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everlastingdreams · 3 months

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The Weeping Monk x Reader : Born In The Dawn Chapter 37

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Story Summary: Locked inside a dark room in a dungeon, kept alive only for your power, you believed you’d never see the daylight again. That is until the Weeping Monk finds his way down and steals you from your captors. It is the beginning of a journey that leads you through hardship and newfound hope, but nothing is assured in a world that is changing for the Fey. The magic that runs in your veins is drawing out the worst the world has to offer, does it include the man who pulled you from the dark?

Chapter Title: Pater Familias

Notes: /

Warnings: Grief. Violence. Torture. Sexual Assault. Rape Threat. Gore. Enemies To Lovers. Pining. Trauma. Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Gore?. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn…

Word count of this fic: +220K

Chapter: 37/41

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Somewhere in the night, you had ended up half-draped over him. Leg between his, arm around him. Dawn was approaching when you crawled out of bed without waking him. You hated to get out, to be back in the cold and out of the warmth he had to offer. He looked peacefully asleep, and you doubted that he had ever been so comfortable with a distance between him and his weapons at night.

After washing up, the evidence of the night was gone from your skin. It still felt like it had been a dream, one look at the bed proved that it wasn’t. You got dressed after plucking your clothes up from the floor where they had been discarded. You even picked up his and placed them on the bed. He could not stay here for much longer, the sun was about to rise and soon it would become difficult to leave this room without being noticed.

You sat down beside him on the bed, brushing a stray lock of hair from his eyes, “Lancelot?”

He slept so deeply that it looked like he had not even stirred in his sleep last night. With some soft little taps against the tip of his nose with your finger, you hoped to annoy him enough to wake. Around the fourth time, his hand flew to your wrist and held it still.

By the familiar scent and annoying actions, he knew who was doing this without having to open his eyes.

You pried his fingers loose from your wrist. “It’s almost dawn. If you want to wash before you leave, now is the time to get up.”

He inhaled deeply, opening his eyes and letting them adjust to the surroundings, “Is there another reason why you want me to leave your bed?”

Did he really think you wanted him to leave after last night?

You couldn’t resist teasing him a bit, “Gods, Lancelot. You weren’t that bad.”

It almost had him fooled, until he saw you grinning. His eyes narrowed at the blatant attempt to jest with him, he fired back, “And you were not this mouthy last night.”

Your eyes narrowed back at him, and you rose from the bed again. “I’ve put your clothes on the bed for you.”

You pointed at them. When he moved the sheets to get out of the bed, you forced yourself to look away.

He noticed the reaction, finding it quite endearing to see you shy away whilst trying to hide it. Like it dented your pride to admit that you became flustered at the sight of him like this.

“You can look, if you want.” He felt not a hint of shame to be bare near you after last night. “I do not mind.”

You bit your lip and send your gaze to the ceiling. “I’m just not used to it yet. I don’t really know how to respond, or act near someone who’s bare. Even if the person pleases my eyes.”

He did not bother to get dressed quickly, he did reach for his trousers first. “I have carnal knowledge of you now, therefore I see no reason to hide myself from you. I hope in time you will feel more comfortable.”

Lancelot began to tie the cords of his trousers until they were secured.

“I’m not uncomfortable.” You protested.

“You did not dare to look at me.” He countered.

Well…

“I looked.” You admitted.

His brow arched when realizing he had not seen that you must have taken a peek. You pressed your lips together in an attempt to hide the smile.

“I see.” He picked his shirt up to put it on.

Your eyes fell on the fabric in his hands and how it would steal the sight very soon. You got closer to him, reaching out to let your fingers walk over his chest and up to his neck. The look in his eyes changed rapidly, that tilt of his head betrayed his thoughts.

You quickly pulled your hand back. “Don’t even think about it. People will be walking through that hall very soon. We’re not the only ones who have woken up.”

To return to reality after living inside a dream was never simple.

He straightened his back, and after he put on the shirt he picked up his jerkin. “I shall wash in my own quarters, it is better this way.”

You nodded and started to help him close the belts of the jerkin.

He jested about it, “It is easier to handle them when our hands are not shaking.”

You snorted a laugh. “Much easier.”

He picked up his belts with weapons next, and you grabbed the vambraces.

You traded the vambraces for the belts. “Here, you do these and I’ll do the belts.”

“Thank you.” He smirked and took to the task of putting the vambraces on while you put the belts on him.

As you closed them, he chuckled at the tugging that accompanied it.

“Your cloak…” You spotted it not far from the door, still on the ground, and picked it up, “You hide a lot of beauty under this, you know?”

He was stunned for a moment, then let his gaze roll over your form. “So do you.”

You shook your head at it whilst smiling. “Such flattery. One would think you were trying to get me into your bed.”

There was that head tilt again, but his tone gave away that he knew it was a risky thing to say, “Or yours.”

Brave of him, even though he had said it like an uncertain child asking for another sweet. You tossed the cloak over his shoulders, helping him with it. “I’m glad you seem to be content with me, it must have been good for you to wish for more.”

It was impossible not to feel good with that knowledge, he even looked at you with the same hunger, like you were still bare.

“Content…” He muttered, and put the cloak on properly, “You were more than I could ever pray for.”

You kept your eyes fixed on the leather straps of the cloak as you fixed a fold in them. His words were a salve to your wounded heart, they had put you on the verge of tears. He curled a finger under your chin, making your eyes lift to his to study them.

He knew. He just knew that deep down your heart was hurt by the past with Matthew, it had been taken for granted. He saw himself in you, in that broken heart that had wanted to be loved by those who carelessly broke it. Love was an action, words meant nothing if not proven to be true.

You saw him lean in for a kiss and spoke as his lips closed in, “And you are all I wanted.”

His mouth curved into that boyish smile as he pressed it to yours. The sound of a door opening nearby pulled you back to reality.

“I should go.” He said.

“I’ll go and see if it’s safe.” You moved past him and towards the door.

Outside in the hall, sunlight began to creep into the fort. You listened for a moment, then beckoned for him. He hurried out of the room, but turned to look after taking some steps away.

‘Go’ You mouthed to him.

