#and forces someone like me to turn off blaze to *truly* avoid ads | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hurting-fictional-people · 3 years

Text

Ball

CW: burning/branding, noncon/dubcon touching and kissing, mention of past torture, vomit mention (it doesn’t actually happen), implied noncon

Before

Her dress was beautiful. Made of emerald green silk that complemented the red of her hair, a V neck descending to the middle of her breasts, a flowy skirt that lightly touched the ground, a tight bodice. Her hair fell down her back in loose waves, only half of it pulled up and braided with tiny pearls that sparkled when the light hit them. She knew she was stunning. It was hard for anything to feel good at the moment, but being pretty again was almost nice.

“Have I told you that you look dazzling tonight, precious?” Blake whispered, lips touching her ear, hand brushing the small of her back. She held back a whimper.

“We are going to play a little game tonight, Kiara”, he declared, grinning. His expression would be childish if his eyes didn’t gleam with wickedness.

“Wha-what are you talking about?”.

His smile widened as he opened a drawer and pulled out something that looked suspiciously like a fireplace poker, but with a larger tip. She started shivering when he placed its tip among the flames of the hearth and winked at her.

Kiara tried to take a deep and calming breath, but all she really did was bite her lip till she felt copper coating her tongue, hoping it would help her keep her face from frowning.

“Please” she mumbled, her voice so low she doubted he could hear it. But he did. He always did.

“You look pretty when you try not to squirm” was all he said, chuckling softly, pressing his hand against her back. The touch wasn’t especially harsh, yet her breathing hitched and she tried to arch away from him just to stop when she heard him tutting. “Remember our game, sunshine. I would love to meet that sweet brother of yours, but I don’t think you would like our get together as much as I would”.

She scanned the room as discreetly as she could, desperately wishing for someone to see the fear and hurt in her eyes, but the only looks she received were aimed straight at her boobs.

They had just got to the party, but she already felt faint.

“Let’s go greet some of my business partners, shall we?” Blake said gleefully. Kiara tried to focus on not passing out as she let him push her towards a group of men in front of the drinks table.

He was almost jumping up and down when the iron turned red. She was almost vomiting when he showed it to her. The tip of it was shaped like letters. Kiara started begging as soon as she realized what was going to happen.

“Please, please don’t do it. I promise I’ll do anything you want, just- just please don’t”.

Blake didn’t even bother responding as he opened the chain that kept her ankle linked to the wall. She was suddenly yanked from the corner in which she’d been sitting and dragged to the middle of the room. He dropped Kiara right where his center table usually stood, and she understood then why he’d moved it away. She wished she didn’t. She tried to run, but before she could take even a step away, he grabbed her by the waist and pushed her stomach against the ground.

It had been a while since she’d tried to fight him, but looking at the burning iron turning crimson among the flames, she screamed and thrashed, panic making tears fall down her cheeks and turning her movements desperate.

“Stop it, Kiara” Blake bellowed, annoyed. She couldn’t see his face with hers pressed to the ground, but she recognized the tone. He sat on her back, putting all his weight on her till she couldn’t breathe. “Hold still or it’ll be worse”.

“Ple-ease! Blake stop, please, please, p-please”.

“Hold still for me, my precious”.

“Blake!” exclaimed a tall man with blond hair “It’s been too long, my friend”.

“It really has, Andrew”, Blake said, grinning as he shook the man’s hand with the one that’d been pressing against Kiara’s back. She held back a relieved sigh when he took it away.

He proceeded on greeting each one of the men there, commenting on their families or hobbies. She kept her eyes on the floor, wishing to disappear. Unfortunately, neither her stillness nor her wishes kept her from being seen.

“And who is this kitten?” asked the one named Andrew. She only knew it was her he was talking about because suddenly Blake was back at her side and his fingers grazed the bare skin of her back right above where the fabric of the dress ended, right before where the burn started.

“This is Kiara”, Blake said, beaming. “The love of my life”.

She smiled too, hoping it looked real. Knowing it didn’t.

“Nice to meet you, sweetheart”, said another one of his friends, one with a long black beard and malice in his eyes.

“Well, I don’t think she is very pleased with you, Blake”, remarked Andrew, narrowing his eyes with amusement.

She went instantly rigid and forced her eyes to wrinkle and her smile to widen. “I’m sorry, I’m just tired. The ball is absolutely lovely” she stated, willing her voice to sound sweet but firm.

“I’ve been keeping her awake a lot these last nights” Blake joked, winking. All of the men laughed, and she let out the breath she'd been holding ever since he tightened his grip on her waist.

Blake had done a lot to her already. Whipped, drowned, kicked, punched, choked, chained, starved. She’d lost count of all the torments she’d faced, but he had never burned her before. So, when he tore the back of her shirt open and pressed the scorching iron to her lower back, there was nothing she could’ve done to prepare herself.

It was a literal hell. There was no thought, no scream, no tears, no nothing in the world. It was only pain. So vast, so deep, everything faded away.

She went limp at some point. Maybe she passed out, but she couldn’t be sure. She couldn’t be sure of anything but the blazing pain. When she came back to herself, her head was on Blake’s lap, and he ran his fingers through her sweaty hair. Her entire body trembled, and she was in so much pain all she could do was cry soundless tears. Kiara didn’t try to pull away or ask what he’d done. Didn’t have the energy to do anything other than weep. Not even sob, for when she did, her body moved, and it burned.

“So precious” Blake purred, fingers tracing the shape of her ear. “You were so strong for me, my little sunshine”.

“Please”, she moaned weakly. Kiara didn’t even know what she was begging for, but it hurt and she needed it to stop, and she hated his voice and his words and his hands touching her.

Blake chuckled. “Please what, precious?”.

“It hurts”.

“I know it does. It will for some time. But it was so worth it. I truly loved your little noises of pain. They were everything” he said as if that should appease her somehow. If anything, it made her cry harder.

“Please, make it stop” she sobbed, wincing when the movement sent a new wave of pain through her body “Please, Blake, make it stop, I can’t, I can’t take it. Please.” her voice was low and hoarse from screaming, and it hurt to even speak, but her back was pure agony and she couldn’t think right.

“Let’s talk about our game, and then I’ll make it stop” he assured. She closed her eyes and nodded, even though she knew whatever game it was, she was probably better off with the burn.

There were at least three hundred guests at the ball, scattered around the penthouse. People flirted and laughed, chatted, and joked. Kiara used to adore parties. She loved to dress up, feel like a goddess, and spend an entire night drinking and dancing. She would have loved that ball if it weren’t for her captor by her side and the dizziness making her vision blur.

She had to stay awake. Had to resist the burning pain that spread from her back to her entire body. Kiara had never been a good actress, but fear was as good a fuel as any. The smile she glued on her lips was kind and dumb enough to keep most people away, the wrinkles she forced her eyes to form hid the pain behind them and added up to the pleasant expression. Her back was as straight as a stick, but that had nothing to do with the act.

“Drink up” Blake ordered, extending a martini glass to her. There was nothing she could do other than nod and take the glass, taking a small sip hoping it would be enough to please him. The pain only increased with each passing minute and she worried she might vomit at any time.

His dark eyebrows shot up, the warning there so clear she shivered and took a longer sip. Blake continued to stare, though, so she gritted her teeth and drained it. He smirked.

“Good girl” he praised, then brushed his hand against her burnt back and took her to another group of people. She breathed in deeply and smiled through teary eyes as she was introduced to a bunch of new people. One lady came in for a hug, and she clenched her teeth so tightly to avoid screaming she was sure the woman heard it.

“Tonight I’m throwing a ball”, Blake said, playing with a strand of her hair. “You are going to be my date”.

“You burned me” she hissed furiously “Why would I ever go to a ball with you?”.

“It’s cute how you can’t even talk above a whisper and still has the nerve to defy me” he sighed playfully. She hated that she knew his moods just by hearing him sigh, but she did. “Now, back to what I was saying. You are going to be my date, and I’ll introduce you to all of my friends as my gorgeous, loving girlfriend”.

Kiara would have laughed, weren’t it for how bad she was hurting and how feeble she felt. Still splayed on her stomach on the ground, limbs heavy and shaky, she could only snort to show her exasperation.

“You see, I found a charming little house on a really cozy street last night. I even took a picture of it, let me show you”. She opened her eyes to find a cell phone in front of her face, and in it a picture of a two-story house made of red bricks, with plants by the windows and a low white fence in front of it. Dread filled her as she stared at the picture, at the house she knew all too well. “It’s really pretty, don’t you think? I thought about buying it, but the owner might not want to sell it. Maybe I should just kill him and take the house”.

“Please”, she choked out, “please don’t hurt him”.

Gritting her teeth against the pain, she rolled to her side so she could look him in the eye. A cry escaped her lips when her back shifted, and a tear slipped from her eyes, but she only stopped when she could see his face. Her head was still on his lap, but pride was something she hadn’t known for a while now.

“Play the sweet obedient girlfriend at my ball and your brother will be left untouched. Fail, and I’ll decide if I shall bring him here to make you watch as I kill him or if I’ll force you to do it yourself”.

“I’ll do anything. Just, just please leave him alone” she promised, “I’ll go to your ball, pretend to b-be your girlfriend, as long as you don’t come near him”.

“We have a deal, then”, Blake said with a smirk. His hand found hers and brought it to his lips. He placed a chaste kiss on her palm and then started playing with her fingertips. “Do anything and everything I tell you to, and I’ll keep my distance”.

Kiara nodded, and when he helped her to stand up, she leaned into him, letting Blake support her weight while he rubbed something soothing on her back with far more force than needed. She shrieked against his shoulder and clutched his shirt while he tended to her burn, thinking of her brother the whole time, promising herself she would not let Blake near him. She would die before she let him touch Arthur.

“You seem kinda pale, love”, said an old lady, squeezing Kiara's hand, “do you need to go outside for a bit?”.

One look from Blake and she knew what she had to answer. “Thank you, but I really am okay. I think I overdid it on the makeup. It’s my first ball, you see? I wanted to look nice”.

“Oh, I get it” she giggled, patting Kiara’s shoulder. Even that sent a twinge of pain down her body. She smiled rigidly. “Especially with such a handsome boyfriend, eh? Gotta always look pretty for your man”. She grimaced internally but barely registered what the woman was saying as she swayed slightly.

Kiara really needed to sit down. She could feel the bandage stuck to the blazing skin of her back, the burn at the precise spot for the dress to cover it perfectly and for Blake to casually touch it at any time just to watch her trying to conceal a gasp or to remind her of what was at stake if she did as much as annoy him. It was getting harder to stand upright, smile, and talk as if there was nothing wrong. She felt her skin clammy and her legs trembling. If she didn’t sit in the next few minutes, she might actually pass out right there.

She took one step towards Blake, but even that was too much, especially with the high heels he’d made her wear. She stumbled and would’ve fallen down if he hadn’t moved so fast, catching her before anyone noticed what had almost happened.

“I need to sit”, she breathed, letting him support her weight. He held her by the waist, and his entire arm pressed on the burn. Kiara bit her already bruised lip and buried her face against his shoulder to muffle a pained whine. “I’m feeling faint”.

“People are looking at us” he crooned, low enough that only Kiara could hear it “I guess you just don’t love your brother as much as I thought, since you are doing such a poor job as my girlfriend”.

She closed her eyes and counted ten seconds to collect herself, hugging Blake as if he was someone she didn’t feel disgusted by. When she moved away, everyone was staring at them.

Kiara cleared her throat and straightened up. She wrapped her arms around his neck, forcing herself not to flinch as he held her tighter.

“I’m sorry, baby, I’m just so nervous”, she said, quietly enough for it to sound like she was addressing only him, but high enough for everyone close by to overhear. She looked up through her lashes and smiled timidly, then moved closer and kissed his lips. Blake stiffened for a moment before opening his mouth and kissing her passionately. Kiara had intended for it to be just a brush of lips, but she couldn’t back away now in front of everyone. He tightened his grip on her back and she moaned softly against his mouth, the sound swallowed by him before anyone else could hear it. When he finally let her go, she couldn’t bring herself to smile anymore, so she looked away from him, to the crowd watching them shamelessly. She gave them an embarrassed nod and started towards the tables.

Blake caught her hand a moment later and changed the route to the gambling area. Kiara shuddered but didn’t complain. As long as she could sit, she would do anything.

“Nicely played, sunshine” he mouthed into her ear. She pretended not to hear it.

Blake sat down at a poker table and pulled her onto his lap, forcing her back to press against his stomach. She bit back a cry and tried to think of her brother as she was introduced to more of Blake’s friends.

He started playing, and she pretended to not be in pain, or scared, or despondent. She pretended she wasn’t sitting on the lap of her captor, her torturer, the man who had taken so much from her. Who had taken everything from her.

As he went on chatting, gambling, and laughing, she pretended there wasn’t a burn crossing her lower back with his name on it.

96 notes · View notes

sweetestlamb · 4 years

Text

Make Me Crescendo

Summary: Song-ah ponders if there is truly any space left in Joon Young's life for her. Joon Young shows her exactly where her place is.

Author's Note: I didn't expect to enjoy this show as much as I do honestly, I love the dynamic and chemistry between the leads. Most of the other characters could choke for all I care, but I love Song-ah and Joonie, they are goals and they deserve to just run away and be happy. Anyway, I was inspired so this happened. (Please don't leave comments asking about when I'll write more, I'll do it when I can and when I'm inspired for all of my stories. If you are going to leave a comment, you can tell me what you liked or what I could do better, appreciate that more!) Happy reading, please ignore all my lame music puns! 😂😈

Music filters through the doors as she watches on her heart thumping erratically, a metronome expelling the staccatos of her fear. The gaggle of female students outside the door white noise in the background, their coos and awes stabbing her paper thin heart that is wavering in her chest.

They sound so good together!

Omg, don't they look perfect?

I think they would be a much better couple!

Taking a step back her violin bangs into the wall suddenly alerting them to her presence, her eyes dart wildly like a cornered animal as they look at her with pity and sneering apologetic eyes as if saying: you brought this on yourself, how could you ever think you could have him?

With a wet gasp, she scurries off avoiding their looks clutching her hands tightly as she bursts through the doors. The cool Spring air whips her hair around her face temporarily blocking her face from onlookers, the moisture on her cheeks causes strands to stick before she pushes them back.

Seeing them play in such perfect harmony has only cemented the doubts that already fill her mind, how can see ever measure how to Jung-kyung? A woman that he has not only loved for years but who also plays her instrument far better than she ever will? If she is meant to be a replacement, she stands no chance; they are worlds apart maybe it's time she accepted that.

I'll cherish our moments today, it was an honor.

She knows what she has to do, her heart whines but she blinks away her tears. He deserves better.

His missed calls and messages taunt her as she peers down despondently at her phone, she hasn't been able to bring herself to sever their bond. Every time she starts to type out a message to set him free, his smile flashes in her mind and she's rendered comatose. Instead flinging the cursed object far away and punishing her fingers as shrill notes screech from her violin.

Avoiding him isn't as simple as she'd hoped with everyone knowing about their ill-fated relationship and constantly inquiring about his whereabouts, it becomes sickening obvious that most "friends" who approach her with their shrieking calls of "unnie" could care less about her and are instead hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

As soon as they realized he was absent and had no plans of suddenly materializing, they bombarded her with excuses of why they needed to take their leave, immediately. She vaguely wondered if they cared at all about how little they made her feel, their treatment further emphasizing how insignificant others viewed her.

She was always disposable to others. She didn't even have a best friend to turn to for advice, someone else who has decided that she simply wasn't worth the trouble of staying and fighting.

Nobody had ever deigned her worthy of fighting for.

With a forlorn sigh, she grips her purse tighter better climbing the stairs to the school entrance. She only has one class to get through today, before she could escape to her room and ruminate on how to inform Joon-young that she couldn't do this anymore.

