught a glimpse of them while during his deliveries on the streets.

“Sure, they will” MK answered with a smile “I hope so!”

Red Son left a note telling his parents exactly where he was and how to contact him before they left.

MK wasn’t all that surprised when after explaining the situation Pigsy happen to have a spare fold out bed in the store room.

[p4lparker]

Finding Myself

It had been weeks since Stiles and I had last seen each other alone. I guess we both took to heart what his dad said about cooling off for a little while. I'd texted. I'd called. Hell I'd even made them an edible arrangement. Still nothing.

Stiles avoided me at all costs and if I saw the sheriff, he avoided all eye contact with me. Both stung just as much as the other. I was sick of staring at my phone and hoping for a notification from the youngest Stilinski. I was sick of waiting around for him to pick me back up again, like I was some misfit toy. So the rave Lydia had mentioned earlier was becoming more and more tempting as the minutes ticked by.

Luckily this time; there was no Kanima, or ninja demons, just a bunch of kids fist pumping and wearing masks to look forward to. Obviously, the rave had a theme; masquerade. It was supposed to make the evening more mysterious, or at least that's what Lydia said. And as usual, I just agreed- it was less painful that way. I blew my cheeks out and held my breath, before finally texting the strawberry blonde a simple "I'm in." Before deciding to get ready for the event.

Showering and shaving, before drying off and piling all of my damp hair to the top of my head. I pondered what to wear. My hair was taken care of: out of the way was always the best option on nights like tonight. I searched through the closet, and as I did- I received a message from Lydia.

"Wear the dress." It was a simple command. That sent butterflies hammering against the inside of my stomach and chest. 'The dress' was a slinky black number the queen bee herself had picked up for me. It was short and backless- meaning I would have to forgo wearing a bra, but for one night, I'm sure it wouldn't matter too much. And Lydia had said it was perfect for me. I obviously had no choice but to accept the ostentatious and revealing dress and hide it in the back of my closet. I had refused to wear it several times, deeming it to 'special'. But tonight I was deciding to throw caution to the wind. To let myself loose. And to follow my fashionably infallible friends advice. Applying a light layer of makeup, mainly focusing on my eyes and lips; the two places people would see the most of. A brush of a smoky eye, and a smearing dark lipstick and I was set to go. Pulling on a pair of not as scruffy converse, I pushed my phone, keys and purse into a small bag and set off from my room. Rushing through the apartment to avoid anyone seeing me dressed like this, I waited at the curb for Lydia to pull up in her car; she was the designated driver for tonight, meaning the rest of the girls could drink. Which I was thankful for, as I felt like I needed it. The radio was blasting a bunch of songs to get us in the mood; Kira had made a CD specially for the occasion. And it was working, the fast paced music was getting us all in the mood and excited for the rest of the night. Lydia drove us through the less busy streets of Beacon Hills, and slowly navigating her way through the warehouse district; because obviously the party had to be held in an abandoned warehouse. Soon Lydia pulled over and gestured for us all to get out. Once we were all stationed beside her car, she paced in front of us and handed us all a masquerade mask; all varying, Alison had a black feathered one that covered one side of her face, Lydia herself had a golden mask that covered the majority of her face, Kira had an ornate looking red mask that covered her eyes and most of her cheeks, and mine was a black mask made entirely from lace. They all seemed a little too fussy to me, but that was what Lydia deemed acceptable so we all just went with it. Attaching the mask before we all walked in sync to the entrance; the only thing you needed to get in was a business card with a masquerade mask on it.

Once we entered the warehouse, it was covered with people. Writhing bodies pressed tightly against each other, and the majority weren’t even dancing- they were trying to make their way through the crowds. The music was fast paced and pounding so loudly I could feel the echo within my chest, it rumbled through the ground and seemed to make the people within the warehouse vibrate with its ambience. Lydia looked at us all in turn.

“Time to divide and conquer ladies..” Was all she shouted before turning and grabbing hold of the nearest guy and dragging him further into the crowd. Alison and Kira were the next to disappear, heading off in the general direction Lydia ventured- I on the other hand just stood and basked in the atmosphere. The lights were flashing, lasers making pretty patterns in the air and on the barely visible floor. There was smoke pouring from above, as well as sparks which created a dangerous vibe. And the strobe lights made everything seem like it was going in slow motion- making my eyes feel jerky. I breathed in a deep breath of air before wandering towards the bar. Once I got there I had a better vantage point to observe anything and everything. The warehouse was almost chaotic, its walls holding at least a thousand bodies. If not more. The only problem was, I recognised only three of those bodies to begin with. I was surrounded by strangers, and it was beginning to make me feel very isolated and lonely.

 "Hey there.." Was shouted in my ear, allowing me to hear the words over the booming music. Turning my head in the direction of the voice, I saw a girl about my age. Though I couldn't really tell through the silver mask that covered her face. Her identity was a secret, much like everybody's at this rave was.

"Hey.." I yelled back.

"You looked a little lonely? Over here all by yourself, so I thought you could use the company, maybe even a dance partner!" She exclaimed, moving her head to rest near my ear. I could feel her breathe, like a cool breeze as it fanned against the skin of my neck- in the too hot warehouse, all of the bodies were causing the temperature to rise uncomfortably. The sudden change of hot to cold caused Goosebumps to rise, and gave me a fluttering in my belly. Ignoring the feeling I tried to think of a reply, that wouldn't make me sound stupid. Or more stupid than I looked just standing there not doing anything, I wasn't even sure if I was breathing properly. This mysterious girl was causing my brain to freeze.

"I'm not lonely.. I was just being alone. And watching. I was watching the crowd.. It's kind of mesmerising..." I yelled back, moving my head closer to her ear, almost copying her movements. Before I mentally face palmed. 'Mesmerising, watching'? I sounded like a freak. I watched her profile, though I could only see her eyes and lips I knew she was gorgeous. And the way she held herself, she was confident too, which only made her more attractive. Her eyes were a bright blue, one that almost matched the colour of a the sky on a cloudless summer day- her lips were full and pouty, smothered in a red gloss; making them resemble a juicy red apple. As the thought flittered across my mind, the girl beside me took a bite of her bottom lip. Almost as if she knew what I was thinking, a small smirk tugging at the corners of her delectable looking mouth. Before I knew what I was doing I felt my own bottom lip being drawn into my own mouth. I could feel myself being drawn to the girl; and I momentarily wondered why I wasn’t jealous of the obvious sex appeal she oozed. I watched her, closely- almost too closely and vaguely wondered if she felt uncomfortable with the scrutiny she was under.

“Well maybe a drink now and then a dance later?” The girl murmured into my ear, her head now resting on my shoulder- her pouty lips dangerously close to my neck, sending shivers down my spine. With no words to be found lingering in my mouth or my mouth or brain- I just nodded dumbly. She raised an elegant hand and made a gesture the bar tender seemed to understand. Once our order was place, she turned to look at me. I could feel her eyes trail all over my face, before settling on my lips and lingering there for short while- before shooting back up to my eyes and letting a smile paint her own lips. Our drinks were placed in front of us, we both raised them and toasted, before drinking them. Soon she had ordered us both a few more; how many, I couldn’t remember. But during the time it took for us to drink them; she had let her arm slip over my shoulders, she’d gripped my waist and let her hand trail down my arm to link her hand with my own as we finished off our latest drink. Every time her skin made contact with my own it was like getting a static shock- a tingling sensation over took my skin when it met hers. Soon enough she was pulling on my hand and leading me out onto the dance floor.

It was filled with other people, we were all crammed together tightly- forcing us all to mingle together. The beat was pounding almost as loud as my heart against my rib cage. And the girl who pulled me to the tightly packed space, raised our joined hands above our heads- before swaying her hips and beginning to dance. I stood awkwardly with one arm raised above my head as the girl who was sending shivers down my body wiggled her hips to the music. The girl who was still swaying her hips, dragged me closer to her. She let her hands trail down to my hips, and began to move them in time with her own- once she thought I had the hang of the movement she moved her hands, and let me sway my hips myself. She pulled me even closer to her, her fingers grazing over the exposed skin on my back, dragging up and down my spine. I let my own hands wander as I let go of my inhibitions, they finally found a home in her hair- knotting themselves in the tresses. All the while we were moving, our eyes were locked; her gaze driving into my own, a grin on her lips, I realised my own face must have been doing something similar. I let the music guide me, and she did to.

“What’s your name?” I called into her ear, her own face began nuzzling into my neck. I felt her lips graze the skin in barely there kiss. Which sent my body onto high alert; it was like every touch she gave me was multiplied by a thousand.

“No names. We don’t need to know names- we’ll know bodies instead..” Was all she muttered into my ear before attacking my neck with her lips. They kissed up the column of my throat delicately, before deciding that she needed to make more of an impression. Her teeth came out to play, and bit down on the sensitive skin- sending shockwaves directly into my centre, before she suckled the skin, being sure to leave a noticeable mark. I bit my lip to hold in the moan that was desperate to escape; not that it would be heard by those surrounding us, but it would be heard by the girl who’d allowed her lips to make a home on my neck. I felt her lips trail lower, dragging down on the skin as they travelled lower to my chest. I felt her hands do a similar action as her face nuzzled itself into my chest, her hands tickling gently at the sides of my thighs. She shimmied her way back up so her face was directly in front of mine. Her eyes locked with mine before glancing at my lips quickly. I wasn’t sure if she was asking for permission, but I granted it anyway- nodding jerkily. As her lips made contact with my own, I felt butterflies swarm around my belly. Kissing her, was nothing like kissing Stiles. Her lips were soft and tentative- they tasted of watermelon and the shots we’d been drinking. Her hand, gently brushed against my cheek, and eventually when I needed to take a breath- she pulled away slowly. My lips still pouted, and I knew I wanted to feel hers pressed against them again. I tangled my fingers in her hair and coaxed her mouth towards my own, our lips pressed together gently before I added more pressure. Her lips moved against my own, slicking over them and making me wish I could feel them constantly press against my own. I was beginning to feel adventurous, as her fingers dragged up and down my spine, I let my tongue slip out and gently lick across her full bottom lip.

She quickly allowed me access to the secrets her lips held, but not before she gave my tongue a playful nip. It slipped into her mouth and began a sensual dance with her own; not too unlike the way our hips were moving together. I could feel warmth bubble within my centre, and it astounded me. She’d only kissed me once, and I was dying to have more of her. Taste her skin, and feel other parts of her body pressed tightly against my own. I could only imagine how her fingers would feel stroking up  other parts of my body- I longed to let my fingers stroke over her own body to find out if the skin hidden beneath the shorts and T-shirt she was wearing, was as soft and as smooth as it seemed. Our lips remained firmly pressed against each other, our tongues still tangling together as she gently tugged on my hand and led me out of the crowd; I was impressed as she was managing to do all of this whilst walking backwards in a very populated area, I couldn’t even walk the way I was facing. I didn’t know what she had planned until I felt myself being turned around and my back was pressed against the wall. The coolness of the brick, felt soothing against my too hot skin. The girl finally let her lips leave my own, hers leaving a blazing trail down my neck. She set to work, creating her own masterpieces on my skin, it was like I was a blank canvas for her to decorate as she saw fit. I stood, leaning against the wall- trying to regain some semblance of reality. I needed the wall to support me, as I’m pretty sure my legs were beginning to feel like jelly. She raised both of my hands above our heads and held them against the wall with one of hers.

With her free hand, her fingers walked delicately down my arms, tickling the skin lightly as they went. They continued down the side of my body- moving to settle on my hip before gliding back up to my breast. Gently cupping it, I let a moan slip from my lips- she took that as an invitation to squeeze me, and let her lips flow back to my own and claim them. I felt her tongue slip inside my mouth and tangle with my own; her hand that was holding my own, slipped down my body and rest on my thigh before she pulled it up to rest around her hip, the hand on my breast squeezing more firmly. I let my own hands wander her body, gently feeling the soft skin. I let my hands settle on her hips, letting my thumbs slip under the thin material of it and felt the skin beneath. The kiss was almost violent, our teeth clashed together as we needed to feel more of each other. She let her hips press into my own, beginning to rub against me. Her thigh brushing against me in just the right way, making me wishes we were somewhere more private. I pulled my lips away from hers, just as her fingers trailed from my hip to my inner thigh- I let out a gasp before burying my face in her neck, letting my lips kiss against her slightly sweaty skin. I felt the need to mark her as my own, as the thought appeared in my brain; my body moved of its own accord, teeth nibbling and biting at the delicate skin before my lips suckled it softly. The answering groan, only fuelled my desire, I sucked harder and let my teeth sink further into the supple skin. Her fingers trailed the skin of my inner thigh before brushing gently over the centre of my panties. I gasped as they made contact. Before my mind could even catch up to my body movements, I was ripping my lips from her body and dragging her to the entrance of the club.

I dragged her to the outside of the building, shoving her against the wall. I let my lips find hers and began to kiss her again. Her lips were smooth and inviting against my own. She was pliable and allowed me to have my way with her. Letting my hands grope over her skin almost greedily, I let my hands grasp handfuls of her butt. Squeezing the cheeks in my hands and pulling her body flush against my own. We continued to kiss of some time, in all honesty I wasn’t sure how long had passed. All I knew was I wanted more time with her. I pulled away from her lips almost reluctantly- and her disappointed moan let me know she felt the same.

“We need somewhere more private than against a warehouse wall..” I muttered against her lips before pulling back fully. I gripped her hand in my own and led her to the street, I waited patiently for cab to pull over and notice us- as  I was focused on finding a ride, the girl behind me let her lips smother my neck and shoulder in kisses. I let content sighs slip from my lips and watched excitedly as a cab pulled up in front of us. I opened the door quickly and pushed her in first before settling in next to her, my hand gripping gently on her thigh as she snuggled next to me.

“Where to?” The driver called over his shoulder, his eyes fixed on the way the girl was rubbing her hand over my breast. I felt my brain stutter before I blurted out an address that wasn’t my own. The girl had no idea where we were going, but the driver seemed to know the route well enough- so I allowed myself to become distracted by the beauty who was occupied trying to slide her hands up my legs and into my panties. Biting my lip to gold in my moans as her fingers pressed against the material and rubbed it against my most sensitive skin. Before I knew what was happening, the cab was pulling to a slow and then a stop outside the Stilinski residence. I threw the money through the window and into the drivers hand before pushing out the car and dragging the gorgeous girl behind me. I pulled her up to the door and knocked to let Stiles know we were there. The booze was still sloshing around in my bloodstream and made me think the Stilinski residence would be the perfect place for me to ‘know this girl’s body’. I didn’t think of the consequences of seeing him after so long, I was only thinking of how quickly I could feel her against me. The door opened to a groggy looking Stiles; his eyes were blurry and he was only wearing a pair of sweatpants. I giggled at his appearance, and his eyes widened as he clocked the girl who was biting at my shoulder.

“Y/N… W-w-What’re you uhh what’re you d-doing here?” Stiles stuttered, he was still watching as I turned my head to kiss the girl behind me.

“You weren’t at the rave. Why weren’t you at the rave?” I murmured as I pulled my lips away from hers.

“Uhh no. No, I wasn’t.. This is happening right now…” Stiles muttered, rubbing his hands over his face. I giggled again as he pulled us both through the door and waved at the neighbours who were peeking from their curtains- I peered over Stiles’ shoulder and waved too, laughing loudly as I did. The girl was still letting her hands explore my body from behind; she gripped my butt tightly and began to wriggle my dress up my hips to expose the dark panties I had on underneath. I gasped and tried to shake her hands off. I could see Stiles watching, his chocolate eyes were wide and his mouth was dropped open. I grinned at him, gently tugging on his hand and pulling him towards me. I let my lips kiss gently on his neck. Looking up I watched as his eyes closed and his mouth opened slightly wider, his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. I focused my attention fully on him, I lifted my hand and gently grasped his chin in between my fingers and thumb- coaxing his head in line with my own, and I let my lips meet his in a gentle kiss. As our lips touched, my body felt like it was on fire- in a way only he could manage without even touching me. The girl let out a whine behind me, as Stiles’ tongue slipped into my mouth. Suddenly, Stiles was pushing me backwards and away from him- he kept his hands wrapped around my elbows as if to hold me at bay. He breathed deeply.

“Y/N, what are you even doing here?” Stiles whispered out, shaking his head slightly as if to clear it. I looked at him, partially confused- until I remembered he’d been ignoring me for a couple of weeks. I stepped back.

“I missed you. And you’ve been avoiding me for weeks. I can’t stand it.. I needed to see you.. Stiles, please..” I whispered, the girl came up behind me and attached her lips to my neck and shoulder again. I could feel the skin bruising under the pressure of her lips, and it caused a loud moan to make itself known. Stiles stood, his eyes were glued to the way she was kissing me. I locked my gaze with his own, watching his reactions. I felt the girl smooth her hands up my arms, I looked over my shoulder at her to see her also watching the boy before us. Looking back to Stiles as she slowly pulled the sleeves of my dress from my shoulders. The material slipped from my shoulders and exposed my chest to Stiles- who pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. The fabric fell to my hips and stuck there, until her small hands pulled it down gently. She kissed down my back as she followed the path of the material- sending shivers up my body.

“She’s missed you Stiles.. just look at the way her body misses you..” She murmured over my shoulder as she pulled my panties down my legs too. She stroked her hands up the inside of my legs before they caressed my inner thighs- getting closer and closer to the place I was desperate to be touched. I watched as Stiles clenched his fists by his side, before he pulled them up and crossed them over his chest. The girl let her fingers venture inside my folds; a loud groan echoed around the room.

“Are you going to let her apologise or not?” She called, as she pulled me backwards to the couch, she stood in front of me and gave me a gentle kiss before pushing me down on to it. She followed me down and let her lips caress my own in a soft kiss. Her finger tracing all over my skin before burying them inside my core once more, she rubbed gently on the sensitive bundle of nerves, and spread my wetness over me completely. Her fingers slipped inside me and my answering moan echoed loudly throughout the room. I couldn’t suppress the noises that escaped my mouth as she continued to explore me. She was right; we didn’t need names- she was already familiar with my body, but I had no idea about her. She continued to pump her fingers inside- grinding her palm on my clit and stimulating me further towards the bliss I was desperate to taste. I turned my head to look at Stiles, he was perched on the chair watching the scene before him- one hand covering his mouth and the other was palming at the bulge in his trousers. I moaned, the sight pushing me further towards that edge- as I watched him pleasure himself the girl buried her fingers deeper within me, curving them upwards and tickling that particular spot within that made me see stars. And all of a sudden but not quickly enough; my back was arching from the sofa, my toes were curling, and a near scream was stumbling from my lips, my legs shook and the tight feeling deep within me finally burst and showered me with pleasure.

Once I was finally calm enough, I pushed the girl off of me- we rolled and landed with a thump on the floor by the sofa. We both collapsed in giggles and our lips met in a giggly kiss- full of clashing teeth and warring tongues. I rolled myself on top of her and began to worship her body; kissing any patch of skin I could find until it wasn’t enough. My fingers finding the hem of her T-shirt, pulling it up her body in a rush. My eyes wandered and then zoned in on the lacy bra that held her chest captive from my salivating lips- not bothering to undo the article, just forcing the cups down and off the delicious skin beneath. I didn’t give her time to breath before I attacked her breasts with my lips, tongue and teeth. Nipping and sucking leaving purple splotches all over marking her as my own. I pulled back gently, and stared at the picture I had painted with my mouth. My lips had a mind of their own as they kissed lower over her belly to the waist of her shorts. I frowned, not being able to any further until the offending fabric had been removed. I set to and unbuttoned  and unzipped them before trying to shuffle them down her body; more and more supple skin being revealed to my greedy eyes. She lifted her hips and aided me in my mission to get her naked. I looked at her face to see her biting her lip in anticipation. Once the shorts were finally off, I tugged her panties to the side and let my eyes devour her. I looked to the side and watched as Stiles was leaning forward in his seat; still palming the obvious erection that was yet to be set free.

“Are you going to join us.. or just sit there like you’re watching porn..” I called, giggling as his eyes widened.

“This is really happening.. oh shit. This is really, really happening..” I heard him mutter, but he didn’t move from his position unfortunately for me. The girl below me was losing her patience quickly, she gripped my chin and tugged me towards her face- she kissed me furiously. Her other hand grasped my own and let it slide down her body and to her core. She entered our fingers together; guiding my hand in a way she appreciated from the moans dripping from her lips. I pulled back from the kiss, and let my eyes follow the movements of our hands- if it was possible, I felt myself get wetter at the mere image. Soon she was removing our fingers and she gently grasped my head, before pushing it down her body. I soon had my face in front of her centre; it was dripping and looked ready for something. I wasn’t sure what- until She whispered for me to taste her. I poked my tongue out gently, taking a tentative lick; she tasted tangy and sweet, and it made me want more. I let my tongue explore her inner most mystery, delving my tongue deeper within her. I could hear her moaning above me- I glanced my eyes to see her head being thrown back. I focused my attentions on the sensitive bundle within her- knowing how it felt to have it worshipped. I continued with my work, letting her sounds guide me; until I heard a loud growl from across the room, I looked over to see Stiles standing up from his seat, he stalked over to the pair of us. He kneeled down behind me; I felt his hands attach themselves to my butt cheeks squeezing tightly. He groaned as he manoeuvred himself to lay his chest against my back and gently kissed down the back of my neck and shoulder- before he harshly sucked a hickey onto the skin of my shoulder blade.  