Thankfully he listened, because someone stepped out of their room just as he had turned the corner.

~~~♡~~~♡~~~♧~~~♡~~~♡~~~

Before you could even enter the dinning hall for breakfast, Ser Florent approached and stopped only a few steps away from you and Lancelot. The knight had heard of the plans for the chapel from Helio. “I have news from the healers who are interested in volunteering in our holy infirmary.” He flashed a smirk. “There is only one problem they have notified me off.”

What sort of problem?” You asked, concerned.

He looked at Lancelot and pulled a small map from where he kept it rolled up under his arm, pointing at a certain spot. “There are some herbs they need, herbs they claim that grow in abundance in a place right here.”

Lancelot closed his eyes and sighed, already guessing where this conversation was heading. “I know where it is.”

Ser Florent continued, “I am asking you to go and collect these herbs, because I have been notified by Percival that you possess a rather intriguingly strong sense of smell.”

Lancelot looked somewhat embarrassed that Ser Florent knew of it.

“Are you up for the task?” The knight looked at you and Lancelot expectantly. “With my permission for this, you can leave this hill.”

The Ash Man was not keen on the idea to take you along so close to Uther’s grounds. “I am. But perhaps it is better if she-”

Ser Florent shook his head. “If you run into trouble, you have a healer with you.”

You weren’t going to stay behind. “I’m coming with you.”

The knight was pleased to hear how determined you were, and Lancelot gave a nod of acknowledgment.

“Here is a list of the herbs needed. Please, head out now. We need these herbs.” Ser Florent handed Lancelot a small piece of parchment.

“I shall bring them to you.” Lancelot said.

The knight walked away after wishing you ‘good luck’ .

“Are we going now?” You asked.

“It is best.” Lancelot said as he began walking towards the exit of the fort. “Let us hope we do not run into Uther’s soldiers.”

“Let us hope.” You said.

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With the Ash Man’s gift for scents, finding the herbs went rather smooth. You had stuffed your satchel full of them, make certain that there would be enough to last a while. It had taken little over an hour to get to this place in the forest, but only minutes to find and gather the herbs, at this pace you’d be home again before midday even. After getting your hands dirty to get the herbs, you had washed them in the river before returning to the waiting horses.

“I need a moment, I’ll be right back.” He suddenly said.

“For what?” It was an innocent inquiry.

He blinked twice, then was bluntly honest. “The water I drank is seeking it’s way out.”

The laugh that rippled out of you was loud, “I’ll wait here.” you told him.

He headed into the discretion of the trees. You were kicking some leaves around, entertaining yourself as you waited, there was some distance between yourself and the horses. A voice rang loud over the silence of the forest.

“It’s her!” One was heard shouting.

The aggression in those few words made fear run down your spine. It had come from close-by, too close-by. You pivoted on your heels, the sun made the silver of the symbol shine from afar. A pendant hanged from the man’s neck, the symbol of the Brotherhood. Your mouth opened to shout for Lancelot, a gasp forced it’s way out instead when someone tackled you roughly to the ground.

The sword at your hip was stolen and tossed further away, out of your reach. There were two of them, one covered your mouth to keep you quiet, another came to help him and tied your wrists behind your back with a long piece of rag. They pulled you up from the ground and started to pull you along.

Not again. Not again. Not again…

The thought that they could be dragging you to a dungeon to imprison you was enough to panic. For just the smallest moment, the hand left your mouth to take hold on your arm and keep you under control. It happened by instinct when you screamed out Lancelot’s name in terror, you couldn’t have prevented it. You struggled against them until the tallest Brother gave a backhanded slap, hard, across your face. The fall was anything but soft, maybe it was even more painful than the hit. Nausea set in quickly, your vision darkened, you must have hit your head on the ground. A burst of bright green light blinded the eyes of all involved.

Your vision went dark completely.

The first thing you felt when regaining consciousness completely, was the warmth of the sun on your body. You blinked your eyes open, your body slowly returned to it’s normal state. Your head felt so light that it felt unlikely that you could lift it up from the grass.

The earthy smell of the soil, mixed with those of withering leaves, helped to bring you back to the present. But there was something else, that touch you knew so well.

Lancelot gingerly brushed the back of his fingers along your cheek and temple. How long had he been trying to wake you?

You found the heavens clouded by concern when looking into his eyes. “What happened?…”

“I do not know.” He said, confused. “Are you alright?”

It took a moment to reply, as if your brain needed to check if all the limbs you had were still present. “I think so.”

He sat down just beside you, relieved.

Memories were catching up with you. That bright light… that strange warmth that had accompanied it. It couldn’t be…

He was looking into his hands, and you noticed that the leaf-like markings were glowing to live, he opened and closed them continuously as if he believed it would stop.

You sat upright, practically crawling closer to him. “Are you alright?”

The glow that lived in his markings seemed eerily familiar. One look around told that the attackers were nowhere in sight anymore. He was yet to answer your question.

“Lancelot. What happened to the Brothers?” You asked.

“I dragged them away. I didn’t want you to see.”

He didn’t want you to see what he had done. It was a gruesome sight.

“I just… grabbed his arm…” His eyes never lifted from his hands. “There was fire. It consumed them.” His voice trailed off, weakening.

Their charred remains were barely recognizable anymore.

You slowly reached for his hand, he closed it into a fist, as if he feared what could happen if you were to touch the marks now.

He tried to make sense of it. “The Hidden… I heard their wrath and it surged through me. Bonded with my own. And then there was fire.”

“Green fire?” You asked

He nodded.

Carefully you took hold of his hand, folding it open and tracing the intricate leaves patterns on his palm with the tips of your fingers. “Fey Fire, Lancelot. You created Fey Fire.”

There was no other explanation. It even made perfect sense considering his heritage.

“Are you worried you cannot control it?” You wondered.

He slowly shook his head, relaxing under the caress of your fingers. “I know I can. I wanted to harm them. I caused it subconsciously, but I did cause it.”

Quite a pair. One that healed and one that burned.

The magic present in his glowing marks made your own respond in return, you weren’t even healing him and still your eyes were overtaken by the green glow.

“You can feel it.” Lancelot breathed out at the sight of them. “That power…”

You nodded and tried to calm your racing heart, there was so much power running through him, and by the Hidden’s link you could feel it in your bones.

You put his hand in your lap, holding it in your own. “That never happened before?”

“Never.” He shook his head. “Do you believe it could be because I am beginning to accept what I am?”

Your palm brushed over his hand, soothing the tense muscles in it. “It is very possible. You could have been repressing this all your life.”

Lancelot sat quietly, index finger stroking along your knuckles, eyes never lifting from your intertwined hands. “When you screamed, I felt my blood run cold. And then I saw them, how they struck you down…” He swallowed. “I felt the fire in my blood before it even presented itself. I wanted to kill them, but I never thought this would happen.”

He took hold of your hand, tugging at it a little until you got closer.

“Show me.” You squeezed his hand.

He misunderstood and showed you the palm of his hand, the glow was starting to fade along with the markings.

You repeated, sending him a knowing look. “Show me.”

He looked away, but could not pretend for long that he preferred the view of trees over the view of you. Then he stood up from the ground, you followed suit. Lancelot chose a fallen branch from the dozens that were scattered around.

“Don’t be afraid.” He exhaled shakily. “Please, don’t be afraid.”

You stood strong, not letting any reaction show on your face. That attempt failed when the pattern of leaves spread over the skin of his hand, and it brought forth the birth of the green flames that now burned the branch. It was awe inducing. The Fey Fire did not burn him. He came closer to you, letting you see what the Fey had considered lost decades ago. You could weep from joy. The Hidden sounded so, so pleased. He took a couple of calming, deep breaths, and the flames slowly extinguished until nothing but the burned branch remained. He let it fall to the ground. For a moment you said nothing, too stupefied to speak. He was breathing harder, waiting for any sort of response.

“That was amazing!” You flung your arms around him.

He went rigid for a second, then gave in to the embrace wholeheartedly. His markings retreated as if they knew they were never to cause you harm.

“Can we… keep this between us?” He quietly asked. “I do not want it to be known. Not yet. Not until the Fey know that they do not have to fear me.”

How clever was it to keep such big secrets? Bringing people back from the dead… creating Fey Fire…

“I understand your concern. I was wondering if maybe we should at least tell my parents? It’s just… I fear the secrets are going to build themselves up too far, I don’t want us to be buried and burdened with them.”

He leaned back, collecting your hands in his.

You offered to share your own secrets as well. “I will tell them of what I did, of how the Reaper killed you, how I truly accepted my duty as summoner when I brought you back.”

For a moment, he was quietly thinking. Then a nod. “Then I will notify them of my power as well.”

A breath of relief left you. “Yes?”

“Yes.” Another nod. “I trust them.”

“Even my father?” You asked.

“Despite his distrust towards me, I believe he will be content to know that Fey Fire is not extinct after all.” He said. “And perhaps he will not wish to kill me then, when he learns of the depths to our bond.”

You tried to smile, knowing that your father would kill the gods themselves if he believed them to be a threat to his family. “Good. Keep those positive thoughts.”

“How encouraging.” He jested, grinning as he let go of you. “When do you wish to speak of this to them?”

The sooner, the better. “When we get back. Or I will lose the courage.”

“Very well. But first we will need to bring these herbs to Florent.” He took your arm and guided you to the horses.

With his hands on your waist, he seemed to calculate whether or not you were steady enough on your feet to mount Aella.

“Be careful.” He whispered, seemingly reluctant to let go.

You carefully pulled yourself into the saddle and gave a reassuring nod down at him. When you didn’t fall off your horse, he went towards Goliath and got into the saddle as well. Steering the steed closer and reaching over to hold onto Aella’s reins, leading her along.

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After bringing the herbs to Ser Florent, and giving him a brief explanation about what had happened, you found yourself in the dining hall. The space was empty, apart from Lancelot, your parents and yourself.

The Ash Man looked at you, tilting his head, giving you the word to start this.

“There is something important Lancelot and I wish to tell you.” Your eyes darted between the faces of your parents.

Helio’s expression changed instantly. “Gods.”

Mirena touched his arm, hearing the cold tone. “Let them speak first, dear.”

It was as if your lips failed to part to bring the words out, you had to take a second to be able to.

“When we were captured by the Reaper, he wanted to prove that the Dawn Folk were the key to immortality. It was insane. He made me try to revive the men he killed, men of the Brotherhood.” You began to fidget at the memory. “My magic was not strong enough. And as a means to ‘encourage’ me, he…” The words got stuck in your throat, you were blinking fast against the tears that threatened to form. “He stabbed Lancelot through the heart with a knife.”

Helio and Mirena were shocked by the information.

“Then how is he here now?” Helio gestured to Lancelot.

“I promised the Hidden I would be their summoner, if they gave me the strength to bring him back.” You quietly said. “I accepted their offer.”

Mirena had covered her mouth with her hand, eyes wide.

“You are truly a summoner now?” Helio was surprised to hear that you finally had fully accepted their call.

You nodded, eyes fixed on the floor often. “I am. But… I believe they only gave me this power to save Lancelot, because they have chosen him as summoner of the Ash Folk. I remember how enraged they were, this power… it was something they were reluctant to give.”

Mirena was looking at Lancelot, as if she was was looking at a ghost.

Helio stepped closer to you, “The Hidden are powerful, but even they know there is a limit, a boundary that should not be crossed. This kind of power, even for Dawn Folk, must be used with the balance of life and death in mind. You know this.”

You swayed a bit unstable on your feet when he put a hand on your shoulder. “I know. I will not abuse this power. I hope to never use it again, it took so much from my strength.”

He gave it a squeeze and withdrew his hand. “As your father, I demand you do not surrender your own life to save another. But I understand why you had to do what you did.”

Mirena spoke to Lancelot. “I believe there is something you wish to say?”

The Ash Man gave a nod and stepped forward. “It is true, I have heard the Hidden’s call since I was a boy. Up until weeks ago, I refused to acknowledge it. Now, the more I have begun to accept my heritage, the more I feel their presence. I believe they have chosen me to be the summoner of my clan, perhaps because I may be the last of the Ash Folk left.” He folded his fidgeting hands together behind his back. “Today, I experienced what it meant to be of my clan. Two of the Brotherhood had found y/n, I stopped them from taking her. The Hidden’s fury, at the thought of losing a summoner, awakened a power within me I did not know I possessed.”

Helio was listening intently, albeit a bit impatient, “What sort of power?”

Lancelot breathed out the answer, locking eyes on Helio’s face. “Fey Fire.”

Your parents were staring at him for a while.

“Do you have it contained?” Helio finally spoke, and raised a brow in suspicion.

“I believe I do.” Lancelot tried to not let his voice shake.

Helio was stern about it. “Good. We do not want any accidents in our home. Understood?”

The Ash Man fixed his eyes to the floor and tilted his head. “Of course, Sir.”

“We were hoping that this knowledge would not go further than the four of us.” You quickly told them.

Helio scoffed. “Letting knowledge such as this travel further would bring nothing but risks. They already destroyed our clan for our healing, I do not want to know what they would do if they knew one of us can raise the dead. And Fey Fire? The fire that forged the most powerful weapons in the world. Yes, it is best if this is kept quiet.”

You were so relieved to hear it.

Mirena was still processing the news, she cleared her throat, “Was there anything else you wished to tell us?”

You looked at Lancelot, then both shook your heads.

“Thank the gods.” Helio said, sounding oddly relieved. “Mirena…”

Your father took her hand and leaded her out of the dining hall, undoubtedly to discuss this with her alone.

“You did well.” You told Lancelot.

He gave a nod, swallowing down the anxiousness still caught in his throat. “So did you.”

He looked to the closed door, and took hold of your hand for just a moment, a reassuring gesture. He released your hand when the first people entered the dining hall to eat their midday meal.

“Shall we take a seat?” He asked.

“Of course.” You said and went to pick where to sit.

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Late midday, Lancelot was called upon by Ser Florent to discuss what needed to be done in the chapel. To the Ash Man’s relief, the knights were willing to listen to what he had to say.

Ser Florent gave his opinion to them on the matter. “We owe it to the Dawn Folk to ensure that they remain in good health. These are the last survivors of their clan, we cannot risk any of them to be drained of all their life’s energy by healing. Lancelot is right, we need the chapel to become a place for healers and even volunteers to unite.”

An older knight gave some resistance. “But the chapel carries a bad name among the Fey here.”

Lancelot was leaning against a table, overhearing their discussion. “It will not remain a chapel. It will become a place of healing and not in the spiritual manner of the word.”

The old knight hummed and looked at the younger one beside him, who simply shrugged his shoulders.

“Any other question or concerns? Speak them now.” Ser Florent asked, and when no one reacted said, “Good. We travel to the village today and recruit those with knowledge of healing. Ser. Baron, you will visit the lumberman and arrange for wood to use in restoring the building. Ser. George, seek volunteers who are willing to aid in the build.”

“Yes, Ser.” They exclaimed in unison.

Ser Florent gave a nod of acknowledgment to Lancelot.

The door of the dining hall opened behind the knight and Helio walked into the room. It registered too late that the Dawn Man had a loaded crossbow ready in hand. The speed at which Helio aimed and fired off the bolt was impressive to say the least. The unsuspecting Ash Man barely managed to turn his body sideways as it flew an inch past him and landed loudly into the wall. Helio was readying another bolt while Lancelot was still processing what was happening. Even the knights were shocked by the unexpected attack on him.

When he finally looked at the face of the man, he saw the pure rage roaring in his eyes. That was not the look of a man who could be reasoned with. What was he supposed to do? Try to disarm the enraged father of the woman he loved and risk injuring him, or flee?

He raised a hand in surrender. “Helio-”

Lancelot had to duck for the bolt that nearly landed in his head this time.

Ser Florent moved to stand in between Helio and Lancelot, raising his hands in both surrender and plea, “Helio, what is going on?! Speak to me!”

Helio simply readied another bolt and aimed again. “I warned him! Step aside, Florent.”

Even the knight wondered what the bloody hell the Ash Man had done for this to happen. Ser Florent took a wild guess that Helio might suspect that there was something between you and the Ash Man, and tried to diffuse the situation. “Helio, we cannot murder people over rumors.”

Helio bit the words at them, “I know he was in my daughter’s chamber last night, and left just before dawn!” He spat the words at Lancelot,“Someone saw you! You filthy bastard!”

Lancelot felt himself go pale, something the knights around him must have noticed.

Ser Florent knew that he was the only one standing between the Ash Man and a bolt now, “Don’t say a thing.” The knight spoke to him, then turned to Helio. “He has helped us, Helio. Even if it is true that he… we should not kill him-”

Helio kept his eyes on his target. “Do you deny it?!”

Lancelot felt the eyes of the room on him as he decided to speak the truth. “I do not.”

The Dawn Man’s voice was venomous and low, “Did you share her bed?”

“Helio, please-” Ser Florent desperately tried to prevent bloodshed.

“Did you?!” Helio shouted out.

He could not keep running away from the truth. Sooner or later they would find out, and if he lied about it now it would not help him later.

“Yes.” He told Helio the truth.

The knights began to mumble to each other instantly.

Helio took aim and Ser Florent feared for his life. “Whoa! Helio, come now. I understand, I really do. But if you kill him, you will hurt your daughter too.”

“My daughter is strong, she will be alright.” Helio tried to get a good aim past the knight.

The persistence of the knight was getting on Helio’s nerves and he commanded the others to aid him, “Seize him! I will learn the truth out of him!”

Ser Florent was powerless against the order of his commander and had to watch how the others seized the Ash Man and brought him to his knees. The cold steel of Ser. Baron’s sword touched Lancelot’s throat. Helio lowered the crossbow, only to punch Lancelot across the face.

He had seen it coming, it wasn’t the first time he had faced an angry father figure. Still, the force of it made his head spin and he tasted blood in his mouth.

In his rage, Helio’s voice gave away the sorrow he felt, “She is my child! My child! And you sullied her! Why?!” He was breathing heavily. “There is an old saying. One I might believe is befitting for you. To what you’ve done!”

The Dawn Man took a moment to breath.

“The child that is rejected by the village will burn it down to feel it’s warmth.” Helio said it slowly. “That is what you have done to our people. Burn their homes, their families, their hope. And now you have come here to do the same with my family.”

The man’s words cut through him like burning hot steel.

“I gave you a chance. I risked my name and honor for you when I defended you against our people!” Helio shouted it at him. “I grant you shelter, and you take my daughter?”

The Dawn Man’s words hurt him far more than the punch had. He could not bring a word out, not because the man was furious, but because he could hear the heartbreak under that fury. He looked up at him and saw beyond the rage, seeing only a father who wished for nothing else than to keep his child safe. Father Carden would have never done this for him.

The confession felt like a weight lifting off of him. “I love her.”

Helio’s expression changed only for a second, then turned cold again, “How could you know what love is?”

Lancelot dropped his gaze to the floor, but forced himself to not let his confession be mocked or seen as a lie. “She taught me what it is. Everyday, again and again, it is what she is.”

To him, you were the embodiment of the term. What was love? You. You were love itself in his eyes.

Helio lifted the crossbow and held it close to Lancelot’s face. “My daughter deserves better!”

Those weeping eyes looked past the crossbow, and up into the ones who held such rage and despair. “End my life if you must, but do not let her see my death.”

He had never forgotten your screams and cries as he had once faded away into the darkness alone. Death was merciful, but not for those who suffered the grief.

“I do not want to face this world alone.” Lancelot’s gaze and voice lowered. “Not without her. Never again.”

He had never sounded so certain, so frightened, and tired of all the world had forced him to undergo.

The Fey’s greatest warrior was down on his knees, pleading for mercy on the suffering he had always kept inside. The Ash Man shut his eyes and bend his head down into submission when the crossbow was aimed to his forehead.

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forzalando · 3 years

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royally screwed | fw | pt. two

pairing: prince!fred x princess!reader word count: 2.4k warnings: cursing, mentions of meals/food, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers a/n: hello friends! happy valentine’s day!!💛the long awaited part two is here and i hope you all enjoy!😊bonus points if you catch the subtle hp references in this chapter hahaha thank you to @spacexcowgirl for beta reading, i love you dearly!! you can read part one here

summary: Prince Frederick Weasley of Burrow was a twin, but unfortunately, at least in his mind, he was born the eldest twin, meaning it was his duty to inherit the kingdom. Since the young age of ten, Fred knew that he was to marry Princess Y/N Y/L/N of Diagon, and over the years they’ve both come to dread the day. With the eve of their wedding closely approaching, their disdain for each other begins to worry their respective families. However, there is a very fine line between love and hate.

Y/N awoke the next morning and immediately recounted the previous day’s events; she could feel the puffiness in her face and eyes from the tears shed after her Mother left her room. She had hoped that their conversation would go differently, but it was done and there was nothing left she could say regarding the matter.

A sharp knock on Y/N’s chamber door had her jumping up and crossing the room faster than her feet would carry her. She stumbled a bit, almost crashing into the door before pulling it open, only to see the most peculiar sight.

Frederick Weasley, with his siblings stood behind him, although George was standing rather close so that he could pinch his brother’s ear.

“Well,” Ginny goaded, “go on then, you arse.”

Fred turned swiftly to shoot his sister a glare, but George’s grip on his ear had him wincing in pain.

“You better get going or I swear I’ll rip it off,” George grumbled, struggling to hide the jesting smile creeping on his face.

“Fine, fine,” Fred huffed. “Princess Y/N, I would like to apologize for my behavior last night. It was entirely unacceptable and I hope that you can find it in your impossibly sma-”

Ginny quickly stomped on Fred’s foot, interrupting what Y/N was sure would be an insult.

“Pardon me, your impossibly large heart, to forgive me. I was also wondering if you would care to join me for breakfast in the drawing room.”

George promptly let go of Fred’s ear, but not without one final yank, and the entire clan of Weasley siblings looked at Y/N expectantly, awaiting her answer with fervor.

“You must be absolutely mad, Frederick Weasley,” she scoffed, folding her arms across her chest in defiance. “After your attitude last night, which you had for no reason, I might add, and you come knocking on my door to ask if I want to have breakfast with you? I don’t want to see your face unless I have to!”

“I’m trying, Y/N! You said that the least I could was try, so here I am, offering to spend time with you when I’d rather lick the floor in the foyer.”

“Well, then, feel free to go scrub the floors with your tongue because I will not join you for a meal today or any other day!”

Fred stalked away with no objections from his siblings, who were all laughing at Y/N’s quip. She had a satisfied smile on her face as well, but it quickly fell when she averted her gaze to the three other Weasley siblings.

“Now what exactly did you think that was going to accomplish?” Y/N spoke with a, mostly, playful glare to the three standing before her.

“Honestly, we were hoping a bit that you wouldn’t answer the door. Mum made us drag him down here,” George answered with a shrug of his shoulders.

“But, now that we are here,” Ginny said excitedly, “will you have breakfast with us?”

Y/N smiled softly; she could never say no to spending time with her only friends.

“Let me get dressed and I’ll meet you…where should I meet you?”

“The drawing room…” Ron mumbled, hoping Y/N wouldn’t recall that Fred wanted to take his breakfast there as well.

“You three are insufferable,” Y/N laughed, “however, I’ll be there in ten. Hopefully he will be gone by then.”

Y/N gently shut her door and quickly threw on a dress and her day slippers; her mother would absolutely have a fit if she saw the disheveled state she was in, but Y/N simply couldn’t care.

After a quick glance in the mirror, Y/N hurried through the castle corridors that she had come to know so well and made it to the drawing room in record time. To her delight, Frederick was nowhere to be seen.

“Good Morning, dear,” Queen Molly said warmly from her seat. “Have you by chance seen Fred this morning?”

Y/N heard the quiet snickering of Ron and George and then a hushed “shut it” that could only have come from Ginny.

“Oh, yes, Queen Molly, he stopped by my chambers to apologize. Very out of character for him, I wonder if someone slipped something into his morning tea.”

Molly Weasley hummed lightly, taking the slightly sarcastic tone of Y/N’s voice to mean that things hadn’t gone as she directed.

“That’s lovely, dear, maybe you’ll actually have a civil conversation in the gardens.”

Y/N set down her tea slowly, trying not to act shocked because she had no knowledge of a walk in the gardens.

“The gardens? I didn’t know anything about the gardens,” Y/N mused inquisitively.

“That’s where Fred is right now, I told him you’d be along in a few minutes. He even looked a bit excited,” Molly teased.

Y/N snorted inelegantly and immediately covered it with a cough; she rose from the table and looked pleadingly at George, hoping he could come up with some form of an excuse that would save her from time spent with Frederick, but George refused to look at her and continued eating his breakfast unbothered.

“I’ll go meet him now, Queen Molly. I’m sure he’s awfully busy so we can make this short,” Y/N said with a smile.

“Fred is free all day, I cleared his schedule, dear.”

“Brilliant,” she grimaced.

With a half-hearted wave, she left the drawing room and begrudgingly walked towards the gardens, smiling politely at each person she passed. Even if her future husband did not care for her, Y/N took comfort in knowing that his family and the people in the castle did; she hoped it would make the rest of her life tolerable.

All too soon, Y/N felt the sunshine on her face as she stepped into the magnificent palace gardens. She could spot Prince Frederick’s fiery hair a mile away; he was standing near the rose bushes twirling a yellow one between his long fingers.

The rustling of the grass between Y/N’s feet caused Fred to turn around to find the source of the noise.

He stalled a bit; even though he despised the Princess of Diagon, he could never deny that she was breathtakingly beautiful. Her hair was unkempt, a soft pink, cotton gown swished around her legs as she stalked toward him, and her face was set in a scowl but even the worst grimace could not distract from her captivating eyes.

It was entirely infuriating, and it made Fred want to hate her even more, but some intrinsic force wouldn’t allow him.

“What are you staring at?” Y/N asked, her eyebrow raising.

“Nothing,” Fred replied with a shake of his head. “I’m just thinking of all the ways I’d rather spend my morning.”

“Well, it seemed like you were staring at me. Do it again and I’ll push you into the rose bushes, I don’t care if you are the future King.”

Fred turned his head and tried not to crack a smile, but failed miserably as the corner of his mouth quirked up involuntarily.

“Let’s get this over with, Y/N, can your stubby legs keep up?”

“It’s not my fault you shot up like a bloody bean pole; you went from stumpy to looking like someone sewed tree limbs together and animated them.”

“Most women like tall men.”

“I like tall men, Frederick, I just don’t like you.”

A stunned silence fell over the two royals, only the sounds of the rustling leaves and nearby animals could be heard.

“I suppose that’s why you like Prince Cedric, then?”

“Beg your pardon?” Y/N’s eyes widened, confused at the sudden interrogation.

“Your conversation with your Mother last night, how you begged her to marry him instead. Or my brother. Or that horrid Malfoy.”

“You had no right – that was a private conversation. How dare you eavesdrop on my personal business? Every time I think you have a shred of decency you prove me wrong, Frederick Weasley.”

Fred stepped in front of the Princess, blocking her path and preventing her from walking on.

“Prove you wrong? I had come to your room to apologize when I heard you plotting with your Mother to run off with someone else and disrespect my family.”

“I would never disrespect your family. They’ve never been anything but good and kind to me, the last thing I would ever want to do is hurt them. I haven’t the slightest idea how you’re related to any of them.”

“Oh, I know, you have them all wrapped around your little finger,” Fred scoffed.

“I’m not going to stand here and fight with you, Frederick, I don’t have the energy. Can we please just keep moving and we can tell your Mother we had a wonderful time and learned so much about each other.”

Y/N stepped around Fred, lightly grabbing his wrist to pull him along through the endless rows of flowers.

“She’ll probably quiz us and you don’t even know my favorite color,” Fred griped.

“It’s purple, I think,” Y/N blurted. “I overheard you telling your Mum years ago that you wanted purple frosting on some dessert. I figured that meant it was your favorite.”

“And you remembered?”

“There aren’t a lot of things I forget about the people in my life, Frederick. If it’s important to you, I’ll remember.”

“But you don’t care about me, why did you even bother?”

Y/N sighed and shook her head before turning to look at Fred, shielding her eyes from the sun.

“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t hate you. I don’t particularly like you, maybe in a different life we’d actually be friends, but I don’t hate you. I don’t hate anyone.”

Fred realized this was the longest they’d gone without arguing in years, and it was barely one tenth of a conversation. He turned his head slightly to watch Y/N, taking in the way she gazed lovingly at the surrounding flora, and noticed her eyes linger a bit longer every so often.

“Yellow,” Fred mumbled.

“What was that?” Y/N asked.

“You look longer at the yellow flowers. Yellow is your favorite color.”

Y/N smiled softly, the same smile she’d given Fred when she had arrived the day before but it was infinitely more sincere.

“If you were like this all the time, you wouldn’t be so bad Frederick.”

“Who says I’m not?”

Y/N rolled her eyes and this time Fred could not contain himself; he laughed loudly, and the sound triggered a fluttering of sorts in the Princess’s chest. They continued their walk, chattering idly and the Prince even picked a blooming yellow rose and delicately handed it to his Princess.

“I really did want to apologize last night, you know,” Fred assured. “I didn’t have any reason to be so rude when you arrived, I guess it was just…habit. We have a way of getting under each other’s skin.”

“Apology accepted, for your rudeness yesterday, of course. But, you owe me another.”

“Another?”

“Yes, for eavesdropping on me and my Mother.”

“That conversation involved me, I hardly think it’s one I shouldn’t be aware of if you’re trying to finagle your way out of our betrothal.”

“It may involve you, but it was a private conversation.”

“That involved me.”

“My God, I’ve said it before but truly every time I think you can redeem yourself, you do or say something completely asinine. Do you have any manners?”

“You were talking about me, I felt I had a right to listen!”

Y/N groaned loudly in annoyance, drawing the attention of the nearby guards.

“I don’t even believe you wanted to apologize, you had the chance this morning and just insulted me like you always do! Every decent part of you is nothing but an act!”

“You don’t even know me,” Fred seethed.

“No, I don’t, but it’s because you won’t let me!”

“You’ve never even tried, don’t attempt to play me for a fool, Y/N.”

“Well, I’m trying now. I’m trying now and still all we can do is fight.”

The two stood toe to toe, breathing heavily and staring into each other’s eyes. After a few moments, Y/N looked away and sighed deeply. It sounded almost dejected, Fred realized, rather than the anger he had expected.

“Go ahead of me back to the castle, please, I’d like to actually enjoy the rest of the walk.”

“I don’t have to take orders from – ”

“You’ll do as I say, Frederick Weasley,” Y/N snapped.