Arriving a few minutes early to class, she takes her seat closer to her front away from the gossiping girls who had been waving her over. She had no desire to listen to their backhanded comments on her lack of talent or unbelievable relationship, their words only added fuel to the vicious thoughts already cycling in her brain.

Pretending not to hear them beckoning her over, she looks at the professor with more focus than she's currently capable of, turning a blind eye to her surroundings.

Time crawls by like molasses poured from a jar, before the professor dismisses the class causing students to bolt from their seats, she being one of the first. He typically waits for her after this class and she has very little time to flee without him catching her, ignoring the calls of her name once more she takes her leave, violin thumping a dull pain on her back.

Cracking the door open she peeks outside, a sliver of her head breaching the opening, a sigh of relief falling from her lips when she meets a vacant spot. Stepping out further she glances around, but he is nowhere to be seen, the hallways empty besides students trekking to their next classes.

Her chest aches traitorously but she internally berates herself, this is good I don't want to see him, her heart ripples at the lie, refusing to engage in this façade that she's forcing. Clutching at her chest she takes one trembling step, then another before finding her resolve and racing to the door.

So close, almost there, come on.

Hand reaching for the handle, she twists it pushing it open seconds away from freedom.

"Song-ah!" Her skin prickles from his deep baritone, his tone wrapping her in a honeyed cocoon. She hesitates, fingers twitching on the cold smooth metal.

"Song-ah, wait!" The desperation in his voice halts her escape, unable to abandon him when his voice reveals so much about how he's feeling. She loathes the mere concept of being someone who hurts him.

Reinforcing her now wavering resolve she slowly spins around, their eyes meeting in a clash, his own shining brightly as he peers into her soul. Her breath hitches as she watches him step closer to her, suddenly there isn't enough oxygen in the room, her lungs wheeze at the atmospheric change.

His beautiful hands gradually elevate, millimeters from her skin, as he begs for permission with his smoldering dark eyes.

She almost accepts defeat, before Jung-kyung's smug sour face flashes in her mind. Dousing her with icy cold realization, they just aren't meant to be.

She draws away from his searching fingers, stepping just out of his reach.

Hurt blazes across his handsome face, hardening in his eyes.

"Why have you been ignoring my calls and messages?"

He goes straight for the jugular, not pussyfooting around the elephant in the room.

"I've been busy practicing." She responds weakly, recoiling under his hard glint.

He steps forward once more, instinctively she retreats, the demure mouse to his assertive cat.

He sighs, stepping back his shoulder sagging in disappointment.

"What's wrong? Why won't you even let me come close to you? Why are you ignoring me?"

This is the moment, the one she's been yearning and waiting for, the perfect opportunity to put this sham to an end. Her mouth opens and closes as she pushes herself to be courageous for once, do the right thing and put both of them out of their misery.

You look better with her. I don't deserve you. I'm not good enough. Not strong enough. Leave. Leave me.

Please.

But, she can't. Can't get her mouth to say any of those truths. Fear and heartbreak render her immobile and cowardice takes center stage instead, ready for its solo.

"I...I...." He looks at her with warm eyes, pleading with her to finish her sentence, hope settled in the lines of his skin.

"I have to go."

"Song-ah!"

Her breath doesn't return until she's shaking on her seat at the bus stop. He hadn't chased her. Maybe he had just learned that she wasn't worthy the trouble.

Her days lapse by as she moves through life resembling a zombie, obsessively looking at her phone only to feel her heart fracture each time no notifications await her hungry eyes.

She goes to class as normal, no longer having to avoid her classmates as they have moved on to something more entertaining than her relationship. Their piteous looks make her skin crawl, her fight with Joon-young the talk of the town. Now they can freely gossip about her and how they knew it would never last, the pure glee on their faces is grotesque.

She sees him in passing in the hallway but he keeps his distance, never maintaining eye contact for too long. She's getting exactly what she wanted. Yet she feels sick to her stomach, her skin clammy and cool.

The irony isn't lost on her, how appropriate that this would be the one thing she's able to do successfully. Ruin her own life and sabotage her own happiness.

There are nights when her control falters and she stares at the illuminated screen of her phone, writing a message only to erase it with a sigh before crashing into her mattress. Her limps are heavy and uncoordinated as she flails upon the surface.

"Why does this have to be so hard?" Her question goes unanswered in the stillness of the night, as she ultimately falls into a fitful slumber.

Finally pulling herself together after days of quiet anguish, she goes back to her mission to find an accompanist.

She closes her phone as she says her final good byes to the team leader, thanking her for allowing her to use the rehearsal room in the Kyungoo building.

The winds blows the wispy ends of her skirt, dragging the material across the smooth skin of her knee. Subconsciously she tugs at the material, its a bit shorter than her usual ensemble she'd ordered it online not expecting it to hit inches above her knee. It seemed longer in the photos.

A voice shouting her name drags her from her self-conscious inklings, as she spins around to see her potential accompanist.

A welcoming smile tugs her lips up, dimples sinking into her skin with familiarity.

Raising her hand in a small wave, bowing while calling out, "Hello! Nice to meet you, I'm Chae Song-ah, chae not choi, like the vegetable." Explaining before the inevitable questioning and confusion can sour their interaction with awkwardness.

The sheepish grin informs her that she did the right thing, a hand is extended into her space and she grasps it in her own.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Park Min-jae." His warm smiles immediately puts her at ease. Together they enter the building amicable conversation flowing easily.

Hours pass as the music ricochets around the room, her bow light in her hands as she drags it across the strings, flabbergasted as harmonious sounds permeate the air. His fingers move in a flurry across black and white keys, shoulders bouncing in rhythmically as the song nears it end. Their last notes swirling around each other in a perfect crescendo.

"Wow, that was fun! You did great!" He breaks the silence, and his words leave her breathless.

She's been prepared for insults and sharpened words, his praise disorient her.

His wide grin leaves little room for argument so she merely nods, not quite believing him.

He starts to gather his belongings before turning to her, "I have to head out but I mean it, I think we sounded pretty good together. What do you think? Was I good enough for you?"

His innocent question plummets her into a sea of memories, his face at the forefront of her thoughts.

Shaking herself free she quietly replies, "Yes, it was good. You were good."

He lifts an eyebrow but says nothing else at her words.

"Okay, I'm free this weekend. Give me a call if you want to practice some more."

She nods finally collecting her own belongings, then turning off the lights and exiting the room.

The air is charged as the walk side by side and it's doesn't make sense until she turns the corner. Park Min-jae's excited voice never falters as she stands still, eyes locked on the new arrival.

Joon-young stands before her, eyes scouring her face before darting to the unknown man standing beside her. She watches his Adam's apple bob distractedly, as his eyes darken minutely.

"And I think we should..." Park Min-jae's voice peters off as he notices her unmoving figure before noticing that there is someone new.

All three of them stand there wordlessly before park Min-jae cracks the uncomfortable silence.

"Hi, I'm Park Min-jae. A friend of Song-ah, nice to meet you." The and you are? lingers in the air.

Her brain stutters at the possibilities and she rushes to provide an answer.

"Oh! This is Joon-young, he's just a fri-"

"Her boyfriend." He extends a hand but his eyes never leave her face, she feels as if she's being challenged and she doesn't know how to respond.

"Nice to meet you! I didn't know you had a boyfriend, you should have let me know before flashing those pretty dimples at me." Park Min-jae's teasing smile unsettles her causing her to shift under his gaze, unbeknownst to her Joon-young's grip tightens ever so slightly in their handshake.

Suddenly her potential accompanist winces and jumps, apologetic look on his face before he retracts his hand to put them up in acquiesce.

"Sorry."

Joon-young looks at him, the seconds dragging before he nods looking away from again. Eyes for her only.

"Um..so I'll talk to you later? It was nice to meet you." Park Min-jae bows once more, glancing between them both before shaking his head and all but running away.

She feels pinned under his look and rubs her own arm simply to have something else to focus on. Feigning distraction, she looks at the ground; heart clattering frantically at his sudden appearance.

Mumbling under her breathe she finally speaks, "What are you doing here?"

She's completely unprepared for his hands to slide into hers with ease, her fingers curling around his before her brain can register what is occurring.

"Come with me." The please is unsaid but loud as a high C and she nods, helplessly following his lead as he drags her back into the rehearsal room.

The click of the door closing is harsh in the quiet of the room, as he stops in the center of the room. Large hand still wrapped around her own, his warmth drift into her brittle bones.

"Who was that?"

Glancing up at him from under dark lashes she swallows, "Park Min-jae, a pianist. I wanted to see if we could play together. My teacher recommended him."

Humming in response he stares her dead in her eyes, it takes every fiber of her being to maintain the contact.

"Why were you going to tell him I was just a friend?"

Sputtering, she chokes on nothing pulling her hand away to cover her mouth as small coughs escape.

Concern flashes on his face before it's driven away with anger.

She quivers under his hard stare, "I thought....I didn't know...we haven't spoken in days."

Pressing forward he invades her space, jaw tight.

"Do you think it's that easy?"

Mouth falling open in a perfect o, she looks at him in confusion. Lost at his meaning and wondering what is going through his mind, it's difficult to read his body language.

"What?"

"Do you think our relationship is that... trivial? Do you think a few days without conversing is all it takes to end it?"

Anger and hurt color the words as they fall from his lips and land like daggers in her stomach.

But he's not finished, not by a long shot.

"You can't just push me away and replace me with someone else!"

His cry echoes around the room and she stands in shock, contemplating picking her jaw up off the ground. When he says nothing more, simply pushes out harsh breaths and squeezes his fists by his side she finds her voice.

"What are you talking about? I'm not doing...that."

"Then what are you doing? You don't answer my calls or call me for days and now you're here with someone else, who flirts with you right in my face." She collapses guiltily. "How can you not have time for me? I'm your boyfriend, why can't you make space for me?"

Is there any room for me?

Like a wave, all her emotions and pain and insecurities and fears come surging out, his question the blow that broke the dam.

"You're the one who has no space for me. I saw you two that day, you looked like you fit. Two musical prodigies, it made sense. More sense than you and I. I can't do it, I can't pretend that I don't see everyone looking at us. Nobody understands why you'd want me. You should be with someone like her, she's from a good family and she plays the violin better than I'll ever--"

His hands latch onto her shaking shoulders, pushing her backwards until her violin collides with a click into the piano.

She whimpers as he gazes down at her, frustration streaming off him in waves.

"You don't understand how I could want you? I'll explain it, in detail. Listen closely because I don’t want to ever need to this again"

She gulps.

He swaggers closer, arms reaching over her shoulders to rest on the smooth surface of the piano. Brushing against her shoulder before gently gripping the straps of her violin, he removes them before placing the instrument carefully on the ground. Taking the weight from her shoulders.

His warm breath caresses her skin before he cups her face, hands tender on her hot cheeks. Air catches in her throat as she shyly looks up at him.

Almost instantly he smiles in return, dimples greeting her as his smile warms her to her core.

"I like how you make me smile, whenever I see you my heart feels at ease and I feel like everything will be okay. I like how you smile at me, you look prettiest when smiling at me."

Her cheeks flush from his compliments and she turns away embarrassed only to feel his sure fingers on the point of her chin, dragging her back into the penetrating line of his eyes; refusing to let her push him away again.

"I like how hard you work to be better, I like how you never stoop to others level you're kind to everyone despite how they treat you. I like your dimples, I always want to touch then. I like how you listen to me and want to hear about my life. I like that you don't treat me like I'm breakable and you tell me when you don't like something."

Then the air crackles as his hands smooth down her skin before settling on her neck, tugging her closer, she reaches out to grab his waist for balance.

"I like kissing you, I like how your lips feel on mine. I like how you open up for me. I like the little sounds you make."

Like a manifestation, a small shocked gasps tumbles from her lips and his eyes meander down to look at them in response. His own cheeks are scorching, red and flushed too but he doesn't seem like he has any intentions of stopping. Fearlessly pushing past his comfort zones.

Pulling her against his body now, his fingers twisted in the dark material of his button down shirt, he gazes at her adoration pouring from his eyes.

"I like you Song-ah. I like you so much. I don't want anyone else, there's space for you. In my heart there's so much space just for you."

He brushes her hair out of her face, his face open and vulnerable.

"Do you want it?"

Do you want me?

She looks at him as he awaits her answer and wonders what she ever did to deserve this? It seems too good to be true, she has never won anything in her life coming in last at everything that has counted. So how can this be true, how can she possibly deserve something has precious and valuable as his heart?

Smiling in defeat she nods at him, "I want you."

His joy is contagious as he grabs her, strong arms wrapping her in a warm embrace. She returns the hug, face smashed into the soft cotton of his shirt.

Slowly they draw away from each other, smiles not fading and then she catches his incessant gaze on her lips.

"Can I?"

Blushing she bites her lip nervously, tingling under his close appraisal. At the merest nod of her head he's on her, his lips crashing into her own as his hands tighten on their new location on her hips.

Tilting onto the tips of her toes she presses back, moaning as his tongue teases the seams of her closed mouth, her arms reaching up to wrap around his neck.

His taste explodes on her buds as his slick muscle swipes around her moist cavern, he delicately sucks on her tongue enticing her to join him in his explorations. She trips as she attempts to press even closer to him, breaking their deep embrace.

Embarrassed at her lack of grace and coordination she opens her mouth, apology on the tip of her tongue. Before his next move steals her breath.

Easy as pie, he grips tightens on her waist as he hoists her up until she's sitting on the edge of the grand piano.

Her blush is now painful as it rages on her exhausted cheeks.

He smiles at her, disarming her before he steps forward her new position bringing their lips in perfect proximity.

"You looks pretty when you blush too." He teases and she slaps his chest in reprimand but he catches the appendages, trapping them between their body as he descends on her mouth again.

Kisses deeper and slower this time, largo as their tongues roll and plunder. His hands stroke her hair, his fingers traipsing across the soft skin of neck. He suddenly grabs her hips dragging her across the smooth surface until their groins collide and she gasps loudly at the hardness that jabs into her.

They both bolt back, frenzied eyes meeting as they take in this moment.

She's never gone this far before, never even kissed anyone. He is the owner of so many of her first, it's terrifying.

Looking down she sees his straining erection, a long line tenting the satin smoothness of his dress paints. Blushing she forces her eyes from the tempting sight, to look at his face. Momentarily frozen under his look, first time seeing them set ablaze with desire. All for her.

"Are you okay?" His voice rumbles making her skin pebble with anticipation.

Is she okay? She can't quite answer such a big question, her head spinning from everything that has happened. She feels like her skin is going to burst apart and he's the only thing keeping her together, both her destruction and her resurrection.

Wrapping her legs around his waist she boldly yanks him back into her orbit, kissing the question off his mouth. He stills for a moment before responding, devouring her mouth as she opens up for him, slick noises loud to her ears.

Her lips are raw and tender as they kiss making up for all their time apart, then she feels her world tilting as he presses her back onto the piano, lips still swallowing her own until her back meets the cool material and their lips disengage.

He looks at her, her body spread across the instrument like an offering. She feels naked under his gaze.

Then his eyes shift to her skirt, high on her thigh from her sprawled position and she starts to sit up but he's faster to react, catching the edge of her skirt and fingering the material that trails across her thigh.

After thick moments of silence, he gazes up at her slowly drawing her skirt up her thighs, the cool air rushes across her hot skin and she gasps and squirms under his steady hands.

He stops at her movement glancing at her, she bites her lip, opening her legs ever so slightly and that's all the answer that he needs. Tugging the material slowly, slowly, adagio up her skin pushing it over her hips and his groan causes wetness to pool between her legs, she looks away in shame.

He fingers at her stark white panties, she jumps at his first touch on the skin above her undergarment. Peering down to watch his eyes locked on her in awe, his long fingers running across her skin before he stops to tug at the cute little bow on the top of her underwear.

Eyes never leaving hers, he drags the thin material down pausing to give her a chance to stop him, one word from her and this will all come to an end she has no doubts.

Tacet.

He pulls the material down, down before dragging it off her feet and folding it neatly in a square before placing it on a chair to the side.

