#tune in next week for further nonsense i suppose

[demeterdefence]

the sentiment is sweet i’ll grant it that but how does that work within the established canonical fertility powers? genuinely, was this always an option that no one knew about, or are hades and persephone just THAT special?

[twofoursixohjuan]

So I missed Day One of Stefan Week (my time zone) so I've merged the two prompts together! (Also it is ridiculously fucking late and I've no idea what I just wrote.) (And I can't work out how to put in a length cut any more.)

So, without further ado:

Misheard / Heat

The sun was beating down — it had been for days. The lone figure stumbled south, arms burnt red, a scrap of fabric pulled over its head in a futile attempt to stave off the glare. The tracks behind it wavered, but they hadn't started circling, not yet.

Stefan tugged the flimsy headscarf further down over his face. He was somewhere on the Arridan coastline, that much he knew, but just where was far beyond him.

He'd been left in Rakesh for supplies. Once he'd found them he was meant to travel back with a caravan that passed close to where the Heron lay beached, but a bandit attack two days out from the town had put paid to that. He was alone, injured, and he'd lost the last of his water in a tumble yesterday — or was it two days ago?

He could have turned back to Rakesh, he supposed. But the ground to the north was rough, and he'd assumed he could make it south alone. Hubris, maybe. It was too late to turn back.

Would they be missing him by now? He hoped so. He hoped not.

Stefan's foot skidded in a dune and he tumbled downwards, sand gritting in his mouth and eyes. Somewhere, he thought he heard laughter.

He stumbled on.

He'd tried singing, for a while. As the last of his water flask seeped into the sand, he'd tried sagas, shanties, the nonsense tunes his mother had hummed over his cot. He'd tried to put himself in a Hallasholm hall, or round a fire with the crew on some faraway beach.

It hadn't worked. Eventually he'd given up, voice cracking and lips dried stiff.

Someone was singing now, though. Stefan couldn't pick the voice — sometimes it was Ingvar's rumbling bass, sometimes a bright tenor like Jesper's. Even Hal, flat and hopelessly out of tune.

But the sound came from over the next dune.

He hurried, slipping and clambering up the incline, but when he crested the rise the dip was empty. A mirage shimmered away to the west, and even though he knew it was a mirage, was intellectually, categorically certain it was a mirage, it took all his self-control not to go chasing after it.

The singing floated over the next dune.

Stefan chased the sound always hearing it, always sure he was only a little too late. The cloth over his head slipped away, the sun beat down, and he scrambled up and down dunes after Thorn's baritone, Wulf's enthusiastic warble.

Eventually, through the shimmering haze above the sand, he glimpsed a figure. The shape was indistinct but the voice was Stig's, calling out, "Race you to the water!" One blurred arm lifted, pointed across empty desert.

"There is no water," managed Stefan.

"That's half the fun!" Stig's shape lifted, running lightly over the sand. "To the dune, then."

"Which dune?" called Stefan, but Stig faded and was gone.

Without the mismatched song, the desert was terribly, hideously lonely. Stefan staggered onwards, a tiny blot against the sand. Even his shadow had vanished. Part of him knew that this was noon, that he shouldn't be walking the desert in the high sun, but the rest believed that if he pushed on just a little further, a little longer, he would find them again.

Up. Down.

Footsteps crunched in the sand. Someone was walking along beside him. He looked up to see Ingvar, huge form blotting out the sun, blurred by the dry dust in his eyes.

"I can't see you," he said. It seemed important.

Ingvar's face tilted towards him, eyes invisible behind wide brown discs. "Strange how that works, isn't it?"

There was something else he had to say. "The net. I laughed at you. I'm sorry."

"I think we both have bigger problems now." The last words drifted on empty air.

Up. Down.

More footsteps, light and barely audible on the sand. "Lost in the desert. Some hunter you would make," said Lydia, her words cheerful, teasing.

"You came from the marshes," Stefan protested. He reached to catch her shoulder but his hand slipped through thin air. Of course, she wasn't there.

Lydia vanished, leaving only laughter.

Up. Down.

Hal, pattering along, head tipped back to study the flight of invisible birds. "The Arridan sand vulture," he said, one finger indicating a distant, circling speck. "It rides spirals of heat reflected by the sand. I'll do that one day."

"I don't need a lesson," said Stefan. "Come get me. Please."

Hal tipped his head to one side. "How? All you're talking to is yourself. Have been all along."

"I'm not," said Stefan, petulant. He put his fingers against his cracked lips and felt them move as Hal added, "See? I told you so."

Hal's voice, his mouth.

"Huh." Stefan was silent a moment. "Might be good for me."

Hal snorted. "This isn't a therapy session. You're dying, Stef."

"Best time." He swiped a hand through Hal and watched him fade reproachfully away.

Up. Down. Up, and tumbling to lie in a heap at the next dune's base. Overhead, the sun swam in and out of focus.

Don't look at the sun, he remembered vaguely, but it was so big, taking up the whole sky, the whole world. He could lie here. He could lie until he withered to a dried husk, and when he weighed nothing at all the sand vultures could carry him away and play rattling tunes with his bones. Perhaps they would sing.

(Miles away, a slight figure crumpled and fell to the sand.)

A shadow fell over him.

"The vultures won't sing, you know," said a voice, sweet and achingly familiar (and Stig, lifting Jesper's unconscious form, frowned in confusion). "They can't. Get up, Stef."

No. "Too tired," he managed. "They'll sing for me."

"I'll sing for you," said Jesper. His voice rasped, as though he had been calling out, or crying, or both. "Just get up. We're going in the wrong direction; we'll never find you here. You need to move."

Stefan rolled over, burying his face in the sand. "You're not real."

"Fucking rude," said Jesper amiably (and "heat exhaustion," said Edvin, checking his pulse with expert fingers). There was pressure on Stefan's shoulder, rolling him back upright.

"I can see through you," he argued, but he dragged himself to all fours anyway, and then to his feet. He would keep going, if Jesper asked it.

"I'm as real as the vultures," said Jesper, grinning. He set off across the sand, and Stefan, stumbling, followed.

"Prove it." The conversation was a distraction. "Tell me something I wouldn't know."

"Do you remember when we were fourteen?" asked Jesper. "You found me in an alley fight and waded in, and we both got our arses kicked for it. But there was lamplight at your back, and I looked up from the cobbles and you glowed."

Stefan's fingers were at his lips, but there was no movement. "Real," he said, brow furrowed in confusion.

"I told you so," said Jesper. "Now move."

Stefan stumbled through the dunes, Jesper always just a little ahead of him, leading him south and slightly west. They bickered and made up, they composed newer, filthier verses for the Saga, they walked in companionable silence. Stefan fell often, and Jesper dragged him back up with a blunt word or a transparent hand.

"You're not dead, are you?" said Stefan once, watching the shifting sand through Jesper's chest.

"I don't know," Jesper admitted. "I hope not, but I guess it would be worth it."

Eventually Stefan fell and couldn't rise. "It'll do," said Jesper, stepping back. He was fading like Hal had, like Lydia and Ingvar and Stig, and Stefan thought he would have cried if he'd had anything left for tears.

He looked up from the sand, and with the sun behind him, Jesper glowed.

Overhead, a vulture shrieked three times, and then three more.

The Herons! the Herons!

Sand crunched, and two faces appeared over the dune.

(And in the meagre shade of a desert shrub, Jesper sat bolt upright, and Edvin jumped, startled.)

("They've found him," he said.)

[wafflesandkruge]

One Early Morning in Os Alta

Nikolai accidentally drinks one of David's experiments and becomes obsessed with solving the mystery that is Zoya Nazyalensky. The Triumvirate is his most unwilling audience as he attempts to piece together where she goes at night with nothing but his caffeine-fueled brain and a chalkboard.

Written for the @grishaversebigbang mini bang! Thank you so much to the amazing @kolarpem (x) and @denndrawings​ (x) who created beautiful art for this fic 🥺 ❤️  

ao3

In their three short years of marriage, Genya and David had developed a morning routine. David, eager to get to the labs early so he could have the room to himself, would wake at the crack of dawn like clockwork and share a few sleepy kisses with her before getting on his way. After a few more hours of much-needed beauty sleep, Genya would commandeer some breakfast and find him tinkering away at whatever project Nikolai had put him to. It was a comfortable rhythm, a familiar constant in their otherwise hectic lives.

But today, Genya was just drifting off to sleep again after being woken by her husband when the door to their bedroom slammed open to reveal a very disheveled David. His glasses were slightly more askew than usual and his kefta rumpled. Genya let out a small yawn.

“David? What’s wrong?”

“There has been a development.” He didn’t elaborate further as he strode over to their wardrobe and pulled out her kefta. She tugged it over her head without question and followed him sleepily out of the room. They’d been together long enough that she’d learned not to try to get him to elaborate. He’d either clam up for hours trying to find the right words or talk in circles trying to fully explain a very easily explainable situation. Only the Saints knew what it was this time. She just hoped it was something easily resolvable so she could go back to sleep. Perhaps a puppy running loose in the labs, or an Inferni who’d burned off their eyebrows and wanted her to Tailor them back. Simple things.

But instead of the labs, David pulled her into Nikolai’s bedroom and Genya knew it was going to be a long day. Tamar and Tolya were already seated on a sofa, both with their arms crossed and similar scowls on their faces. Zoya was absent. And Nikolai was animatedly scribbling on a large blackboard that had been wheeled to the front of the room, “ZOYA NAZYALENSKY” scrawled at the top in large letters and circled three times for emphasis. The rest of the board was covered in near incomprehensible writing and doodles.

Genya frowned as David pulled her down into the seat next to him. “Did you steal that from the Little Palace, Nikolai? How will the children learn?”

Her king didn’t answer. He seemed busy working on a doodle of what looked like a five legged tiger on a corner of the board. David patted her hand absentmindedly as he opened his notebook and started scribbling as well.

“Is anyone going to explain this to me?” Genya asked mildly as Tolya slid a cup of tea towards her. She supposed the Triumvirate had seen worse, and their king acting like a man possessed didn’t rank particularly high on their list, but she still didn’t appreciate being woken up early for this. If anything, the twins should have just knocked him out and then everyone could get their well deserved rest.

Tamar crossed her arms. Her short hair stuck up in every direction as if she’d just rolled out of bed. “Well, your genius husband over there,” she starts, her tone not quite complimentary, “was working on one of his little experiments again.”

Genya nodded distractedly as she removed a small mirror from the inside of her sleeve. David took it from her obediently and held it up as she began Tailoring away the dark circles under her eyes. It wasn’t a substitute for her lost sleep, but it’d have to do for now.

“Coffee with a mild strain of parem in it for an extra stimulant,” David explained as she moved on to bringing more color into her cheeks. “Since you’re always complaining about the Little Palace’s coffee leaving you groggier than before.”

Genya’s hands stilled as she offered David a small smile. Even after knowing him for this long, his kindness never failed to surprise her. “That’s lovely, dear. But how does that relate to Nikolai acting like...this?”

Both of them jumped when Nikolai let out a rather concerning cackle. He had moved on from the deformed tiger to a caricature of someone who looked alarmingly like General Pensky. Genya scanned the board, barely able to decipher his scribbling. Secret lover...treason...illicit rendezvous? She furrowed her brows.

Tolya glowered at them from his spot next to his sister. “Nikolai drank David’s experiment. And now he refuses to administer the antidote because he wants to observe his behavior for the sake of science.”

“That’s not strictly true,” David said as he handed the mirror back to Genya and picked up his pencil again. “I don’t have an antidote ready. Instead of taking the time and labor to manufacture one, we might as well just wait for it to wear off naturally.”

Tolya opened his mouth again to argue, but then a piece of chalk flew by, barely missing Genya’s nose. Nikolai slammed his hands on the table and her tea splashed out of its cup. 

All four of their heads turned towards their king. His shirt was buttoned incorrectly, his hair wild, and a distinctly unhinged look in his eyes. His jacket was tied around his shoulders like a cape. It had to be the worst Genya has ever seen him, though there had been that time when Kirigin had convinced him to do a few shots of that whiskey from the Wandering Isles and he’d been convinced he was a saint—

“Friends!” His voice was entirely too loud for the intimate setting. “I have gathered you here today to solve one of our most pressing problems.”

“Our empty coffers?” Genya asked with a yawn.

“Impending war on three fronts?” offered Tolya.

“My brother’s incurable love for five hour poetry recitations?” 

David continued silently taking notes in his book.

“No,” Nikolai declared with an empathetic shake of his head, “we’re here to discuss the mystery of...Zoya Nazyalensky.”

He stepped to the side and for the first time, Genya was able to see the entirety of the blackboard he’d been writing on. Not a single inch of it had been spared from his rather enthusiastic scrawl and doodles like he was preparing to give them the world’s most fascinating lecture on the enigma that was Zoya. Genya felt a headache incoming.

“Perhaps we could do this at a more reasonable hour,” she began, but Nikolai smacked his hand against the blackboard which sent up a giant cloud of chalk dust.

“Nonsense! There’s no time like the present, and Zoya is away so it’s the perfect time to speculate upon her true intentions.” He waved his arm towards a bullet point at the top of the board, but in his eagerness, nearly knocked the entire board over. Genya let out another yawn and sank back into the couch. Maybe he wouldn’t notice if she dozed off.

“Where does she go at night?” Nikolai demanded as he began pacing furiously. The papers pinned to the board fluttered in his wake. “About once a week or so, the palace guards tell me she’s seen walking on the grounds late at night, alone. She’s almost certainly meeting with someone. But who? And why?”

“Are you sure you don’t have an antidote?” she whispered to David.

“Positive.” He scratched his ear, a sure sign he was lying. Genya sighed. She supposed she’d have him make it up to her later. She knew better than to talk him out of one of science moods. 

“A lover!” Nikolai continued. “She has a secret lover!”

Genya knew for a fact Zoya had no one in her heart other than their king as much as she liked pretending she hated him and his entire existence. In her own opinion, it probably had something to do with the very expensive gifts Nikolai routinely offered because Zoya was nothing if not a creature of luxury. Still, she took a sip of her tea and raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Do go on.”

“At first I thought it was General Pensky, but he’s been stationed at the border for over a month and the night walks haven’t stopped. So that leaves no other option than…” Nikolai’s eyes narrowed. He executed a sloppy about-face that any army commander would have had him running laps for and pointed an accusing finger at Tolya. “You’re Zoya’s secret lover!”

Tolya frowned and crossed his arms. “I would rather go back to Novyi Zem and become a jurda farmer. Less chance of sudden death.”

Nikolai grabbed at his hair. “But if you’re not seeing Zoya...and Tamar isn’t– you’re not right?”

“I’m married, Nikolai.”

“Right, right, right,” he muttered. He turned back to look at his board. “Then there’s only one other answer.”

“We all go back to bed?” Genya suggested.

Nikolai turned to her, an oddly intense look in his eyes. “How could you suggest we all retire when Zoya is plotting against the throne?”

Genya blinked. “How exactly did you get there?”

“It all makes sense!” Nikolai babbled excitedly. He waved his arms in excitement. “The late night walks. The secrecy. Why she’s always so mean to me—”

“She’s mean to everyone,” Tamar interjected.

“She’s working with the Fjerdans! Or the Shu! Of course, I should have seen it from the start…”

Genya tuned him out again as he went back to drawing on the board while muttering to himself about how the Fjerdan’s diabolical plan to have Zoya seduce him was working too well. She put her head on David’s shoulder and focused on the page of notes he was working on. Except instead of notes, it was a sketch of a woman’s face. Her face. As she watched, his pencil scratched out the curve of her lips, one corner lifted in a half smile. “What are you doing, dear?”

“Studying something beautiful,” he answered without a moment of hesitation. 

Genya’s lips curled into a smile as she let her eyes shut. “You’re sweet today. Maybe we should let Nikolai poison himself more often.”

“There’s a seventy percent chance his heart would give out if we attempted this more than once a week.”

“Regicide,” Genya said with a sigh, “How romantic.”

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 9 - ao3 -

Lan Qiren was groggy with lack of sleep the next morning, but an evening’s contemplation of the Lan sect’s rules had put him back into the right mindset.

As a disciple of the Lan sect, he was entitled under the rules for his elders to remember do not disrespect your juniors just as he was required to respect and obey your elders. Pursuant to the rules, he should have the protection of his sect and their support, and if what he had was imperfect, it was at least something; for every Lan Ganhui that mocked him, there was a Lan Yueheng that encouraged him, and there were plenty of teachers that preferred him over all the others.

As for his brother – Lan Qiren should not hold his anger against him. He had been acting in the best interest of the sect, seeking to obtain benefits for what had been lost; he had thought throughout the trip that Lan Qiren had given up more than just his word of honor, but had refrained from punishing him accordingly. In the end, even his father had assigned him only to kneel, which was a milder punishment by far than he deserved for all his mistakes and insolence.

More than that, his brother was right: Wen Ruohan would be bound by his own word of honor and public reputation to treat Lan Qiren with dignity, and by endorsing the relationship rather than rejecting it, his sect was indicating that they would hold Wen Ruohan to his word. His father had appropriately expressed concern on Lan Qiren’s behalf, his brother had refuted those concerns with well-reasoned logic; it was inappropriate for Lan Qiren to take such an intellectual discussion to heart.

That he had – and that he had forgotten, even temporarily and in the privacy of his own head, the rule do not argue with family for it does not matter who wins – was merely evidence once again that Lan Qiren was inferior to his brother, who through keeping a cool head had enabled their sect to turn what could have been an embarrassment into a victory.

As for his father…Lan Qiren shouldn’t have been surprised, that’s all. Hadn’t years and years taught him that fathers only gave what they chose to give and no more? He had long ago learned that his father was kind and noble and equitable, concerned with all the Lan sect disciples (but for his dearly beloved eldest) in the same way and the same manner; being disappointed to receive that and nothing more was only his own foolishness.

(He only wondered, in passing, why it had been his father’s glacial voice that had scared him so, compared to the familiar warmth of his brother’s anger.)

So fortified and reassured, Lan Qiren returned to the regular flow of daily life at the Cloud Recesses.

It was not easy. As his brother had predicted, rumors about his sworn brotherhood with Wen Ruohan sprang up at once, and many of his fellow disciples were prone to staring at him when they thought he wouldn’t notice. The teachers handed out many punishments for breaking the prohibition about talking behind people’s backs, although with a certain leniency that made Lan Qiren suspect that they themselves toed the line of that particular rule behind closed doors.

The rumors themselves were split between those that theorized that Wen Ruohan had used nefarious means to entrap Lan Qiren and force him to agree to brotherhood – the Fire Palace was mentioned often, as were various theoretical misapplications of cultivation techniques of dark and unsavory natures – and those that skipped over the how of brotherhood and went straight to speculating as to the why, which typically also involved a variety of references to misapplied cultivation techniques, this time of the sort most often found exclusively in certain types of low-brow spring books.

Someone even suggested that Wen Ruohan intended on taking Lan Qiren to bed as a cauldron, which was the stupidest idea out of the whole lot.

“Of course that can’t be true,” Lan Qiren patiently explained to Lan Yueheng, who had come to collect his geometry book. As a gesture of thanks for his support, Lan Qiren had read the whole thing and sent an annotated list of questions and comments; Lan Yueheng had practically turned pink with excitement when he’d seen it and then secluded himself for two days to write a response. Lan Qiren still didn’t see the appeal of geometry, but he’d managed to coax Lan Yueheng into a discussion of the mathematics of music theory, an area in which their particular interests overlapped, and he had hope of a fruitful dialogue continuing into the future. “At least traditionally, cauldrons are individuals with high cultivation potential that has yet to be developed – raw natural talent, in other words, which can then be refined into strength for another. My inborn talent is only moderate, even low, and my progress is primarily due to good resources and hard work. So even if someone put in the work to make me a cauldron, they wouldn’t get much out of me.”

Lan Yueheng nodded, his brow wrinkled thoughtfully. “So your brother would’ve been a better cauldron than you.”

“…that is correct, but please don’t say it.” Lan Qiren quietly pitied Lan Yueheng’s etiquette teachers, and spared a thought to hope that his cousin’s children, should he have them, would take more after whoever he married than him. Even if only because Lan Qiren hoped to become a teacher himself one day, and he was sure that Lan Yueheng’s particularly brash and un-Lan-like bluntness would make for a terrible future student. “Perhaps it would be more helpful for you to think of it in the sense of energy transfers of heat? I’m already cold, so to speak, so he wouldn’t be able to draw out much heat from me.”

“Wait, if you’re cold and Sect Leader Wen is hot, would that make him the cauldron? Assuming you ever did dual cultivate.”

Lan Qiren pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s...not how that works, Yueheng-xiong. At all. I was merely attempting to use a metaphor to clarify the issue. Clearly I failed and only confused things further.”

Lan Yueheng shrugged. “At least you try,” he remarked. “And when you fail, you try again, doing something different. It’s better than the teachers who just do the same thing every time and blame you for being as bemused on the seventh repetition as you were on the first.”

Lan Qiren felt his ears go red at the compliment. “You’ve been here too long,” he reminded his cousin. “Your parents won’t be happy to see you spending too much time with me.”

“My parents don’t care. It’s my aunt and uncle who don’t like it. They say that people might start asking if I cultivate as a cauldron too –”

“Your parents listen to your aunt and uncle, so if they don’t like it, you shouldn’t disobey them. The rules say Be a filial child.”

“They also say Do not form cliques to exclude others, but that isn’t stopping the other disciples from playing favorites, is it?”

That was definitely one of the rules more honored in the breach, Lan Qiren thought with a sigh. But what could be done, when their elders did the same? The sect followed the example of its leader, and his father’s tendency towards favoritism were well known, albeit one that was widely indulged as a quirk rather than condemned as a serious flaw. 

“I will remind the teachers of that one,” he said. “Perhaps a refresher would be suitable, to remind people. But the rule are meant for your own discipline, not others, and – ”

“Just because other people aren’t following the rules doesn’t mean I shouldn’t, I know,” Lan Yueheng said with a sigh of his own. “I’ll go…oh! It’s getting late. Weren’t you supposed to go to the guest’s pavilion by the western watchtower already?”

Lan Qiren blinked. “I don’t have that patrol route in my schedule until the end of the week.”

“No, no! I was supposed to tell you! Lao Nie’s come to visit, and –”

There were rules against running in the Cloud Recesses, so Lan Qiren was slightly late despite his best efforts, but true to form Lao Nie didn’t admonish him: he only turned from where he was sitting in the pavilion and smiled, calling out, “Qiren! There you are!”

“Forgive –”

“Forgiven,” Lao Nie interrupted before Lan Qiren even got the first word out. Lan Qiren was relieved to see that there was neither food nor tea already prepared; he would have been mortified if it had grown cold while Lao Nie was waiting to see him. “And don’t bow, either. How have you been? Tell me people aren’t harassing you over the nonsense with Hanhan.”

Lan Qiren opened his mouth, then hesitated.

“Do not tell lies,” Lao Nie observed, grimacing. “Ah, Qiren! Sometimes your brother’s worse than useless. It’s a pity, really, I hadn’t realized – well. At any rate, I’ve been bothering him for weeks to tell me about you and he wouldn’t say a word.”

“He was angry at me for messing up the conference,” Lan Qiren explained.

Lao Nie’s eyebrows arched. “You mean the conference where the Lan sect got first place in both major events and then extracted serious concessions from the Wen sect in a completely unexpected and nearly inexplicable political coup that got the whole cultivation world talking in awe at your political acumen? That conference?”

“I lost face for him. He thought – well, he’d thought it was worse than it was,” Lan Qiren hesitated. “He’s not the only one.”

Lao Nie huffed. “People are, by and large, stupid,” he declared. “Don’t let them get to you. They’ll change their tune soon enough.”