Fred wanted to argue; God, did he want to argue with her until he was blue in the face, but something about the tone of her voice frightened him a bit. So, he scoffed and stalked back to the castle, swinging his fists by his sides and gritting his teeth.

He passed by his twin, giving George a half-hearted wave before entering the castle. It wasn’t hard to sense the tone of what had transpired, and George shook his head and took off running towards the gardens to find Y/N.

“Oi! What did he do this time?” George shouted as he slowed to a stop in front of Y/N.

“Just the usual. Acting like a pompous prick that can do no wrong. He was nice for two minutes and then refused to apologize for eavesdropping last night on a conversation between me and my Mother!”

George rolled his eyes and raked a hand down his face, massaging his temples in preparation for the headache that his brother always managed to give him.

“Y/N, you know he’s not malicious, he’s just an idiot sometimes,” George offered.

“I appreciate you defending him but at the moment it’s going in one ear and out the other, Georgie.”

He laughed and slung an arm around the Princess’s shoulders, joining her on the remainder of her walk through the gardens. He noticed Y/N twirling a yellow rose around and every so often lifting it to inhale its sweet scent.

“Stealing flowers from our gardens, eh?” George jested, bumping his hip into Y/N.

“Frederick picked it for me, actually,” she mumbled.

“Well, that’s sweet. You two can get along, is what I’m seeing and hearing.”

“It was a momentary lapse of judgment,” Y/N sighed, before throwing the perfect rose to the ground and ensuring her slipper crushed the delicate petals.

When they were good and flattened into the Earth, she swore she felt an ache in her chest.

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#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley au #fred weasley #prince!fred au #enemies to lovers #royally screwed #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x f!reader #fred weasley fic

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elliehase-blog · 3 years

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It’s typical for me to set up a story or drabbles around my drawings, but I’m not always confident enough to share them with you due to my lack of knowledge in the English grammar. This is a foreign language for me, therefore I still make a lot of mistakes and not noticing them.

For this redrawing of Crawly I wrote a little prelude for my story “Don’t Stop Me Now” on AO3. I have finished two new chapters already, but unfortunately my friend (who has corrected my stories in the past) is too busy with her work. If there’s anyone out there, who enjoys to proofread stories, please contact me!

Prelude

It was lo-... something at first sight.

The angel of the Eastern Gate stood atop Eden’s outer wall, facing the deserted land with a concerned glance. His wavy fair hair reflected the setting sun, some soft rays gently embraced his contours. Gray clouds were piling over the garden. With his white robe and the dark atmosphere forming around him, he looked bright and shining like a star in the night sky.

He was the most fascinating thing Crawly had ever seen.

And Crawly had seen a lot of things in his immortal existence. In the old days he had been an angel himself, a builder of blazing stars and astonishing constellations. But none of his creations ever radiated in such a wonderful warm glow, giving him satisfaction and ease at once. There was something magical about the other man, which is why Crawly couldn't avert his gaze.

Strictly speaking, Crawly didn’t cross a line here. He wasn’t in close contact with the angel, staying at the apple tree most of the time, fulfilling his demonic duty. No one ever said he couldn’t sneak away occasionally and admire his new encounter from afar, though. Nothing wrong in it. At least until it became his favourite occupation of the day.

So the serpent observed the beautiful chubby angel quite a while. From a safe distance, of course. As a demon he had straight orders from Hell to cast some trouble in the Garden of Eden. It was highly inappropriate to reach out to the opposition by whatever means, he guessed, or even conveying interest in an angel in the first place. Probably it was forbidden as well. Something demons ought not to do.

He did anyway.

Crawly watched the serene beauty and listened carefully to every word that emerged these rosy lips, straining to find out more about the angelic guard, trying to get the whole picture. Every piece of the puzzle dragged him closer each day. He liked the way the blond angel yielded his flaming sword when he was practicing some quite impressive combat moves. He liked the way how politely the other man was talking to God’s newest creations (especially the animals), just like he really cared. And he absolutely adored the way the angel’s name rolled off his tongue. Aziraphale... The demon whispered it a couple of times just to listen to the melodic sound.

After seven days Crawly came to the conclusion, that the angel of the Eastern Gate wasn't a threat or dangerous at all, only confirming his initial impression. In fact, there was something tragically lonesome about him. It was almost like looking into a mirror, finding someone as isolated as yourself. No other angel came to talk to him, even God never answered his prayers. That situation felt strangely familiar. Crawly wanted to get closer to the other man straightway, literally craved for a conversation with every fibre of his body. If there was the slightest chance, that the blond angel could truly understand how he feels, that they both are broken in some way, maybe they could feel wholesome again by being together.

They barely knew each other, but as they started talking, it felt like they had known each other for far longer than just a minute. Aziraphale treated him as equal, even though Crawly had revealed his black wings, openly showing his demonic nature. There was no loathing, no rolling eyes, no distrust in the angel’s voice. It was ... odd. Something, Crawly had never experienced before.

So Crawly had stood frozen in indecision for what seemed like forever, thinking of the right way to approach, the right words to say. A feeling of nervousness overwhelmed him. The first impression counted, after all.

And the foremost thing that popped into his mind was, “That one went down like a lead balloon.”

Well. Could have been worse, right?

From up close he could study the other man’s face even better. His far too cute button nose and his ridiculously bright blue eyes, just to name but a few. It completely captured the demon. The way Aziraphale smiled, chuckled in a warm tone as Crawly mentioned their possible misstep, finally tipped him over the edge. It seized his chest with something deeper than admiration.

When raindrops started to pour at the very first time on earth, the demon gazed insultingly upon the sky. It felt cold and wet and absolutely annoying on his skin. The snake-like part inside of him immediately wanted to curl away and hide somewhere safe and warm. The other part clearly wanted to stay right next to Aziraphale, cautiously coming closer. Without a second thought or expecting any kind of counter-performance, the blond man stretched his impressive white wing to shield Crawly.

And that was when the demon had fallen for the angel completely.

Crawly knew on the spur of the moment that he had met the kindest person in his godforsaken life. Cheesy but true. He remembered clearly what Heaven was like. Not as nice as everyone thought it would be, though. On the one hand, he was bored stiff all the time. No temptations or decent drinks, for instance. But worst of all were the conceited archangels and their stupid duties and expectations they placed on every low-ranking angel.

Curiosity and self-determination were two words that simply didn’t appear in Heaven’s vocabulary. As well as ‘Thank you for your hard work’ or ‘We really appreciated that you’ve done this whole crap without questioning it in the first place’ or just a simple ‘Your last nebula was mind-blowing, you incredibly talented angel’.

It’s not that Crawly was demanding or so. Really! But for some kind words you’d wait in vain.

To be fair and square, in Hell they won’t offer you cookies either (Crawly really tried to convince his fellow demons to put more effort into the right acquisition, but incomprehensibly it never fell on understanding ears). Demons don’t trust each other, they don’t even have a single feeling for one another except suspicion. You certainly don’t make friends in Hell. It is a place full of loneliness.

Aziraphale was the first person who ever cared about Crawly at all, noticing things no one noticed, really looking at him and not at the demonic shell. A pure angel as people believe angels should be, with kind and untainted affection. And that was truly something remarkable, because after six thousand years with a troublemaker like him, a demon, his hereditary enemy, Aziraphale never stopped caring.

Read the rest of the chapter here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29945739

#good omens #good omens fanart #good omens fanfiction #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable partners #ineffable husbands

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plainlo-inthemorning · 3 years

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A little written-in-the-middle-of-the-night Loki fic snippet that just grew another leg. TVA Loki + Lokane. Rating T.

(First part is here)

Shine a Light, part II

The tempad feels hot and slippery in his palm as he stalks down the hallway, quickly putting distance between himself and the hunter he left unconscious amidst overturned chairs and tables in the canteen.

The mess had already been there, leftovers from workers rushing panicked to man their stations. He had simply added one more touch.

Tiny droplets of sweat bead his brow and blood has started seeping though the tear in his crumbled shirt.

The fabric is clinging wetly to his bicep, but in the mayhem unfolding around him, nobody gives him a second glance.

For the first time, he is thankful at least to be wearing the anonymous uniform dictated by the oppressors.

He reaches the kill me kind of room again and shuts the door behind him.

You were meant to cause suffering and death.

You’re a cosmic mistake.

You were meant to die at the hands of the mad titan.

Lies.

All lies.

Still projected on the wall is the paused image of a lost memory of his unfulfilled fate.

He sees himself, Thor and her on the barren planet with the black soil. The man he never became is lying on the ground, Thor cradling him.

She watches them both in shock.

It resonates in his bones. He has to go there.

He has to reach his brother at this precise, excruciatingly rare moment of heroism. His act of heroism.

Before the scheming and deceit poison their bond once more in an endless loop of disappointment.

In this moment, all is forgiven. Thor will listen and help. A different path will branch.

And he has to go to her.

It is ludicrous, this riddle, yet the truth of it presses hard on his chest.

On the grainy roll of film, he saved her life and her eyes bore into his with such intensity, his acute need still reverberates like an echo between the walls of the kill me kind of room.

The smell of lilacs lingers.

What will happen when he faces his own self on the timeline, he can’t imagine. Also, he gives it little thought at this late stage with universal logic already suspended as it is. Hopefully he can reason with the man he was meant to be.

He has had quite enough of being his own past, present and future selves’ worst enemy.

And so he pushes the buttons on the tempad.

Something is very wrong.

The sky is too blue, the distant sound of waves lapping calmly at a shore is misplaced.

He has emerged from the door onto a quiet gravel road lined with tall grass and low pines. A single, white wooden house stands to his left, surrounded by a lawn dotted with wildflowers. The sun is warm on his back.

This is Midgard, he is sure of it.

How could he shoot past his destination so spectacularly?

He is about to scroll down the list of numbers and names on the tiny screen of the tempad when he notices a man approaching. Old, walking leisurely with a round, short-legged dog much the same white color as the mortal’s own wispy hair.

The latter starts a little when he spots Loki.

And then he does the most unexpected thing and speaks his name.

Loki’s name.

He almost drops the tempad (no! Not again) and the old one grins good-naturedly. “Hold on to your fancy phone there. Far away, were we?”

Loki only just about stops himself from shaking the man by his shoulders. His fists clench uncontrollably.

“What year is this?! How do you know my name?”

His voice sounds shrill, feverish, and unsurprisingly the eyes in the lined face before him go wide with puzzlement and … something else.

“Loki, what on Earth? Are you quite alright?”

Shock washing over him, Loki staggers back. H-how?

But the man is closing the gap between them, oozing concern. “Have you - are you drunk?” he asks incredulously.

He reaches out.

What is happening?

Loki shies away from the touch, his mind spinning.

Forcibly gathering his composure, he straightens and wills his words to come out steady. “No, I’m okay. Apologies. A bad joke”.

He smiles reassuringly. It takes more effort than parting an ocean.

The dog is sniffing insistently at his ankles.

The man looks him over with suspicion but the worry is subsiding. “Okay, then… no harm, no foul. You know, sometimes these peculiar ‘jokes’ of yours can make a neighbor all kinds of slightly worried”.

Neighbor?

“Most understandably, won’t happen again. Sorry to have bothered you”. Loki cuts him off smoothly. “Have a nice day”. He nods and turns before hysteria can creep into his voice.

“In case you need it for your punchline, the year is 2016”, the man calls over his shoulder as he shuffles away, pulling the reluctant dog after him.

Loki’s blood runs cold. 2016. Oh, this is so wrong. Three years wrong.

Did he hit another button at the last minute? He had been clutching the tempad so hard the edges cut into his fingers.

He curses his own impatience. Tech savvy indeed.

Holding up the blasted piece of TVA wizardry, he tries to enter a new series of numbers when his name rings out again.

And again, he almost jumps. But this time, his heart stays in his throat.

“Loki? What are you doing out here? I’ve been looking all over for you”.

Her voice reaches him from the porch of the white house. She is skipping lightly down the steps, the screen doors left open behind her. Music drifts into the garden from somewhere inside.

She is crossing the lawn. He is no longer breathing.

Her long auburn hair is tied back in a ponytail, and she is wearing a light blue summer dress. Her feet are bare.

Absurdly, he notes that she looks more tanned than the last time he saw her through the visor of the destroyer in the desert. A year and a lifetime ago. To him.

His grip on whatever reality he’s been clinging to since New York is seriously faltering.

She is beaming. He cannot move a muscle.

She comes all the way up to him and without pause wraps her slender arms around his neck. He can feel the warmth of her body through his shirt, smell the perfume of her skin. She smells of … -

“Where did you go, handsome?” She smiles playfully.

“Pepper called earlier to say that she actually got Tony out of the door on time, if you can believe it, so they’ll be here any minute. And her and I agreed that you two hotheads are going to play nice tonight, okay?”

She is teasing him but he hardly understands the words she’s saying. It makes no sense.

And then, before he can begin to form a response, she stands on tiptoes and kisses him and the world falls away.

Reflexively, he puts his arms around her, drawing her close to him. She moans happily. He leans into the kiss, not knowing what he’s doing other than that he never wants to stop.

Her mouth is soft and warm and new and familiar all at the same time, and the way her fingers curl in his hair sends electricity shooting down his spine.

It should be all anguish and tragic confusion, like before in the castle beyond time, but it is not.

It feels more right that anything he can remember since before his fall from the Bifrost, more real and yet more magical than his recent journeys into mystery.

Then it’s over all too soon and she draws away.

His arms are suddenly much too empty and he almost reaches for her again, craving her touch.

For a fleeting heartbeat, his soul had no longer felt torn apart to the point of forgetting he’d ever been whole.

The chaos had crumbled in on itself like a bad dream.

He is surprised he still knows what peace of mind feels like after what has happened to him since arriving at the TVA.

But now she looks at him with alarm in those beautiful brown eyes and he is crudely reminded that he is an intruder in her reality.

What she thought she saw, she clearly no longer recognizes.

It takes him all of three stupidly long seconds to remember that she said his name. That he’s wearing his own face and not a disguise.

That she knew him immediately, just like the old man.

She kissed him.

Too many impossible possibilities and the thunderous sound of his own heartbeat (surely she can hear it too) blur his vision.

He’s only vaguely aware that he is stepping towards her, trying to say something without the faintest idea of what’s going to come out of his mouth.

If it’ll even be words.

Her eyes dart over his clothes, his face.

“Loki, what - Why are you dressed like that? Have you been gone? Is that … blood?”

She retreats further, fear building.

“Jane, I-“

Her name rolls of his tongue with a sweet-tasting intimacy like he has said it a thousand times before.

But he doesn’t get to dwell on this, nor gather his thoughts to say anything else before something abruptly lifts him off the ground and hurls his body across the road.

“How dare you touch her, beast?!”

Immediately as his back connects with the rough gravel, someone is there, a knee pushing him down, fingers closing around his throat. A sharp object presses against his chin.

There is a dangerous, unhinged growl as his attacker breathes hotly in his ear. “You will die for this!”

The man is strong and somehow blocking Loki’s own magic, but he still manages to twist his head -

And looks right up into his own eyes, nearly black with rage.

“Speak! What are you??”

The man with a face exactly like his presses the tip of his blade closer to Loki’s left eye. “You will show yourself right now or -“

Gathering his magic tightly around him (focus!), Loki pushes back, hard.

With a surge of energy, their bodies are separated, and the other version of him lands heavily in the middle of the road some meters away.

Both of them are on their feet with the fluid movements of two panthers ready to pounce, the other now in full armor.

He has to leave, right now, even if means leaving her which is a catastrophe that might either kill him or make him try to kill his other self if he stays here another minute.

This timeline is clearly not his own.

It cannot be.

Arm outstretched to ward off his furious twin with a shield of magic, he tries to work the tempad with one hand.

“Well, well, what do we have here?”

A booming voice above their heads.

“You know, when Jane pressed the panic button just now, I thought we had an actual emergency. Not that you were preparing a little dinner show for us, Reindeer Games. Gotta be honest though, this doppelgänger stunt was never my favorite -“

“Stark!”

The variant - for he must be a variant - angrily interrupts the man in the metal suit hovering in the air.

Of course, Loki remembers him all too clearly.

What has it been, less than a week since he threw him, or a version of him, out the window of the glass tower?

“This is not my creation”, the variant hisses with venom dripping from every word. “I caught him assaulting Jane. Kissing her”.

“What?!”

Stark focuses all his attention (and one of his iron fists) on Loki. A metallic humming rises steadily from inside the suit.

“A man on a suicide mission then. Boy, did you smooch the wrong wizard’s baby-mama. He may look all domesticated and cute now, but I assure you he’s still all kinds of crazy. In fact-”.

“Hey!”

“What?”

“I know it’s asking a lot, of you in particular, Stark, but could we possibly save the personal insults till we have dealt with this right here?”

Wait, just wait.

Damn it, he can’t tap in the destination on the tempad without looking at it.

Green smoke is swirling around the hands of his other self. He knows what’s coming.

“This is your last warning, devil! I will not have you hiding behind my face as I -“

“This is my face! I’m you, you fool! Bigger things are at large here and-“ Loki falters, his silver tongue failing once more with rising predictability within what seems a disconcertingly short period of time.

Although he honestly can’t tell anymore.

“Please, take a minute -“

He can’t help but shout, sounding hopelessly desperate.

In another life, he might have felt humiliated, but letting pride dictate his emotions is no longer a luxury he can afford to indulge.

Still, the silence that follows his outburst is not nearly as long as he needs it to be.

The variant stares blankly at him, mouth slightly ajar, but Stark recovers easily, his voice now icy.

“Yeah, dude, that one might have worked better if you’d put on a clean shirt. Time to fess up real quick or we’ll have to-“

Drawing what might become his last breath, Loki looks away and down at the tempad. He presses the button. No more time to double check.

“What the?!”

Both Stark and the variant visibly flinch as the door appears.

He quickly makes for it. “I - I’m sorry. Truly, I am”. He looks to their stunned faces before turning to his exit.

Out of the corner of his eye, he registers the variant move (he has to be a variant). His mouth twists in an ugly snarl and two familiar daggers are appearing by his sides.

Before the door snaps completely shut, Loki sees Jane run up to the man and grab his arm.

“Love, no, don’t!”

He sees the slight bump under her dress that he didn’t notice before.

And then the scene disappears and he’s gone.

Part III

#loki #loki series #tva loki #loki laufeyson #lokane ff #lokane fanfic #lokane #jane foster #loki x jane #loki fic

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

98. I’ve been hired to kill you, but you don’t seem that concerned???

Super/vigilante/mercenary au? I feel like it would be really cool if one of them has known the other’s secret identity for a while but doesn’t have anything against them. The two have also been becoming /close/ friends with mutual pining, so the hit is actually just a good excuse to reveal their identity before asking them out. Indruck, nsfw, please!

Here you go! I tried to work in as much of this as I could

Content warning for mentions of guns and mentions of death

It’s a dark and stormy night, because of course it fucking is.

Indrid steers the borrowed car down the street, rain hammering the car while his heart tries chiseling it’s way from his chest. He doesn’t want to be here, circling the block like a shark on a reef, the light from the top floor, left corner of the apartment building telling him there’s no pretending his prey isn’t home. He doesn’t want to think about the instructions he burned, the lethal object hidden in his clothes.

He doesn’t want to kill Duck Newton.

“Excuse me, but I have a rather odd question; which of these trails is the least traveled?”

The ranger looks up from the map between them, grin friendly and a little lopsided, “Lookin to do some birdwatchin or somethin?”

“I like to draw but I, ah, I also get easily overwhelmed by crowds.”

“Try this one” The man circles a trailhead, “not super popular this time of year. Watch out for mud.”

“I shall, thank you.”

He didn’t.

Which is why he’s back in the visitor center, trying to get enough of the mud off so that driving home isn’t miserable. Worse, the ranger from earlier walks in, takes one look at him, and snickers.

“I tried! Truly, I was careful, but there was this-”

“Patch of stones in the trail?”

“...Yes. How did you know?”

“Fell flat on my ass two days ago thanks to them. Wait here a sec.” The door swings shut, then opens again while Indrid is rinsing mud from his glasses. The ranger holds out a packet of body wipes, “this’ll get the worst of it.”

“Thank you ranger...Newton.”

That same smile, reaching a pair of mismatched eyes, “Just call me Duck. It’s a nickname.”

Indrid parks in a spot far from any streetlights or cameras, pulls the hood of his sweatshirt over his head and starts towards the apartment complex.

��These are fascinating.” Indrid peers over the edge of the dock at the early blooming bulbs.

“Glad you like ‘em, thought they might be alley after you showed me those drawings of the marsh.”

He imagines Duck seeing the flowers on his rounds and thinking not of the seasons, the weather, the way their petals look near the water, but of him. It’s the sweetest thought anyone’s ever spared for him.

The lobby door opens easily, courtesy of the copy of the keycard left in his mailbox. He knows he should take the stairs; fewer people use them.

He calls the elevator.

“Duck? The sign on the door is, that’s just temporary right?”

“Nope.” Duck sets his hat on the counter, runs a hand right through the grey streak in his hair, “they’re closin the whole park until further notice, which is probably gonna be never. Laid all of us off.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“S’okay.”

Even Indrid could tell it wasn’t. That from their occasional conversations, Duck’s work was akin to his heart, kept life flowing through him on even the roughest days. The assignment had told him not to worry, that he was almost doing his target a favor, ending a life he wanted over anyway.

Indrid knocks on the door, tossing his options about in his mind as slow footsteps approach. He could do what he was sent here for. Or he could offer Duck Newton something to brighten his days.

The door opens, Duck standing there in boxers, a plain white t-shirt, and a confused expression.

“Indrid? Jesus, come in, you're fuckin soaked. This is some storm.”

“At least it will help with the drought.” Indrid closes the door, slips off his shoes, lets Duck take his sweatshirt to hang near the heater, angling his body so he won’t see or feel the handgun tucked in his waistband.

“Yeah. Assumin it don’t just mudslide all the hills that lost their cover durin fire season.” Duck sighs, plops down on the couch, “sorry, ain’t exactly in a chipper mood.”

“That’s sort of why I came to see you. I, ah, I wanted to see how you were getting on after the park closing.”

Duck gestures to the messy apartment, then at himself.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Not unless you got enough money to reopen the park indefinitely.”

He chuckles, “I wish I did.” He picks up a small, wooden ship, “goodness, did you make this?”

“Yep. Know it’s an old man hobby but, uh, I dunno. I just like makin stuff. Putting things into the world, even if it’s just a model ship on the shelf or a mint plant on the windowsill.” His smile is tired, but there’s a determination to it that makes up Indrid’s mind for him. He’s about to make his offer when Duck adds, “mind grabbin me some water since you’re closer to the kitchen? Cups are in the middle cabinet.”

“Of course.” Indrid crosses into the small kitchen, mind wandering to what their first date will entail as he sets his hands on two glasses.

The cold metal at the base of his neck hurtles him back to earth.

“Someone set you up, slim.”

“I, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Duck’s hand goes instantly to Indrid’s gun, pulling it free and tossing it away before roughly patting him up and down. The barrel on his skin never wavers.

“Duck, please, I, I can explain.”

“No need to. Thought you seemed familiar, went diggin and found out who you work for. Bet you thought I hadn’t seen your nine mil, but I ain’t lived this long by bein careless.”

“I don’t understand. The file they gave me didn’t say anything about this.”

A bitter chuckle, “Wasn’t always a ranger, slim. The fact they didn’t tell you that makes me think they’re hopin I off you, not the other way around.”

“But, but I didn’t do anything.” The crack in his voice is why he was never cut out for this, he told them that, over and over again.

“And you ain’t gonna.”

“Duck please I, I wasn’t going to do what they told me.”

“If your bosses are who I think, then helpin me would be a goddamn death wish on your part.”

“It would have been worth it. One date with you would have been worth whatever they did to me if they caught me after I ran.”

“That’s mighty funny” the barrel disappears, and the ghost of a kiss takes it’s place, “I was busy weighing whether askin you out was worth the risk of gettin shot.”

Duck sets the Glock on the counter as Indrid slumps against it, turning to find the ranger watching him carefully.

“What do we do now?” He sort of wants him to kiss him, sort of wants to storm out and find whoever thought he could be gotten rid of so easily.

“I say we-” Duck freezes as three, sharp knocks come from the door. He crouches to the floor, Indrid following him. The ranger grabs Indrid’s gun from the floor, whispers, “stay put, follow my lead.” Then he calls, “who is it?”

“I have a package for you to sign for, Mr. Newton.”

“Be right there. Actually” he lowers his voice slightly, “uh, Indrid, you’re right by the door, could you-”

The shot breaks the wood right where Indrid’s head would be. Duck fires two shots, both of them sighing when there’s a tell-tale thump of body meeting carpet.

“Glad yours had the silencer. Buys us some time, but someone is bound to come outta their apartment eventually and find the fucker.”

“Our hitmen also have to report completion within a certain time frame or back-up is sent. And no, I can’t do it for him, it has to be voice contact.” Indrid stands, calmer than a moment ago; this part he knows.

“Good to know. In that case, slim,” he raises an eyebrow, “think it’s time you and I take a vacation.”

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

“You really got no clue what they’re after you for?” Duck winds them along highway 50 as the sun peers anxiously over the horizon.

“None.” Indrid fishes out the roll of mini doughnuts he bought near Donner Lake, the first place Duck had deemed safe to stop since they left the coast. They’re in his car, Indrid knowing full well the one he borrowed has a tracking device installed, “I’m mostly a numbers man; they give me scenarios and I give them likely outcomes. I, ah, I also helped with clean up, but I suspect they did that when they were annoyed I’d given them what they thought was an inaccurate prediction. I don’t like the aftermath of disasters, even if they’re small. And I was never, ever assigned a hit until last night” He worries a hangnail, “I thought they were satisfied with my work. Even if they weren’t, they could easily do away with me. There was no point in sending me on a fake mission and hoping you’d kill me instead.”

“Unless they got something against me too, which they could.” Duck drums on the wheel, “I, uh, I joined a, uh, guess you’d call ‘em a vigilante group when I was younger. I was eighteen and they recruited me, sayin how there were certain folks who were chosen to protect the world from evil. I avoided it for a few years, but they were persistent, and honestly I thought I could make a difference. That we were just protectin folks who the system didn’t. And we did. Kinda.”

Indrid offers him a doughnut, which he takes and chews before continuing

“Trouble was, not everyone agreed on who needed protectin. It got so convoluted and so goddamn dangerous that I decided I wanted out. Wanted to spend the rest of my life makin things grow, lookin out for the woods, that kinda thing. It almost worked. But if I could go back in time to talk to that kid, I’d tell ‘im there are enemies you can’t unmake, things you can’t undo.”

“Very true.” Indrid murmurs, “I suppose I’d tell myself I did not blame him for throwing in with who he had to in order to survive.”

“Pretty sure that’s what you’re doin’ now, too.”

“No.” Indrid shakes his head, “right now I am on the run with someone I like a great deal.”

Duck flashes him a smile, flips the blinker to turn them into the only sign of civilization for miles; a cluster of buildings calling itself Cold Springs Station. The groggy teen at the counter gives them the key to a cramped cabin.

Indrid tosses his bag--the one he hid in the trunk of the borrowed car, knowing the likely outcome of his visit would involve flight of some kind--down on the right side of the bed, Duck doing the same on the left. It’s only when they’re under the covers, both half-asleep, that he notices he forgot something.

“Drat. I meant to stick something plush in my bag. I, ah” he blushes, “I sleep much better with something to cuddle.”

A strong arm drapes over his waist while Duck tucks his head under Indrid’s head, “how’s that?”

Indrid winds his limbs around him, feeling like a little kid who’s just had his favorite teddy bear returned to him after hours of tearful searching, “perfect.”

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

The plan is to weave through the Southwest like a drunk bee before turning North; they need to put off visiting any places with friends or family for as long as they can. They spent a morning on the floor of a run down motel with a map and some pens, marking off the safest routes and places they’d like to visit. Duck picks state parks, Indrid any place likely to have lots of sweet food.

Whenever they stop for the night, they never bother asking for two beds. While they’ve yet to go further, Indrid delights in waking Duck with a kiss on the cheek each morning.

On the Nevada border Indrid spends two hours playing Blackjack, counting cards enough to win several thousand dollars but not enough to get caught. In a pizza place outside of Salt Lake, Duck wins Indrid a stuffed mothman from a claw machine (“just in case you gotta sleep alone some time”).

And fifty miles from Alamogordo, they get into trouble.

Indrid carries his weapon near constantly, but he really didn’t think he needed it at the Motel 6 Breakfast Buffet. When the man waiting for the waffle maker next to him says “outside, Cold, let’s get this over with” he goes still, wishing they’d at least given him time to eat.

Then he hurls his scalding mocha into the man’s face, striking him in the ribs and breaking his nose before he even hits the floor. Orange and red liquid splashes his face, two shots hitting the juice dispenser behind him. The other two assassins don’t get a second chance to fire; Duck takes out one with a chair, jabs the other with the splintered leg, and gathers both their guns with an ease that Indrid admires.

As they’re sprinting for the parking lot, Indrid slapping an extra two hundred dollars on the lobby desk in apology, he realizes admiration doesn’t quite capture his feelings. Duck is so calm in the face of danger, so commanding, and so very, very...hot.

The moment he allows himself that thought is the moment he dooms his focus for the remainder of the day. He contributes to the planning of their next stop, to driving and watching the mirror for cars that follow for too long, but his mind is back in the dining room, hoping Duck will turn the fire in his eyes onto Indrid, bend him over the beige table and take him while the people who tried to hurt them whimper and bleed on the floor.

“‘Drid? I’m gonna go shower, didn’t get a chance this mornin. You wanna scope out dinner?”

“Of course, but I fear it might be the vending machine special again.”

“Eh, I can live with that, especially if they got those Oreo packets.” Duck blows him a kiss and shuts the bathroom door.