"Beautiful."

His eyes are smoldering on her skin as she eagerly awaiting his next move, equal parts excitement and anxiety.

Clutching her eyes shut she grips futilely for purchase, before he knocks the breath from her lungs with his first slow drag on her opening, his tongue swiping through the moisture dripping from her. A gasp is punched from her chest, as he licks at her again, deeper the second time almost slurping at her and she cries out from the foreign sensation, pleasure ravaging her body.

"Ah! Joon-young ah!"

He surges at her cry and subsequent proclamation of his name, nimble fingers soon joining his tongue and pushing knuckle deep into her wet bud playing her as expertly as his beloved piano, her whines and whimpers serving as music to his ears.

Using two fingers he pries her lips open, exposing her further to his hungry eyes and mouth. His tongue stiffen into a point he jabs into her drenched hole, collecting her sweet nectar as he swipes across her walls.

She pants loudly, grabbing his hair in warning as she feels a ball tightening in the pits of her stomach, another first as he thrusts into her over and over, her skin puckering up in anticipation.

"Please, I, I...."

As her body nears its crescendo, release blinding her as pleasure flashes blinding white, suddenly he pulls away, she whines from the emptiness crying out for him.

When she opens her eyes in a weak glare, she finds him bent over the piano his bangs sweaty as they stick to his forehead. Gathering herself she sits up, eyes widening in surprise and arousal when she sees his erection jutting from his own fly and his fist wrapped around the rigid ruddy flesh.

He'd been touching himself while tasting her. That had been enough to hurl him dangerously close to the edge. Something like pride bubbles in her chest.

Clamoring off the piano, her heels clicks when she lands on the floor and that catches his attention.

He looks up at her with dazed eyes, looking younger with his bangs skewed and messy, his lips shiny with her condensation.

Taking the lead she grasps his hands tugging him until he snaps out of his stupor, within two steps they reach the piano bench and he looks at it and then her, puzzled before she gently presses his shoulders and seats him on the bench.

It's his turn to gasp as she climbs into his lap, her face scarlet red as his erection brushes against her sacred flower.

"Are you sure?" He asks, using every last bit of control to keep his hips still even as his body aches to plunge into her wet hole, mere inches away the heat wafting off all too tempting.

"Yes." She watches as he grips himself by the base, rubbing the head through her juices and her head falls back from the sensation and then his tip is at her entrance and she holds her breath.

He reaches up to hold her face, forcing her to meet his eye, "Breathe." He commands and as she inhales he slides into her, breaching her tight opening with one long smooth thrust upwards.

Her arms tighten around the wide stretch of his shoulders as gravity drags her further down his impressive length, pain and pleasure warring for dominance.

"Just a minute." She pleads and instantly he stops, rubbing soothing circles on her back as she loosens around him. When she can breathe again, she lifts herself up before sliding back down pleasure knocking pain back on its ass.

Immediately she needs more, lifting up again before slamming down onto his hard cock, wet sounds echoing off the walls and at first he is motionless, simply letting himself be used by her. But then he grips her tight cheeks, using them as leverage as he plants his feet and viciously pistons into her, her shriek deafening in this room made for acoustics.

They crash into each other, as they chase their release, his fingers easily unbuttoning her shirt and pushing it off her skin before catching her pebbled nipples through the thin lace of her bra. Her soft breasts jiggle as she bounces in his lap, his hard length driving into her, over and over and over.

At a particularly brutal thrust of his hips, she loses her precarious balance and falls back, instantly he grips her waist slowing her descent and lessening the blow, her back crashes into the piano keys and jarring dissonance filling the air.

They both glance at each other before smiling, recalling their last mishap with the piano after their first kiss.

Her sprawled position on the piano opens her wider and without pause he thrusts up into her again, tugging her back to meet his movement.

Light flashes behind her eyelids as he fucks into her, the piano crying out underneath their onslaught. She's too close to care and his frenzied thrusts make it clear he's not far behind.

He pries her eyes open once more, before kissing her. The gentle press of his lips in complete opposition to the hard hits of his hips.

"Please, come." He whispers, begging her and simultaneously informing her of his plans.

She feels every molecule in her body burst apart as she vibrates on the piano, walls tightening around his length as he struggles to thrust through the vicelike grip she has on him before a hot stream fills her up, sticky and leaking, and he melts under her his head falling onto her belly.

It feels..... weird. Not nearly as sexy as it's depicted in videos. But a piece of her is giddy to be so full of him, her blush permanently stained on her cheek at this point.

Gently he drags himself out of her, she shudders as she feels his release leaking out without him there to keep it in. When she glances down pearly white substance is smeared across the keys of the piano.

She immediately feels filthy, complete disbelief at what exactly they'd done and where they'd done it. She covers her face in shame.

Something brushes against her sensitive skin and her eyes pop openly only to shriek as she watches in horror as Joon-young, cleans up the mess between her legs and the piano keys with a handkerchief.

Her handkerchief to be exact.

Grinning bashfully at her he shrugs, shoulders now light as his hair flops on his face.

"I'll wash it later."

Too embarrassed to answer she merely stands up, small smile tugging at her lips as she picks up her neatly folder panty before stepping back into it.

"Do you see now?" Do you see how much I want you? How much space there is, just for you?"

She's fighting losing battle. The irony isn't lost on her, the one time she loses it's the best thing that's ever happened to her.

In the hallway Jung-kyung pounds her fist into the wall, arriving minutes ago to practice with Joon-young for her recital only to hear the loud crashes of a piano keys. She'd been worried about him, was he angry because she was late? Missing her terribly?

She'd rushed to open the door only to stop frozen as she heard moans following the clash of the piano, soft feminine moans followed by a voice she knew all too well. Jealous and rage consumed her at the thought of that...nobody touching her Joon-young.

Taking as deep breath she turns around walking away, she will not give up on him but staying right now is impossible she can't bear the thought of seeing him glowing from being with someone else. This was probably how he felt watching her all these years.

She will be patient and wait for him.

They are destined and his time with Song-ah is fleeting, she knows he wants her. There isn't space for anyone else.

#do you like brahms?#do you like smut #lee young joon #chae song ah #joon young x song ah #piano smut #smut in c major #sourface is delusional #lucky handkerchiefs #cheesy music analogies and terms #I have no regrets

66 notes · View notes

futurewriter2000 · 5 years

Text

Like Every Tenth Girl

A/N: Yeah...you should never tell me to decide my own ending...

REQUEST:Hey, I just sent in a request but my wifi went off so I'm not sure if you got it so I guess I'll just send it again.. I would like to request a cedric diggory imagine! Where he and the reader is close friends, but what he doesn't know is that she's in love with him. She tells one of her friends about it, one who also happens to be Cedric best friend. And he can't help but to tell Cedric about it. You can decide hoe cedric reacts and what he does with this information. You decide how it ends :)

Lurking from the desk in the far back east corner was what your eyes did best. To see those wonderful eyes, like the heaven reflected in them and it felt like your whole body was nothing but craving for his. All there ever was between you and the boy in front was a one-sided platonic love. You knew it, you felt it and that was why you were so afraid of acting on it.

“Miss (Y/l/n)!” the professor appearead out of nowhere. She was standing in front of you, the tip of her wand on your empty piece of parchment and her stern look on her face.

You looked up, innocently and embarrassed. “Yes, Professor.” you spoke as confidently as you could. It wasn’t one of your best tries but at least there was a try.

“Might tell what is more important going through your head than the five most efficiant transfiguration spells that could save your life in the time of need?” she continued to glare with her blazing light eyes.

“Nothing, Professor.” you mumbled and shook your head away from her eyes.

“Than why is your parchment empty?” she asked and you couldn’t come up with an excuse. So you stayed quiet and looking up at her eyes.

All you could think was that your mind was clouded with him but you couldn’t say that now, could you?

“I see then.” she removed her wand from your desk and started backing away. “Detention it is.” she said and you felt like groaning from the disappointment in yourself.

You were so furious at her, so angry, so irritated to look at this woman ever again. How could she have embarrassed you in front of the whole class. She might as well took 100 of house points from Hufflepuffs.

Your eyes reached his grey ones. He was more snickering then smiling. His eyes were directed to you, a smirk in the corner of his mouth and that caused about thousands and millions of quiestions in your head.

---

“I am just so furious at her!” you continued to shout at both of them. “She gave me detention for every day of the week for what?! Not writing notes on the stupid piece of parchment!!” you fumed while the boys beside you laughed.

“It’s just one week, darls.” his arm wrapped around you and usually you didn’t mind it. It sent feelings down your body like a shiver when the wind blew cold against your exposed neck. But now, knowing you were thinking about him, about this boy beside you with that tremendously heaven smile and body of a greek god, smell of lovely strawberry tea sent not only the shiver of emotions but caused a stronger pressure in your vains, adrenalin in your heart and a red stain on your cheeks.

“One week means five days. Five days for three hours is 15 hours. Do you know what I could do in those five hours?”

“Sleep.” he answered, the other, Jason, laughed.

“Eat.” the other added.

“Stare at the ceiling.”

“Waste your time on perfectly nothing.” Jason continued meanwhile Cedric stepped in front and put his hands on your shoulders. And that is who Cedric made you. A pathetic fool in love, who would follow him like a sheep if he only said the words. When he put his strong hands on your shoulders, fingers gently caressing them.

“Whatever that was so importnat for you to get lost in during Transfirugration class has nothing to do with McGonagall. She ought to do what she thinks it’s right when students don’t do as she says. You know McGonagall. She’s like a stick up your ass but she only wants what’s good for us. Everybody knows she loves Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs and for that you can give her credit because she didn’t take any points.”

And everything you could have heard from his mouth was ‘ Blah blah blah blah Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs...’ and Cedric didn’t know what you heard or how you heard it, if you even did but the boy beside the two of you was an observing mouse and he could read people with a snap of his fingers.

“I need to run.” Cedric flicked his wrist to check the watch. “I have practice in ten and you better not be so uptight about McGonagall.” he pointed his perfect finger at you before he ran off.

It took you a while to shake the dreamily feeling off but even if you did shake it off, there was still a smile breaking from its hiding place. You walked along Jason, both intending to go back to the Common Room. He was clicking his tongue for a while which made you suspicious but the only person who truly was suspicious was him.

“So what did you think about in class?” he started raising and lowering his voice as if he was about to tease you, which he intended to do sooner than later. “Or rather who?” he quirked an eyebrow.

“What are you getting at, Jason?” you turned to him, still hiding your smile.

“You and Cedric.”

“What about me and Cedric?”

“You know exactly what.” he stopped and so did you.

You could have sworn that you were about to tell him off for what he was saying but somehow that smile- that hidden little smile turned into a such a broad grin that you knew it was too late to change his mind. “Fine. So I fancy Cedric. Is that such a big deal?”

“I bloody knew it!” he started laughing. “I wasn’t sure at first but you were looking at him with such puppy eyes, I could have sworn I thought you were going to fall on your knees for him.”

“Shut up!” you shoved him. “I wasn’t looking at him with puppy eyes.”

“Yes, you were! And he ought to know how you feel.-”

“Stop right there!” you put your hand on his chest. “You are not going to say a word. You are not going to breathe if you try even hinting to him that I fancy that boy-”

“Alright. Alright.” he raised his hands obe his shoulder, showing you his defeat. “For all I know, I won’t even speka when he’s around me.”

“Good.”

And for a moment, you thought you could believe him- to trust him enough to keep his word. but Jason was Cedric’s best friend long before you came into the picture and yes, you were close to them but no, you weren’t close enough to know just how much they share and care about one another.

So, when the next day came, Cedric couldn’t look at you. He did but for a small second before turning his eyes on the full plate and trying to avoid you. He avoided you everywhere and you tried to think of a way to be on “normal” terms with him, trying to brush off your feelings and making everything as it used to be but as much as you triedto fake it, he couldn’t.

Until you had enough.

You were standing in front of him. He was tall but that didn’t stop you from glaring at those heavenly pair of eyes.

“I really need to go- the practice- Quidditch and all, you know?” he tried to avoid you but no use. You just came from a three hour detention of crubbing couldrons. Your back was throbing, your neck completely cramped, you shoulders aching and your feet about to blow up. You were furious.

“I like you, okay Cedric!” you started and he shut up, sighing and trying to speak. “I should have known that twat would tell you but you know what? I’m glad he did because now I know what kind of person you are! You’re the one who doesn’t even give a crap’s ass about how I feel and instead of just talking to me like a mature, soon-to-graduate guy, you decide to ignore me.”

“No!” he denied and clenched his jaw. “I didn’t decide to ignore you. I decided to ignore it and it wasn’t easy!”

“It wasn’t easy?!” you scoffed. “For you?! You walk by me like I’m a ghost. You act like you haven’t known me for the last three years!”

“I feel like I haven’t! How do I know you didn’t hang out with me just because you wanted to be with me like every tenth girl I meet!”

It hurt to hear him say this and as much as you didn’t want him to see, tears rolled down your cheeks. “I am not every tenth girl and you are not this perfect, good-looking, popular Hufflepuff who gets everything with a smile. You do have flaws, Cedric Diggory and as much as I hate to admit it right now, I have grown to love every and each one of them- even the most horrible ones!”

He was quiet for a while. His expression was softening and you could have heard the words before he even spoke them. “I can’t be what you want me to be. I don’t like you in the way you like me.” - that stung- “ And I’ can’t be around you, knowing how you feel because both you or me will feel uncomfortable.”

You held the big lump in your throat though there was no deny he wouldn’t notice it. “You’re selfish, Cedric and I’m stupid.” your voice shook like a broken violin. “Not because you don’t want to be with me- actually far from that but because when I met you... when I got to know you I thought I could have had a great friend who would stand by me through thick and thin. I cared for you too much even before all of these feelings appeared. I could have sworn that before all of that, I thought you would never let anything to ruin our friendship- even if it was my feelings and I felt like I genuenly have someone who cares for me.” you continued to stare with your eyes filled with unshed tears.

No. He wasn’t worthy of your tears anymore.

“Guess I was wrong. You never cared for me at all. Like you said...” you backed away with a forced smile on your lips. You shrugged and started distancing yourself away from him. “I’m just like the every tenth girl you meet.”

No tear. No last cry for the boy you’ve loved.

Sometimes it wasn’t meant to be but you got to move on and that was what you intended to do when you healed from the heart-break of the boy with heaven eyes.

#cedric diggory #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory imagine #golden trio era #golden trio imagines #golden trio #the golden trio #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine

365 notes · View notes

chisie12 · 5 years

Text

Friends and Butterflies, An After Ending - Part 3

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20490521/chapters/48755918 Uh, domestic bliss again? Cause the chapter i had for ‘language of flowers’ just got too long At least it’s day 4 now and it’s actually the right prompt time ovo;;

~~*~~*~~ Life… was truly, oddly fulfilling at the moment.

It was like their calm spring of Heavenly Waterfall rippled, the peace disturbed. The original habitants, the pair of red fox and white mink, sneaked out of the berry shrubs to bask under the sun, deftly ignoring the idiotic cat and dog fighting in the background as two smaller bunnies nervously hopped around them. A pair of butterfly koi, coloured yin and yang, dipped back into the water when the pair of cat and dog started hissing and yowling from the trees. What used to be a bubble with just the two of them, somehow overnight, the newlyweds became a family of four, even if their children weren’t theirs by blood, while being surrounded by… more relatives related by blood.

Life… was odd. Yeah.

And chaotic. ~~*~~*~~

Day 1: Becoming part of the Hua family

The next morning after their midnight adventure, Hua Cheng woke up to someone warm closely snuggled under his arm. He was comfortably curled and pressed against his body like a snug pet, as though Hua Cheng’s body and arm was his personal nest of a safe haven. His slender leg was wrapped around one of the demon’s own one, arms neatly tucked by his chest with fingers brushing close to his pink, parted lips.