I felt his hand wrap itself in my hair, he wrapped it around his knuckled and yanked upwards- pulling my head from the warmth of our companion. She let out a disappointed groan, as my tongue had left her wanting; Stiles forced my mouth to his and practically devoured my mouth with his in an open mouthed kiss- his tongue was tasting the girl’s juices that still lingered on my own tongue. During the kiss, I heard the girl let out a loud moan- but I ignored her in favour of focusing on the man before me, who was no longer ignoring me. Instead, he was setting a fire deep within me- I tingled all over for him to touch me. His hands found my hips, he hoisted me around so I was facing him fully. He looked into my eyes and I saw the normally comforting caramel brown had been turned almost black- it sent my core into a pulsing frenzy. He thrust his lips at my own and dragged me into a ferocious kiss once more; I let my trembling fingers investigate his warm chest, letting my fingers wander over his washboard abs and trail down to the hem of his sweat pants. Before giving it a tug and letting it pang back against his sensitive skin- throughout my ministrations he let whines slip through our fused lips. I began pushing the elastic from his hips- yearning to see what he was hiding beneath. It had been far too long since I was lavishing him with attention. I was determined to make him feel amazing; I wanted to hear him calling my name and groaning. I wanted him to remember how I made him feel and never want to leave me alone for long again. I wanted to make him feel good, so badly it was almost as if it was a personal need. Stiles pulled his pants down his legs and left them to rest around his knees, he then pulled his boxers to rest near them, slipping out one of the parts of him I had missed the most.

I had missed the way his expressive eyes would gloss over just before he exploded, I missed the way his long and dexterous fingers would torture me and my body before he delved them where I longed for them. I missed the way he would growl my name when I made him feel especially fantastic, I missed the way he would fill me completely almost to the point of being painful. And I was more than ready to experience all of those things with him again, tonight. The residual alcohol had since left my system, and I was thinking much more clearly- I was also more able to please him. He forced me around once more- breaking our kiss, we both breathed heavily trying to calm ourselves down. He pulled my hips to rest near his own before he pushed on my back and forced me to lie my chest on the ground- my face lingering in front of the girl’s dripping and neglected centre once more.

“I need to get something.. Y-you should look after her th-though..” was all he muttered into my ear before he left me abruptly, I yearned to feel the heat of his body crushed against my own again. I turned my head and followed his movements; he jogged up the stairs and I heard clattering and thumping before I heard his feet bounding down the stairs again. His gaze locked on mine and he frowned.

“I thought I told you to take care of her while I was getting something?” Stiles stated, his voice had changed from the one I recognised; this voice he used was low and dangerous, it sent a shockwave straight to my already slick core. I felt my mouth drop open as he stomped towards us. The girl in front of me whined and wriggled her hips as if to gain my attention, I ignored her for a moment longer- until I saw Stiles glare at me in warning. I widened my eyes before diving back between the girl’s legs and tasting her. Her joyous moans fuelled me to work her harder, I let my eyes wander to where Stiles was standing- but he was no longer there. I felt his presence behind me, his hand caressed my back and ass cheeks. Before I felt the stinging pain of one palm, landing on one cheek. I called out at the sensation; it was painful but it sent a wave of pleasure rushing through me.

“I asked you to do something, and you ignored me. Tsk, tsk..” Stiles rumbled into my ear as he drew back his hand and let his palm make contact with my butt again- causing me to moan out loud and jolt forwards further into the girl’s pussy. She moaned loudly, it was close to a scream. And suddenly, I felt her juices fill up my mouth as I continued to lick at her.

“Now, you’ll have to be punished Y/N..” Stiles growled behind me, I could faintly hear him fiddling with something- before I felt his fingers within me. He tickled at my clit before letting his fingers plunge into my core- he picked his pace quickly- quicker than I was used to, before I felt him scissoring me. Soon he withdrew his fingers, and replaced them with his length. He slammed himself into me; causing a whine to rip from my throat, the girl let her legs slip open wider and gripped at my head, to keep my face in the place she wanted it. I kept licking at her, drawing patterns over her clit- and moaning as Stiles thrust into me. His rhythm was fast, and hard and it was pushing me towards my end  quicker than I liked. He growled behind me before dropping his palm against me again, I yelled out as he continued his motions. Thrust, palm, thrust, palm, thrust, palm. This pattern continued until he pushed himself deep within me quicker- at a pace I thought was impossible unless he had supernatural help. I could tell he was nearing his end- the same as the girl and myself. Our cries blended together until; she was screaming, I was moaning so loudly it would shame a porn star.

“Y/N!” Was growled as we all jumped into that pleasure together. Her juices once more coated my lips and chin, Stiles let his load fill the condom he was wrapped in and I felt my own climax dripping down my thighs and onto Stiles’ sweatpants. Stiles ran his fingers down my spine before tugging me up so my back was resting against his heaving chest. The girl laid still on the floor, her legs open wide with a grin on the bottom of her face; the only part we could see. It was then I remembered neither of us had taken off our masks. I giggled and slumped into Stiles’ chest, Stiles let his chin rest on my shoulder and soon joined in with  my laughter. The girl before us, frowning before she shuffled up. She positioned herself in front of me and let her lips meet my own in a gentle peck. She quickly gathered her clothes, and pulled them onto her sweaty body. I watched as she grabbed my bag and pulled out my phone, trying something in and then placing it back in my bag. I too stood up and pulled Stiles with me, he grabbed a blanket from the couch and wrapped it around my body before ridding himself of the used condom and pulling his pants and boxers back into place. We both walked with the girl in silence to the front door, before she left through it she gave me one last passionate kiss- letting her tongue taste my own.

“You have my number in case you wasn’t a repeat..” Was all she muttered against my lips before she walked out the door and down the street- hailing a cab which conveniently drove down the street at that point. We watched as she got in and drove off. Once she was out of sight, Stiles reached in front of me and closed the door, before tugging on the blanket and leading me back into the lounge. He plonked himself down on the sofa tiredly, pulling me down to land on his lap with a quiet ‘Ooof’ as I landed. He pulled my legs sideways and laid them on the other cushion. I settled my head on his shoulder and gently kissed the crook of his neck as he sighed contentedly.

“I’m sorry. So, so sorry.. I thought I was doing the right thing.” Stiles whispered into my hair, his lips pressing against is in soft kisses. “Please, Y/N- forgive me..” He begged in whispered tones.

“I’ll never leave you alone again.. I can’t handle it..” he continued, I just nodded and pressed a kiss to his shoulder, then his neck, his chin and finally the corner of his lips.  He looked down at me, his eyes were sad- until I nodded my forgiveness. He smiled gently before pecking my lips a few times. He curled his arms around my body and stood from the sofa- I let out a small ‘Eeep’ and wrapped my arms around his neck as he carried me to his room- kicking open the door, and then shut again. He walked the last few steps into the room and then plopped me down on his bouncy bed. And chuckled at me flopping around. I stared up at him as he stepped closer to me, spreading my knees I welcomed him between them and let his lips find my own in a sweet kiss. He pulled away a short time later and stepped back, I watched as he left the room and heard his thumping feet as he bound down the stairs. I flopped back onto the bed and let his scent and sheets surround me. When he came back into the room, I was comfortable and edging sleep. I felt him slip under the sheets behind me- wrapping his arms around my tired body and leaving a gentle kiss on my forehead before I finally let slumber claim me. All was well again; I was in Stiles’ arms once more.

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

[@redrequiem has requested some time-travel fix-it Yunmeng brothers, and here it is! I hope this is something like what you were hoping for ^_^] (Also posted to Ao3)

[Writing masterpost]

--

In hindsight, Jiang Cheng can admit that chasing blindly after the latest demonic cultivator of the week probably hadn’t been his smartest idea. Normally he wouldn’t let anyone even dare to suggest that let alone admit it, but, well. The disciples he had brought with him are nowhere to be found, and he’s tired. Sue him.

He looks down at the burnt-out array he’s standing in the dead center of, the unfamiliar lines of it no longer glowing red. They’re just marks on the ground, and he realizes as the breeze picks up through the forest that they’re not even permanent. Ash drifts around his feet, the characters blurring and then disappearing altogether into the breeze. There goes studying it to see if he can reverse it - not that he would because he’s not a fucking demonic cultivator but damn if it wouldn’t be nice to try to see how to undo whatever it is that has left him stranded in the middle of the woods with nothing but what he’s carrying on his person. 

The breeze carries with it the smell of green water and lotus flowers, and at first he thinks nothing of it - the scent of it is so intimately familiar that he notices it more when it’s gone than when it returns. Except he’s supposed to be on the border with Qinghe. Nowhere near the lotus lakes of Yunmeng. 

This just keeps getting fucking better and better.

----

Let it never be said that Jiang Cheng can’t find his way around the forest that surrounds his home. Getting down to the water is easy, and from there it only takes a quick look around to get his bearings to know what part of the river he’s on before he’s on his way home. He flies low over the water perched on Sandu, seething with irritation. Fucking demonic cultivators. Every time he kills one it’s like three more pop up in their place, and no one else is hunting them down to help him cut their numbers down. Not that he necessarily wants the help - better if he just does it himself. But still, it’s the principle of the thing. It’s a thankless and arduous task, and the last thing he needs is to be stuck randomly back all the way in Lotus Pier with his disciples all the way out by Qinghe. His free time to go out trailing these monsters is limited.

He barely pays a thought to Zidian sparking on his wrist as he flies closer to home, he just corrects the flow of his angry energy away from the whip automatically to keep from waking the weapon up entirely. It takes a few more moments before he registers that the weapon is still sparking even without his energy to fuel it - a few moments in which Lotus Pier comes into view, the lanterns on the docks steady in the evening air.

He alights at the end of one of the docks furthest from the main boardwalk back into the complex itself and he sheathes Sandu to take a closer look at Zidian on his hand, his irritation growing when sparks spit and flash along the length of it, utterly uninformed by his own energy. He turns his wrist this way and that as if that will help him solve the problem, and then he hears it.

“Fengmian!”

His blood goes ice cold, his entire body as still as a corpse. It doesn’t even feel like his heart is beating as he holds his breath, muscles in his jaw jumping as he clenches his teeth hard enough to give himself a headache.

“When are you going to stop running off on this fool’s errand?” Yu Ziyuan demands, voice snapping out across the water. Zidian sparks higher on his wrist in response to the anger of her former master somewhere nearby, close enough that he can hear the sneer in her voice. “They died years ago! Their boy is probably dead by now too, and you have a son right here!! Does he mean so little to you that you have to run from home every other week so you can find that boy to replace him?!”

A soft voice, low, conciliatory replies too quietly to be understood, and the breath rushes back into Jiang Cheng’s chest in a painfully sharp inhale. Mother. Father. Arguing about - what else - him and Wei Wuxian. His hand curls into a fist tightly enough around Sandu’s sheath that the worked metal designs on it threaten to puncture. He likes that pressure, he usually finds it grounding, but there’s really no comprehending or coping with the sound of his parents alive and - well, if not well then at least normal - somewhere so close. So so close. He can practically feel Yu Ziyuan’s arms around him in the last embrace she had pulled him into that day the Wen had torn his world to shreds. He can feel the phantom of Jiang Fengmian’s thumb on his cheek brushing away his tears.

The tears are real, but he has to reach up to scrub them away with his own hand. A lantern sparks to life at the end of the pier, bobbing and swaying rather than stationary, and Jiang Cheng darts into the thickest shadows thrown by the overlapping corners of one of the closest buildings, crouching down low as he peeks around the wood and there they are. Younger, alive, and as he remembers them most often - Jiang Fengmian walking sedately where he wants to go, and Yu Ziyuan storming after him to demand answers that will never satisfy her. 

His entire body aches to run to them.

“I have a duty to him, I cannot ignore it,” Jiang Fengmian says now, close enough that Jiang Cheng can hear the weariness already so present in his voice. 

“You have a duty to your own first! Do you think A-Li and A-Cheng don’t see you leaving to search for him?! What do you propose I tell them, that they’re inadequate children because I bore them for you?! That you do not love them as you love a boy who is, for all you know, already nothing more than a figment of your imagination!”

“Yu Ziyuan!”

“Jiang Fengmian!!” 

Jiang Cheng is expecting them to storm apart, to go their separate ways and seethe until the next time they come together. But...if they’re talking about Wei Wuxian like he’s not even here, if the only children in Lotus Pier are...himself and Jiang Yanli, then, he supposes, it shouldn’t surprise him that their reactions aren’t like what they will later become the more their marriage fractures apart.

Jiang Fengmian turns and sets the lantern at their feet so that he can place his hands on Yu Ziyuan’s shoulders. Jiang Cheng blinks as Zidian settles down on his wrist, finally no longer spitting little sparks under his muffling hand there in the dark. He watches with wide eyes as Jiang Fengmian sighs and pulls Yu Ziyuan to his chest and she...goes. To him. To her husband. She folds herself into the circle of his arms like she belongs there. What the fuck is happening?

“I will go out once more, no more than three days. If we can protect him, we must. I owe his father the wellbeing of his only son. It is a good lesson for the children in duty to protect those weaker than us, to extend kindness where we can.”

Yu Ziyuan is still for a long moment before she extricates herself from Jiang Fengmian’s hold and pushes him away by the arms to look up at him. Jiang Cheng can’t see her face clearly from here but he can imagine all too easily - her eyes angry and determined under the hard cut of her brows, lips pressed together in open irritation.

“Do not let this boy take your son’s rightful room in your heart or in this Sect,” she says, voice deadly calm. “I will revisit such hell on you a hundredfold for each day I see it. Do not test my patience any longer, Jiang Fengmian.” She stoops to scoop up the lantern and retreat back towards the residences, leaving Jiang Fengmian alone on the pier.

Fresh tears spring to Jiang Cheng’s eyes as he stays frozen in the shadows watching his father tip his head back to look up at the moon overhead. He stays there for a long time, lost in thought, before he heaves a sigh and turns to follow after Yu Ziyuan back into Lotus Pier.

The only other time Jiang Cheng has so desperately wanted to follow after them is the day they died. He knows he can’t. This is either a figment of his imagination, in which case it would likely end how all of his dreams of them do, or he has truly somehow been forced to travel to a time where he’s still a child, in which case they wouldn’t recognize him, nor believe him when he tells them who he is and what their future holds. He doesn’t know what will happen if he’s discovered, but it seems better not to risk it, much as he longs to run to them and collapse into their arms.

A different plan takes reluctant shape in his mind as he crouches in the shadows and watches the complex gradually go darker and darker as candles and lanterns are extinguished for the night. By the time everything is still and quiet but for the frogs in the mud and the wind in the trees, he knows what he’s going to do.

He’s going to find Wei Wuxian, and he’s going to kill him.

----

Finding Wei Wuxian is so easy he nearly laughs aloud at the sight of him. After chasing ghosts and rumors of his brother for thirteen years it’s almost anticlimactic to find him sitting on a stoop in town gnawing on a piece of..something that’s burned so black as to be inedible to anyone but the truly desperate. 

Any doubts that he may have had about this somehow being the past are thoroughly dashed as he stands there watching the boy who is without a doubt the same boy he remembers his father bringing home so many years ago. He’s hunkered down over his ‘meal’ as if afraid someone will come along and snatch it from his hands. There’s a bundle of coarse fabric beside him that may have once possibly been meant to carry vegetables or rice or any number of things, but Jiang Cheng knows from that first night together as children that it’s full of the sorts of things a young boy with nothing else to his name would consider worth keeping. An extra shirt, so riddled with holes and bare patches that it’s more rag than clothing. A blanket suitable only for swaddling a baby that he had sworn up and down that he could still curl up tightly enough to fit under as long as he didn’t mind cold toes or fingers. A few melon rinds to snack on. A grass butterfly to play with.

Jiang Cheng looks at his waif of a child and he can’t help but see all the pain he’ll come to cause in the future. He can prevent it all right here, right now. Zidian sparks on his wrist, begins to flicker to life. Little Wei Wuxian looks up and around suddenly at the noise of it, his eyes zeroing in almost instantly on the purple lightning at his side.

“Whoa!!” he cries with delight, his entire face lighting up with delight. “That’s so cool, sir!! How do you do that?!”

Zidian sputters and then flickers out again, responding to the horror in his chest that replaces the fury. He’s just a child. A child. 

He’s his brother.

Jiang Cheng holds onto the last vestiges of his fury for another long moment or two as he watches Wei Wuxian return to gnawing on his food with his back teeth as he looks up at him with wide, guileless, quicksilver eyes.

And then with a breath he shoves 13 years of blinding hatred away from his chest.

It feels like setting down a heavy pack at the end of the day. Like taking his guan out of his hair and removing the stiff shells of his Sect Leader robes until he’s stripped down to just..himself. Jiang Cheng, A-Cheng, who misses his siblings more and more with each passing day and yearns for the days when things were so much simpler. Whose grief is threatening to swallow him whole in a blaze of blistering fire.

“Do you want more to eat?” he asks his brother, small and vulnerable sitting there with nowhere else to go. Wei Ying blinks up at him and then glances at the food in his hands and back up to him. “You can say yes, Wei Ying,” he sighs and Wei Wuxian’s eyes go even wider.

“You know my name?!” he chirps, seeming torn between being afraid and excited.

“Yes. I know you. I can keep you safe and get you more food, food that isn’t burnt. Come with me.” Jiang Cheng turns on his heel with a swish of silk and he hears Wei Wuxian yelp a little before tumbling to his feet to come running after him.

“Hey!! Mister! Wait!” he calls, out of breath, and Jiang Cheng stops in his tracks so suddenly that Wei Wuxian runs into his legs with an, ‘oof’. “Ow,” he mumbles as he rubs at his head. Jiang Cheng is going to have a bruise on the back of his thigh in the exact shape of that head but he scowls as he recognizes that he really has no one to blame but himself.

“What? Aren’t you hungry?” he snaps, and Wei Wuxian blinks slowly up at him.

“Yes,” he replies as he reaches tentatively towards Zidian with one dirt-smeared hand. “But...I don’t want to get separated,” he adds, voice small, and then those little fingers are slipping into his palm. Not reaching for Zidian, then. Reaching for him. “Can I?” he whispers, eyes beginning to shine with unshed tears as he tries to hold Jiang Cheng’s limp fingers in his tight little fist. Jiang Cheng swallows past the sudden tightness in his throat and glares straight ahead for a moment before turning and kneeling on the hard-packed dirt in front of the boy. He adjusts his grip to clasp Wei Wuxian’s hand like he had when they had both been this age, when they had held hands in his room in Lotus Pier and promised to protect each other from their worst fears. 

“Yes,” he says now, chest tight. “Yes, we should not get separated again. You can hold onto me. Don’t let go, alright?” 

Wei Wuxian smiles at him wide and happy like the break of dawn and Jiang Cheng finds himself smiling in response, his eyes definitely wet again. “I’ve missed you, Wei Ying.”

He’s not prepared for Wei Wuxian to throw himself into his arms for a hug, but he immediately wraps his arms around the boy anyway and holds him close, his eyes squeezed shut against the torrent of emotions flooding through him, too numerous and too raucous to be named. So he just hugs his brother there in the middle of a street in Yunmeng, and he wonders just what the fuck they’re going to do now.

----

Lotus Pier is, of course, not an option. Not only can he not show up there dressed like the Sect Leader and wearing Zidian, but if he takes Wei Wuxian there nothing will change. Gusu’s out as well. He’d like to claim that he has some rational, thought-out reason for it, but honestly he just doesn’t see a point in letting Lan Wangji finally get what he wants after all these years, even though he’s just a boy right now. Petty? Sure. Jiang Cheng has never claimed not to be.

Lanling is an enormous ‘absolutely not’ written in bright red ink in his mind’s eye, as is Qishan. Qinghe very nearly makes the list, but then he thinks about trying to explain such esoteric, questionable events to anyone in the straightforward, bullheaded Nie Sect and he puts it under a mental column labelled, “I guess, but only if it’s absolutely, 100%, life or death necessary”. Not very promising.