Duck’s showers are between five and six minutes in length; Indrid’s certain he can get himself off in that time. He slips his pajama pants down, spits in his hand, and pretends the fingers pressing on his neck are not his own. That Duck’s voice is in his ear the same way it was that first night, low and so firm Indrid has no choice but to bend.

“You droppin hints, slim?” Duck leans in the bathroom doorway, towel around his waist.

He bolts upright, pants tangled around his knees, “Nono, I’m, I’m so sorry, I thought you were going to be a few minutes more.”

“Wanted to shave and forgot my dop kit. Now I’m kinda disappointed that I was gonna miss the show.”

“I, ah, I, it doesn’t bother you?”

“Thought we established we were into each other.” Duck’s smile falters, “wait, fuck, if you decided you ain’t I’ll back the fuck off.”

“No!” Indrid crawls to the edge of the bed nearest Duck, not caring how silly he must look, “it’s the opposite, I want you even more now than I did when we started this trip. After this morning I--ah, never mind. The point is, I would very much like to get you into bed sooner rather than later.”

“How about now?”

“Only if you…” Indrid’s brain screeches to a stop as Duck drops his towel. Now he understands where the urge to create phallic sculptures comes from; he wants to preserve this sight for all time.

“Glad you approve.” Duck chuckles, joins him on the bed, “gotta say the, uh, feelin’s mutual.” He slides a hand along Indrid’s dick, gone soft from his alarm, and lets out an approving groan as it hardens against his palm, “that’s it, sugar, get excited for me.”

“If I get any more excited I will explode.”

“Can’t have that, it’s a pain to clean blood off of walls by yourself” a kiss finds his cheek, “you got a preference for how we do this?”

“I, I’d like to, ah, receive. At least for tonight. Is that alright?”

“Hell yeah.” Duck growls, abandoning him on the bed and laughing when he whines, “gimme two seconds, slim, then I’ll take care of you.” Two condoms and a small bottle of lube bonk into Indrid’s foot, “packed those just in case. You’re gonna get one of ‘em out and open yourself up for me while tellin me just what got you so riled up. Shirt off, c’mon, get to it.”

The gruff tone means Indrid is blushing on every inch of skin by the time he’s fully naked. As Duck’s gaze moves over him, all traces of dominance wash away, leaving expression tender when their eyes finally meet.

“Christ, ‘Drid, you look better than ever coulda pictured. Shoulda been bookin more places with pools just to get you shirtless.”

“It’s January, dear.”

“Hot tubs, then.” Duck nudges him onto his back by kissing his shoulder, and the sight of the ranger above him reminds Indrid’s fingers what they should be doing. He fumbles the condom open, gasps when one digit feels like a massive intrusion.

“Easy slim, easy, you’re probably still tense from this mornin.”

“I thought that much was obvious.” Indrid grins as Duck bends to kiss his collarbone.

“It is, so start tellin me what got you so horny you jerked off the first free second you had.”

“It’s a, a bit embarrassing OH, ohthat'snice” he sighs as Duck kisses a slow trail towards his hips, “but I find the moments when you demonstrate a certain...ruthlessness in-incredibly arousing.” He wiggles his hips happily as Duck drags his lips across his belly.

“Keep goin.”

“You’re brave, and calm even when things are awful, and that makes me feel so very safe with you. But then there are those times when I remember how dangerous you could be, AHnnn” the second finger goes in easier than the first, “that when it, it comes down to it you are more seasoned in lethal matters than I am and I, you could render me utterly helpless, have me, use me, hurt me, but instead you offer me more tenderness than I deserve.” He glances down to where Duck’s chin rests on his chest, the ranger’s eyes overflowing with affection.

“You want the gentle me or the rough one tonight?” Duck tucks a strand of Indrid’s silver hair behind his ear.

“Rough.” It’s so quiet he’s amazed Duck hears it.

“Okay. In that case-”

“AHgod!” Indrid’s hand is pulled free as Duck first flips him over and then hauls him onto his knees.

“Hands on the wall. Now.”

Indrid sets his palms on peeling grey paint as foil crinkles behind him. When the head of Duck’s cock rubs his entrance he whimpers, hoping the prep was enough.

“Here’s how this is gonna go; I’m gonna use this cute little ass however long and however hard I want, and you;re gonna keep your hands there the whole fuckin time. You move, or you mouth off, and I shove some fingers in along with my dick just to remind you who’s boss.”

“Ohhhhhyes” Indrid rests his forehead on the wall.

“It gets to be too much, say stop.” A kiss to his neck, “much as I wanna ruin you, wanna be good to you even more.”

“Understood. Now please, please fuck meEEEh, ohgoodnessAH, ahhhgod.” He scratches the wall as Duck stretches him open, the prep proving enough but only just and tears pricking his eyes by the time Duck bottoms out.

One hand stays on his hip while Duck’s right arm wraps around his chest, keeping them close, “Fuuuck, now I see what your job was; ass this nice, you were the fuckin cocksleeve for the entire Organization, weren’t you?”

“Not at all” Indrid rolls his hips at the taunt in Duck’s voice, “I was a very valuable asset.”

“Yeah, I’ll say you’re an asset.” A sharp thrust, the menace of which is broken by Duck giggling at his own joke, Indrid hiding his face in his arm to do the same.

“I say in, ahgod, an office all day, no one saw me, I was not h-hired for my looks, I promise you.”

“If you say so. I say it’s their. Fuckin. Loss.” Three thrusts and Indrid’s cock is dripping onto the pillows, and he moans as Duck settles into a demanding rhythm.

“Got another theory for you, slim.”

“D-do tell.” Whether the stammering is from his teeth clacking together or his thoughts being bounced around his brain from the force of Duck pounding into him, he can’t say.

“I think you stuck around as long as you did because you get off on it danger.”

Indrid sucks in a breath, whimpers, “No. I, I was there because I was apprenticed out and, as you knowOH it’s, it’s hard to leave such places.”

Fingers on his throat, pressing but not squeezing, “Liar. Bet you got off at least once a day, let everyone from the hired hits to higher ups cum in you as long as they made you think they could off someone. Oh fuck, heh, you like that?” Duck smirks as Indrid tries to fuck himself in time with the pumps of his hips.

“Yes, goodness, I’d never want it, only want you, but, but the idea is divine.”

“Too bad, because now you’re all mine and anyone who tries to take you is gonna be in for a world of hurt.”

His climax curls in his stomach, begging him to touch himself and free it, but he’s determined to be good.

“Duck, please let me cum, please, it’s so good but I can’t-”

“I’ll help you out sugar, don’t worry. But you gotta do one thing first.” Duck nips his ear, “say you’re my personal toy from now on. C’mon” the fingers on his throat tighten, “say i-”

“I’m yours, I’m your toy, only you can have me, you can do whatever you wish to me and I’ll take it with a smile, anything, sweetheart, please, pleasepleasepleaseAHhhhn.” His cum splatters on the wall, Duck’s hand leaving his dick the instant it does to dig his fingers into both hips and fuck up into him with ecstatic groans.

“That’s it sugar, take it, be good for me and lemme fuck you until you can’t move, ohfuck, fuck, ‘Drid, yes, fuckyes.” He holds him tight as he cums, breath warm against his back. Then he’s pulling out and slumping forward as Indrid falls back into his arms.

“Ooops” he snickers, spotting the cum, “still easier to clean than blood.”

“Indeed.” Indrid bites his lip, “I, that was wonderful but there’s one thing more I would like. Will you kiss me.” He looks over his shoulder to say it. Duck cups his face, turns it so he can bring their lips together. It’s far slower and twice as tender as anything else they’ve done together.

“Can’t believe I forgot to do that until now. Gonna kiss you silly.” Duck kisses him again as Indrid turns in his lap. When he pulls back, his face is serious, “Y’know, it’s easy to be brave and calm when I’m doin’ it for you. You make me feel like I can face any goddamn thing, long as it’s for your sake. That make sense?”

Indrid studies his face in the half-shaded light from the bedside lamp, sees the curves and colors, sees the man he was willing to run away for.

“Yes, sweetheart, it does.”

#indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #meet ugly #hitman au #I guess?#assassin au

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lightneverfades · 3 years

Text

That Damned Gazebo

Frostiron Holiday Wishes Challenge ❆ 🎅🎄 Prompt by @snarkyship Fic written by @worstloki Note: AH! So sorry this is a late post, tumblr messed up and I didn’t receive this on Xmas day! Ah! Thank you @worstloki for resending! TwT <3333

Wish (Prompt/Idea): Human/no powers AU. Sort-of-enemies to friends to lovers.Tony rents this house/bungalow by the sea for the summer, with a kind of private beach where there is also a cute gazebo. Only that the gazebo is exactly halfway with the other property (by some mistake?). And the tenant of the neighbour bungalow is Loki, who's not so keen on sharing. So Loki&Tony will start a "war" to gain possession of the gazebo, doing their worst using the excuse of "this is my half, I can use it as I want". ((Optional: there is a table right in the middle, so at the beginning they sit at their own side glaring at each other, before starting deploying more convoluted tactics)).Mischief after mischief, they will start to know each other and of course everything will end with one of them inviting the other to their half for a romantic dinner and they'll end up sharing more than the gazebo <3((I hope it's enough clear and but also not too detailed??))

Stupid cute bungalow. Stupid cute gazebo. Stupid cute neighbour.

All Tony wanted was a vacation; a break from running a business and having to argue for his ideas to get accepted by the marketing teams and just some time to lay low and relax.

All Loki wanted was a break from being upstaged in his section of the family business by his brother; some time off to cool down and de-stress and lay low and relax.

But instead only half their regular favourite beach house was available no matter how much cash they offered to throw at the real estate company renting it out. Could they have picked a different place to stay? Maybe. But none of the other decent rentables this far west have a gazebo, and they would have nowhere to sit alone and admire the waves from afar if they took a place without one.

And, of course, that’s where it all started— that gazebo.

That damned gazebo.

———

Day 1

Tony Stark, genius, entrepreneur, philanthropist, makes his way unsteadily down the sandy-grassy slope from the bungalow to the beach, arms filled with an excessive amount of floating supplies, a personalized towel, sunglasses only half on, a fun-sized bottle of the finest sun lotion, a laptop because he may leave the stock market but the stock market may not leave him, a black Prada shirt over khaki Hawaiian shorts, a speaker for music, hot-rod red flip flops, a bag of snacks, a thin multipurpose blanket, and a polaroid.

He almost slips a few times on his way down, and he thinks he sees a crab and swears, but he does make it down to the brilliant white-sand beach of Malibu unharmed.

His plan is simple: spend the day in the shade of the wooden gazebo, sneak a peek at how his business is holding up, check his emails, play some Tetris, sunbathe around noon when the sun is highest, back under the shelter till the sun starts going down, into the water for some splashing, drying off as the sun sets, listen to some tunes while laying under the stars for a while.

Just a regular day off at his favourite beach.

He walks to the shaded gazebo area and draws the curtain to enter, and dumps the entire contents within his arms over the table in the center. He turns to open up the curtains on all sides but is interrupted by an ahem.

Tony turns, and, in the curtained darkness, makes out the figure of a person.

He must be the one who booked out the other half of the house, Tony thinks, eying the stranger sitting at the opposite end of the table with only a book and bottle of water. Show-off minimalists, Tony thinks, saltily.

“I would prefer if you didn’t open those,” he says, and Tony doesn’t recognize the accent, but there definitely is one. Maybe it’s a blend?

“But what’s the point of sitting under a gazebo on a beach if you can’t see the view?” Tony asks, pulling one open, letting in some light.

The man practically hisses at Tony for doing it, which, okay, weird, but that’s normal when you’re assaulted with bright light and have been sitting in the dark.

“How were you reading in the dark anyway? Don’t you know it’s bad for your eyes?”

“I assure you I was able to read just fine.”

“Yeah… I’m opening the rest of these too…” Tony says, reaching for the curtain by the other side.

“Not if you wish to share this table, you won’t,” the man threatens.

“Are you… trying to bribe me?” Tony asks, shocked, because who does this guy think he is?

“Compromise with,” the man has the gall to say. “And with table space, yes,” and Tony sputters. What can he even say to this. He’s here for a vacation, not to argue with strangers who are taking up half the gazebo space that should be his!

“Half,” Tony suggests, because he will not sit in the dark all day and miss out on his beach-view just so he gets to use the table. “You get half of this space, and I get the other half, and we can do whatever we want on our sides.”

The man sighs. “Fine. That sounds fair.”

The two of them spend the entire rest of the day sitting at opposite sides of the table pretending they’re not intentionally glaring and making crazy faces and trying to telepathically get rid of the other when they’re not looking.

Tony doesn’t comment on how the man barely gets any reading done and the man in turn doesn’t comment on how much equipment Tony brought down that he doesn’t use at any point in favour of using the laptop to retain his spot under the gazebo.

Schedule be damned, Tony is going to enjoy his vacation, and that means enjoying his duplex bungalow, even if someone else is renting half, and enjoying his gazebo that may be in-between the properties and they both may be paying for but is 100% actually his.

They wait each other out, and both head up to their houses at the same time; around midnight.

———

Day 2

Loki wakes at his usual time, showers, pointedly gets dressed into anything but the black shirt he has that matches what the man had on yesterday, and grabs his book before he heads down to the beach.

Having to share the same table was, simply put, incredibly awkward, but Loki has faith in it not happening again. He’s just going to make his way down to the gazebo and spend the day relaxing and rereading his favourite series without a pretentious-bearded neighbour showing up and making things weird.

“YOU!” Loki hears, and turns to find the same man from yesterday rushing down the slope towards him, “WHY ARE YOU UP AT THIS TIME?!”

Loki takes in the sight of the man dressed in a half-buttoned-up hawaiian shirt and pajama pants, with only a laptop and towel in hand, hair clearly fresh from bed, and, before he thinks better of it, counters eloquently with, “why are you half dressed?”

The man waves his arms in frustration, “I was tired! And in a rush! You don’t get to judge me, you’re the other f*ck who woke up this early!”

“I… normally get up this early…” Loki informs him, backing away slowly.

He can’t believe he’s going to have to deal with this guy again.

At least his sweatshirt has a green hood so he can block the guy out of his sight, right? He won’t spend the entire day rereading paragraphs because the man at the other end of the table is making him feel anxious, right? Surely the man is bringing the towel to lay in the sand which means he won’t be needing the gazebo, right?

Loki literally booked this bungalow because it’s in Malibu, and no one pays for a place like this in Malibu when you can rent a lower quality place and spend the money on beach parties and drinks. The fact that it’s far enough from home to make him feel safer was a bonus, but he really just wanted to be alone for a few days.

Loki takes a seat, and crosses one leg over the other, getting comfy so he can lean the book on the table. He tries not to get annoyed that the curtains are still parted halfway. He wouldn’t mind if the ones on his side were open too, but at this point he’s not acquiescing a point to the stranger.

The man pulls the wooden chair out and sits down opposite him.

Of course he does.

Why wouldn’t he.

“So you’re really going to keep reading in the dark?” he says, flipping open his laptop.

“Yep, and that suits me just fine, thank you,” Loki answers neutrally.

“Does my no-light-reading-neighbour have a name?”

“Do you?”

“Tony.”

“Loki.”

“Nice to meet you, Loki,”

“Thank you.”

Loki uses his bookmark to flip to his page, and starts reading. He will not get distracted by this Tony. It’s totally normal to share this table. It’s not huge, but it’s built for at least six, so there’s space. Maybe not enough to lay on, but it’s enough distance to ignore the clicking of Tony’s keyboard as he frantically presses keys.

Loki is two hours into enjoying his reading time, and he thinks he was doing well.

He’d smiled every time Tony yawned because with eye-rubbing and deep sighs that man was not used to getting up early, but he’d actually gotten through nearly three chapters without incident.

Then, the infuriating man had plunked a speaker onto the table and started playing AC/DC.

Now he’s reread this one line at least fourteen times and still doesn’t know what the red-head was doing with Jon.

“Why?” Loki asks, “Why must you do this? You can see me reading, you’re blocking out the distant sound of waves hitting the shore, it’s not even at a decent volume, so, why?!”

“Sorry, what was that?” Tony answers, “Did you say something? Because I couldn’t hear you over the music, but it sounded like you had an issue with what I was doing on my side.”

“Your music is not staying on your side!” Loki argues, but only receives a shrug and an increase in volume.

He presses his lips together.

Fine. If you’re going to be petty about this, then I can too.

Under the table, Loki kicks Tony.

He hasn’t got shoes on, but he’s always had a knack for aiming very well, and Tony’s whimper (?) (it’s hard to tell with the music so loud) assures him he hit the shin bone well enough.

By the time Tony is done cradling his leg and looks up at Loki with a mix of anger/betrayal, Loki is already reading again, the perfect image of serenity.

Loki tries not to laugh as Tony discovers his legs are not long enough to kick back.

———

Day 3

Tony didn’t bother trying to wake up before Loki this time.

He went at his own pace, and remembered to change out of the pajamas, brushed his hair, had coffee, and took the time to make himself a few sandwiches to enjoy through the day.

Yesterday he even went for a quick swim around ten at night and headed straight back up to his side of the bungalow, because he’s a responsible adult who doesn’t need to out-do a stranger’s sleep-schedule. Or leg-length. Or laugh.

It isn’t a competition or anything.

By the time he makes it down to the beach, he finds Loki sitting under the gazebo, alone, with all the curtains tied open.

He’s also... wearing a black Prada shirt which matches the one Tony threw on this morning?? What?! Taking up half the space on his side of the table with 1 (one) bottle of water wasn’t enough, he also has to taunt him by wearing the exact same thing?!

He storms to his side of the gazebo and slams his palms down, taking satisfaction in the fact that Loki was startled and drops his book onto the table. Tony hopes he’s lost the page he was on.

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Hello, neighbour,” Loki greets, gingerly picking up his book again and giving a hesitant smile. “I didn’t realise you would be wearing the same shirt again, but I was hoping we could get off on a different foot today?”

Huh, well, would ya look at that, Tony thinks, I actually won. The sucker is gonna admit I’m too much and wave the white flag.

“That... actually sounds great,” Tony answers with his award-winning client-smile, sitting down opposite him. “This whole thing with splitting the table and curtains in half was a bit ridiculou—”

Tony yelps and stands up and starts frantically rubbing his hand over his butt which is stinging— he looks down at his seat and sees the culprit —a crab, menacing in all it’s crabby glory.

“Are you... okay?” Loki asks, far too confused, far too innocently, far too worried for it to be genuine, “what’s wrong?”

Tony, outraged, yells at Loki, “DID YOU FRICKIN PUT A CRAB IN MY SEAT?!”

“I— what?”

“WHO THE F*CK CALLS A PARLEY AND CRABS SOMEONE?!”

“No! I didn’t— are you okay??” Loki says, and he’s gotten up and rushing over and...okay, MAYBE he didn’t mastermind the crab.

“NO, I AM NOT, BUT THANK YOU FOR ASKING,” Tony screams, backing away from Loki, and running towards his bungalow.

Running in sand is hard, but Tony discovers it’s much harder when your butt is stinging.

———

Loki… did not put a crab on Tony’s seat.

He’d honestly wanted to draw up a truce, maybe have an actual conversation with Tony, and he even brought a towel and wore a change of clothes underneath in the event that the man wanted to go for a swim and wouldn’t mind if Loki joined.

He’d even brought snacks to share.

But now he feels bad.

Had kicking him under the table every time Tony had put the volume too loud or managed to slide low enough to kick him back or played We're Taking the Hobbits to Isengard been bad? Had it been too much? Why else would Tony assume he’d actually try and hurt him?

The glare-offs had just been fun, faces when they thought the other couldn’t see wasn’t bad-intentioned, the kicking hadn’t meant to injure. Loki had thought they were getting along. Perhaps he had misunderstood? Perhaps the other had not felt they were fun little pranks?

He owes Tony an apology.

———

Tony has been icing his butt for an hour. If he had any duct tape, he would’ve duct taped the peas to his butt.

Tony is thinking about how if he had any duct tape he would’ve duct taped the peas to his butt by now when someone bangs at his door.

Gee, I wonder who it could be, Tony thinks, as he goes to answer the door. Just so many people who visit this private beach residence. In all honesty it’s kind of sweet that Loki would turn up to check on him at all really.

Tony leaves the pea packet on the nearest counter and goes to answer the door. Good thing about this bungalow: it has many spare counters for things like dumping peas. An excessive amount of counters, even, and he questions what the designer had been thinking.

Tony swings the door open, “Hey there, crab-man.”

“I’m sorry,” Loki blurts.

“Hey, it’s okay, it doesn’t even hurt that much anymore, but at least you’re owning to it.”

“I didn’t set that up! I wouldn’t actually try to cause any lasting damage,” Loki explains.

Tony sighs.

“Yeah, I figured, I was just caught up in the moment and shouldn’t have blamed you.”

“Would’ve been a very Shakespearean betrayal too…” Loki muses.

“So… anything else you came to say?” Tony asks. Although he’s not sure why.

“Would you be feeling up to sharing the table like normal people?”

“Oh, come on, where would be the fun in that?” Tony jokes.

“You… weren’t hurt or offended when I kicked you or said your music taste is dumb?”

“Course not. We’ve all had wild college nights out, believe me, kick to the shins was nothing.”

“Crab grabs though…”

“If you want to share the table like normal people we will not be mentioning the crab grab.”

“Deal,” Loki says, and he’s beaming as if he’s won a prize. Which is really cute. Which is why Tony doesn’t regret slamming the door in his face.

Stupid cute neighbour.

He needs to change anyway.

———

Loki and Tony hang out under the gazebo, and they share the table.

Every so often Loki will read a line or two aloud and Tony will find himself snickering in response to Loki’s comments on the lines if not the lines themselves. Every now and then Tony tells Loki to look over at his screen as he invests in either the stock market or a round of Tetris.

Around noon Tony asks if Loki would like to sunbathe with him and Loki sees no reason not to join in. He doesn’t have any sunscreen of his own but Tony has plenty and is happy to share.

They talk about their work, and what they’re avoiding (family) in their little getaways from home, just things about life generally.

The sun is going to set soon when Loki asks if Tony would like to spend some time by the water with him.

The two of them spend a good thirty minutes hitting each other with floaties when they aren't sitting around in them, and, despite wading in till their knees, and flinging water at each other, they manage not to get too wet.

They sit in the sand watching the sun set in beautiful streaks of purples and orange as they dry off their feet.

Loki brought two towels in case of such a scenario (which Tony finds very endearing and sweet) and they lay on them as they watch the sky darken to reveal the stars. Loki tries to point out some constellations but Tony is convinced he’s making them up. Maybe he is.

The two of them share sandwiches and chips and chocolates and decide to head up early at around nine.

Tony invites Loki over for a movie, and how can Loki say no? He only just met him, but he’d rather be stuck sharing this bungalow and beach and gazebo with him than have to return home in a few days.

The house is huge, and there is plenty of room on the couch for them to be spaced out, but they choose to share a blanket and stay close because they want to.

Loki hadn’t planned on sleeping over, but he stays late and falls asleep in the middle of a movie and Tony doesn’t mind at all. It’s hard for him to mind when he’s also fallen asleep.

———

Day 4

Tony wakes early.

Not Loki-early, but earlier than usual, because he’s looking forward to spending time with Loki.

Hmm. Maybe it is technicallyyy still Loki-early. Whatever.

Except, Tony wakes up alone and walks down the slope to the gazebo, and finds it empty. A quick scan of the beach also yields no results. Which is concerning, but not overly so. Maybe he just has something else to do today?

Tony gets through a few hours by rotating through Tetris, League of Legends, and Galaga, before he gives in and walks up to Loki’s half of the duplex bungalow.

He bangs his fist on the door and waits.

About a minute later, Loki answers, in green-plaid pants and a vintagey AC/DC band shirt, hair looking only half brushed.

“Are you seriously wearing that kind of shirt as pajamas?”

“Yes. And good... morning?”

“Morning!” Tony cheerily greets in return, before his expression gets less so, “why aren’t you out today?”

“Good afternoon? I... just wasn’t feeling too well, a bad day I guess,” Loki explains, which Tony understands. “And I already over-lived my stay with you yesterday, so I thought you could have the gazebo all to yourself today, since I’m not really in a beach mood anyway.”

And that’s a big no in Tony’s book because no he didn’t go too far or over-stay anything and no he doesn’t owe him anything and no in general because Tony liked spending time with him! He’s fun and caring and Tony’s wondering where this guy was for every other vacation he spent here because Tony considers him a friend!

“That’s sweet,” Tony lies, “I’m not really in a beach mood either.”

“Ah. Would you… like to come in?” Loki asks, hesitant.

“Of course buddy, if my friend wants to stay home I’m sticking with him.”

Loki stands aside, letting Tony into the bungalow that he’s used to owning on his own, but, shockingly enough, doesn’t mind sharing anymore.

“Would it be bad to ask what kind of bad mood?” Tony questions, taking a seat by the TV. It’s off and he doesn’t see a remote.

“A bit, yes, but I value the thought,” Loki answers, checking the kitchen cupboards.

“So what were you doing in here all alone without me, beach buddy?”

“Reading.”

Hmm. Tony considers. They did do what he had wanted yesterday.

“Can I join?” Tony inquires, “if you have any spare books, that is.”

“I didn’t know you could read.” Loki says with half-hearted disgust, walking behind the couch to a small bookshelf.

“Harry Potter, you got me,” Tony states in the driest tone, “Ha ha.”

“I’ve got the second Game of Thrones—“

“There’s a book?!”

“And the series hasn’t updated in years.”

“Bummer, hate when they do that, but at least the show ended?”

“Yeah, badly,” Loki points out. “I’ve got the Lord of the Rings trilogy.”

“I thought you didn’t like the hobbits being taken to Isengard,” Tony pouts.

“Not when it’s on loop and happening the sixth time in a row,” Loki says, dropping the book into Tony’s lap roughly.

Yeah, okay, the man isn’t feeling well, maybe he should leave? But Tony doesn’t want to leave him alone if he’s feeling bad either!

Tony opens the book, skipping through the contents and prologue-y pages. He will enjoy the book and he’ll do it while sitting on the opposite side of the couch because if Loki doesn’t want to lay across and tangle their legs under a blanket that’s up to him. Besides, that’s more an afternoon activity, and Tony isn’t tired at all, so he’s sitting up properly. Which contrasts with Loki’s slouchy leaning-into-the-couch.

“You know, if it’s too quiet, or the book doesn’t interest you, you can just watch something, I won’t be offended.”

“Not so fast, crab-man, I’m doing this to have fun and try something you enjoy, because I like spending time with you, and think that’s fair,” Tony states, and oh sh*t Loki looks devastated. Quick, something fun, something fun, “So I will definitely be trying to read it... at least a bit, before I do anything else… because I may vehemently not-like reading, but I do enjoy your company.”

“Okay,” Loki verbosely replies.

Tony tries to figure out what he’s done wrong but Loki’s opened his book up already.

Tony manages to get through the book in about two hours. Which means he didn’t actually read through it, he just tried, and kept skipping to pages further along that looked more interesting. To be fair, there is a lot of exposition and world building that he knows doesn’t matter because it’s not in the movies.

Loki’s been shifting how he’s sitting at twenty minute intervals, but Tony hasn’t moved lest he come off as restless and not loving the book.

“You can put something on,” Loki suggests, having noticed that Tony is done.

“It won’t disturb you?”

“Not if you don’t have it unreasonably high.”

Tony looks around for the remote, and doesn’t see it. “Any idea where the remote is?”

“Eh, it’ll be lying around somewhere. Maybe check the kitchen?”

And so, Tony sets out on a quest to find the remote.

He doesn’t find it.

He looks through every inch of the couch and in every kitchen cupboard but all he finds are pop tarts and pennies.

At some point Loki puts his book aside and decides to watch him look. He’s even smiling a tiny bit which Tony takes for a good sign.

“Hey, so, I couldn’t find the remote.”

“That’s a shame,” Loki says, and he’s definitely smiling, “would be horrible if someone knows where it is.”

“YOU!” Tony says, rounding in on him, depression be damned, he’s been looking everywhere for an hour now! “Where is it?!”

“Wh— why do you think I would know?” Loki says, turning his face away, his arms crossed pretentiously.

“You’re laughing!” Tony says, pointing a finger at him. “I spend ages looking for this legendary remote and find out you’ve been playing me the entire time” —Tony pokes a finger in the center of his chest for emphasis— “and you’re laughing!”

And okay, it’s a little funny, and Loki’s having fun, so Tony huffs a laugh too.

“I’m not laughing,” Loki tries to say flatly, face turned away, as he clearly tries not to laugh.

Tony being Tony does the only respectable thing in this kind of scenario and jumps onto the couch, straddling Loki, so he can turn his face back towards him.

“Where’s the remote!” Tony yells, to no avail, not even a reaction to having sat on his legs. Is Loki even breathing? His smile is clearly becoming harder to hold…

“Tell me where the remote is” — Tony grabs the thick novel Loki had been reading — “or I’ll take out your bookmark!”

“No!!!” Loki says, trying to grab hold of his book. “Not the bookmark!!! That’s my one weakness! Please, no! Anything but the bookmark!!!”

“Don’t make me do it!! Because I will!!”

Loki chuckles.

“Fine, you win, here” —Loki reaches a hand under the pillow behind him, and holds up the remote.

Tony snatches it immediately, and gives Loki a peck on the cheek thanks before getting off and going back to his side of the couch.

If Loki looks a little confused about the quick kiss, it’s gone by the time Tony is done flicking through the channels and decides a nature documentary is something they could both enjoy. When Mr Attenborough mentions otters holding hands when they’re happy and Loki asks if he can hold Tony’s hand of course Tony says yes.

Later, when Loki insists on cooking for the two of them he throws together some instant noodles and adds in carrots and peas and egg and mushrooms, and he asks if Tony would like to share the meal down by the beach, he agrees.

“You sure you’re up for this? I don’t mind eating back in the bungalow, and if you’re feeling uncomfortable I’d rather just go back,” Tony makes clear.

“I don’t actually know why I thought staying home would make me feel any better,” Loki says lightly.

“Hey man, sometimes you’ve just gotta stay home, it happens, don’t worry about it,” Tony consoles, carefully going down the sandy grassy slope to the beach, his huge bowl of noodles held in both hands. It smells great. “Besides, focus on the date for now.”

“This isn’t a date, I just asked you out to the beach to eat some comfort food with me.”

“The very definition of my ideal date,” Tony says, listing, “I was invited, there’s comfort food, we’re both already in our sexy pjs, there’s a beach, I think you’re a great friend and we could be more if you wanted, I’ve got my speaker in case we want some romantic classical music, the sunset will happen soon, what more could I want?”

“We also held hands for ages earlier and you kissed my cheek.” Loki winces, “this is totally a date.”

“Sure is.”

“How did I miss that?”

“If it’s any consolation, I was kidding, but you seem on-board, so… it’s a date?”

“It’s a date,” Loki confirms.

“Noodles on a beach is actually one of my secret fantasies,” Tony says, deadpan.

“Well,” Loki suggests, also deadpan, “there’s plenty of space under the gazebo.”

“Table is kinda obstructive,” Tony points out.

“Only if you’re not creative,” Loki counters.

Tony wriggles his eyebrows, and they both laugh.

———

Loki twists the last of his noodles and stabs his last carrot on his fork and puts it in his mouth. He looks into Tony’s bowl, and finds he’s actually finished first.

“You’re an even slower eater than me,” Loki notes aloud.

“Am not!” Tony blubbers out through a mouthful of noodles, “I’m just taking my time to savour it.”

Loki hums, and puts an elbow on the table to watch him finish up.

“So, what do you want to do now?”

Tony slurps up the rest of his food. “Well, now that I’m done, kiss?”

“I was thinking we could stand by the shoreline and get our feet wet, maybe walk up and down the beach a bit…”

“I mean, I’d rather walk up and down you,” Tony says, making a show of looking over Loki, who in turn snickers.

“I’m sorry, that was terrible,” Tony laughs, “it’s just, walk on the beach, that’s so freakin romantic, yeah I’m up for that.”

And it’s nice knowing that they can still hang out as friends, even if Loki is admittedly also intent on the kissing part.

They leave their bowls and flip flops in a pile in the sand and walk to the shore together.

Tony’s hand is warm in his as they swing their arms gently and just take in the salty air and talk about things; just facts about themselves and stories about life and things they like.