There was something special about waking up next to someone you love. Something about sharing blankets and body heat, listening to the steady breathing of their slumber that’ll bring comfort to your mind just by simply being next to them, to bare your soul in the darkness and to submit yourself to vulnerability.

Hua Cheng stroked the soft chocolate coloured hair with a brush of his fingers, tracing the sides of his cheek as he stared at the thick long eyelashes, the smooth skin of his face… his lips…

Leaning down, he pressed a quick kiss onto his forehead and slipped out of the bed whilst being careful not to wake – he smiled at the thought– his husband, Xie Lian. With a soft groan, the man’s arm reached out and he quickly settled his pillow near his fingers, who immediately latched onto the cotton and snuggled against it. He watched the sleeping man breathe in his scent on the pillow before leaving the room with a loving smile.

And then he found his sons up bright and early a few short moments before sunrise.

“It’s quite early to be awake,” he commented when he saw them sitting by the front porch’s steps.

“Good morning,” the twins echoed.

“Where’s Crown Prince Xian Le?” Huang Qing later asked.

Hua Cheng smiled sheepishly. “That… he’s still in bed. He worked hard yesterday.”

Huang Qing rolled his eyes. “That little bit of work and he’s tired?”

Hua Cheng nodded his head wordlessly, thinking, ‘Yeah. He worked really hard in bed.’

Why wouldn’t he? They just got married and haven’t even had their honeymoon yet!

Huang Shao blinked, pouting at being lost. “Ba ba, I don’t understand. What work?”

His older brother turned towards him and patted his head comfortingly. “It’s alright. Just some adult stuff.”

Huang Shao huffed but left it be.

Hua Cheng watched the boys watch the sunrise, the wisps of orange brightening into a blazing yellow that shone on their faces. Both were really identical, except for the bloodless countenance that Huang Qing had in comparison to Huang Shao’s pink flush. After their small adventure last night, Hua Cheng had immediately helped Huang Qing attain a physical body upon their return (thus joining his husband in bed when it was very late!) and he could clearly see the contentment in those eyes, so contagious that he was bubbling over with pride and joy too.

“We’re usually awake quite early,” Huang Qing suddenly spoke up, his voice wistful and distant, gaze dropping from the sunrise and onto the elongating shadows. “By now, we would be cutting bamboo to bring back for… pa.” His voice grew soft, melancholic, and he felt a large hand rested on his head. He closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, feeling the slight relief the sensation brought, washing away the bitterness ever so slightly. It was the first time someone (he cared) could actually touch him ever since that day. “Pa always had us go before sunrise, so we wouldn’t get burnt by the sun.”

Hua Cheng hummed in acknowledgement and they spent some moments in silence before he spoke up, “Let’s get you boys some breakfast.”

“Sweet potato porridge!” Huang Shao exclaimed right away when he jumped to his feet.

“You can’t always live off that,” Hua Cheng and Huang Qing lightly scolded. They each shared a glance and laughed.

“Why not? It is good for my tummy, keeps me full and gives me energy! It’s perfect!”

~~*~~*~~

Day 6: It’s not for you, San Lang.

Blood oozed out of his finger, a bead of red striking a beautiful contrast to the white cloth. With a sigh, Xie Lian hurriedly unwrapped the white strip of cloth around his finger and applied more medicine, his skin turning even yellower from the copious amount already added before wrapping it once more.

Picking up the threaded needle, he gingerly held the cut cotton cloth of a soft brown colour and poked the needle through.

He eventually managed to sew the two pieces together after a long while, fatigue already swelling in his bones. Hua Cheng stood by the door of the study. He saw the brown and white cotton fabric piled up on the table before his husband with the vials of medicine and cotton strips on the side table next to him.

“Ge ge,” he sang, catching the man’s attention, only to cause him to yelp as he pricked his finger again.

“What’s up, San Lang? Do you need me for something?” Xie Lian asked, looking at Hua Cheng while he applied the medicine yet again. With how skilful he was with a sword, one would think he would be able to avoid pricking and slicing his finger while sewing. No one probably got hurt as much as he did!

“Are you making something?”

“Yeah, it’s a surprise!”

“For me?” Hua Cheng teased.

But Xie Lian shook his head. “No, not for you.”

The demon pouted, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why not? I want something that ge ge made too.”

Xie Lian chuckled and turned back to the fabric. “Your best present is already having me as a husband. Now hurry and see if the boys are okay!”

With a tender smile on his face and a blissful gleam in his gaze, he silently and wordlessly turned around, leaving his husband to his surprise. Even if he couldn’t see it, he could easily tell that the man was furiously blushing, a delicious red of an apple avoiding to be devoured on the spot.

Well, he couldn’t deny. Being Xie Lian’s husband was the best present after all.

~~*~~*~~

Day 21: Do you (not) like Xie Lian?

“Qing-ge ah, do you not like Xie Lian ba ba?”

Huang Qing continued walking around the garden with his brother following behind. “Who said I didn’t?”

“But Qing-ge, you don’t talk to Xie Lian ba ba like Hua Cheng ba ba. You don’t call him ba, always Crown Prince Xian Le!” Huang Shao tightly gripped onto his brother’s hand as he leaped onto a garden rock half his height. “Xie Lian ba ba is very nice. He is always smiling and very kind. He always makes us lunch too!”

“That we can’t eat,” Huang Qing huffed with a roll of his eyes as he held his other arm up just in case his brother lost his footing.

“At least he tries!” Huang Shao pouted, carefully turning on the rock so he could face his brother, the hand still in his. “He’s not a good cook like Hua Cheng ba ba, but I can see that he really cares about us!”

“Mm,” Huang Qing neither denied nor agreed.

“Do you not like Xie Lian ba ba because of the prayer?” Tiptoeing on the rock, Huang Shao continued light-heartedly, “A-Shao heard about it. But I think he tried his best.” There was a short pause when he dropped back onto his heels, his voice equally falling. “A-Shao thinks that… even if Xie Lian ba ba helped us earlier, pa would still become a ghost.”

He hopped off the rock with a light huff, Huang Qing’s arms easily catching onto his brother to steady his footing. Compared to a little under a month ago, Huang Shao looked healthier and fuller, though he was still smaller than most kids his age.

“What do you mean?” Huang Qing asked.

“When Qing-ge… left, the old man and his son started beating us even more. Sometimes pa would be bleeding for days and A-Shao cannot move his arms.”

The sharp tug at his arm caused him to turn back, startled at the glowering expression Huang Qing had. “Did they break your arms, A-di?”

Huang Shao nodded naively, unperturbed at the sullen behaviour, “Yeah, they did. Why?”

A growl rumbled in his throat, anger rising to his head. Those evil, stupid, mean – !

“Qing-ge ah, don’t be angry. Did A-Shao make you angry? A-Shao didn’t mean to…”

Huang Qing forced to calm himself at hearing the pleading tone in his brother’s voice, his heart breaking a little. “No, no. I’m not angry at you, A-di. I’m just sad.”

Those words brightened up Huang Shao’s expression, relieved. “A-Shao is happy then. It’s already in the past. Isn’t it better now? We get good food to eat! A big garden to play in and our uncles are all so nice. So, please don’t be sad!”

“Mm, yeah,” Huang Qing said with a small smile as they walked around QianDeng Temple. As they neared the back-temple garden, they heard the rustling of dried leaves being swept, the curiosity rising. Slowing down, they peeked out from the corner and then blinked at the same time.

There he was, smiling under the shade with white sleeves rolled up and a rake in hand. Dried leaves were gradually swept into a growing pile by the side and when he was done, he bent down to clean Old Man Huang’s grave before setting a fresh plate of fruits down and then lighting the incense for him.

“You know… he does this every day,” came a voice behind them.

Startled, the twins spun around to see Hua Cheng standing there with hands clasped behind his back and smiling warmly at them.

They turned back to watching Xie Lian walk away with the rags and pail of water. That’s when they realised who the person that had been diligently cleaning and changing their father’s offerings every day was when they went to pay their respects.

~~*~~*~~

Day 30: Uncles! …? …Can I be jealous?

“Ba ba, can we get this?”

“A-Shao, that’s for a woman.”

“I’ll have to agree with Crown Prince Xian Le, A-di. Why do you want to get that?”

“Oh, oh! Qing-ge doesn’t know it yet! But, but, on Xie Lian ba ba’s and Hua Cheng ba ba’s wedding, there was this one Heavenly ge ge that could transform!” Huang Shao eagerly explained.

Xie Lian: ‘…we all kind of can though, son.’

“And at the dinner, I think he was arguing with another ge ge. He smelled like fish! And suddenly, that Heavenly ge ge transformed into a very pretty jie jie!!”

Xie Lian: ‘…why didn’t I know this happened during the banquet?’

“She had silver hair and it was bright and shimmering, like the gold foils ba ba got for us to play! And so tall! Then I asked the uncle next to me if I could switch places with him so I can sit next to her. He was a very kind uncle!”

Xie Lian while forcing to keep the smile on his face: ‘…Mu Qing, if you dared seduce my son…’

“Uncle? Did you call me?”

The family turned around towards the voice. Xie Lian was surprised to see them in Ghost City!

“Ba ba, Qing-ge! It’s the Heavenly ge ge and the kind uncle!” Huang Shao exclaimed, his face darting back and forth between the people and his family.

“Feng Xin? Mu Qing? Why are you here?” Xie Lian asked with a wry grin.

The pair of generals looked down at the two boys who each held Xie Lian’s hands, confusion painting their features. “When did you have children? Doesn’t it take around nine months before you pop one? But you have two?”

“What is he talking about?” Huang Qing pointedly asked a flustered Xie Lian who was spluttering at Feng Xin for the question.

“Nothing!” Xie Lian’s face turned a deeper shade as he answered his older son’s question before turning to his old bodyguard, “And they’re adopted! Twins!”

Huang Shao took this cue to step forward, one hand still in Xie Lian’s, and he smiled sweetly at Mu Qing as he waved with his free hand. “Heavenly ge ge! Hi! Do you remember A-Shao?”

Mu Qing glanced down onto the grinning boy. “Ah! The little boy from the banquet! How are you?” he asked as he crouched down, a smile stealing the spotlight on his lips.

The boy was overjoyed at being remembered by the general, buzzing around like an excited bunny that couldn’t run amok. “Heavenly ge ge! What’s your name? I’m A-Shao!”

A soft chuckle escaped. “A-Shao can call me Qing-ge if you like!”

“Eh?” Huang Shao tilted his head with a frown. “But that’s my ge ge’s name!”

Mu Qing turned towards the other boy “You’re also named ‘Qing’?”

Huang Qing nodded and replied tautly, “Surname Huang, Huang Qing. Nice to meet you.”

The man narrowed his eyes at the different treatment compared to his younger brother, but his attention was soon stolen again by a soft-spoken, shy voice.

“Can… I call you Qing-jie?”

Everything around him seemed to freeze, the bustling excitement around Ghost City and Feng Xin’s conversation with Xie Lian dimming in his ears. Qing…jie? His mind wanted to scream, to roll his eyes at such an idiotic, naïve yet adorable request because why would he want to be referred to as a female when he was a man!?

Yet, his heart already spoke before his mind could send its orders: “Sure. You may call me Qing-jie.”

He should have raged, at least get angry, but the merry cheer from the boy warmed his heart, his innocence contagious as he felt his lips curve higher. Turning towards the other boy, he offered the same and surprisingly, he agreed easily. Then he felt a small hand tug at his, catching his attention once more.

“Qing-jie! Do you like this?” Huang Shao asked, pointing towards the woman’s robe he saw before. Silk dyed a plain deep black, soft to the touch with a pleasant caress, trimmed in silver that shimmered identical to his own hair, Mu Qing felt his heartstrings tug at the old familiar feeling of warmth coursing through his veins; of when children he looked after before he ascended would try to present him things or cheer him up, make him laugh and smile without a care for his background or identity – that all they wanted was just a friend to play with.

With a low hum, Mu Qing found himself nodding. “Mm, I do. It’s very lovely. You have good tastes.”

Feng Xin and Xie Lian watched agape by the sides, contrasting thoughts flying over their head.

Feng Xin: ‘What the actual fuck? Is this still Mu Qing? Who the hell possessed this guy!? He was never gentle like this with me!’

Xie Lian: ‘…Mu Qing… stop… seducing… my son. Please.’

Xie Lian continued to lament at the ordeal, confused and torn at the turn of events. Should he be happy? Or should he be angry? Did Huang Shao truly understand what it means to like someone? Should he separate the two? But what if it wasn’t the type of love he was thinking about?

Ahhh, this was all too confusing for him!

He never even loved someone until Hua Cheng came into his life.

…Should he tell Hua Cheng?

“Ba ba, do you think you can buy for Qing-jie?”

Huang Shao’s question pulled him out of his thoughts. Xie Lian’s smile twitched. Did he hear right?

‘This ba ba of yours is poor, okay! Ba is the one with money!’ Xie Lian howled regrettably in his mind.

Catching his old employer’s expression, Mu Qing hurriedly added, “A-Shao ah, even though I think it’s nice, I have too many clothes. It will be a waste to buy for me. You should keep the money for yourself! Tell… your… ba ba to buy some new clothes for you!”

“Oh…” Huang Shao’s mouth fell open into an ‘O’ as he considered Mu Qing’s words. Looking at his brother, he asked, “Qing-ge, do you want any new clothes?”

Huang Qing shook his head. “I think we have enough.”

Turning back to Mu Qing, Huang Shao happily said, “It’s okay, Qing-jie! Qing-ge said we have enough clothes. So, A-Shao thinks it’s best to just save for the future!”

Ruffling the boy’s hair, Mu Qing praised him for being a good boy and stood up. When he looked back at Feng Xin, the smile disappeared without a trace and he rolled his eyes at the dumbstruck man. “What? What’s wrong with you?”

“The hell –”

“Don’t curse in front of the children!”

Feng Xin jumped at the four different voices booming in his ears. Xie Lian and Mu Qing he knew, but there were clearly two more than he didn’t recognise!

“Have you no shame!” One of the two voices reprimanded, swatting at his arm with a folded fan.

“Ah! It’s the man that smelled like fish!”

He Xuan and Shi Qing Xuan turned their attention towards the voice, the former pursing his lips into a straight line while the latter grinned and crouched down.

“Aiya! Such a cute boy! Do you remember who this ge ge is?”

Huang Shao blinked and nodded his head immediately. “Of course, I do. You sat next to Fish-ge!”

Shi Qing Xuan laughed heartily when he heard He Xuan’s nickname, the sound calming like a warm summer wave in the demon’s heart. “That’s right! My name is Shi Qing Xuan and Fish-ge is… you can still call him Fish-ge and call me Feng-ge if you’d like? It might be too confusing since we both have ‘Xuan’ in our names.”

Huang Shao blinked twice. “Why ‘Feng-ge’?”

Shi Qing Xuan winked and waved his fan open with a flick of his wrist, covering half his face behind the paper and mysteriously said, “Because I used to be the Wind God.”

With his hair combed and elegantly tied at the back, and his face flushed a healthy pink while wearing beautiful robes of a light blue colour, it was really as though the former Wind God had reappeared to grace them with his presence.

Huang Shao oh-ed at the thought, wholeheartedly believing the man. “Okay! I’ll call you Feng-ge then!” After that, he quickly turned back to his silent twin brother and introduced, “This is my brother, Qing-ge! Qing-ge, these are the ge ge and uncle I met during ba ba’s banquet!”

Huang Qing mirrored his action, warily watching the strangers that stood before him and his family. Subconsciously, he gripped Xie Lian’s tighter and scooted all that little bit closer to the man. He knew none of them and even if his brother was friendly with them, he was technically friendly to everyone!

Xie Lian kept his attention on Huang Shao, watching him interact freely with the three men and one demon. His youngest son was such a sweet talker, calling these men who were centuries older than him ‘brother’! (With the exception of Feng Xin, of course.)

However, his heart was internally sobbing at Huang Qing’s actions, whether it was from being relied upon or that it was his son being uncomfortable, he felt an unbearable ache beat.