In the end, there’s really only one place he can think of that’s at all viable, and so after a few days of Wei Ying eating his fill as often as necessary and sleeping almost constantly in their room in an inn a few towns away from Lotus Pier, Jiang Cheng gathers his brother up with their few meager belongings and begins the trek to a place few people know about, even among the Great Sects.

It takes another two days of travel at the pace Wei Ying is capable of maintaining with him, and then a day after that of looking for what he knows to search for in the area, but finally he finds it. Or, rather, it finds them.

“Where are we?” Wei Ying chirps from where he’s perched on his back like a sack of potatoes (potatoes with very knobbly knees that won’t quit squeezing his ribs) and Jiang Cheng shushes him, but it’s too late.

“Stop!” Jiang Cheng obeys the command and between one blink and the next there are two women blocking the path in front of him, nearly identical down to the numerous weapons strapped to their belts. And the knives leveled at his throat.

He can’t put his hands up or Wei Ying will fall off his back, but he does his absolute best to look as unthreatening as possible.

“You are trespassing on the lands of the Meishan Yu. Turn back.”

“I need to see the Grandmistress.”

“Turn back.”

“Please,” he adds, desperation beginning to bleed into his voice. Wei Ying is very still on his back, mostly hidden in his cloak, and Jiang Cheng can feel him trembling faintly. “Hold on tight,” he whispers before he lets go to brandish Zidian on his wrist for the two women to see. “I am her grandson. I need to see her, it’s urgent.”

The two guards share a glance with each other and then drift forward in sync to study the weapon on his wrist. There’s no mistaking it for anything but an artefact of the Meishan Yu. And everyone in the cultivation world knows who its current master is.

“Demonstrate,” one of the women says, the one on the left who he’s pretty sure is the one who ordered them to stop. He nods and takes a step back before holding his wrist out to the side and letting Zidian spark to life, feeding his fear and desperation into it until the whip uncoils and he’s got his hand wrapped around the hilt. Lightning spits and arcs from the whip as he lifts it to crack once into thin air before he withdraws his energy and it goes dormant again.

“I need to speak to my grandmother.”

For too long there’s nothing but the sound of the wind through the trees, Wei Ying’s too-quick breathing in his ear, and two unreadable gazes fixed on his as the Yu warriors size him up. Without any external cue that he can see, the pair of them suddenly turn at the exact same moment and begin walking up the path. Jiang Cheng scrambles to get a good hold on Wei Ying’s knee again so he can follow after them. 

----

“So - you’re from the future.”

“Yes, Popo.”

“And this boy is going to ruin it?”

Jiang Cheng looks over at where Wei Ying is studying a rack of retired spiritual swords so closely his nose is almost touching the side of one of the blades, his little puffs of breath fogging up the cold surface.

“Wei Ying!” he barks. “Not so close!”

“Yes Yin-gege,” he says dutifully, without moving an inch. Jiang Cheng slumps forward to brace his elbow on his knee so he can hide his eyes in his palm. 

“That means step away from the swords, Wei Ying.”

“Yes Yin-gege,” he says again, but this time he at least shuffles two steps back. And then he leans even further forward to keep squinting at the steel at precisely the same distance.

“He seems truly monstrous,” Grandmistress Yu says with an indulgent chuckle.

“You haven’t seen what he’s capable of later,” Jiang Cheng mutters, his tone dark. “The things he did...what I’ve seen..”

“Mm, I believe you, very ominous. What would you like me to do about it?” Grandmistress Yu is just as pragmatic as Jiang Cheng remembers her, and just as emotional alongside it. She had taken one look at Wei Wuxian hidden in his cloak and ushered him out to ply him with sweets and tea and an affectionate ruffle to his hair. Not for the first time in his life he wonders how his life could have been different if he’d been brought to Meishan Yu to be raised rather than staying in Lotus Pier.

“I don’t know,” he admits with a growl of frustration, though he’s quick to check himself when Grandmistress Yu raises an admonishing eyebrow. “Sorry, Popo. I really don’t know. I just..I figured if I’m here, now, maybe it means everyone can maybe..try again. Growing up with me and jiejie in Lotus Pier wasn’t...it led to such terrible things, in the end. Maybe things can be different if he’s raised somewhere else. Maybe people won’t have to die.”

“A-Li won’t have to die, you mean.”

“There are plenty of others! He killed so many cultivators! And Wen Ruohan, he -”

“Oh yes, you leave that snake to me. But we’re discussing this parentless, future-evil child you’ve brought into my home. What are you looking for, A-Cheng? Someone to adopt him for you? A wife to raise him with yourself?”

“No!” Grandmistress Yu raises her eyebrow again at that outburst and he ducks his head, but this one he won’t apologize for. “No, Popo. I don’t want a wife or..anybody. But thank you. I don’t think I could even raise him, anyway. I don’t even know if I can stay here or if I have to try to go back or..I don’t know.”

“Hmph. I always thought you Great Sect Leaders always have an answer for everything,” she needles, a glint in her eye.

“Who would have an answer for this?!”

“Well. Probably Wei Wuxian,” she chuckles and, as if summoned, Wei Ying suddenly pops up next to her, his little face peering over the edge of the table between them.

“Hey, that’s me! Popo, can I have more sweets?”

“Of course xiao-Ying,” she tuts, pulling the plate of little honey cakes close enough for Wei Ying to reach over and snag one.

“Don’t touch anything with sticky hands!” Jiang Cheng turns in his seat to call as Wei Ying promptly runs off again to resume studying the weapons lining the walls as he munches on his cake.

“Okay Yin-gege!!”

“He’s a cute little thing, isn’t he?” Grandmaster Yu chuckles, though she finally relents when Jiang Cheng gives her a look that can only be described as ‘morose’. “A-Cheng, you worry too much!” she chides. “You can stay here for now, with xiao-Ying of course, while you get things figured out. You’re safe here, you know that. And if everything you’ve told me really happens so far from now I’d say you’ve got plenty of time to figure out what’s going on.”

“Popo..”

“Aiyah, A-Cheng, I know. I’m sure it’s very disorienting to be here from the future, but we’ll figure it out! And anyway, you’ve already changed things just by stopping your father from finding the boy. No matter what happens next, you’ve changed the future. Best to just take things one day at a time, there’s only moving forward.”

“What a nightmare,” he mutters into his hands as he scrubs them at his face. “I need to go back to where I came from, I believe. Whether things are different there or not, I don’t think it’s a great idea for me to exist here at the same time that I’m a child in Lotus Pier.”

“Mm I suspect you’re right about that. You said Zidian recognized your mother and you simultaneously?”

“Yes.”

“Interesting, I’ll want to look more closely at that one day. Until then - we’ve got all sorts of unorthodox cultivation manuals in our library. Perhaps something we find there can help you.”

Jiang Cheng drops his hands at that to stare at Grandmistress Yu, who scoffs at him as she picks up a honey cake for herself.

“Don’t look at me like that, A-Cheng. We’re known for crafting unusual first class spiritual tools and utilizing thoroughly unique combat methods. Do you really think we limit ourselves to the hidebound orthodoxies the other Sects do? Open your mind a bit, child, you’ll be much more content in life for it. Xiao-Ying, come talk to your Popo.”

Jiang Cheng watches in stunned silence as Grandmistress Yu pulls Wei Wuxian up onto her lap to talk to him, indulging him and his chatter easily as he talks, clearly thrilled to have an attentive audience.

Research. He can do research. He can research the hell out of unorthodox cultivation manuals, and one way or another he’s going to go home.

----

“Yin-gege, look what Popo gave me!!”

“Not now, A-Xian, I’m busy.”

“Yin-gegeeeeee,” Wei Wuxian whines, flinging himself into his lap and laying across him with one arm flung over his eyes. Jiang Cheng turns a page in his book and tries very very hard not to think about this exact scene playing out almost identically in Cloud Recesses in less than a decade from now. He really doesn’t want to compare himself to Lan Wangji but the resemblance is mildly uncanny in this particular moment. “It’s really really cool! It’s just like your bracelet!”

Well. That’s one way to get his attention.

Jiang Cheng snaps the book shut and looks down at the boy in his lap. Over the last few months in Meishan Wei Wuxian has gained all the appropriate baby fat for his age and is now, obnoxiously, cuter than ever. A fact which he absolutely uses to his advantage, no one will ever convince Jiang Cheng otherwise. Right now Wei Wuxian is grinning up at him so widely his eyes are nearly shut and sticking his right hand up towards Jiang Cheng’s face to show him a jet black bracelet, currently far too loose on him but it’s clear he’ll grow into the fit of it nicely.

“Popo made that for you?”

“Uh-huh. She won’t tell me what it does yet,though, she said I have to learn how to talk to it and ask it myself. But isn’t it so cool?! Maybe it’ll make lightning like yours and we could be like twins!”

Jiang Cheng pauses at that and can’t help but cast a slightly guilty glance at his book set aside on the table. Raising Wei Wuxian, even temporarily, has become full of these little moments - moments where Wei Wuxian is certain their future together is as set in stone as the present, while Jiang Cheng is desperately researching how to leave.

He refuses to let the reversed circumstances make him at all sympathetic to the Wei Wuxian of their adulthood after the Sunshot Campaign, though he can at least acknowledge the dark humor of whatever or whoever is in charge of deciding such twists of fate. The brother who was left behind is now the one attempting to escape. Funny, in a sick way. If he ever meets the author of his fate he’s going to punch them.

“Yin-gege, are you ever going to help train me to fight like the others do?”

He’s going to punch them hard.

“No, A-Xian.”

“Why?”

“I don’t fight like the Meishan do and you shouldn’t learn different styles when they’re trying to teach you theirs.” It’s not strictly a lie but it still sits sour on his tongue.

“Oh okay! Yin-gege?”

“What, A-Xian?”

“Popo said there might be one day when you’re not going to be here anymore.”

Jiang Cheng goes still and he looks down at Wei Wuxian still laying in his lap, his cheerful face unusually solemn all the sudden.

“Did she?” he whispers. It’s surprisingly gutting to hear it from Wei Wuxian’s mouth. 

“Mhm. When do we have to leave?”

Oh - that’s worse. That’s so much worse.

“A-Xian..I...we’re not...I can’t take you with me.”

Wei Wuxian blinks up at him and Jiang Cheng watches in horror as it clicks. As understanding floods his little face and his eyes fill quickly with tears.

“Oh,” he manages to choke out and Jiang Cheng tugs him upright quickly to crush him to his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, tears springing to his eyes without his permission. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He repeats it over and over into Wei Wuxian’s thin, trembling shoulder, but it feels so painfully inadequate. How can he even begin to apologize for this? For everything? For horrors that haven’t even happened to him yet, and for the sorrows that have?

“If you’re sorry then don’t go!” Wei Wuxian demands, petulant and sure that the solution is just that easy, in the simple way that children so often try to solve their problems. Jiang Cheng manages a watery, strangled sort of laugh and holds on a little tighter.

“It’s not that simple, A-Xian. I wish it could be. I do.” 

Wei Wuxian clings to him hard enough that his nails leave little scratches in the back of his neck and Jiang Cheng still feels like it’s not enough to make up for all the years without him, all the years of pain and misunderstandings, or what he still has to do no matter how much it’s going to upset them both. 

Grandmistress Yu finds them like that just before dinner. Their tears have mostly dried but Jiang Cheng can’t stand to let go of his brother, and Wei Wuxian doesn’t seem inclined to let go either.

“A-Cheng,” she says quietly as she lights some of the candles around the room to chase away the evening shadows. “I found something.”

----

“I’ll make sure he meets you and A-Li,” Grandmistress Yu promises him a week later. The array they’ve agreed is their best bet to get him home is glowing the same sickening shade of blood-red as the one that had brought him here. “And I’ll tell him what I feel is important for him to know about all of this. I’ll help him, A-Cheng. Trust your Popo.”

Jiang Cheng nods and tries to pretend that he’s not clenching his teeth against the pressure of the lump in his throat. Grandmistress Yu reaches up to caress his cheek and brush his tears away, an unconscious echo of Jiang Fengmian’s final goodbye to him. Needless to say that doesn’t help him stop crying.

“No tears, A-Cheng, come along. He’ll find you when you get home, I’ll make sure of it. He’ll know to find you.”

Jiang Cheng nods again and turns resolutely away from Wei Wuxian’s tiny form, sleeping soundly in Grandmistress Yu’s bed on the other side of the room. It’ll take a couple of days for the drugs they gave him to wear off enough for him to wake. By then Jiang Cheng will be long gone, and Wei Wuxian will have to move on, grow up without him. Without their family. Fresh tears drip down his cheeks as he steps forward into the array. No sooner does he center himself in it just so than it flares blindingly bright around him, obscuring everything but the shadow of his hands through his eyelids as he raises them in front of his face to shield his eyes from the glare.

When the light fades, he keeps his eyes closed. He’s sobbing anyway, so there’s really no point in opening his eyes yet. Jiang Cheng drops to his knees and wraps his arms around his chest and he wishes he could hold his brother. Over the months of raising him as A-Xian, of being his Yin-gege, he’s had to let go of his anger entirely to avoid taking it out on him, so young and defenseless and still so wonderfully, beautifully innocent.

Now, all that fills him in the vacuum left by his anger is the gaping wound of a sibling he’ll never have again. He had told Grandmistress Yu everything he could about their lives and what he knew of the political intrigues that had been their ruin. He had needed to make sure she knew so she could prepare for the events that would unfold between then and now, but he’d also needed someone still alive to understand just how much he loved - loves - his brother. No one is alive now to remember just how inseparable they were, how they would both be willing to either kill or die for each other with no questions asked.

He had needed to remind himself of it, most of all.

But all of it, now, is gone. He knows he’s not in Meishan anymore. The world is quiet around him, too quiet for the middle of a sect. He’s in the woods again, the sound of trees rustling and the call of a night bird underpinning the ragged sobs tearing from his chest.

“A-Xian!” he manages, trying to give a voice to his pain, a name, to speak it into the air so maybe it won’t weigh quite so heavily on his heart. “Wei Wuxian!!!”

“Jiang Cheng?!”

Jiang Cheng’s head snaps up and he forces his eyes open as there’s the sudden sound of hurried steps crashing through the underbrush. 

“Jiang Cheng!”

He can only stare in shock as Wei Wuxian himself - a grown man - comes skidding to a stop on his knees in front of him, frantically patting him down looking for injury, for a good reason for him to be on the ground in the middle of the woods crying like he’s lost Lotus Pier and his parents all over again. 

���You’re here.”

Wei Wuxian laughs nervously, still patting him down. “Yeah? Where else would I be, huh? What’s wrong, are you hurt? I can’t find anything.”

Jiang Cheng grabs both of Wei Wuxian’s wrists and the gesture forces the man to meet his eyes, his own wide and startled. 

“Wait - what in the world are you wearing, A-Cheng?” Wei Wuxian laughs as he pats him down again, this time just tugging on his robes - the same ones he had been given soon after he had decided his Jiang robes were too conspicuous to keep wearing in Meishan. “Is this Yu Sect? Where did you -” Jiang Cheng watches as Wei Wuxian’s eyes somehow manage to go even wider.

“Yin-gege?” he breathes, as if afraid of the answer, and Jiang Cheng isn’t sure if the sound that escapes him is another sob or a laugh.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks. “I didn’t want to leave you like that I swear I didn’t, A-Xian, please, believe me-”

“Oh A-Cheng come here,” Wei Wuxian chuckles, pulling him in for a hug and holding him tight. “Shh, it’s okay. Popo told me everything, she wrote every bit of it down for me, it’s okay. That was so long ago for me, you don’t have to be sorry. Come here, I’m here. I thought this might happen soon, we’re the right age for it hm? It’s alright, don’t cry.”

“Everyone else - Lotus Pier. Jiejie -”

“All alive, everything’s fine, Jiang Cheng. Shh. Just calm down first and then I’ll catch you up on everything, alright?”

Jiang Cheng nods and gulps in deep breaths as he clutches Wei Wuxian’s robes, buries his face in his brother’s hair. 

“I’ve missed you, Wei Ying,” he whispers, his voice breaking. Wei Wuxian shushes him again and rubs a hand slowly up and down his back.

“I missed you, too, Yin-gege, A-Cheng, my didi. But I’m right here. You’re alright.”

There’s a long pause and then, as if lifting the weight of the world off both of their shoulders with the depth of his sigh, Wei Wuxian adds, “We’re alright.”

[theredraccoon]

A Desperate Proposal - Ch 5

The morning of his wedding day, Jace rolled over in a familiar bed and stared up at an unfamiliar ceiling. One of the more exhaustive battles back and forth between Alec and Lydia and the Downworlders had been over living arrangements, with the final outcome being that Jace and Izzy would continue to live at the Institute with their spouses and Alec and Maryse would live with Magnus and Luke in their respective houses. 

It had been a major concession to the Seelie Queen to have one of her subjects live inside of the Institute’s walls and Lydia had almost blown a gasket about the potential secrets that he might pick up and pass back to the Queen. Finally, Alec had called in Magnus to see if he could work some magic and make sure Meliorn couldn’t access anything he shouldn’t. Alec and Lydia’s relationship had been pretty volatile at that point but when Alec had mentioned Magnus coming in, Lydia had gotten very excited about meeting him and gushed about the warlock’s accomplishments. Alec had melted like butter in a hot sun. Jace smiled to remember it. Soon after, Alec and Lydia decided it was easier to join bureaucratic forces and the wedding negotiations ever since had gone much smoother. They were actually quite scary together but Jace would never tell them that. 

The room Jace had occupied for his entire adult life was different now, redesigned and transformed by his brother’s fiancé, with two bedrooms, a living room and small kitchenette. And only one bathroom. Jace had been completely nonplussed when Magnus had waltzed out and declared the rooms done and he’d realized that he would be sharing a bathroom with his future husband, who was, actually, a complete stranger. 

When Jace had started to say something, Magnus had patted him on the shoulder and declared that that was the design that ‘the Institute’ wanted and he couldn’t change it. The warlock had then leaned forward and said, “Trust me, Jace. I know your groom-to-be and Simon Lewis is actually a secret beefcake. He is adorable. This shared bathroom situation is a blessing in disguise, don’t waste it.” 

Simon. Simon Lewis. Jace brushed his teeth in his stupid soon-to-be shared bathroom and thought about that name and the person it was attached to. Alec had quietly told him that the vampire had declined to meet him before the wedding and Jace still didn’t really know what to think about that decision. Did it mean that Simon wasn’t happy about the wedding? Was he avoiding Jace for a reason? Was he scared that Jace would back out after meeting him? Or vice versa? Jace scowled into the mirror. 

His ablutions finally done, he walked back into his room and pulled out his normal leathers. The weddings weren’t until that evening, when the vampires and werewolves could attend and be comfortable, and so he had a lot of time to kill. Alec had taken their whole family off the schedule and announced that they would all be training for the first half of the day and then they would be allowed to rest and get ready. 

After months of not sparring together, Jace and Alec had spent a significant amount of time in the cavernous training hall in the last week. The wedding negotiations had been long, intense and full of emotion and both of them had needed to get rid of the pent-up energy. They were fairly evenly matched, as most parabatai usually were, but Jace was Battle Master for a reason and Alec had been spending most of his time behind a desk. Jace spent the first three days beating the absolute crap out of his brother, chasing him all around the huge room, to the point where the other Shadowhunters fled when they saw the two of them coming in so they wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire.

It had finally peaked the day that they discussed how binding the marriages would be and how any outside sexual contact would be taken for disloyalty and would void the contracts, as dictated by both vampire and werewolf custom. The realization that Jace would be functionally celibate for the rest of his life unless he and Simon came to some sort of arrangement had driven him from the room. Alec had come after him and the fight that followed had been vicious. Jace had lost himself in it, consumed with the reality of what was happening and the emotions pressing to get out, and then his sticks were suddenly at Alec’s throat and his brother was pressed up against the stone wall of the Institute.    

Jace paused with his hand on the door of the mini-fridge in his new kitchenette as he remembered the conversation that followed.

“Alec, I know you’re a self-sacrificing asshole but you can’t keep letting me beat you up like this.” 

“I am trapping you in a loveless marriage with a male vampire you’ve never met and you can’t even sleep around. You can beat me up every day for the next fifty years if it makes you feel better. Maybe I didn’t try hard enough to find another solution. Maybe this isn’t actually as bad as I think and it’s really just a string of awful luck and things will be fine.”

“This is the only way and you know it. I’ve been studying more of the reports from the last year and asking some of the other Institutes for theirs. We are being hunted and we need the Downworld’s numbers and they won’t just offer them up out of the goodness of their hearts. I’ll marry Simon Lewis and we’ll make it work somehow. Although I might come and beat you up anyway, you are way out of shape.”

“Fuck off. Come on, we need to go back before Lydia finds a new way to piss off the Downworld by accident.”