Loki’s not sure how much time has passed but it’s dark and only the night sky and it’s reflection on the water provide any light when he presses a hand under Tony’s chin to tip his face up so he can kiss him. It’s slow and sweet, and Tony— even though Loki finds it hard to believe in the moment —kisses back.

They pull apart, and everything is irrelevant in the face of the happiness they feel in having found each other, even by chance.

They kiss again; slower, deeper, and with an urgency ill-befitting of the time and space they have available.

———

Day 5

All records of the final entry have been [REDACTED] until further notice to maintain the rating of this fic.

It can be recalled that the [REDACTED] information featured notable involvement of local gazebo space not limited to below, above, and/or against the table, various uses of the excessive counters both halves of the rented space, more than banging on doors, and future plans for the continued entanglement of [REDACTED] leg distribution underneath blankets.

The reader is warned not to attempt searching for and/or to develop any interest in a desire to search for [REDACTED] records in future placements.

(The End.)

#frostiron holiday wishes challenge #frostiron #OMGGGGGGAWD #SO CUTE #SOOOO CUTEEEEEEEE #prompt #fill

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jamie-leah · 4 years

Text

War of Wolves

Season 1

Episode 2- You’ve Got A Deal

Bucky x Reader

Summary: You have been on the streets for the past two years, ever since your accident that left you with the ability to tell if someone is lying. You work as an informant for the white wolf and his mob but you had never met him…until you overhear a phone call that leads you to saving his life. Now he wants you to work for him. Its an offer you couldn’t refuse…right?

Word Count: 2,562

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of death? I think that’s it

A/N: So I decided to carry on posting this series. Its one of favourites. Feedback, comments, and likes are very welcome! Taglist is OPEN for this series!

<---Previous Episode Next Episode--->

War of Wolves Masterlist Series Masterlist Oneshot Masterlist

It was a three-hour car ride in silence. You were tense the entire time. You noticed Steve kept glancing at you in the rear-view mirror and you kept looking at Blake in the passenger seat when you knew he wasn’t looking.

When you finally felt Steve slow the car down, you looked out the windows. Coming up into view was a mansion. It had acres of grass filled land, a path for cars in the middle. As the car rolled over the gravel, the mansion got bigger and bigger as you got closer. It was made of brilliant, white stone. There were balconies, fountains, statues, windows of all shapes and sizes. There just seemed to be too many things for your brain to focus on.

Steve pulled up right outside the three stone steps to the main doors. He got out, followed by Blake and you watched Steve toss the keys at another man. You scramble out of the car and trail behind Steve and Blake.

When you walked through, you think your brain stopped working altogether. The first thing you noticed were the elegantly large stairs that lead to the second floor. It was made of marble white which is the reason you noticed the second thing: the floors. They were black. Impossibly black, and shiny and smooth.

The entire house was pristine, and you were suddenly conscious that you were a piece of trash. You didn’t have much time to admire the place as you followed the men through the house. You couldn’t remember the route you took, but it wasn’t long before you came to a closed set of doors.

Steve knocked and then poked his head through them. You could hear mumbling until he walked in, Blake following and you trailing slowly behind.

You had heard stories of the man in front of you. To you, he was almost like a legend. Enemies said his name with fear and friends said his name with reverence. When you looked at him, you understood why. He was sitting at a desk in black trousers and a black shirt, the first two buttons undone. The shirt was struggling to contain his muscles as you see them ripple under the fabric. His hair was shoulder length that seemed to catch on his stubble sometimes. But his eyes. It was his blue eyes that sent shivers down your spine.

It was those eyes that were staring at you now. They made you want to flee but stuck you to the spot at the same time. He stared at you the entire time Steve spoke in hush tones close to Bucky’s ear. It was only when he broke eye contact that you noticed the woman behind Bucky’s chair, her hand trying to inch down his open shirt.

Bucky’s gruff voice rang in the room, “everyone leave, except her”. Steve complied and so did Blake, but the woman whined. You could see the annoyance in Bucky’s face as his nostrils flare, “leave”, it was more of a growl that time. You watch her slowly take her hand off him, and slowly walk away, but not before she throws you a glare.

When the door clicks shut, it sounds like a jail cell closing to your ears. Your heart is beating so fast that you’re afraid it’ll give out at any moment. Bucky studies you in the quiet for a few moments. When he speaks directly to you, your heart skips a beat, “what’s your name?”.

You’re surprised when your voice doesn’t shake, even if it’s a little timid, “Y/N”.

He clasps his hands together on the desk. The gesture draws your eyes to his metal hand…so the rumours were true. He leans forward on his desk, “well Y/N, bold of you to insist on my attention just for some information…it better be worth it”.

When silence falls, he gestures for you to speak, “someone is going to kill you tomorrow. I also think they’re going to kill Steve and Sam, but I can’t be too sure”. You see his posture go rigid at what he must perceive to be a threat. You speak quickly, “I overheard a conversation. One of your men speaking to someone saying things like you would regret doing what you did to them. They told the person on the phone that you have a meeting with a new buyer tomorrow and that Steve and Sam will be going too. He told them that you have seven lower level men going with you and that when you’re taken out they can take over”. You take a deep breath after spilling all of that information.

You find it hard to read Bucky as he’s stayed still the entire time. He gets up from his desk and makes his way over to you. You take a step back, but he shakes his head and you stop. He comes so close that he looks down at you, his voice low, “I find it hard to believe that you got all that information from one phone call”. His hand shoots out and grabs your chin, hard, but not hard enough to bruise.

You feel his breath warm your face, “are you threatening me?”.

You shake your head as much as you can in his grasp, not daring to speak. He studies you, “how do you know this man wasn’t joking? A lot of my men joke about taking me down, it’s not uncommon”.

You swore to yourself that you wouldn’t tell anyone about what you can do. But you were scared of what would happen if you didn’t. Bucky wouldn’t believe you and not only kill you but get himself killed in the process.

He lets go of your chin and walks away, “so you don’t know for sure. This was a waste of my time-“.

“I’m gifted, so yes, I can be sure”, it bursts out of you. Your heart making the decision before your brain can even think about it.

He turns back to you, anger evident on his face, “now I know you’re lying-“.

You rush to cut him off, “I’m not. I swear. I was in a car accident around two and a half years ago. I had a brain injury among other things and when I woke up I had this ability to be able to tell when someone was lying. There are limitations to it, but I’ve never been wrong. Tell me something, go on”.

You see him cock his head ever so slightly, curious now, “tell you what exactly?”.

You hold his stare, “tell me something only you would know the answer to. You can tell me the truth about it or the lie and I’ll tell you”.

You think you see a ghost of a smile on his full lips. He thinks this is a game, but that’s fine. If he plays, he’ll see you’re not joking. Turns to face you full now, “my favourite ice cream flavour is mint chocolate”.

You don’t hesitate, “that’s a lie”.

You still see his slight smile, “I’m wearing boxers under my pants”.

You could feel the blush rising to your cheeks as you fight to keep your eyes on his, “that’s a lie”.

The smile on his face grows, “my mother’s name is Sarah”.

“Another lie”, you keep your expression serious.

His smile falters for a split second, “that’s because my mother’s name was Alison”.

You shake your head, “no, it wasn’t”.

His smile fades now as he takes a step closer to you again, “you’re right. Her name was Winifred”.

You give him a tiny smile, “yes it was. That’s a very lovely name”.

His expression is unreadable. He’s staring at you so intently that you fear he’ll burn a whole through you. He nods his head once, “okay, you’ve convinced me enough to keep you here until I see if you’re right about tomorrow. If it is an ambush, I’ll be ready…do you remember who you saw on the phone?”.

“Blake. He was on the phone this morning when he came to get information from me”. You watch him mull it over.

His blue eyes meet yours, “okay. Well, keep it to yourself. Don’t tell anyone what we discussed today. Steve will take you to a spare room. You can wait there until tomorrow”.

The room Steve showed you to was huge. It had a bed that seemed bigger than any you had seen before. There was a bathroom attached and a window that could look out the front of the house.

As soon as Steve left you had a shower. Despite the situation, you always took advantage of a shower. You dressed back into your tattered jeans but took a plain black t-shirt from the closet. It was big on you, so you tucked it into your jeans.

Time seemed to be going slowly. But it wasn’t long after your shower when you heard a knock on your door. When you went to open it, you saw a woman standing there with a cart full of food. She rolled it into the room and then left.

There was so much food you didn’t know where to start first, but you ate like a savage. You were happy to know that no one could see, but you hadn’t eaten in a little while. You ate so much that your stomach hurt. You laid on the softest bed in your life and fell unconscious before your head hit the pillow.

You get woken up the next day by car doors slamming outside. It takes you a couple seconds to realise where you are and what’s happening. You scramble from the bed to the window in time to see Bucky walk to the second car. He’s dressed in combat trousers and a black t-shirt that also struggles to contain his muscles and his metal arm glinting in the sun.

You see the four cars leave the estate and your nerves come back, twisting horribly in your stomach. Too many things could happen. The best-case scenario is that you’re right and Bucky doesn’t die. Worst case scenario is that Bucky does die and so does Steve and Sam.

Your brain was working over time the entire day. You barely ate anything and couldn’t focus on much. You spent most of the day pacing the room.

The sun was starting to set when you heard tires on gravel. You rush over to the window and watch. Just because the cars came back didn’t mean Bucky was alive. Your heart had stopped beating in the moments of the car stopping and the car door opening. But when you saw him step from the car your body seemed to sigh.

But your ever-racing mind couldn’t seem to stop. You were wondering if he believed you or not. You still don’t know what happened at this meeting and if it looked like you had lied then it wasn’t going to be a pretty ending for you.

From the moment you saw Bucky walk into the house you stared at the clock. It was an hour before you heard a knock on your door. You were surprised when he didn’t just walk in and you had to say, “come in”.

You were sitting on the end of the bed when he opened the door. He stepped in and closed the door, so you had time to study him. He was wearing the same thing as this morning, and he seemed unharmed. You weren’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

He sits next to you and you stare at his thigh inches from yours. The tension in the room made you feel sick, as you played with your hands.

Bucky’s rough voice seems quiet in the dying light of the room, “you were right”.

You squeeze your hands in relief but react in no other way. You wait for him to speak again, “there were no casualties on my side, but there would have been if I hadn’t have known. It’s very possible that I would be dead now”.

You both seem lost in what that would have meant. His voice is just above a whisper when he speaks next, “thank you. For telling me. But I must admit that I’m having some trouble with all this and surprisingly its not your gift…why? Why did you insist on coming here to save a man you’ve never even met?”.

That’s when he looks at you, his blue eyes somehow brighter in the darkening room. You take a few moments to think about the reason. Because he is right. It doesn’t seem to make sense that you would do this.

You take a deep breath, his eyes taking you in, “The money you give for homeless informants is the only reason I’ve been able to eat over the last two years. If I wasn’t getting it, I would have died a long time ago so perhaps I felt like I owed you or perhaps if you died I wouldn’t get that money anymore. I would like to tell you that’s the reason, because it makes more sense, but…I’ve heard the stories about you Mr Barnes. The White Wolf. I know which ones have been true and which ones haven’t been and from what I can gather, despite your profession and the things you’ve done in that profession, you seem a decent man that sticks to his principles. A man that puts family and loyalty above everything else. There’s not many men like you out there and to know a man like that would be snuffed out when I could have stopped it? I guess I feel a weird loyalty to you because of the last two years”.

You see him think over your words. The minutes stretch out until he clears his throat, “for what you did today, I have a debt to pay and a job to offer”.

Your eyebrows raise at his words. He half smiles at your reaction before explaining, “your gift would be of great use to me and I would love to use it in my line of work and in exchange you would live here. I would provide whatever you wanted, within reason. You would have regular meals and a much better life than the streets. You are free to refuse of course”.

You nod as you think over his words, “it’s a great offer and it does sound nicer than the streets, but wouldn’t it be dangerous?”.

He studies your face as he speaks, “well if you accept my offer I would discuss the logistics of keeping you safe in the morning. Of course, being in my mob at a higher level is more dangerous, but it also comes with more protection, including my own”.

You think over his words in silence. He waits patiently. Of course, it’s a great offer. To live like this every day is something you never even dared to dream about on the streets. But the danger, was it worth it?

You look him in the eye, your voice steady, “okay. You got yourself a deal White Wolf”.

You see him half smile. He lingers longer than necessary, but he eventually makes his way to the door. Before he leaves he turns and adds, “Bucky is fine”. The door clicks softly behind him.

War of Wolves Taglist: @a-really-bi-girl @scuzmunkie @viperslunatic @loving-life-my-way @crazyblonde124 @summerwelsh (this taglist is partly what was said a while ago, if you don’t want to be on it just shoot me a message!).

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talietikasero · 3 years

Text

Stability

Random prompt from 8/11 [finished 8/16]: rewrite the Strive ending / create an alternate epilogue [to line up with my story project]. I may or may not rewrite the whole thing for fun lmao.

[Main story preview here (contains 6 scenes)] // [Chapter 1 now on AO3]

"I guess... that's what they meant..." She let out between huffs. Both the voice in her head and the former Sanctus Maximus Populi said the same thing regarding her potential ability.

“When the time comes, with your seed, you hold the power to save or destroy the world.”

“You can prevent the end of it all.”

Energy drained, she fought off the sluggish pace her body was moving. Looking over to her partner, she noticed he was barely hanging on to his life, staying incredibly still, and trying to regulate his breathing while facing down. While her body contained the [Scales of Juno], he had the [Flame of Corruption] ripped out from his, reverting him to a human. "On second thought, don't move." Once she closed the distance between them, she knelt and put her arms around him. Face against the scuffed leather sleeve, and she struggled to hold her emotions in. "H-hey..." Voice cracking, she lowly muttered between sniffles, "please, don't go..."

"..."

"You... you stayed true to... your word about... a-about..."

"..."

"Fighting to... s-save the world..."

"If the world was going to disappear tomorrow... What would you do today?"

"What kind of a question is that? Stop whatever's ending the world or die trying."

Her embrace tightened as tears ran down her face. "Human, Gear, or neither. The world still needs you."

With drooped ears and saddened eyes, the wolf spirit whined. Its host and companion soothed it by scratching behind its ears and reassuring the worst had come to pass. "(It's okay, Rei. We're still alive.)." She whispered to the spirit in her native tongue. Another whine followed by a lick to the side of her face, Giovanna patted Rei's forehead. "What? Are you worried about me? I'm okay, I swear." She winced as another sharp pain ran through her body. "Ouch..." Her superior, the President, placed a hand on her shoulder. Half-expecting him to say she's no longer needed, she began, "I'm sorry-..."

"None of that." Vernon's voice was firm; however, it sounded... fatherly. He may have his doubts about the agent, but he knew she was more than capable of the job. Facing off against an unstoppable force, she did prove she's worth giving a higher position. "I can tell what you were thinking, but you're not being let go. You take as much time as you need off, Gio. Goldlewis, Erica, and I will await your return."

Saddened at the loss of someone he could consider a friend, the time traveler meekly looked down at the minty green and white guitar he held in his hands. This entire time he was unaware of her true identity. If he had to lose someone like her, it didn't have to be this way. Regardless of if she recalled who he was and why he was important to her in the first place, false memory or not. He threw away his chance to return home a while ago, and now he felt that it would've been for nothing had he gone through with it. "It shouldn't have ended like this... Megumi." Axl softly said under his breath.

After regaining control over his body and revealing the wicked goddess's weak point, the vampiric samurai pierced the ground a few centimeters with his sword. He kneeled to show his appreciation for defeating the evil force that used him as a puppet. Now, he could see why his master was fascinated by the will of a single person. This same person was stripped of his powers and still faced death head-on. "May you rest for now. The next time we meet, it won't be as enemies, but acquaintances." Drawing his blade from the ground, Nagoriyuki sheathed it and took his leave.

The King of Illyria – his lifelong rival and their son-in-law – made his way over to them, stopping a few feet short to maintain distance. "It's finally over. They're gone. We can... we can go home now." Part of him wanted to hold a hand out to help him stand, yet he held back and deemed that action unnecessary. Ky's spirits rose once he noticed the man in front of him was taking steady deep breaths -- body slowly moving to show signs of life.

Right hand maintaining its grip on the Outrage's handle, his free hand lightly grasped one of hers. Face still downward, a weak smile formed. "...You think so?"

She couldn't believe it. He's hanging by a thread and using what energy he should be saving to answer her with a question of his own.

"I know so."

The past three weeks were a blur. From the day she woke up and adjusted to this new world to the present, where she aided in bringing down a god. She never would've guessed that any of these events could've transpired. In the days leading up to September 2016, she was a terminally ill scientist who refused any life-saving alternative to live past what little time she had left, insisting she spent it with her significant other. Fast forward to December 2187, and she was brought back to life and became the partner of humanity's savior -- the very same person, albeit for the last time.

_____

The next day, another patient was checked into the hospital. This time there wasn’t a commotion caused by bringing his unconscious form bursting through the front doors. She wasn’t strong enough to carry him in her arms like he held her – that’s what the gurney from the airship’s infirmary wing was for.

“I have a request. May I stay here until he recovers? I… I don’t want to leave him.”

Three days later, word had reached his family that he's – miraculously and defying all odds – alive. His refusal to follow the light after what had happened was attributed to his stubborn nature. The Grim Reaper knocked at his door, and he slammed it shut in their face. Occupying the same bed, in the same patient room as her around a month ago, the now de-powered hero lay hooked up to the vitals system.

"Is he going to be alright?"

"Hard to say, but he'll pull through. He did wake up this morning, so there's something, yeah?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but has anyone seen my mother? About my height, short red hair with white underneath, and wearing a blue leather jacket? She hasn't been seen since everyone returned."

"She's in the room and hasn't left at all. I had someone stop by the house and bring her spare clothes since she spent the last four days here."

"Oh, thank god." The queen was relieved to know her mother's whereabouts. She respected her parents' privacy by not asking if she was able to go in.

---

Ring-ring. Ring-ring. Ring-ring-ring.

Sighing in aggravation, she answered her phone. There was only one person she kept in contact with these past few days. "What do you want now? He's still not up, so stop cal-..."

"I was going to ask something else. I'm going to regret this, but are you still angry?"

"You're a smart man to keep your distance from me, but a dumbass to ask that. Of course, I am! You ruined our lives with your 'self-righteousness' and nearly brought another apocalypse."

"...Aria, I understand your rage. If only I could rewind time and prevent your illness. I shouldn't have forcibly converted him and disappeared with your sleep capsule. It wasn't my intention to have our research weaponized, but I was figuratively and literally held at gunpoint to hand it over to the US Government. I should've known better and anticipated that Chaos -- erm, the Original's creation would sabotage your activation. Your screams still haunt me... and... I'm... I'm sorry."

"Asuka."

"I can't fix this by excessively apologizing and listing off my crimes, but I hope everything goes well for you and Frederick."

"Whatever. Enjoy the moon, or don't." She ended the call before her former friend could reply. "Asshole." Aria slumped back in the chair and opened her book to the page she left off. "We should've launched you into the sun."

"Oh my. And I thought 'Sol' was a hothead. You're pretty harsh, you know that? It's more frightening than I-No on a good day." Jack-O's voice rang through. Capable of feeling and expressing emotions herself, the Valentine was taken aback at what she heard during their calls. "If possible, can we listen to his show sometime? Please?"

"...Okay."

"Thank you. ~"

---

Forty minutes after the heated conversation, a groggy voice broke the silence.

"Is the... afterlife a sterile... hospital room?" Frederick's eyes were half-open, staring directly at the ceiling.

Aria closed what she was reading and placed it on the counter. Ignoring the monitors that once kept track of her, she looked over his body to see minimal damage sustained. "Looks like you've still got some of that healing factor. Or you're just too hardheaded to die."

He slightly turned his head to face her. "Heh. Probably both."

Running a hand through his now short hair, her lips curved into an unsure smile. "Welcome back to the land of the living?"

"This doesn't look like heaven. If you're my welcome guide, then I'll stay." His body was still sore, but he extended his arm out for her to hold his hand. The warmth from the fire magic still dwelling within them made their contact feel safer.

"I should've worn that jumpsuit and halo." Her inner voice's reaction was an exaggerated throat clear. "But if I did," she held a finger to her temple, "I don't think she would've appreciated that."

"I would've been mildly annoyed at best. Mildly annoyed yet honored that you'd wear it because of what you did."

"You're really pissed off at Asuka, aren't you?"

"How much did you hear?"

"All of it. Didn't know you were capable of that."

"I felt like you after the second day." He took that as a friendly poke at his history. "Since you've saved the world for the last time, are you still up for that 'alternate life' you mentioned the other night? We don't have to stay at Ky and Dizzy's. They can arrange something for us."

His ears perked up at the suggestion. Did she remind him about his statement regarding them settling down? Having survived an act of God, living a quiet life together a few minutes out from the capital didn't sound like a terrible idea. "What did you have in mind?"

"A fair-sized home, nothing too big or small, probably just down the way from their place. I don't want to throw everything away and live in seclusion. We're way out of our own time, but we finally have a family, people who care about us, and we care about them in return. Unless you have a better idea?"

"I'm fine with anything. Can't imagine I'd be able to go out much or at all because I'm officially a dead man."

"Not too long ago, I was a dead woman walking. Besides, the world thinks that Sol Badguy is dead, not Frederick Bulsara."

"Point there. You know, now that I think about it, this situation is just like a month ago."

"With you in my place, but I didn't have to be dragged in? This is the same room where I spent my time recovering. It was also -..."

"Where you got your new start."

"Y-yeah. That's exactly it. This is where I woke up to my new life! Not as Justice, or Jack-O, but as myself. That same day, I met our daughter and her husband, and then I saw you again. Just this time... I've been here since you were checked in. Everyone tried to get me to leave, but I refused."

He noticed the duffel bag placed near the door. There was a pant leg hanging over one side of the unzipped bag, and next to it were two pairs of footwear. "Way to tug at the old heartstrings. Stubborn as always, aren't you?" If he were honest with himself, he wanted to do the same when she was still unconscious. He had the feeling that the IRMC staff wouldn't have thought about asking him to leave the premises, even though he almost kicked the doors clean off the first time.

"One of my best qualities." She winked at him, giggling at her remark.

"Hey, Aria."

"Hm?"

He slowly sat up despite the mild pain, leaning over to bring her in for a hug. "Thank you."

Aria returned the motion, both holding onto each other, not wanting to let go. She had felt incomplete up until this moment. Preventing the end was a combined effort, and she couldn’t be any happier to have been a part of that team.

A sense of d��jà vu, the song playing on the radio had neared its end.

You are all I long for All I worship and adore In other words, please be true In other words...

"I love you."

#guilty gear #aria hale #only tagging her since she's the main character of this little project #other characters in this mini prompt: sol axl giovanna nagoriyuki and vernon #also ky asuka and jack-o #the main fic's about 90 percent done #and i wrote this because i hit writer's block for two days #i'm ending the main fic's chapter 3 at the beginning of ggst so i may do some more rewrites #the song at the end is the brenda lee version of fly me to the moon #nat's fanfics #ah whoopsie it's 5am #by the energy drain i intended for her to jump into god i-no's body like in the actual story mode #but then she was torn out after starting the halting process

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ibijau · 4 years

Text

Burn it down AU // on AO3 // extras on AO3

His secrets discovered, Jin Guangyao pleads his case. And when everything is over, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian have a much needed chat.

Warning for character death

The instant Qin Su’s scream finished ringing in the air, footsteps starting to come running in their direction, shouting for their mistress and asking what was wrong. The young woman looked around as if in a panic before grabbing Wei Wuxian and shoving him inside the mirror chamber. This left Lan Wangji no choice but to quickly follow him inside, which Qin Su did not try to prevent.

They stumbled onto a dark room that instantly illuminated the moment they stepped inside, the oil lamps kept there igniting on their own. It was filled with cabinets, and shelves covered in papers, as well as less pleasant things such as torture instruments. Since it wasn’t too dark inside, Lan Wangji was able to see perfectly well that Wei Wuxian looked extremely puzzled, enough so it showed through his disguise. He shared the feeling.

“Do you think he lied to her?” Wei Wuxian asked. “About the Jin blood thing?”

“Hm.” Lan Wangji nodded, hoping that was the case, though he wouldn’t be surprised if there was another explanation. The Jins had never taken marital vows quite as seriously as some other sects did, since they had the money to buy their way out of most scandals. An affair could have happened at any point during the ancestry of Qin Su. Hopefully, at a very far away point. And yet, considering Jin Guangshan’s reputation, and the late Madam Qin’s beauty…

An unpleasant train of thought that Lan Wangji refused to consider at the moment.

Wei Wuxian must have reached a similar conclusion. He grimaced briefly before turning to look at the nearest cabinet, peering curiously.

“Well, we made it here, in the end. Lan Zhan, let’s just look around? I don’t know what’s up with the young Madam Jin, so let’s see if we can get the things we came for, in case she decides to call her husband and we need to run.”

The idea seemed reasonable, so Lan Wangji could make no objections. Even if he had wanted to, it was too late: Wei Wuxian was already walking around the room without any caution. Lan Wangji sighed, though he could not have said whether in fondness or frustration, and followed the other man.

“Hey, that’s mine!” Wei Wuxian grumbled, looking at some loose sheets of paper on a shelf. “I recognise my writing! Those are my notes on raising Wen Ning from the dead, why are they here? I’d have thought everything would have been destroyed.”

“Lanling Jin gathered many of Wei Ying’s possessions,” Lan Wangji explained. “For safekeeping.”

“And then they let people like Xue Yang and little Mo Xuanyu play with those. And I guess it’s also thanks to them that everyone seems to have a compass of evil these days? Eh, if there’s a profit to be had, Lanling Jin is never far behind. Hm? And what’s in there, you think?”

There meant a large cabinet taller than Lan Wangji and a little wider than him as well. It looked at odds with the other items in the room, being obviously made to be sturdy rather than pleasant to look at. It bore the marks of blows and had been slashed at, or perhaps clawed at. Considering the pattern of attack of Nie Mingjue’s corpse, it caught Lan Wangji’s attention as well. One hand on Bichen and ready to draw it out if needed, he stepped closer as Wei Wuxian opened the cabinet.

They both gasped at what they found inside: a man, younger than Lan Wangji, too pale to be alive, with long, wild hair, and restrained by heavy chains around his body. Although he looked at them when the door opened, there was no curiosity in his eyes, no anger, only bleak emptiness.

“Wen Ning!” Wei Wuxian cried out, reaching for the fierce corpse’s chained hands. “Wen Ning what did they do to… wait, but you’re supposed to have been burned? Hey, Wen Ning, say something? What did they cut your tongue?”

Wei Wuxian’s alarm rose the longer Wen Ning remained silent. The fierce corpse was not making any efforts to free himself even now that help had come, making no movement though his eyes were tracking every gesture Wei Wuxian made. It made a shiver run down Lan Wangji’s spine to notice this single trace of Wen Ning left. The Ghost General had always been drawn to Wei Wuxian like a flower to the sun, and it seemed to be true even when his master had changed so drastically, a frail boy now instead of a wasting man. Or perhaps it had nothing to do with Wei Wuxian, perhaps Wen Ning recognised Mo Xuanyu, or he always looked at everyone that way, in this odd state he was in.

“They must have done something to him!” Wei Wuxian said. “It’s not normal, he shouldn’t be like this, he… Lan Zhan, did you know about this?”

The reproach in his voice stung, though considering the circumstances, Lan Wangji could understand the accusation.

"I did not know," he promised. "We all thought him destroyed." He paused, and frowned. "Xue Yang must have known."

Wei Wuxian's shoulder relaxed ever so slightly. His trust soothed the sting that his moment of doubt caused.

"Little bastard," Wei Wuxian grumbled between clenched teeth. "He knew we'd find him. I wonder… Lan Zhan, keep looking around for Chifeng-Zun's head, I'll see if I can do something for Wen Ning. This isn't… He shouldn't be like this."

"Wei Ying, be careful."

"I'm always careful," Wei Wuxian replied, which had to be the worst lie Lan Wangji had ever heard in his life, but he let it pass. It wasn't that big of a room, if Wen Ning attacked, he'd be there in an instant to protect Wei Wuxian.

On one side of the room, Lan Wangji noticed a small desk. Right in front of it was another cabinet, this one covered with a dark, heavy curtain. After another look toward Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji lifted the fabric and gasped lightly in shock at the sight of Nie Mingjue's head.

After what had happened to the rest of his brother-in-law's body, perhaps Lan Wangji should have expected that even his head would be desecrated in some way. Still, to find it bound and gagged, its eyes and ears covered as if it were a vicious beast rather than the remains of a man, and then positioned in such a way that whoever worked at that desk could gaze upon it and gloat over their victory…

Lan Wangji was glad that Nie Huaisang wasn't there with them. A sight like that one might have sent him back to the state he was in when he made Mo Xuanyu kill himself.

With as much gentleness and respect as he could, Lan Wangji took the head from that cabinet, and walked back to Wei Wuxian. The other man didn't notice at first, still too focused on Wen Ning. He only turned when Lan Wangji called his name, and let out a noise of disgust.

"That Lianfang-Zun holds a pretty mean grudge, uh?" Wei Wuxian commented. "That or the head was just as drenched in resentment as the rest of the body, and someone had to work hard to suppress it."

Lan Wangji nodded. Even just holding it, he could feel Nie Mingjue's rage seeping through the restraints. It would not be easy to put him to rest after everything was over. He had been an extraordinary cultivator in life, and even in death he might prove a challenging opponent.