Lan Qiren wasn’t so sure. “They say a reputation is like a porcelain vase,” he said, unable to conceal his worries in the face of someone actually expressing concern rather than curiosity. His dream was to be a traveling cultivator, and that would be much easier with a good name, which he had always had before – good, or at least boring, which was just fine with him. He preferred to be boring! It had never occurred to him that he might do something that would render him the subject of gossip; it had never happened before. “Once cracked…”

“Right now, there’s only some bored people speculating that there might be a crack,” Lao Nie said. His confidence was contagious; Lan Qiren couldn’t help but relax a little in the face of it. “No one’s actually sure about it, and they’re willing to hear otherwise – things aren’t yet so bad. Don’t worry. I’ve spoken with Hanhan about it already.”

Lan Qiren felt his ears burning in shame. “Lao Nie! You didn’t!”

Especially since that would undoubtedly only make Wen Ruohan even more angry…

Lao Nie laughed and put his hand on his head, rubbing it lightly. “I did. Not in your name, but rather his own – do you think the Wen sect wants to get a reputation for being led by a man with an unhealthy interest in noble-born children? It’s in his interest to get this cleared up as much as you.”

Lan Qiren felt the tension rush out of his shoulders all at once. That hadn’t occurred to him, but now that Lao Nie had pointed it out, it was clear enough.

After all, for all the talk going around about Lan Qiren, it was widely agreed that he was clearly the victim in whatever scenario they’d thought up, whether through having his oath extracted under torture or by force; even among those who theorized that Wen Ruohan intended to use him as a cauldron, the reputation Lan Qiren might get would be, at worst, that of a seductive flirt who couldn’t be resisted. Lan Qiren’s brother had scoffed audibly the first time he’d heard that, saying that such a rumor would naturally be dispelled the moment anyone came in contact with Lan Qiren for more than a moment, and in all honesty Lan Qiren agreed with his assessment. He had the classic Lan sect looks, yes, but so did many others, and he had a demeanor as stern as a schoolmaster, giving off the feel of an old man even though he wasn’t even of age.

Meanwhile, for Wen Ruohan, the consequences were undoubtedly more dire – if he was said to have a taste for boys, especially noble-born ones, the other sects might be afraid to send their sons around him. It was a different reputation by far than his taste for torture, or his supposed use of dark and forbidden cultivation; those would make people fear him, while lusting for children would only make people disdain him.

Still, Lan Qiren wasn’t sure how exactly even someone of Wen Ruohan’s cunning would go about fixing such a mistake – and that was putting aside why he would make such a mistake over Lan Qiren in the first place. He hadn’t had a chance to explain to his brother his theory that Wen Ruohan had acted just to irritate Lao Nie, and in the end he’d decided it wasn’t worth drawing his brother’s attention back to the subject.

Besides, if Lan Qiren could figure it out, with his notorious inability to understand interpersonal affairs, then surely his brother was more than able to do the same. It wasn’t as if Lao Nie were being shy about it…

“Hanhan said he had something in mind,” Lao Nie was saying, shaking his head. “He usually does, I find, and each idea’s more awful than the next.”

Lan Qiren shifted a little from one foot to the other. “If you know he’s awful, why do you…” he hesitated. “I mean, you call him – an endearment.”

“Oh, he’s a little awful, no doubt,” Lao Nie said, sounding rather fond. “But as long as it’s not my sect, what do I care? Anyway, Qiren, you shouldn’t worry. If there’s one thing you can trust with Hanhan, it’s that he takes care of anything associated with himself.”

Lan Qiren didn’t really like the fact that he was now counted among that number.

It didn’t seem all that safe.

“Though of course that doesn’t protect him from you,” Lao Nie added, suddenly smirking, and Lan Qiren blinked owlishly at him. “Apparently, you’re a very talkative drunk.”

Lan Qiren’s face burned red.

“And effusive, too! According to Hanhan, even after you forced him down in his seat to keep listening to you, you kept waving your hands around while you were talking and knocking things over; he had to pin you down to keep you from destroying things by accident.”

That would explain the marks on his arms.

“Apparently, you didn’t appreciate him doing that and kneed him right in the –”

“You really think he can make the rumors go away?” Lan Qiren hastily interrupted, rubbing the back of his neck a little as if it would make the heat of hideous embarrassment go away. That tallied up a little too well with the physical evidence to be anything other than accurate. “There’s – a lot of them. And I’d like to have a clean reputation.”

“You will,” Lao Nie said, thankfully distracted from his mortifyingly plausible story. “Anyone who meets you will know at once that you’re a righteous and upstanding person.”

Lan Qiren liked that better than the way his brother had put it.

“It’s just that you haven’t had a chance to make your name in the cultivation world,” Lao Nie said. He sounded sure of himself. “You’ll do wonderful things one day, Qiren. I’ve no doubt.”

“I don’t want to do wonderful things,” Lan Qiren said, scowling. “I just want to travel around and help people.”

“Yes, I know,” Lao Nie said, and he sounded fond again, just the way he did when he was talking about Wen Ruohan, or even Lan Qiren’s brother. Truly, Lan Qiren thought to himself, the Nie sect had no idea how lucky they were to have him as sect leader. “Really, Qiren, it’s like I said: don’t worry about it. Now come, tell me what you’ve been studying recently.”

Lan Qiren had promised himself that he would reduce the amount of time he spent with Lao Nie on his occasional visits to the Lan sect, not wanting to risk inciting Wen Ruohan’s unreasonable anger and jealousy any further.

He would need to assign himself an appropriate punishment for breaking that promise, he thought, and sat down to start telling Lao Nie all about the work he was doing with one of his teachers on comparing the origin points of the various Lan sect rules, as well as his experiments on arrays to enhance open-air acoustics that would, he hoped, eventually be inscribed on all Lan sect instruments to increase the range and impact of their spell songs.

He even mentioned the possibility of a joint project on the mathematics of musical theory, and for whatever reason he thought Lao Nie looked especially pleased about that.

He didn’t think about Wen Ruohan at all.

[the-bau-quinjet]

A Song For You

Steve Rogers x Singer!Reader

Summary: Snippets of Steve and Reader's life together as she sings a song she wrote for him.

Warnings: mention of car accident, parents dying, mostly just fluff though

Word Count: 6413

a/n: this is a mess, but I'm happy with it. It's basically a series of blurbs that are not in chronological order so I could follow the song. It's inspired by Like My Father by Jax. :) Sorry if it's confusing, hopefully it all makes sense at the end

Masterlist

Steve had been gone for months on a mission. It wasn’t often his missions lasted that long, so of course one of the few times it happened Y/N needed to tell him something important.

She shook off the annoyance as she got ready for Tony’s gala. He wanted to celebrate the successful mission as soon as Steve and Bucky came home. Of course, everyone tried to reason with him that waiting would be better so that the two super soldiers wouldn’t be exhausted, but Tony refused to listen to logic.

“Nonsense. We’re having the party as soon as they arrive.” He stated matter-of-factly before turning to Y/N. “And you, my dear, are going to sing.”

“Tony, maybe you could at least pretend to phrase it as a question?” Pepper scolded, eyeing the woman in question apologetically.

“Sorry. Will you sing at my party?” He grinned, knowing Y/N would say yes since Tony probably already told everyone she would be performing.

“Tony, you’re a menace.” She eyed him before nodding.

“I am, and you’re wonderful!” He exclaimed. “I happen to know you’ve been working on a new song. Care to sing it for Steve at the party?” He grinned.

“I don’t know how you know about that song, but fine. I think he would like it. Avengers only though! I’ll sing something else for all the guests.”

She rolled her eyes at the memory as she finished getting ready. Luckily she was ready early because Tony came running into the room in a panic.

“He’s here!” Tony’s smile widened as he thought about the nights events. “Let’s go!” He practically pulled her from the room, far too eager to share news that wasn’t his.

Tony had Y/N set up on stage right in time for Bucky and Steve to arrive. She sat behind a piano, ready and waiting for Tony’s cue.

As the guests of honor entered the main ballroom, Tony stepped up to the microphone. Steve stared at Y/N with questioning eyes while ignoring Tony’s speech. She smiled lightly, shaking her head at Tony in an effort to explain.

Steve laughed to himself, wishing for nothing more than to hold her after a long 5 months away.

“Give it up for Y/N L/N!” Tony’s introduction came to a close, signaling for her to start playing. It really was over the top considering he was only introducing her to the people who have become family to her, but she let him do his thing.

“Thanks, Tony.” She smiled fondly at Steve before introducing the song. “I wrote this song for someone special. As you all know, my parents died in a car accident a few years ago. Don’t worry, the song’s not that sad.” She earned a few laughs from her friends before she continued. “Ever since I was little, I wanted a love like theirs. It seemed so magical. Well, I found that love.” She smiled at Steve again.

“This one is called Like My Father.” With the name of the song announce, she started singing. Her eyes never left Steve’s.

I wanna come home to roses

Today had been the day from hell for Y/N. First, she woke up late due to accidentally setting her alarm for 6 pm instead of 6 am. She rushed to get out of the tower on time, only for the subway line she was supposed to take to be closed for repairs, making rushing a complete waste since she was going to be late anyway.

In her haste to leave on time, she forwent breakfast which only made her more irritable. By the time she made it to the studio, she had missed her morning meeting and had to play catchup.

The day only got worse from there. Something went wrong with every song she was meant to work on. Sometimes it was a small thing, like a guitar being out of tune. Other times, the song just didn’t feel right. No matter how many different ideas she tried to work on, she just kept running in circles.

By lunch, she was ready to give up and just go home. Unfortunately, her label was having a meeting to discuss progress for the next album’s lead single. So instead, she tried to cheer herself up with her favorite lunch. Just when she was sitting down to eat, someone bumped into her and spilled the entire meal onto the floor.

Suffice to say, by the end of the day, she was ready to collapse into her boyfriend’s arms and sleep the weekend away. However, her boyfriend was currently on a mission out saving the world, so not even he would be able to lift her spirits this time.

She trudged down the hall toward their shared apartment, eager to take a shower and lay down. It wouldn’t be as comforting without Steve, but it was still better than nothing. Finally reaching the door, she turned the key and shoved her way inside. Instantly, she stopped in her tracks.

The scent of tomato sauce filled the air. The soft sounds of Steve’s old music floated through the air, further adding to the welcoming atmosphere. She stood frozen, eyes filling with tears when Steve noticed her. He smiled, too far away to notice the tears, before turning around to get something from the counter. He held whatever it was in both hands behind his back as he walked up to her, a frown slowly forming as he noticed her expression.

“What’s wrong?” He questioned, hands instantly moving around his body to hold her only to be impaired by a beautiful bouquet of white and peach colored roses. Her tears fell despite her smile. She eagerly took the flowers, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug.

“I’m so happy you’re home.” She took a few deep breaths, calming herself before leaning back to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Steve replied easily. “Do you want to talk about it?” Despite not knowing exactly what happened, Steve could tell she had a bad day.

She shook her head, her small smile growing as she inhaled the scent of the roses. “No, I just want to be with you.” She leaned further into the embrace, relishing in the comfort Steve always provided.

“That can be arranged.” Steve smiled, carrying her to the couch to eat.

And dirty little notes on post-its

Three weeks. It had been three weeks since Steve left for his mission and Y/N was still finding his notes around their shared apartment. Every time she added a newly found note to the box, she read through all the previous notes as well. It never failed to cheer her up.

Most of them were simple comments about how much he loved her. Little sayings like “I love you to the moon and back” or “My love for you is as endless as space.” Despite the cheesiness, she couldn’t help but smile with each new note found.

But this newest note was… different. The 21 words scrawled on a bright blue post-it had her flushing instantly.

“I miss the way you feel pressed up against me, can’t wait to come home and pin you against the wall”

Suffice to say, Steve couldn’t come home soon enough.

And when my hair starts turning gray, he’ll say I’m like a fine wine better with age.

“Oh my god.” Her voice was flat as she emerged from their shared bedroom dressed for another one of Tony’s galas. Steve turned to look at her, eyebrows raised.

“What? You look amazing.” He smirked when she blushed.

“Steve. I just found a gray hair.” She pouted, holding the offending piece of hair between her thumb and pointer. “Is this what it feels like to be old?”

“You’re not old.” He chuckled at her dramatics. “And even when all of your hair is gray, I’ll love you even more. Like cheese…” He paused, trying to think of a better comparison. “And wine, you just get better with age.”

“Yeah, whatever.” She rolled her eyes before moving to throw the hair away.

“I mean it. I’m going to love you for the rest of our lives.” He smiled, a familiar fondness in his eyes. She moved closer to embrace him.

“I love you too.”

I guess I learned it from my parents, that true love starts with friendship.

She was nearly running down the street, doing her best to slow down the dog pulling her forward.

“Hudson! Stop!” She tried to speak calmly like her manager- the dog’s owner- instructed, but it was no use. Hudson would not stop running, no matter how hard she tried to make him. “Hudson!” She yelled his name again, surprised when he actually halted.

So surprised in fact, that she was still hurtling forwards, tripping over the now stationary animal. She braced herself for impact, eyes squeezing shut and hands sticking out to catch herself, only for the impact to never come. Instead, two warms hands caught her mid-fall.

Her eyes shot open, heart racing and breathing labored. The man who caught her helped her steady herself on her feet before letting go, smiling sheepishly.

“Thank you.” She breathed out, still taken aback by the turn of events.

“You’re welcome.” He replied kindly. “You’re dog’s pretty strong.” His grimace at his own awkwardness went unnoticed by her as she looked at the dog in question.

“My friends’ dog actually. I’m dog sitting this week.” She smiled, relieved to shift the topic of conversation from her to the dog. “He normally listens really well, but I guess he really wanted to get to the park. I’m Y/N, and this here is Hudson.”

“Nice to meet you both, I’m Steve.” He shook her hand, blushing slightly from the contact. Before she could reply, Hudson leaped at a squirrel, pulling her off balance again. Steve reached out to steady her again.

“Here, let me help.” He shifted the leash from her hand to his own, having a much easier time resisting Hudson’s pulling.

“Thank you… again.” She smiled.

The two walked around the park with Hudson every day that week, becoming fast friends. She wasn’t offended when he didn’t recognize her as one of the biggest names in music, just as he wasn’t offended it took three walks for her to realize he was that Steve Rogers.

They understood each other, despite the wild differences in occupation. Steve could easily relate to Y/N’s aversion to the media. Y/N knew what it felt like to have a team of people relying on you. The two just clicked, and thus a beautiful friendship was formed.

A kiss on the forehead. A date night.

“Hey Steve.” She greeted him warmly when they met up for their weekly coffee. He smiled, but didn’t verbally respond.

The two got their coffee, sitting at a table hidden towards the back. Steve’s replies were short, as if he was thinking of something else during their conversation. By the fifth comment of hers that he merely nodded his head or hummed in response too, Y/N decided to address it. “Are you okay?”

“Go out with me.” He replied quickly, eyes going wide when he realized what he said. Her own eyes widened in response, taken by surprise. “Sorry! I just, I mean- let me start over.” He pleaded, relief filling him when she nodded.

“We’ve been friends for a while now…” She nodded along, eyes still wide. “But, I want more. Let me take you to dinner. And not like we’ve been doing. Let me take you on a date?” He smiled nervously, hands fidgeting with the lid of his coffee cup.

“I’d like that.” She replied simply, unable to form a more complicated sentence due to the butterflies in her stomach.

“Yeah?” He released his breath, unaware he had been holding it. When she nodded, a wide smile appeared on his face. “Good. I’ll pick you up at 7 tomorrow night.”

“You mean I have to wait?” She pouted playfully as they both stood up to leave. He laughed, moving his arm around her shoulders to guide her out of the cafe.

“Just until tomorrow.” He smiled fondly, pressing a kiss to her forehead before helping her into her car.

“Tomorrow then.” She smiled. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

Fake an apology after a fight

“Y/N?” Steve questioned as he entered their apartment. He looked around, unsurprised to see her covered in blankets on the couch. “I’m sorry.” He tried for a small smile, knowing it was of no real use.

“No you’re not.” She pouted, rolling her eyes. “But I forgive you anyway.” She gestured for him to join her on the couch. He jumped at the chance, quickly moving to hold her close to him.

“I am sorry we fought.” He spoke up after a few minutes, still trying to clear the air.

“Me too. It was stupid.” She shook her head, cuddling closer to him. “I just don’t understand why you like it.” She made a face, grimacing at just the thought.

“It’s good! Pizza has really taken on a whole new life since the 30s.” Steve quipped, smiling when you laughed.

“That doesn’t mean pineapple is an okay topping.” She could fell herself getting worked up again, but ultimately the two burst into a fit of giggles. What a stupid fight.

I wanna road trip in the summers

“Steve! You were supposed to turn there!” Y/N laughed as Steve grumbled about the GPS and his preference for maps. “This is why you should’ve let me drive.”

“Nope, because then I couldn’t surprise you.” He smirked, briefly looking at her in the passenger seat.

“What surprise?” She smiled fondly, knowing he wouldn’t tell her.

“You’ll see. Now turn off the GPS, we’re not actually going home.”

Steve drove for the next few hours until the two arrived at a small house just off the beach in Maine. He pulled into the driveway, turning to find Y/N asleep with her head pressed against the window.

“Y/N, we’re here.” He smiled at her groggy state, laughing when her eyes lit up.

“Are we in Maine?” Her eyes filled with tears, a combination of nostalgia, Steve’s surprise, and residual sleepiness the cause.

“We are. As close as I could find to where you used to come when you were little.” He responded, a shy smile on his face. Despite how long they’d been together, Steve was always nervous about surprising her. “I talked to your manager, and you’ve got the weekend off. We’re going to just relax on the beach for three days.”

“It’s perfect.” She gave him a watery smile, pulling him from the back of his neck until her lips met his. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, just-“ Y/N cut him off with another kiss. It was passionate and heated despite the limited area for movement in the car.

“I love you.” She breathed out the words quickly, but meant it with her whole being. “I love you so much. This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.” Tears still burned in her eyes, but the overwhelming happiness she felt made it worth it.

Steve looked shocked at her proclamation, but quickly recovered. “I love you too. More than I’ve ever loved anyone.” Y/N knew exactly what he meant with those words, and it filled her with so much happiness she thought she might combust. He kissed her again, and again, and again.

They shared a few more quick pecks before finally getting out of the car.

I wanna make fun of each other

Meeting Steve’s friends was nerve wracking for a multitude of reasons.

Steve was the only person Y/N had outside of her career. All of her friends were somehow tied to her music, except Steve. Her parents died a few years ago, and she didn’t have any other family. If things went poorly with Steve’s friends, would he leave too?

Plus, all of his friends are superheroes. That’s an intimidating group of people to meet even if you aren’t trying to win them over so you can keep dating their friend.

“Just relax, they’re going to love you.” Steve whispered into her ear as the two rode the elevator up to the main residential floor. Steve did what he could to keep the event simple. It was just drinks with his friends, who happened to be Avengers.

“If you say so.” She smiled nervously, laughing to herself. Before Steve could reply with more words of encouragement, the elevator doors were opening. Steve lead her down the hall to a room that resembled a lounge in a fancy hotel. Bars lined two of the walls, a mixture of blue and white furniture sprinkled throughout the room.

“Ahh, here they are!” Tony Stark quickly rose from his seat, ready to meet the woman stealing away all of the Captain’s time.

“Tony, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is-”

“Tony Stark, I know.” She quipped. In her stress to meet all of Steve’s friends, she forgot to mention that she had already met the billionaire. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Again?” Steve questioned a the same time Tony recognized you. His jaw dropped as he turned back to Steve.

“We met at a fundraiser a few years ago-“ Tony jumped in before you could finish the explanation.

“You’re dating Y/N L/N? The Y/N L/N? Famous singer-songwriter, been topping the charts for years, Y/N L/N?” He balked, eyes rapidly flicking between Steve and Y/N.

“Um… yes?” Steve questioned Tony’s reaction, unsure why he was so surprised. “I told you her name already…” He shook his head, waiting for the teasing he knew was incoming.

“You didn’t mention it was actually her! I just thought it was someone with the same name!” Tony nearly yelled, still thrown off by the surprise.

“What’s going on over here?” Natasha walked up to the trio, one eyebrow lifted at all the noise.

“Y/N L/N!” Tony gestured to her. She nervously waved to Natasha, sticking her hand out in greeting.

“Nice to meet you.” She mumbled, one hand still holding Steve’s in a death grip.

“You too, I’m Natasha.” The two women shook hands, giving Tony time to finally find his words.

“I have to know, did Capsicle recognize you when you met?” Tony lead everyone back to the couches, foregoing the rest of the introductions to start pestering you with questions.

“I think he’s a bit outside of my target audience age wise. I don’t hold it against him.” Y/N replied, laughing when Steve rolled his eyes.

“Oh snap, she just called you old.” Sam chimed in, reaching out a hand to introduce himself. “Sam Wilson.”

You smiled at him, introducing yourself as you shook his hand.

“Here’s the real question. Did you recognize him?” Bucky questioned, already knowing the answer. Steve introduced Y/N to Bucky early on in their friendship when Bucky followed him to one of their weekly coffee dates.

“Bucky, you already know the answer to that.” Y/N deadpanned, not eager to share her lack of knowledge on world events. Steve cut in to answer before Bucky could reply.

“She did not. Told me the name sounded so familiar, but she couldn’t place it.” Steve laughed as he teased you.

“You make me sound so stupid! I knew who Captain America was, I just didn’t realize it was you.” She huffed, annoyed with how quickly the tables turned.

Steve changed the topic by moving to introduce her to the rest of the avengers in attendance; Wanda, Vision, Thor, Clint, Bruce, and Peter.

Y/N continued to share stories with the group, laughing and joking at both her and Steve’s expense. Steve smiled fondly as he watched her interact with his friends, getting along just as well as he knew she would.

I wanna rock out to Billy Joel

“Stupid. All of these ideas are stupid. How am I supposed to put out another album when I can’t even write one decent song.” Y/N huffed to herself, unaware of Steve’s presence in the room.

He moved silently through the room as she continued writing down and crossing out ideas. Suddenly, the sound of Billy Joel’s We Didn’t Start the Fire filled the room.

“Steve?” She jumped at the noise, smiling when she found him next to the record player. “Billy Joel?’ She questioned.

“You played me this song after a bad mission. Told me to think about it whenever I needed a reminder that the world’s problems aren’t my fault. Thought it might help.” He shrugged, a small smile on his face.

“I love you.” She got up from the couch, eager to pull him into a bone crushing hug.

“I love you too.” He returned her hug, careful not to actually crush her bones.

The two of them spent the next few hours playing Billy Joel, dancing and singing around the apartment.

And flip our kids off when they call us old

“Okay, grandpa.” Sam chuckled.

“Hey! I’m the only one allowed to make fun of how old he is.” Y/N playfully glared at Sam, enjoying their newfound friendship. “Plus, he’s younger than Bucky.”

“Rude.” Bucky called from the other couch, mostly ignoring Sam and Y/N’s bickering. It was a bit weird for him to hear someone else yelling at Sam, but he appreciated it nonetheless.

“Everyone calls him old.” Sam narrowed his eyes, confusion playing across his face.

“Yeah, but when it’s not me I have to defend him. Like when Pepper defends Tony from Morgan.” She easily compared her and Steve’s relationship to the couple, not realizing the weight of the moment.

“You see your relationship like Tony and Pepper?” Bucky questioned, now completely focused on Y/N.

She shrugged casually, unaware of the tension she created. “I mean, yeah. I think that’s where we headed.” She would be the first to admit she loved Steve more than she’s ever loved a boyfriend before. She likes to think Steve feels the same. “Why do you ask?”

Bucky shook his head, trying his best to seem casual. “Just curious is all.” He waited a few minutes before leaving, allowing Sam and Y/N to start up their conversation again. As soon as he was out of the room, he asked Friday for Steve’s location.