Jace shook off the memory and tossed the empty protein shake bottle in the recycling. He glanced at the time— still a half hour before he was supposed to meet his family— - and was just contemplating making something else to eat when there was a firm knock on his door. 

Maryse stood on the other side, also dressed in training gear, her hair in a simple ponytail and her makeup barely there. He blinked. “Mom. I thought we were meeting at the Hall. What are you doing here?”

She brushed by him on the way into the room, looking around with interest at the living area. It was still fairly empty, as he wasn’t sure what Simon would be bringing with him, but there were a few chairs, his couch, and the display case in the corner with some of his father’s weapons in it. Jace closed the door behind him and waited. Maryse usually didn’t just stop by to say hi, even if she had mellowed a bit in the last few years. 

“Yes, we’re meeting Alec and Isabelle soon but I wanted a chance to talk with you alone.” Jace watched her survey the room once more before walking over to the couch. She sat down at one end, angling herself towards the other side. Jace took the hint and settled on the far end, sinking down into the soft leather. There was silence for a minute.

“You know that Robert and I had an arranged marriage, right?” The words were abrupt. Jace nodded. “I grew up knowing that my husband would be picked for me and it mostly didn’t bother me. What did concern me was being a good Shadowhunter, someone who could hold their own against the politics of the Clave. I would carry the name of someone else when I married but we would be powerful together, not just him and his name. And I did and we were. We made… some mistakes but we learned and we were good together. We had three— four— beautiful children.” His mom’s eyes, which had been flitting around the room as she spoke, now centered on his. “But I never really loved him. When he was killed, I mourned but I was not destroyed by it.” 

Jace shifted on the couch, remembering the news of Robert’s death three years before, in a freak demon battle, and thinking about what they knew now. What if it hadn’t been quite an accident? The half thought was still forming when Maryse spoke again and the idea disappeared as fast as it had come.

“And now I’m here again, with another marriage being dictated by others, and three of my children as well, all to powerful, well-connected people that can make the Lightwood name, the name I took and made my own, mean something again. This is such a great opportunity for our family and I won’t waste it and I don’t want you to either.” Maryse’s eyes were lit up and her voice was the passionate one she had when talking about her ambitions for herself and for them. Jace had heard it often growing up. There was a lump in his throat.

Maryse paused and then she reached for Jace’s hands. Her hands were warm around his cold ones and he made himself look into her face. “But Jace, I want you to listen to me. There are many ways to go into a marriage like this. You can aim for a relationship like the one that Robert and I had. It worked for a long time and you and this Simon can go far, as far as you want together. But it doesn’t have to be that way. Luke and I were never able to be in the right time and the right place together and I knew that my path was elsewhere. But now here we are and I want to try. I want to try a different way and see if I can have both, a political match and a love match. I went into marriage with Robert with a set of expectations and never let myself alter them. I don’t want to do that this time. And I don’t want you to either.

“I asked Magnus about Simon, because I am your mother, and he told me that Simon was a good man, that he was a good Second to Raphael, honest and honorable, for a vampire. I know he’s not what you might have wanted for yourself but there’s a chance he could be. Shadowhunters know that their work is dangerous and, by the Angel, we know it can be cut short at any minute. But life can also be long, with many years to get to know someone. If Simon is as good as Magnus swears he is— if you can, try. Promise me?” 

Jace’s head was a jumble of thoughts and emotions. It was honestly just like Maryse to show up on the day of the wedding and drop all of this on him. He wondered idly if she’d spoken to Alec and Izzy about any of this. Or what she’d said to Izzy, marrying a Seelie. He couldn’t think about the implications of her words, the idea that he could fall in love with Simon if he let himself, with a vampire that he was marrying just because they desperately needed Downworlders to save them. He had no expectations for this marriage beyond using it to stop them all from dying.

But she was his mom, the one who insisted that he call her that when he was 11 and the papers were finalized, and she maybe knew what she was talking about. So he just said, “I’ll try,” and saw her smile, the soft one that they rarely saw except when she deigned to bestow it on them. 

And then it was gone, and she was gathering herself up and making her way to the door, saying, “All right, we need to get going. I’m sure Alec and Isabelle are at the training room already and we have a long day and night ahead of us. I’ll see you in a few minutes.” She opened the door and was gone a second later. 

Jace rolled his eyes. Yep, that tracks. Drop emotional bombshells and run away. Probably where Alec gets it. He let himself sit there for another minute, thinking about the promise he had just made, and then got up, gathered his things, and left. As Maryse had said, it was going to be a long day and night ahead.

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

Six hours later, Jace was tugging gently on the sleeves of his black tuxedo, straightening the silver horseshoe cufflinks, when there was another knock on his door. “For fuck’s sake,” he muttered. “It’s not like it’s an important day or anything and I might want some peace and quiet.”

Still, he opened the door and was glad he did. Izzy stood there, and she was beyond beautiful. Her dress was a lovely pale gold, deep enough that it was no longer just ‘yellow’ but soft enough that it wasn’t overwhelming. A full gauzy skirt shimmered as she moved closer but the bodice was form fitting, with a sweetheart neckline and delicate beaded spaghetti straps. There were tiny embroidered leaves all over and it only took Jace a minute to realize that they matched the shape of the leaf on Meliorn’s face. Her hair cascaded down her back in loose curls, except for a crown of braids, interwoven with flowers and more leaves, and her makeup was subtle, just a hint of color on her cheekbones and lips.

All together she was gorgeous but Jace couldn’t help seeing the change from her usual style. Some of it was still there but this was a different Izzy than the one who experimented with heavy makeup on him and Alec when they were teenagers and the leather outfits that had gotten progressively skimpier as she got older. It was yet another reminder of how fast things were changing and the new phase of their lives that they were entering. 

“I’m here to collect you. Magnus wants to go over the wedding entrances one more time to make sure that we don’t fuck them up. And then we get to wait around like useless idiots until things get started.” Izzy’s words shook Jace out of his daze and he cracked a smile. At least her sass hadn’t changed. He hoped Meliorn knew what he was getting into, but probably not. Izzy was a wonderful mystery. 

Jace turned and took one last glance at his suite, knowing that the next time he was there it would be as a married man, with a vampire in tow. He took a deep breath and shut the door behind him, gesturing for Izzy to walk in front. “Let’s go then, so Magnus doesn’t turn us into toads or something. He’s been practically vibrating for the last two days, I don’t want to test him.” 

Izzy smirked, “At least we have a few days off after the wedding to adjust, I’m pretty sure Alec will straighten him out.” Jace snorted. She turned to walk back down the hall and Jace saw that her dress was almost entirely backless, just a thin strip connecting the sides of her dress, and he grinned. There she was. This whole situation might be fucked up but Izzy would still be Izzy and Alec would still be Alec, the same asshole he bound himself to so long ago. They were in it together and it would be okay.

Jace was still clinging to that hope an hour later as he surveyed the massive field of the wedding venue. Alec had prevailed in the fight to not have the wedding at the Institute, arguing about the different customs that had to be followed from each culture, and they were at a farm in upstate New York instead, near the Finger Lakes. Magnus had scouted it out and determined that it had the right amount of space to hold everyone and was remote enough that they would be able to keep it safe. As part of the wedding contract, each contingent had to provide people for security. From the tent Jace was standing in with his family he could see some glares being exchanged between the werewolf and vampire guards but as of yet there wasn’t any bloodshed. Jace tried to remember if alcohol was going to be involved at the short reception after the ceremony.

Looking around, he could admit that there were worse places to get married. Apparently this farm was known for its sunflowers and even though it was too late in the season for them to be in bloom, Magnus had snapped his fingers and waved his hands, and suddenly the field had been awash in yellow and black. The flowers surrounded a large open space with a wooden gazebo in the middle, and chairs facing the structure spread out in a circle like a wagon wheel. Each faction of the Alliance had been allowed to invite up to fifty people, but that still meant that there were going to be two hundred people there, not including security. As a Lightwood, Jace had always known that he’d be getting married in front of a crowd, but this was still a bit much. He sighed.

“Jace, stop moping and get over here.” Alec’s voice was tight with tension but he could hear some excitement running underneath the stress. His brother’s tuxedo matched his, black tails with a gold vest, and the red of his pocket square a bit of fire on his chest. The last week had taken a toll on all of them but Alec’s face was lighter and happier than he’d seen it in a while and Jace remembered that while the circumstances weren't ideal, Alec was actually marrying the love of his life today. He smiled back at his parabatai and went over to where Alec, Izzy, and his mom were standing. 

“I want one last picture of all of us before we have to take our places around the circle.” Maryse was resplendent in another gold gown, this one smooth satin, with three quarter length sleeves, a square neckline, and an empire waist skirt. Her necklace caught the lights strung up everywhere in the tent; the gold disks tracked the phases of the moon, waxing and waning around her neck. She looked happy. 

Jace clustered close, his arm around his brother and sister, familiar and warm, and smiled at the camera that Maryse had bullied one of the security guards into holding. One last picture of them all as Lightwoods. He breathed in his family and let it settle him. Izzy leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. “You look wonderful, big brother, I don’t think I said that earlier. Simon is a lucky man. Vampire. Whatever. You’ll be fine. Let’s go get married.”

He laughed and kissed her back. “Meliorn won’t know what hit him. Let’s do this, Lightwood.” Jace turned to Alec and they clasped hands and hugged. He pounded him on the back once and said, “Go get your Warlock, Alec,” and was gifted with one of his brother’s rare soft smiles.

There was a short chime, three ascending notes, signaling that it was time. As he left the holding tent, Jace saw that the seats around the wagon wheel had filled in. Dusk had tipped over into full night and the only illumination now came from the witchlights hovering in the air, creating a dome of light over the field. It was beautiful and unearthly and the crowd knew it; a sea of different faces, Shadowhunter and Seelie and vampire and werewolf all solemn and staring. 

Jace saw movement from the identical tent exactly opposite from theirs and he watched as four figures emerged at the same time as they were, taking their places around the circle, finding the pathways between the rows of chairs. This was first and foremost an Alliance, a meeting of equal powers, and instead of one party standing at the altar waiting for the other, all eight of them would advance down the aisles as one. 

Taking a deep breath, Jace found his place between his two assigned aisles, deliberately not looking at the people on either side, their vibrant dresses and suits blurring in his peripheral vision. There was another sound that rang out, a clear bell that struck once and then lingered and rippled out through the crowd, leaving silence in its wake. 

Jace glanced to either side, where Alec and Isabelle stood, and then they all stepped forward together, keeping pace and aware of each other in a way that only people that fought next to each other could do. The Downworlders across from them approached as well and the man in the black tuxedo, red vest, and gold pocket square kept getting bigger and bigger in Jace’s vision, white face and dark hair and dark eyes.

Then Jace was under the gazebo and the man was in front of him and everything else faded away. It was a handsome face. Wavy hair and thick brows. A slight dusting of pink high on the cheekbones and deeper red in full lips, like they’d been bitten in nervousness. Or maybe they were naturally that way. Straight long nose and ears that were slightly too big. And eyes, eyes that were deep and dark, boring into Jace’s soul and he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, standing frozen in front of this man, this vampire, who would be his husband in a few short minutes.

“Welcome and well come.” Brother Zachariah’s voice was low but easily carried over the hushed audience. Jace watched Simon startle and was relieved that he wasn’t the only one affected by… whatever that was, and then he focused on the Silent Brother in the center of the gazebo. He was flanked by representatives of the Seelie Court, the New York Clan, the Warlocks of the Northeast, and the New York Pack, each turned towards a different couple around the circle. They were a tight knot in the center, standing shoulder to shoulder. Jace had known their names at one point but they were gone from his head now, and were just faces, formal and dignified. 

Brother Zacharariah took a step out of the cluster, breaking away from the others as he said, “Every marriage is an alliance, a blending of individuals into something new. When we come to our sacred places with the intent to marry, we not only bring ourselves but we also bring our pasts, our cultures, our customs, our people, and we are bound together according to our own laws.” 

There was a short pause and then he continued. “This binding is unprecedented in our history and the merging that we do here is unique. The ceremony that you will witness tonight takes elements of each part of the Shadow World, the best each faction has to offer, and combines them in a new way that fits the importance of the alliances made here, both between the individuals and the people they represent. While they are not the traditional vows that are normally conducted, all parties here have agreed that they are no less binding.” Jace saw the Silent Brother’s eyes flick towards the Seelie standing beside him as he said that last sentence and his tone was iron. 

The audience was motionless and quiet. After another moment, Brother Zachariah spoke again. 

“Let us begin.” His words were slow and ritualistic, with a cadence that had weight and meaning. “We are the Shadowhunters, Nephilim, children of the Angel, defenders of the helpless. We offer protection. Repeat after me: I promise to protect you and keep you, to be both sword and shield against anything that would harm you, until the end of my days.” 

Jace repeated the words easily and strongly, hearing the familiar voices of his family in the background, the burr of the Downworld grooms a low counterpoint. He could barely hear Simon’s voice and Jace clenched his fists.

The Seelie representative then moved forward, an easy glide up to where Brother Zachariah was standing. She was tall and willowy, dressed in soft greens and browns. “We are the Seelie, the Fair Folk, the Fae, the Eternal. We offer the patience of growing things. Repeat after me: I promise to be patient with you, to never rush to judgement but to wait and be calm, to listen first and talk second.”

These words caught in Jace’s mouth, as he thought of his tendency to run headlong into situations, but he said them steadily. Simon’s voice was louder now, Jace could hear it over the others, a musical tenor that sent a slight shiver down Jace’s spine.

The warlock representative was stepping forward next, a woman with deep brown skin that glowed next to the ocean blue of her dress. “We are the warlocks, possessors of magic and immortality. We offer curiosity and knowledge. Repeat after me: I promise to learn from you and about you, to open my mind to new ideas and new experiences.”

Simon now overpowered Jace, eagerness and earnestness evident in his bright voice as he said the words and Jace felt something small inside himself unfurl and relax. For the first time, he let himself smile, just a quick upturn of his lips, and he was rewarded by Simon smiling back, and Jace was blinded by the sight of it. 

Only the vampire and the werewolf representatives were in the center now and Jace tore himself away from Simon’s face to watch as the vampire slid soundlessly up next to the warlock who had just spoken. His voice was a whisper that carried. “We are the Night Children, the vampires, the undead. We leave behind our former lives and create new ones, much like you will. We offer family and new beginnings. Repeat after me: I promise to be your family, to take your people as my people, to treat them as my own.”

The Lightwood voices dominated, ringing out into the night; family bonds that meant everything to them coming through in the vows they now made to others. Simon looked taken aback for a second and then thoughtful. Jace wondered what he was thinking.  

Then the werewolf was moving and what used to be a tight knot was now a loose ring. There was a quick flash of deep distaste and then the brawny man dressed in black leather reached out and took the hand of the vampire and then the hand of Brother Zachariah, and soon the members of each faction were holding hands, a complete circle. Jace inhaled slowly and reached forward, clasping Simon’s hands in his own, watching as all of the other couples did the same. The long fingers he held were cool to the touch, but they warmed quickly. 

“We are the werewolves, shapeshifters, keepers of the Moon. We offer self-control and strength. Repeat after me: I promise to hold fast to these vows, with all the strength I possess. I promise to forge an unbreakable bond between us with an indomitable force of will. I bind myself to you, now and for always.” By the end the werewolf was almost shouting and the hands of those in the circle were white-knuckled. 

Jace found himself gripping Simon’s hands tightly and then there was equal pressure and more from Simon, until Jace could feel the bones in his hands compressing. He looked deep into those dark brown eyes, the ones that kept staring ever further inside of him, and repeated the last vow with as much intensity as he could, hearing and feeling Simon do the same. 

There was a small impact to the air that Jace felt in his sternum and he gasped, hearing Simon do the same. They looked at each other wide eyed.

And with that, Jace Lightwood and Simon Lewis were married.

END OF PART ONE.

[angstyaches]

Ok so I freaking love belly rubs and now that we’ve seen Shayne receive a belly rub I want to see it reversed 😂 Charlie has an upset stomach for some reason and realizes that he just really needs to burp but he can’t and all day long the feeling just gets worse until he’s finally home and can lay down but still nothing will come up and when Shayne shows up and he lets him through the window he immediately knows something is wrong (p 1 of 2)

(P 2 of 2) somehow Charlie convinced him to help him by rubbing his stomach which of course helps and he burps into his fist a couple of times but it’s not releasing the pressure at all, actually it’s making him feel nauseous and before he knows it he suddenly vomits all over him and Shayne ( I know this doesn’t really fit with the plot you’ve got since the ending of the last fic with Shayne but i didn’t know how to make it fit 😂 you can ignore this prompt if ya want lol)

Milo, thank you, thank you, thank you. I had so much fun writing this. Baby’s first prompt.

Sorry if this is obnoxiously long; I have no idea how to judge length yet.

CW: vomiting

In the pub

Charlie had zoned out hours ago, upon realising that the three-year age gap between him and his oldest cousins meant a lot more when he was eighteen and they were fifteen. Whatever pop culture they were chatting about held no interest for him, and whatever gossip his parents, aunts, and uncles were engaging him would likely be just as boring.

He wished he could have gone and talked to Jonathan. He hadn’t seen his half-brother in months, yet he’d barely wanted to speak two words with Charlie all day. He’d brought two friends along, which Aunt Pauline had been annoyed about at the start of the day. She had gotten over it; Charlie, however, had not. The three of them had been skulking outdoors in the smoking area for hours.

Although, if he’d been given first pick, Charlie would have been chatting to been the pretty bartender with the gold lip ring. The guy looked run off his feet, yet had a smile for every one of Charlie’s relatives who had an order to bark at him, be it a chocolate-stained little cousin or his cane-wielding grandmother. He was so cute, but Charlie was too nervous to even look him in the eye. He also felt slightly… guilty, though he could think of no rational reason why he should feel guilty. He wasn’t spoken for by anyone; not even close. And that just made him sink further into his loneliness.

So, with no conversational opportunity, Charlie had occupied himself with the bar food that came out in waves. He didn’t often eat greasy food at home, and he ate exactly like a kid let loose in a store full of chicken goujons and potato wedges. His stomach started to feel kind of sloshy at one point, but that might have been from copious amounts of fizzy orange. More food would surely soak it up and settle everything down.

After the cute waiter dropped off a tray of drinks at the “adult” table, Charlie’s dad stood up and took a glass over to where Charlie was sitting.

“There you are, designated driver,” Trevor said. His cheeks were flushed red from drinking for pretty much the whole day.

“Thanks, Dad,” Charlie said, fidgeting with the keys in his hoodie pocket. “Can we go soon? I’m getting tired.”

“Of course. Last drink and we’ll hit the road,” Trevor winked, giving Charlie’s shoulder a squeeze. “You really are a blessing, son.”

He couldn’t tell if the flutter in his chest was because of the waiter still, or because of what his dad had just said. It might also have been indigestion, though he wouldn’t think of that until a little later.

“Maybe go and say goodbye to Jonathan before we head off, yeah?”

“Alright, Dad.” A blessing, he thought as his father went back to the proper adult table and sat next to his wife. Their half-demon offspring is a blessing to them. Part of him wanted to burst out laughing, the other half wanted to weep. He hovered somewhere in between, smiling despite the tightness in his chest.

He guzzled a few mouthfuls of the fizzy drink, stealing his courage as he stood up and went to talk to Jonathan.

In the car

The drive home itself was exhausting. Charlie’s energy was already spent after a whole day of socialising. His stomach was making some awful sounds, though it felt lazy and sluggish inside him after being fed such little amounts so many times throughout the day. The flavour of the fizzy orange kept repeating on him too, and he vowed never to touch the stuff again. He glanced over to see that his dad had fallen asleep against the passenger door. In the rear-view mirror, he saw that his mum was snoring with her head thrown back.

Charlie swallowed harshly. It felt like some of the fizzy orange was sitting in his throat, blocking his airways a bit. Gripping the steering wheel tightly at ten and two, he tried to let some of the air up from his stomach, but the bubbles stayed exactly where they were, gurgling amongst the sickly combination of food in his belly.

He slid his right hand from two to twelve on the steering wheel, glancing once again to make sure his dad was still asleep; Trevor would definitely yell at him for having one hand off the wheel, but it was a straight, empty road, and Charlie was decidedly below the recommended speed.

Besides, he could probably pull up enough strength to telekinetically steer the car, if he had to. Having acceleratingly strong demonic powers had its unexpected quirks, after all.

Charlie rubbed a hand across his belly, realising that it was filling out his hoodie a lot more than it should have been. He stifled a whimper as he pushed on the swell, hoping to force up at least some of what was making his stomach feel so bad. It gurgled under his hand, the pain shifting slightly but not upwards. There was a slight rumble in his chest, a fizzing in the back of his throat, but nothing more.

He put his left hand back on the wheel and sighed, surviving on the fact that at least he’d be home and lying in bed without the hour.