Before Lan Wangji could point out this worry of his, ripples appeared on the bronze mirror, and Qin Su joined them, looking a little more composed once more, though not for long.

Her eyes jumped between them, Lan Wangji holding the desecrated head of an old family friend, Wei Wuxian standing next to the fierce corpse of a long destroyed enemy. At first Lan Wangji feared she would scream again, but though she turned pale and trembled, Qin Su kept her calm.

"Is this what you came here for?" she asked Lan Wangji, looking him in the eyes to avoid the sight of what he held. "This is… Is this who I think?"

"Chifeng-Zun and the Ghost General," Lan Wangji confirmed.

Qin Su had to move close to a wall to support herself, her face growing paler still.

"Chifeng-Zun… Are you here to accuse my husband of killing him?"

"You are jumping to that conclusion very quickly," Wei Wuxian noted, abandoning his friend a moment. "Madam Jin, could it be you have suspicions?"

She shook her head, leaning harder against the wall.

"They had arguments, but my husband was working on a reconciliation. He went to the Unclean Realm so often, even when I was expecting… Hanguang-Jun, my husband is not that sort of person. He is not a murderer. He owed Chifeng-Zun so much, how could he ever do this? But this… "

Her gaze darted toward the head in Lan Wangji's hands. She shivered and closed her eyes with a faint whimper.

"It can't be. He goes in this room often, he couldn't have ignored that… Hanguang-jun, did he really do this?"

Lan Wangji nodded grimly.

"We have a witness, and other proof," Wei Wuxian added. "This was the last missing piece of the puzzle. I assume you didn't know?"

Qin Su shook her head again, and let herself slide down on her knees, trembling too much to stand.

"If I had known… I would have told my father, he would have known what to do. I just cannot believe… A-Yao isn't like that, he's a good man. He can't have done this. Hanguang-Jun, is it certain?"

"It is," Lan Wangji replied, feeling a twinge of pity for Qin Su when she broke into tears.

While she cried, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji exchanged a long look, silently wondering what to do next.

"I'll get Nie-xiong, and he'll get Zewu-Jun while I keep an eye on the children," Wei Wuxian offered. "It's probably better if they're kept away from this, and I don't think I have much more insight to offer on this matter, eh?"

It seemed the safest plan. They couldn't both leave, in case Jin Guangyao came back and tried to destroy the evidence. It would also have been unwise for Wei Wuxian to stay behind, since Qin Su might have decided to destroy evidence to protect her husband, and Wei Wuxian's new body wouldn't have had the strength to oppose her.

Still, Lan Wangji remained restless until, after a long while, Nie Huaisang and Lan Xichen entered the secret room along with Jin Guangyao and some other high ranking Jin cultivators.

Jin Guangyao took one look at his still kneeling wife whose eyes were throwing daggers, at Lan Wangji holding the head of Nie Mingjue, at the impassive Ghost General. He grabbed Lan Xichen's sleeve, and let his expression turn to one of deep anguish.

"Er-ge, I swear I can explain."

Jin Guangyao did explain, and most of his story roughly coincided with what Lan Wangji, Nie Huaisang and Wei Wuxian had discovered while investigating the murder. When he claimed that his father had forced him to conduct the murder, Lan Wangji felt unsurprised, and he suspected that the Jin elders present were nowhere near as shocked as they pretended to be.

"Father would have thrown me out of the sect," Jin Guangyao explained with tears in his eyes, still turning again and again toward Lan Xichen, clearly aiming to get his sworn brother to protect him. "I was stuck between my father's threats and Da-ge's refusal to make any compromise… Er-ge, you know how hard I tried to act as a bridge between them, but something had to give. With a choice like this, what man would I have been if I didn't side with my own father?"

"A righteous one," Lan Xichen replied. "You really never understood Da-ge at all if you think he wouldn't have helped you, had you told him your father's orders. You wouldn't have been a Jin anymore, but you would have been a good man, a good friend."

Sensing that no help would come from there, Jin Guangyao thought to appeal to Nie Huaisang instead.

Since stepping into that secret chamber, Nie Huaisang had stayed close to Lan Xichen, leaning against his side while his lover had an arm wrapped around his back to support him. Whether it was his usual act or true vulnerability and exhaustion, Lan Wangji could not have said. Either way, it changed the instant he felt Jin Guangyao’s eyes on him. Immediately Nie Huaisang's spine became straighter. He stepped away from Lan Xichen to stand on his own and glared down at the man who had taken so much from him, silently challenging him to dare appeal to his mercy. Radiating such immense rage, Nie Huaisang looked more like his brother than he ever had before.

Jin Guangyao quickly cast down his eyes, stunned for a second into silence by the man he had always treated with benevolent condescension. Realising that his former friends were resolutely against him, Jin Guangyao changed strategy and turned his attention to the Jin elders.

It was likely that some of them had a dirty conscience, and that Jin Guangyao knew some of their secrets. There could be no other reason why they were so willing to let him shift the blame on Jin Guangshan, no longer here to defend himself, and on Xue Yang, who he boldly accused of coming up with that plan.

"We can ask him about that," Nie Huaisang interrupted with a sharp smile he quickly hid behind a fan. "We have Xue Yang, alive and well."

The news startled not only Jin Guangyao, but also some of the other elders present. To Lan Wangji, it confirmed that their Chief Cultivator and his father probably had accomplices, even if those men might not have been privy to all their plans.

"Huaisang, what did Xue Chengmei tell you exactly?" Jin Guangyao asked with a sympathetic smile. "You realise he is not a very trustworthy source, don't you? What happened, this situation… It's really more complicated than you realise."

Nie Huaisang shrugged behind his fan, and looked around the chamber, taking in all of his former friend's secrets.

"I actually think it's a very simple situation," he said. "And I'm going to offer a very simple solution." He turned to the Jin elders and lowered his fan. "I want Jin Guangyao's head within the week, or it's war. I also want all the contents of this chamber as blood price for my brother’s murder, including the Ghost General and other possessions of Wei Wuxian."

Jin Guangyao paled at the demand, while the Jin elders started whispering urgently between themselves.

"Huaisang, you can't mean that," Jin Guangyao pleaded in a weak voice. "Please, I'll go into exile, I'll…"

Ignoring him, Nie Huaisang crossed the distance to Lan Wangji and silently took back his brother's head. His hands were shaking badly as he did so, but his face remained perfectly impassive while he cradled the severed head in his arms.

"Count yourself lucky I'm only asking for your head, San-ge," Nie Huaisang lightly said, his eyes on his brother's head as he gently tucked some stray hair behind its ear. "I could demand a lot more, I'd have law and tradition on my side. You have a wife and a son, you had accomplices… But they all get to live, as long as you die. As for the other price I ask for, I think it is a light one."

"Sect Leader Nie, we don't even know what's in this chamber," one Jin elder mildly protested. "To ask for its contents is…"

"It is not my problem if you people have been kept in the dark by your sect leaders," Nie Huaisang snapped, holding the head tighter against his chest. "Again, consider the alternative. And consider also that if you do not let me have this, Sandu Shengshou will hear about the contents of this room. Do you wish to deal with him rather than me?”

Although Yunmeng Jiang was still not back to its full power, the reputation of it sect leader was such that a few of the elders immediately appeared to make their decision. The contents of this secret chamber were worth a fortune to be sure, even more so than they all realised since Nie Huaisang would have access to Wei Wuxian himself to make sense of it all if he deemed it necessary… but nothing could be worth making an enemy out of Jiang Cheng. Even for Nie Huaisang it was a risk, but he’d proven before that he knew how to placate his old friend.

That, or he intended to destroy the whole lot anyway, save for whatever Wei Wuxian might ask to have back, because it was to protect their own demonic cultivator that Jin Guangshan and Jin Guangyao had killed his brother.

Even after all this time, Lan Wangji still couldn’t figure out what his husband thought sometimes.

Jin Guangyao, feeling the wind turning decisively against him, turned once more to Lan Xichen and fell to his knees before his sworn brother.

“Er-ge, please, have mercy. The crimes that have been committed were not all my own doing, and I was never more than the sword others held. Will I really be the only one to pay for what happened? Those who profited from it, those who closed their eyes, will they really go unpunished, simply because I am the easier target for your hatred? I know I have hurt others, Er-ge, but I have always done everything I could to help you! I saved your life once, will you truly not return the favour?”

Seeing him pleading in such a pathetic manner, Lan Xichen appeared to be moved. He looked at Nie Huaisang, as if ready to suggest that a more lenient sentence might be offered, but kept silent when their eyes met.

He could have asked anything of Nie Huaisang and his lover would have tried to give it to him… anything, but not this. Nie Huaisang, engulfed once more in his righteous fury, would have broken up without hesitation with the lover he had so patiently waited for, rather than to give up on seeing his brother’s murdered dead.

“You gave up the right to ask for favours when you made me an accomplice of your crimes,” Lan Xichen told Jin Guangyao with a sigh, “and when those crimes took the life of a man I thought we both loved as a brother. It is Sect Leader Nie’s right to decide how he wants justice to be conducted in this matter. Appeal to him for mercy, if you dare.”

Hesitantly, his shoulders hunched, Jin Guangyao turned his head to glance at Nie Huaisang, still cradling the head of his brother. Jin Guangyao had a thick face and could argue black into white, but under that rageful glare he could only hang his head in defeat.

"Then let it be so," he sighed. "If I must die by any hand, let it be yours."

Although the Jin argued and begged, in the end they agreed to the guilt of their sect leader, and bent to the demands of Nie Huaisang. It helped, probably, that Nie Huaisang had sent an urgent message to Qinghe so his brother's sabre would be brought to him. Baxia arrived only the day after, and with it in hand, Nie Huaisang personally guarded the cell in which Jin Guangyao was kept. He did not want the murderer to be set free, he explained, and he did not trust anyone in Lanling Jin.

The only visitor Jin Guangyao had during that time was his own wife. What they said to each other was never revealed, but Qin Su was visibly upset when she returned from that visit, and immediately announced that she was returning to her father's sect with her son. She declined to wait until it was decided whether her husband would live or die.

"He has done what he has done," she stated. "I no longer care for his fate. My parents were right to be against this union, and I only wish I had listened to my mother."

This rejection from a previously devoted wife had pushed a few more elders in the camp in favour of execution, though not as much as the testimony of Nie Mingjue himself.

It took days of constant effort for Lan Wangji, Lan Xichen and Wei Wuxian to repair the damages done to Nie Mingjue’s body and soul. Wei Wuxian had not even been sure it would be possible, and noted that if Nie Mingjue had been left in that horrific state a few years longer, nothing could have been done for him.

His soul stabilised, Nie Mingjue's spirit was made to explain what had happened to him. The living might have lied, but the dead were known to be truthful, and this sealed the case.

Jin Guangyao would die.

The manner of his death brought new questions and he was brought into the council room while the matter was discussed. The Jins were loath to handle it themselves, since it could have passed as an act of rebellion against their sect leader.

Jin Guangyao, in a shocking move, requested that his execution be handled by Lan Xichen, stating there was no one else he trusted so much with making his end a quick and painless one. Lan Wangji almost offered to do it himself instead, to spare his brother from this torture. Before he could say anything on that matter, Nie Huaisang started laughing, bringing everyone's attention to himself.

"I asked for his head, and I'll get it myself," he announced, carelessly petting Baxia's handle, which he still hadn't let go of since it was brought to him. "It is my duty as the leader of Qinghe Nie. And that way, you still get to be killed by a friend, San-ge. Isn't that a nice compromise?"

Jin Guangyao paled, but gave up on trying to negotiate for himself.

He died the next day, at Nie Huaisang's hand.

In public, Nie Huaisang showed no more emotion than if he had beheaded a chicken. In private, with his husband and his lover, he broke into tears. Whatever else had come to pass between them, Jin Guangyao had once been one of his favourite friends. Even Wei Wuxian, who until then had clung to a certain resentment on behalf of Mo Xuanyu, could only pity his old friend.

With this problem over, the four of them were asked to leave Carp Tower at their earliest convenience so the Jin could decide who would take over their sect until Jin Rulan came of age. They were only too happy to comply. Nie Huaisang, escorted by some of his disciples who had rushed there, headed back to the Unclean Realm with a cart heavy from the contents of that secret chamber. Hidden from view, Wen Ning was going there as well. Although Wei Wuxian had managed to undo the harm caused upon him by Xue Yang, he'd been forced to admit that Nie Huaisang had a better chance than him to keep Wen Ning safe for the time being. The Unclean Realm was a fortress against which even Jiang Cheng's rage would be powerless.

"We will visit him," Lan Wangji promised as they watched the Nies leave. "He is family."

"Well, yeah, he's A-Yuan's cousin," Wei Wuxian replied. "Are you fine with him reconnecting with his Wen origins, though ?"

Lan Wangji wasn't comfortable with it, but this wasn't about him. Wei Wuxian had once cared for Wen Ning's people so much that he had given up on everything else. As for A-Yuan, he deserved to have as full a family as possible. Already, it was going to be difficult for him to learn that the new friends he had only just made would probably never get to play with him again, since the relationship between their sects promised be tense in the future. Hopefully, getting a new cousin would mitigate that somewhat.

“He is family,” Lan Wangji repeated, a little more firmly.

It had to have been the right thing to say. Wei Wuxian smiled at him as if Lan Wangji had offered him the moon, rather than just accepted a very reasonable request regarding their son.

It was good to be back in the Cloud Recesses. A-Yuan, who for safety had been sent back there right after Jin Guangyao had been exposed, was beyond happy to have his family back with him, though he expressed disappointment that Nie Huaisang had returned directly to Qinghe.

“I know Nie-ge has his sect and he’s so busy, but it was nice when everyone was here together,” he sighed.

“We’ll be together again,” Lan Wangji promised.

It would be easier in the future, without the threat of Jin Guangyao forcing them to be careful. Nie Huaisang wouldn’t be so scared about letting them visit, and they would be able to stay longer in the Unclean Realm. Lan Wangji wondered if Wei Wuxian would want to help Nie Huaisang and A-Yuan with their vegetable patch, if he’d offer advice and kneel down in the dirt with them while Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen stood to the side and watched the men they loved having fun in the sun. Just the thought of it made his heart go soft.

Those happy moments would have to wait. For now, there was still some distasteful business to take care of. While Wei Wuxian went to the Jingshi with A-Yuan, Lan Wangji and his brother had a meeting with their uncle and the Lan elders to give a detailed account of what had happened in Carp Tower. Most of the elders were shocked at hearing of Jin Guangyao’s crimes, and even more so when told that Nie Huaisang had demanded his death and acted as executioner, going against the image they had of him. They were also very unhappy to hear the fate that Nie Huaisang and the Lan brothers had settled on for Xue Yang.

“Just cutting his dominant hand and sending him in exile, isn’t that too risky?” one of them objected. “That boy is a demon, what if he decides to take revenge on us? After what he did to the Yueyang Chan sect…”

“We are rather stronger than they were,” Lan Xichen noted calmly. “And these actions of his were undertaken with a copy of the Tiger Seal which he no longer owns, under the protection of Lanling Jin which he has lost. I will not say he is not dangerous, and I cannot say either that I am fully happy with setting him free when he caused so much damage. But he was promised mercy for his help, and keeping him imprisoned is not a long term solution. Someone like him would find a way to escape sooner or later.”

It caused a long debate, with some of the elders wondering if they really should consider themselves bound by that promise to a murderer. Lan Xichen held strong, though Lan Wangji knew he probably wanted to see Xue Yang dead more than the rest of them, since it was his actions and the need to protect him that had pushed Jin Guangshan into ordering the death of Nie Mingjue. Still, a deal was a deal, and Gusu Lan had always kept to its word. Lan Qiren supported his nephew, and so the sect leader’s decision had to be accepted.

After that unpleasant council, Lan Wangji decided to head for the kitchen. Wei Wuxian and him had agreed that it would be nice to have dinner in the Jingshi with A-Yuan so they could enjoy a little quiet after their difficult time in Carp Tower. To make this more pleasant, Lan Wangji set out to prepare some dishes that would be more to Wei Wuxian’s taste. He’d found out in recent times that he enjoyed cooking, not simply because it made Wei Wuxian happy, but because it was relaxing and gave him time to think.

And he certainly needed to think. It had always been clear to him that Wei Wuxian was there only until the situation with Jin Guangyao was resolved. Since it was now done, Lan Wangji had no idea what the future held for him, A-Yuan, and Wei Wuxian. He had fantasies of a perfect life with his son and the man he loved, yet wasn't foolish enough to think that would come true. So far Wei Wuxian hadn’t said a word that might hint he would leave with A-Yuan and never return, but Lan Wangji doubted he would be comfortable staying in the Cloud Recesses. After all, he had always made it very clear he did not like the place, even if he had been less vocal about it in this new life. So, they would have to discuss his future plans, perhaps not that very night, but soon.

Once their meal was ready, Lan Wangji returned to the Jingshi. There he found the man he loved playing with their son, the two of them laughing together. The future was uncertain, but it probably wouldn’t be bad.

It was a very pleasant evening. Dinner was good, and they chatted a long while after, until it was time for A-Yuan to go to sleep. Wei Wuxian was the one to read a story with him that night, while Lan Wangji cleaned and tidied the table. Without really talking about it, the two adults then went to sit on the porch to enjoy the cool air and the starry sky. After such animation in recent times, it was pleasant to have a little quiet. Even Wei Wuxian seemed a little more subdued than usual and kept silent for a while.

He still was the one to speak first, of course.

“Lan Zhan, tonight… did you cook all that?” he asked.

“Some of it. Wei Ying doesn’t like Gusu Lan food.”

Wei Wuxian smiled with a small sigh, looking up at the moon.

“Ah, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan… you’re really something else.”

This could, and perhaps should, have been the end of that conversation, but Wei Wuxian appeared to be in a chatty mood after all.

“You know, I’ve had a few talks with Nie-xiong lately,” he announced. “And he had the guts to scold me for some things. He seemed to think it particularly important that I tell you that, about my past life… there’s a lot I don’t remember very well. I’ve never been one to remember things that don’t matter to me, but concerning the time after I went to live in the Burial Mounds… there’s really a lot I’ve forgotten. And anything that happened after shijie died? That’s a complete blank.”

“Complete?” Lan Wangji repeated.

Wei Wuxian nodded with a small grimace, and laughed.

“I don’t even know how I made it out of Nightless City that time,” he claimed, nervously brushing his finger on his nose. “Using the Tiger Seal really took a lot out of me, so by all accounts I should have just fallen to the ground and been captured by whoever was still standing… but I guess I must have had some strength left, if I made it back to Yiling. Still, that was… Lan Zhan, are you unwell?”

Not trusting his voice, Lan Wangji only nodded as relief overcame him. If Wei Wuxian didn’t remember anything that had happened after Nightless City, then things could remain good between them. Without his unwanted confession, they could continue being friends. It explained also why Wei Wuxian was so comfortable around him, having no idea that Lan Wangji was foolish enough to want more than his friend was willing to give.

For a moment Wei Wuxian frowned, appearing almost concerned. He then looked away and laughed lightly.

“Lan Zhan, so it was really bothering you that my memory is this bad, eh? I see why Nie xiong was so insistent that I tell you. And, you know, it’s not the only thing we chatted about.”

“What else?” Lan Wangji asked, feeling at peace in a way he hadn’t been in too long.

“Well, the other thing is your fault,” Wei Wuxian explained. “Remember that day when we saw Nie-xiong and Zewu-Jun kiss?” he rolled his eyes, as if still upset by that perceived betrayal, no matter how welcome it had been for Lan Wangji. “And after, you said it was fine because Nie-xiong and you had already discussed this, and that you both knew you were in love with other people when you married.”

That precious sense of peace evaporated in an instant, leaving only dread. Wei Wuxian, who wasn’t looking at Lan Wangji, didn’t notice the way he tensed and continued on.

“Since you didn’t want to tell me who it was, I had to ask Nie-xiong. I’m a curious person, and I really wanted to know who could have captured the heart of the mighty Hanguang-Jun, ahah! But Nie-xiong… well, you know him. He won’t say things plainly if he can make a mystery of it. He thinks it makes him cool or something. So he told me that yes there’s a person, and yes he knows who it is, but he wouldn’t tell me their name.”

Lan Wangji breathed again. He might buy his husband a new fan to thank him for keeping that secret, or offer to take over his brother’s duty a little bit so Lan Xichen could go visit the Unclean Realm for a month or two.

“He did give me some hints though,” Wei Wuxian added.

Lan Wangji pinched his lips, and retracted the good deeds he’d just wanted to do for Nie Huaisang.

“Nie-xiong said that you are very devoted to this person, and you trust them more than anyone else does, but you’ve also had some big arguments with them in the past because you couldn’t understand some of their choices. Which I thought was funny, because Lan Zhan isn’t the sort to have fights. If someone annoys you, you’re more likely to just ignore them, right? Aside from me, I’ve never seen you get really angry at anyone… but I’m good at pissing off people, so I figured that’s different. Then Nie-xiong told me that even if you act so cool and distant, you’re really just a big sap!”

Lan Wangji huffed quietly. Nie Huaisang was going to pay for this.

“So Nie-xiong said that it’d be easy to guess who you loved, because you are always spoiling that person, buying them anything they want, letting them break any rule that pleases them when they're in the Cloud Recesses. He said also that you’re always looking at them if they’re nearby, and always ready to protect them even if they’re in the wrong. And I thought… really, that’s funny. It sounds almost like the way you act with me!”

Lan Wangji tensed even further when Wei Wuxian finally turned to look at him again, his cheeks flushed and his gaze intense.

“Lan Zhan… is it really like that?”

“I have no expectations,” Lan Wangji said, which wasn’t quite a reply. “I am honoured to have Wei Ying’s friendship.”

Wei Wuxian gasped, his cheeks turning even more red.

“Lan Zhan, really? But you’re… You’ve always been so annoyed by me! You’ve punished me so many times, and we’ve gotten into so many arguments and… haven’t I gotten you in trouble a few times in the past? Lan Zhan, you really have awful tastes!”

“My taste is excellent.”

At that remark, Wei Wuxian gasped again and had to turn away.

“Lan Zhan, you really are a sap! I can’t believe it, I never would have suspected! Well, I know now. I’ll have to tease you about that!”

“Wei Ying always teases,” Lan Wangji calmly retorted.

Wei Wuxian laughed at this, so loud that it echoed in the silence of the Cloud Recesses. He did not seem upset, or distressed, or even less angry about the situation, just amused to have found out a new side of Lan Wangji that he hadn’t previously known. After how much anguish he had felt over his unrequited feelings, Lan Wangji could only be grateful that Wei Wuxian was taking it so well this time around.

After he was done laughing, Wei Wuxian stayed quiet for a little bit. Lan Wangji was starting to wonder if the matter was going to be dropped when the other man spoke again.

“Lan Zhan, I don’t really know what to do with all this,” Wei Wuxian admitted. “It’s all been a little complicated lately after all, I'm still getting used to being alive again. But I know I like spending time with you. I like that I get to chat with you and poke fun at you. I like how well we work together. I like that I can trust you, and that you trust me too. In short, Lan Zhan, I like you a lot, and the idea of having you in my life… that really makes me so happy. I don’t know if that’s love, but if you’re okay with giving me time to think about it, then I’ll think about it a lot until I figure it out.”

“Wei Ying can take the time he needs,” Lan Wangji earnestly replied. “No matter the conclusion, Wei Ying is my friend.”

Wei Wuxian blushed harder, and slapped his shoulder.

“Lan Zhan, you’re really too much of a sap!” he pouted. “I can’t believe you’ve managed to keep that hidden from everyone. The great Hanguang-Jun looks so cold, but he’s really the warmest and softest person in the world! I’d tell everyone, but they wouldn’t believe me!”

Lan Wangji could only smile, relieved that he hadn’t ruined their friendship by feeling too much, amused also by how flustered Wei Wuxian was when he’d always acted like such a shameless flirt in the past. Seeing his smile, Wei Wuxian pretended to be shocked by this new display of emotion and started blabbering on, before quickly laughing at his own jokes as he too often did.

What a ridiculous man he was, and Lan Wangji loved him all the more for it.

#wangxian #xisang #wei wuxian #lan wangji #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes #burn it down au #I have no idea if this is good or bad but it is written and that's all that matters at this point #I'm sorry it took so long to update this story orz

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jokerfan99 · 3 years

Photo

Slideshows (RWBY/RVB) by Necroceph

*RVB Opening Theme*

Inside the Blue base, Mess Hall

Gary: It wasn't my fault. I only help, Wyoming kidnapped the alien. Tucker: Junior! His name is Junior, asshole! Church: Not your fault, huh? What about that time when you tried to blow me into pieces, you lying jackass! Gary: Knock knock. Caboose: Who's there? Gary: You are all dirty dirty Shisnos. Ha Ha Ha. Caboose: You're mean!

The atmosphere in the mess hall is filled with insults and anger, both from the Blues and Gary. They traded words like ' Dirty Shisno' and 'Backstabbbing AI' at one another. Church said this is supposed to be an interrogation but look at the results on the reunion of two enemies. Weiss and Blake can see the whole situation and think that: "Yep they know each other." They turned away and continued to where their conversation had left off.

Blake: So, Ruby and Yang, are here in this canyon? Weiss: Yes. Blake: And they're still not happy to see you. Weiss: Sigh. Yes and... Blake: Wait don't tell me. They attacked when they saw you. Weiss: Well, Ruby didn't attack me and I was the first to punched her. But Yang, she almost tried to tear my head off if it wasn't for, Caboose! None of this wouldn't have happened, we would... Blake: Weiss, you don't have to remind me about it. Look you can't just keep hating each other forever. The past is the past. How about just give yourselves a chance to talk with each other and settle aside your differences. Weiss: Except that won't work like how you did with, Sun. The last time we met was when Ruby tried to hit me with a drip stand. Anyways, why are you doing here exactly? Another Xenotarian aid assignment? Blake: Before that, yeah. The ship I was in was flying was running out so I had to stop by here to fuel up. I found a base but the inhabitants there are... Weiss: Let me guess, they're all dead. Well we're in a war, after all. What did you expect? Blake: War? Weiss: Oh right, you may not have heard about this. We're currently at war with the Red army. Not sure why they're called that but I've been told they're a bunch of arrogant Insurgents that needed some discipline. Atlas sent me to aid the Blue Army as a support. Blake: And the Blue army are? Weiss: They're an independent military force from a neighboring colony. According to Atlas intelligence, they got a huge disagreement with the Reds to decide which property they own. Blake: That seems understandable. But I taught you can't enter the Atlesian Army after you... Weiss:... Blake: Sorry to bring that up. Weiss: None taken. Nah I still couldn't. But out of the blue, they decided to give me another chance by performing an assignment. If I transfer myself to another army, live through it and won the war, I can finally get into the Atlesian army like I wanted to! Plain and simple. Blake: Really? Wow, that's something I've never heard, Atlas would do. It's a very good second chance for you. Though I've never of any war in this sector. Weiss: Hmm, maybe the White Paw forgot to update about it. Church: Ahem!

Blake and Weiss turned to Church.

Church: Will you two shut up? We're interrogating here. Blake: Is he always like that? Weiss: Oh don't mind him. He's always a jerk. He's name Church. "Leader" of the Blood Gulch Outpost Alpha. If you ask me, he's the most incompetent team leader in this base with a hair trigger temper. Still waiting for Command to accept my request to becoming leader. The dark blue one's, Caboose or Michael if the name's too weird for you. He's lacking some brain cells. Probably from a bullet to the head, but he's alright when he gets the job done. The bright yellow is Kaikaina. Now keep your distance from her, she's a disgrace to women everywhere. The only thing she talks about is having sex. But not as worst as the aqua guy named... Tucker: 'Sup. Weiss: Sigh, Tucker.

Tucker approached the two, with his eyes fixated to Blake since the time she arrived here. She looks like the type whom he can hooked up her with her easily. He delivers his signature one-liner.

Tucker: Hey, baby. Never met one with cat-ears before. Maybe you can hear the cry of nature through them asking you to... Blake: I'm married and have two children back at home, thank you very much. Tucker: Fuck... do you still wanna hang out? Church: Alright, Gary, enough with the insults. Let's cut to the chase. First off, how did you survive the blast and more importantly, where's Tex? Gary: I would tell you, once Caboose stops attempting to punch me. Caboose: Take that! And that! And that!

Caboose's fists passed through, Gary's holographic body to no effect at all.

Church: Stop it, dumbass. Caboose: Okay. Church: Now will you explain? Starting from the time when Andy blew up. Gary: As you wish. Luckily I've prepared a small presentation designed to easily explain my creators to what had transpired from the base I was in. Caboose: Oh give me three minutes, I'll get the popcorn. Kaikaina: Wait, we have popcorn? Tucker: Of course we do. It's popcorn, not a strip club. Kaikaina: Sigh. Someday.

Three minutes later and Caboose returns with the bowl of popcorn.

Blake: I only got here and met these people an hour ago, and I don't understand what's going on. Weiss: Me too. Hey Church. Would you mind telling us the whole story here? Church: It worked with a guy named, Wyoming and tried to kidnapped Junior. That's all. Weiss: Gee, you're helpful. Caboose: Don't worry, I'll tell you the story. Weiss: Thank you, Caboose. Gary: As you all already know, I am the one who tricked you all into thinking that I'm a computer intelligence made a dead alien race which never existed and in reality worked with Wyoming to use the alien to manipulate his race as a savior and win the war. Church: Duh, who else doesn't remember that? Blake: Uhm... Weiss: Ahem. Church: Oh except for these two.

Gary creates a holographic screen big enough for the Blues to see. There's a title at the left upper corner which reads: "My Story: A PowerPoint Journey". The first slide he showed is a crudely drawn scene as if it was made by a three year old kid in his first attempt on Microsoft Paint. This made some of the Blues to laugh, Caboose makes better art than this! It depicts what looks like the pelican flying toward a base with an unknown trifoil logo on it. The Blues have never seen it, but Blake has. It was the same design she saw from the base she landed at.

Gary: Moments after, Andy exploded. The ship veered off course and coincidently crash landed on the Project Freelancer Operational Command Center. Kaikaina: Project Freelancer? Tucker: Aw crap... there's a base full of those fuckers?! Gary: Yes. Church: What about, Tex is she alright? Gary: She was dead when it crashed. Church: Sigh... crap.

The second slide shows Tex lying on the ground with a black box written with the words... well... "Black Box" on it.

Gary: The staff managed to recover Tex's corpse and the black box containing Sheila, Omega and me. They stored us inside containment before the Director decides what to do with us. Church: Director? Who's that? Gary: He is in charged with Project Freelancer.

The third slide shows, white armored soldiers running for their live as something, what looks like a generator, behind them gets blown up or catches fire. Drawing's aren't so detail don't blame me.

Gary: Few days after the crash, one of the base's generators overheated, causing a chain reaction that freed me and Omega. No one knows how it happened but it is suggested that this wasn't a coincidence.

The fourth shows one of the soldiers laughing evilly over his dead comrade as the base behind him was on fire.

Gary: After we were freed, Omega started possessing the staff and killed them off, one by one, until Utah was left alive. I hid within one of the computers to hide from the chaos. For days I've waited for rescue until I met Blake. Does that answer your question?