He had news to report.

He’ll accidentally burn our dinner

“Honey, I’m home!” Y/N called as she walked through the door. She was in a surprisingly good mood after a mediocre day.

“You seem happy.” Steve greeted as he walked into the living room from the kitchen. He pulled her close, kissing her before resting his chin on top of her head.

“I am happy. You’re here, what’s there to be mad about?” She squeezed him tighter, enjoying the feeling of his arms wrapped around her.

“You make me happy too.” He pulled her onto the couch, eagerly kissing her after the day apart. He had returned from a mission just before she left for work, and seeing each other in passing was not enough.

“I missed you.” He mumbled against her mouth.

“I missed you too- is something burning?” She leaned away from him, sniffing the air.

“Shit!” He jumped from the couch, running into the kitchen as you laughed at his antics.

“Steve, language!” She called out in mock shock, laughing harder as he whined about burnt pizza.

And let me be the Scrabble winner

“Steve, sucks at Scrabble? Since when?” Wanda questioned as she ate brunch with Y/N and Nat.

“Um, always?” Y/N replied as if it was obvious.

“I have never seen Steve lose a game of Scrabble.” Nat chimed in, smirking as if she already knew what was going on (and lets face it, she probably did).

“Well, I always beat him.” She shrugged. Wanda smirked, clearly forming a plan.

“Well, you’ll just have to play Scrabble tonight and Nat and I will check if he can play better words or not!” Nat nodded along having seen this plan coming.

“Fine.” Y/N agreed, knowing there was no way of talking them out of this.

-

“Steve! Let’s play Scrabble!” Y/N smiled knowing Steve would give her anything she asked for. He walked into the living room with the box, a grin on his face.

The two of them set up the game and drew letters, immediately jumping into the game. After a few turns, Y/N texted Nat and Wanda to come into the living room to enact their plan. She watched from the corner of her eye as the two women watched Steve rearrange his letters.

When he played CAT for 7 points, Wanda gasped. Steve jumped slightly, turning around to investigate the noise.

“Oh my god.” Y/N’s jaw dropped as she realized Steve’s been letting her win.

“He was all set to play ADEQUATE, for probably a billion points, and he played CAT instead!” Wanda pointed accusingly at Steve while Nat just grinned.

“You’ve been letting me win this whole time?” Y/N threw a pillow at him, upset with the confirmation.

“Not every time! Sometimes I have bad letters.” He rubbed the back of his neck shyly. “You just look so happy when you win.”

A small smile took over Y/N’s frown. How could she be annoyed when he was just trying to make her happy.

“I love you.” She rolled her eyes at his puppy dog look. “But don’t go easy on me this time!”

“I love you too.” Steve smirked knowingly and suddenly Y/N was rethinking everything.

And when my body changes shapes, he’ll say ‘oh my god you look hot today’

“I look fat.” Y/N huffed as she plopped down on the couch, still trying to find a dress to wear out with Steve tonight.

“You’re beautiful.” Steve commented from the kitchen, causing her to shriek.

“You’re not supposed to be home yet!” She placed her hand on her heart, feeling the rapid beating from Steve scaring her.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. But you do look beautiful.” He smirked as he walked closer, easily lifting her from the couch. “You look hot everyday.”

He kissed her passionately to convey just how much he believed what he was saying.

I need a man who’s patient and kind

“Steve, I need a few more minutes!” She called as she ran into their bedroom from the office. The two of them were meant to be leaving for dinner 45 minutes ago, but Y/N’s manager forced her into a last minute meeting with a potential collaborator.

“That’s fine.” He called back, a smile on his face. “Take your time, love.”

“How are you so patient.” Y/N huffed as she quickly changed clothes, annoyed with herself for delaying their plans.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her to him. “It happens. I’ve missed dates for mission before.”

“Yeah, but that’s important.” Y/N replied, leaning into his embrace.

“So is your work.” He chuckled as she rolled her eyes.

“Not so important it couldn’t wait a day.” She closed her eyes, taking a moment to just breath. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Steve questioned, genuinely confused.

“For being so kind and understanding. For never making me feel like my job is less important than yours, even though it totally is. For being you.” She replied, easily listing things she’s thankful for.

“Thank you for being you.” He replied casually, still holding her to him. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She smiled before wiggling from his arms to finish getting ready.

Gets out of the car and holds the door

“I’m finally ready. Let’s go!” Y/N called, fully letting go of her annoyance at her manager for delaying her dinner plans.

“Perfect.” Steve grabbed his keys before turning to look at her. He sucked in a breath, eyes slowing gazing over her body. “You’re perfect.”

She blushed, kissing him on the cheek in response. Steve lead her to the car, opening the door for her, pressing a kiss to her lips before jogging around to the driver’s side.

“Where are we going?” She questioned, eager to finally be able to focus on him.

“Dinner.” He replied, a cheeky grin forming.

“Fine, don’t tell me.” She deadpanned, smiling as he laughed.

They discussed anything and everything they could think of as Steve drove to the restaurant, topics ranging from new songs they both liked to what a T-Rex would have for breakfast if it could cook like a person.

Eventually, the car pulled to a stop outside of a small, family owned Italian place. The lights were on, but there was nobody seated at any of the tables.

“Are you sure they’re open?” Y/N questioned, confused by his smile.

“They’re open… just for us.” He smiled shyly. “I wanted you to have a peaceful dinner, so Tony helped me find a place I could book for us for the night. No Y/N L/N or Captain America fans to interrupt.”

“Steve…” She trailed off, unable to form words. She hadn’t even gotten out of the car yet and she was speechless. He walked back around the car, opening the door and guiding her inside. She let him lead her all the way through the building until they reached the outdoor seating.

A string of tapered lightbulbs was strung across the patio, lighting up a single table in the middle. A few candles littered the area, adding to the romantic atmosphere.

“It’s beautiful.” She smiled, leaning in to kiss him before sitting down. Before she could say anything else, a familiar face greeted her.

“My name is Sam, and I’ll be serving you this evening. Can I get you started with something to drink?” Sam smiled at your shocked expression.

“Sam? What are you doing here?” She laughed, confused and overwhelmed with joy.

“I told you, nobody to interrupt us tonight.” Steve smiled, glaring at Sam for playing around. “Sam, I already told you what to bring out.”

“Couldn’t resist.” Sam winked, quickly returning with the drinks Steve requested. Y/N and Steve thanked him before returning to their conversation.

“You didn’t have to go to this much trouble.” Y/N spoke softly, still blown away by the effort and planning Steve must have put into this.

“I know. But I wanted to. You deserve it.” He smiled, taking her hadn’t across the table. “Now, I’ll bet you’re hungry since we were supposed to eat an hour ago.” As if on cue, Sam returned with Bucky, both carrying plates of food. “Let’s eat.”

The two of them continued their conversation from the car as they ate, topics again roaming all over the place. Before she knew it, Y/N had finished eating and Sam was back with dessert.

She looked down at the peach cobbler, laughing to herself. “You know me so well.” She smiled, grinning even more when he offered to share his chocolate cake. “The best of both worlds.”

When she finished eating and looked back up at Steve he was missing from his spot across the table. Instead of sitting in his chair, he was kneeling on the patio beside the table, a velvet box in his hand.

Her eyes widened as she took in the sight before her. Suddenly everything made sense. The lack of rushing, the completely private restaurant, not even having servers in the building. He wanted this to be a private moment.

“Y/N, the day I met you changed my life. I’ll have to thank Hudson for dragging you into the park that day, because I’ve never met anyone as special as you. Every moment with you is like a gift, and I want to spend the rest of my days experiencing life with you. Will you marry me?”

She nodded for a few seconds before finally finding her voice. “Yes.” It was barely above a whisper, but it was enough for Steve to delicately place the ring on her finger. “I love you so much.” She smiled, throwing herself into his arms the second he stood up.

“I love you too.” He replied, framing her face with his hands before kissing her.

I wanna slow dance in the living room like we’re 18 at senior prom

The ride home from dinner was filled with hand holding, giddy squeals, and hundreds of “I love you’s” from both Steve and Y/N. They eagerly ran back to their apartment, giggling like teenagers, high on love.

Steve quickly pulled her into the living room, kissing her over and over. She reciprocated, eager to share her happiness.

“Steve?” She questioned between kisses, waiting for him to hum in response. “Will you dance with me?” She smiled at him. Surprisingly, the two had never really danced together before. The only opportunity would have been at one of Tony’s parties, but they’re always so busy mingling with everyone.

“I’d love to.” He replied, that same fond smile on his face that she’d grown to love more than anything. She clapped, running over to the record player. She chose the first love song she could find, Cheek to Cheek by Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong.

As the music played, the two swayed together, feeling more in love than ever before. Steve quietly sung the words in her ear, expressing all the raw emotion he’d been feeling since she said yes.

“Heaven, I’m in heaven. And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak.” Y/N joined him, singing along to convey her own happiness as well.

“And I seem to find the happiness I seek, when we’re out together, dancing cheek to cheek.”

They danced around the living room for a few songs, letting the record play through. It wasn’t until the music stopped that they even realized the song changed, too lost in the feeling of being together.

And grow old with someone who makes me feel young

I need a man who loves me like, my father loves my mom

“We’re getting married tomorrow.” Y/N floated through the halls, humming Cheek to Cheek again. After dancing to it the night of their engagement, the couple decided it would be their first dance song. Steve walked up behind her, picking her up and spinning around until they reached the kitchen.

“We are.” He replied, just as elated as her. She giggled playfully, smiling wider than ever before. She was just about to say something when Nat and Wanda bust into the room.

“C’mon. It’s time to go!” Wanda called, gathering Y/N’s belongings.

“Where?” The woman questioned, still wrapping in Steve’s arms.

“You’re getting married tomorrow. It’s bad luck to see each other before the wedding.” Wanda spoke as if it was obvious.

“Nat?” Y/N questioned, hoping someone would understand it was just a superstition. Nat just shrugged, helping Wanda as she pulled you out of the room.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” Steve called after her, a smile on his lips as he thought about seeing you again.

-

Standing at the altar, looking into Steve’s eyes, everything she prepared to say dissolved from her mind. She got lost in his blue eyes, listening to him recite his vows. All the love she felt exploded in one quick statement.

“You make me feel young.” She blurted out the words without thinking.

“Is that another old man joke?” He crinkled his eyebrows, confused by the exclamation. The onlookers chuckled.

“No! That’s not what I meant at all.” She laughed, burying her face in his chest. “I just mean, we’re grown adults.” He nodded, still confused. “But when I’m with you, I feel like a kid again. Like all my problems go away and I can just be in love with you. Like my parents were.” Tears formed in her eyes as she thought about the gravity of her statement.

Steve knew how much her parents love influenced her life. She had multiple songs inspired by their relationship and happiness.

“Oh, sweetheart. You make me feel young too. Like how I should have felt as a kid.” He decided against further explanation, not wanting to weigh down the ceremony with talk of war and his sickly youth.

“I just, I never thought I’d actually find a love like theirs, despite how much I wanted to. I think they would’ve loved you.” Steve wiped her tears as they rolled down her cheeks. He pressed his forehead to hers just feeling the need to be close.

“My ma would’ve loved you too.” He replied, his own throat getting tight. They cried as they finally said “I do”, no place they’d rather be.

And if he lives up to my father, maybe he can teach our daughter

Y/N rose from the piano as she sang the last line, exposing her growing belly to the group of Avengers, but more specifically to Steve.

What it takes to love a queen, she should know she’s royalty.

Everyone cheered for her performance, but her eyes were only on Steve’s. His jaw hung open, tears pooling in his eyes. She made her way to him, everyone moving out of her way.

As soon as she reached Steve, he pulled her into a gentle hug, eagerly kissing her.

“I love you so much.” He whispered, holding her close.

“I love you too.” She replied, just as emotional as he was.

“Are you really pregnant?” He leaned back, chuckling at the “duh” look on her face. She wiped his tears as they fell.

“I found out just after you left.” She smiled, leaning into him as he lowered his forehead to hers.

“We’re going to have a daughter.” He sounded breathless, overwhelmed with the news.

“I would’ve told you in private, but Tony insisted on having this party.” She laughed when he rolled his eyes at Tony’s antics.

“You wrote me a song.” He smiled, still holding her close.

“Oh, baby. I’ve written you dozens of songs.” She laughed when he leaned back in confusion. “They’re not all good. I wanted to finish the album before I played it for you. This was the last song.” She smiled, still overwhelmingly in love with the man in front of her.

“I love you. So much.” They spoke at the same time, swaying together as Tony invited all the remaining guests into the ballroom. They missed the song, but it was clear to everyone the room how much the two loved each other.

permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner

@jesuswasnotawhiteman

@strawberryspence

@sebastnstn

marvel taglist:

@leyannrae

@livstilinski

@oceaniamaddness

@justreadingficsdontmindme

[kaistarus]

Enchanted

Chapter 1

Pairing: NishinoyaXReader

Word: 2.2K

Summary: When your best friend enters a relationship with a prince your life changes in ways you never thought possible. You gain new friendships, learn dangerous secrets, and discover that maybe love might exist for you after all...

A/N: This is going to be a longer project and I’m super excited for it!! :) I already have the next several chapters drafted so we’re looking good

Masterlist

Next

“I cannot believe you’re being courted by a literal prince,” you rested your chin on crossed arms, watching the crowd wandering the festival grounds-couples arm-in-arm while admiring the colorful decor hanging from trees and strung across poles, children chiming with laughter as they chased through their parent’s legs, and musicians creating a melodious tune that floated gently above the ruckus. “I have yet to find one decent man, but you get a prince.”

“You’re the one who decided to skip the town’s annual pie judging contest,” Hinata smirked down at you and your glare strengthened.

“Because it’s a stupid event. How was I supposed to know the prince would show up?”

“They were bound to let him out eventually,” Hinata leaned against the counter with a cocky smile and you clenched your fists into the material of your dress.

“I don’t think the prince would have liked you anyway,” Yachi appeared from behind a curtain holding a tray of baked goods, sliding it onto the wooden countertop, “judging by who he chose to spend time with.”

You groaned, planting your forehead onto the wood’s surface. “I’m going to be alone forever.”

“Well, you’re not exactly the kindest to anyone that tries flirting with you…” Yachi raised a dainty brow while transferring cupcakes onto a display.

“That’s because they’re all the worst,” you waved her off. “Anyone my father sets me up with is a snob.”

“I’m impressed you’ve gotten this far,” Hinata commended while overlooking the festival grounds, “that your father has not just married you off already.”

“My mother would never let him,” your nose crinkled at the concept. Regardless how difficult you became you knew that someone would have your back. “You’re lucky, Yachi. You don’t have to worry about this nonsense.”

“I suppose that is true,” Yachi smiled apologetically, holding the tray tightly to her chest and observing her display. There were various pastries-cupcakes, scones, croissants, tarts-lined up and stacked in neat patterns for viewing pleasure. “Does it look okay?

“It looks great,” you grinned.

“Are you sure?” Yachi twisted a few baked goods an unnoticeable amount. “I don’t want to let my family down.”

“They wouldn’t have put you out here if they didn’t think you were ready.” You gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Besides, you have me.”

Hinata chuckled before his eyes widened in panic, hand shooting out to grip yours painfully. You whined, trying to pull him off while following his gaze to figure out what could have possibly caused such a reaction-an amused smile grew when you saw prince Kageyama entering the festival grounds.

“Oh, your prince charming has arrived,” you said with a teasing lilt. Hinata glowered at you to which you childishly stuck your tongue out in response.

“I didn’t know he would be here.”

“He surprised you,” Yachi clasped her hands together. “How romantic.”

Hinata whined in despair and you giggled at his misery, and with all the attention the prince was drawing in you had nearly missed the guard that entered the festival with him. He was dressed very casually, walking a languid pace with his hands clasped behind his head-the only thing giving him away was the weapon sheathed at his hip.

Your expression dropped, “he brought a babysitter.”

“You seriously thought they were going to let the prince walk around unprotected?”

Your shoulders slumped at the familiar condescending voice and you side-eyed the pair approaching Yachi’s family’s booth. You welcomed Yamaguchi’s warm smile any day of the week, but Tsukishima could quite frankly never come near you again and you would die happy.

“I just didn’t notice the guard,” you glared at Tsukishima’s belittling smirk. The guard didn’t exactly look anything quality the royal guard had to offer, you observed after giving him further inspection. He looked more like a last minute grab. “He doesn’t look like much protection anyway.”

“Doesn’t look like-” Yamaguchi looked between you and the guard bewildered. “That is the Guardian Deity.”

You blinked several times before your eyes widened in surprise, locking back to the guy following prince Kageyama at a comfortable pace. That was the highest ranking guard in the royal court? You crinkled your nose after giving him another once-over. After all the tales you had heard you had expected the Guardian Deity to be… bigger? More intimidating for sure.

Honestly, based on appearance, you felt like you could handle him in a fight.

“He doesn’t look very scary,” Yachi said, sounding uncertain.

“Why?” Hinata’s cheeks were puffed up in annoyance. “Is it because he’s short? What are you trying to say?”

“I think it’s more because his hair is so stupid,” Tsukishima snickered.

“I don’t think we should be mocking him,” Yamaguchi said warily, shrinking into his shoulders. “I heard he has insane hearing.”

“That sounds made up, Yams” You crossed your arms.

You glanced back at the guard and stiffened when you made direct eye-contact with him, quickly shooting your stare to your lap. Surely that was just a wild coincidence...

You heard Hinata take a shuddering breath beside you before straightening himself out, “alright, I’m going in. Wish me luck.”

A chorus of encouraging words, aside from Tsukishima, rang behind Hinata as he left the safety of your group. You tapped your fingers against the counter, unable to control your nervous jitters as Hinata noticeably stumbled over his opening lines while prince Kageyama smiled down at him-the guard clearly attempting to hold back a laugh.

The Guardian Deity had a bright smile while introducing himself and Hinata seemed to easily relax in the man’s presence, which further added to your skepticism of his identity. He didn’t fit the grand title at all.

“I guess dating a prince will be harder than we realized,” Yachi pressed a hand against her cheek thoughtfully.

“If anyone can do it Hinata can.” Yamaguchi said, reaching for a pastry before Yachi swatted it.

“It’s still unfortunate he can’t embarrass himself in peace,” you frowned, leaning your cheek in your palm while watching the guard do his best to remain straight face.

“I have an idea,” Tsukishima started with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “How about you go and distract the guard?”

“How about I what?”

“Hey, that’s actually not a bad idea,” Yachi added while she swatted Yamaguchi’s hand after another failed attempt at swiping a muffin.

“Are you guys not listening about how that is the Guardian Deity?” Yamaguchi gestured wildly in his direction. “You can’t just waltz over there and distract him, are you crazy?”

“Oh, so you’re saying I can’t do it?” You narrowed your eyes at him and he blinked.

“That is exactly what I just said. Yes.”

Your cheeks puffed up and you stood from your stool. “Highest ranked guard means nothing. This will be easy.”

“(Y/N) this is such a bad idea,” Yamaguchi pleaded as you walked around the stand, brushing the nonexistent dirt off your dress. “You could get in serious trouble.”

“No, she will be completely fine.” Tsukishima waved you off. “You can do it. I have complete faith in you.”

Everyone paused and slowly turned to stare at Tsukishima. Yachi began waving you back to her nervously.

“On second thought I think Yamaguchi is right. This might be a bad idea.” She frowned.

“Too late,” you sighed, pivoting toward the trio wandering around the festival. “I’ve already made up my mind.”

You marched in their direction with Tsukishima’s off putting words of encouragement echoing behind you and felt your heart pounding stronger the closer you got to the group. Once in range you caught Hinata’s confused stare, shifting between you and the guard before a knowing smile formed. You narrowed your eyes into a ‘you-owe-me’ glare and took a calming breath before standing before the Guardian Deity.

He glanced over, doing a double take once he realized you weren’t walking away. You opened your mouth, freezing up once you realized you had confidently marched over with absolutely no game plan. The Guardian Deity raised an eyebrow at your hesitation.

“Uh… hi.” You lamely stumbled out.

“Hello,” his lips quipped into a quick smirk and you felt yourself die a little inside from embarrassment.

“How is the, uh, night-how is your night going?” You clenched your fists. You needed to get yourself together before you went back a failure and gave Tsukishima an actual reason to make fun of you.

“Good,” he crossed his arms and gave you a once-over.

“Great, that’s great.” You rocked on the balls of your feet. “You always want… good nights that is very important.”

He hummed, glancing over your shoulder. “How’s your night?”

“It is a night… for sure.”

“Great. I’d be worried if it was anything else.” His eyes held a hint of amusement and if you weren’t meant to be distracting him you would be more irritated by it. He bowed slightly. “I’m Nishinoya.”

“Oh, (Y/F/N),” you returned the gesture before raising a brow. “No first name Nishinoya?”

“Unfortunately not.”

You hummed, assuming it was classified for some reason or another-likely rank. You briefly wondered what other secrets he had while subtly peeking at where Hinata had been, smirking when you didn’t see him.

You were better at this distracting thing than you thought.

“If you’re looking for your friend he and the prince snuck off to the woods,” Nishinoya threw a thumb over his shoulder. “They’re probably making out or something.”

Your shoulders stiffened and you slowly met his eyes. “You were watching them?”

“Well, that’s my job,” he glanced over your shoulder again. “Yachi and Yamaguchi look pretty impressed with your distraction skills though. Tsukishima just looks mad, but that is supposedly his default.”

Your mouth opened and closed several times before you furrowed your brow. “How do you know their names? What did you-” You covered your mouth in shock. “Oh my god, could you hear us?”

“Hear you?” He cocked his head to the side confused. “No, I had to do a background check on Hinata so Kageyama could come here.”

“Oh,” you mumbled, feeling your face warming. You knew Yamaguchi was just saying stupid rumors. “Wait, does that mean you already knew my name?”

“No,” he said with a mischievous tone. “Even if I did it’s always better hearing it from the original source.”

You gave him a skeptical once-over. “You seem pretty bad at your job Nishinoya if you’re willingly letting the prince out of sight.” You accused and he blinked a few times before a sly smile filled his face.

“And you seem pretty rude for a Lady,” Nishinoya crossed his arms, “trying to flirt with a high-ranking guard to let your friend sneak off with a prince doesn’t fit your family’s status, does it?”

You puffed up your cheeks in annoyance. “Well, flirting with a Lady and letting the prince sneak off seems unprofessional for a high-ranking guard.”

“Except I worked out an agreement ahead of time with prince Kageyama to let him be alone with Hinata,” Nishinoya gestured toward the forest, “and I’ve been keeping an eye on them this whole time, so I am professional, contrary to your opinion.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but fell short, feeling yourself getting flustered. “So, you just let me try to distract you for no reason?”

“I like you distracting me,” he smiled, wiggling his eyebrows. “You should do it more often. It’s fun.”

You scoffed, “not a chance.”

You pivoted around and began stomping away toward your friends when he called after you, “but we barely made it past introductions.”

“I have a feeling you already know more about me than I’d like,” you shot over your shoulder and by the innocent smile he gave back you knew you were right.

“I’ll see you soon.” He waved.

“Don’t count on it,” you called back, pouting when you heard him cackle before you were out of hearing range.

“I knew you could do it!” Yachi cheered when you plopped back down into the stool beside her.

“Yeah,” you looked away with an awkward chuckle. “I told you it would be easy.”

“I don’t believe it. He probably let her do it or something,” Tsukishima rolled his eyes and you sneered at how accurate he was.

“Was he terrifying?” Yamaguchi leaned over the counter inches from your face. “Did he have super hearing? Could he shoot lightning from his sword? How fast were his reflexes? Did he tell you how he got the blonde streak? Could he-”

You pushed his face back and rolled your eyes, “no, Yams. Those were all just rumors. He’s a normal guy.”