Back home

“Night, Mum, night, Dad,” Charlie called dully down the hall, though they’d probably both passed out on their bed in the time it had taken him to brush his teeth. He’d hoped the minty flavour would have soothed the burning acidity, but it had just mixed sickly with the fizzy orange reflux. He could finally hunch over a bit and rub his belly with a little more force, now he was alone in his room.

He reached for his bedside lamp, when a tap on the window made him jump. He almost knocked his little brown stuffed bear from the nightstand, and he rushed to straighten him.

“Sorry, Vincent,” he whispered before approaching the window. Another tiny pebble hit the glass and Charlie groaned under his breath. Couldn’t that boy learn how to send a text?

Charlie cradled his belly as he spotted the dark-haired figure in the back yard. Usually, the sight of Shayne gave him a very light, pleasant feeling, but right now he felt the furthest from light he’d ever been. He sighed and directed his gaze towards the back door, focusing on undoing the lock before ducking back into the room.

He leaned against the windowsill, rubbing his belly desperately. It was definitely too much to ask, that all of the burps trapped inside him come up in the time it took Shayne to get inside, take off his ridiculous boots, and creep upstairs. All Charlie succeeded in bringing up were a couple of orangey splashes that burned his tongue.

“Whatever it is, I’m not in the mood,” he whispered as soon as Shayne let himself quietly into the room.

The dark-haired boy frowned as he closed the door. “Hmm?”

Charlie sighed and sat down on his bed. “I don’t care if it’s a voodoo doll or a silver stake or a monkey’s fucking paw. Can we do it another time?”

“Okay, first of all; hi,” Shayne muttered. “Second; how would any of those things be useful in exorcising or communicating with a demon? And third; where were you all?”

“My cousin’s christening,” Charlie said, slipping a hand into his hoodie pocket so he could keep some pressure on his stomach. “It went on kind of late.”

“You’re telling me?” Shayne began to pace evenly back and forth. “This place gives me shivers on a normal day. Ten times worse when it’s all dark and unoccupied.”

“Well, you could try not hanging around on other people’s property,” Charlie grumbled.

“I caught three demons in the back yard,” Shayne said. “Three demons that will never possess your parents, so you’re welcome.”

“So, you’ve got fucking warding jars on you?” Charlie whined. He knew he was feeling awful for a reason, but if those jars were close-by, they certainly wouldn’t be helping.

“’Course not, I left them at the far end of the garden,” Shayne hissed. “Okay, you’re sounding more like me than me tonight. What’s going on?”

Charlie swallowed and looked up at his friend. His belly was groaning, and he hoped he was the only one hearing it. He pulled his hand from his pocket and started holding it a bit more firmly, giving up the secrecy.

“I don’t feel so good,” he whined, sitting forward. “My tummy’s really sore.”

“Oh. Well, why haven’t you taken any of those tablets you always try to force on me?”

“Because I’ll be fine once I can burp, but so far, nothing wants to come up.” Charlie’s face burned at hearing himself give so much detail. He lowered his head as he leaned towards his knees, curling around the knot of pain.

He felt the mattress take Shayne’s weight, and then a hand prying his away from his stomach. He took a sharp breath and looked up.

“Are you going to rub my tummy?”

“You’ll never hear me say it in those words, but… yeah.” Shayne was still frowning, though Charlie recognised a slight blush in his cheeks. “Here, straighten up. Stop sitting like an idiot.”

“That’s mean,” Charlie whined, slowly released his vice-grip on his belly and straightening his back. “Why do I feel like you’re going to be really bad at – mmm.”

Shayne’s hand could almost have covered Charlie’s whole belly if it hadn’t been so bloated and tight. His stomach churned uneasily alongside the movement of Shayne’s fingers, until Charlie felt gas bubbles press up towards his chest. He felt himself groan without deciding he was going to.

Shayne held his breath, pausing the motion of his hand. “What? Am I doing it wrong?”

“No, no, don’t stop,” Charlie groaned. “Can you rub my back, too?”

As soon as Shayne pressed on Charlie’s stomach and ran a hand up his spine, Charlie felt the gas bubbles release, making a deep rumbling sound in his chest. He pressed a fist to his mouth and turned his head away from Shayne. The burp was so loud Charlie worried it would wake his parents, and lasted about four seconds.

“Holy shit,” Shayne whispered. “I think I felt the room shake.”

“Shut up,” Charlie groaned.

“Feel any better?”

“Not really.”

“I’m going to lift your jumper, okay?”

Charlie almost squeaked as Shayne slid his hand under his hoodie, rubbing at the straining skin of his belly. Charlie dug his nails into the duvet to keep himself from wriggling. His skin was starting to feel prickly and warm, but that could have just been because of what was happening. Shayne was here and touching him, and not just through his clothes. He had his hand on Charlie’s bare torso. He was in pain, but he should have been enjoying this at least a little.

A weak smile twitched across his mouth as he nudged his cheek experimentally against Shayne’s shoulder. When the dark-haired boy didn’t flinch in any major way, he let himself lean a little harder, hoping his heart wasn’t pounding as loudly as he thought it was.

“What did you do to it, anyway?” Shayne asked, and it took Charlie a second to realise he was talking about his stomach. His fingers kneaded gently across it

“I, um, just kept eating, I guess.” Charlie turned his head to let out another burp, though this one sounded like it was strangled on its way up from his stomach. “And my dad kept bringing me fizzy drinks. Designated driver, you know? Aw – fuck, Shayne.”

Charlie frowned and winced as his stomach suddenly lurched under the pressure of Shayne’s hand.

“Shit – what is it?”

“I don’t know,” Charlie murmured, his cheeks suddenly tingling. A certain kind of panic began to ring in his ears. “Oh, god, I think I’m going to –”

He retched before fully realising it was happening, before he could do any kind of aiming or get his hands in front of his mouth. His hands did fly out, one landing on Shayne’s back, the other on his own knee. The majority of the thick, orange vomit landed down the front of Shayne’s jacket and t-shirt, the rest of it flicked across Shayne’s jeans and the duvet cover.

“Oh, my god, Shayne,” Charlie gasped. His hand was shaking as he brought it up to cover his mouth. Almost immediately, his head pitched forward again, another long gush of sticky orange liquid and chunks of bar food spraying over the sleeve of his hoodie as he tried to block it, but a lot still landed in Shayne’s lap.

Shayne sighed, though he really hoped Charlie didn’t hear it. He’d definitely take it the wrong way, thinking Shayne was sighing out of frustration when really, it was the only way he could release the intense sympathy he felt as the blonde boy clung to him and vomited. Shayne continued to rub Charlie’s back, though he wasn’t sure if it was helping or making things worse.

Charlie hiccuped into his sleeve, clearly forgetting that he’d just gotten sick all over it.

“Shayne,” he croaked, slowly lifting his gaze. “I’m so sorry.”

“Feeling any better?”

“Actually, yeah, I am.”

Shayne shrugged. “Then it’s fine. Jesus, if only exorcising you was so damn easy.”

[ladyanput]

Seeing Green Ch.6

    Wayne Manor had been much larger than what Marinette had been expecting. As she stepped out of the town car Damian’s father had sent to pick her up, she was struck by how huge the place was, it almost reminded her of a castle. But she didn’t dare say that aloud as she made her way up the front steps.

    “You look like you’re about to dart back down the driveway and never come back.” Marinette glanced back at Eva, who gave her an amused smile. 

When Mari had told her about being invited to meet Damian’s family, the TA had put her foot down in Marinette going alone. If her student was going to anyone’s house, she was going to meet the parents of the man her student was so infatuated with. Besides, if they were going to be doing some weird cult sacrifice, Eva could go and save Marinette before things got freaky. 

    “I’m just really nervous. Damian is great, but what if his family doesn’t like me? What if they think I’m only after Damian for his money? What if they decide I’m not worthy of him and they ban him from ever seeing me again and we can’t give this relationship a real shot? I might end up all alone, just like Lila said!” Marinette felt herself going into a panic attack, her breathing hitching. She felt herself calm down as soon as Eva gripped her shoulders and stared hard into her eyes. “What if I screw up, Eva?”

    “Now you stop that, they’d be lucky to be in your presence, and if they dare insult you, I’ll shove my boot so high up their ass, they’ll need to get it surgically removed.” Eva whispered, and Marinette laughed, feeling herself relax. “Besides, I’ve heard they’re good people, though they could be posing for the public. Let’s hope the articles are right.”

    “I certainly hope they are.” Both women jumped and turned towards the front door, not realizing that it had been opened. A kind - looking elderly man stood there, smiling at them. He bowed, then guided them inside. “I am glad you ladies have arrived safely. My name is Alfred, I have been working for Master Wayne for many years. When I heard Master Damian had a fancy for a young lady, I was excited to see him smiling much more than he used to. He speaks highly of you, Miss Marinette.”

    “D-does he really?” Marinette felt her heart skip a beat at Alfred’s words. The butler took her and Eva’s coats, before taking them to a living room. Marinette instantly felt her blood pressure spike at the sight of so many people in the room, and her palms suddenly felt clammy.

"Master Bruce, your guests have arrived." Alfred's voice broke through the chatter, and instantly all eyes were on Marinette, making her tremble. She could feel them all judging her, analyzing her… Trying to see what kind of person she was. She made herself smile, though she knew it didn't look quite right. She was just so nervous! "Dinner shall be ready in an hour's time."

When Alfred left, it took everything in Marinette not to bolt. What was she thinking, pursuing a Wayne? They probably thought she was only after him for his money! They must think she's a tramp, a shameless girl, a-

"I'm glad you made it, Angel." Damian stepped forward, and took her hands in his. At the gesture, Mari felt herself relax and her smile turned genuine. He leaned down and softly kissed her cheek. It felt so intimate, that it made her heart flutter. "My family hasn't shut up since I told them you'd be joining us tonight. I hope you are prepared to be swarmed."

"I'm sure I can handle it, I've been through tougher situations." Marinette joked as she spotted Dick striding up to them, a woman with vibrant red hair, and green eyes. Green that seemed to take up the entire eye. "Oh, hello Dick. I hope this meeting isn't as dramatic as last time."

"Well those classmates of yours aren't around, so the evening shouldn't be full of defamation about our family." Dick gave her a joking smile, before gesturing to the woman beside him. "Marinette, this is my wife Kory."

"It is most wonderful to meet the girl who has captured Damian's heart. I was truly afraid that he would never find love." Kory instantly wrapped Marinette into a hug, causing her to blush vividly. "Oh, and I love your outfit! Cass, Babs, look at this! She's just adorable!"

"Kory, you're going to break her if you hug her like that." One of the women stepped forward, her dark eyes meeting Marinette's. She was tall, slim, with short black hair that framed a pretty face. She held out a slim hand. "I'm Cassandra. It's nice to meet you, Marinette. Welcome to the crazy Wayne family."

"I'm Barbara, but you can call me Babs." A redhead in a wheelchair pushed herself forward, smiling and shook Marinette's hand after Cass had.

"I- I'm happy to meet you all too. Wow, I've never seen such a big family before." Marinette let out a shaky laugh, feeling a little overwhelmed. The atmosphere had changed. It was warm, inviting, and everyone was smiling now.

"So you're Demon Spawn's 'Angel'. Huh, I guess even demons have weaknesses." A tall man stepped up, pulling Marinette into a bear hug. He was handsome, with a spiky head of black hair with a shock of white at his right temple, and startlingly blue eyes. His grin was playful, before he set down the girl. "But by God, you're so small! Like a pixie."

"Jason, don't scare her." Marinette turned her gaze to the Bruce Wayne as he strode up, taking her hand and smiling warmly. "Welcome to Wayne Manor, Marinette. I am sorry about my children, they can be a handful."

"That's an understatement." Tim spoke up, a dry smile on his face. He nudged Dick when he saw Marinette beaming at everyone, bright like sunshine. It was almost refreshing.

"You're all swarming her, give her some space." Damian snapped out, wrapping an arm around Marinette and made her squeak when he dragged her close. He smiled apologetically to her. "I'm sorry, Angel, I should have prepared you better."

"I like them." Marinette spoke up quickly, taking his hand and giving it a light squeeze. She got onto her tiptoes and kissed his cheek, causing his face to go crimson. "As long as they don't think I'm a gold digger, I'm happy."

"Right, if you're a gold digger, I'm Rena Rouge." All eyes went to Evangeline, who was still standing in the doorway. She gave a wry smile as she winked at Marinette. "Don't worry, sugar cookie, they'd have to be crazy to think you're bad news."

It wasn't hard to hear the faint threat in Eva's voice, the entire Bat family heard it loud and clear. Damian rose a brow, his grip tightening slightly in Marinette's waist.

"Don't worry. I'd never let anyone think that of Marinette, they'd be facing my blade if they did." He commented casually, watching his brothers from the corner of his eye. He noticed that Jason looked almost nervous. 

"I think she's a real treat." Cass chimed it, grabbing Marinette's hand and pulling her free from Damian's possessive grasp. "Finally, some girl that the Demon Spawn can't scare off."

"Give it a few days." Tim piped up, and the family chuckled amongst themselves. Marinette felt her heart warm and her body relaxed. She was dragged over to the group of girls, all of them showering her with questions, so many that she could barely keep track of them all.

"Marinette, do you have any interests?" Bruce's voice cut through the mess of voices, and all eyes were soon trained on the patriarch of the Wayne family. His kind smile made Marinette's nerves get shot again.

"Um.. Well, I design." She stuttered out, tugging gently at the sweater she was wearing. Her cheeks burned as she felt the eyes again, judging her… "I actually made this sweater. And Evangeline's dress, though I think high heels in winter time is ridiculous."

Eva merely shrugged at the grumbled comment and smiled.

"But I hope to start my own brand someday." Marinette continued, everyone seeing that spark of passion in her eyes as she went on to explain her dreams of making clothes that can make any man or woman feel beautiful inside. She just wanted their self confidence to blossom and to see them smile.

It melted Bruce's heart a little, seeing her want to spread so much happiness, a rare trait in Gotham.

As soon as Marinette realized she was rambling, she flinched and went crimson."I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude." She whispered, hugging herself once again.

"Dinner is ready." Alfred appeared in the doorway, cutting off any comments that were going to be made.

Damian carefully took Marinette's hand and guided her towards the dining room, planting a small kiss on her temple.

"They're loving you." At his whispered assurance, she seemed to relax once again. This roller coaster of emotions was starting to make her feel a bit tired. She just… Didn't know if she could fully trust them, or if they trust her.

She realized the whole Lila mess had certainly messed up her sense of trust, didn't it?She took a deep breath, and sat with the family for a meal.And the meal was delicious, the atmosphere was warm and inviting. Everyone spoke of their day, of things that had annoyed them at work, there was playful banter, most of the teasing being thrown towards Damian, who in return made heated threats about slicing his brothers up and hiding the bodies. 

"What about your family?" Bruce spoke up, his kind eyes settling on Marinette once again. "You live in Paris, what is it like there?"

"Oh, I live with my parents. They're bakers, they are the best parents anyone could ask for, always helping me, supporting my dreams. I couldn't ask for better." Marinette admitted, feeling a faint tug at her heart, feeling desperately homesick for them. She really wanted her parents here, to meet Damian, to meet his family. They were always more careful that her and her trusting heart. "I'm currently in my last year at lycée, then I'm applying for internships at any fashion brand that I can."

"Marinette, I have a small question." Dick crossed his arms, tilting his head ever so slightly, as if he were pondering something. "That class of yours… Do they usually act in such a rambunctious way?"

"N- no, not usually.." Well, Marinette knew they hadn't been like that, not until Lila came around. Ever since Lila became the center of everything, the class had gotten more bold in many things, suddenly thinking nothing could touch them, no one could tell them no. Their attitudes at Wayne Enterprises had been abhorrent, to say the least. They hadn't listened to a single thing Dick had had to say, they had only hung only Lila's every word. 

It still hurt.

"That Lila puts a bad taste in my mouth." Damian muttered, poking at his food with his fork. He glanced over at his father, a pained look on his face. "She keeps going around, saying I'm her fiancé. And that class of hers laps it up."

"Not all of them!" Marinette's spine stiffened as the words in defense of her class rose in her mouth, but she swallowed them back down. No, the entirety of them did not deserve her kind words. "Alix and a few others don't believe that. But she's just such a force to be reckoned with, you can't really speak up against her…"

"She ruins lives, nearly makes people lose their jobs." Evangeline spoke up, shadows in her eyes. 

"But her lies are so obvious, from what Dick told us." Kory spoke up, her brows drawing together in confusion. "Why do they believe such obvious lies?"

"Because they're idiots who don't even share a single brain cell." Damian stood up abruptly, taking Marinette's hand. He felt her trembling, saw the glassiness of her eyes. "Thank you for dinner, Alfred, it was delicious. I'm going to go show Marinette around our home now."

The family stared after the couple, plans already beginning to form in their minds.

---

"They must think I'm a freak." Marinette leaned into Damian was they walked along the long halls of Wayne Manor. It was such an old architecture, yet kept in such good condition, she desperately wished she had brought her sketch book.

"They love you. They wouldn't talk to you if they didn't love you." Damian assured her softly, kissing the top of her head.But did they really? 

They could be faking, just to please Damian… They are probably talking behind her back now, saying how pathetic she was..

"Angel, you have that look on your face." Damian kissed her furrowed brow, causing her to blink. "That class of yours really hurt you, didn't they? Did they hurt you so badly, that you think no one likes you?"

When Marinette teared up, he hugged her close, and let her silently weep into his shoulder, slowly stroking her back as he did. All the while, he was plotting on how to destroy that class of hers.

Once her tears were shed, Marinette pulled back, wiping her cheeks, embarrassed."I'm sorry." She whispered, but Damian merely shook his head and softly kissed her cheek.

"I'm always here for you, Angel. Always."

Little did they know, Tim, Cass, and Alfred were listening in on the conversation, a bit confused at where this suave, gentleman had come from and where their uptight Damian went.

"This is gonna give me so much ammo to tease him." Tim snickered, only to help when Cass hit him upside the head.

---

When the car pulled up in front of the hotel, Damian quickly got out of the car, to let the two ladies out. 

"I have to say, Mr. Wayne, your father and siblings reassured me that you won't do anything bad to Marinette, so I suppose you get a pass this once." Evangeline smirked at Damian, giving him a playful wink before she headed inside.

"I hope she doesn't scare you off." Marinette gripped Damian's hand tightly as he helped her out of the car, only to tightly embrace him. "I loved meeting your family, they're really great."

"I'm glad you came, Angel. Maybe I can meet your parents soon, we wouldn't want to keep them in the dark about this? I'd lose brownie points that way." Damian joked, before cupping her face in his hands, leaning close. "Good night, and make sure to lock your window, alright?"

"..." Marinette's brows drew together slightly in confusion, but she nodded. "Good night, Dami. I'll call you in the morning."

He kissed her cheek before heading back to the car, giving her a small wave as he drove off.Marinette collapsed into bed, a dopey smile on her face as she hugged her pillow to her chest, her cheeks rosy from her thoughts of Damian.

"Tikki.." Marinette glanced over at the kwami that floated up beside her, her face going even more red now. "I've only known him for a few days, but… Would it be silly to fall in love with a guy in a few days?"

Tikki seemed to ponder her words before smiling to herself.

"It's very possible, Marinette. I've seen people fall in love in a single day, then later on get married for life, having a happy life together. But, to be safe, I wouldn't rush into anything too serious, just in case." Tikki nuzzled Marinette gently.

"I know, I kinda already came to that conclusion too, but I thought I was in love with Adrien soon after I met him as well." Hot tears welled up in Marinette's eyes as she hugged the pillow tighter. "I don't know what I'm going to do if I make another mistake, Tikki. I don't want to hurt again…"

Taglist:

@realrandomposts @interobanginyourmom @ladybug-182 @ladylb @zalladane @mochinek0 @poshplumcot @urbanpineapplefarmer @vixen-uchiha @angelofmusickaterinapetrova @thewheezingbubbledragon @northernbluetongue @violatiger8 @thequestionablyhuman @ginamarie1512 @maude-zarella @2sunchild2 @saphiraazure2708 @ayuchan07 @virgil-is-a-cutie @thepeacetea

[ka-za-ri]

Demon Brothers and Mid-Autumn Festival

Happy early 中秋節 !This spawned from me crying over pretty mooncake packaging. And then I fell into a hole of matching the boys to boxes and this Mildy AU stuff happened. Uh... so I know this isn’t the only way to celebrate Mid-Autumn Festival, but it’s mostly based on my experiences and nostalgia. So excuse the super self-indulgence and have fun~ I tried to include links to things that might need some more explaining.

It’s my first time writing headcanons so pls be gentle on me .･ﾟﾟ･(／ω＼)･ﾟﾟ･.