Everyone are silent by Gary's story. Some don't believe him since his a liar, others were wondering whether he's really telling the truth. But the one thing that they all agree, is that Omega is back and is now somewhere on this planet wrecking havoc. Weiss and Blake, on the other hand, was not getting any sense of this.

Weiss:... Caboose: I like the last part. Kaikaina: O'Malley's back. That's bad right? Church: OF COURSE IT'S BAD! Weiss: O'Malley? Caboose: Oh that's what we call, Omega. The angry AI that tried to kill all of us. Blake: Wait a minute, you lied about being the base's computer system? Gary: Surprise, dirty shisno. Ha Ha Ha. Tucker: We told you he's a liar. So, where's O'Malley now and don't try lying this time! I'll tear of that AI chip from that armor and smash it with a hammer! Gary: Okay okay. I do not know where he is. I haven't seen him after the killing subsided. Church: Shit. Then he could be anywhere and inside any person on this planet. Tucker: But what of that 'Project Freelancer' stuff? Sounds like a military experiment. Church: I think he's referring to that classified military experiment, Tex took part in. The one where they implanted O'Malley into her armor. Weiss: AI implantation? I heard about that back at the Academy but it's very risky. What's a research like that doing on this war torn planet? Unless... this war is perfect place to run a military experiment. Church: That sounds like a plausible theory. But let's get to that later. For all we know, O'Malley's loose out there and his probably planning to take revenge on us. And the worst part, we don't know where he is. Caboose: Maybe we can ask the white guy the cat lady brought. Tucker: Hey good idea! He was from the base and probably the last person to saw O'Malley. . So where is he now? Blake: I had to lock him up in your base's janitor's closet. Tucker: The janitor's closet? Uhh... did you notice anything... off? Blake: No, just dirty mops. Tucker: Phew! Church: You disgust me, man. Well at least we got a lead. Blake: I'd advice you guys to be cautious. He's not mentally stable right now. Church: Thanks for the advice, lady. Tucker, Kai. Come with me. Kaikaina: I'll be the bad cop. Church: And NO strip teasing! Kaikaina: Pfft, asshole. Church: Caboose, Weiss. Take good care of our guest and keep an eye on, Gary, will ya? Caboose: Can I burrow your eye? Church: No.

Church, Tucker and Kai leaves the room.

Blake: I can't believe you just lied to me. Why would you do that after I found you? Gary: Well I didn't want to stay there forever so I had to use you. Blake: And that part of you going offline was a lie too? Gary: What? No. That was not originally part of the plan. I almost died if you hadn't removed me. Weiss: This is what I hate about military AIs. They're too human like to be controlled. Blake: I taught at one point you were interested in Dr. Catherine Halsey's theory of AI flash cloning? Weiss: Heh, true. But that's because Cortana was modeled after a human brain. So, Caboose. Now can you tell us what exactly transpired here before we both came? Just tell us the whole story. Caboose: Yay, storytime! This is going to fun. So you see, it started with me arriving at Blood Gulch and this tank lady named, Sheila...

Thirty minutes of the Blood Gulch Chronicles

Caboose:... and I said, "I meant why are we up here in the sun, when we could be standing down there in the shade". And then we stand under shade. The End! Weiss:... Blake:... Weiss:... This might take some time for me to process. Blake: Definitely. Though I kinda like this Doc. He's a very nice guy despite being possessed by a raging computer program.

Clearer Version: https://www.deviantart.com/necroceph/art/Slideshows-RWBY-RVB-860686887

Deviantart: https://www.deviantart.com/necroceph

#weiss schnee #blake belladonna #michael j caboose #rwby #monty oum #Rooster Teeth #Red vs Blue

16 notes · View notes

grasslandgirl · 4 years

Note

oooo i sent it more as a fix prompt but also from one adhdhead to another i’m glad we agree!! thinking about sam and peter study dates

ahhhh fvbjsjvkbjf im so dumb i’m sorry i saw “adhd sam” and my brain just yelled YEAH. RADICAL. and that was it kjdvskfj

that being said i’ve been haunted by ricky montgomery’s Line Without a Hook + eldonado since yesterday so........ hmmm.... (oh no this got wildly out of hand)

-----------

Peter threw himself wholeheartedly into anything he worked on. It was just how he was built. Peter was either on or he was off, and it was hard to get him to change course once he was en route. Head down, eyes narrowed, his whole body angled down at his computer like if he got his face close enough to the screen, it would start streaming information right to and from his brain. His hair would flop, unnoticed, into his eyes and he would shove his glasses so far up his nose that Sam would worry he was going to bruise his nose.

All this to say, of course, that study dates were something of an occupational hazard when you were best friends with Peter Maldonado.

And also secretly in love with him.

Well, mostly-secretly. Secretly to Peter, and probably only Peter, because Sam was 90% sure everyone else was in on the secret and knew how hopelessly gone Sam was for his oblivious best friend. Gabi was the only one who ever said anything to him about it, though. So, little victories.

Finals were looming over their heads like a dark storm cloud. Looming on the horizon, fucking with barometric pressure just enough to make everyone jumpy and nervous. Peter worked well under pressure- which was a good thing, because Sam knew Peter put more pressure on himself than anyone else did- but he would always show up the night before a big exam and demand that Sam help him study. It was so commonplace after seven years of friendship that Sam didn’t question it anymore. Mostly.

There was always that small, hopeful, and nervous voice in the back of his head asking why Peter always studied with Sam when he studied just as well on his own. The only answer he could think of was that Peter knew Sam studied better with him there. But that wasn’t- that couldn’t- Sam always shut that annoying little voice down before it spiraled any further.

It didn’t do anyone any good to overcomplicate things that were objectively very simple. Peter liked routine, they were best friends, Sam was the only one who could talk Peter down from an academics-induced panic attack at 2 in the morning the night before a final exam. 2 + 2 = 4. Simple math.

Sam was slumped on his back, halfway falling off his bed with his head and shoulders draped over the side of his mattress. The notebook he was supposed to be reviewing was abandoned, sitting on his stomach. Peter was sitting at Sam’s desk, leaned over and scowling at his laptop.

It was unfair, really, how pretty Peter looked illuminated by the blue-white light of his notes document. Sam had the perfect view of Peter’s upside down profile, all furrowed eyebrows and clenched jaw and dark hair that’d had hands run through it too many times. It was late and Sam’s brain was wrung out and exhausted, only able to focus on Peter’s expression as he mouthed whatever obsolete moment in history he was trying to commit to memory, and the looping chorus of a Carly Rae Jepsen song he’d had stuck in his head for the last two hours.

A big part of being friends with Peter Maldonado was knowing when to draw the line.

“Pete, dude.” Peter looked up, blinking away the lines of notes Sam could almost see in his eyes. “It’s the middle of the night. Either we know it or we don’t at this point.”

“You think we should cut our losses?”

“I know you can survive on three hours of sleep and five cups of coffee, dude, but I can’t.” Sam tapped himself on the forehead. “This baby needs r&r or I can’t fucking function.”

“Right, right. What time is it?”

Sam sat up- an impressive showcase of his abs that Peter didn’t notice, of course- and dug around in his rumpled comforter for his phone. “12:30.”

Peter sighed heavily, tipping his head back against the headrest of Sam’s computer chair. “I should go home.”

“Dude. Just-” Sam was his own worst enemy sometimes- “just spend the night.”

“Yeah? Your moms won’t mind?”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure they assumed that’s what was happening when you showed up after dinner.”

It was probably just a weird reflection from the computer light on one of Sam’s posters onto Peter’s face. There was no way that Peter was blushing.

“Anyway,” he continued, shoving his textbook and notes off of his bed instead of looking at Peter, “I’m gonna drive you tomorrow anyway, right? Saves me a trip.”

Peter closed his laptop with a soft click. “Yeah, sure, if it’s not-”

“It’s cool, dude, don’t be weird. Just two bros-”

“Chilling in a hot tub?”

Sam prayed Peter couldn’t see the hot blush he felt rising to his cheeks. Five feet apart cause they’re not gay. “Whatever you want, dude.”

Peter knew Sam was gay. He was the first person Sam had come out to- followed closely by Gabi and his moms. But there was a difference, Sam was sure, to having your best friend be gay versus having your best friend be gay and in love with you. An invisible line in the sand that would shift their relationship forever. Sam didn’t want to test how that shift would happen. Didn’t want to risk losing his best friend on the off chance that he wasn’t alone.

“Right.” Peter repeated.

They went to bed in pieces: Sam pulling on an old pair of sweatpants and throwing one to Peter, Peter neatly stacking all his notes on one corner of Sam’s desk, Sam kicking all his schoolwork to the edges of his bedroom floor as opposed to the middle of it, Peter brushing his teeth with the same toothbrush he’d kept in the Ecklund house since they were ten, Sam turning off all the lights, Peter wandering back into his bedroom, Peter’s hair turning to gold and ink in the faint streetlight coming in from the window, the two of them curling up back to back in Sam’s bed just like they always did.

And then it was dark and quiet and all Sam could hear was the faint sound of Peter’s breathing beside him. The warmth from Peter’s back mere inches from Sam’s. They’d fallen asleep next to each other a million times, but Sam still felt electric with the proximity. How easy it would be to just- stretch his legs out and wind his feet with Peter’s, to flip over and press his nose into the soft place where his hairline met the back of his neck, to whisper something hopeful and mortifying into the still night air and hear Peter’s breath catch in silent response.

Sam stayed still, held himself perfectly motionless lest he finally show his hand. And eventually, they both fell asleep.

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

Peter woke up surrounded by Sam. The pillow he’d pressed his face into smelled like Sam’s hair and the sheets on his bed were the same tacky Star Wars ones he’d been so proud of in the seventh grade and the bed was warm with Sam’s body next to him. For an instant, Peter let himself consider it: waking up next to Sam like this every day. Falling asleep with his arms wrapped around Sam and waking up with his head on his chest.

He squeezed his eyes shut against the glaring dawn light, and against the daydream that quickly threatened to spin out of control. He could still hear Sam’s sleep heavy breathing behind him.

Slowly, Peter sat up in bed, pushing his hair out of his face and scrounging the nightstand as quietly as he could for his glasses. He allowed himself a single glance at Sam- sleep soft and sprawled out on the bed, his hand inches from where Peter’s shoulder had been, like he’d been reaching out in his sleep- before standing up and grabbing his phone from where he’d left it charging on the desk.

“Sam.” Peter poked his shoulder. “Sam.”

He groaned incoherently, but rolled over, which was a good sign.

“You have to get up, dude.”

“Breakfast?” Sam mumbled.

“Yeah,” Peter laughed a little, “I’m sure your mom’s making breakfast.”

“Urrgghhh.”

Peter grabbed the clothes he’d left in the corner the night before and pulled an old t shirt out of Sam’s closet. “I’m stealing a shirt.”

“Oh,” Sam said, half sitting up and blinking the sleep out of his eyes. “Yeah- good, okay.”

“I’m gonna go-” Peter gestured weakly towards the door, and beyond it, the bathroom. Sam peered up at him, the light from the window hitting his face in a single pane, like something out of a sun-soaked French movie. Like this was the moment where one of them broke the uncertainty, the silence. Peter could see the scene unfolding in his mind’s eye, like he’d seen it a hundred times. He’d say something like, did you sleep well? And Sam would answer, better with you here, and Peter would oh-so-slowly close the distance and drop his jeans to the floor and Sam would arch up and meet him halfway and the camera would pan away, leaving them both washed in the golden early-morning light. “Bathroom. I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” Peter said, and closed the bedroom door behind him.

He splashed water on his face and combed through his hair with his fingers, throwing on yesterday’s jeans and Sam’s t shirt under his sweatshirt and hoping it wasn’t obvious to anyone else how badly Peter wished every morning could be like this.

He left the bathroom quickly and perched on the edge of Sam’s bed, scrolling through twitter while Sam did his hair in the bathroom.

Breakfast was quiet and normal and filled with the usual mini-dramas in the Ecklund house. Kara didn’t want PB&J for lunch and one of Sam’s moms left the flat iron on in their bathroom and Leah almost burned the eggs and Sam spent half of breakfast finishing the math homework he’d almost forgotten he had.

Sam drove them both to school early for the Morning Show, laughing and singing along to his “perfectly composed drive to school playlist,” and the rest of the day went on normally. He took his history test and saw Sam in math class and they sat with Ming and Randall and Phil at lunch.

But all the while, Peter couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. He’d had... feelings for Sam for a while, unquantifiable and nebulous. He’d categorized them all: the way his stomach twisted when Sam smiled at him crookedly, the skipped beat of his heart when Sam slung his arm around Peter’s shoulders, how his hands got clammy when he caught Sam watching him out of the corner of his eye, how he always found ways to hangout during and after school. But he’d never dared to name the feeling. Defining it meant- meant he should do something about it. Made it real.

But that morning, waking up next to Sam, borrowing his t shirt to wear to school, falling asleep next to each other- they were all things they’d done a million times before. Peter’s chest ached with the normalcy, the domesticity of it.

Peter’s fingers itched to try and piece it all together, his feelings and Sam’s and their history together. String it all together on a corkboard until it made sense. But Peter knew it wouldn’t work. Not without Sam there to see the bigger picture in the first place. It’s why they worked so well together; Peter would gather and organize all the information, but Sam was the one that knew how to put it together, knew how to see the forest from the trees in a way Peter never could on his own. Even if he tried to map out the snarl of feelings in his chest, Peter knew he’d be left with a labyrinth of post-its and red string without Sam there to untangle it for him.

Dramatic irony, he supposed.

Peter caught the bus home, Sam had something for theatre after school, and spent the entire ride with his music turned as high as it would go, trying not to think about Sam as he stared out the window.

The problem, Peter realized, with being a self-professed movie lover, is that your brain starts to treat life like a movie. He could imagine a dozen different ways his life could spiral out from this moment, a dozen different movie time-lines he could find himself in. The tragedy, where he never tells Sam and lives his entire life in uncertainty. The drama, where he tells Sam and it tears their friendship apart. The tragic love story, where he and Sam are together and happy until they’re not. The comedy, where Sam laughs him off and they go back to their friendship with a tiny crack between them, spackled over with laughter that’s just a little strained.

The romantic comedy, where everything goes perfect and they ride out into the sunset.

Life wasn’t like the movies, though, nothing ever went as simple or as straightforward or as cinematic. There isn’t a director behind the camera who can call cut and change the scene halfway through. There aren’t any sweeping cinematic shots with atmospheric indie pop playing in the background.

It was just Peter, and Sam, and the creeping uncertainty hanging between them.

Right before dinner that night, Peter got a text from Sam.

sam: thanks for the study help last night, felt good about the test today

sam: don’t stress i know youre freaking out about it too

sam: you did great on the test pete i know it

Peter blinked at his phone, at the unspoken I know you hidden inbetween the lines. Sam knew him better than anyone, knew his habits and his worries and his annoying little tendencies. And he was still there.

And that, Peter realized, said more than anything else.

Love wasn’t a panoramic of a passionate kiss at sunset. It was knowing someone, learning them backwards and forwards, all the good and the bad pieces of them. It was staying, not despite everything, but because of it.

Peter loved him. It was as simple and as complicated as that.

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

The doorbell rang at the end of dinner. Sam rushed to get to the door before his sisters- if he was lucky, it was their batty old neighbor Mrs Gorschtt and she would prattle on for fifteen minutes about her cat, shove a cake into Sam’s hands, and get him out of having to help clean the kitchen.

But when he opened the door, it wasn’t Mrs Gorschtt standing on the front porch, it was Peter.

“Hey, dude, what’s up? We don’t have like a math test tomorrow I blanked on, do we?”

“Huh?” Peter blinked at him, “No, no.”

“So, what’s up?” Sam stepped out onto the porch beside Peter, closing the front door behind him. Maybe he could still get out of washing the dinner dishes.

“Uh- so, the thing is-” Peter muttered, twisting one of the strings from his hoodie between his fingers. Sam’s stomach dropped; something was wrong. Peter was nervous, uncertain about something. He wasn’t looking Sam in the eye, and he had one arm wrapped around his stomach like a shield. His head started spinning with a million different things Peter could be upset about, but the thing Sam kept coming back to- he knew.

Somehow, Peter had finally figured him out. And he was coming to tell Sam- what? That they couldn’t be friends anymore? That Sam had made it weird?

“Pete-” Sam started, trying to cover his bases, trying to fix this before his best friendship in the world went up in flames.

“You’re the only one who calls me that.” Peter interrupted, finally looking at Sam.

“What?”

“Pete. You’re the only one.”

“I- we’re friends, dude, I’m allowed to have nicknames.” Sam tried to laugh, but it sounded forced, even to his ears.

“I- I know,” Peter’s eyebrows were furrowed, and he was staring at Sam like he was a page of history notes he was trying to memorize. “I got your text.”

“Oh, uh okay.”

“Sammy, I uh, I have to say something, and I want you to promise you’ll let me finish.”

Sam’s stomach dropped even further. Here it was. The end of everything. “Right,” he tried to smile at Peter, “sure dude, whatever you need.”

Peter nodded. “You’ve been my best friend since the fifth grade. You know all of my secrets, all the bad things that I don’t tell anyone else. You know that I don’t like orange-flavored things because I had too much orange-flavored medicine as a child and that I stay up too late studying the night before a test and I panic after I finish taking it. You watch movies I recommend, even though you think High School Musical 2 is the best movie ever made, you- god-” Peter scrubs his hands through his hair, clenching his eyes closed briefly- “this would be so much easier if I could just- you can see the big picture. Like with this you could just- take the words, the discrete pieces of data and put them together. Make it cohesive, coherent. I’m not making sense,” he muttered.

“Pete-”

“I don’t want to just spend the night after study dates.” Peter blurted out abruptly. His face froze, like he wasn’t sure what he just said, like he was terrified Sam was going to misunderstand. “I- I mean. I want to do real dates. With you. And spend the night and wear your clothes and have my hoodies smell like you and watch you spin around in the morning show chairs without having to worry about you catching me and I want to see you without gel in your hair and I want to lean against you when we have movie nights and-”

“Pete.”

“Sammy,” Peter said, kind of breathless. “Go on a date with me.”

“Like a study date?” Sam said, also kind of breathless.

“Like a date-date. Please.”

“Yeah. Yeah, just- come here-” and then Sam’s hands were on either side of Peter’s face and his fingers were in his hair and Peter’s hands were caught in Sam’s sweater and then-

Peter kissed like he didn’t know all the answers, for once, and he was okay with it. Peter kissed like he was memorizing everything about the moment. Peter kissed like he was planning on replaying it like an old video tape, over and over until the tape wore thin and tore. Peter kissed like he could hear the orchestra playing behind them, like they were in some cheesy made for tv rom com and were about to get their happy ending.

Peter kissed like Sam was his happy ending.

Finally, they broke apart- more to catch their breath than anything else.

“Hell of a study date,” Sam breathed, unable to stop smiling.

“Shut up.” Peter was smiling, too.

And, leaning back in, Sam did.

16 notes · View notes

onmykneesforhotdilfs · 4 years

Text

💫 Dance with the devil 💫

She forgave him.

At first, even she didn't know why. Perhaps him being the only survivor of Domino besides herself at a time played a vital role. But they weren't alone anymore. She could have gotten rid of him when the battle was over. That was, at a time, a term she agreed on. He helped her restore Domino and then he leaves magic universe forever.

He helped them during battle with the Ancestrals. When everyone else had succumbed to the darkness and their worst fears, he was the only one left standing besides herself. The witches tried manipulating him, but somehow his sheer will not to be under their control, not to be their pawn was enough to keep him sane when she needed him the most. He proved himself to be a redeemed man, he was no longer power hungry megalomaniac that not so long ago managed to shake the entire magic universe enough to have kings, queens and officials of all planets in the said universe trembling in fear.

Oritel and Miriam were not thrilled when they saw him after exiting the portal from Obsidian. She could see, even now, 17 years later, the underlying fear in their eyes when they first laid their gaze on him. Her mother clung to her husband and Oritel put a protective hand on her waist while he simultaneously pushed her slightly behind himself. But Valtor made no move to do anything, instead he, on the sheer surprise of everyone and especially Bloom, strode towards the king and queen and then proceeded to kneel in front of them with his head bowed. He asked for forgiveness, which was something that caused even her sister's spirit to turn to Bloom with surprise written clearly across her translucent face.

At first, her parent were reluctant, but as the time flew by and Valtor remained docile and calm, little by little they started warming up to him. He still had passion for magic, however. That was clear to everyone, but as he made no move to take anything by force and instead he asked, quite nicely, to study the magic that was of interest to him, people started relaxing around him.

The girls, Winx themselves, learned to accept his company. Stella and Flora were the first to accept the wizard into their circle of friends. Layla, unsurprisingly, had the most difficult time adapting to the change, which was understandable and even something Valtor himself understood. He was the one that nearly caused the destruction of her whole planet, so he couldn't exactly blame the girl for not wanting to be his friend. But with time, even Layla adapted and Bloom could see a subtle changes in her behaviour, how she would sometimes sit next to him and even hit his shoulder when he made a joke. They even bonded over their love for exercise, something Bloom wouldn't have guessed in a million years, but it shouldn't have come as a surprise because Valtor was built. They often went on morning jogs near the Alfea.

He bonded with Techna thanks to their knowledge of technology. That raised a lot if eyebrows among the members of the Winx club because they all assumed Valtor was a bit of a, well, technophobe. Boy were they surprised.

He didn't have too much in common with Musa, but you could find them discussing certain genres of music form time to time.

Besides Bloom, he got along the best with, surprisingly, Stella. The fairy of shining sun and moon was the first to accept him, so she took the initiative to 'bring him out of his shell' as Stella had put it. Valtor never considered himself shy, but as he spent some time with the Solarian fairy he realized that, at least compared to her, he was a total introvert. Bloom once got a shock of her life when she entered their dorm and she found Valtor sitting in front of the couch, his back in between Stella's legs, while Stella was sitting on the couch braiding his hair. Both Bloom and the duo on the couch froze and their wide eyes darted between each other until Valtor broke the silence.

"Not a word." His voice was calm but it spoke volumes.

Bloom shook her head. "Trust me, even if I told someone, they wouldn't believe me." With a smirk thrown their way, she entered her room and left them to their business.

With Flora, he chose to spend quiet evening drinking tea. Valtor had to admit, even though the nature fairy was quiet and shy in nature, she mad an excellent tea. Bloom often joined then and the three sipped their tea in silence.

Now, Valtor had an interesting relationship with Bloom. Number one enemies, turned allies, turned friends. It was a rocky relationship, but their bond was the strongest out of them all. The dragon fire had something to do with it too, but it was mostly just the two of them. The air sometimes turned awkward, but that was mostly due to one of them entering a new territory. And there was this one time he walked in on her while she was in the shower... Funny story.

He just returned from his morning run with Layla earlier than expected. He wanted to get his hands on a spell book he recieved from Faragonda per his request. His relationship with the headmistress was still rocky, but they managed. She was polite enough to grant him access when he asked nicely and Valtor was polite enough as long as it got him what he wanted. He was good now, but that didn't mean he had abandoned his manipulative ways completley when he wanted something.

He shed his shirt, a green short sleeved number - courtesy of Stella - and entered the bathroom. The shriek brought him back to ground and when he looked up he got an eyeful of toned pale flesh and red hair. His eyes ran over the curves of her breast and hips before descending to eye those long legs. Bloom shrieked once again.

"OH MY GOD! GET OUT! WHY ARE YOU STILL STANDING THERE?!" Valtor shook himself and muttered a curse and apology, before running out of the bathroom. He leaned against the wall, Bloom's naked body still vividly painted in front of his eyes, breathing heavily and trying to stop the unwanted reaction his traitorous body wanted to conjure. He slammed his head into the wall, pain blurring his vision, before sliding down the wall to rest on the floor.

When Bloom got out of the shower, she was dressed and Valtor had moved to the couch. She slid in next to him and looked at him. His head was resting in his hands that were propped on his knees, his eyes obviously trying to avoid hers and was that blush on his cheeks?

"I'm sorry." His voice was so small that Bloom wondered if it actually came from the big bad wizard that had the ambition to become the biggest magic sorcerer in the entire magic universe.

She laughed and squeezed his knee. "It's ok. It happens."

His eyes caught hers. "I messed it up didn't I?"

Her brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

He sighed and his shoulders slumped. He looked like he was holding the weight of an entire universe at his shoulders. She felt sorry for him. "I made it awkward again."

At this she had to laugh again. Valtor was having a morality crisis. Just because he saw her naked. Well ok, he ogled a bit, but what's the harm? He didn't try anything. "Don't worry about it. We are good." She assured him.

She saw his shoulders relax and his mood lifted. He looked her in the eyes this time when he spoke. "Alright, if you say so princess. Mind if I take a shower now?"

She laughed. "Go ahead."

He got up, bent down to retrieve his shirt, which Bloom only now noticed he wasn't wearing and made a bee line to the bathroom. He stopped at the doorway and turned to her, cheeky look on his face and a mean glint in his eyes. "You know, now that I've seen you naked, it's only fair for me to return the favour."

Bloom went bright red and she flung a pillow in his direction. It never reached it's target, but his laugh could have been heard on the next planet.

Aside from that, there were no other major incidents, but during their stay on earth, while they were searching for the last earth fairy, their friendship turned even friendlier. So much so, it caused a rift between Bloom and prince Sky. For the benefit of both of them, they decided to terminate their relationship but they remained friendly. Sky, however, kept a close eye on him.

Valtor made friends with Roxy, the last earth fairy. She, of all people, was the first to point out closeness between Bloom and him. She was also the first person that made Valtor rethink his feelings. She was the one that planted the seed of doubt concerning their friendship which resulted in Valtor siting in the dark three nights in a row pondering over their interactions.

That's how Bloom found him the third night, siting in the dark, staring at nothing in particular. She made her way over to him and grabbed his shoulder to get his attention. His arm shot up and grabbed her wrist in a bone crushing grip, but released her when he saw her wince. She sat herself on the couch next to him and they spent half an hour in silence.

"Can't sleep?" Her raspy voice broke through.

He shook his head in response. She laid her head on his shoulder and it wasn't long before her breathing evened out and she fell asleep. Valtor looked at the girl. He couldn't deny it. She was beautiful. Even though he was never a guy that was particularly picky with looks, there was no denying the fact that the keeper of the dragon flame was a gorgeous specimen. She was smart, probably the smartest of her group. While Techna had the IQ, Blooms street smarts combined with the academic work made her the most reliable. And she was strong, but naive at the same time. She trusted that red, wannabe wizard, Ogron and his buddies and they played her like a well tuned guitar. She blamed herself for what happened to Nabu for a while, but everyone convinced her it wasn't her fault.

Valtor shook his head. Exhaustion was slowly creeping back to his bones and he found himself drawing closer to the redhead, seeking warmth while his eyes closed and he let the sleep over take him. That's how the rest of the Winx found them, snuggled up on the couch. Valtor laid on his back, his braid that Stella maid yesterday still intact, his arm protectively thrown over Bloom's waist, her head resting on his chest, legs intertwined. Flora took the liberty to capture the moment. Valtor and Bloom won't find about that photo for the next couple of months.

When he woke up he was certain his feelings for the redhead changed, but what about her? Did she feel the same way? That's when he noticed he was really warm and that a slight pressure rested on his chest. He looked down and was met with two sapphires staring into his own grayish blue eyes. Her cheeks were as red as her hair and she was fidgeting with the ruffles on his shirt. She stammered about not wanting to get up so he didn't wake up and then made a hasty apology and fled the living room.

Their relationship changer after that. The looks they were giving each other became longer and filled with something neither of them could recognize. The teasing between them stopped almost completely, something that didn't go unnoticed by neither the Winx or the specialists. But they respectfully kept their mouths shut. Their eyes would connect from across the room and neither would be too keen to break the connection. They would sit closer to each other, some part of their bodies always touching. They weren't awkward, but they also weren't aware of the tension they were emitting, even Stella began to complain about them having a 'boner' for each other.

The fight with Tritanus was a difficult one, made even more complicated with the fact that Valtor wasn't able to join them. The girls obtained Sirenix powers and freed Daphne while Valtor spent most of the time on land waiting for their return and helping them as much as possible from his position.

During that time, there was no time for anything rather than to focus on the mission ahead. And convincing the realms to unite in order to stop Tritanus. That's where Valtor came in play. He was the most capable to deal with these 'ass faced royals' as Musa had delicately put it. He was hesitant at first, but quicky changed his mind when he realized people listened to him. Out of fear or respect, he didn't know, nor did he care to find out.

The tension between Bloom and Valtor rose everyday, but apparently they were oblivious to it.

And then came the time when Bloom foolishly divided the power of the dragon flame between herself and her friends which left her vulnerable and weak. She did her best to hide it, but it all came crashing down at Daphne's recoronation. Fire eaters, beings that were supposed be extinct, rose to extinguish the dragon flame. Valtor, busy fighting these monsters and helping winx, foolishly let Sky take care of Bloom. What he didn't know was that Diaspro of all people, was working with the Trix and Sleina, found out about the little thing underneath the Domino palace called the Vortex of flames. As soon as Daphne warned him about Diaspro, he took off with her and what he found nearly caused his heart to stop. Diaspro was holding Bloom, that didn't as much as twitch in her clutches, hovering above the Vortex. Sky and his cousin were on the ground and fire eaters were slowly closing in on them. While Sky tried to talk some senses into Diaspro, Valtor tried to conjure up a plan to take everyone safe out of this mess, mainly Bloom. His eyes widened when Disapro released her hold on Bloom, sending her plummeting straight into the void. Valtor saw red. He barely registered Sky jumping from the edge to reach Bloom before his cousin saved him. He aimed a powerful beam towards the blonde girl and for a moment he saw terror in her eyes before she vanished. The fire eaters closed in on them and Valtor was kept busy fighting them off instead of jumping over the edge to reach Bloom.