Yamaguchi’s shoulders sagged in disappointment at your unfortunate news. You raised a brow at his pout since you never knew Yamaguchi was such a Guardian Deity fanboy.

Your eyes drifted to Nishinoya leaning lazily against a tree trunk near the entrance of the festival, eyes scouring the event. You supposed if all anyone heard were rumors it would be possible to like him, but in reality he was no different than any other guy you’d talked too-annoying and cocky.

As if he could sense your insulting thoughts his eyes flickered in your direction. You held your breath as you locked eyes with his intense amber stare, expression dropping when he relaxed into a cocky smirk. You stuck your tongue out childishly and turned back to Yachi who was helping a customer choose between a cupcake with pink or orange frosting.

You really hoped Nishinoya was wrong. You didn’t want to see him anytime soon.

[golddaggers]

girl crush

pairing: best friend!harry styles x reader;

warnings: none really just a smidge of angst but plenty of fluff. 

a/n: so here we are! i just ask of you to go kind on me because this is my first time, ok? and sort of self indulging. anyway. leave a comment/reblog if you do like it!

word count: about 2,8k. it’s a quick little thing.

It was a typical Tuesday, I’d woken up, drank my large-sized cup of coffee, and then spent almost five hours straight staring at my computer screens. Not that all of those hours had been any good, I searched and searched, but still hadn’t cracked just how I was supposed to solve the problem. Hell, about three times I was yelling at the machine, calling it ‘bloody stupid’ before trying another approach, still proven worthless. 

Lunch had been skipped, I barely took a bite of my grilled sandwich before diving back to the code lines, analysing. I’ve always been so good at cracking things, finishing hard puzzles… At least I needn’t worry about a deadline breathing down my neck, this particular feature would only be out to the end-users on the major release. 

Either way, the idea of not being able to come up with a solution bugged me. I could never leave things well enough alone if they were unsolved. It was only when one of my friends texted me about some old high school chick we both used to hate that was pregnant that I realised how late it was. My back hurt from spending too much time sitting down on my chair and I could feel my eyes tired, staring at a computer screen for so many hours wasn’t exactly too healthy. 

At least it put the tornado of thoughts I’ve been having for the past couple of weeks to ease. I didn’t want to think about how I had the worst timing ever. Or how I was a big coward for keeping this to myself. 

But… I couldn’t just tell him. Falling in love with your best friend seems easy in the movies, in reality, I was overwhelmed with anxiety. Harry and I grew up together, we were inseparable from the first time we shared toys in our old town’s playground. Never before I would’ve thought I’d be here, with butterflies rioting in my stomach when he flashed his green eyes at me. It’d be easy if I could just open up, only opening up meant I could lose our 20 and something years of friendship. That was just too much to lose.  

Now it seemed as if I had lost my chance. He’d gone out on a date with a girl. They’d been going out for a while. She was… breathtaking. Golden hair, brown eyes, freckles, and a body I wouldn’t ever have. Harry wasn’t the easiest to commit to someone, not that he was a womaniser or something within those lines… He just had problems. Like we all do, I suppose. He seemed genuinely interested in her, though, and it killed me inside to realise it. 

I looked toward a corner where a tiny pink ukulele rested and decided I could do with some singing. So I go over to pick it up, playing a couple of notes to see if it was tuned. It’d been a while since I last took it between my hands. Hadn’t enough time to do anything, if I was being honest. 

Sat back on my chair, I take my time to reminisce over a song I heard him humming a few days ago. Harry had been doing the dishes, something he hated, but I’d cooked for the two of us, so it was the least he could do. He laughed like a child all the way to the sink, even put on my pink apron. It wasn’t unusual for him to do them when he was in fact at home - which happened only a few handfuls of weeks at a time. 

Leaning against the counter top, I watched him. Then the humming began. One would think a singer would get enough on the stage, well, maybe they do, not him though. In the shower, sending texts, doing the dishes… Harry was always singing something. Low and more to himself. I couldn’t lie, even if I wanted to, that I love when he’s home, his entire being enough to warm up the place. 

That night I had been wearing one of his old tees, he leaves them everywhere. And it wasn’t unusual for me to “steal” some for myself, besides being comfy, especially the cotton sweaters, they all smelt like him. Felt homely to be inside them, as if he were sleeping next to me. 

“I’ve got a girl crush…” I start, unsure if I’ve got the tone right, “Hate to admit it, but I got a heart rush, it ain’t slowing down.”

My legs are crisscrossed as I rest further back onto the black cushion of my chair. Each note fueled the turmoil growing inside my chest. It was so true, every time I looked at her, the pictures on her Instagram were flawless… I wanted to have everything she had. Because if I did, maybe he would look at me differently, he’d see me in a different light. 

The very instrument on my hands had been a gift from him. I have always enjoyed playing the guitar, I came to write a few songs myself… But I’ve never seen it as something I’d want to do for a living. Didn’t like the spotlight very much, not that being friends with a worldwide known popstar helped. Paps seemed to be everywhere. It was just annoying how we couldn’t enjoy a single outing without being awakened with a buzzing phone. My other friends texting me the several headlines saying “Harry Styles has been seen yet again with childhood best friend, could they be dating?”

Got worse when we moved in together. The thing was… We didn’t really live together, yes, the house, more like a mansion if I was being honest, belonged to him and he stayed there whenever he was in London, which, if he was working too much, seldom happened. So no, we didn’t live together. Harry just thought it’d be nice for me to stay there since it was so empty all the time and I only said yes because I needed saving money to pay off the loan I had taken to cover my university tuition. It felt like a lifetime away. 

I stayed because I had grown spoiled. At first, I was annoyed he didn’t let me pay for the expenses whenever he was away, I was nowhere rich, but now I made more than enough to cover the bills, even for a house as big as this one, since most of it was inhabited. He insisted on me keeping it, doing fun things I wanted to do, and I shouldn’t worry about anything else. A couple of months later, I saw the appeal to his offer. I also knew my best friend well to know he was a stubborn son of a bitch.  

Everything changed when Harry told me about his golden girl. After so many years, we had grown aware of the other’s quirks, as I like to put it, we knew how to deal with one another. My point being was… Harry could be a bit sensitive when I told him about my dates, now it lights a spark of hope within me, back then, however, I brushed it off as him trying to act as a protective big brother. He, on the other hand, never had problems when talking about the people he dated to me. Often I wouldn’t care. This time… It happened right after the fatidic Tuesday. 

The pain stung like a sharp edge of a knife against my heart.  

“I wanna’ taste her lips, yeah, ‘cos they taste like you… I wanna’ drown myself in a bottle of her perfume...” The notes come out soft, I can hear a little metallic sound as my hands switch the notes and I keep singing the sad lyrics, “Yeah, ‘cos maybe then, you’d want me just as much...” 

“Thought I had a nightingale in this room,” His accent slipped through the sentence like butter on a warm toast, “‘lo, love.”

His presence startled me, I almost dropped the ukulele. It was way too early for him to be back home from his date. Part of me wanted to ask how it’d gone and in any other situation, I would’ve. Not tonight, though. Didn’t wanna know if she had kissed him good night. If he gave her his signature green-eyed glare when he wanted something… If he’d asked for another date. My heart wouldn’t be able to cope. 

“You scared me.” 

“I reckon you said I was fit like a daydream,” He stuffed his chest and I couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Are you actually quoting your ex-girlfriend?” Harry rolled his eyes, dismissing my comment completely, “Why are you home already?”

“D’ya want me to leave?”

“You are ridiculous,” I say as I stand up, the Fleetwood Mac tee I had on falling to my mid thighs. It was oversized because it didn’t belong to me,  which doesn’t go unnoticed by him, who has a cheeky grin directed at me. “Stop looking. You keep ditching them and I just happen to like these shirts.”

“I didn’t say anything, doll. But I was looking for that one, though I settled for that old pink striped sweater of yours.”

“So it’s with you?” My indignation seeps through, “I went nutty looking for that.”

“Looks better on me anyway.”

“Nonsense.”

The laughter shakes his whole body, yet again I am plowed with our childhood memories, that right there hadn’t changed. Harry still laughed like a little child, a boy with his blue truck toy. I felt warm inside, to watch him like that. To still have, after so long, a friend like he was to me.  

Harry goes quiet then, bright green staring right at me. I know what’s coming. It’s happened before - I sang about the boys I liked quite often, I suppose. So it was obvious he wanted to know who was stealing my attention this time. He wanted to know who I was singing about. 

“Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Wha’? I didn’t even open my mouth.” 

“I know you,” Back on my feet, I grab my plate with the remains of what was supposed to be my lunch and head out to the kitchen. He followed me around like a stray puppy. 

The kitchen is an enormous place. Wooden cupboards with just about every piece of china one could dream of, fine crystal glasses for wine and champagne, bowls, plates, even goblets could be found. Inside the several drawers, besides the silver cutlery, I had managed to fold some table sheets I bought at a flea market. Harry would lose his mind if he knew where they came from. On the left corner, a tall two-door grey fridge, with a shopping list on its door to remind me that I needed to go out tomorrow to get things. Next to the two basin sink, was an electric cooktop that had become my best friend, I loved to cook there, staring out the window - the yard was beautiful, green grass all year long, though during spring the most gorgeous flowers blossomed. I loved that place very much.

Right in the middle was an island, my lone cactus trying to make it a little less plain. Which wasn’t that hard, the dark marble surface glimmered under the led light.  

After I threw out the sandwich and put the plate on the sink, I started pacing around to gather things for dinner, fresh tomatoes to make the sauce with homegrown onions and garlic. I liked cultivating my food. I got flour, eggs, olive oil, and salt. It was all I needed to make the dough.  

I could still feel his eyes on me, as I moved effortlessly through his kitchen, collecting everything I needed. 

“What do you want?”

“You’re too stressed,” Harry says, standing up straight and standing next to me, “Is it about the boy you were singing about? Or girl. I dunno.”

“Seriously?” Can’t help but shake my head, “That’s your approach? ’M not telling you, H.”

“Oh, you’re keepin’ secrets from me. That’s new.”

He grabs the knife on my hand, starting to chop the onion into tiny cubes. Always skillful with his hands, he was.

“‘M not keeping secrets. It’s just none of your business.” 

“Ouch.” Harry pours the onion into the pan, stealing the tomatoes to start chopping them as well. I focused on the dough. “You’re so adamant about not telling me I’ll start thinking it’s me.” 

The entire world stills for me when he says that out loud, and I don’t know what to say, so I keep cracking the eggs, pouring them over the flour then adding, by eye, what I considered to be enough of olive oil. At last, I put two pinches of salt into the mix.  

My silence seems to annoy him further. 

“C’mon, it was a joke.” He tries, gently grabbing my arm and I see myself having to stop mixing, “I really want to know, though, have to make sure you’re with someone worthy of you.”

“Why?”

Couldn’t look him in the eye, I have them glued to the bowl with the sticky batter. The hand on my arm sneaks to my back, he’s warm and I tremble under his touch, my breath comes out a bit harsher. 

Harry takes a deep breath before answering, “I care about you, bunny.”

“Is that all it is?” Now I dare to look up, to find those emeralds. I liked quite a lot to look at them, they were akin to shiny jewelry and I was the dazzled child. Right now they showed nothing but a shade of confusion. 

“What else?”

A tightness in my chest grows, I know right away I am about to cry and I don’t want to. Don’t want to fall apart in front of him. In the middle of cooking. When things seemed to be going amazing for the two of us. Despite my most intimate wishes, I ended up doing just that, my dirty hands falling limp as he held me in his arms, asking over and over what had happened. 

His chin rests on the top of my head and I can hear his heartbeat, slow and steady. My bottom lip is quivering. I was so tired of being tough, I just wanted to be loved. To be loved by him. 

“I need to tell you something,” A sniff makes me sound whiny, “Promise me you won’t be mad.”

“Never,” Harry speaks so quietly I believe him. “Could never be mad at you, bunny.”

“Okay…” 

I bring his much bigger hands into my own. They warm up under his touch. If I’m being honest, I warm up completely. Body and soul. He gives a soft squeeze, urging me to speak. It’s needless to say that he’s anxious, always being the curious one between the two of us.

“The song… Well, um, I was singing for you.” It was as quiet as a whisper, “I like you.”

“Don’t be silly.” His face goes serious, “You’re not kidding me, are ya?”

“Do you think I would?”

There’s a lump at the bottom of my throat, tears still falling. I didn’t have a problem being vulnerable with him, or opening up - now I was embarrassed. I would apologise if I hadn’t felt his warm lips start kissing my salty-teared cheeks, only to finish up with a chaste kiss on my own. 

“What are you doing?” I pull back, shocked that he’d kissed me. “Do you...”

“I am so glad you’ve said first, fancying you for the longest time hasn’t been easy. But I suppose it gave me quite the inspiration.”

“You’ve written about me?”

“More times than I am proud to admit.”

This time it’s me who kisses him, standing on the tip of my toes, losing my fingers into the soft curls. It seemed very much unreal to me. He never struck me as the type to keep feelings in check or to himself. I should’ve seen something. Or maybe I did and didn’t want to face that the best person I could’ve fallen for was right in front of me. 

Then I think about her. The golden-haired beauty. She wouldn’t be too pleased.

“She’s just a friend, bunny.”

“Reading my thoughts now, Styles?”

“Nah, just know you too well.”

“Yeah, I guess you do.”

Harry lifts me, kissing me again. And I can’t help but feel whole. Like a bit of me that was missing had been set on its place. 

Bless the will to play a song. 

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

Dee Little Snake

Series Summary:  Janus uses age regression as a way to destress but has little control over it whenever he grows upset. Trying to keep a secret like that can be hard when you’re only four years old, and thus family bonding ensues in a way nobody expected, least of all Deceit.

Chapter 4: Safe at Night

Chapter summary: Patton can't sleep and Dee doesn't want to, so Logan offers a solution to fix at least one of their problems.

Warnings: mild angst, if there's more please let me know.

Taglist (ask to be added or removed): @a-different-s1de @emo--nightmare

General taglist (ask to be added or removed): @janus-is-an-adorable-snek-boi @logans-library @im-an-anxious-wreck

WC: 2,358

Pulling just so to settle his sweater sleeves in their usual knot against his collar bones, Patton shut his door quietly and continued down the hall. It was late, almost eleven at night, and Patton knew if anyone caught him awake at this hour they’d call him a hypocrite. He and Logan were constantly nagging the others to get to bed earlier- Patton admittedly less so just because he knew how easy it was to accidentally binge Parks and Rec into the wee hours of the morning. Shaking his head he decided it didn’t matter, as long as he was quiet no one would notice anyway.

He stopped outside Virgil’s room, the darkness beneath it not really telling him whether he was awake or not. Too often had he peeked in to check on him so find him sitting up with a blanket over his shoulders and his headphones on, scaring the daylights out of Patton the first few times seeing nothing but Virgil’s pale, spooked face streaked with leftover eyeshadow shining through the darkness. He hadn’t done it as much lately because of- well everything that was going on. He figured if he looked in and Virgil was asleep he wouldn’t want to ruin what little rest he got with how tense things had been.

With that depressing thought he turned to see Roman’s door a little ways down the hall. He hadn’t been coming out much lately, seeming to prefer the company of whatever magical entities he came up with in his world rather than what he could find in the common room. And that was...fine. It was completely fine, of course it was! They all needed a bit of a break every now and again and he couldn’t expect every member of his family to want to be around him all the time.

Except that it had been a few weeks since he had had his meltdown; a few weeks since he had gone back on everything he had ever known to be right and accepted De- Janus- into their lives completely and agreed to work with him rather than actively against him. And he knew- he knew how Roman must have taken it. How many times had he been confused about something but forged ahead anyway because everyone had seemed to need him to have the answers? He was the dad, of course he had answers! But then- those answers had changed as they had grown and earned experience and knowledge but was too stubborn to change along with it, so too then Roman had been. Roamn had had his world view flipped just as much as Patton had but Roman had trusted Patton’s insistence that he knew all the answers- and even when he began to admit he didn’t he remained resolute that there were things you just knew- and still Roman trusted that. Now that was wrong, so was Patton, and the one person Patton had always said did nothing but deceive he now knew was one to trust. But Roman was past trusting him, and after so many years Patton really couldn’t blame him.

He realized then how unsettling it would look for him to be simply standing in the middle of the hallway, motionless with a deep frown lining his face. Shaking off the melancholy he brought his hands to his face and rubbed up and down a bit more roughly than was necessary, standing his bangs on end but it fit the late hour so he supposed it didn’t matter. He glanced at Logan’s door but the more responsible side would most definitely be asleep by now so he didn’t even bother stopping, determined to make it to the kitchen to get a glass of water and maybe even cocoa before trying to turn in for the night. He could worry about his kiddos when he could string together more than two coherent thoughts that didn’t end with him feeling like he shouldn’t leave his bed for the next ten years at least.

He was going to walk past Janus’ room but paused and cocked his head to listen better. A faint tune could just barely be heard through the door though Patton couldn’t place what it could be. Was Janus playing music? Could he not sleep either? Maybe he’d be willing to join him in the kitchen for a late night snack if he wasn’t too tired; Patton could definitely use the company with the way his thoughts were straying tonight. Stepping closer so his feet were almost right up against the door jam he could see a very faint, warm light shining underneath, He leaned in and held his breath, straining to try and hear whatever it was that was playing. What he heard however only confused him further.

A child’s voice was singing a soft, wordless tune that didn’t seem to have any inspiration behind; just something simple seemingly to keep themselves occupied. Occasionally the tune would stop and they would mumble something he didn’t quite catch but then it would pick back up again just as quietly. Patton leaned away in confusion, sure that he recognized the voice but why-

Dee! Putting the pieces together only made him more confused. If Janus was regressed then why was he alone? And why was he still awake? From what he remembered Dee was only four so it was definitely way past his bedtime and more importantly he didn’t hear Virgil in with him, which definitely meant he was alone considering Virgil was constantly talking to Dee when they were together- much more than when Janus was out of little space but Patton suspected that was just something the’d eventually have to work out. Puffing his cheeks out he debated whether or not he should intrude. Dee was little, up late and alone but Patton had also only found out Janus regressed at all a few days ago and he honestly wouldn’t blame the kiddo if he didn’t fully trust him or want him around just yet, if he ever would at all. Virgil needed his rest, Roman was already mad at both him and Janus, Remus….well anyway- and he was ninety nine percent certain Logan would not be a side Dee would want to know about this.

The door cracked open before he could make up his mind, Dee’s fluffy curls making him smile even though he was internally panicking. Sure he was the more father oriented side but he didn’t know if he was actually good with kids last time he had just seen a crying child and wanted it to stop but this time he was the one almost in tears and he really didn’t want to cry in front of one of his kiddos when they were this small and-

A tiny hand slipping into his brought him out of his thought spiral and he found himself stumbling forward as Dee tugged insistently, leaving the door cracked behind them as he was led to a ring of stuffed animals surrounding a small electric candle. The smaller side let go and patted the space beside him as an offer to Patton, which he took somewhat nervously.

“I can’t do all the voices.” So saying he was handed a floppy stuffed elephant, the poor thing bending in the middle from lack of stuffing but certainly not from lack of hugs it had surely received. Dee picked up a stuffed tiger that was lying prone beside him, no doubt the one he had been playing with before he opened the door. It’s fur was a bit ratty and it was just as floppy as all of them seemed to be- in fact most of these seemed to be copies of Thomas’ old stuffed animals he had had growing up, finding a new purpose in his mind with his smallest side. Patton smiled at the thought of all their past friends finding new adventures with someone who clearly loved them just as much, running his thumbs over the elephants soft ears lovingly as he watched Dee get the tiger into position and begin moving it around in a strange sort of rhythm that looked like an odd sort of dance, picking up his previous humming with the most adorable look of concentration Patton had ever seen. The child looked up at him expectantly, making Patton realize he was probably meant to hum along to whatever performance the tiger was putting on for the rest of them.

Smiling softly he brought the elephant up and began making it dance, clearing his throat before humming quietly along with Dee. He really should be in bed but Patton was loath to ruin this moment. It was so peaceful- the electric candle flickered like a real flame and the lamp in the corner illuminated everything just enough to give the room a soft golden glow to it. The carpet was soft underneath him and the humming, nonsensical as it was, was soothing and just loud enough to remind him what he was doing. He wasn’t exactly sure what game they were playing but he didn;t mind not knowing the rules, happy to let Dee set the pace as he swayed from side to side with a small smile on his face. He wished so badly someone else was here to take a picture so he could keep this image in his head for the rest of his life, he didn’t remember Janus ever looking this content even when they were actually kids, and to see it now was as gut wrenching as it was heart melting.

“I don’t know what you’re listening to but if you could at least shut your door it would much apprecia-” Both of their heads snapped up, Dee immediately leaning back to hide most of his small frame behind Patton while said side clutched the elephant to his chest in panic. Logan stood still in the doorway, confusion clear on his face as he stepped in the room and shut the door behind him. “I didn’t mean to- I'm sorry, I can leave. I wasn’t aware-”

Dee poked his head out from behind Patton and waved, making Logan stop again mid-sentence to hesitantly wave back. Patton watched, still a bit tense, as Logan crouched down on the balls of his feet and smiled softly at the smaller side. “May I ask how old you are, Janus?”

“Dee!”

“I apologize, I’ll remember that from now on. May I ask how old you are, Dee?”

Patton smiled as Dee nodded vigorously, tiger still held tight to his chest as he held out four fingers. “I’m four!”

“A very good age to be, there are many milestones to achieve at four years old.”

“Milestones?”

“An action or event marking a significant change or stage in development.” Logan explained. “Most of those happen with a good night’s rest though. Why are you still awake?”

Dee looked down at the stuffed animals in front of his, rocking a little in place. “I wanted to play.”

“Activities like this are usually reserved for when it's daylight. Was there a reason you can’t play then?”

“Everyone else is awake.”

Patton set the elephant down gently. “You’re afraid someone will see you small if you play in the daytime huh?”

Logan pressed his lips together as Dee nodded, seeming to not want to elaborate. “Alright, that’s understandable. So Patton usually looks after you then?”

“No I just-”

“Vee! But he’s asleep.”

“Well, in the morning it might be a good idea then to talk to Virgil about how to better accommodate you during the day so that you can still play but not have to worry about anyone else walking in on. We might be able to square away a room for you or modify this one so that no one could enter without your permission, provided the door remains shut. How does that sound?”

“You could do that?” Dee’s eyes were enormous as he looked at Logan like he had just confirmed the moon was made of his favorite cheese.

Chuckling softly, the logical side adjusted his glasses. “Theoretically. But we need you well rested if we’re going to figure it out tomorrow.”

Patton smiled as Dee seemed to weigh his options, pouting slightly as he stood and made his way towards the bed. Turning off the candle and moving to set it on the night stand he reached for the blankets but stopped himself before he could do anything. “Do you want tucked in kiddo?”

Nodding shyly Dee laid back and clutched the tiger even tighter while wiggling into a comfortable position. Patton waited until he was done before grabbing up the thick comforter and carefully laying it over him, being sure to tuck it away from his face and loose enough that he could free his arms if he wanted. Smiling he squeezed Dee’s shoulder gently as his eyes drooped tiredly, moving towards the door that Logan was already easing open quietly.

“Goodnight, Dee.”

“Goodnight, Dee. Sleep well.”

“Goodnight. Love you.”

They both paused and looked back but the small side was already asleep, curled around his stuffed animal comfortably. Slipping out of the room Patton smiled at Logan’s small smile, which immediately turned questioning as Patton beamed back at him.

“What?”

“You like kids.”

Taken aback, Logan shook his head. “I just know some basic developmental needs and how to apply them. Liking has nothing to do with it.”

At Patton’s shit-eating grin, Logan rolled his eyes. “They’re pleasant enough to be around when they’re well-behaved.”