Lucifer

“Mid-autumn festival? I may have heard of this before in passing.” 

“What is this? A Jewelry box?” 

Don’t tell him how long you went looking for the perfect packaging and flavor. 

Doesn’t celebrate the whole week, but will at least sit down with you for a night to share mooncakes

Prefers them without the yolk, but he’s not going to complain if they’re there.

Neatly cuts the mooncake into quarters and has to have it with tea 

Likes the wintermelon filled kind the best. The chewy texture goes better with tea. 

He’ll make an exception for black sesame lotus paste though

Unfortunately too busy to do any sort of moon viewing with you since he’s swamped with paperwork. 

At least he’ll share mooncake and tea with you while he does it 

Keeps the box and actually uses it as a lamp from time to time

You find out he’s using the tins to store wax seals and stamps too

He doesn’t have time for it, but appreciates the small bottle of osmanthus wine you leave at his door at the end of the festival. 

Finds you a month later on the next full moon to sit down and drink it with you. Offer him a Laopo Bing or leftover mooncake to go with it as a snack. (Of course there’s leftover mooncake) 

You share tea and cakes while sitting on a pavilion overlooking a lake. The moon’s reflected on the surface. Lotus flowers are blooming and the sounds of cicadas are in the distance. Wispy clouds float past the full moon but don’t really hinder its brightness. 

He brushes a stray strand of hair out of the way before maybe sneaking in a kiss or two. He’s much more entranced by how you look lit by the moon and not the moon itself.

Mammon

Got gifted a box of them from a designer as a gift after a photoshoot

You may or may not ogle at how pretty the packaging is. He teases you and taunts you with it. Of course they would only gift something so majestic to The Great Mammon. 

Doesn’t bother cutting into them, just eats them like a cookie 

Until he gets to the yolk 

“The heck is this? Who puts salted egg yolks into a sweet thing?” 

Looks up how much the mooncake box from a designer might sell for. 

So many gifted mooncakes

But he doesn’t eat any, unless you show interest in them. 

You find chocolate flavored ones among all the boxes 

Still doesn’t cut the mooncake up, but at least there’s enough to share. He’s less traumatized now that he’s had one that doesn’t have yolks in it. 

Spends the rest of the night sampling all of the weird ‘haute couture’ flavors of the year. 

The strangest one is the truffle and ham flavored one. 

He nearly spits that one in your face

Both of you are rushing to the kitchen to find something to wash away that taste. 

Thankfully there’s the bottle of Osmanthus wine you’ve saved for this occasion

He takes a giant gulp and nearly gags at how strong it is. 

Now you have a partially tipsy Mammon on your hands. 

Take him out on a long moonlit walk to get him sober. 

The air is crisp, the moon is bright, the leaves are just starting to turn color. There’s just a hint of dampness in the air but it’s refreshing. He takes your hand as you’re walking to make sure you don’t wander off. 

Ends the night kissing your forehead and thanking you for sharing so many memories with him this year. 

Doesn’t try to keep any of the boxes and tries to sell them all off if he can unless you find one that catches your fancy, then he’ll just give that one to you.

Leviathan

“Oh my gosh, it’s the Super Rare Limited Edition Ruri-Chan as Chang’e mooncake box?!?!?!?!?!?!” 

He doesn’t care what the flavor is. It’s Ruri-chan

Takes more care of the box than he does the actual mooncake. 

Prefers the small custard filled/lava ones 

They’re easier for snacking while he’s prepping for a raid. 

Raids don’t stop for holidays. Gaming must continue

Invites you to join him one night and gifts you the limited equipment from the current Mid-Autumn festival event in game. 

“It’ll look cuter on your character than mine.” Don’t question him on how long it took him to farm that gear. 

You end up playing games with him all night long and forget to watch the moon. 

Instead, the two of you decide to just watch the sun rise while snacking on the last of the cakes. 

Tea is in order, those things got really sweet really fast. 

The two of you are so loopy from staying up all night, you giggle at the dumbest things as you’re trying to sneak into the kitchen to get something to drink. 

“How long did you wait in line for that box?” 

Don’t tell him you just pre-ordered it like a normal person would. “Oh, maybe a few hours.” 

“Well, I guess I owe you a few hours of time as a thank you.” 

You nearly forget that tea’s done and almost wake up the house from the whistling kettle. Worth it for all the kisses you got in between that time though. 

Satan

“Oh yes, of course I’m familiar with the festival. I’ve read all about it.” 

He’s rather fascinated with how ornate the packaging can get for some sweets. “What’s so special about them?” 

Red bean paste with the yolk 

Cuts the mooncake into six 

Lets you eat on the bed as long as you make sure you don’t get crumbs anywhere. 

His room literally has the best view of the moon. It’s mandatory that you watch it from there.

Lets you gaze at the moon from his bed while he reads. 

Until you interrupt him and start reciting  Li Bai’s Quiet Night Thought. Mostly it’s to yourself out of homesickness

Moonlight before my bed/ Perhaps frost on the ground/ Lift my head and see the moon/ Lower my head and I miss my home. 

And then you start reciting “Drinking Alone Under The Moon” 

You really start drinking and living the drunken poet life. 

“You know, you’re not alone though.” 

He finally puts the book aside and joins you to watch the moon and listen to you recite poetry for hours on end. 

Asks you about Chang’e and listens as you drunkenly ramble off her story all the while nibbling on pieces of mooncake. He offers you the occasional piece so you’re not drinking so much on an empty stomach. 

Keeps the box and the tins but has no idea what to put in them so they end up gathering dust in the room until one day he needs something to put spell components in and he remembers it exists. 

Spends the week watching the moon and listening to you recite poetry or tell fairy stories. 

Often falls asleep in your lap, a half eaten piece of mooncake in hand.

Invites you over for moonviewings even after the festival.

Asmodeus

He can't tell if he should be more impressed by the packaging or by the cake designs. 

Snowskin mooncakes become his favorite

Rose and lychee flavors are preferred

He adores how pretty crystal mooncakes are as well

Absolutely no yolks please 

Refuses to watch the moon with you. Staying up late will ruin his skin care routine 

He will day drink the osmanthus wine you’ve save to go with the mooncakes while you watch operas

It sounds weird to him at first, but the makeup and the costumes draw him in. 

Cries at the end of Farewell My Concubine 

You end up spending hours telling him about the Four Beauties and China’s Four Most Handsome Men 

He’s upset that all of the stories end in tragedy

You try to cheer him up by going to a local festival and watch the lanterns and other festivities 

Gets super invested in lantern making and spends hours learning how to make one to hang up in his room.

While he’s gone, go buy him some Tanghulu Not only can he appreciate the bright red hawthorns, but they’re a delicious snack on the go while you let him explore the whole festival.

The two of you spend hours looking at cute packaging for mooncakes and buying them back for the others. He’s happiest with the one you gifted him though. 

Okay, maybe he can stay up late to look at the moon just this once. 

Take a small picnic to a grassy hill somewhere so you can admire the moon in its full glory. Most of the snacks are rice cakes and fruit and of course more moonakes. (Seriously, there’s so much mooncake)

He knows he’s supposed to be watching the moon, but he finds it easier and better to watch you instead. You’re just as ethereal as Chang’e in the silvery light of the night. 

Definitely keeps the mooncake box and uses it to hold parts of his makeup collection. It fits right into his room decor.

Beelzebub

You get him the biggest box with the most variety that you can find so he can try as many flavors as possible. 

He ends up liking the kind that tastes like Gai Zhai Beng (Sorry, I don’t know what this is in English?) with all the nuts the most since they’re the heartiest. 

Actually, he likes all of the more savory ones

If it’s sweet, it should have yolks. Four of them if they have those, if not, he’ll settle with the Cantonese style with two yolks.  

You take him to the festivals so he can try even more flavors

The best part is that you get to try them as well. He offers you at least a bite before downing the rest of the mooncake. 

Do the two of you go around eating everything until you feel like you’re about to burst? Absolutely. 

If you can’t see anything that’s going on during the performances at the festival, he’ll lift you onto his shoulder to get a better view. 

With how much time you spend at the festival and how much you’ve eaten, you don’t know if you can stay up late to watch the moon like you want to. 

He lets you piggyback on the walk home 

The sound of a pipa song from the festival echoes in your brain and you hum the song while half asleep on the way home. He gets it stuck in his head for the next month and a half. 

Worth it though, it means he’s reminded of the great time he had with you and all the food he got to try. 

Now he’s constantly asking you if you can make him mooncakes. 

Literally forgets the box and tins exist until he’s cleaning out his room for hidden snacks months later. 

Almost forgot about the osmanthus wine you gifted him as well. He hits you up on the next full moon to drink it while eating snacks and you get to tell him about all the legends behind the foods he’s eaten. 

“Next time, I’ll make you Crossing the Bridge Noodles.” 

“What’s the story behind that?” 

“I’ll tell you when I make them.” 

“Is that a promise?” 

“Of course.” 

Belphegor

Thinks a fairy must have visited him in his dreams when he rolls over and finds the box of mooncakes next to his pillow

Sleeps all day so he can watch the moon all night with you. 

Expect tons of cuddles while doing that

Find out when he’s halfway through eating the box that he prefers tang yuan over mooncakes

He covets the box you gave him regardless

Maybe you make the tang yuan with a little extra ginger to spite him

Too bad for you, he prefers it that way. 

Convinces you that the gardens is the best place for moon viewing 

He’s right since there’s an osmanthus tree there and it smells absolutely amazing this time of the year. 

His favorite dessert is pretty much impossible to transport, so he’ll have to deal with what you brought. 

Ends up quite liking sachima but not jin dui 

Beel drank the last of your celebratory osmanthus wine, it’s time to break out the baijiu

It takes only a few sip of this to have you both tipsy and slurring superlatives at the moon. 

“She’s just so beautiful. Look at her. So radiant and glowing and just the most magnificent isn’t she?” 

“I can’t tell if you’re describing the moon or if you’re describing yourself.” 

“The moon. Of course. She’s so beautiful that poems are written about her for thousands of years.” 

“I could do that for you too you know…” 

The two of you end up falling asleep in the garden under the tree. By the time you two wake up, you’re both covered in the tiny fragrant blossoms 

Take some back with you to make cakes and maybe some more wine to remind you of the lovely night you had. 

[monstersandmaw]

Wow, here we are at the end of Mermay 2020! Welcome to those of you who've joined either for or during Mermay! It's lovely to have you along.

I've written a total of 35,390 words for you just with these five Mermay stories alone! Thank you for your comments, and I hope you've enjoyed them, and I hope you are looking forward to June. As I've said before, I've taken what Patrons said to me in the feedback form into account, and I'm hoping to bring in some of that from next month!

Next up though is a short part two to ooze boy Tokis' story, as selected by the person who got the thank you story for filling in the feedback form.

Anyway, here's my last Mermay offering for you, and it's a long'un!

Contents: female reader (though that only comes up at the nsfw bit at the end), an older, gruff male selkie with a reputation for being frightening, and some bit-parts including an old harpy, some fluffy satyrs, and an extra fluffy minotaur. Nsfw content (because someone asked for more info on this before we get going): kissing, vaginal fingering, reader receiving oral, hand job, very very minor come-play...) Words: 7938

Chunky preview:

“Weather’s getting worse,” the old harpy croaked as you shouldered your bag and prepared to head home a little earlier that day.

“I’ll be careful,” you smiled.

Grenna ruffled her wings and snorted. “I can feel it in my feathers, child,” she said. “You go straight home. Don’t you stop off at that fairy pool and talk to the frogs all afternoon, you hear me? You get home to your family.”

Your already fond smile stretched wider. She knew you too well.

The mountain air was thin and fresh this high up, and as you practically skipped through the wide stone streets of the trading town, you revelled in the way the sunlight flashed on the dark golden stones of the buildings hunkered down in the natural hollow of the hillside. Centuries ago, it had once been nothing more than a collection of sheepherders’ huts, but as the trade between the nations had flourished, it had grown and grown until it had become the bustling market hub it was today, along the wide, winding road between neighbouring kingdoms.

Although peace had settled like a luxuriating housecat between the two nations, the town guard had eventually formed to protect the interests of the merchants and hauliers, and it had attracted some of the best soldiers from across both kingdoms. Dotted here and there throughout the steep, winding streets, they usually greeted passers by with nods or gruff good mornings, but never Galar.

He was one that the townsfolk feared; whose name mothers would hiss in frustration at their misbehaving children, only to find those children rapidly coming to heel, afraid of the guard with the eyes that shone like blood in certain lights and who had once - it was said - thrown a centaur right off the parapet of the town walls on the eastern side of the town where the valley careened away into a rocky gorge. You’d never actually met him, but everyone knew his name and what he looked like, and what his reputation for violence was.

No one seemed to know what he was though. If the centaur story was anything to go by, it was plain he couldn't be a mere human, though he looked it for the most part. Some suspected he was a lycan, though the small guild of werewolves in the town swore up and down he wasn’t one of them. He couldn’t be a vampire, despite the reddish eyes, because he could often be seen standing sentry at the main gates in full sun, apparently not bothered in the least by the weight and heat of his plate and mail guard’s armour. His ears weren’t pointed - in fact they were gnarled and bashed, like the cauliflower ears of fighters in the gladiatorial rings up north - so he was unlikely to be some kind of Fae.

You’d always entertained the notion that perhaps he was one of the elusive werebears said to populate the forests of the west, but it wasn’t as if you knew much about anything beyond the textiles that Grenna and you sold in the market place and from her little shop around the corner from the barracks. The old harpy had grown fond of you in a grandmotherly way, and had even sponsored you to apprentice for a tailor and dressmaker up in the exclusive Fountain District. With an apprenticeship with Alivia Silverscale under your belt, you could have gone to work for almost any dressmaker in the capital, but you had no grand designs for a career amid the wealthiest nobles in the city. You didn’t even like living in the small town of Drumcarrick so the idea of moving to the heave and bustle of a proper city made you shudder. Sewing costumes for the Merchants’ Guild Summer Ball was probably the highlight of your working year though.

Trotting down the hill and stepping out through the protective bulwark of the town gates, the icy blast of the spring wind caught you full in the face and you almost laughed. Free as a condor, you passed under the wide arch, smiling at one of the guards who watched you go, and headed out along the flagstone road.

It wasn’t long before you reached the lone, thunder-blasted tree that marked an old sheep track leading up through the rocks, and you scrambled up it and paused halfway up to catch your breath. Leaning against a boulder, you turned to look out over the valley that lay beneath you in a dizzying tableau of greens and blues and greys. Your breath caught as you saw storm clouds roiling at the far end of the steep-sided mountain pass. The weather here was not something to be trifled with or ignored, and you guessed you had perhaps an hour before the rain would hit.

For now, the slopes of the rocky mountains were bathed in brilliant sunshine, and as you scampered up the hillside, scattering the odd startled wild sheep with a chuckling apology, you knew there was nowhere else in the world you’d rather be.

The old ‘fairy pond’ that Grenna had warned you not to go to lay nestled in a small crook of rock about halfway up between Drumcarrick and the cloud-crowned mountain peak, and it was only fifteen minutes or so out of your way back to the cave home where you’d been born and where you now lived with a small family of bighorn satyrs. Most people who were not native to the area thought of caves as dark and dank, with dripping, algae-slimed walls and cold, stale air, but yours was nothing like that.

People had lived in homes like yours for generations up here, with stone outer walls built across the gaping maws of ancient caves, caulked with moss and rendered on the inside with clay to keep the drafts out and the warmth in, and on the inside they were decorated with wooden floorboards and thick, sheep wool rugs. A huge hearth had been built into the rock at the centre of the long narrow space, and a chimney drilled out of the rock and capped with a metal cover to keep the animals and the weather out. It was the loveliest place on earth, except perhaps for the fairy pond.

Legend had it that the tiny, deep pool had once been a kelpie’s home, but if it had, none lived there now. It plunged unknowably deep, its waters mirror-dark, though it was perhaps only fifty decent strides around its circumference, ringed around with meadowsweet and sedges, marsh marigold and water crowfoot. However, as you made your way towards it that day, heading up towards the narrow cleft in a boulder that then led to the small pool, a huge figure loomed out of the rocks right in front of you and came to a sudden halt, towering over you.

You shrieked, more out of surprise at finding someone else there than anything else, and toppled backwards, staggering and scrambling, desperate not to lose your footing and go tumbling down the hillside like a stray stone idly kicked. A massive hand shot out and grabbed your arm, yanking you right off your feet but stopping you from falling.

Turning your eyes to the face of your rescuer, you gasped. Scar-flecked as an old battle axe, and twice as strong, the figure still holding you aloft like a dangling puppy had to be Galar. His eyes weren’t the demonic, scarlet red they’d been painted by town folklore and gossip, but were in fact an extremely rich, warm brown, flecked with copper highlights. The moment he realised you were staring at him, his rough hand let go of you and you dropped to land awkwardly on your feet on the steep, narrow path in front of him.

“Sorry,” you laughed once you’d found your balance. “And thank you. You startled the life out of me. I… I thought I was the only one who came here.”

Without a word, he pushed past you, sending you staggering back against a nearby rock, and you watched him stump down the path back towards the town. A silvery animal skin lay draped across his broad shoulders, the same hue as his salt and pepper hair. Galar was clean-shaven, but seemed to have a heavy shadow around his rough-hewn, anvil jaw, and the brows which lowered over his russet-brown eyes were thick and scowling, also sprinkled with a silvery grey. He looked to be in his early forties, if you were measuring him by human standards, and with his rough-hewn features, dark skin, and immense strength, you were surprised to find that Galar didn’t look like the monster he’d been made out to be at all. In fact, he was rather attractive.

In the wake of his departure, you simply stood there, dumb and motionless as the rocks all around you, until finally you shivered and looked up to see the first drops of rain spattering down on the sun-warmed rocks below. The water of the fairy pool behind you churned softly, as though still lamenting the absence of a recent bather, but you decided against taking an icy bath that day.

Skittering back down the path, racing the rain, you ran for home.

Read the whole thing right now, as well as the Mermay 2020 posts (five in total, including extra artwork) and a surprise, nsfw ‘ghost lover’ story, plus everything that’s been posted already on Patreon!

[queerbutstillhere]

Hiya!! Wow u still doing amazing prompts? How about a soulmate AU for Jondami? Where Kyptonians feel a "click" once they meet their soulmate and that even if they date someone else they can feel as much love that the feel for their mate.

(Hi! Sorry it took this long! I hope you get to see this! And I hope it is good!)

When he was young, his dad explained it to him. Told him how they, as Kryptonian's would often have "soulmates". Said he wasn't sure if Jon would experience this, since he was only half kryptonian, but it was best to just be prepared.

He explained how there was this click. Why everything seemed off and disfunctional, how it felt like everything was just shifted to the left a bit. Why Jon felt odd, like the world was buzzing at such a low decible that he could just barely hear it. And he told Jon that this may stop one day, or he would just stop noticing it.

It was this way because of their soulmates. And once he met his soulmate, things would just click. Everything would be normal and right again. He would feel the shift. So he needed to pay attention if that happened, watch who he had been with. Clark explained that he could still fall in love with people other then his soulmate, Clark had done it so many times before he met Lois, but it would never quite be as perfect as it would be with his soulmate.

Jon took this very seriously, and from that day as a young child, to an eleven year old when he felt it, he paid great attention to all his interactions.

And then he met Robin.

And his world shifted back into focus.

His meeting with Robin hadn't been fantastic, they had tried to kill each other, multiple times. But Jon couldn't ignore the fact that the first time he touched Robin, he physically felt this snap inside him. A Click. In fact it startled him so much that Robin got the upperhand and would have seriously hurt Jon, had Bruce not stepped in right at that moment.

Jon had been shaken up for days after, and refused to tell his parents why. So they chose to believe Robin had done something to their precious child. And they were furious. But he needed to tell someone, and when his older (yet younger?) brother popped in for his monthly visit, he managed to drag Kon outside.

"Hey, kiddo, what's wrong? You're looking a little green. Been exposed to any kryptonite recently?"

Jon shook his head. He did feel a little sick. They were sat on the roof of the barn, staring out over the cow pastures.

"Jon?" Conner asked, joking tone dropped, now just concerned. "Are you okay? What's wrong? Do you need to go to a doctor? I can take you to dad if you don't want Clark and Lois to know?"

"No! I'm not... I'm not sick. And why is Lex a better option then Dad?!"

"He does care what I do? Also I thought you liked Lex."

Jon didn't respond, wrapping his arms around his knees.

"Kon, did dad explain the soulmates thing to you?"

"Sure did. Why- oh my God, did you? Who is it?! Did you tell them?!"

"Shh!" Jon hissed, glaring at his brother.

Kon immediately sobered, reaching out to wrap an arm around Jon.

"Who is it, Jon? What's the matter?"