“Why are all of you visiting Ghost City?” Xie Lian asked at last.

“We thought we should visit,” Feng Xin replied when Mu Qing scoffed and looked away. “See how your married life is.”

Seeing Mu Qing’s displeased expression, Feng Xin felt the cuss words dancing on the tip of his tongue, laughing at his discomfort and self-suppression. ‘I had to drag you here and you look like that! Ugh. You clearly enjoyed being with the kid!’

Shi Qing Xuan tapped his lips with his fan, an arm crossed over his chest as he held his other elbow. “Well, He-xiong got really hungry and I kind of ran out of food. So, we thought we could come here for some food?”

Xie Lian sighed. Seeing Huang Shao’s expectant and hopeful puppy dog eyes, he felt a certain bitterness churn deep in his stomach. Should he – could he – be jealous of these people stealing his son’s attention away!? It was supposed to be a family shopping trip!

Not a ‘treat-us-please’ trip or an ‘entertain-me’ trip!

Yet, when he refocused onto Huang Shao’s suddenly teary eyed, pouty expression, his defences immediately crumbled into dust.

He sighed.

“Then, I suppose we should all go have some dinner? I’ll call for San Lang to join us.”

~~*~~*~~

Day 43: To study or to train?

A resigned sigh echoed in the empty hall.

Another sigh echoed beside him.

“Bored?” Xie Lian asked, having walked into the main hall when he heard his sons sigh. He could understand them though. Other than the usual toys they were gifted by Hua Cheng and his uncles, the boys didn’t really have other children their age to play with.

And Xie Lian would bless to the Heavens when his boys didn’t go out to play with the ghosts. They wreaked havoc no matter where they went! Outside of Ghost City! Ever since the group of four entered his sons’ lives, he realised his life has been more chaotic than ever!

Overturned stalls, broken furniture, expert level hide and seek!

Of course, they’d behave when Hua Cheng was around. Little demons, just like their father.

(Adorable little demons though.)

“Yeah, we’re bored, Crown Prince Xian Le,” Huang Qing flatly said with his face cradled in his hands, his elbows resting on his knees as they sat on the steps near the black jade futon.

“Do you have any new toys for us to play with, ba ba?” Huang Shao asked with a pout.

“Did I hear toys?” Hua Cheng’s head peeked out from the doorway, grinning at his family.

“Do you have any, ba?” the twins perked up.

The hall experienced its third sigh when Xie Lian thought about his circumstances. He’d always hear them call Hua Cheng ‘ba’, yet only Huang Shao would call him ‘ba ba’ (the slight difference was what the boy decided on not long ago because ‘Xie Lian ba ba’ and ‘Hua Cheng ba ba’ was too much of a mouthful to say when they’re in the same room). Huang Qing… was still… cold. Nor even an ounce of warmth.

Sigh.

Hua Cheng waved for them to come over and Xie Lian watched then obediently listen. He heard faint murmurings, simply inaudible for him to make out the words and curiousity spiked. What could his husband give that was so secretive? He saw the bright smiles blooming on their youthful faces, excitement gleaming in their eyes.

And so, he walked over, proud yet curiously happy.

…

“San Lang!!”

All three of them jumped at the scream. They slowly looked at Xie Lian who was clutching at the doorframe, aghast and pale at the sight of gleaming silver in the light.

Huang Qing glared at his reaction, his hand tightening at the gift his father just gave. Was Xie Lian going to berate them and take their new toys away? They were awesome and practical! He loved it! “Crown Prince –”

“Does Xie Lian ba ba not like it?” Huang Shao’s face fell and quickly interjected.

Hua Cheng’s grin widened, “I think it’s a good gift!”

However, ignoring his sons, he turned a fierce expression onto Hua Cheng. “You can’t just give it to them like this! Teach them how to hold it properly!”

Both boys were stunned, blinking in confusion. Huh?

Seeing their expressions, Hua Cheng chuckled and patted them each on their heads, undisturbed by Xie Lian’s scolding. “Your ba ba is a martial god, remember? He specialises especially in swords. In fact, he loves swords.”

“Loves them more than ba?” Huang Shao tilted his head back to glance at his father.

“No,” Hua Cheng’s smile was pulled tight. “He better not.”

“Oh, shush.” Xie Lian stepped forward and took the scabbards from Hua Cheng. Knowing him, he must have simply told the children to pull out the swords and play with them. Seven-year-old boys! With real and sharp, polished swords! San Lang ah! Please be more careful!

Xie Lian carefully put the swords back into their respective scabbards. “Do you want to train on how to use a sword?”

There was eager excitement on their faces, even Huang Qing who normally scowled or flatly stared at him kept nodding his head.

“Or do you want to study and learn how to read?”

At that question, the boys’ expressions fell, dark and gloomy. “No, I want to train,” they flatly said simultaneously.

“San Lang ba ba would be teaching you how to read and write,” a grin jumped onto Xie Lian’s lips as Hua Cheng’s fell, “It’ll be good practice for all of you!”

“The best swordsman is a person who’s also refined in literature,” Xie Lian added when all three of them continued to gloomily look at him.

As though he was the most boring person in the world.

…

“Fine! Sword practice first then writing!”

Everyone cheered at the good news.

It was worth a shot. Sigh.

“San Lang, you’re practicing too.”

“But ge ge,” a seductive whisper suddenly breathed against his ear when the boys turned to run towards the garden, “As long as yours is beautiful, it doesn’t matter if mine is ugly.”

“Your sons might not feel the same,” he casually commented while removing the (although welcomed) hand on his ass. “We’ve got to train the –”

Lips dove down to devour his words and a tongue slid out to immediately assert its dominance. A moan quickly escaped his lips when an arm curled around his waist and pulled him in deeper, sending his mind into a lust-filled haze. Yet, before he could delve deeper into the warmth, it pulled away as quick as lightning.

“Nope, gotta wait for tonight, ge ge,” Hua Cheng chuckled and playfully ran towards the garden.

Xie Lian’s chest heaved up and down, his breathing ragged partly from shock and partly from the brief pleasure. Just what…? When his mind finally registered the situation, an embarrassed flush climbed onto his cheeks.

“San Lang!!”

~~*~~*~~

Day 50: You sure you didn’t take the pill?

It was only a week since the training began, but it was merely surprises after surprises.

Drenched in sweat, heavy pants, smooth skin turning callous bit by bit, but not once was there ever a complaint. The sun would blaze, burn as spring passed and summer came to life. Hot winds blew, but they carried on.

Each slash, each swing, each step forward and in retreat; repetitive, dull. But their movements were swift, filled with all the power their little bodies could muster even if all they held was a wooden sword.

“It’s definitely in the genes.”

With an eyebrow raised, Xie Lian glanced over to his husband who was leisurely biting into a plum and said questioningly, “But they’re… adopted?”

Hua Cheng watched the boys closely, taking another bite of his fruit and nonchalantly asked back, “Are you sure, ge ge? Did you secretly take a child-bearing pill? They have your eyes.”

Even if it was a joke, a casual remark made offhandedly, Xie Lian’s jaw dropped. His mind blanked at that moment, all praises for his sons dispersing like the hot summer winds, while dreadful panic was exploding at the accusation. Incoherent words spilled from his mouth, jumbling and tripping over themselves, but everything was a mess in him! Just how – just what – when – did he do something wrong!?

Hua Cheng stared at him in bafflement.

“What’s wrong?”

“San Lang! I didn’t! There’s no way! I wouldn’t – there’s only you! I just – I only… with you…”

Xie Lian’s voice eventually died in his throat, his head dropped low as he rubbed his arms for the slightest amount of comfort. He bit into his bottom lip, warmth pooling in his eyes. Was there a reason for Hua Cheng to say that? Did he not trust him? They were already married but, but… oh my God.

The thought itself sent a thousand blades to pierce his heart, a pain worse than watching Hua Cheng disappear while in his arms. The agony of realising, thinking that your love, despite surviving through hurdles and obstacles, didn’t trust you…

No, he didn’t want to think about it further.

“Ge ge, your highness,” Hua Cheng had called out softly when everything fell into a heavy silence, almost to the point of suffocation. Xie Lian didn’t respond.

Did he say something wrong? He gently tugged at Xie Lian’s arm but the man simply shook his head wordlessly. What did he say wrong?

“My love…” he called again, “My husband…”

“Hubby?” he finally tried.

Xie Lian instantly perked up at the term of endearment, worried and distraught, panic thinking to himself: ‘Hua Cheng never calls me that.’

Hua Cheng had felt relieved when Xie Lian responded, only for his expression to fall when he noticed the paling countenance of his husband. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you like that. I was only joking! Ge ge, slowly, breathe,” he could only say gently as a hand worriedly holds Xie Lian’s arm. “In… and out. Yes, that’s it. Slowly.”

Xie Lian’s chest heaved with Hua Cheng’s words, his gaze blank and mind filled with only the heavy pants of his breathing.

“Are you bullying him again, ba?” Huang Shao piped up when the twins noticed the abnormality, their training disrupted.

Huang Qing nodded his head in consensus, resting the tip of his practice sword in the grass, and added unhelpfully, “Must have been quite mean.” But he was frowning rather deeply, an inexplicable turmoil rolling in his gaze.

Hua Cheng’s expression fell further after hearing their words. He stayed quiet and continued to try calm his husband. Just what did he say to make him panic this bad?

However, a smaller figure had already walked up towards Xie Lian, one hand still gripping onto his practice sword and the other lifting to tug at the panic-stricken man. “Ma, can you teach me how to lunge properly? A-Qing thinks he’s still not doing it right.”

Xie Lian blinked, a new habit he picked from his sons. Ma? That was a new term he’s never been called before – wait. Ma?

His vision refocused, the blades of grass sharpening in his sight and feeling the warm, sticky humid air breathe at his face. There was a small, pale hand tugging onto his rolled-up sleeves. Wearing training robes equally plain and white like his, beautiful locks of hair sticking to his damp face (from such humid weather), there Huang Qing stood with a serious expression; As if he said nothing out of the ordinary, as if everything was perfectly normal.

“Did you hear what I said, ma?” Huang Qing rolled his eyes.

…he’s been hanging out with Mu Qing far too much.

Still, Xie Lian nodded his head and smiled so bright. Ma! ‘A-Qing called me ‘ma!’’ It was no longer that annoying title ‘Crown Prince Xian Le’! Who’d want his son to call him that anyway!

If ‘ma’ it is, then ‘ma’ it will be!!

“Which part do you think you’re weak at? Come and show ma.”

Hua Cheng remained frozen on the spot as his husband’s arm slipped out of his fingers, walking away without even a glance back. His hand felt colder than usual, his heart suddenly empty with a gaping hole. Small flowers seemed to bloom around the grinning Xie Lian while he worked on Huang Qing’s form, seeing what was actually weak and repeatedly demonstrated it for their oldest son.

Huang Shao tilted his head to the right and watched his stock-still father continue being a statue. Seeing the half eaten plum in Hua Cheng’s pale hand slipping, he quickly grabbed it with the swipe of his hand and bit down into the fruit.

“What did ba say to ma?” Huang Shao asked as he chewed onto the fruit, immediately adopting his brother’s way of referring to their always-smiling, affable father.

Hua Cheng was still shocked, his gaze dropping to look at his empty palm, the one that allowed Xie Lian to slip away. That… was the first time Xie Lian ever voluntarily left him in such a situation. “I… I… was just joking?”

Huang Shao remained quiet as he waited, the plum gradually being consumed the only sound in the silence.

“I was just joking that… ma must have given birth to you two,” Hua Cheng finally squeezed out, his eyes closing in pain as he clenched his palm, “Because A-Qing and A-Shao are quite skilled with a sword even though you’re only 7 years old, and the both of you have eyes the same as ma. S-So… I just…”

Even he was not expecting his bubbly son to frown at him, the plum now finished. “Wow, ba. That is quite mean…”

Even he thought so!? It was just a joke!

Seeing his father’s growing distress, pale face turning even paler, Huang Shao pouted and pointed out, “Ma only loves you. A-Shao and Qing-ge know he loves you very much, and ba and ma just got married. If he gave birth to us, it means that we must be his sons by blood, right?” His voice was lilt, jumping high at the last word as he played with the thoughts. “But that would mean ma loved someone else before you! But ma said she only ever loved one person!”

Hua Cheng was startled at the declaration, the fear and panic receding like the tide. When did they –?

“And it’s very mean too because what about my pa!” Huang Shao huffed, making a face at Hua Cheng of unhappy bared canines on a scrunched-up face before running back toward his brother and Xie Lian, who happily opened his arms and allowed him to dive into the embrace.

The demon remained standing by the tree, head lowered and arms limp, yet his muscles felt tense, like a wooden puppet that’s been left hanging without its puppeteer, unable to move and unable to act, with only the thoughts a violent whirl in his mind as his only companion. He tried to organise the chaos in his mind, to sort them out one by one, but the words continued to jumble and bite at each other.

His head throbbed in pain.

…

That night, Xie Lian reluctantly stepped into their room, the darkness consuming his figure whole. His heart jumped to his throat, suffocating and panicking when his fingers finally slid the door close. After the training, the twins had immediately brought him to their favourite stall in Ghost City, distracting him with the good mortal food and fighting to pay for his meal with the savings they’ve managed to save up.

All the while Hua Cheng silently followed behind like a shadow.

“Ge ge…?”

Xie Lian fought to calm his nerves at the slight startle that shocked his body. He slowly turned on his heel, his gaze moving from the shut door and towards the bed where a figure sat with his back slumped.

“G-Ge ge?” Hua Cheng called again, the fear creeping its way into his voice he tried to steady but a force was stuck in his throat, its weight heavy and burdensome. He wanted to move, to walk towards his husband but his feet didn’t listen, glued to the floor as though it was lead weighing thousands of kilograms.

“San Lang…” Xie Lian whispered, his voice a frightened whisper. Now that they were alone in the dark, the thoughts that had been repressed came gushing out like a tidal wave, engulfing his mind mercilessly. His feet quietly padded across the room, his throat bobbing as he gulped the lump hitched there.

Did Hua Cheng really not trust him subconsciously? Which was why he made that comment? That his husband felt a repressed fear with thinking he might have past histories with other men!?

Hua Cheng’s masculine scent wafted into his nose when his feet paused by the bedside, their knees a mere few inches away. The distance felt so close, yet so far to the married couple.

‘If only I just reached my hand out…’ they thought simultaneously, an ache in their hearts begging to be held, to feel the warmth of the other person’s love chasing the dark thoughts away.

But no one made a move.

Xie Lian stood there, unmoving with his head held low, his hair falling to curtain his unreadable expression.

Hua Cheng sat there, staring up at this husband with an anguish in his gaze, wishing, screaming, he could move.

Time congealed around them, the darkness suffocating and warping around their bodies when the candlelight flickered. They both hoped someone would make the first move, yet a restraining fear locked their limbs, their voices.

A wave of anguish rose within Xie Lian the longer he waited but his husband was like the corpse, equally still like the dead. The more one hoped, the bigger the disappointment, after all. The emotion rose, crawled up his heart and to his mind, washing everything with a feeling of heartache that pulsed dull and painful. Why wouldn’t he move? Did he really not trust me anymore? Please just say something… anything…

‘I don’t want this silence…’

His head lowered even more. A warm wetness assaulted his eyes, trapped behind the lids, his breathing becoming ragged, short and sharp.

‘Maybe I should say it first –’

A knock rapped against their door; the sound exceptionally loud in the silence. Both men jolted and turned towards it.

“Ma…? Are you awake?” Came a soft voice.

Xie Lian’s instincts went on overdrive when he heard the trembles. He quickly strode over while wiping the unshed tears away with his arms and opened the door. He dropped into a crouch, caressing both boys on their heads with a worry in his tone. “A-Qing? A-Shao? What’s wrong?”