“So you-”

“Go to bed Patton.” Logan shook his head as he began to walk back to his room.

“I was gonna make cocoa before I saw Dee was awake. If you were having trouble sleeping I could make enough for both of us-” He let the offer hang as Logan stilled. He knew the other man secretly loved hot cocoa late at night for as much as he preached about proper sleeping schedules.

He smiled wider as Logan walked briskly past him down the stairs. “Just this once, to help us sleep.”

“Sure, Logan.”

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This work is also available on AO3!

If you liked this please consider reblogging. Reblogging helps share a creators work so others can see it too!

As far as this story goes, this is something I wrote as a one shot and didn't think people would be interested in but now I have seventeen chapters planned so thank you for the interest! Note that Roman and Janus will be on better terms at some point and also Remus also comes in later, and knowing that info if anyone has something they want to see happen (side hangouts, specific regression prompts anything like that), as long as it can be story relevant and it isn't plot heavy I'll happily add it!

I'll accept ideas up to Feb. 20 and you can comment them here, or send an ask, anon is always on! Thanks for reading ^-^

[quicksilversquared]

A Very Jagged Take-Down Ch 1: Dissonant Chord

Marinette knows Jagged Stone, everyone knows that. She's his favorite niece, never mind the fact that they aren't actually related. And Jagged Stone is really famous, the exact kind of person that Lila loves claiming connections to.

That was never going to end the way Lila wanted it to.

(a collection of one-shots)

links in the reblog

Jagged Stone could admit that sometimes, he was a little bit oblivious to how other people were feeling. He was a little too boisterous, too distractible, too caught up in his own thoughts and ideas and plans. It caused problems, sometimes- Jagged had butted heads with more record managers than he cared to think about because his artistic vision differed from theirs, and sometimes he didn't come off particularly well in interviews because he was too busy thinking about other things to notice an interviewer trying to ask a different question- but he was working on it, and if he was oblivious to something, well, he did have Penny to clue him in.

Still, Jagged Stone had been trying to improve. Penny had been pretty stressed out on several occasions recently, and he had wanted to ease some of her load by being at least a little more observant. He had thought that he was doing really well.

Considering that he had apparently missed his niece's upset mood during his last visit to commission a stage outfit from her, he apparently wasn't doing as well as he wanted to.

"What do you mean, she was off?" Jagged Stone implored Penny again. "Penny, if I'm going to learn..."

"She was hiding it pretty well, to be fair," Penny assured him. "Especially when you were looking. But when your back was turned, she looked kind of stressed."

Jagged Stone frowned. That wasn't a good thing! Maybe he could help, though. "Do you know what she was upset about?"

"Do I- no, Jagged, I cannot figure out what people are upset about by looking at their body language!" Penny exclaimed, clearly exasperated. "And I didn't want to pry, not when she was trying to be professional with coming up with ideas for your commission."

Jagged Stone considered that. Then he perked up. "Do you think that you, just maybe, could sneakily bring it up with Marinette when you go over with my measurements tomorrow? If I can help my niece with anything, I want to!"

"Yes, yes, I can try," Penny promised, and then she sighed, rolling her eyes. "And we've talked about this, Jagged Stone. Marinette is not your niece."

"Who says that she isn't?" Jagged Stone demanded, planting his fists on his hips. "My niece in rock-n-roll! Her CD cover and glasses and the songs they inspired put me back at the top of the charts. I am an artist, she's an artist- family in actually kickass artistry!"

He didn't understand why Penny was rolling her eyes. Really.

  Penny returned the next day with several design sketches and barely hidden anger bubbling away under her professional demeanor. Jagged Stone picked up on it right away, ushering Penny into their room at the Grand Paris and getting her settled with a platter of her favorite chocolates.

He was rather proud of himself for that, really. He was learning! He hadn't missed Penny's stress!

"I found out what happened," Penny told him, inhaling a chocolate in one bite. She chewed angrily, then swallowed. "A week before we went over for brainstorming, Marinette got expelled from her school after getting framed for cheating, thief, and hurting another student. The other student walked back on her claims the next day," Penny added hastily before Jagged Stone could grab his guitar and storm over to Dupont to bash their blundering principal over the head. He hadn't been impressed by the man the one time- or was it two times, he really couldn't remember- that they had met, and clearly there was a reason for that. "And her expulsion was retracted. But she's still facing some skepticism from her teachers and classmates over the whole thing."

"Who would want to frame Marinette?" Jagged Stone demanded, thoroughly baffled. "Marinette is fantastic! They'd have to be a cruel, heartless soul to do such a thing."

"Yeah, well, that's kind of what this girl sounds like, honestly." Penny took another angry bite. "Marinette was telling me all about her. It's the daughter of a diplomat- or that's what she claims, at least- who keeps making up all of these stories about things she's done and people she's met. Marinette is one of the only people who doesn't believe a word she says, and the only one willing to call Lila out."

Jagged Stone nodded in approval. "Calling out bullies and liars is very rock and roll!"

"Less so when it gets her framed and expelled, but yes." Penny flopped back in her chair, then perked back up. "Something Marinette said- well, it sounded almost as though the liar girl was claiming connections to you. She stopped herself before I could get much more out of her, though."

He nearly exploded with indignation at that. "The liar girl is trying to use me to boost her status? How dare she! And going after my niece while she does-"

Penny sighed in exasperation. "No matter how often you say it, Marinette isn't actually your niece-"

"I'm going to put a stop to this nonsense," Jagged Stone announced, surging to his feet as a surge of energy hit him. Maybe he wasn't going to be in Paris for the next couple of weeks because he was on tour, but, well, that just gave him time to plan. "No liar will use my name to hurt Marinette! Now, if I can grab my computer-"

"We're meant to be heading to the train station to go to London in twenty minutes," Penny reminded him. "For a meeting in London with the new record company you were considering switching to."

"Of course! Penny, I would be lost without you." Jagged beamed at her, then dashed across the room. "I can bring my computer on the train! Plenty of time to think there, no problem. We have a private compartment, so I won't even be interrupted!"

Behind him, Penny could only sigh.

  It wasn't hard to find more information on the liar in Marinette's class. All it had taken was going to Marinette's social media, going to her Ladyblogger friend's page, and from there finding Alya's personal blog.

He felt a bit strange flipping through a teen girl's personal blog and it certainly wasn't something he would ever do normally, but Jagged Stone was on a mission and Alya's blog was a veritable treasure mine. Not even three minutes after he first found the blog, Jagged Stone had learned who the liar girl in question was and had found several of the claims that she had made, all so absolutely outrageous that Jagged Stone had to wonder how anyone believed them in the first place.

But outrageous or not, they had also given him an idea.

Lila had claimed that she had saved his cat, and that he had written a song for her in thanks. Now, he definitely wasn't going to be thanking her for anything, but he could certainly write a song about her.

It wasn't going to be flattering, and it wasn't going to call Lila out by name- Penny had helpfully informed him that doing so would probably land him in legal trouble, even before he had been able to voice the idea (which was super rock-n-roll, actually, that they were so much on the same wavelength!)- but the details that he was going to refer to, courtesy of the blog, would mean that anyone familiar with Lila would know exactly who he was referring to.

Jagged Stone already had some lyrics scribbled out on a sheet of paper and a couple bars of music to go with it, and it was going to be a banging song. Like, top-of-the-charts, definitely-on-the-radio, impossible-to-miss banging.

"The main problem I'm foreseeing here is that it takes time to release a song," Penny reminded Jagged as she bundled him and Fang into a town car and then got in herself. "You need at least seven songs usually in an album, and then there's the studio time, you know that, and-"

"So it'll get released as a single for now," Jagged Stone told her, because obviously he wasn't going to leave Marinette hanging for longer than he had to. What kind of uncle would he be if he did that? "Singles take less time! I can probably have a demo by the end of the week, and then if we can get a recording studio in any of the cities that we actually spend some time in, then I can get the tracks recorded and all ready for mixing and- oh!" Jagged froze, struck by the most perfect idea. "If we can get Marinette to do the cover art for the single, that would be perfect! Then she gets her bully taken down and some money besides- yes, I'll tell her about it right away and work around her schedule, Penny, I already know that- and I get some more awesome art!"

Penny rubbed her forehead, right between her eyebrows, but didn't protest further. "All right. But you know that if you want a cover that'll go along with the single, Marinette needs some direction. I just don't know how you'll keep it all a surprise."

"She can get the background demo tracks and a prompt list of words," Jagged Stone told her at once, because he had already considered that. He had been working on getting better at not leaving all of the thinking and planning up to Penny, too, even if she hadn't quite gotten used to that yet. "That will help her come up with a cover. And look, I've already started!"

"I...see that."

By the time they had boarded the train and were halfway to London, Jagged had gotten the main part of the song written down. The lyrics just needed tweaking, the drums could probably be shaken up, and he wanted to add a few more backing tracks and play with some effects, but he had been inspired and it showed.

"I'll check it against your other songs after the meeting and make sure that you're not accidentally borrowing from an old song," Penny told him as he enthusiastically tapped his pen against the seat of his chair, trying out different drum beats with the tune. "And then I suppose we can start work on demo tracks, if you're so determined to get this out fast."

Jagged Stone grinned. "That sounds perfect."

  In what was surely Jagged Stone's fastest turnaround time ever, he was ready. The song was written, the demo tracks had been polished up into the final tracks and had been professionally recorded and mixed, Marinette had gotten the single's art done (and it was amazing, of course, somehow absolutely perfectly fitting the song even though Marinette hadn't heard the lyrics yet), and everything was ready, all within a month's time.

(His new record company was none too thrilled that he hadn't given them time to promote it, but, well, he was big enough to drop a new single out of nowhere and have it succeed, so did it really matter?)

And then it dropped Monday morning. By mid-morning Paris time, it had exploded all over the radio and thousands of people had bought it already. His new record label was applauding it as a huge success, all of their complaints about the lack of promotion forgotten, critics were already praising both the song and the cover art-

-and Jagged Stone didn't care. He was more focused on if the song had done its work and had gotten rid of Marinette's liar problem.

"You are not allowed to call her up and beg to know what's going on," Penny instructed him sternly. "Marinette is in class right now, and you know that she'll reach out and keep you updated when she can. Now either sit down and stop pacing, or go give Fang a bath. Heaven knows that that will keep you busy."

"Oh, I suppose." Fang deserved a bath after putting up with their most recent bout of traveling, after all. Travel grime was ugh, even on a crocodile. "But let me know as soon as Marinette texts! I won't be able to check my phone, since my hands will be all wet, but I wanna know!"

"I promise. Now go, shoo- you're distracting me!"

Jagged shooed.

  Marinette had been a bit distracted all morning, and for once, it wasn't because of Adrien or her Guardian duties.

Ever since Jagged Stone had told her that he was going to be dropping a new single soon and asked her to do the art, Marinette had been looking forward to the song coming out. She didn't know what the song was about, exactly- Jagged Stone was being strangely cagey about getting any more specific about the lyrics- but he had sent along a basic demo track along with a few prompt words for her illustration and it sounded amazing. She could only imagine how awesome the final version- properly mixed, with all of the instruments ironed out and vocals and everything- would sound.

(And now it had some pretty awesome art to go along with it, if Marinette said so herself- dark, seething greens in the background stood in stark contrast to the trails of shimmery gold dust in the forefront. It was more abstract than some of her other covers, but Jagged Stone had proclaimed it the coolest thing ever and tossed her a bonus on top of the already-generous commission price, which was amazing.)

And then, right before lunch, Nino gave a shout of surprise.

"Jagged Stone just dropped a single!" Nino announced, waving his phone at everyone. "I didn't even know that he was thinking about releasing anything! Lila, did he tell you?"

"Well, yes, but he asked that I keep it secret," Lila said at once, pressing a hand to her chest. It was a common look on her, faux-humble in a sickly sweet way that made Marinette want to gag. "I even got to listen to it before it got released, and it's fantastic."

"This art is sick!" Nino exclaimed. Marinette peered over his shoulder, and- yup, Nino was already in the process of buying it. "'Not All That Glitters is Gold- man, I gotta get a poster of this art, I bet that the non-digital version actually does glitter!"

Marinette hid her smile. It did, actually.

"Yes, they're a fantastic artist, aren't they?" Lila bragged. "They're a very private person, but I introduced them to Jagged Stone- I thought that he might want a professional artist for this song."

All eyes shot to Marinette, waiting with bated breath to see her reaction. After a second, Lila gasped dramatically, hands flying to her mouth. "Oh! Not- not that there was anything wrong with the album cover you did, Marinette, just that-"

"It's funny that you say all of that," Marinette said, her voice icy-cold. "Because I did the cover art for Jagged's new song, and I have the art- with all of the layers, in case you want to claim that I just downloaded it- plus the in-progress demos that I sent to Jagged Stone, plus the invoice for that commission to prove it."

The class went silent.

"And you didn't introduce me to Jagged Stone, he reached out to me," Marinette added on. "And I have the emails for that, too. So you can cut it out with the lies now."

"Oh, silly me, I must have gotten the single mixed up with Jagged's next full album," Lila tittered hastily. "The professional that I recommended to him must be doing the full album, and I just misunderstood."

Marinette was pleased to see that this time, not everyone looked entirely convinced.

"Ms. Bustier, can we please listen to Jagged Stone's new song?" Nino asked as their teacher entered the classroom, shoving his hair up into the air. "Please? Marinette did the art, and Lila's already heard it because she's friends with Jagged!"

"Well, I suppose you can put it on while I get the lesson set up and collect the homework," Ms. Bustier said with a laugh. "That's so exciting, you two! Nino, you know how to connect to the room's speakers so that we can all hear it? At a reasonable volume," she added hastily as Nino got up. "If we get any more noise complaints, then we won't be allowed to have any music on for events for the rest of the school year."

"Got it, Ms. Bustier!"

"I can't believe that you got to do another cover for Jagged Stone!" Alya said excitedly as Nino hooked up his phone. "And you didn't say anything!"

"Of course not. Some of my commissions are secret-"

Marinette was cut off by the oh-so-familiar opening chords of Jagged's newest song, and she trailed off. The accompanying horns were new, and definitely attention-catching and fantastic. Marinette's breath caught in her throat, already blown away.

And then the lyrics started.

At first, Marinette didn't really hear anything out of place. Then she caught a mention of kittens on a runway and sat up straight. All around her, murmurs gave away that other people had heard the same thing and everybody sat up and listened as the song swung around into the chorus.

'Not all that glitters is gold! Hiding behind lies that were told

A dollar-store gem trying to pass herself off as a diamond!

Claims of connections abound, but none of her stories are sound

A liar, through and through!

Adrien spun around in his seat to look back at Marinette, just as Marinette realized what Jagged Stone had done and clapped her hands over her mouth in silent glee. He quirked an eyebrow at her, mouthing a silent did you ask him to do this? and Marinette shook her head.

No, she hadn't asked. She had mentioned Lila to Penny, though, after Penny had asked about why Marinette had been so down. Her parents had probably said more, if she was really being honest, and Penny had no doubt told Jagged Stone, who then came to the very logical and oh-so-Jagged conclusion that the best way to deal with the problem was by writing a call-out song. A call-out song that, by the sounds of it, included references to more than a few of Lila's lies, not just her ones concerning Jagged Stone, so there was no way to mistake who the song was referring to.

She definitely hadn't mentioned all of those to Penny.

In the back, Lila had gone white. More than a few classmates had turned around, sending her disgusted looks. Alya had frozen in her seat before whipping around, murder in her gaze. Even Ms. Bustier was looking incredibly suspicious as she made the connection between the lyrics and all of the stories that Lila had told over the months.

Lila's reign of lies had come to a very abrupt end, heralded by the sound of horns.

"You didn't even know that he was going to do that, did you?" Adrien asked her as soon as the song came to an end. "You looked so surprised!"

"He didn't let me hear the lyrics at all!" Marinette exclaimed, and wow, now she knew why. She was honestly starting to feel teary, because Jagged Stone had written this song for her, because she had been upset after Lila's expulsion attempt, and she knew just how much work went into making a song, and it- this was incredible. "Or really anything beyond vague prompt words. I knew that he knew about Lila, because Penny asked why I was feeling down and I told her, but this..."

Marinette would have assumed that just bursting into class would be more Jagged's style, over-the-top and impulsive and immediate, but maybe he had just been too inspired by the topic and the idea of a song to think of that. And whether or not that was the intention, the song was so catchy, so bound to be popular, there was no way that Lila would be able to escape it. She would be hearing it on the car radio, playing in the train station and on the bus and in the mall. If Lila was on her own, she could leave, or turn it off. But if she was with classmates, or her mom- assuming that her mom didn't actually know what Lila had been up to all this time- then Lila would have to sit and stew.

...maaaybe that wasn't a great thing if she was going to be staying in Paris, but with any luck, it would drive Lila so mad that she would leave.

"That's one heck of a call-out by Jagged!" Kim cackled loudly, breaking through the muted muttering. "Wow, how ticked off did you have to make him for him to go out of his way to write and produce a song calling you out?"

"No, it's not what it looks like- I swear, he's just, uh..." Lila was floundering. There really was no easy way to get out of this, but clearly she was going to try anyway. "You know not all song lyrics are literal! I did save his cat, and he did write a song for me, it's just that-"

"What's the name of the so-called song Jagged Stone wrote for you called, then?" Nino asked sarcastically. "'Clinging to the coattails of fame without any dignity'?"

Marinette choked on a laugh before hastily trying to hide it. Across the aisle, Chloe was far less subtle as she cackled in delight, clearly thrilled by Lila's messy downfall.

Marinette wasn't surprised. Chloe was far less impressed by connections and tall tales than a lot of their peers, but she was absolutely the sort of person to be bitter about how much attention Lila had been getting. It meant less attention on Chloe, and that just couldn't stand.

"Okay, class, please settle down!" Ms. Bustier implored. She was glancing around the classroom, clearly trying to figure out a path forward. "Ah, Lila, let's step out to talk to the principal and call your mom."

"No, but a song from a rock star is hardly considered any sort of reliable source, surely!" Lila cried, still not willing to give up and come quietly. "He's met thousands of people, why would everybody assume that he's talking about a real person? That he's talking about me?"

"Lila. Now."

Finally looking properly wilted, Lila gathered up all of her things in a rush, stuffing them roughly in her bag before heading out the door in front of Ms. Bustier. All around Marinette, whispers started up, some people comparing notes on stories Lila had told and finally (FINALLY) looking them up, others looking up the lyrics to the song. Marinette ignored them all, fumbling for her phone and pulling up Jagged Stone's contact number.

Seriously, how was she supposed to thank him? He had gone to so much work, gone so far out of his way, just for her. Because it was for her, Marinette knew that. Jagged Stone had plenty of over-eager fans that sometimes went overboard with things, and of course there were tabloids that loved to make up stories about him. Jagged Stone ignored all of them the best he could- well, until they got too intrusive, at least, like that one photographer- instead of slapping back. There was no reason for him to go out of his way just for Lila, when she looked at it that way. Lila and her lies wouldn't even appear on Jagged Stone's radar, if it weren't for Marinette. But that hadn't made a difference to Jagged.

Seriously. Best. Uncle. Ever.

(Well. Best not-technically-an-uncle ever. After all, Penny always insisted that Jagged Stone couldn't just adopt Marinette as his niece, no matter how much he wanted to.)

With shaky fingers and happy tears blurring her vision, Marinette texted a quick thank-you to Jagged, hoping that he could feel all of her gratitude through the few simple words that she managed to pull together. Without the constant threats from Lila hanging over her head- either because Lila would be gone or because she would be so thoroughly discredited by everyone that she would be powerless- and without having to constantly be at odds with most of her friends about Lila and her lies, Marinette's days at school would be much more enjoyable and relaxed.

  Penny glanced at Jagged Stone's phone for the fifty-seventh time in an hour and a half. His phone kept lighting up with all sorts of messages- from his new producers, from celebrity and non-celebrity friends alike, from his family members- and she had kept checking it, noting messages that needed to be responded to as she did.

It was exhausting, especially since Penny had her own correspondence to attend to- questions about integrating the new song into set lists, requests for interviews about the new song, and an ongoing back-and-forth with Jagged Stone's lawyer to make sure that he wasn't going to get in legal trouble for the song (since no names were mentioned, he was in the clear as long as he didn't call out Lila during any interviews, but she just wanted to be prepared). Frankly, Penny was tempted to put Jagged's phone on mute and just ignore it for a bit before checking to see if Marinette had reached out. After all, she would be in school right now, so the likelihood of Marinette and her classmates being able to listen to the song before lunch was, well, rather low-

Message from: Marinette Dupain-Cheng

-but Penny supposed that it wasn't entirely impossible.

"Message from Marinette!" Penny called out, and there was a yelp and a clatter as Jagged Stone dropped the broom he was using to scrub Fang to dash out to the main room and snatch up his phone. He grinned at the message, whooping in triumph.

"They listened to it in class and all of her classmates figured it out right away!" Jagged announced. "And the liar girl got carted off to the principal's office and her mother is being called, so she's dealt with. Score!"

"Yes, good job," Penny told him, resigned to hearing about it for the next month, at least. Jagged Stone was going to be too caught up in the euphoria of his success to be much use, so she would have to deal with all of the setting up appointments. "Your idea worked, Marinette's bully has been dealt with. Can you relax now?"

Jagged didn't seem to hear her. "You know what, I'm going to call up room service and we can all have a feast to celebrate! And- oh, I should text Marinette back, 'cause I wanna get any more updates! I just want to make sure that the little eel doesn't manage to slither out of punishment again. I doubt even she can get out of it now, but I gotta follow through!"

Penny could only sigh as Jagged Stone bounced away across the room. As he went, Penny could hear him singing under his breath.

Tea with a prince, talking about charity

She's too kind, too good to be

Working to save the world, she always tries

Except everything she says are self-serving lies!

Not all that glitters is gold! Hiding behind lies that were told

A dollar-store gem trying to pass herself off as a diamond-!

[alliswell21]

Sister Wives

For @promptsinpanem

Summary: In a post war Panem, the male denizens of the districts sacrificed their life to free their people from the corruption of the Capitol, endangering the population of the country. The Sister Wife Initiative was put in place to encourage the procreation of a new generation. But no system is without flaw.

Author’s Note: Hello y'all... I know the deal was to finish a WiP in two weeks in honor of Kika, but I just wasn’t able to do it, even working on this when I was supposed to be sleeping... anyway, here are the first 1000 or so words of Chapter 2 of Sister Wives. I was only able to do minimal editing on this puppy, but I will post the finished fic by the end of October... It's almost complete, and ready for editing!!!

Thank you @promptsinpanem for hosting this “In Memorian” round. Authoreskika will certainly be missed.

KPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPK

After the reception, Peeta brings me to my new home, the place Glimmer, him and I, will share, now that I’ve married him. He smiles nervously for a moment, “Welcome home!” He says, holding my hand just outside the front steps. “Thanks,” I whisper. My heart is hammering furiously against my ribs. He harrumphs, “May I?” He asks, bowing slight. I’m confused at first, but the then he’s scooping me up and carrying me across the threshold, like I weight nothing, and for one awful second I’m afraid his bad leg will give out and we’ll both fall on our faces, or something equally terrible. My fears are unfounded. Peeta’s so strong and steady, built like a boulder. He cradles me to his chest, so close, I can feel his heart beating erratically under my body. I’m almost afraid of looking into his face… what if I see some emotion there I can’t reciprocate? “Welcome to your new home, Katniss. I vow to work tirelessly to make this a loving place for you, warm and safe.” Peeta says, placing me back on my feet. “I’d carry you deeper into the house, but… my leg…” he gestures downward, embarrassedly. “Don't apologize. Please! I never expected to be walked inside in such a gentle way anyway. Thank you.” I tell him bashfully. Peeta’s leg got mangled by a rabid dog— a Capitol muttation— originally aimed at his brother, Bannock’s face, during a Capitol’s cowardly ambush on sleeping rebels out in a strip of no-man’s land. Peeta never talks about it, about his time in the rebel army— neither do his brothers, like they want to keep the horrors of those days in the very far recess of their minds; but the story of how Peeta’s leg got turned to shreds by the hungry, wet maw of a dog-like beast, and he still managed to save a fifth of his squadron, was well documented by the rebel army, and highly publicized in anti Capitol propos. Rye told a boy once some details were exaggerated, while others got tune down, to make the story more appealing, but he wouldn’t go into further detail. What’s clear is that Peeta sensed danger and tried to rouse his brother and some nearby soldiers. He insisted something felt wrong, and they should secure a perimeter around their camp, but Peeta was the youngest in the company, two weeks shy of 15 at the time, and the other men ignored him and went back to sleep. Peeta couldn’t. Less than an hour later, a dozen mutts surrounded the camp, and the only reason they didn’t massacre the whole lot of them, was because of Peeta’s vigil. Many lives were lost that night. Rebels fought the hoard of mutts valiantly to their bitter end, but only so many of them managed to survive the attack and get away from there. Bannock was fighting a mutt off one of his buddies, when a second beast snuck up on him. Peeta shoved his brother out of the way just in time, at the cost of his leg. When the war ended, the Mellark brothers came home War Heroes, but all the pomp and circumstance faded, as the reconstruction efforts intensified around the country. I think the boys like it better that way anyway. “Peeta, darling, you’re finally home!” I'm rudely brought back to reality by Glimmer’s simpering tone, “Look at you! You’re limping!” She chides like a mother hen over her chicks. “Come, I’ll prepare you a bath in my rooms, so you can rest—“ “That’s not the custom!” I blurt out, surprising myself. “As his new bride, it is my responsibility and honor to make his bath and get him comfortable.” Nevermind I haven’t the faintest idea of how to do any of that! “Nonsense! Peeta’s tired and weary from the party. It dragged on too long without any consideration to his poor leg!” “The party was the perfect length, Glimmer.” Peeta says calmly, “Thank you, but Katniss is right, I’ll spend the next three nights with my new wife, as is my right.” “But, she knows nothing on how to take care of a prosthetic leg!” “I’ll learn!” I counter. Glimmer is right, of course, but I’m a fast learner, and it just rubs me the wrong way she’s rying to stake a claim that isn’t hers to claim.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CXXVI (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: Super busy week we having but I hope you’re having fun -Danny

Words: 2,969

Series’ Masterlist

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Chapter Twenty-Four: Test of Patience.

"These are old, but we can fix them," Sirius handed a pair of Regulus' old robes to Erick. "Try them on, see if they fit you..."

Mel had mentioned during breakfast that Erick had decided to go back to Hogwarts, which pleased Emily a great deal. Sirius tried to hide his disappointment, yet another friend he couldn't keep around the house, but as soon as he heard Erick quietly mention he still needed to get robes since he couldn't borrow one from a bunch of Gryffindors, Sirius' spirits lifted, he dragged Erick out of the room and into his brother's.

The robes were a bit musty but they would do for a week at least, the twins joked about stealing a few from the school's laundry, but Erick blatantly refused to accept stolen items. Mrs Weasley promised she would send him the books as soon as she were at the burrow and Hermione had a few extra supplies for him to take back to school. 

It was clear that everyone in the house had adopted Erick and even though he wasn't entirely happy about it (He was having a hard time accepting that he needed their help) he did show lots of gratitude towards everyone.

As they were saying their goodbyes before leaving (they were going to take the Knightbus), she found a moment to talk to Sirius, but he was adamant to let her speak, knowing beforehand what she wanted to say.

"You go and have fun, alright?" Sirius told her. "Don't worry about us, I promise I'll take care of your mother–"

"Will you take care of yourself too?"

"Don't look at me like that, little Em," He said grimly. "Don't give me those eyes, you know I wouldn't put the Order's plans at risk..."

"You're building a family, you're doing something important," Mel held his arm tightly. "I'll never get tired of thanking you for giving my mum a second chance. Don't forget that."

"It was Mily who gave me a chance that I definitely didn't deserve," Sirius tried to joke, but his eyes were lacking their usual playfulness.

"Are you ready to leave?" Lupin patted her shoulder. 

"Please take care," Mel insisted, this time looking at both men, "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You make it sound like we're the children here," Lupin laughed. "We know what we're doing."

"I'm just making sure!"

"Alright, time to cut the nonsense," Sirius shook his head. "If I hear you're wasting your time at school worrying about us I'll send you a howler— and look after Erick... he's good."

"I know," Her eyes wandered to the boy currently smothered with attention by Emily. "I won't let him do anything stupid."

Mel hopped on the bus with the rest of her friends after receiving her own hurried kisses and hugs, she felt slightly anxious about leaving them behind. Sirius was an adult, but it didn't mean he was wise, and her mother was unable to leave the house completely.

Being excited about a baby now felt ridiculous, in the middle of everything that was happening? Sirius Black's kid? How was her mother going to explain this to the world, if she wasn't supposed to have any kind of contact with a criminal? Mel had to trust they would find a way to make it work.

Erick's books arrived the morning after they got to the castle. Some people commented on the way his robes were old-looking, but Erick wore them with his head held high and no one dared to confront him about it.

On Monday people kept asking about the D.A. meetings, but Mel and Harry brushed them off saying they would use the galleons once the time came. Smith made a pretty nasty comment when he found out Harry was going to 'Remedial Potions', which was the way he had to refer to his Occlumency lessons.

Seconds after Smith had left, Cho Chang approached, it was the first time seeing each other ever since their kiss, and judging by Harry's attitude, he was fully aware of that.

"Oh. Hi."

"We'll be in the library, Harry," Hermione grabbed Ron by the arm and took him away.

"I, er... Fred, " Mel rushed back to the stairs. "See you!"

"So," Fred told her one night during dinner. "Next Hogsmeade visit... I just want to know what's the plan, are we going out or..?"

The girl shrugged. "I don't see the point, we're not a real couple..."

"I guess not," He replied. "We should still go, otherwise boys will assume we're no longer together—"

"I don't really care," Mel yawned. "They can ask, but I'm not obliged to explain myself."

"Would you go if I asked you though?"

Mel snorted. "Are you going to?"

"Don't laugh, you heartless witch!" Fred threw a bean at her, but he was laughing too. "I heard Chang and Harry are going together."

"Are they?" Mel looked over to the Ravenclaw table. "That's why she cornered the idiot... wait, how do you know that?"

"News travel fast," Fred winked at her. "Are we going, then? Are we making a scene?"

"Not the one you want for sure," She raised a brow. "But it could be enjoyable... never had a real date before..."

"This is not a real date—"

"I know that, but at least others think it is," Mel paused. "Wow, that sounded really sad. I don't know... I don't need to prove a point anymore..."

"Well, that's even better! The real fun can begin!" Fred finished his dinner and stood up.

"What's that— Wait! Where are you going?" Mel stood up. "What's that supposed to mean?!"

Some students gave her a few curious looks, Angelina walked up to her.

"Practice tomorrow at seven. Don't be late."

"Practice..? Oh!" She'd forgotten all about Quidditch. "Sure. Hey, guess which broom I got—"

"A firebolt," Angelina smirked. "George told me yesterday. That's great, it means we still have a chance."

"News do travel fast around here," Mel pouted. "Okay then, I'll see you tomorrow."

The girl hissed in pain, dropping her quill over her finished essay. 

"What's wrong?" Ron frowned. 

She closed her eyes for a moment and saw a flash of something, Harry's voice came from the back of her mind.

"What's in the Department of Mysteries?" 

Hermione and Ron stared at her. 

"It's Harry, isn't it?" Ron whispered. "That's so strange!"

Mel blinked, rubbing her forehead. 

"He's having a hard time with the lessons... maybe I should help..."

"Yeah, you should," Ron agreed. "Snape's an awful teacher— Why is he teaching Harry when Dumbledore's teaching you?"

"Maybe he doesn't want to catch Umbridge's attention," Mel shrugged, "I mean, students are used to see me in and out of the Headmaster's office, but if Harry starts to go as well Umbridge will try to see what's going on— And he's busy either way, he barely has time to teach me..."

"Are you in pain?" Hermione asked. "Maybe we should leave the library... if you start to scream—"

"No one's going to scream," Mel said defensively. "It caught me off guard! I can do this..."

She closed her eyes again, but this time she didn't try to see Harry, the girl held onto the edge of the table, breathing in and out the smell of old books and parchment, when she opened her eyes the pain was gone.

"It's over?"

"Yep," Mel smiled, continuing with her homework. 

Maybe it was that she'd talked things out with Harry and she could fully focus on the present, but she didn't have such a hard time trying to tune him out now.

"So rare..." Ron muttered in awe.

"What did you say before?" Hermione tilted her head. "About a department of mysteries?"

"Oh, did I say that out loud?" Mel frowned. "It wasn't me, Harry was talking about it with Snape, but I have no idea what that—"

"That's in the Ministry!" said Ron. "Maybe they're talking about his dreams!"

"Hmm..." Hermione said, lowering her gaze to the parchment. "It does sound like it has to do with his dreams... we'll ask him later."

When Harry found them, he was looking slightly pale.

"Are you all right, Harry?"

"Yeah... fine... I dunno— Listen... I've just realized something..."

He explained further what Mel had seen, it was part of the nightmares he'd been having for months now, and he finally knew where that place was.

"So... so, are you saying... that the weapon — the thing You-Know-Who's after — is in the Ministry of Magic?"

"In the Department of Mysteries, it's got to be. I saw that door when your dad took me down to the courtrooms for my hearing and it's definitely the same one he was guarding when the snake bit him."

"Of course," Hermione said.

"Of course what?" Ron frowned.

"Ron, think about it... Sturgis Podmore was trying to get through a door at the Ministry of Magic... It must have been that one, it's too much of a coincidence!"

"How come Sturgis was trying to break in when he's on our side?" said Ron.

"Well, I don't know," Hermione admitted. "That is a bit odd..."

"He could've been framed," Mel offered. "Maybe someone tricked him."

"So what's in the Department of Mysteries?" Harry asked. "Has your dad ever mentioned anything about it?"

"Well, that's where the Unspeakables work, you know, Mel's dream job," said Ron deep in thought. "No one really seems to know what they do in there... Weird place to have a weapon..."

"Oh, right!" Mel hit her forehead softly. "I think Mr Weasley told me about it last year!"

"It makes perfect sense," said Hermione. "It will be something top secret that the Ministry has been developing, I expect... Harry, are you sure you're all right?"

"Yeah... fine..." He was rubbing his forehead roughly. "I just feel a bit... I don't like Occlumency much..."

"I expect anyone would feel shaky if they'd had their mind attacked over and over again," said Hermione. 

"How come you're not exhausted when you practice with Dumbledore?" Harry asked her.

"We don't spend the whole hour attacking each others' minds, sometimes I just meditate, I shut down my emotions so he can't see through me, and then I try to see through him... it's not so bad, perhaps because he's patient with me. Snape's probably not doing that..."

"And how come you're not feeling my headache?"

"Oh, she felt it!" Ron said excitedly. "But she... uh— grounded?"

"That's right," Mel said proudly. "Told you I could control it, I just had to find my way around it!"

Harry nodded, looking slightly perplexed. 

"Good..."

"Let's get back to the common room, we'll be a bit more comfortable there..." Hermione insisted.

"Headless Hats!" shouted George, as Fred waved a pointed hat decorated with a fluffy pink feather at the watching students. "Two Galleons each — watch Fred, now!"

Fred swept the hat onto his head, beaming. For a second he merely looked rather stupid, then both hat and head vanished.

Mel was laughing along with the rest of her housemates, she was giving out hats while Lee Jordan was receiving the money. She watched Harry walked away from the fuss in annoyed silence and Fred nudged her arm.

"What's wrong with him?"

"He had his first lesson with Snape," Mel explained. "Poor bloke, he's having the worst—"

Mel inhaled sharply and dropped the hat she was holding, she felt as if something had hit the top of her head.

"What is it?" Fred eyed her up anxiously, quickly holding her in place. 

"Call Ron," She closed her eyes tightly and tried to ground herself for the second time that day.

Ron had gone upstairs right after Harry, and once her vision cleared, she pushed Fred aside.

"I have to go..."

When she got to the door, she heard Ron desperately calling for their friend.

"Harry! HARRY!"

Harry was maniacally laughing on the floor. Ron was staring at him with wide eyes.

"Harry!" Mel called, but he didn't listen. In a desperate attempt to bring him back, she slapped him, the burning sensation on her own cheek quickly faded. Harry's voice died instantly.

"What happened?" Ron asked hoarsely.

"I... dunno..." Harry blinked, he sat up with difficulty, panting. "He's really happy... really happy..."

"You-Know-Who is?" 

"Something good's happened... Something he's been hoping for."

"Hermione told me to come and check on you," said Ron as he helped him to his feet. "Mel walked in right after me, 'Mione says your defenses will be low at the moment, after Snape's been fiddling around with your mind... Still, I suppose it'll help in the long run, won't it?"

Mel and Harry shared a look.

"Listen, I know I said I would mind my own business, but—"

"I could use some help," He admitted, his eyes never leaving hers. "I'd appreciate it if you could..."

"I can," She replied. 

‘MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN MINISTRY FEARS BLACK IS "RALLYING POINT" FOR OLD DEATH EATERS

The Ministry of Magic announced late last night that there has been a mass breakout from Azkaban.’

"There you are, Harry. That's why he was happy last night..." Ron muttered.

"I don't believe this... Fudge is blaming the breakout on Sirius?"

"What other options does he have? He can hardly say, 'Sorry everyone, Dumbledore warned me this might happen, the Azkaban guards have joined Lord Voldemort' — stop whimpering, Ron — 'and now Voldemort's worst supporters have broken out too.' I mean, he's spent a good six months telling everyone you and the Dumbledores are liars, hasn't he?" 

"What an idiot," Mel sighed. "This is bad. This is worse than bad... Poor Neville..."

She looked around the table, the boy didn't look sad that morning, and it occurred to her that maybe not all the students read the newspaper every morning, but some definitely did, she confirmed as much when the watch in her pocket warmed up, letting her know Erick had arranged a meeting.

"Oh my —" Hermione gasped.

"What now?" Harry groaned.

"It's... horrible," said Hermione.

Mel took the newspaper and the boys leaned closer to read along.

 ‘TRAGIC DEMISE OF

 MINISTRY OF MAGIC WORKER

St. Mungo's Hospital promised a full inquiry last night after Ministry of Magic worker Broderick Bode, 49, was discovered dead in his bed, strangled by a potted-plant...’

"Bode..." said Ron. "Bode. It rings a bell..."

"We saw him. In St. Mungo's, remember? He was in the bed opposite Lockhart's, just lying there, staring at the ceiling. And we saw the Devil's Snare arrive. She — the Healer — said it was a Christmas present..."

"How come we didn't recognize Devil's Snare..? We've seen it before... we could've stopped this from happening..."

"Who expects Devil's Snare to turn up in a hospital disguised as a potted plant?" said Ron defensively. "It's not our fault, whoever sent it to the bloke is to blame! They must be a real prat, why didn't they check what they were buying?" 

"Besides we were focused on Neville's parents," Mel lamented. "We didn't notice anything else... But I doubt that was an accident."

"I don't think anyone could put Devil's Snare in a pot and not realize it tries to kill whoever touches it?" Hermione agreed. "This — this was murder... A clever murder, as well... If the plant was sent anonymously, how's anyone ever going to find out who did it?" 

"I met Bode!" Harry said after a moment. "I saw him at the Ministry with your dad..."

"I've heard Dad talk about him at home!" Ron gaped. "He was an Unspeakable — he worked in the Department of Mysteries!"

"Holy fuck," Mel breathed, leaning back on her seat and pushing the hair out of her face. "This is terrible."

"Where are you going?" Ron inquired as Hermione leapt to her feet.

"To send a letter— It... well, I don't know whether... but it's worth trying... and I'm the only one who can..." She left without ending her sentence.

"I hate it when she does that," Ron rolled his eyes. 

"Yeah, it's a bit exasperating, but we'll find out eventually," Mel said gloomily as they got up and made their way out of the Great Hall.

"Would it kill her to tell us what she's up to for once? It'd take her about ten more seconds — hey, Hagrid!" 

"All righ', you three?" 

"Blimey, Hagrid, have you been fighting with Dragons?" Ron elbowed her ribs harshly to shut her up.

"Are you okay, Hagrid?" asked Harry.

"Fine, fine," said Hagrid nervously. "Jus' busy, yeh know, usual stuff— lessons ter prepare — couple o' salamanders got scale rot — an' I'm on probation..." 

"You're on probation?" Ron yelled in outrage, it was Mel's turn to nudge his ribs. "Oof! Sorry — I mean — you're on probation?" He asked again, lower this time.

"Yeah. 'S'no more'n I expected, ter tell yeh the truth. Yeh migh' not've picked up on it, bu' that inspection didn' go too well, yeh know... anyway... Bes' go an rub a bit more chili powder on them salamanders or their tails'll be hangin' off 'em next. See yeh..."

"Probation," Mel said through gritted teeth. "I'll give her probation..."

When she arrived at the library (alone, because Hermione was busy with homework as well as Ron and Harry) she noticed Erick standing next to their usual table.

"You read the Prophet?" Mel asked him. "I can't believe it! And Hagrid's on probation now, I swear things can't get any messier..."

"They can," Erick grimaced. 

Mel noticed someone was sitting behind him. Her eyes widened at the sight and she stumbled back, stopping when her back hit a chair. Daphne Greengrass stood up giving her a very grave look.

"Evening, Miss Dumbledore."

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world​ @just-here-to-escape-from-reality​ @21bruhs @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @dielgonacoffee​

[lilsherlockian1975]

The Nose Knows

A little soulmates AU, mostly fluff. Here’s part one. This is NOT beta’d, sorry for any mistakes. Huge thanks to @mel-loves-all for helping out with editing the images since I’m an ignorant goose penis when it comes to all that business. Blame me for the quality of the pics... it’s what I picked out for her. ~LiL~

-o-o-o-o-

He catches it on a breeze. It hits him like a physical blow and he instantly knows what he’s smelling, if not... who.

He and his cousin Daven are sitting on one of the few available benches on the Quad. Addam, his best friend since childhood, is talking about some girl he’d met at a sorority mixer the night before but as soon as the scent drifts his way, Jaime pretty much tunes out the sordid tale of sloppy, near-anonymous sex. It’s a gorgeous Spring day, not a cloud in the sky and no hint of rain for the first time in at least two weeks. This fact alone has driven most of the student population out of doors, making it almost impossible for him to quickly assign the scent to its owner.

Jaime is instantly ill at ease, which is unfortunate as moments ago he’d felt entirely in his element. He and his twin sister had celebrated their twenty-second name day the weekend before and prior to the scent, he’d been feeling at the very top of his game. Now he’s... confused and excited and anxious all at once.

Less than two months and he will be finished with this gods’ forsaken town and its massive university. He’s already been accepted at Crakehall School of Art & Design for his post-grad, which is, incidentally, where he originally had planned to study. His father’d had different ideas, forcing Jaime into the business programme at KLU. Thankfully, he had managed to slip a minor in Architecture into his degree by selling Tywin a load of shit about wanting to ‘propel Castlery Corp. into the modern era’. The minor had added a full year to Jaime’s studies and without a major in his chosen field, he will have to take supplementary classes at CSAD but he’s certain it will be worth it in the end.

None of that matters now. Tywin Lannister had died of a massive stroke seven months ago. Jaime supposes he should feel worse about that; should feel some kind of loss or sadness, and maybe he does, though not for the reasons most sons would for the death of a parent. But the old man was never a real father. He’d been indifferent toward Tyrion, dismissive toward Cersei - though he could occasionally be somewhat warmer to his only female child - and constantly demanding that Jaime ‘live up to the Lannister name’. Jaime can feel sympathy for their mother, of course, she did love the old bastard, but neither he nor his sister are overly damaged by the old man’s death. Oddly enough, their father’s death seems to be affecting his little brother the most.

The scent assails him again and this time he stands, walking towards it, leaving Addam sputtering objections and calling him names. Jaime doesn’t care. The only thing he cares about is the originator of that smell.

He passes small groups of fellow students, all equally excited about the respite from the spring rains. The Quad is packed, of course, so it’s no easy task. Not to mention that he probably looks like some kind of weirdo, walking around, nose first and… sniffing. But he’s being driven by something entirely out of his control. 

Though he’s never really given much thought to the idea of soulmates, he knows they exist - his Uncle Gerion and Aunt Briony are soulmates, for instance, but it’s rarely talked about within the family, almost as if it is some dirty secret. Actually, for some unknown reason, talking about soulmates seems to be taboo in ‘polite society’. Uncle Gerion - his favourite uncle -  however, is quite outspoken against Lannister Family tradition and societal norms. The phenomenon, as far as he knows, is very rare these days and Jaime has never once even considered the possibility for himself. 

Now… Now there's no doubt. He can smell her - them? - whoever! Jaime’s never been attracted to men, but somehow he knows that if the gods have seen it fit to match him with a man… so be it! 

Shaking himself, he chuckles as he moves to another group of students. It won’t be a man, he thinks. Surely the gods would have given him some kind of inclination towards his own sex if… Suddenly, he’s engulfed with the scent. They’re close, they must be!  He turns, following his nose like a damn toucan. 

The crowd thins a bit; it’s the top of the hour and people are rushing off to class. Jaime’s eyes and, yes, his nose, zero in on his target. Shit! It is a dude! He’s taller than Jaime by maybe an inch or so with short, straw-like blond hair, broad shoulders and… He’s just about to resign himself to a future that he’d never even considered (okay, so he’s maybe had the odd thought here and there about other guys - everyone has, right?! Right?) when they turn around and…  

“You’re a girl,” he says without thinking. 

She (oh, thank the gods she’s a she!) narrows her eyes, straightens her spine and glares. “Yes, I am. And you’re not very original, I’m afraid,” she says coldly before stalking past him. 

What?! No! She’s… she’s supposed to know. She’s supposed to smell him too. What in the seven hells is going on?! “Wait!” Jaime calls out but she doesn’t stop. He can’t give up, he just can’t. Sprinting to catch up, he reaches out for her, wanting to stop her, to talk to her. He doesn’t make it that far, though. Just before he touches her arm, she jerks back - maybe she saw him in her peripheral vision, maybe it’s some strange side effect of their connection, he doesn’t know - but when he sees the look in her unbelievably blue eyes, he’s the one flinching away. 

“I don’t know who you think you are,” she practically growls, “but you can’t just go around insulting people, chasing after them then touching them as if it’s your right!”

“But it is,” he replies lamely because... how doesn’t she know?

Her responding laugh is mocking and he can’t deny that it hurts him in a way he never imagined being hurt. Shaking her head, she sneers as she looks him up and down. “Guys like you are all the same…”

There are no guys like me, he thinks but luckily, this time he holds his tongue.

“I know I’m an easy target - hard to miss, low hanging fruit and whatnot - I’m just not in the mood for this nonsense today.”

Jaime knows he should give up, regroup and try again later, but patience has never been his strong suit. “I wasn’t… It wasn’t an insult. I was…” ‘Surprised’ sounds insulting and really, how does she still not know? His mind scrambles for a word to properly describe his condition. Finally, he settles on, “Confused?” though it unintentionally comes out as a question.

This seems to only further enrage the girl. She takes a step back, draws a deep breath and, once again, shakes her head. “Find someone else to help you figure out your sexuality!”