Daphne and Valtor were the only one that were effective against these monsters, while Sky and his cousin tried their best. Valtor felt the ground shake and he heard Sky shouting a name he knew all to well in happiness. He turned around just in time to see her fly over the edge and deliver a powerful spell that destroyed the monsters. She flew to him and he opened his arms so she could slide in. Daphne and Sky were saying something but words escaped Valtor. He took hold of her shoulders and pushed her away from him to examine her for injuries. His eyes ran over he new transformation and he couldn't help but think she looked absolutely gorgeous in it. But the most beautiful thing about her was the smile she sent him. It was a conformation, she was fine.

After the incident party returned to full swing and it wasn't long before music was playing and Bloom was seen dancing with Sky just like before the fire eaters stormed the place. Valtor himself stood leaning on the pillar, drinking scotch, his eyes following Bloom's graceful movements.

It was Miriam, of all people that joined him. She leaned against the same pillar as he and sent him a coy look. Valtor raised one eyebrow. 'What was that about?' Miriam shrugged as to say 'I have no idea what you're talking about.' Valtor shook his head and tirned to watch her dance again. The calm was broken when Bloom's mother spoke.

"You know I can see the looks you are giving her?" Her eyebrows were raised as if challenging Valtor to deny that accusation. He lowered his gaze because he really didn't know how to respond to that. If he tried to fool her, she would just call his bluff, and if Miriam was good at something, she was good at reading people.

Her gaze softened and she spoke in calm voice, "Go dance with her." Valtor looked at her in surprise. She gave him a sheepish smile than took the drink out of his hands and proceeded to drink the remaining content in one gulp. She grabbed his biceps and pushed him on the dance floor causing him to stumble and shot her a nasty glare. He sighed and then made his way over to the middle where Bloom and Sly were still dancing. Sky's eyes lit up when they met his and he spun Bloom so fast she gasped and would have tumbled over had Valtor not been there ready to catch her. She met his gaze.

"Hi." She smiled sheepishly, and in that moment Valtor saw the resemblance between her mother and her.

"Hello." He answered politely, if not a little tensely. He spun her around and then brought her back to him. The whole room was filled with murmurs and whispers as the former megalomaniac and princess of Domino preformed and elaborate dance.

Bloom was surprised. She didn't know Valtor could dance so well. He spun her around, brought her back only to dip her down, making her gasp from the sudden movement. They twirled and danced across the floor, hands and legs grabbed each other, fingers intertwined, gazes locked. At that moment Bloom saw everything Valtor feels for her. Concern, annoyance, admiration, affection. She brought her hands to frame his face making his eyes widen before she suddenly rose on her tiptoes and planted a sweet kiss on his lips.

The music got quiet and the guests followed it's path. Valtor and Bloom stopped dancing in the middle of the dance floor. Valtor warped his hands around her waist and hauled her up so her shoes were no longer touching ground. Her hands waved themselves into his hair, messing it up, but he didn't care. Miriam and Oritel stood on the side, Oritel slightly fuming, but Miriam kept him in check. Daphne stood on the other end of the room, her eyes also on the pair. She smiled. She didn't care as long as her sister was happy. She hoped she could one day find someone like Bloom had.

And in the center of the room, Valtor and Bloom stood, still kissing.

#sparxshipping #valtor #bloom x valtor #valtor x bloom #bloom x baltor #baltor x bloom #bloom #daphne #miriam #oritel #winx faragonda #winx club #winx #stella #flora #techna #musa #layla #sky

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smokahuntis · 4 years

Text

Cantus Avium

cantus avium

Pairing; Poe Dameron x Young!Reader,

Warnings: Fluff, cursing, sexual tension. This is part two in my Tolle Fuga series!

Summery: Both Commanders get a notification out to the Resistance and Poe and (y/n) have a heated moment.

Authors note; if you haven’t read the first part i highly suggest it! Thank you!

Chapter 1: Depone

Both Commanders headed out to the ruined X-wing to salvage what they could from Poe’s coms. (Y/n) being smaller then him was able to get in and out of the broken vehicle much easier, so poe just told her where everything was and she got it. Coming out of the X-wing she grabbed his hand so she didn’t fall into the water of the lake more then she already had.

“I’m going to be honest, Dameron” she said holding out the busted communication system. “ I don’t think we can save this.”

“Damnit, “ he said running his fingers threw his hair, trying to come up with something. “What about yours?” He looked back at her.

“It seems to work somewhat, it’s offline right now but the moment I put it online the first order will be looking for the signal.” She said looking at him. He looked around for a minute trying to think about something to do, the it hit him.

“What if we rewire it?” He said with an eyebrow raised towards her.

“If you can do it properly, it could work.” She said taking off the communications device from her left arm. “It connects to my helmet so if you can get a signal to run threw here you can use the helmet as a mic. “ he took the device and smiled at her kissing her head quickly, Shocking her.

“You’re a genius!” He said walking over to her helmet and a few of the tools they pulled from there ships.

“It... you... never mind.” She said walking over to him, under the over hang. She sat next to him and watched him tamper with the Signal Modulator’s radio frequency. He pulled apart of few wires tampering with the offline mode, a few sparks flying from it.

“Ow!” He said flinging his hand about to cool it from the sparks. She giggle at his actions and took his hand rubbing it.

“Are you okay?” She asked looking up at him finding he’s already staring at her. His deep brown eyes were almost breathe taking in the light of the forest, and his skin glowed slightly from sweat.

“Yea-yea I’m fine, “ he shook his head and looked back at the device in his hands. Tampering with it for another 15 minutes before a sound came out of it and he shuffled over grabbing the helmet quickly putting it on his head. She giggled watching him in her helmet.

—

“They will be here tomorrow ,” he said, the sun had began to set and (y/n) had started a fire under the overhang. He walked over and sat next to her watching the good fire she started. “You okay?” He asked watching her face glow in the light of the fire. ‘She’s beautiful’ he thought, but how could he so easily fall for the Commander of The First Order Fleets, how could he so easily fall for his worst enemy.

“Yea just, cold...” she said looking at him seeing he’s been staring at her for a minute now. “What?”

“You’re beautiful...” he could stop the words from falling from his mouth, he couldn’t hold back anymore. But he caught himself, shaking his head brining him back to reality. “I’m so-“ she cut him off.

“You’re not to bad yourself, Commander Dameron.” She quipped back looking back at the fire. He smirked taking this as an okay to continue. So he slid his hand over her back gently, still not sure of it’s ok to touch her, but she leaned into it, chasing after the warmth of his large hand.

“You know, for years now i have completely despised you,” he said casually causing her eyebrows to furrow.

“Is this you trying to fli-“ he put his finger to her lips gently.

“Let me finish.” He said his eyes glancing at her lips for a second, but she noticed. “I used to think you were a man, and you were a monster, not capable of emotion just like the others.” He pushed hair behind her ear gently, twirling the rest of the strand in his fingers. “But I was extremely wrong, and I’m happy about that, because you are extremely beautiful and that’s the least interesting thing about you,” he paused looking at her, just now realizing he didn’t know her first name, he always knew her by Commander Antal.

“(Y/N)” she said with a light chuckle causing him to smile.

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask...” he said looking at her, the sun completely gone and the only light being that of the fire, and warm and honeyed light it was.

“No it’s fine,” she shook her head softly and played with her nails. “ and thank you. No ones ever... talked like that to me...” she looked down at her hands as his fingers folded under her chin making her look back at him.

“Well I mean it,” he spoke softly drawing her in slowly. “You help save me, when you should’ve killed me” his eyes found her lips again. “ and I’m thankful you didn’t.” His lips grazed hers with the words he spoke, each movement was soft, timid.

“Me too,” she spoke closing the space between them, they met in a confident yet calm kiss. It only grew with passion as it continued, they’d barley known each other yet there was so much emotion. He moved his hands to cup her face gently and she placed her small hands on his chest. Only pulling away when they heard a sound in the forest that was next to them. She grabbed her blaster and he grabbed his rifle. He moved pushing her behind him in a protective manor. That’s when it flew towards them, a Kiros bird. Poe jumped and (y/n) could swear he almost screamed, the whole thing caused her to laugh at him, and him give her a frown before walking back to the fire.

She walked over and sat next to him. “You should get some sleep” she said looking at him.

“Who’s going to watch over you?” He asked raising an eyebrow at her in curiosity.

“I don’t need to be looked over.”

“Well, “ he moved his hand into her hair laying her head on his shoulder. “I’ll take first watch you rest, you need it.” He then wrapped his arm around her shoulder pulling her into him as they leaned back against the rock wall of the other hand.

“Okay.” She said closing her eyes, she hadn’t realized how tired she want until then, but before she completely black out she felt his warm lips meet her forehead one last time.

—

By the time morning had come and the sun was out, they had both fallen asleep his head laying against hers and she’d arms wrapped around him tightly. She woke up first, moving her head seeing poe asleep quietly, a few snores escaping his soft breath. She moved away from his grasp gently, not to wake him, and she walked over to her helmet. Picking up the black and red helmet she’s worn for many years now, she carried it to the lake, looking into the beautiful blue waters it had to offer, before placing it down into it. It sparked and bubbled and hissed, but with those noises her past faded away, she became a new person. Whether it was for her, for Poe, or for the Fate of the galaxy, she didn’t care. She felt a hand being placed on her shoulder and she looked up seeing a messy haired Poe, with a soft smile and glowing skin.

“You didn’t have to do that...” he said looking at her.

“No, I did.” She turned facing him. “It was a reminder I didn’t need, along with this.” She said reaching up tarring the First Order Patch off her sleeve. She let out a sigh of relief. They walked back to the over hang and threw the patch into what was left of the fire, and about that time a beeping sound was heard behind them. Turning around BB-8 made his way to Poe’s feet, leaving the man with a huge smile as he fell to his knees and hugged the small droid.

“BB-8 buddy!” Poe said loudly while hugging the BB unit. His face lit up brightly while he spoke to the droid, it excited (y/n), though not for long as she saw Finn and Rey. Poe jumped up running hugging his friends who hugged him back tightly, but as Rey looked over his shoulder and saw (y/n) she backed away seeing her uniform.

“No no, she’s ok Rey, guys...” he looked at (y/n) and brought her over to them. “Meet Commander Antal, (Y/N).”

“You trust her?” Rey said looking the commander up and down, as if looking for a good reason she should trust her.

“She’s not like the others, she’s good...” he smiled looking at (y/n), Rey and Finn could see the way his face lit up as he looked at her.

“And she’s with us,”

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #poe #star wars x reader #star wars #the mandolorian x reader #rey #finn #the force awakens #the first order #the resistance #fluff #poe dameron fluff

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taekookficrecs · 4 years

Text

hello !! there was another person asking for hs taekook but i accidentally deleted it :(( it was quite old but i hope they still see this!!

your goodbye is my beginning - jhopeg (( 1/1 | E | 22,706 ))

one is bad at being good, the other is too good for his own good

(alt. bad boy!kook gets a taste of the sweet life)

maybe i’m fine with being by myself - misanthrpic (( 12/12 | E | 88,655 ))

jeongguk learns about second chances through kim taehyung.

(or a fic where jeongguk travels back in time to stop taehyung committing suicide)

Forget Me - orphan_account (( 8/8 | E | 21,843 ))

Jeongguk & Taehyung are worst enemies in High School, until Taehyung gets into an accident and has complete memory loss.

Or: Jeongguk realises he's wasted a whole heck of time hating the cutest person on the planet, and he slowly descends into a whipped ball of fluff.

you give me the whole damn zoo - themelonlord (( 1/1 | E | 31,111 ))

“Taehyung, I don’t think this is a good idea,” Jimin complains as he follows closely behind Taehyung, “I mean, what do you know about this kid? He looks like some punk.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes and laughs, “You know better than to judge a book by its cover.” He spots Jeongguk standing by some lockers, probably one of them is his, but he doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere.

“See? He looks lost,” Taehyung points out, “It’s our job, as seniors, to offer a helping hand to new students.”

aka. taehyung learns what it means to have friends, that not everyone is as mean as those bullies that pull on his ears and make fun of his tail.

He’s Always Right There When I Need Him - Cataelyst (( 1/1 | E | 6,629 ))

Just your typical highschool au featuring football star Jeongguk and his cheerleader boyfriend Taehyung having sex in the empty locker room after practice.

Brace Face - Sunflower2 (( 2/2 | N/R | 13,089 ))

Taehyung desperately wants to be popular and Jungkook just wants to see Taehyung smile.

Don’t Let Me Go - tanajj17 (( 20/20 | E | 86,809 ))

Know what helps your chances of getting into a popular district boarding school? Well, whatever it is, not having any family around sure doesn't help. Luck really must be on Jungkook's side for once. Funny how that works.

Enter Kim Taehyung, a fine specimen of the other part of the economy; with charming looks and probably diamonds for gallbladder stones.

And thus, the tale ensues.

you’re the bright side of everyday (me without you just isn’t the same) - piryohae (( 1/1 | G | 7,144 ))

Jeongguk finds Taehyung crying in a bathroom and that's really where it all starts.

Marks on our Skin, Scars on our Hearts - Cataelyst (( 11/12 | M | 75,249 ))

In a world where the sins you commit manifest physically as black marks on your body, Jungkook's unblemished skin allows him to live an easy, monotonous life.

He spends his days slowly descending into boredom and apathy until he meets a sweet boy covered in black marks.

merry christmas, darling - atechamcham (( 1/1 | G | 4,379 ))

when jeongguk draws taehyung's (aka the love of his life's) name in their school's secret santa, he vows to be the cutest goddamn secret santa this world has ever seen.

Can We Be Friends? - QuadeNomen (( 44/44 | E | 215,495 ))

At the age of seven, Jungkook met Taehyung. The strange boy with the agape smile and clothes far too big for his tiny frame weaved his way into Jungkook's life, becoming the world to the younger... but that was a long time ago. Years have passed. Years filled with far too much pain to turn a blind eye to. But Taehyung is back. And maybe Jungkook still needs him.

there’s no need to play pretend - taetrash (( 1/1 | T | 3,381 ))

Taehyung decides to fight the power and he needs the help of Jeongguk's lips to do it.

Lean on Me (I’ll be Your Support) - taecupbunny (( 15/15 | G | 98,929 ))

New year, new experience.

(Or where Jungkook couldn't get enough of a boy with a honey blonde hair and a wide sun bright smile.)

if the full moon loves you - veausy (( 2/2 | T | 22,182 ))

Taehyung hasn’t changed, not to him. Taehyung was beautiful then and he is beautiful now.

i see no one but you (must be something in your eyes) - orphan_account (( 1/1 | T | 5,655 ))

taehyung's in love with the cute boy who works the tech booth.

Base - rainandsun (( 3/3 | M | 8,051 ))

All the athletes in school have an eye on the head cheerleader everyone considers too good to be true but he's too busy getting fucked by the school bad boy.

admin nj - enjoy !! (PLEASE DO NOT ASK FOR FICS THROUGH THE SUBMISSION OPTION!!!!! pls remember this :( we’re trying to clear it out as fast as we can so we can open the ask box again!)

#taekook #taekook fanfics #taekook fic recs #jeon jeongguk #kim taehyung #high school au #vkook #kookv #admin nj

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vanxcks · 4 years

Text

the jasmine dragon, mark ii

“After I reconquer Ba Sing Se,” Uncle Iroh says, smiling, “I’m going to reconquer my tea shop, and I’m going to play Pai Sho every day.”

Zuko nods and tries to imagine the world of tomorrow. Will Uncle get his shop? Will Ba Sing Se be saved? Will it be peaceful, happy, everything Zuko has never known? Or will they be corpses, ashes still smoking somewhere in his father’s fire nation?

It’s a week later. And, miraculously, everything is new.

OR, It's the re-opening day of the Jasmine Dragon.

Words: 3408

AO3 link in notes

“So if I’m going to be Firelord after the war is over, what are you going to do?” Zuko asks. He’s sitting on Appa, hands gripping the reins, and the fur under his legs is a stark contrast to the cold metal of his old ship. It’s strange, now, to remember that it’s only been a year. Twelve months ago, Zuko’s only goal was to catch the Avatar. A life under his father in the Fire Nation was all he thought he wanted. That searing, long-simmering rage was a constant for him.

Now he’s on the side of his former enemy, and they’re preparing to ride into a battle he’s not sure he’ll come out of. The world has turned upside down.

Zuko is pretty sure that’s not a bad thing.

“After I reconquer Ba Sing Se,” Uncle Iroh says, smiling, “I’m going to reconquer my tea shop, and I’m going to play Pai Sho every day.”

“Goodbye, General Iroh,” Suki says.

“Goodbye, everyone. Today, destiny is our friend. I know it.” There’s something in his voice, something warm and angry and hopeful.

The wind is gentle, and there’s a blue sky ahead of them. Sun falls over the soldiers as they stand facing the kids. The world is still, hesitant, waiting.

Zuko clenches his fists on the reins, takes a breath, and they set off.

It’s a week later. And, miraculously, everything is new.

Ba Sing Se is unrecognizable, a joyful clamor of green. Storefronts have been unshuttered and there are children running about. There’s a stall where Katara and a couple villagers have been handing out food and clothing to those who lost their homes to Ozai. There are volunteers cleaning the streets, sweeping up the crumbled earth. It should be a sad scene, a broken scene, but somehow it’s not. Instead, It’s kind, hopeful. In the ashes of the hundred year war, people are preparing for their new life.

When Zuko steps out of the palace, the palanquin bearers come rushing over, but Zuko holds up a hand. “These people are already going to be distrustful of me. I don’t want to look like my father.”

“But the teashop is a long way—”

“It’s okay,” he says, “I can walk.” He’s relieved when they step back without protesting again.

Zuko doesn’t wear his grand robes today, or even tie his hair back. Instead, he’s wearing a modest outfit, and he lets his hair down, although he pushes it out of his eyes every so often so people can see his face. He won’t hide his scar any longer. When some see him, they smile, rush forward. Thank you, Firelord Zuko. or, We are forever indebted to you. Some of them talk about the family that have come back from war unscathed, some just want to thank him for returning their homes to him. He smiles and bows to them, even giving a stiff hug to a little girl. Some, though, are not so friendly. They cast him sideways glares, whisper to their friends as he passes. They turn their backs and close their windows. Zuko looks away, bows his head. He’s not sure he would trust himself either. But that’s okay. His family has done terrible damage to the world in the last century, but he’s going to try and repair at least some of it.

Separate from the people, Zuko enjoys being able to just walk through the city. A week ago was his coronation, and the days since had so much official business to tend to at the palace that he didn’t once step foot outside. Taking care of refugees, repaying damage, and the like. This is a relief. And it’s nice to see the actual citizens of Ba Sing Se for the first time since the end of the war.

There are pieces of paper stuck up on walls, too, denser the closer he gets to the tea shop. Visit the Jasmine Dragon Today! they say, above a mangled scribble of a drawing and an address. Zuko frowns. It doesn’t seem like Uncle to do something like that. He stares at them for a moment and then keeps going.

He reaches the Jasmine Dragon soon enough. It looks good from the outside—the sign is intact, as is the rest of the entryway, outside of a few stains and cracks. This is good. Zuko walks up the steps and knocks on the door twice, proper. It opens wide and Uncle is on the other side, a grin lighting up his face. He throws his arms around Zuko, holding him tightly. Zuko, in turn, melts into the hug, smiling too.

“Firelord Zuko, at my doorstep?” Uncle Iroh asks, stepping away. “Why, this is an honor.”

“Well, I’d finished with my plans, and I wanted to be here today. I know it’s important.”

“Important for me as well as for the citizens of Ba Sing Se. I had forgotten how bad their tea can be. Bitter and flat. I don’t know how they stand it.” He claps a hand on Zuko’s shoulder and leads him into the shop. “But anyway, we have a lot of work to do if we’re going to open tonight! The people are waiting.”

“I’m sure they’ve missed you.”

“They definitely have. Don’t tell him I told you this, but Jiang’s tea shop next door? The worst of the bunch. Remember the tea you made me in the forest?”

Zuko frowns. “I do.”

“Like that, but much worse. Completely flavorless.”

“Ah. Like leaf juice.”

Uncle Iroh chuckles. “Very much like leaf juice. Now, let’s get to work.”

The tea house is in better shape than they might have expected. While Ozai was in charge of the city, there were strict rules about Earth Nation citizens’s businesses. Most local-owned shops were either taken over by fire nation people and rebuilt according to code, and Zuko had been afraid the same would happen to the Jasmine Dragon. Luckily, the place was well-kept enough that the soldiers merely gave it a new coat of paint, and it sat otherwise nearly untouched from the day of the coup. In the past days, Uncle and some of the kids (Katara and Aang, mostly) helped clean up the surfaces and straighten furniture. The place looks nearly as good as new.

“What can I do?”

“You can start by buying some porcelain tea sets for me. We originally had twenty, but some of them were damaged in the last few months,” Uncle says. “Toph helped to draw the dirt off of the fifteen that were still intact.” He gestures to the pots, lined up on the counter behind him and gleaming like they were a day old.

“She’s good,” Zuko says.

“The best of our time,” Uncle says, and his voice carries the warmth it does whenever he talks about Zuko or his friends. “Now, hurry along. I have to set the tables.”

Zuko takes the money that Uncle holds out, smiling, and turns. He’s several steps out of the shop before he doubles back. “Where can I buy the teapots?”

Uncle Iroh chuckles. “I was beginning to wonder if you would remember to ask. It’s to the left, across the park.”

Zuko nods and leaves again.

The park isn’t far, and he’s halfway there when he hears someone behind him, calling his name.

“Zuko! Zuko, back here!” It’s Aang, in new green robes, shoes too big for his feet and a ridiculous hat. He’s waving both arms above his head while he runs, and trips and only just stops himself from falling. “Hey, Zuko!”

“Hi,” Zuko says. “You bought new clothes.”

“Yeah,” Aang cries, falling into step beside Zuko. “Sokka and I went shopping this morning. He got a new bag, and a belt. We got to try the food, too. Have you ever tried an ma po do fu?”

“Yeah. My family took a lot of trips here when I was little. They made us try all the delicacies.”

“Aren’t they great? I thought after the months we spent here I would have had everything, but there’s still a lot more to go. I love the Earth Nation. Have you tried the unfried dough? Not their best.”

“I haven’t, but it sounds terrible.”

“Did you know I inspired that? An Earth Nation village planned to have me fried in oil, but they decided not to when they realised I was the only one who could save them from the Rough Rhinos. I’m starting to wish I didn’t,” he says, fishing a wet lump out of his bag. He takes a small bite from it and makes a face. “You want some?”

“No, thanks.”

They walk in silence for a moment, before Zuko says, “By the way, I wanted to thank you for helping Uncle clean up the tea shop. I’m sure it made him happy.”

“It was fun! And that reminds me. We’ve been spreading the word about the tea shop’s opening so lots of people will show up!”

Zuko smiles. “Thank you for that too.”

“Yeah! We’ve been putting up posters. See, Sokka made them!” Aang holds up a poster like the one Zuko had seen earlier.

“Yeah...are you sure those aren’t the Appa posters you showed me with different writing?”

Aang frowns and squints at the drawing. “No, it’s definitely a teapot. At least, Sokka said it was supposed to be a teapot.”

“Maybe Sokka shouldn’t be doing the art.”

Aang shrugs. “Well, he was enthusiastic.”

“I guess that counts for something. Is that Katara?” There’s a blue figure across the square, and Zuko can recognize her from behind.

“Yeah, I think so! Let’s go talk to her!”

“You go ahead. I need to buy some stuff for Uncle.”

“Okay, see you later!” Aang says, and dashes off. Smiling, Zuko turns into to the porcelainware shop.

The opening is scheduled for five o’clock. When the clock strikes, Zuko looks around. It’s not yet quite the state it was months before—the walls are slightly stained and cracked, and a couple of the teacups he bought had chips in them. But they’ve repainted the outside so that it looks and reads the way it did before, and the egg drop soup that Uncle Iroh has been cooking smells delicious. There’s even a pai sho table in the corner for visitors to play. All in all, they’ve done a decent job. It’s not perfect, but Uncle wanted to open as soon as possible. “We can sort out the details later. As long as the tea is good, people will be happy.”

Zuko stands behind the counter with his hands around a kettle, heating it with a gentle flame. Once it boils, he keeps it the right temperature: hot enough for a slow bubble, but not so hot that it boils over. It took a little bit of practice to get the balance right the first time he’d tried, but now it’s easy. Later, Uncle will keep the water hot, and Zuko will be waiter. After today, of course, he’ll have to be firelord. But today, until Uncle gets paid help, he’s more than willing to pitch in.

Uncle is ready next to him. The tea leaves are loose, kept in tins lined up behind the teapots. He prepares everything on order, so all there really is to do now is wait for people to start pouring in.

The first customer comes soon after five. It’s a little man, a little bewildered-looking, in tiny, thick-lensed spectacles. He sits down at the table closest to the window and pulls out a book, leafing through it and murmuring to himself.

“How can I help you, sir?” Zuko asks.

The man looks up as if he hadn’t realised he was in a restaurant at all. “Could I...well, I guess I’ll have a green tea.”

“And will that be for one person?”

The man cocks his head like he’s trying to understand the question, and then says, “just me, yes.”

“Okay, sir, coming right up,” Zuko says, and rushes back over to Uncle. “Green tea for one, Uncle.”

“A classic,” Uncle Iroh says, spooning the leaves into a pot and filling it with water. When the tea has steeped, he places it on a tray for Zuko, who hurries it over to the customer.

“Your tea.”

“Thank you,” the man says, and then goes back to his reading.

And then fifteen minutes pass, and still the only person in the shop is the spectacled man.

“Do you think he likes it?” Zuko asks, leaning over to Uncle.

“I think so. He smiled when he took his first sip.”

“I think that was a grimace from burning his tongue,” Zuko says, and Iroh casts a dirty look. “I’m sure he liked it.”

Uncle fiddles with the tins of tea leaves, rearranging them by color instead of size. Zuko taps his fingers on the counter.

“Maybe your friends had a hard time spreading the word,” Uncle says.

“Maybe people just don’t feel like tea today,” Zuko says, frowning.

“I know what it is,” Uncle says with a smile, “it still looks like we’re closed. Let me go open the door.”

He does, and then joins Zuko back at the counter. It’s quiet outside, and darkening quickly. Zuko pulls his hair back, considering tying it, and then lets it hang in his face instead. Uncle hums a tune.

They hear footsteps outside and both brighten up. “Hey, maybe that’s someone,” Zuko says.

But it’s just Aang and Katara. “Hi!” Aang cries, and then wilts a little as he looks around at the near-empty shop. “Oh.”

“What’s going on?” Katara asks, brow furrowed. “I thought people loved your tea.”

Zuko looks down.

“I think we’re just having an off day,” Uncle Iroh says.

Katara nods. “I’m sure something’s wrong. I saw your tea shop before, and it was full. I didn’t have time to try the tea, but it smelled amazing.”

“Hey,” Aang says, “I have an idea. What if I got Sokka and Toph and we tried to spread the word?”

“You did that two hours ago,” Zuko says.

Aang shrugs. “Just an idea. Besides, second time’s the charm, right?”

“That’s...not the saying.”

Iroh speaks up. “We would be grateful for your help, Aang.”

Aang breaks into a face-splitting grin. “Thank you, Uncle Iroh!” He grabs Katara’s hand and runs outside and to the right, already yelling about the Jasmine Dragon.

Zuko grimaces. “Why did you tell him that was a good idea?”

“Because it would make him happy to help. And because we need it. It’s never a bad thing to accept help, Zuko, even when you don’t yet believe that help is right for you.”

Zuko looks out the windows at Aang, now doubling back to the left, and hms. Then, there’s nothing to do but wait.

And shockingly, it works. The second customer comes in just five minutes later, with a little boy in tow. Zuko delivers his order to Uncle, who starts heating up the water again. After that, it never goes cold. Another family—this one three kids and two mothers, comes and sits at the table closest to the counter. They order soup to go with their tea. From there, the customers just keep coming. Couples, families, groups of friends. It’s inexplicable, and Uncle and Zuko can barely keep up.

“How are you liking your tea? Is there anything I can do?” he asks one of the mothers.

“It’s just wonderful,” she says.

“Thank you,” Zuko says, bowing his head.

“We just loved this tea house when you first opened, months ago,” the other woman says. “We were so happy to see that it was reopening. Of course, the address on the posters confused us.”

“What do you mean, the address on the poster?”

“It said it was on Mei Hua street instead of Mei Li street. It must have been a mistake.”

Zuko is speechless for a moment, and then he says, “It was. Thank you for coming in spite of it.”

“Of course!” she says, smiling sweetly.

Zuko hurries up to Uncle. “Uncle, good news about—”

He hears another group coming through the door and turns. He opens his mouth to ask how many seats they’ll need, but it’s just Katara, Toph, Sokka, and Suki.

“Hi, Zuko. Uncle,” Katara says, waving and smiling. “We were wondering if there was anything more we could do to help.”

“We,” Sokka says, arms crossed, “were actually on a date. But we’ve decided to grace you with our presence.”

Katara casts him a sideways glare. “By the way, we figured out why business was so bad. Sokka—”

“Wrote the wrong address,” Zuko interrupts. “We know.”

“Actually,” Sokka says, “I asked Toph for the address. Which is where we ran into a bit of an issue.” He glares at Toph.

“I don’t see what the big deal is!” Toph cries, throwing her hands up. “I can’t read signs, remember? I just heard someone say it. It’s not my fault Sokka always forgets I’m blind.”

Sokka pouts. “That’s why you don’t ask the blind girl for help.”

“Yes!” Toph yells.

“People are here now, and that’s what matters,” Uncle Iroh says. “Thank you for the help.”

Katara steps forward. “Aang is outside spreading the word and fixing the posters. Is there anything else you need?”

“You, Toph, and Suki could help me wait tables,” Zuko says. “And Sokka could help make tea.” Uncle Iroh elbows him, and Zuko corrects himself. “Sokka could help heat water. Uncle can make the tea.”

Sokka gasps. “I’m great at making tea!” They ignore him.

They all go to their jobs, and things start to smooth out. The tea house is the warm, bustling hub it was months ago, and Zuko feels ridiculously happy. Aang and Toph come in to help, and Suki and Katara are doing well, and the flow of customers doesn’t ebb.

When he can, Zuko finds a moment to go talk to Uncle Iroh, but before he says what he was planning to say, he notices something and his brow furrows. “What’s Katara doing?” She’s been standing at a table at the other end of the room for several minutes.

“She’s entertaining the children. She’s been doing it for some time now. See?”

Now that he’s paying attention, Zuko does see. She’s bending the tea from the cups and making it spin, dance in front of the childrens’ eyes. They laugh and grab at it, delighted.

Zuko glances around the room. Aang is talking earnestly to an old woman by the window. Toph repairs a dropped teacup for a customer, and Sokka and Suki are in the corner flirting. Sokka tries to tuck Suki’s hair behind her face, but she moves and he hits her eye instead. She laughs and says something, then kisses him quickly. They glance around to make sure no one saw, and Zuko looks away.

He thinks, for a moment, back to his time in the fire nation. His tense hours with Mai, Ty Lee, and Azula. The snide comments, the backhanded compliments. At one point Azula had mentioned his banishment, called him weak, and he’d bitten the inside of his cheek so hard he drew blood. She said she was joking, but he knew she wasn’t. Nothing Azula said was a joke.

“It’s so easy,” Zuko says, almost to himself.

“What do you mean?” Uncle asks, although Zuko gets the feeling that Uncle knows.

“Never mind.” Zuko shakes his head. Then, “Congratulations, Uncle.”

“Thank you,” Uncle Iroh says, looking up at Zuko as he spoons tea leaves into a pot. “When we were ambushed in the palace, I thought my dream of spending my life serving tea was lost. I’m only thankful that we managed to win it back, and I’m more thankful that we won it back together.”

“I’m happy I got to be here today.”

“So am I..”

Uncle Iroh stills his hands, and they look at the scene together, for a moment.

“You have good taste in friends, Firelord Zuko” Uncle says.

Zuko nods, and he lets himself smile before he goes back out to join them.

#fluff #atla #atla fic #zuko #gen fic #friendship #aang #katara #sokka #suki #iroh #yes i only wrote this because iw anted to see more tea shop scenes #happy iroh and zuko makes me cry on the daily #my writing #avatar

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