“W-We…” Huang Qing started but soon fell silent, the words stuck. The both of them stood there, each holding each other’s hand while a plush bunny slumped over their free arm. The plush didn’t look particularly adorable, with mismatched ears and paws, and made of cloths cut from cotton in brown and white.

Xie Lian patiently waited, intently aware of Hua Cheng’s gaze on his back.

“We…” Huang Qing tried again but his body started to shake when sobs racked his body, his large round eyes filling with absent tears.

Xie Lian quickly drew him into his arms, noting that Huang Shao was fighting hard to hold his own tears back, the liquid dripping out of his nose as he tried to maintain a serious expression.

“N-Nightmare…” Huang Shao squeaked, the sound scaring even him. The tears spilled out of his eyes like the glass finally breaking and he sobbed and sobbed. “Qing-ge and A-Shao had a nightmare…! Uuu… ba and ma were f-fighting… a-and, and…”

Huang Qing clutched onto Xie Lian’s robes as he cried without tears, the pain unbearable and smothering him for the exact reason he couldn’t cry. Xie Lian’s heart broke, the cracks growing longer and deeper with each cry as he brought both of them into his arms.

But that’s when Huang Qing suddenly burst, “And then ba and ma said you didn’t want A-Qing and A-di anymore!”

Cold water splashed onto the men; Hua Cheng shot up to his feet, rushing over to his sons in a flash as Xie Lian tried to comfort them, patting their heads and whispering in soft, slow tones that they weren’t fighting, that they would never abandon A-Qing and A-Shao. When the boys noticed that Hua Cheng was crouched down next to them, he was attacked by faces full of tears and sobs, of sadness and heartbreak.

“Please don’t fight with ma anymore, ba?” the twins begged in unison as they crawled into his lap, gripping his robes as they cried in his arms. “Please, ba. Please… A-Qing/A-Shao don’t want you to fight with ma…”

“Shh… I won’t fight with ma anymore. I won’t. Everything is okay… We won’t abandon either of you…”

Children were a blessing, a gift from the Heavens, possessing a certain intuition that would turn mute over time as they grew up, an intuition that allowed them to feel and understand something, even if their parents said otherwise. They could tell if their parents are down, happy or in a fight, and those more outspoken would voice it out, yet there would be those that silently kept it bottled in for reasons only they would understand.

But good parents always wanted to protect their children’s innocence, to shelter and protect, to only let them know of the good and pray they grow up well. To be healthy and happy, to give them the very best.

Hua Cheng and Xie Lian could only be acquiescent to their requests, to wipe their tears away and warm them in their embrace, until their sobs died down and their cries reduced to tiny sniffles.

“Sleep with ma and pa tonight?” Xie Lian affectionately asked, kissing both of them on the forehead when they finally calmed down, feeling his heart too finally settling from the aches and worries.

Hua Cheng echoed his husband, hoping, so dearly hoping they’d say yes.

He couldn’t bear leave them alone after that ordeal.

“We… won’t disturb ma and pa?” Huang Qing asked in reply, peeking up from his spot in Xie Lian’s arms who nodded with a smile.

“Of course not!”

…

The candle had burned low, its warm glow dim in the dark. Nestled in the centre of the bed, comfortably tucked behind the blanket and tightly hugging their plush bunnies, were the twins sleeping in between their parents who had been coaxing them to sleep with constant reassurance. Seeing their at long last steady rise and fall of deep slumber, Xie Lian and Hua Cheng carefully got out of bed and walked towards the candle, their steps silent like the shadows.

“Ge ge… I’m sorry.” A pleading murmur in the light, an icy hand holding a warm one in desperation, in grief. “I’m sorry I joked like that.”

No further explanations, no defending himself. Just… a simple apology, a simple plea.

Xie Lian called out his name softly, covering the cold hand with his and took the step closer towards his husband. His unshed tears returned to prick his eyes and his sight turned into a watery haze. The red robes of his husband’s blurred, the image distorting. “I’m sorry too… I’m sorry I reacted like that. I thought you didn’t trust me.”

Hua Cheng slipped his hand free, raising them to cup Xie Lian’s tear-stained cheeks as he rested his forehead against his. “Never. It was a terrible joke. I was wrong.”

Xie Lian neither agreed nor denied, only responding by leaning into Hua Cheng’s touch.

Hua Cheng kissed his forehead, a hard press of anguished emotions. “I love you.”

A declaration whispered against his skin, as though desperate to let him know that he still loved the man, that he feared he wouldn’t know.

I love you.

I really really love you.

‘Please accept it, please don’t reject me.’

A fair hand rested itself atop the cold shivering one on his cheek, gently, warmly holding it. “San Lang…”

And he tilted his head to kiss the trembling lips, pressing and directing to relax the jaw and the teeth gnawing at the bottom lip, massaging their lips together in a reassuring warmth. Hua Cheng hungrily devoured the kiss, drinking in every love he could get as his hands tightened their grip. It was a fear, a valid fear aroused by his husband, yet doused by the very same man.

Moist lips, tingling in bliss, parted with their tangled taste gleaming under the candle. Turning to towards the flame, Xie Lian gently blew it out, the smoky scent filling the room.

“It’s been a long day. Let’s go to bed.”

~~*~~*~~

Day 71: Can you do it, boys?

The summer was at its peak and summer blooms were thriving in the sun, waving their greetings to those that passed.

In Paradise Manor, there were two people lying across the pagoda newly built and set up in the back garden. A small pond encircled the building, lotus buds budding above the water. It had been built on a whim, mainly to liven up the manor’s empty garden, so that the place could really feel more like a ‘home’.

A man, tall and slender, walked across the arched bridge with a tray in hand.

“Ba!”

“Finally! We thought we were gonna melt in the heat!”

Chuckling, Hua Cheng handed them the tray with bowls of crushed ice laced with different fruit juices. Huang Qing took the bowl with mango, sweet yet sour, while his brother grabbed the peach shaved ice that had a really sweet taste to it.

“Thanks, ba!”

Hua Cheng picked up his own bowl of melon shaved ice and plopped into the space in front of his sons. His gaze floated across the large expanse of land that the garden held and other than the lotus lake, the place still seemed dull to him.

“Look! A dragonfly!” He called out.

A dragonfly zipped through the budding lotus flowers, flitting and beating its wings across the water’s surface, inciting ripples to dance. The boys gasped in excitement, running to the edge of the pagoda to watch it fly.

“Hi, dragonfly!” Huang Shao greeted with a spoon in his hand, bits of his shaved ice falling into the pond with a splash.

Hua Cheng watched the scene play out while he ate his shaved ice with still an arrogant elegance in his movements, a hum playing off his lips. The dragonfly landed on a lotus, its wings stopping to rest before it zipped away.

A thought came into his mind. He then mentally calculated the days and gasped in realisation. “Oh! It’s coming soon!”

“Huh? What is, ba?” Huang Shao turned back to look at him.

A cheeky smile curled on the man’s lips as he waved a hand for his sons to come over. “Come, come. I have a very nice idea and I’ll need your help for it. It’s a surprise for ma.”

~~*~~*~~

Day 72: Mission: Surprise Ma! T-minus 7 days.

“Ma! Ma!”

“Yes, A-Shao?”

“Can we visit Qing-jie?”

“Err…”

“We can’t?”

At his son’s teary eyes and pout, Xie Lian felt dread and got down to his knees. “No, no. I’ll ask Mu Qing to come visit instead, okay?”

“Yay! Thanks, ma!”

“But…”

“But…?”

“A-Shao ah, you’re still very young. It’s not very good to be… very attached to someone else.”

Huang Shao tilted his head as Huang Qing rolled his eyes. “What do you mean, ma?”

Xie Lian bit his lip. Just how was he supposed to tell his son that it’s not good to fall in love so early when he’s still so young?

Ah, never mind. He’ll have Hua Cheng do it. Maybe he’ll know what to say.

Connecting to the communication array, he heard the bustling chatter of the other Heavenly Officials.

“Good morning!” he greeted.

Unlike the previous times when they would descend into silence, a cacophony of greetings waved back.

“Your highness! Good morning!”

“Morning! How are you?”

“Your highness, how’s the honeymoon?”

“I’m well, thank you!” Xie Lian answered, deftly ignoring Pei Ming’s teasing tone on his honeymoon.

What honeymoon? It didn’t make a difference!

…everyday was a honeymoon, that’s why.

But they didn’t need to know that.

“Is General Xuan Zhen here?” Xie Lian then asked politely.

“What do you want?” Mu Qing’s voice bit out.

“It’s not me. But it’s urgent. Do you think you can come?”

Mu Qing went silent, just like the entire communication array. After a moment did he only speak up, “Alright.”

“Where the fuck you going?” Feng Xin cut in, making his presence known.

“I’ll see you then!” Xie Lian called out before leaving the array.

“Hello? What the fuck. Where are you going!”

…

“Anyone?”

…

“Fuck.”

When Mu Qing came down to Ghost City, Xie Lian was somehow not surprised that Feng Xin tagged along. Huang Shao who was standing by his side, a hand in his, was jumping up and down while waving his hand excitedly at Mu Qing.

“Behave, A-Shao. Mu Qing isn’t running anywhere,” Xie Lian lightly scolded.

With a pout on his face and obediently listening to his father, Huang Shao said, “Yes, ma.”

Huang Qing rolled his eyes at the scene.

“Thanks for coming, Mu Qing,” said Xie Lian.

“Not a problem. What’s the urgency?” Mu Qing asked.

Xie Lian lifted his excited son’s hand that he held and said, “This one here wanted you to come.”

When his father let go, Huang Shao immediately pounced onto Mu Qing, hugging the slim man around the leg. “Qing-jie! Let’s play?”

“Oh no, no ‘playing’, A-Shao!” Xie Lian scolded. Their ‘playing’ could only be running amok in Ghost City!

Mu Qing rolled his eyes at Xie Lian and bent down to effortlessly pick up the pouting boy, the action alone enough to flip the frown up. “We’ll find something else to do, okay?”

“Mm!”

“A-Qing, you coming?” Mu Qing asked but the older twin shook his head, tightly gripping his father’s hand and edging a little closer. “Then, I’ll see you later. I’ll take care of A-Shao.”

Xie Lian nodded and watched them leave before turning to the boy in his hand. “Is there anything you’d like to do?”

Huang Qing pursed his lips, a serious expression on his face. “Train.”

Hearing that his son wanted to polish his sword skills even more, Xie Lian was elated to the point his smile stretched from ear to ear. “Then, let’s go! We can work on your lunge again!”

When dinner rolled around, Xie Lian and Huang Qing who were already bathed and ready for dinner found Huang Shao sitting by the dining table with… two other people by his side: A scowling man and a ravishing beauty.

“Why… are you two here? Like that?”

Seeing Xie Lian’s deadpanned expression as he took the seat in front of them, Mu Qing rolled his eyes and daintily took a sip of his tea. He was dressed in woman’s clothes, hair combed and beautifully tied up with a flower hairpin adorning the silver locks. Huang Shao sat between him and Feng Xin with the biggest grin ever.

Should Xie Lian ask what happened as a father?

…Should he be worried?

“A-Shao requested it,” Mu Qing answered vapidly.

“Ah…” Xie Lian slowly nodded his head and a thought came to him, ‘You’re rather accommodating of A-Shao…’

“Mm,” Huang Shao nodded his head with a grin. “Qing-jie is really really pretty! And she’s so nice. Qing-jie brought A-Shao to eat a lot of good food! We talked a lot. I also found out that Qing-jie likes cats and foxes!”

A smile broke out on Mu Qing’s face as he affectionately rubbed the boy’s head.

Feng Xin kept silent the whole time, gloomy eyes constantly darting between the excited boy and his fellow general. Who knew what was on his mind?

Patting Huang Qing on the head, he reminded, “A-Qing, remember to drink some water, okay? I’ll go help ba with the food.”

“It’s okay, ma,” Huang Qing hurriedly stood up before the man could lift his butt off the chair, his actions swift and smooth. “I’ll help ba.”

“Okay!” Xie Lian replied after a moment of thought. Despite his smile, he wondered if his son thought he would burn the kitchen too – or the food. With a soft hum, he happily drank the tea. It’s probably both.

‘Hmm, I should probably sweep the garden tomorrow. The leaves are piling up too much,’ Xie Lian pondered, getting lost in his thoughts. There was still the daily sword training with the boys and the weekly cleaning of Paradise Manor. Sure, Hua Cheng could always get someone to clean it for him but he felt that he should be doing it since he’s now married to the city lord; It’s his responsibility after all.

Maybe the boys could work on parrying tomorrow as well… Or should they work on riposting instead? Huang Qing could probably start working on either. His form was good for both offensive and defensive stances, though he seemed better with offense, whereas Huang Shao leaned towards defence…

They could always work on teamwork?

“Ma,” Huang Shao called out but his father was still spaced out. Huffing his cheeks, he leaned across the table and lightly swatted on his father’s arm, calling out louder, “Ma!”

A jolt shocked through the man and he refocused onto his son. “Huh? Yes, A-Shao? Are you hungry?”

The boy shook his head and put on a solemn expression. “I wanna marry Qing-jie when I grow up!!”

A shriek reverberated through the hall as though a firecracker had blown up. The shock burst forth from within, forcing the tea to gush in reverse, spraying it across the table like a pressurized hose exploding.

Xie Lian started at his son with his mouth undecided between opening and closing like a silent goldfish. Did he just hear right? Did Huang Shao just…

“YOU’RE ONLY SEVEN!” Feng Xin screeched as he impulsively slammed his cup on the table, shattering it in the process. “YOU CAN’T MARRY HIM!”

Instinctively, a fair hand flew out and blocked the ricocheting broken pieces of ceramic from slicing Huang Shao’s face. A fierce expression turned onto the general as a murderous, protective aura engulfed him.

Huang Shao had jumped at the sound, his body quivering like a leaf blasted by the wind while he stared at Feng Xin who was taken aback at the sight before turning back to his father that had blocked the shards. The boy’s expression fell, lips trembling and water pooling in his eyes. Reaching his hands out, fat drops of tears spilled from the corners as he cried out, “Ma…!”

Xie Lian leaned forward and picked up his son, gently soothing the crying boy in his arms as his killing intent momentarily disappeared.

“How can you yell at him like that!” Mu Qing barked, slapping the shocked Feng Xin hard with the back of his hand. “He’s just a child!”

“I…I… But he said he wanted to marry you!” Feng Xin cried out in defense, his tanned cheeks darkening in fluster.

“And. He’s. Still. A. Child!” Mu Qing growled, his curvy chest heavily heaving in anger.

Huang Shao’s cries echoed in the room, loud and reverberating. He clutched onto his father, burying his head into the chest, drenching it with his tears.

“What did you do to my son?” A low growl sounded, dark and menacing and exceptionally clear amidst the chaos.

A winter’s cold blade shone against Feng Xin’s neck, a sting sending shivers through his nerves. The intangible murderous aura doubled, laying upon his body like a mountain. E-Ming’s eye glared daggers at the man from below his jaw, as though he wished to draw blood right there and then.

Feng Xin’s skin sliced against the sharp blade when he gulped the lump of fear in his throat and he turned only his gaze to meet the dark gaze of the Supreme Demon Crimson Rain Sought Flower. “I-I didn’t do anything!” The cold fear grew in his heart when the blade pressed nearer to his neck, drawing a thin line of blood. “I only scolded him for wanting to marry Mu Qing!”

Hua Cheng snapped his gaze towards the man in question, narrowing his eye at the appearance the silver haired man took. “You tried seducing my son?” There was a sinister curl of his lips, like a predator’s arrogance in killing its prey.

“As if,” Mu Qing rolled his eyes, unafraid of the demon. “A-Shao requested for me to transform, so I did to please him.”

With the blade still on Feng Xin’s neck, Hua Cheng leaned a little closer to the nonchalant man. “So accommodating of you. I didn’t know you were that nice.”

“That’s cause he’s a sweetheart, unlike a certain bas – man I know,” Mu Qing seethed, catching himself in time when both fathers turned a murderous glare towards him. He raised his arms to gather his long hair, fluttering them to cool his neck and swept it to the side.