Okay, there’s a story there, Jaime’s sure of it but he doesn’t have time to ask. “No-no, you’re misunderstanding me. I know I’m not gay.” Although the fact that he considered it for thirty seconds or so is something he’ll deal with later! “I’m saying that…”

“I really don’t care what you’re saying.” Again, her eyes travel over him and Jaime has never felt so judged in his entire life. “It’s nothing new, it’s nothing I’ve not heard before. Do you really think you’re the first prick to want to screw with me? I’m guessing it’s another bet. Who put you up to this? Red? Bushy? If it was Hyle, I swear to the Seven...”

“None of them! I don’t even know who you’re talking about!” When he thinks about her words, an intense feeling of protectiveness overcomes him. “What bet? What did they do?” 

Her pale, freckle-covered cheeks turn an interesting shade of pink as she hitches her messenger bag higher on her shoulder before crossing her arms over her chest. “Nothing. Never mind. Just… Just leave me alone. Please.” The last word comes out softly, pleadingly and it just about breaks Jaime’s heart. Turning, she starts to go.

“I’m not a creep!” he calls out, managing to stop her escape. Looking around, he notices that, miraculously, the Quad has pretty much cleared out. If their fellow students hadn’t been in such a rush to return to class he and the angry girl would have surely drawn a crowd. He takes a deep breath and tries to calm himself before continuing, “And I’m not a prick. I am sort of an arsehole, but not - I think, not like those guys you mentioned. Whatever they did... hurt you enough to make you make that face…”

She whips around. “What about my face?” 

With a sigh, he says, “It looks sad. Too sad. It’s not supposed to.” And what does that even mean? he wonders as the words leave his mouth.

She’s surprised for a split second, then all emotion seems to drain from her features. “I don’t know why you’re doing this but please just… leave me alone.”

So he does. For now.

-o-o-o-o-

There is a very good reason that Brienne doesn’t know ‘who’ Jaime is. This is just the first part, I’m working on the next bit. Please let me know what you think. Thanks ~Lil~

[jising-jisang-jisung]

P.JS - Royal!au

Genre: royal!au, servant!jisung princess!reader ft. prince!jaemin, angst

Word count: 3.1k (dont know how I did that)

a/n: okay so this is my first time trying out a royal!au so I hope it's okay 😅 ngl I kinda like it so I might write more royal!dream... also sorry this is angst i just couldnt make it fluffy without being overly cliche and gross

A soft tap on your door steals your attention away from the seams on your bedsheets. “Miss y/n?” your servant’s voice calls.

“Come in,” you reply, maintaining all formalities through the barrier of the door, knowing that your guard is there, and will report any nonsense to your father, the king.

Your door creaks open as Jisung walks in, holding a giant tray in his hands.

“Sungie!” you call as soon as the door is closed. “Did you do it like I told you to?” you question eagerly.

“Well of course, y/n/n.”

“Yes! There’s enough for us to share!” you cheer, looking at the food your servant, who doubles as your best friend, had brought you. “Open,” you instruct him. He does as you command, opening his mouth for you to feed him the peach slice tangling from your fork. “Is it good?” you bite your lip, salivating over the fresh fruit.

Jisung nods excitedly, taking a seat next to you. “Your turn,” he nearly spits since he barely even chewed his piece before speaking. He holds out a slice for you to eat, but as you are about to snatch it, he pulls back to eat it himself.

“Hey,” you playfully smack his arm. He gives you a bashful smile before holding out another slice, and letting you eat it this time. 

“Miss y/n?” and a knock on your door results in Jisung jumping off of his perch on your bed and you grabbing the food to move to your table.

“Come in,” you call after the two of you look like a normal Princess and servant and not a couple of goofy friends.

Another servant boy, Chenle, walks into your room. “Your father wishes to see you. He has urgent news,” he tells you bowing as he moves to exit.

“Wait! Do you happen to know what it might be about?”

The boy grins at you. He was also one of your good friends since you were all about the same age and had grown up in the castle together, but unlike Jisung, Chenle wasn’t your servant. Fortunately, however, since he was able to spend his time all around the castle, he was able to get the gossip on everything. 

“Well,” he starts. Jisung and you move back to your previous seats now that the coast is clear. “From what I heard, there is another King and Queen visiting. And, if rumors are true, they have a son.” At first you’re very confused. What would another monarch have concerned with you? “But you should really leave now, he specifically said it was urgent, your highness.”

You walk quickly through the halls, enjoying the sound of your shoes hitting the tiles. You would rather run, to make up for the lost time talking with Chenle, but you aren’t supposed to, as a princess and all, it is considered unmannerly.

As you walk into the main hall, you see both of your parents as well as the familiar looking King and Queen of a nearby kingdom. And of course you couldn’t miss the boy standing next to them. While you had never met the prince before, you were certainly taken aback by his looks.

“y/n, it appears you have a suitor,” your father announces, looking proudly at the handsome boy.

“y/n, nice to meet you,” he bows. “My name is Jaemin.”

“The pleasure is mine, Jaemin,” you repeat his name, doing a curtsy of your own.

“Why don’t the two of you take a walk through the gardens as we talk?” your mother suggests. You nod and lead the way out to the back of the castle to the large garden. It was late enough that all the other workers would be done with work, leaving just you and the prince.

The two of you talk about more shallow things, getting to know about favorite colors, animals, or other useless information. You laugh along at his jokes, and find yourself swooning over his charming personality and even more charming smile.

“y/n,” his voice changes, indicating a more serious discussion. “I know you might not want to marry me. You don’t love me, well, you barely even know me. But please take some time to consider my proposal as I’ll be visiting for the rest of the week. While this marriage might be more about our parents bringing together our kingdoms, we can learn to love each other and live happy lives.”

You nod along, staying quiet to allow the boy to finish his speech. “Of course, I will consider it, Prince Jaemin,” you offer a smile to show sincerity. “It appears to be getting late. I wish you a good night,” you say before speeding off towards your bedroom.

Little did you know, your friend was watching you from the window of his quarters. Unable to hear the conversations, he watches as you laughed with the handsome prince, wishing that it was him you looked at like that.

In your room, you lied down on your bed, the springs squeaking with your sudden plunge. You were overwhelmed with odd feelings of guilt in your head, but also in your heart. For some reason you couldn’t figure out why you felt that way. There was nothing wrong with marrying Prince Jaemin; it’s what your father would want. It didn’t bother you that the marriage was political and not for love, that wasn’t the issue.

“Miss y/n,” Jisung’s voice hums outside your door.

“Come in,” you instruct.

The boy slides through your door and there it is. That’s where your feelings are coming from. It’s not that you don’t love Prince Jaemin; it’s that you do love Jisung. He seems to not notice your crisis as he continues on as usual. Well, not quite usual, as he seems more quiet and down at the moment.

“So, how’d it go?” he looks up at you. You immediately look away, your emotions for the boy suddenly making you shy.

“Well,” you tell him, afraid to admit how you really feel.

“That is… good,” he falters, hoping you didn’t catch the way he paused.

“Yes.” It is as though you two are the strangers here, as neither one of you are able to articulate yourselves. 

“Well,” Jisung clears his throat. “Is there anything I can do for you before you sleep?” He asks, following his duties as your personal servant. You wish he was asking as a friend instead. Even if he is your best friend, you know he only asks because it is his job.

“Yes, actually,” you nod. “Can you sing for me?” It was something Jisung hadn’t done in years. When you were kids, he’d sing as you fell asleep, or if you were frightened by a storm or just loud noises in the castle. Unconsciously, you smile as you reminisce on the old times. When was it that you fell in love with the servant boy? You aren’t exactly sure, but at least you know now.

“Yes, of course,” Jisung breaks you out of your thoughts with his voice.

“Wait,” you interrupt him before he can even begin. “Let me put on my pajamas first, so you can sing me to sleep like old times, okay?”

“Of course, y/n/n, I’ll just be outside your door while you change.”

Only a few moments later you okay his return, being that you changed as quickly as you could, not wanting to wait another minute to hear Jisung’s voice. You hoped it was as melodious as it was before puberty when his voice literally dropped like 10 octaves.

He walks in as you settle back under your covers. Sitting at the edge of your bed he asks you, "what would you like me to sing for you?"

"Do you remember the song from when we were kids?" He nods in response, beginning the familiar tune. You're not sure how, but his voice sounds even better now than it did back then. It almost makes you wonder why he's a servant boy instead of a performer. You close your eyes as he continues to sing softly, not quite asleep but also not quite awake. 

"Sweet dreams, princess," he whispers at the end of the song. He brings his hand up to brush a few stray strands of hair out of your face when you flutter your eyes open. "Ahhh, you're not asleep?!" He jumps in surprise, retracting his hand from you. But you were quicker than he, holding onto his wrist and placing his delicate touch back to your cheek.

"Sungie?"

"Yes, y/n/n."

"Do you think I should just marry Prince Jaemin?"

"I don't think I can answer that for you, y/n."

"Ji, I don't care if you're a servant or a prince. You're my best friend, and your opinion matters to me. I'm just worried," you whisper, trying your best to blink away the wetness in your eyes that threatens to overflow. "What if I make the wrong choice?" His heart nearly breaks seeing you so worried.

"I don't think there is a wrong choice. Just do what you think is right. You know, in your heart or whatever," he laughs at the mention of the cliche phrase.

"I don't think I can do that," you admit, offering no further explanation.

"What do you mean?"

"Because of who I am. Because the king is my father. I don't think I can do what my heart wants," a tear spills from the outer corner of your eye, but before it can make its path Jisung has already wiped it away with his finger.

"You should worry about this another time," he decides. "For now, you should get some sleep."

"Sungie?"

"Yes, y/n/n?"

"Will you stay, please?"

"Okay, but you have to promise to actually fall asleep this time," he warns you with a false, stern tone. You giggle at his antics but it dies down as he starts the song again and you drift into a far away dream.

The following morning your servant goes to wake you up as usual. He knocks on your door, waiting for the okay to enter. When it doesn't come, he cracks the door slightly to peer in. He spots you on your bed, snoring, still asleep in your dreamland.

"Y/n," he calls softly, not wanting to startle you. At no avail, he decides to enter in. Placing a hand to your shoulder, he shakes you as gently as possible. Unfortunately, you react by jolting awake and grabbing his arm violently, causing Jisung to fall on top of you.

"Princess, are you okay?" He asks loudly as the two of you look at each other with wide eyes and shocked expressions.

"Yes, yes," you catch your breath, suddenly aware of the close proximity of the boy on top of you, as well as the appearance of how this situation presents itself to any bystanders. Jisung picks up on this and quickly gets off of you while not letting go of your hold on him. "You just surprised me is all."

"You didn't have a bad dream, did you?"

"No, not at all," you grin, thinking back to your dream of running away with the boy you loved and being able to live a simple, happy life.

"You know, you should go to sleep earlier so this doesn't happen," he scolds you in a joking manner, interrupting your thoughts and bringing you back to reality. "Regardless, breakfast is ready, and do remember that we have guests, including your suitor."

You thank him as you make yourself presentable for the visiting family and prepare yourself for the war you're about to dive into with your parents.

"Mother," you speak after everyone had finished their meal. "May I discuss something with you?"

You excuse yourselves and head to an empty hall to talk.

"Mother,  I do not wish to marry Prince Jaemin," you tell her.

"Why? He is a perfectly good young man and if you turn him away, there might not be another suitor of his worth!"

"Because I do not love him," you try to explain but she cuts you off.

"Y/n, you need to think about this more seriously. This will affect everyone, so you must be wise about it."

"Mother, I love Jisung, I wish to marry him," you admit.

She gasps at your nonsensical confession. "The servant boy? Are you trying to ruin the kingdom?" She holds the bridge of her nose in frustration. "No more talk about this right now. We'll discuss this later, but please reconsider your affection for the prince."

She storms away, absolutely appalled by your suggestion. You run the other way, toward your bedroom. You don't care about the possibility of getting scolded for running as tears quickly make their way down your cheeks. Even after you've closed the door, they refuse to let up. 

As you sob into your pillow, there's a familiar tap at your door. "Miss y/n?" Jisung asks.

"Go away," you cry.

"Princess, are you alright?" You hate that you make him sound so worried. You hate that you're in love with a boy that you cannot be with.

"Go away," you repeat yourself, hearing his footsteps become more distant as you begin to despise the sound of the shoes hitting the tile floors.

You pull a pillow over your face and continue your outburst. It feels as though your tears will go on forever in endless sorrow. Until another knock sounds outside your door.

"Princess, I brought you some tea," you hear your best friend's muffled voice call out.

"Jisung please, just go-"

Blatantly ignoring your orders, he waltzes right into your room, stopping you mid sentence. 

"Y/n, what happened?" That disgusted feeling of hatred returns as you hear the worry dripping from his voice.

You open your mouth to explain, but only loud sobs escape your lips. Jisung instantly puts down the tray of tea and wraps you in a hug. "I don't want to marry the prince."

"Well if that's what you-"

"I want to marry you!" You cut him off, but refuse to let him go. You're afraid that if you release your hold on him, he'll reject you or leave. 

"But, princess," he starts. There it is, the coldness of your unfortunate situation. Reality hits you in the side of the head like a stone. You're a princess and he's a servant.

Tightening your grip on his sleeves, you admit your feelings for him. "I don't love Prince Jaemin. Jisung, I love you."

"I- I love you too, y/n," he whispers, rubbing his hands soothingly down your back as you slowly stop crying.

You finally pull away, looking at him through- now dry- puffy, red eyes. Jisung grabs either side of your face and slowly leans in, giving you enough time to recoil in favor of not doing what you're about to do. Much to his liking, you meet him halfway, pressing a long kiss to his lips. You allow yourself to revel in the bliss that is your lips on Jisung's, before you have to pull away to catch your breath.

"Let's just run away," you say, impulsively. 

"Okay," he exhales, not a care in the world for anything but you. "I'll meet you here at midnight, yeah?"

You nod. "I'll be waiting," you mumble against his lips as the two of you dive back into one another.

The rest of the day passes slowly. Jaemin continues his attempt to court you as your mother watches over you like a hawk. Her judgmental eyes follow your every move closely.

Finally, the day is closing and the servants return to their quarters to rest. The castle falls asleep, all except for you as you wait impatiently for the boy you love to come. You check the time to see midnight has long passed and begin to fret. Had Jisung fallen asleep. Had he left without you? You push that thought out of your mind, Jisung wouldn't do that. But a worse idea creeps into your brain. Had Jisung gotten caught?

You stare at your ceiling, wanting to cry. But you feel as though you've had enough crying these past few days and settle on slowly worrying yourself to sleep.

The seemingly regular knock on your door wakes you up in the morning. You desperately wait to hear Jisung's voice call your name from behind the door, to let you know that breakfast is ready, and that he is okay.

"Y/n," the voice calls. Your heart drops as the door opens, revealing the queen.

"Where's Jisung?" You ask as your heart races with stress.

She sighs, closing her eyes to emphasize her distaste with your behavior. "He's gone."

"What do you mean 'he's gone?'" With each passing second you can feel your heart break more and more.

"We wouldn't want him to interfere with your affections for Prince Jaemin," she begins to explain.

"Where is he?" You ask through gritted teeth. Your overwhelmed with anger towards your mother as she carelessly avoids your question.

"Your father and I have decided that you will be marrying the prince," she informs you, not an ounce of remorse in her tone. "And breakfast is ready, so hurry up. The prince is waiting."

As underground as you can be, you ask everyone about your missing servant. Even your go to gossip boy, Chenle, hasn't heard or seen from him all day. As far as the castle is concerned, he no longer exists.

For the rest of the day, you put on a happy mask, not letting anyone see you falter as the preparations for your engagement ceremony begin. Your false exterior only falls once you're alone, behind the closed door of your room. It is then that you realize you cannot blame anyone else.

This was your fault.

If only you hadn't devised that stupid plan. Jisung would still be here and maybe you could have convinced him to bring your favorite servant along. But, even then, you're not his, you're Jaemin's. But maybe the prince was right. Maybe you can learn to love him. But somewhere deep down you know that's not true. You already gave your heart along with your first kiss to your best friend, the servant boy.

[eirian-houpe]

The Library Beneath the Clock Tower - Chapter 48

Read more on AO3

Chapter 48 - You Started All This...

Belle was determined not to allow recent events to make a recluse of her. Storybrooke was her home and she would treat it that way, and the first order of business was to make sure that she had more time to spend not only being a part of it, but being out and about in it. She checked and double checked the library’s operating budget and as she had hoped there would be, there was sufficient to be able to employ a part time library assistant.

As much as she loved the library, it felt good not to be locked away every waking hour, and so she adopted a ritual of sorts, a routine for her days off, and her afternoons. After briefing Ashley, she would take a walk. Sometimes she would walk in the park, sometimes along one of the trails in the woods surrounding Storybrooke, and once a week she would take the longer walk out to The Bend.

She didn’t expect to see any further communication from Hunter, and in that regard was not disappointed, but it made her sad that The Tree at the Bend was no longer randomly festooned with books or notes, or little gifts.

She sighed as she turned and walked a little way down the track toward where she knew there was a hidden sheep farm, and where, in the spring, she had found a whole carpet of flowers, but where now the ground was bare and the leaves on the trees were beginning to turn toward shades of yellows and browns that spoke of the change in the season. It was also where Gold had interrupted her from making a huge mistake, she reminded herself.

She let out another sigh then. What was she to do about Mister Gold?

Ever since the evening when she had gone to the cannery to thank Hunter for the books; ever since the pawn shop owner had acted as though they were more to each other than they were, with his earnest touches, his penetrating gaze, and his outright refusal to help Hunter in any way, she had been avoiding the man at best, and pointedly ignoring him at worst.  Yet whenever they had cause to speak, to interact, even to be in Granny’s diner at the same time, at opposite ends of the room, her heart still skipped, her stomach still flipped and her eyes sought him out in his immaculate suits and quickened her already unsteady breathing. She shook her head at herself. She was behaving like a schoolgirl with a crush, but… no. It was different than that, reminding her of the nonsensical exchange in his shop on that evening in question.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “but… do I know you?”

“No. But you will,” he said quietly.

Oh, she knew there had been words in between, the usual sarcasm on Gold’s part, but those had seemed to fade to insignificance in the mystery, the promise in Gold’s answer to her confused question.

She could not explain it, and it did her no good now to stand around and try to make sense of something that had none. With a final sigh, she drew herself up straight and set her steps back toward Storybrooke.

She became so lost in her thoughts that, as she approached the library, she almost walk into the object of her thoughts, and not only that, but the small crowd of people that were with and behind him.

“Mister Gold,” she said in surprise, blinking to ensure that she was not dreaming.

“Miss Marchland,” he greeted her with almost a smile on his face. “We were hoping to find you.”

“Me?” she asked, and looking around at the faces in the small crowd, added, “We…?”

She saw Leroy and his friends, David, Marco, Archie, and Maggie, among the many other faces she recognized. Even Jefferson was with them, although he hung back a little from the crowd.

“Yes,” Gold confirmed, “since you have been instrumental in this initiative, I’m sure that you might like to see it through?”

“See it…” she frowned, “I’m sorry, I think I’m missing something.”

“The Graces,” Leroy said, and held up the tools he carried in his hands. “Plenty to keep us all busy, Sister.”

Belle looked from one to the next of all the people gathered there in the street, her eyes falling last on Gold, who gave her the barest hint of a smile, but whose eyes were full of an almost mischievous sparkle.

“Care to join us, Miss Marchland?” he said.

She smiled broadly, and it took all of her willpower not to turn and link her arm with Mister Gold’s, she was so genuinely happy that at last the town of Storybrooke was coming to the aid of one of their own; one that had somehow slipped through the net.

“I’d be delighted,” she answered instead.

The walk to Paige and Chloe’s house wasn’t too far from the center of town and by the time the crowd of people arrived, the sound of their coming had arrived before them, and Paige was standing in the yard, arms crossed and with a frown on her face. When she saw Belle, however, the frown disappeared, and she rushed to embrace her, looking up at Mister Gold as she pulled back, but did not leave Belle’s arms.

“You brought all these people to help?” she asked, a look of wonder on her face.

“Indeed, Miss Grace,” Gold answered softly. “We want to set everything to rights now, don’t we?”

Belle wondered at the slight stress on the word ‘everything’ and felt the now familiar tingle of not quite knowing everything that was going on in Storybrooke, but… what was she missing? She had no more time to think about it however, because Paige tugged on her hand.

“Mama will be so happy to know you’re all here,” she said, mostly to Belle, but including Mister Gold as well.

“We’ll have the work done in no time!” Leroy answered, and then to his friends said, “C’mon boys, lets have no more lallygagging,” and to a man, every one of them moved forward, as if they already knew exactly what they were going to do.

Belle followed Paige inside after excusing herself from Gold and the others, and was happy to see that Chloe was up and, while not quite ‘about’ was in the sitting room and not the bedroom.

“I’m glad to see you’re feeling stronger,” she said, and Chloe reached to take her hand.

“Thanks to you, Belle,” she said, then added, “and Mister Gold, of course.”

“I had no idea,” Belle said, shaking her head.

“Oh, yes,” Chloe said. “Came to visit, and asked for a list of all the things that needed to be repaired around the house. I thought at first…” she stopped, then started again, “Well, he has a reputation, you know, for… deals and making demands of people.”

“But he didn’t?”

“Not a bit of it,” Chloe confirmed, “said that it was his pleasure to arrange it all, and then took the list, even added some things I hadn’t even thought of.”

“Oh?”

Chloe nodded, “Said that since we needed new stairs anyway, he’d be sure to have one of those lift things installed too, so that we can use the upstairs again.”

She seemed so excited, and so positive that it brought tears to Belle’s eyes. Perhaps this would help her to turn a corner, at least mentally, if not physically.

“Well,” Belle squeezed her hand. “I should go and see how I can help. Perhaps the windows, because they’re not going to clean themselves.” Then she jumped, as a sound of breaking glass sounded loudly from the back of the house. “Or… not.”

Chloe chuckled, and Belle couldn’t have been happier to hear the sound.

After sharing tea with Chloe, Belle returned to the yard in search of Mister Gold. She found him around the side of the house, supervising a small group of children who were planting flowers and low growing foliage in the newly dug beds. Paige was among them, and they were all working together to make the yard look more like a garden than an abandoned dumping ground.

She stood at the corner of the house, just watching.  He was in his shirt sleeves, which were rolled to the elbow, crouching from time to time to help one of the younger children succeed in their effort to settle the plants into the ground.  He was so patient with them and so gentle. So unlike the reputation he had with the adults in Storybrooke, and as such she had never seen this side of him before, the paternal side. Hard on the heels of that realization came the thought that he must have made a wonderful father, and with it came a lurch as her heart and stomach switched places.

“You can talk to him, you know?” The voice at her side startled her, and she looked down to see Paige staring up at her with a knowing twinkle in her young eyes. “I know you like him.”

“Paige!” Belle yelped, and then composing herself said, “How I feel about Mister Gold doesn’t matter just now. What matters is all of this.” She gestured around herself. “You’ll finally have a house where you can be safe and warm, and comfortable no matter where you are in it.”

“And I’m happy for that,” Paige said, “But I want you to be happy as well. This is happening because of you.”

“Oh, Paige,” Belle answered, gently cupping the girl’s cheek in the palm of her hand. “I am happy.”

“But you’re lonely,” Paige said. “I can tell, and so is Mister Gold.” Belle blinked at Paige then, at the far too grown up insights the child had into adult emotions simply from looking at them. “I know people say bad things about him all the time, but he can’t be all that horrible, can he, if he arranged all this?”

Belle sighed. “No,” she said, “No, I supposed you’re right, but—”

Paige shook her head, cutting off her words. “No buts,” she said, “One time I overheard someone saying that you can’t judge a person until you truly know them…”

Belle took a sharp breath as Paige spoke the words, and looking over at Gold again, she felt a strong but gentle heat begin to settle into the very depth of her, as if the words meant something, her thoughts and the feelings tuning out Paige’s rambling about traditions and bonfires. It was still not quite right, the phrase, but it was familiar enough to be like a welcome ache.