"It's... Robin."

Conner blinked at him a few times in confusion.

"The... The demon spawn? Tim's little brother?"

Jon nodded a couple times, pushing his face into his knees.

"... Wow. Okay. That's. Yikes. Didn't he try to kill you?"

Another nod.

Kon gently rubbed his back. "Well. It's okay, Jon. You don't... You're only eleven, you don't have to do anything about it. Maybe- maybe it's best not to tell anyone else? Clark and Lois might-" Kon cut off with a small sigh.

Jon just groaned and pressed his face harder against his legs.

"It's okay," was Kon's comforting mantra as he hugged his small brother for a moment.

And it was.

In the end, Jon practically forgot about it. He grew up, was Damian's partner, became his best friend, hung out with him all through highschool. He almost forgot about the soulmate thing. Except sometimes he'd notice how much sharper his world was when he was with Damian, or how much happier he was around him.

But he fell in love in highschool, had his heart dramatically broken when his girlfriend cheated on him, even spent a whole evening bemoaning his sad life to Damian as they ate vegan ice cream on the roof of the barn, wrapped in fluffy blankets.

He thought he maybe fell for Damian, his senior year of highschool, but Damian was off, traveling abroad, so it was easy to forget, and then he spent his summer after working and barely saw him. And then Jon was off to college, barely saw any of his friends, let alone his best friend who lived in another country at this point, stopped superheroing, just focused solely on college.

It wasn't until his senior year of college that he realized his world had fallen back into disarray, that things were off again.

It wasn't until senior year that he remembered Damian was his soulmate.

He sent Damian a simple text.

-Hey, next time you're in the states, we should hang out. I know it's been a while, but I'd love to catch up!

Two days later, he got a response.

~Hello! Sorry for not responding sooner. I am currently in Gotham, actually, would you like to meet up this weekend?

Well that was easier than anticipated.

-Yeah! Sure, I can come down there if you want? Does Sunday work?

~Yes. You can come for lunch if you wish. It shall be at noon.

-I'll be there :)

So Sunday Jon showered and flew to Gotham, wearing fairly nice clothes. As nice as it got for a college student with an unpaid internship. Okay so it was pretty nice clothes BECAUSE of his internship. He didn't fly much these days, but it wasn't like he forgot how to. He just headed to Gotham and plopped himself on the front step of the manor, taking a moment to sort himself, straighten out the wildly tangled hair, smooth down his burgandy sweater and fix the cuffs of the button down he had on underneath it. And then he rang the doorbell.

It was only a brief wait, and then the door swung open to reveal one of many black haired blue eyed brothers of Damian's. Jon's memory immediately kicked in and reminded him the buff one with the white streak was Jason.

"Hi, Jason!" He said with a grin.

Jason, who had scruff and bags under his eyes and smelled like cigarettes, grunted.

"Welcome back, kid. It's been a while since you've been around."

Jon smiled and shrugged. "Well, I've been busy with school and all that."

Jason shrugged in return and opened the door, letting Jon in

"Do I still need to take my shoes off?" Jon asked, pointing at the pile by the door.

Jason looked at it, then at Jon. "To save the old man's back, we'll say yes. I don't even know anymore."

Jon raised an eyebrow and took off his dress shoes, following Jason further into the house.

"I think Damian's in the kitchen with Alfie."

"Okay. Thanks Jason!"

"Uh-huh."

Jon headed into the kitchen and did indeed find Damian, sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he helped Alfred cook. He looked up as he heard the door open, and his eyes widened slightly. Jon felt the same thing happen to him. Because man had Damian grown up. Of course Jon had seen his social media and seen this, but it was completely different to see him in real life, just a few feet away. He was wearing a green sweater, and black slacks, black dress socks on his feet. His olive skin was dark, darker then Damian had ever been while living in Gotham. His black hair was short on the sides and back, and still the same long, fluffy top.

"Jonathan, hello!" Alfred said cheerfully, the elderly man smiled at him.

"Hey, Alfred."

Damian seemed to snap out of his daze, glancing down at the food he was stirring then back up to Jon.

"Hello," he said with a smile. He set down his spoon and washed his hands quickly.

"Hi."

Damian stepped closer. "Has it been too long to get a hug?"

Jon chuckled and stepped into him, wrapping his arms around Damian and hugging him tightly. Damian's arms slipped around his waist and returned it, his chin on Jon's shoulder.

And there it was again. The click. The settling of his universe. The reminder that things were okay and good and right.

"It's good to see you," Damian murmured gently, his eyes closed.

Jon hummed gently. "Yeah. It's been a while."

He didn't want to let go. He felt safe hugging Damian. He felt warm and happy.

Damian started to pull back so he let go and watched Damian head back and return to stirring his food.

"So watcha cooking?"

"Sauteing asparagus, lunch is almost ready. Grandfather, could you go get the others and then get them seated in the dining room?"

"Sure, my boy," Alfred said with a smile and then headed out, walking a little slower then Jon last remembered.

Damian watched him leave, eyes full of concern. Jon was too busy reeling in the fact that his ears weren't buzzing anymore and that things didn't feel slightly blurry.

"He's not moving as good as he used too," Damian commented softly, and then shook his head a bit.

"Anyway. How are you? How is college?" Damian asked, smiling.

"College is good. Was good. I'm almost done now. I've got an internship at an architectural firm."

"Oh. Nice. You were going for interior design, right? Or was it architecture?"

"Architecture."

"That makes sense...."

Jon chuckled, looking around the kitchen which was still the same.

"So you finally gave up on the glasses?"

"What? Oh yeah. I don't do a lot of superboy stuff anymore so no one really recognized me as him... I plan to change my uniform and add a mask here soon though."

"That's smart."

"Do you, um? Do you still do vigilante stuff?"

"Oh, in Europe? Some, but you'd be surprised at the lack of supervillains over there. But yes, I do some over there."

Jon nodded. "That makes sense."

"Can you grab that pan for me?" Damian pointed at a casserole dish.

"Sure!"

Jon grabbed it and followed him out to the dining room. The rest of the family was there, getting seated, fussing over Alfred. Jon ended up following Damian back into the kitchen and helped him carry out a few more dishes that all looked expertly cooked and foreign. And then they sat down and ate. Dinner was great, the Wayne family had fun catching up with Jon. And then after, Jon and Damian went for a walk around the Manor, enjoying the nice spring weather.

Jon knew he needed to tell Damian but he didn't know how. They just walked and lightly chatted and caught up. Finally they reached the gardens and Jon reached out grabbed Damian's hand, pulling him to sit on a bench.

"I need to tell you something."

"Okay? What's wrong?" Damian asked, concern filling his face.

Damian showed emotions so much more freely know. Jon had known him for over 10 years now, so this was kinda surprising.

"There's this. . . " He sighed.

Then he stood and started pacing.

"Kryptonian's have this thing. . . They have soulmates," he started explaining, not looking at Damian. "We can feel when we meet our soulmates, it's like this click when we first touch them and-"

"Oh," Damian said. "Interesting. Is there any changes after?"

"After? After the click? Yeah, before, things feel off and for me there's like this buzzing noise. After things just felt more clear and like the world is more focused."

"Interesting."

"Damian. Damian there's a reason I'm telling you this," Jon said, turning to him.

"Why-"

"Because the first time I touched you thirteen years ago, I felt that click."

Damian blinked.

"And when I hugged you again today, I felt the click again."

"Oh," Damian said softly.

"Yeah.... I'm sorry for throwing this on you, but I had to tell you. And we can still fall in love, outside of our soulmate, but things will always feel off."

Damian wasn't responding, just nodding slightly. Jon went silent, crossing his muscular arms and watching him cautiously.

"Well."

Jon sighed. "I'm sorry. Should I go? I should go. I'll let you think about it-"

"Jon, wait!" Damian exclaimed, standing.

Jon had already been flying, so he stopped, blinking.

"Thank you, for telling me. And especially thank you for not telling me earlier, when we were younger. I would not have known how to take it and I undoubtedly would have run away from you."

Jon smiled softly, touching back down to the ground.

"And I'm sorry, for being a horrible friend back then."

"It's okay, Damian. You weren't as bad as you seem to think."

Damian just shook his head slightly. He stepped forwards and hugged Jon again.

"Give me a little time to process this, okay? I'm not going to run away."

"Okay."

Jon smiled to himself as he hugged Damian for a minute, as he felt that warmth and safety.

And then he stepped back. "It was good to see you, Damian."

"You too, Jon."

They waved to each other and then Jon took off up into the air, heading back home.

A few days later he got another text from Damian.

~ I think I'm going to be in the states for a while.

- Yeah? That's cool! I'm sure your family will be happy to hear that.

~ yes. They were.

~ Would you like to get dinner sometime? So we can talk.

- That would be amazing.

~ Thursday?

- Sure, around seven? I can come down there if we push it to 7:30.

~ No, I'll come to you, so seven is fine. Send me your address and I'll pick you up. Dress nicely, business casual.

- Okay, I'll see you then :)

Three weeks later, they were dating.

Send me prompts!

[johannas-motivational-insults]

I for one was seething while Ms assh... Weaver basically confirmed to her designed punching bag that she keeps her around because she's a decent emotional support for Adora, so... wanna go even deeper and stab the reader s'more?

Oh I love stabbing the reader. And I love this scene so I’ll do the whole fuckin’ thing. (Commentary is bolded.)

This scene really is heartbreaking. It was easy for me to write, though, because Catra and (Shadow) Weaver have a very particular dynamic that I vibe with. It's such a pivotal scene for Catra too, because it confirms her fears that her success would be met with pushback and that Weaver really doesn’t love her or care about her at all. It makes her feel dehumanized both in the sense of being treated as subhuman and being treated as a tool. Something to be kept around only so long as it’s useful, discarded the second it’s not. This is the moment when she learns for certain just how little she means to Weaver and it’s painful to read.

*Content Warning for abuse*

The sound of keys in the front door makes Catra frown in confusion as she unloads the last of her books. No one is ever home this early. Even when Weaver doesn’t have any sponsored clubs or other teacher bullshit to deal with, 3:15 is the earliest she ever gets home.

But Catra’s always had sensitive ears, and those are definitely Ms. Weaver’s footsteps crossing the floor. When the woman pokes her head into the kitchen, no doubt to investigate the smell, Catra gives her a jerky nod. “Went to work after all?”

“No, I had some errands to run,” Weaver replies flatly. “Lying around all day like a lazy sack of meat doesn’t come naturally to me.”

Me @ Weaver:

Bitch she’s baking cookies, she’s clearly not lying around all day. Why you gotta be like that?

“Yeah, me neither,” mutters Catra, deflecting the obvious implication.

“I have something for you,” says Weaver, and Catra can’t help but look up in surprise. Weaver tosses her something and she instinctively moves to catch it. Just before it hits her hands, she realizes what it is and her stomach drops. Fingering the rough edges of the rolled up newspaper, she tries to breathe steadily as she forces her eyes up to meet Weaver’s. (Oh gotta love that trauma response.) The woman looks more unimpressed than predatory right now, but Catra knows better than anyone how that can change at the drop of a hat.

“Looks like your little ploy paid off,” she remarks.

Sighing, Catra sets the paper down on the table. “I told you, it wasn’t a ploy. Just a play.”

“I see. And I suppose the fact that this article was written by a close friend of yours is a complete coincidence.”

LOL clearly Weaver knows nothing about Entrapta if she thinks she could be bribed into writing something she doesn’t believe.

“I had nothing to do with that,” Catra denies swiftly. When Weaver’s expression doesn’t change, she insists, “Really, I swear.”

Weaver’s head tips the slightest bit, that familiar predatory tinge seeping into her eyes and voice. “And why should I believe you?”

Catra huffs, arms crossing defensively over her chest. “Why would I do something I know would get me in trouble?”

“I don’t know, Catra, you tell me,” says Weaver, slowly closing the gap between them. “It’s not as though you’ve been doing that your entire life.”

Me @ Weaver:

Like okay, it’s kinda true. But still.

Tensing more with every step Weaver takes, Catra raises her hands innocently, trying and failing not to shift her weight to her back foot. Not to give ground or show her fear. (This is making me super uncomfortable so I’m probably just gonna keep memeing at you all. Yes, I am aware that this is my fault. No, I am not sorry.) “Look, Entrapta has really strong opinions, and they’re always backed up with facts. I couldn’t just plant the idea in her head to write something like this.”

“Facts, you say?” muses Weaver. She reaches past Catra in a very deliberate show of invading her space, and Catra can’t help but suck a quick breath in through her teeth. But Weaver doesn’t touch her. All she does is pick up the paper and turn it over in her hands as though she is deep in thought. Then the motion stops, her eyes snapping up sharply. “So you agree with her.”

Weaver @ Catra:

“That’s not what I said,” protests Catra, her exasperation showing through her tenuous attempts at staying calm. “Stats are facts, not who deserves what awards or whatever. It’s not like I even care about that.”

Weaver shakes her head, her chuckle positively dripping with condescension. “Oh, now I know you’re lying.”

She is. She really is. And the fact that Weaver knows how much Catra cares and wants praise and approval and still denies her that makes me want to slap a bitch.

Also I just realized how closely this scene parallels the one in 1x04 and that actually wasn’t intentional but I’ll take it, clearly I’ve got the spirit of their relationship down.

“No, I-”

The newspaper smacks Catra across the cheek and she yelps in shock and pain, hand flying to her mouth.

It shouldn’t be a shock, not after 14 years of this shit. It still is, every time.

Ugh, ow.

“Enough of your lip,” hisses Weaver. “You know better than to contradict me.”

Hate is not a strong enough word for how I feel about this woman. Unfortunately there are too many people just like her. I’ve noticed the audience particularly hates this incarnation of Shadow Weaver and I think it’s because when she’s stripped of her magic the tactics she’s left with are far too familiar. I feel the same way.

Catra’s tongue swipes along her stinging lip, checking for blood. It comes back clean, but the lack of physical damage does nothing to calm the quiet rage boiling up inside of her. Weaver has never treated her with an ounce of respect, and now she has the gall to hit her with a rolled up newspaper like she’s a fucking animal. Subhuman. (I mean this feeling comes straight out of Demons but with Catra being human in this au it’s... not worse, definitely not, but it hits differently.) Catra’s fists clench and her chest puffs out as she straightens up to her full height (even if it’s nothing on Weaver).

“Do not touch me,” growls Catra, her voice low and dangerous in a way few people have ever heard it. “I’m an adult, that’s officially illegal now.”

Oh, you sweet summer child.

“Oh, you want to talk about the law?” counters Weaver, sounding far too calm in comparison. It just makes Catra angrier. And maybe a little scared. Somehow Weaver always makes her feel out of control, which never ceases to remind her who is in control. (Oof.) “I am under no obligation to let you live here, Catra, let alone at a significant discount. I do that out of the kindness of my heart. (LOL the what now?) Would you rather I throw you out in the streets like the stray you are?”

Yay for another insinuation that Catra is an animal. Nice going, Weaver.

Also, that is one of the meanest fucking lines I’ve ever written for Shadow Weaver and that’s saying something.

Those words hit Catra right in the gut, a blow far more painful than any physical one. They trigger a flood of other words that always seem to find her, stick to her no matter how she tries to slough them off, prove them wrong. Stray, nuisance, brat, worthless, unwanted, unloved...

But she was loved once. She was.

Oh boy, get ready for PAIN. So I wasn’t orginally planning to write this flashback but then I got a Very Bad Idea and I love torturing my readers (and myself) so this happened.

Kneeling in front of the open door, Papi opened his arms for a goodbye hug. When Catra stepped into them, she felt his smile against the side of her head. “Te amo, mija.”

“Yo también te amo, Papi,” said Catra, tiny arms tightening around his neck with a proud grin. He hadn’t taught her that one, she’d pieced it together on her own.

Papi chuckled in surprise and approval, ruffling her wild hair. “You’re a genius, little one. You know that?”

“Yep!” she answered, beaming with the completely earnest confidence only a precocious three year-old can muster.

Baby Catra’s behavior may be slightly inspired by my highly intelligent four year-old niece, who is also biracial with a multilingual father.

A couple playful taps of the horn from the driveway interrupted them, making Papi chuckle once again. Pulling away enough to look Catra in the eye, he winked conspiratorially. “Better not keep Mommy waiting. You know how she is.”

Catra shook her head soberly in agreement. Mommy was notoriously impatient, a speed demon on the road. Catra loved driving with her, laughing like a maniac from the backseat whenever she’d swerve and cuss out the idiots in her way. Those cackles never failed to make Mommy shoot Catra a smile in the rearview mirror, her transitory rage melting away in an instant at the sound. Still, it was never good being on the receiving end of that impatience.

(Catra’s mother is not at all inspired by my sister, however. She drives like a fucking granny.)

Papi quickly pecked Catra on the cheek before standing and waving goodbye, giving an appreciative nod to the babysitter as he pulled the door shut behind him.

He didn’t close it loudly or anything, but no sound is louder in Catra’s nightmares. She never saw either of them again.

“Answer me, Catra,” Ms. Weaver demands sternly.

That was what she had. And this is where she ended up.

Yeah, no wonder this version of Catra just assumes anything good in her life will be taken away. In some ways it might be worse than being Adora starting with nothing, because not only does Adora not remember what she lost in infancy (which wasn’t great to begin with), she has been steadily moving up in the world since. Catra’s had the opposite trajectory.

Suddenly noticing the tears rolling down her cheeks, Catra swipes them away with the back of her hand. Her throat hurts too much to swallow, so she doesn’t even bother trying to settle her voice. Her weakness is already on full display, anyway. Shaking her head, she whispers hoarsely, “No, Ms. Weaver.”

“Good,” Weaver says with finality as Catra sniffles, blinking back more tears. “You still live under my roof, and you will abide by my rules or face the consequences, just like anyone else.”

Oh boy, that’s a little too close for comfort. Again with this version of SW feeling especially despicable to the audience because it’s so familiar.

Just like anyone else. Sure.

Yeah you’re right Catra, go off.

As Weaver starts toward her room, Catra half-heartedly tosses a hand with an empty, resigned sigh. “What rules did I break this time?”

Weaver turns back, her expression dangerous, but Catra can’t muster the enthusiasm for fear anymore. Her eyes are still burning, voice tight with emotion as she confesses, “I’ve tried, Ms. Weaver. I-” Her voice cracks and she shakes her head, pinching her brow in shame. “I never wanted you to hate me.”

brb crying in the club

K but honestly the helplessness here is just heartbreaking. And it’s just like in canon. We saw, Catra did try to be a good soldier and make Shadow Weaver like her, but it was a lost cause. I mean I didn’t pull this dialogue directly from 2x06 but it’s a similar flavor for sure.

When Catra dares to look back up she finds that Weaver’s expression has softened slightly, though she still looks annoyed. “I never said I hate you,” she says, the uncharacteristic gentleness catching Catra off guard. “You’re just more trouble than you’re worth most of the time.”

It shouldn’t be a comfort. But it is, anyway. It is. Catra sniffles again, dipping her head to wipe her eyes on her shoulders.

The fact that this is a comforting answer to Catra is so fucked up and tragic but so befitting of their relationship.

“Though I will admit, you do have a way with Adora,” concedes Weaver, her tone very nearly impressed. “Not everyone can handle someone like that and keep them on task. I’ve had plenty come through my classroom.”

Wow, so we’re just being casually ableist now? Nice.

My thoughts exactly, Catra.

...Ableist and pragmatic.

Catra snorts under her breath, shaking her head as her eyes fall to the floor. How did she never put this together before? “That’s why you’re letting me stay.”

This truly is a gut punch moment. She thought maybe Weaver actually had a bit of affection for her or was invested in her future after all (which tracks for Catra because she is mean to the people she likes) and that’s why she let her stay, but no. As usual, it’s all about Adora. That is not going to bode well for the resentment moving forward.

“She does badly with her routine being disrupted, and she’s come to rely on you,” states Weaver, tipping her head in acknowledgement.

“Plus she’d hate you if you kicked me out,” Catra adds pointedly.

Weaver smiles, all teeth. “It is better for everyone this way, wouldn’t you say?”

Better for you, you mean.

“Sure,” mutters Catra. When that response earns her a look, she corrects herself. “Yes, Ms. Weaver.”

Eyes narrowed into slits, Weaver warns her, “Make no mistake, Catra. Adora would manage if you left us. If your behavioral issues begin to outweigh your usefulness, I reserve the right to evict you.” She cocks an expectant eyebrow. “Am I understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” mumbles Catra.

Poor Catra, I just...

“I care very much about Adora, and I won’t have you dragging her down with you.”

“I remember,” Catra says numbly, picking at her nails and avoiding Weaver’s gaze.

Ooooooooooof. Why do I insist on hurting myself so much with all these canon parallels?