Feng Xin gulped at the sight of the slender neck, mentally swearing to himself, ‘Fuck, can’t he change back to a man!?’

“A-Di…” Having arrived with Hua Cheng, Huang Qing set the plate of meat on the table and rested a hand on Huang Shao’s back, the tensed worry evident in between his brows. “What happened?”

“Qing-ge…!” Huang Shao sobbed, turning to face his brother while still gripping hard onto Xie Lian’s clothes. “Uncle Feng… U-Uncle Feng!” he sniffled and the sobs came harder, tiny fists tightening their hold. “H-He won’t let me marry Qing-jie!”

Different reactions presented itself across the room; Xie Lian squeezed his son harder, Feng Xin’s expression turned gloomier, Hua Cheng killing intent spiked and pierced the Heavens, Mu Qing feigned ignorance despite the turmoil wreaking havoc in his mindscape, while Huang Qing merely went: “Oh. That.”

Surprised at the reaction, both fathers turned towards their oldest son and said, “You knew?”

Huang Qing innocently nodded his head. “A-di told me before.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Xie Lian frowned while Hua Cheng turned a piercing glare onto Mu Qing, hatred for the general multiplying by the second.

“I didn’t think it was a big deal?” Huang Qing squeaked. “Ma and ba wouldn’t let him! And I thought Qing-jie was more suitable to be with that Fish-ge ge…” His eyes shifted onto his father’s hand that held his brother and blinked.

Xie Lian pondered for a moment.

Fish-ge ge?

…He Xuan?

“Yo, I heard my name.”

Everyone in the hall jerked their heads towards the pair of newcomers, the mixed auras confusing both demon and man. Shi Qing Xuan leaned onto He Xuan as he hobbled on one leg.

“What’s wrong?” the man asked, limping towards the table. “I thought we’d be late for dinner but it looks like you haven’t started.”

“Clearly they’re in the mood for eating,” He Xuan flatly said, gesturing towards E-Ming still held against Feng Xin’s throat. “Is it ‘bully Feng Xin day’? Why wasn’t I invited?” he cackled evilly.

There was a slight breeze in the room and Feng Xin finally managed to release the breath that he had been holding, the pressure lifting off him like a breath of fresh air. However, He Xuan jumped back with Shi Qing Xuan in his arm when he felt a shadow lunge towards him, quick and decisive. With a wave of his hand, he gathered the water elements that hung in the humid air as he continued to step back.

“What’s wrong with you?” He Xuan grumbled, tilting his head sideways as E-Ming pierced the space beside his face, Shi Qing Xuan safe on the other side. “Can’t you at least let me put him down!”

“You’ll protect him anyways,” Hua Cheng replied in a monotone. E-Ming slashed out to the side, forcing He Xuan to duck and pull away.

He felt the water convene by his palm, its caress warm and welcoming as he rolled upright. Glistening water glinted in the sunlight, creating a curtain of sparkles that divided the space between the two demons, sharp yet beautiful. Ignoring the attack, Hua Cheng thrusted the scimitar out and He Xuan retaliated with a wave of his arm. Water immediately congealed into a shield and the blade struck deep into the construct.

“Child’s play,” Hua Cheng scowled, moving to pull his scimitar out when the water softened and curled around the blade. “Huh?”

Like a hand seizing hold of the blade, the water grew in density and strongly held the scimitar in place. He Xuan clenched his hand into a fist and threw his arm out. The bubble of water mirrored his movements, forcefully snatching E-Ming out of Hua Cheng’s grip and throwing it aside.

“You learned a new trick.”

“Thank you. I have to when dealing with you.”

“Not bad. Marry Mu Qing.”

“Ye - Wait, what?” He Xuan had been focused on assessing Shi Qing Xuan for any injuries, his replies half-hearted and nonchalant when Hua Cheng demanded such a thing.

The man settled gently on the floor was shocked as well, the smile frozen rigid. Maybe they shouldn’t have come to leech off the demon king.

“Marry Mu Qing. Now,” Hua Cheng narrowed his gaze, his tone leaving no room for negotiations.

“Hold on, what happened!” the former Wind God burst out, question marks dancing around his head. “Don’t you owe us an explanation?”

“A-Shao wants to marry Mu Qing. Fucking marry Mu Qing so he won’t!” Hua Cheng growled under his breath, his voice dropping down a notch so that his sons won’t hear his cuss.

“Why not ask Feng Xin to marry him?” Shi Qing Xuan frowned, his voice taut.

“Feng Xin? That bastard won’t ever agree to it. They’re constantly fighting!” Hua Cheng glowered, feeling unpleasant and uncomfortable at his son’s choice of a husband.

“Did you even ask!?”

“San Lang?” Xie Lian piped up, his voice disrupting the harsh whispers muttering in the corner

Hua Cheng leapt to his feet and ran back to his husband’s side, picking up E-Ming on the way. Huang Shao sniffled as he looked up at his father with his arms stretched out. With a soft coo, he picked up the boy and cradled him.

“What’s wrong, A-Shao?”

“Is ba not happy if A-Shao marries Qing-jie because I’m only seven?”

Feng Xin froze at the latter part of his question, inching away from the father-son duo bit by bit while Hua Cheng sighed and pinched Huang Shao’s cheek. Xie Lian prayed at the side, hoping that his husband would change his son’s mind. He prayed and prayed and prayed: Huang Shao was still young! But his hopes were dashed, torn and broken down mercilessly like a lonely sandcastle crumbling under the high tide.

“It’s not that ba isn’t happy if A-Shao wants to marry. Ba is unhappy you just want to marry Mu Qing! He won’t be a good husband!”

“San Lang!”

“Hey!!”

“Let me tell you a secret,” Hua Cheng whispered, as though he was telling Huang Shao the biggest secret in the world, “Do you know when ba fell in love with ma?”

Huang Shao repeatedly shook his head.

Leaning down to his ear, Hua Cheng muttered something barely audible into his son’s ears and whatever he said caused the boy to gasp out in admiration. “Really?”

Hua Cheng nodded his head seriously. “Because I knew ma was the best choice for me! I don’t think Mu Qing is good enough for my little boy!”

Mu Qing wore a sullen expression on his face as he silently cleaned up the mess Feng Xin created. Despite the annoyance at the demon’s comments, he relented and simply dropped his attention onto carefully picking up the ceramic pieces.

Feng Xin’s eyes darted towards the ‘woman’, her movements slow and somehow enchanting. Watching her gave him a sensation he never understood, something never felt before. It was odd, a little uncomfortable but it wasn’t something he’d shy away. His instinctual reactions never surfaced, never screamed at his mind to chase her away. Was it because he knew underneath that ravishing beauty was a man, he knew all too well? That if he stripped it away, he would see the man he’d come to hate yet — his ended his thoughts there. He was treading very close to uncharted territory here!

When Mu Qing bent down to pick up the broken pieces, Feng Xin felt a heat gather in his body, collecting and growing below his middle. He quickly looked away and suppressed the groan that crawled up his throat. He tried hard to erase the image in his mind, of the fair skin on the exposed curves, of soft hair he could grip and pull —

Rushing footsteps thudding across the floor caught his attention and he looked up in time to see Huang Qing return with a small pouch in his hands as he ran towards Xie Lian. He watched with curiosity when the child picked up his father’s bleeding hand and realisation dawned on the general when he remembered he was the one that caused that. Guilt started to eat away at his insides. Why did he feel like such a failure today?

Xie Lian glanced down when Huang Qing gently picked up his hand, having forgotten that it was bleeding. A warmth cradled his heart when his son cleaned the wounds before applying the all too familiar medicine. Past memories flashed through his mind, back when his oldest son was still acting unfamiliar with him, cold and distant, and now…

His lips neared the pale face, pressing onto the cold forehead in a gentle kiss. He felt the boy freeze under his touch and he leaned back to smile down at his shocked son. “Thank you, A-Qing.”

Huang Qing blinked his eyes twice in confusion before he realised what had just happened. Eyes widening in surprise, he quickly dipped his head in a fluster while cleaning up the things he used. “Y-You’re welcome, ma.”

On the other hand, Huang Shao was still in Hua Cheng’s arms getting his curiousity answered.

“How did you know ma was good for you?”

“Why did ma save you?”

“But you didn’t see ma for so many years! Why did ba ba wait?”

“A-Shao wish he can find someone like that to love too…”

He Xuan and Shi Qing Xuan eventually sat down at the other end of the table, feeling awkward and starving.

“Will we be eating at all?” He Xuan inquired, feeling his stomach rumble violently.

“Yeah, yeah. We will,” Hua Cheng waved him off dismissively, his attention fully on his son.

He Xuan was about to express his dissatisfaction again when he felt a sense of trepidation settle in his nerves at Huang Shao’s next words. He nervously turned towards Shi Qing Xuan who was emitting a dense frightening aura, Mu Qing’s rejecting splutters faint at the back of his mind.

Shit. That boy was going to be the death of him!

“Then A-Shao thinks that Fish-ge should marry Qing-jie!”

#hualianweek2k19 #hualian fic #slight fem!MQ #tian guan ci fu #domestic bliss #domestic fluff #slight angst #implied beefleaf #implied fengqing

20 notes · View notes

ship-ambrosia · 6 years

Text

A Fool Like Him

My good friend @sweetmemories2606 told me that yesterday was an unofficial Stingyu Day, so naturally as Stingyu is one of my favorite ships behind only Nalu and Gruvia, I had to jump on that train! Sting x Yukino needs more fanworks, so I am here to deliver!!