Gold glanced over at her then, and offered up a warm and gentle, genuine smile. Belle felt herself blush, and looked away, out over the top of the newly erected picket fence. She saw Jefferson then, once more apart from the group, like a visitor who had overstayed his welcome.

He caught her gaze, a knowing expression on his face, and tipped an imaginary hat.

[2ugars]

ੈ♡˳ death by ramen , lty

pairing: best friend!taeyong who’s tired of bratty!fem reader

genre: fluff.    that’s it.

words: 2.1k

a / n : cross-posted as a haikyuu au fic on ao3, linked here. it’s my account, don’t worry. i’ve just revamped this version (though not by much) to most appropriately fit to taeyong’s character more.

also, happy late birthday to our leader!!! :D

---

“[Name], this entire visit just confirms how utterly hopeless you are when it comes to making decisions,” the boy mutters under his breath, his eyes briefly closing as he sighs in exasperation.

You’ve been standing in the seventh aisle selling ramen for what seemed like hours and Taeyong is rather close to throwing you over his shoulder and walking straight out of the grocery store (whether it be with or without food, he doesn’t exactly care anymore, he just wants this to be over and done with).

“I am not indecisive if that’s what you’re trying to say!” You huff, arms crossing indignantly. “I’m just taking my time to weigh out the pros and cons of buying six bundles of instant ramen. Have a little faith in me, you jerk. You’re supposed to be my best friend.”

“Yeah, your best friend, not your freakin’ guardian,” he pokes a forefinger to the space between your eyebrows, ignoring your whines of protest when he pushes your head back. “And no one in their right mind would buy six bundles of ramen. Are you trying to kill yourself?”

You duck away from him, turning your attention to the other products on the shelves. “Death by ramen doesn’t sound too bad if you think about it...”

“No.”

You ignore him. You then toss two Exclusive 24-Packet Ramen bundles into the shopping cart before moving up the aisle, and Taeyong automatically returns it to its location, yawning as he does so.

“You can’t say no to death, Taeyong,” you lift a cup of noodles, turning it over in your hands as you reads the ingredients in hangul. “It’s inevitable, and better you accept it than try to dodge it—you said so yourself.”

His eye twitches. “[Name]–”

“Hey, come to think of it, didn’t you say that during our final exams? You got a sixty-three in one of them, isn’t that right? I mean, I guess it makes sense; you’ve always been horrible at math,” you reminisce innocently, placing the noodles back to where it had come from.

Taeyong presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, throwing his head back as he makes a noise of distress, startling nearby customers. “[Name], you’re missing the point!”

The girl making him want to gouge his eyes out (you) stares at him indifferently for a few beats. When he drags his palms down to fully cover his face, he peeks between the gaps of his fingers just in time to see the corner of your lip twitch up into an amused smile.

“Shut up,” he mumbles.

You lift a shoulder in a cool shrug, dismissing him, and skip down the aisle. Taeyong trails after you, a little defeated, but he quickly recovers after watching you frolic to and fro.

“What else do we need, hubby?”

Taeyong rolls his eyes at the mocking nickname (he doesn’t deny it, though, because he supposes your relationship is somewhat similar to an old married couple, anyways). He slips his phone out of his pocket and checks his notes application, going over the list of items the both of you are required to purchase in order for you and your family to survive the week ahead.

“Shampoo, a small can of oats, and three cartons of milk,” he says, pausing to stream further down. “Also, the, uh, Waterfall of Bloody Hell is due in a few days, so uh, you might wanna get pads. I got you two tubs of ice cream already, and I’m pretty sure they’re in your freezer.”

“How reliable of you, Tyongie,” she quips, “you’re so good to me!”

He grunts in response, a faint blush tinging his cheeks red.

The moment the both of you step foot into the dairy section of the grocery store, you’re already scrutinizing the different varieties of ice cream in the chilled compartments. Taeyong lingers by, one hand snug in the front pocket of his hoodie as he leans against the shopping cart’s handle, scrolling aimlessly through his phone’s photo gallery of memes. You surface from the freezer, bits of ice flakes now speckling the front of your pink top. You wave a vanilla cone in his face and he cranes his neck, all the while staring at his phone, to avoid being hit.

“Could you buy this for me?”

He reacts with a scowl but does not turn his gaze to you, preoccupied with his phone. “[Name], I literally just told you that I bought you two tubs, and here you are, nearly stabbing me in the eye with the end of a co– oh my gosh, hold it properly, will you?!” He grabs hold of your wrist, ceasing your actions before readjusting your grip of the frozen dessert.

You giggle, your bell-like laughter ringing in the otherwise dreary atmosphere of the supermarket. Taeyong’s dirty look softens at the sound and is soon replaced with an absentmindedly endeared expression. He doesn’t realize he’s been staring at you until you gently pull away from him, unperturbed by his open ogling.

He blinks. His cheeks flare a vibrant red and he pulls his hood over his head, obscuring your view of his blushing face.

“I take your angsty demeanor as a ‘no’, then,” you say with a snort, plucking the device from the singer’s hands. You toss the cone back into its compartment, sliding the glass lid closed. “You’re crankier than usual, Taeyong. One might even say you’re the one who’s bleeding.”

“Nah. You’re just a lot more intolerable today.”

“Rude.”

You walk over to the chilled shelves stocked with milk cartons while skimming through the list. Now with three cartons cradled in your arms, you waddle over to where Taeyong sulks and delicately line them inside.

The boy threads his fingers through his hair, smoothing out the black locks in an attempt to fix his disheveled appearance. “Are we done here?”

“Yup!” You beam up at him and he affectionately tugs on a strand of your hair as you start walking. “Now to get the oats...hmm, do I want instant or traditional, decisions, decisions… Hey, Tae–”

“Get traditional,” he says without skipping a beat, rolling the cart next to you. He pauses to listen to your hum of response turn into a nonsensical tune, a gentle smile gracing his features, then adds, “it’s a lot healthier.”

---

Fifteen minutes later, you receive a text from your mother containing another list of groceries you are tasked to purchase. Taeyong wants to throw himself in one of the fish tanks near the meat section at the news, and you fortunately prevent him from doing so...before rationalizing that he shouldn’t do it without video evidence (Taeyong, in the end, is the one to drag you away from the fish tanks).

You now stand back to where you started, in the ramen aisle, the shopping cart filled to the brim with fresh produce, food, snacks, and toiletries. As you contemplate the purchase of your ramen once more, Taeyong contemplates life in the background.

Your lips part to question Taeyong about whether to buy the twelve-pack or the six-pack bundle, but you’re interrupted by the sound of giddy chortles down the aisle. You turns your head to acknowledge the noise and are greeted with the sight of a small group of girls your age. To your relief, they do not pay much detail to you. To your amusement, their undivided attention is to your best friend idly standing next to you.

He’s ridiculously attractive. Do you think his hair is natural? Do you think the girl near him is his girlfriend? He’s so cute. Go talk to him. No, you go talk to him!

It makes sense, you suppose, for the male, as prickly and as edgy as he may be, is undeniably handsome in the all-black attire he’s sporting. The lone piercing that’s located at his left helix glints in the supermarket’s lighting, further supporting what the girls are likely discussing in their circle: that this boy standing in the ramen aisle is a typical bad boy.

You chew on the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from laughing at that ridiculous assumption. Lee Taeyong is anything but.  A thought crosses your mind as your eyes follow the defined line of his jaw, and you can’t help it. You smile smugly.

What a perfect opportunity to be petty and show them that he's taken reserved.

And who are you to leave your audience un-entertained?

Masking your features with an air of indifference, you stand before him. His eyes are glazed over as he stares off into nothing and you find yourself shaking your head in fond exasperation before you press your fingertip to the tip of his nose, pushing upwards to make him look like a little pig. He pulls his face away, grimacing in annoyance at the disruption called [Name] in front of him.

“What.”

You don’t say anything and instead, plop yourself face-first into his chest. He makes a small noise of surprise at the sudden weight against his front, his balance wavering for a split second before he rights himself. He chuckles after a moment or two, the sound resonating throughout his chest.

You are startled when your heart warms.

“You’re so needy,” he remarks, childish mirth coloring his tone of voice. “Did you get stuck with what flavor you wanted? Do you need help? I honestly think eating ramen is unhealthy...I heard somewhere that instant ramen is made of cement. That’s horrible for your digestive system.”

You laugh at his constant fretting. You then feel something laying on your head, and after a time of pondering as to what it is, you finalize with the theory that it is his palm. Your hypothesis, however, is debunked when you feel the familiar movement of Taeyong carding his fingers through your hair—using both of his hands.

To satisfy your curiosity, you shift your head to look up, only to be met with the dark eyes of your best friend.

He had been resting his cheek on top of your head in place of his hand.

They’re cute together, huh?

Your eye twitches.

Taeyong lets one hand cup your cheeks and squishes them together to mimic a fish. When you attempt to force yourself away from his tight grasp, he only makes a similar face down at you, keeping a steady yet gentle hold on you.

“Oi, smile more. You’ll get frown lines.”

“Daemyong, I mill mot hethitate to boite yew might mow.”

She’s definitely his girlfriend. Aw, that’s too bad! I’m not that mad, really – just look at them! They look adorable together.

He laughs, releasing you. You roll your eyes, having had enough of the ‘game’ that you probably shouldn’t have started in the first place (because now, your heart’s palpitating, what the frick frack paddy whack does your organ think it’s doing), and turn your back to him, recommencing in deciding what ramen to buy.

The girls have left, not disappointed at all.

Behind you, Taeyong sighs, but there is a half-smile on his face. He reaches over and drapes his arms on either side of your shoulders, forefinger pointing at what looked like the healthiest ramen in the aisle. His chin lays atop the center of your head, and though you express an irked attitude to his apparently obnoxious gesture, you’re trying your hardest not to smile.

“We’re never going to get out of this building, are we?” Taeyong asks five minutes later, not having moved from his position. He sounds so wistful that you let out a cackle.

“I don’t think so,” you admit. You lean back against him, causing the boy to reposition his head to your shoulder while you tucks your head into the crook of his neck.

“Tell you what,” he says, “if we leave right now, I’ll treat you to that ice cream parlor everyone’s freaking out over.”

“The really cute one with the cat foam lattes and ice cream bouquet cones?”

“Yeah. That.”

You pause to think it over then shake your head when you makes up your mind. “It’s alright. I have a better idea.”

---

( Turns out said ’better idea’ was just you hauling home six bags of groceries and, to Taeyong’s distaste, purchasing a bundle of Exclusive 24-Packet Ramen.

“When you turn into a cement statue,” Taeyong says bitterly as he carries four bags because freakin’ heck, [Name], don’t you know that two trips back and forth just isn’t worth it? “I will gladly keep you in the dorms as a lesson for the Dreamies.”

“And I will accept it. I will accept any form of death.”

“[Name]—” A tired sigh. “[Name], you’re so stupid, that’s not what I meant.” )

[eve6262]

Hue Chapter 1: Alien

Rose’s room always smells of freshly cut flowers, expensive perfumes, and tea. There are three tables. One, a desk, mostly clean save for papers half-finished and a quill and bottle. The second is her vanity, the perfumes sorted by hue and scent, small bottles and sticks of makeup littering the lineup.

The third is a small round table, on which is always the tea set, with only two cups to its name. Surrounding it are three bookshelves filled to the brim, and stacks sorted along some dissonant melody only she understands on the floor space.

“Tea?”

“Sure.”

She hums as she boils the water, scattering leaves with effortless precision. I wonder, vacantly, when she learned how to make tea so perfectly. Between studying scripture? Did she even bother to read the books, or did she ace it all while brewing cups upon cups finding the perfect recipe for pink rose tea?

The teapot has been crafted with care, so when the water boils the whistle does not hurt the ears. It sounds more like an ocarina, almost melodic, and yet so distinctly clashing. It must have been tailored to Rose herself. Such conflicting natures- calm, yet studious; unbothered, yet a perfectionist. Such a strange girl.

“Here you are.”

Always a perfect cup. This one is no different- a little sweet, and yet that is perfect for today. Can she read my mind?

“Tell me.”

“Hm?”

“Am I talking to a witch in disguise?”

“And this is because?”

“I’m supposed to believe you get this perfect, every time, including the differences, without reading my mind? Impossible.”

“You’re an open book, Mira darling.”

“Nonsense. Witch.”

“Off to report me?”

“Not even if you pulled a demon out of your skirt.”

Her laugh sounds like out of tune fairy bells. I want to hear more of it; the only thing so addictive is her smile. They come together; a package, the two of them. How nice. I’m addicted to both. Damn witch. Even if she’s never cast a curse in her life, she’s bewitched me; that’s enough, is it not?

“Now then, you’ve come here for a reason, I’m sure.”

“Yes. The new recruits were complaining about something, so I went into the woods to see. There’s a strange plant that almost seems to respond to what you do.”

“Interesting. Moreso than a flytrap?”

“Larger. And a bit more complicated. Thought I saw an eye, though I could be wrong about that in particular.”

“So you say, but you’ll disappoint me if I see no eyes staring at me when we get there.”

Rose puts down her teacup, having only half finished it. The soft clink is so ingrained into my mind, I swear my muscles move in reaction to it.

“Very well then. We leave when?”

“At your discretion.” It’s always her times. I could probably set my own, but what purpose is that? I have cleared my whole day for this; I would clear my whole week if she asked on a whim.

“Now, then?”

“As you wish.”

This, too, is at Rose’s discretion. How long it takes to get there; what pace we set, what mood the day is in. Everything is under Rose’s control; under her spell, just as I am. She is as controlling as Uvirel, I think; except Uvirel has never appeared before us to enforce things, where Rose is very willing to act on her wishes.

The woods are an offshoot of the cathedral, mostly to prevent people from wandering in and discovering something dangerous. The only way for the church to truly protect the land is to own it; naysayers often walk into danger themselves. Sometimes I wonder how anyone can agree with such idiots. Must be idiots themselves, I suppose.

Rose is beautiful. It’s something I don’t often think about- I know it, no need to keep thinking about it. But it never ceases to stun me, just how enchanting she is. In the quiet darkness of the woods, with slivers of light falling through the cracks and onto her hair, she looks like an angel with a halo of light around her; ethereal, and yet so real. I want to touch her, just to make sure she won’t fly away, or dissipate into the light. I won’t bother her.

A witch, maybe. But I’ll let it slide.

We come to the place where I remember the green visage, and I stop Rose before she takes another step.

“Here?”

“Yes.”

“To searching, then.”

It takes no time at all for my hand to be caught by a vine snapping to attention. Within moments Rose is muttering a spell, unbinding me, but her focus is not on my health; instead, she scans the underbrush with a precision befitting a hawk. Suddenly, she sees her target; she lunges with just her bare hands, and quickly gets caught.

My sword is unhooked on a moment’s notice and without hesitation I cleave the vines in two; Rose is almost unbothered, pointing to the source. I am tempted to skewer it to observe, but Rose would perhaps kill me, so instead I slash all its vines so there is no method of attack.

A final vine comes out from behind it, but before I can slice it, the front opens to an eye, staring at me with fear and curiosity.

“Ah. Good, it wasn’t disappointing.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying this, then.”

“Oh, very much so. Studying is nice, but I’ll admit watching you wield a sword is often better.”

With that she walks up, confident as a cat, and starts poking and prodding, making notes in the book that follows her around. The pages never run out; they seem to get lost in the abyss, and I swear she always opens it to the same spot. The eye looks at her with malice; I point the sword straight at it, and back to fear it goes.

After a few hours, she makes a triumphant noise, somewhere between a grunt and a hum.

“Alright. Figured it out. Think it’s bound itself to a rune, and used the magic to gain sentience. It didn’t work quite right, though, or something, and now it’s very barely an animal in the slightest degree.”

“So we are?”

“Hm? Oh. Well it’s not like it can do anything, and if it regrows the vines then whoever’s coming here should be more careful.”

“Very well. I’ll use it as training for the cadets.”

“Oh, do invite me. I would love to watch that.”

“Of course.”

As we walk back to the cathedral, I can’t help but wonder where the second eye went.

A few days later, and we are adventuring again. The days between are calm; sometimes I come simply to drink tea and take a break, others we barely talk at all. Those days I don’t quite care for. There will always be more to research, though, and thus more adventures to take. Worthwhile.

“You’ve come bearing news?”

“Not surprised the witch knows, even when I’ve done nothing to reveal my secrets.”

“Easy to read, Mira darling. I’ve told you that before and I’ll tell you again.”

“That does not change you being a witch.”

“Oh, alright. Now tell me the news.”

“I was swimming and found an underwater cave covered in green, glowing markings. I’ve never seen them before.”

“Interesting.”

The soft clink of china makes my muscles jolt on instinct. It is only luck that I do not look like a fool, much less drop my teacup.

“When are we leaving, then?”

“At your discretion.”

“Now’s a good time as any.”

The beach is very nearly next to the cathedral. I swim in my armor- it has been made waterproof due to those godforsaken salamanders that like to crawl into crevices and bind with the metal, so swimming with it is a matter of strength rather than worry about rust or the like. Rose, the cheater, casts a little spell and she’s floating in a bubble next to me. Witch.

Witch I love to love. I’ll give her that- she’s a damn skilled witch, to have caught such a high-ranking paladin. Or maybe I never actually had any fortitude, and my title is due to my good acting. In either case, I am now her puppet.

There it is, again. Under the sea- so dark compared to the light of the surface- is a strange ring of green lights surrounding a cave. They seem to speak in scripts I don’t recognize, and by her puzzled, inquisitive gaze I suspect Rose hasn’t a clue either.

“This is…otherworldly. What have you found, Mira darling?”

“Is that not your job to find out?”

“Well, it’s not an eel’s lair, I’ll tell you that. Come, let’s go.”

Without a thought she drifts almost lazily into the cavern, gazing at the walls. There are no more markings, but there are metal bits strewn about; I don’t recognize the metal, or any colors, or even the shape. No armor would break like this; what is all this? A damn ship’s remains? Not in a cave like this- no ship could make it here.

As we go further in, there are more metal scraps. At some point, Rose notices something- she dashes to pick it up, and we look at it together. Strange strings- they feel smooth to the touch, and are assorted colors. The insides have very thin metal wire- for what, I wonder? And how are they so thin? Cut with a saw?

“Mira.”

Her voice is soft, serious, in awe. I cannot focus on what she says, like this.

“Yes?”

“This…this cannot be of this world.”

“Yes.”

I can’t quite comprehend what she means. Not fully- I know, literally, what that means. The idea does not register the same way she understands it; such is evident in her absolute awe, compared to my very near boredom. If she wasn’t such a beautiful damn witch I’d leave right now.

Finally, she starts to move again. Slowly, through the tunnel, looking for more strange artifacts. A strange black panel, with the strings come out of it. There is glass on its top; I only know because it is shattered. A little square of some strange material, with a symbol on it- mildly resembling a “k,” but slightly off. Also, backwards.

The silence is ominous. I feel that something is coming; I do not know if it is hostile. Instincts, do not fail me; it feels foreign, as if even when I meet it I will not understand a damn thing. I don’t feel hostility, but that does not mean it will not fight. I must be prepared, but not hostile myself; my sword is in my sheath, but it is unhooked.

Rose is slow and methodical with her movements as we approach a breach in the water. She doesn’t let the bubble pop above the water; she wants to observe. We see more strange, unidentifiable objects. There is no one there, as far as either of us can tell. I know she thinks so, too, as she is slowly approaching.

I don’t know if this area is hostile. She doesn’t, either; I see the fear in her every move, the apprehension in her eyes. She’s about to surface; I can’t let that happen. She’s begging me not to; not with her voice, but with everything else in her body capable of begging. Or maybe I’m just under a spell.

The water splashes loudly with my arrival to the surface. My lungs go from gills to my nose; I cough a few times, still getting used to the fresh air. So clean, too; it gives me a heady feeling, how nice this air is. Perhaps this is another enchantment; perhaps Rose has simply never seen another witch’s magic.

“Zu thrien kra? Li'phren ku shren, hh…. ku'vren?”

“What the hell?” Whispers Rose, but we’re already getting our answer.

A woman- woman? I don’t know- steps out of a turn we didn’t see. Her top half looks normal compared to the bottom- a normal person, almost, except for the teal skin and light colored pupils. And her hair, which blends its colors- a vibrant blue on top, fading to dark at the tips; little teal stars dot it, as though there’s a galaxy within her long, curled mane. There are two crystals on her head like hair clips, the same color but with none of the stars; there is seafoam, or perhaps mist, or something of that nature gathering like a tiara sitting upon her head.

Her coat- which is all she wears- is certainly not from this realm. It has strange patterns on the shoulders, with little gems hanging from it in the same green, glowing hue as the outside markings. Said markings line the bottom of her coat, and the cuffs; they are folded, seemingly but line up perfectly with her outfit. There is a strange dangling link in the center of her chest, connecting the two halves rather than buttons or the like. Three teal crystals hang from it.

And then, her bottom half. Tentacles- too many to count, more than an octopus- similar to her hair, but in reverse; mostly dark, with light-tipped ends.

“…eh? Kali-vr– I mean, offworlders?”

Her voice is deep, and has a strange accent I can’t place.

“Er, this would be home, for you, hm. I am the stranger, yes?”

“I would believe so.”

“Hello, then. My apologies, I don’t know language well. Not many…” She makes wild gestures with her hand, trying to find a word.

“Resources?”

“Hm? Ah. Probably? Not very good with this language, ahaha.”

“That’s alright. I don’t know yours, so I can’t quite blame.”

“Oh, of course. Only the Aaciren know our words. I had forgotten I am on another home right now- another planet.”

“You come from space?”

“Hm? Ah…kind of, yes! Space works, yes. ”

“An alien.” Breathes Rose, as her first words of a century. Her eyes are dumbstruck, and yet hold a curiosity only ever sated by vigorous testing and interrogation. I almost feel bad for this alien woman; I don’t know quite enough to empathize, yet.

“Ah, is that the word for it? In our language it is quite different.”

Suddenly, Rose seems to remember that we are still in water; she shivers, from the temperature. I notice, at about the same time. Even for an underwater cave, this place is strangely cold.

“Ah, apologies! I perfer the chill- er, that is wrong, yes? My, my, silly Orall'vren. Give the guests the warmth, even home that is tradition- that’s not the right words? Hm. Strange language.”

The alien moves about, gathering something from farther in the cave. I look to Rose; all the intrigue is gone from her eyes, and in its place is fear and cold.

I can’t leave her like that. I hold her hand, first; she looks to me, scared, looking for some stability. I haven’t a clue what has given her a fright, but I refuse to keep that look on her face any longer. I gently nudge her into my embrace; she moves, stiffly at first, then practically launches herself into my arms, shivering against my armor. It is warmer than she is, I know this; thank Uvirel for this armor.

By the time the alien comes back, Rose is looking satisfied again. She looks at me once more with a clear thanks in her eyes. There, again, is a third look I am addicted to. Damn witch, casting her charms even now, even here. I will never tire of it.

“Here, here. Blankets are warm.”

The alien doesn’t lie. They are warmer than either of us; we huddle under two like scared kittens rescued from an abusive owner.

Now that we’re safe, Rose looks around curiously. I see the search for knowledge slowly come into her eyes again, like the slow beginning of the rising sun. Everything she looks at she looks more sharply at. She isn’t speaking again, though. Still, her voice escapes her.

“Thank you.”

“Of course, of course! Hospitality is important- that was correct, I am sure of it.”

“May I ask you a question?” Rose, finally , starts to speak to the alien.

“Yes, of course. Ask away! I will answer as best I can in this language.”

“What’s your name?”

“Orall'vren.”