Studying her intently for a moment, Weaver concludes, “Yes, I’m sure you do.” Then she turns and leaves without another word.

Well that was lovely. Anybody else want to reach through the screen and throttle a bitch? ‘Cause I sure do.

This scene doesn’t cause an immediate reaction on Catra’s part but it definitely moves her to a place where she’s very aware of her role and how useless it is to try to change it (at least in this house), and that makes everything a little more volatile. She’s not at a breaking point yet but she’s getting closer, it certainly takes the wind out of her sails a bit. She will recover in the short term because she is Catra and her stubbornness makes her very resilient, but it weighs her down and eventually she is going to snap. Y’all will love that, I’m sure. ;)

[thatdragonaatashi]

Call me stupid, call me sad

Nora X Fem!Reader

@writing-asperations I finally finished it

(Your pov)

"Shit shit shit" I  mutter, running out of my house, keys in hand. I hop in my car and start it up, looking at the time and cursing myself for sleeping in. I was supposed to be picking up my best friend Nora from work. I was in love with her, but I  didn't want to fuck up our relationship. Both of us, along with my sister Abby, and our friends Owen, and Manny have been together since we were in diapers. They were my family, my people. When my parents died in a car crash, they were all I  had left. Luckily, Abby and her father took me in, only being 7 when it happened. I can still remember waking up in the car, on our way home from a sleepover with Abby and Nora.

The world was upside down, the smell of gas and burning rubber assault my senses. There's a stinging pain in my right arm. Looking over, I  notice large pieces of glass lodged in my upper arm. Before I  could even react, something moving catches my eye. It was my mother, her dark skin stained with crimson. From where I  wasn't sure. 

"Ma?! Wh- you- you're hurt, what's going on?" She looks at me, her eyes brimming with tears. "Darling, I need you to listen to me, can you do that?" I nod my head, not trusting my voice. 

"That's my girl. Ok can you reach your seatbelt? Good, good, I want you to unhook yourself and crawl out the window." She says, blood dripping down from her brow. I can hear sirens in the distance. Something in the back of my mind tells me they won't make it in time.

I do as she says, shuffling out the broken window. Once I make it out, I take in the scene before me. The car was completely wrecked, the front looking caved in. There was a fire spreading quickly, lighting up the road. I move over to my mother's side.

"Ma, tell me what to do, how do I get you out?" I sputter out, dropping to my knees as panic takes me in it's embrace. 

"Honey no, you've got to get away from here. The gas tank is leaking. I'm not going anywhere, my leg is broken. I'm so sorry baby, you know we love you right?" She chokes out.  

"But what about dad, he can help you. I can get him out and we can go get help. You're gonna be ok mommy. I'm strong, I can do something." Tears spill out my eyes, I knew it was worthless, there wasn't enough time. 

"No, no your father- he… just, get away from the car, ok? I don't want you getting hurt anymore." The sirens were closer now, lights coming into view. 

My mother reaches towards her neck, grasping something and yanking it free. It was my grandfather's necklace, a simple gold Ankh. She grabbed my wrist and placed it in my hand, closing it and kissing my knuckles. I hear her mutter a prayer to the Gods. 

"Go, now before it's too late. We will always be with you my little warrior. Be strong and live in the light of the Sun. I love you" with that, she closes her eyes. Despite everything telling me not to, I turn away from her and run as fast as I can, tears streaming down my eyes.

The ambulance finally makes it, the men rush out and begin to make their way to the car. Now on the sidewalk, I watch as the flames reach the gas tank and explode the car. 

Shaking my head, I pull out and begin to drive to Nora's job. I was supposed to pick her up from work 15 minutes ago, seeing as I only live 11 minutes away. I was going to take her home and cook for her as usual. She was always hungry after work. Manny and I were the designated chefs for the group, everyone else didn't know the difference between a pot and a pan. I also enjoyed the look on Nora's face when she ate something of mine that she liked. 

Hearing my phone go off, I pick it up and answer, putting it on speaker before turning my attention back to the road. 

"Hello?" I sound out, not knowing who was on the other end

"(Y/N)! Where the hell are you?! It's been over an hour! I've been blowing up your phone but haven't been able to reach you. What the fuck is taking so long?" Nora's voice filters through the car, bringing a smile to my face. 

"Sorry about that doll, I woke up late. I'm on my way, I just got side tracked with… um, some less than pleasant memories. Give me like, 7 minutes and I'll be there ok?" I can hear a sigh escape her, probably catching on to what I was saying.

"Alright, I understand. You know if you need to talk or something you've got me and the guys. You don't have to deal with this alone." She spoke, voice soft and loving. A tear slips down my cheek. Images of a time long passed flash in my mind. The smell of burning flesh is alive as though I was there again.

"Yeah I know… I'm ok though, it just catches me off guard sometimes. I promise I won't be late again." I try to keep the pain out of my voice. This was my problem to deal with, I didn't need to drag any of them down with me. It's been 10 years, I should be over this by now.

"(Y/N), it's not about you being late, I don't care about that, you're hurting. I'm worried about you, Abby told me you haven't been sleeping lately. Going on more and more dangerous jobs, coming home bruised and bloodied. You haven't even been eating properly. I know you, maybe even better than you know yourself. You're going through something serious. You keep pushing us away but I'm not giving up on you." There was a crack in her voice, great, now both of you were crying.

"I- fuck, listen, I can handle this, I'm a warrior, I'm not letting this stop me. I can fight my own demons. I don't need my friends to worry themselves with my issues. Just, leave it alone, please." By now my vision was blurry with tears. 

I stop at a red light, taking my hands off the wheel and wiping at my face. I can hear the sound of sniffling coming from my phone and my heart sinks. This is why I don't talk about these things. It only makes matters worse. 

"Listen, I'm almost there. I'm gonna pick you up, take you home, make you something to eat and maybe we can talk about it, alright? Now you dry up those tears, you're too beautiful to be sobbin on the side of the street." I manage to get out, hoping that will make her feel better. I hated when she cried. It made me feel like I failed to keep her safe.

"Ok… ok yeah, I'll see you in a sec." She breathes out, clearing her throat. "Hey (Y/N)?"

"Yeah?" The light turns green. I take your foot off the breaks and start driving.

"I love you." Three words, and my brain shuts down. I don't hear the horn honking, I don't see the car coming from my left, all I notice is my breath hitching. 

"Just not the same way I love you" I think bitterly, just the car crashes into me, full force. Everything slows down and fades to black. 

(Nora's pov)

"I love you." If only I could tell her the truth.

There's silence on the other end before I hear honking and then a crashing sound. My ears ring with white noise as fear overtakes me. She was only down the street at the light, I could hear people screaming faintly. I pocket my phone and take off in the direction the noise was coming from. 

"No no no, please. God don't do this to me." I find myself begging. To who, I'll never be sure. I round the corner and dread settles in my bones as I'm faced with a horrific scene. There's a car with it's front crushed like a soda can. I spot (Y/N)'s car a little ways away, the driver's side caved in.

I rush over to the car, her head hanging limp to the side, blood running down her face, staining her shirt. There's sirens in the distance, but all I can focus on is getting her out of the car. The window was cracked but not broken. I can't get the door to open up so I take off  my jacket, wrap it around my arm and break the glass. Reaching in I unbuckle her seatbelt and drag her out. 

By the time I get her a safe distance away from the car, a paramedic rushes up to me with a bag and a stretcher. 

"Ma'am, I need you to step back so I can assess her condition. Do you know this woman?" He asks me, dropping down to his knees to check her pulse. 

"I- yes! Yes she's my best friend, please tell me she's going to be alright." I pleaded, feeling useless as I stand there, doing nothing. I know there wasn't anything I could do, but watching her lie there, breathing shallowly, blood pooling under her, I couldn't help but let despair grip my heart. 

"It's ok ma'am it seems to me that she is only unconscious. Perhaps she has a concussion. If you'd like, you may ride with us to the hospital to get her checked out." He offers looking up and waving his hand to his partner, signaling her over.

"Yeah I would appreciate that very much. She's only 17 so I'll go ahead and call her legal guardian. He should know what happened here." I speak shakily, reaching into my pocket for my phone to call Abby's dad.

"Mr. Anderson? Hey it's Nora, I'm afraid I've got some bad news. Well uh, (Y/N) got into a wreck- no no she's ok all things considered, just unconscious. A few ribs may be broken but that's about it. Yeah I'm here with the ambulance, we're going to the east side hospital. Ok… yes sir, I'll see you there, drive safe." With that I hang up and follow the paramedics to the ambulance, getting in after them.

-At the hospital-

(Abby's pov)

"Where the fuck is my sister?!" I slam my hands down on the counter in front of me, already getting tired of this bitch of a receptionist. 

"Ma'am I already told you, I can't give that information away unless you are a relative of the patient. By your… skin alone, I can tell you have no relation to Miss. (L/N). You are more than welcome to wait until her parents come in." The woman says, turning back to her computer. 

"She doesn't have any fucking parents you stupid bitch, check her damn record!" I growl out. I feel a warm hand on my shoulder and turn to see my dad. 

"Abby that's enough, let me handle this. Excuse miss, my name is Jerry Anderson, I am (Y/N)'s legal guardian. As my daughter here was trying to say, (Y/N)'s parents died 10 years ago in a car accident, I adopted her and have been her caregiver ever since. Because of the nature of her visit here, we are quite worried about her condition and would like to see her. Now could you please direct me to my daughter's room?" Dad explained.

"Oh yes, I see what you mean Mr. Anderson, my apologies. She is in room 13, it seems she is in good condition, just a concussion. You can use those doors right there and then take a left." She instructs, pointing to a set of double doors.

We make it to (Y/N)'s room and walk in. She's on the bed with a bandage wrapped around her head and a few band-aids scattered around her arms. Sitting in a chair next to the bed is Nora, her face crestfallen as she holds her hand. When she notices us she stands up, coming over to us. I open my arms up, knowing she needs a shoulder to lean on right now.

She fell into my embrace, seemingly losing strength in her legs. I feel tears start to soak my shirt.

"God I'm so sorry, I- I was on t-the phone with her and, and t-then a crash and her car was so fucked I got her away from it but she wasn't breathing r-right and-" she stutters out, choking on her words. I shush her, rubbing circles in her back, trying to get her to calm down. 

"Nora it's ok, she's ok, it's only a concussion. You and I both know (Y/N) is a fighter. She'll be up and kicking ass in no time." I speak softly in her ear, looking up to see my dad reading the chart at the end of (Y/N)'s chart. His brow furrows at something he reads. 

I push Nora away a bit and wipe the tears from her eyes. "Come on, let go get you cleaned up and put some food in your belly, I know you haven't eaten since before your shift." I tell her, pulling her under my arm and leading her to the cafeteria. She was quiet the whole time, even after we sat down to eat. 

"I told her." She whispered softly, head down. She had barely touched her sandwich but I couldn't blame her. I didn't have much of an appetite either.

"What did you tell her?" I ask even though I had an inkling as to what she was referring to. I needed to keep her talking.

She sniffles, wiping at her eyes. "I told her I love her. Right before the car hit her. I heard the crash, I ran down the street and she was just sitting there, blood all over her, not moving. I thought she was dead. I was so scared." Nora's voice breaks at the end. Not knowing what else to do, I shift over and wrap my arms around her. Both these idiots were so madly in love with each other, I could only guess how much pain she was in. I love (Y/N) like she's my own flesh and blood, but what these two have going on? It's a whole nother level. I know for a fact (Y/N) would burn the world down for Nora. If only she could see that Nora feels the same. 

Out the corner of my eye, I see my dad approach is looking concerned. 

"Hey girls, (Y/N) is up if you want to go see her. I've already talked to her so you three can have some privacy." As soon as he said those words I stood up, grabbing Nora's arm and dragged her to (Y/N)'s room.

-10 minute earlier-

I open my eyes and immediately close them again at the bright lights. I groan and slowly open them again, taking in my soundings. I knew I was in a hospital room by the beeping of the heart monitor. I look to my left and see the only real father I've ever had. He looks up, noticing my movements and grabs my hand.

"Hey sweetie, how are you feeling?" He asks me, concern laced in his voice. 

"Like shit." I bluntly say, knowing he would want the truth before anything.

"I know baby girl, but I need to talk to you about something important before I call the doctor in." His eyes held a sadness I hadn't seen in a long time. I nod my head, having an idea where this was going. 

"While the doctors here were looking you over, they noticed you were suffering from damn near malnutrition. You had bursies and scars from before the crash. I know you tend to be quite independent, preferring to lick your wounds than ask for help. But honey, this isn't like you. Both you and Abby eat more than a pack of wolves. I want you to tell me what's going on. I know you've been upset recently, but I have never seen you like this." At that, everything I've been keeping in came out.

"I'm so fucking sorry, I'm so sorry. I've been playing somebody else and it's helping nobody. I see her in my head every fuckin day and now I'm sick." I broke down, I told him about everything. The nightmares, the flashbacks. About how I just couldn't feel anymore, how I can't eat without seeing my mother's face. We talked for a while until something hit me.

"Dad, if you're here I know Abby's here, but what about Nora? Is she here too?" I ask him hesitantly. He knew about my crush on Nora, the last thing I needed was for him to tease me. It seems I was in the favor of the Gods today because he simply said,

"Yeah she was the one who called me actually. She had been here before we got here. I'm going to go get them, I'm sure they want to see you." With that he left out the door.

A few minutes later Abby and Nora come through the door, moving to both sides of my bed. Abby looks at me, kisses my forehead, and dips out. I knew what she was doing, I definitely owed her one.

"Hey girly, sorry if I gave you a scare earlier. You know me, I'm a bit of an idiot. Heh" I chuckle, feeling nervous under her intense gaze. She didn't say anything for a bit, just looking at me. I was about to say something else when suddenly she leaned down and pressed her lips to mine.

You know that feeling when you're on a rollercoaster and your stomach drops? Yeah, that's how I felt then. All at once, my pain went away like shadows at noon. I reached up and cupped her cheek, kissing her back like I dreamed of for so many years. I don't know where this was coming from but my mother always told me not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Nothing about that saying made any sense but I understood what she meant.

Nora pulls away, bumping her head aginst mine. I winced at the contact and all too soon she was stepping back.

"Oh shit, I'm sorry I forgot, I-" she spoke with panic in her voice, eyes wide. It was at this moment I took in her appearance.

Her hair was up in its usual ponytail, clothes messy and stained with blood. It was clear she was a mess but she had never looked so beautiful to me.

"Aww, thank you darling, that's so sweet of you." She said suddenly, which was strange considering I didn't say anyt- wait.

"I said that out loud didn't I?" I squeeked, feeling my face darken with embarrassment. 

"Yes, you did, but I appreciate the thought." I've never wanted to curl up and die more than now. Actually, that's not true but whatever. There was something that was bothering me and if I didn't say anything now, I'd never find the courage to do so again.

"Did you mean it when you said you love me?" I asked quickly, not wanting to wait any longer. She blinks and pauses, looking caught off guard before laughing to her self.

"You really are an idiot sometimes. Of course I meant it, I literally just kissed you. I've been in love with you since we were 12. Maybe longer." She muttered that last bit. 

"By the Gods, you mean to tell me I could have just SAID something to you and I wouldn't have to hide how I feel?! It makes so much sense now, you're always so touchy with me, you always want me to stay over your place. I thought you just liked my food! Oh I'm such an idiot." I rant, feeling irritated with myself. 

"You're my idiot. When you get out of here, how about we go out to that new arcade you've been talking about? I was actually going to ask you out today, but ya know, that whole thing happened. Are you down?" She asked me. I look at her in disbelief, then quickly shake my head. Of course she would be the one to make the first move.

"Yeah I'd like that a lot. But you know what I'd like even more?" I ask, looking at her with a hint of mischief in my eyes.

"Hmm, what?" Nora says. I could tell she knew what I was going to say by the way she leaned closer to me.

"This." I whisper, reaching up and grab the back of her neck, pulling her closer to me. As I pressed my lips to hers, for the first time in 10 years, I felt like everything was going to be ok

[normieexclusive]

Hymns

I’m not religious, but I feel like if I was In MCs shoes I’d spend the first few nights praying out of fear. 

You had never been one for prayer.

You were sure at some point your family had tried to impart something akin to the fear of God into you, but all these promises or salvation this and heaven and hell that fell flat to your little six-year-old brain. You took to region like one would take to a fantasy, a nice indulgence when you were in need, but ultimately worthless in the grand scheme of things.  

How easily did you crumble when faced with the Prince of Hell himself. 

Ironically, though, said Prince was not the one the bible spoke of. No fallen angel forced out of heaven for their sins- instead a tall man, staring you down with what was both a welcoming and calculating smile. His hand offered to you as you fell to your knees at the impromptu summoning into the depths of hell itself. 

You took his hand- years of politeness branded into your mind- and he helped you to your feet like you weighed nothing. Like the small, fragile human you were compared to him.

Compared to them.

There were things you were not privy to at that time, conversations flowing over your head as you watched the demons around you interact. A deep seeded terror in your gut threatening to rise to the surface with every passing second. How long could you survive in a house full of demons when you were so... you? Surely not long enough. 

Your mind came up with a thousand possibilities. Eaten by one, strung up by another, ripped apart in turns. Would they be able to put you back together again? Repeat the process until you were nothing but a shell of who you had been. If you died there, would anyone back home ever find out, or would you be another lost person? Another broken family that lost a loved one with no resolution. 

(Like them.)

You couldn't do that to the ones you left on the surface. So you steeled yourself, you played the part well enough that your first meeting with the brothers went off with minimal threats and the promise to live another day. You ignored the pounding of your heart against your rib cage. The adrenaline telling you that you needed to run. Instead you followed them to their home. 

You counted your blessings.

Later, in the room that was designated as your own, with shaking legs you dropped to your knees at the edge of your new bed. You clasped your hands together, mind desperately trying to piece together a long forgotten hymn from your days back in Sunday school;

...Our Father, Who art in heaven, Hallowed be Thy Name. Thy Kingdom come. Thy Will be done...

You softened, as you always did.

Demons you could handle, you could stay scared of them and hide away in your room praying for some sort of divine intervention to save you. But they would have none of that. Instead, you were forced to see them, and then you were forced to actually see them.

You fell in love with the way Mammon stubbornly clung to your side, insisting through stuttering words that you were his- his to protect, his to defend, his to lov-!!

You Listened to Levi and his ramblings, you spent hours with Asmo and his beauty supplies. You curled up to Satan with a book, reading in the silence of his room and occasionally sharing a passage you liked.  You showed Lucifer your rising grades and could not stop the swell of pride when he sent a small smile your way- as close as you would get to praise for a long while.

And then you stood between him and the sweet little Angel that was foolish enough to stumble into a place he should not be. Trusting enough to not only come to you but to sixth brother as well and allowed you to see a different side of the Demon you had once thought to only be a cruel monster. Never full and always aching. Never content, but always wanting.

You knew Lucifer could hurt, and you knew you should be scared, but there was something so much more important standing just behind you now. Not just Luke, but Beelzebub as well. A beast of a man that held such a fragile heart that you fretted over. That would oh so easily bear himself to you rather then leave you alone. 

And, even if you died in that moment, you would not have regretted it.

on earth as it is in Heaven.

You found him.

Locked far away from prying eyes. A man that you would eventually learn was the seventh brother of this broken little family. The twin of the sixth. You're decision is made for you. A choic; help him or watch the brothers you had grown to care for fall further and further apart. Cursing your stupid, fragile little heart you gave in. You offered to help.

Even with his fingers around your neck you're mind was still full of the broken little family just down the stairs. You think of how lost this man must have been, how long he had been down there. You think about how you two could have been friends, how- if you had been a little sooner, a little faster- things could have been better.

(And, you may deny it, but for a brief moment there is a flash of anger. How dare he do this to you. How dare he hurt the same person that wanted to help. How dare he blame you for something you had no part of, how dare he, how dare he-) 

and finally, you think 'I don’t want to d-'

Give us this day our daily bread. 

And forgive us our trespasses, 

You took one last, desperate breath, hymns ringing in your head:

as we forgive those who trespass against us. 

Life. Death. What did it matter when it all eventually lead to them?

A love you had never felt before now settled where once only fear had gripped you. A family of seven and then you- their small, fragile, stubborn, amazing human- all together. You spent less nights in your own room, opting to stay in one of theirs, always welcomed. Food was always at the table, and a seat was  opened for you (Weather or not there was one for the others was a different story entirely) You had become something so much bigger then the little human you had started out as, and none of them seemed all too partial on letting you go any time soon. 

Now, much like your heart, Belphie melted into your lap. He slept soundly as you ran your fingers through his hair. His breathing was soft, easier now that he was free. His naps were no longer restless. 

The old hymns of a long forgotten prayer no longer echoed in your mind. 

You had nothing to fear.