I promise Heavens Bringer will be updating soon! I just keep getting distracted (by things like this lol)

~~~

Sabertooth, one week after the Grand Magic Games

Word had spread quickly after the final day of the games, after the dragon invasion had been stopped, of the changes that came to the former Number 1 magic guild in Fiore. The original master, Jiemma, and his daughter Minerva had disappeared in the chaos brewing just before the fight broke out. Even before that, Jiemma had been removed from his position as master. But with his removal, the members of Sabertooth collectively realized that the guild they were fighting for and the guild that they were a part of were two different guilds entirely. And they had to choose which one they really wanted to take back home with them.

Sting Eucliffe, out of necessity, had to be the first one to make such a decision. Surely, that was why Minerva had elected to make him the new Sabertooth guild master rather than herself; so that she could slip away from their guild just as easily if it all came crashing down. In that moment at the end of the games, as he stared down the five members of Fairy Tail across the courtyard that he was to face - he remembered being so pissed that Natsu wasn't there, that he nearly hadn't listened to a word they said - Sting made that decision. They wouldn't give up, even though he had the clear advantage. They were all exhausted. Beaten up. He'd only shown his face once during the entire match, to knock Quatro Cerberus's ace out of the competition. Fairy Tail believed in the strength of the bonds between their members. Natsu had told him earlier in the games that such bonds were the source of his power, the fuel for the Fire Dragon Slayer's flames. His love for Lector, for Rogue and Frosch, reminded him of just how much he loved Sabertooth, and that he needed to fight for a Sabertooth that loved it's members. That was why he surrendered to Fairy Tail that day. That was why the Sabertooth he brought home with him became more relaxed, breathed more life. That was why, he told himself, he was so obsessed with Yukino's return.

Sting let out a sigh as he sat at his desk, filing out more paperwork. He allowed himself to lay his chin in his hands, his eyelids drooping as he allowed himself a moment to rest. Maybe Rogue was right, maybe he had been overworking himself... but it was all to show the other guilds and the Magic Council that even if he was the youngest master of a magic guild since Fairy Tail's founder, Mavis Vermillion, he took his job seriously. He also was definitely trying to avoid thinking about someone.

He doubted he could ever get through a day successfully completing that goal though, as the image of Yukino standing before the entire guild, exposed in just her tank top and skirt as Jiemma excommunicated her and forced her to remove her own guild mark, was burned into the back of his eyelids. He had been so furious with her for losing that he couldn't even stand to look at her. Sabertooth mages didn't lose. That just wasn't possible. But as the week of the games wore on, Sting's anger directed more toward himself. He hadn't know Yukino well - no one in the guild was particularly close, save for him and Rogue - but she had been a calm presence, a friendly face in an otherwise chilly crowd. He hated that he had missed her, that he disagreed with Jiemma's decision. He hated how cruel he felt in the way she had been forced out of Sabertooth. He hated how Natsu broke into Sabertooth and nearly defeated their guild master over a girl he had known for two days, while Sting had known her for a year and still couldn't bring himself to stand up for her.

And when he saw her for the first time again standing in front of the Eclipse Gate with Lucy as seven dragons stepped out of it, Sting knew he couldn't ever let Yukino leave. He couldn't ever bring the original Sabertooth back, because he cared too much. He wanted to grab Yukino, Rogue, Lector, and Frosch and hold them close and protect them from the hell descending upon Crocus. He wanted to know his friends were safe.

A knock on his door shook Sting out of his thoughts, and he quickly sat up in his chair. "Come in," he called to them, and then sucked in a breath when an angel glided across the floor toward him.

He'd had a similar reaction back at the Grand Ball. After the dragons had been "defeated" - technically all the credit goes to Natsu for that, since he destroyed the Eclipse Gate - the king of Fiore invited them all to a party. He'd dressed up, and made everyone who was choosing to stay in his new Sabertooth come as a means of announcing his formal takeover as guild master. Initially, he'd seen Lisanna Strauss walking by him while he spoke to Gajeel and done a double-take, but his heart sunk. Until he noticed her walking toward Lucy and two more girls with white hair. Lisanna had an elder sister, but only one. When the girl with the white hair in a ponytail turned, he saw that it was her, Mirajane. The other girl had white hair, only a few inches longer than Lisanna's. The rose decoration in her hair gave her away, and his heart started to pound wildly. As the group walked toward where the boys stood, Yukino saw him. The look on her face was horror and guilt. She muttered out an apology and turned around.

Sting was star struck. He knew Yukino was pretty, but he'd be lying if he said she wasn't the most beautiful girl in the room now. Seeing her all dressed up forced him to face the facts. It was like an arrow straight through his heart. His own idiocy almost let her slip away from him.

Did she hate him? Probably yes. Still, he gathered himself enough to quickly excuse himself from Gajeel and Rogue and walk forward after her. Lucy and Mirajane noticed him immediately, and he couldn't blame them for the way their expressions grew concerned.

"Yukino, wait!" Her entire body stiffened when he spoke her name.

"I didn't actually think you would be here," he explained quickly. Sting felt like his voice quivered quite obviously. He took another deep breath.

"Master and Minerva have disappeared," he began. "So we all want to start over. We're going to remake a new Sabertooth, rebuild it from the ground up."

He saw her turn around and face him. It gave him the confidence he needed to keep talking.

"We um... we were unbelievably cruel to you," he looked up, meeting her eyes for the first time in what felt like forever. She shrunk back against his blazing gaze. "But it's my goal to lead a guild that treasures its members."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I want you to come back to us."

The words echoed in his ears as he felt a very similar sensation to the moment she turned around at the ball pulse through his veins. Yukino wore her normal attire, a short strapless dress covered in an ornate cape, but it wasn't the clothes that made him focus in on her beauty this time. It was the realization he'd had, the reason he tried to keep her off his mind as much as he could. Sting clenched his fists a bit to force himself back to reality.

"Good morning Yukino," he said finally.

"Master Sting, I-" she immediately grew quiet as his expression darkened and he held up a hand.

"Just Sting," he insisted for the hundredth time since they'd gotten back from the games. Yukino's habit of adding "Master" to his name now had a way of reminding him of Jiemma - something that left a bad taste in his mouth as it also made Yukino feel more distant from him than ever before. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm truly grateful to be back in Sabertooth, I love this guild so much," she immediately began tearing up. "But I still... I don't think I belong... I shouldn't have come back-"

Sting got to his feet immediately as the walls crumbled around him. "Who's made you feel that way? Yukino?!" He exclaimed when she didn't answer his first question. "Yukino, I'm serious who is it that makes you think you don't belong, because I-"

He had made his way around his desk and toward her, and was suddenly cut off by the weight that pushed against him, bumping him back against the desk. Yukino wrapped her arms around his torso and pressed her face against his chest.

"No one," she spoke finally. "No one has made me feel that way. Everyone is trying to finally get to know each other and it's wonderful it's just I... I keep going back to that night. When no one did anything. When i couldn't have even been given the decency of having my guild mark removed in an official way. When Master Jiemma made me remove it myself. I was all alone. I don't want to be alone again."

His tongue had gone numb, Sting moving his jaw a moment but no sound came out. He had to say something. He was extremely afraid of the possibility that Yukino Aguria could walk away from Sabertooth right now if he didn't consider the right things to say. Rogue had told him he needed to be comforting. He needed to have confidence that he could put any of his members' fears to rest. On the inside, he trembled just as much as Yukino was in his arms.

"You won't be," he replied finally, and she looked up to face him. Damn him if the sight of her in tears didn't make him want to move heaven and hell just to see her smile. "Nothing like that will ever happen again because this is my Sabertooth, not Jiemma's. I won't lie. It's going to be a difficult transition, Yukino. It's going to be painful and it's going to be long. But I've changed. I was just like the wizards Jiemma wanted; cold, arrogant, pure power. I want to be warm. I want to be friends with my guildmates, and I want friendship to mean more to me than raw strength. So I need to make Sabertooth be a guild filled with all those things."

They stood there in silence for a long time, the only sound Sting could hear was the pounding of the blood in his ears.

It felt like an eternity before Yukino finally replied. A simple "Thank you, Sting." But it was more than enough for him. She paused before speaking again.

"I promise I'll help you make Sabertooth just as you envision it," she breathed out, as though she were thinking over every word. "Even if we're the last members left here, i will help you and Rogue complete your new Sabertooth."

His cheeks felt warm, and Sting couldn't believe he was blushing. He was blushing, damn it. What kind of control did this girl have over him? And more importantly, why had it taken him so long to realize just what she meant to him?

"Although... we still haven't placed your guild mark back on, have we?" Sting asked her. "I'll... I'll do it, if it's okay? Reverse the treatment that Jiemma gave you, and have the guild master place it back on."

He watched as Yukino's face turned the same shade of red as Titania Erza's hair. Sting mulled over his words in a panic, trying to discover what mistake he had clearly made.

"Th-that's very kind of you, Sting..." she stuttered. "But I... I'm wearing a dress. Perhaps I could go home and change? And come back? And then you could place my guild mark?" Her voice got higher and high in pitch with every question.

As her words revealed what he had implied, Sting blushed a brighter shade of red too. "Of course! Of course you can go home and change! I wasn't... I mean it wasn't my intention, I-"

As he tripped over his words, she smiled. And he watched, as if in slow motion, her face relaxed. Yukino leaned forward. Something pressed to his cheek, and then she stepped back into his line of vision, a softer pink on her face now. Sting's insides turned to goo.

"Thank you," her eyes were finally glittering with joy again, the way they used to when she would speak to him. "Thank you so much, Sting."

As she left his office, he couldn't help but think back to his standoff with Kagura just moments after he'd asked Yukino to come back to Sabertooth. Even though Kagura was drunk, she had incited very real fear in him. Lucy and Erza, too, when they insisted it was only natural for Yukino to join Fairy Tail. The other guilds wanted to fight for her, but Sting had sensed real competition with Fairy Tail and Mermaid Heel. He was so afraid of losing Yukino in that moment. For losing any chance he could have had to act on the feelings he had only recently discovered in himself.

It had taken him too long, the naive fool that he was. Only now he realized he was selfish in his hope of having a chance with Yukino. How could she ever feel the same after everything he had let happen to her?

The last thing she needed was a fool like him to love her.

#original post by bree #bree writes #sting x yukino #fairy tail stingyu #love me some stingyu #stingyu #sting eucliffe #yukino aguria #sabertooth #gmg spoilers #grand magic games #fairy tail fanfiction #stingyu day #angsty stingyu

73 notes · View notes

ritacaroline · 5 years

Text

Bonz Fan Fiction Ch. 12

Record Shop Madness Ch. 12

John and Laura drove out to the music studio in town. John got them there early, because she had never seen him play before, beside the one concert she attended. And he hoped he could show her around and play for her a little. His kit was already in place there at the studio, ready to play. So they arrived in there and turned on all the lights. Not a soul was present. He walked her around, showing her all the various rooms, describing their purpose, but she pretty much didn’t truly know what he was talking about, in most of the descriptions. Sure, the straight forward ones she understood quite easily, but not the slightly more complex terms. So, she mostly just nodded and said ok a lot. Back to the main recording area, John, pulled up a chair right next to his drum kit, and offered her a seat.

He then sat down at the drum set and gave her a nice sample of his musical skills. He began slowly, very cool, then, a gradual build up, showed her a lot of his fancy abilities and little tricks, such as twirling the sticks, throwing them up in the air and catching them, until finally he was at the point of pounding those skins like a man on fire. The way he’s described in every article or interview or story about him. His beautiful long shiny hair was flying through the air as though a power fan was blowing through it. However, nothing was causing that except his own pure power and energy surging through his arms and shoulders and wrists. And Laurie was just beside herself in awe. He’d been called the greatest rock music drummer of all time, and she sure didn’t know much about drumming. But she did observe that he was amazing at his instrument and he was a blazing force to be reckoned with. He looked as cool as a man could possibly look, so strong and focused and so masculine. His playing was a beautiful sample of a bit of his talent. Which caused Laurie to fall in love with him again, all over again, but even more so now, than before.

She stepped directly toward him, as he finished, and put her arms around his slightly damp neck, moist from the exertion. As she was about to kiss him, he aggressively pulled her down into his lap, while still seated at the drum set. He held her between his two strong arms and began kissing her as though there was no one else in the world except the two of them. He still had one drum stick in his hand as he totally dissolved into the dizziness that her delicious mouth caused him. She sent him to another world with the way she kissed him, her sweet soft lips and just the right pressure and sensual feel to it. He was a mess. To the point that he was oblivious that a drumstick still remained in one hand. They were pressed tightly together in a hot embrace and in a passionate kiss. The scene was so emotional, it appeared as though it should be a painting. One that was the epitome of romantic love. On canvas. It was so beautiful with her long auburn hair hanging gloriously behind her head as she leaned into him, and he held her in a mesmerizing embrace and a desirous lip lock. At that moment, quietly, Jimmy and Percy walked in, but were not heard by John or Laura. As they approached the recording room and awkwardly observed the two lovers in that hot encounter, they both stopped in their tracks and backed up slowly as to not disturb the two. They each slowly stepped backwards, and quietly out of the room, so as not to be seen. They sat down in a separate room a few doors down, to give John some privacy. They sat quietly at a table, got a few beers from the fridge. Jimmy was looking at Rob and blinking his eyes in a humorous way, attempting to say, “Did you see what I was seeing ?” Rob understood, and responded verbally, “Yeah, I saw. And wow, I’ve seen Bonz with women before, but it never quite looked like that ! That was very, hurm, uhhhm, hot. Ya know, it looked like ….. love. But, hey, I could be wrong.” Jimmy just nodded in agreement, using no words.

A few minutes later, more people entered at the front door. John Paul, Peter Grant, a few technicians. They were talking loudly and laughing as they entered, surely noisy enough to announce to John and Laurie that others were present. And they did hear, and decided to disengage and to join the others in the practice. Laurie walked out to the front of the big room and sat in front, so as to be far from the group, an attempt to not interfere. Everyone took their places with their instruments. The band worked on various unfinished pieces, adding to and improving upon them. It was a truly fascinating process in the eyes of Laurie and she absolutely loved it. She really got a good idea of how the music was created by the group. It was amazingly cool. After the practice, they all met at a local pub. Percy’s girlfriend showed up and was a really fun and comical person to have around. However, Jimmy’s girlfriend didn’t show up. And Laurie overheard Jim briefly making some type of comment to the guys that they had a disagreement and that she refused to join him. And that they may be breaking up. Jimmy was acting sort of emotional and brooding this night. He seemed down and extra crabby. Everyone there seemed to be staying out of Jimmy’s way and trying to avoid him. But no one was going to say anything about it to Jimmy. They didn’t want to get blasted, considering the mood Jimmy was in. Laura thought it was sad that none of his buddies could be counted on to offer an ear or to ask him if he’d care to share the issue with them. Seemed sort of cruel. Opposite to the way women usually carry out handling difficult issues of love. Women band together and support each other, comfort each other, encourage sharing feelings with each other. Laurie noticed Jimmy get a drink from the bar and sit down at a table, on his own for a little while. Seemed to be in heavy thought. She went over to him and put her hand on his upper arm and said, “Hi Jim, you seem a bit down.” as she sat down very close to him. “I just wondered if you would like to tell someone about what’s wrong ? Unload your worries, onto say ....me ?” A soft smile came over his face, and he said, “Sure. Thanks. I could try.”

The other guys saw them sitting and chatting seriously for quite awhile. It lasted at least a half hour. As Laurie and Jim seemed to be wrapping up their conversation, both of them stood up. Jimmy put his arms around her and they squeezed each other tightly, and then walked apart and went on their separate ways. The rest of the band was a little confused and surprised because usually when Jimmy was in a mood like earlier, no one would have luck approaching him. But - somehow Laura did. And didn’t have her head chewed off and actually seemed to have helped him or calmed him. John Paul and Bonz were looking at Jimmy, and John Paul said, “Wow, looks like your girl has used some magic powers over there with the dark entity.” Bonz, squinted a little and said to him quietly, “No, no that’s not what she used. All she used was warmth and caring. And some compassion. Sometimes that’s exactly what everyone needs.”

Next chapter (13) : https://ritacaroline.tumblr.com/post/184020498686/bonz-fanfic-part-13

#Bonzo fan fic #bonzo fan fiction john Bonham fan fic john Bonham fan fiction.

1 note · View note

bubblegumwitchswriting · 6 years

Text

Roses Pt 2 - House of M Au

. Falling . Roses Pt 1 . Pt 2 . Pairing: Billy/Teddy Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15190091/chapters/35229251

People want Billy dead but he’s busy being preoccupied with Teddy, a palace gardener who ended up saving his life. Meanwhile Teddy isn’t quite done saving lives (particularly Billy’s), when he realises all is not quite right within the palace.

Teddy had been put on the rose gardens. It wasn't because he was good with the roses: he wasn't especially. In fact he didn't have a green thumb at all (metaphorically anyway), but a job had been going in the palace gardens and it was that or he and his mom would lose the house. So Teddy bluffed his way through a vague interview and ended up under the gruff but patient tutelage of the head gardener who saw right through Teddy in half a second.

He was getting better. He even had a plant or two at home now, and he hadn't killed them yet.

Teddy suspected the main reason he'd been moved to the rose garden was to keep him firmly out of the way. Ever since he'd had an unconscious Prince on his couch, he'd been distracted, sneaking glances up at the castle, lopping bits of plant off that definitely weren't supposed to be off because his head was someplace else. The rose gardens were out of the way and while they were kept meticulously tended, they seldom had visitors.

Except Prince W- except Billy.

Teddy had caught sight of him in the rose gardens plenty of times while he had been working elsewhere. He'd sit on a bench right in the middle, staring at the fountain. He'd always looked so far away, both figuratively and metaphorically. Previously Teddy had done nothing more than wonder what was on the Prince's mind. (Okay and maybe also acknowledge that the Prince was kind of beautiful, because the Prince was kind of beautiful, but that was a harmless enough acknowledgement - it wasn't like he was ever going to meet him, get anywhere near him.)

Billy hadn't been back to the rose garden while Teddy had been working. He didn't want to admit he was waiting for a glimpse of the prince. He wasn't. (Except there was only so much lying to himself he could do and really he was just checking that Billy was safe. It was only natural to be worried. Right?)

He ran it past Kate, who had a rich father and got invitations to all the society balls but hung out in tiny coffee shops filled with broke teenagers anyway. She'd just burst out laughing.

"He is cute," she said.

She saw the expression on his face, and her laughter died away.

"Half the people in here probably have a crush on him," she said. "It's not really a big deal."

"Does that include you?" Teddy asked, deflecting.

"I prefer blondes," Kate said with a shrug and a mischievous smile. "Seriously though, stare dreamily at Prince Charming all you want but do it from a distance. If there is something going on in the castle it's not something you want to be involved in."

It was good advice. Teddy tried to follow it, but he couldn't stop wondering, especially when a week passed and Billy still hadn't visited the rose gardens. And maybe Billy was just busy. Maybe he had things to do. Maybe he was avoiding Teddy (stop being so high school Altman). The point was there was a thousand reasons why he might be absent from the rose garden and they didn't have to all involve Billy getting hurt by the doctor or whatever conspiracy he'd become entangled in.

On a particularly hot summers day, Teddy was moved from the rose gardens and put onto the formal gardens, since there was some fancy party coming up and the landscaping had to be perfect down to the tiniest twig. Kate was going and had teasingly informed him she would assessing the state of the gardens. Teddy had laughed perfunctorily and repressed an urge to ask her to keep an eye on Billy.

Working the formal gardens was exhausting: his mistakes were more obvious and his inexperience was more hampering, but it did take him closer the castle. He stole as many glances up at the imposing structure as he dared but though he saw Princess Lorna, a blur that might have been Thomas or Pietro, and the infamous Scarlet Witch, he didn't see Billy. The back of his neck burnt, his fingers were so stiff he could barely move them, he was probably severely dehydrated, and he was only half done. He turned to see if the others had stopped for lunch and saw the one person he'd been trying to catch all week.

Billy was walking down the steps, one side of a man Teddy didn't recognise. His twin walked the other side, kicking out irritably as they descended and clearly only half listening to the man's lecture. Billy wasn't listening either, but his posture was more demure, his expression was neutral, unchanging. Teddy's heart skipped a beat. If his fingers weren't wrought into shape, he might have dropped his trowel.

Billy passed right by him. He glanced down but he didn't make any sign he recognised Teddy. Teddy's initial disappointment turned into something sharper when Billy walked on, so blank and so distant. Was Billy just pretending not to know him, either to protect Teddy or because Teddy was no longer any use to him? Or was there something more sinister going on? Did Billy truly not know who he was?

The man settled his two pupils under a tree on a nearby patio. Thomas was complaining it was hot. Billy didn't say a word, just sat when he was asked. Teddy tried to focus solely on the flowers in front of him, but it was hard not to look up, harder not to listen. The man was quizzing the twins on various aspects of court manners all of which were lost on Teddy. Thomas answered sporadically and with little interest. Billy didn't speak at all unless directly prompted and his voice was so low Teddy couldn't make out the exact words.

A shiver ran down Teddy's spine, and he suddenly felt cold, like the sun had gone in though it still blazed above. He turned and saw a guard at the top of the steps, glaring down at him. The guard's gaze felt chilly and heavy and Teddy guiltily turned his attention firmly back to the flowers. The guard stayed at his post at the door, and Teddy could feel his eyes on him, the whole time he worked. His heart beat was loud in his ears as he stood to leave he half expected the guard to follow him, to escort him away to the palace dungeons or maybe just to a dark alley where he'd disappear never to be heard from again.

He made his escape however, and was allowed to hurry back to the sheds where the garden staff kept their tools. He persuaded someone to swap patches with him, but it hardly mattered: by the time he finished his lunch and returned the Princes, their tutor and the guard were all gone.

The next day Teddy was back to the rose gardens.

He had stopped pruning about five minutes before, sheers hanging loosely, but when someone came up behind him and tapped him on a shoulder he jumped and nearly took off his hand.

"Sorry," a familiar but unfamiliar voice said, the word spat out quick as a bullet. Teddy turned to find Prince Thomas staring at him. Teddy couldn't quite work out if the Prince's expression was accusatory or interested but he hedged his bets and pulled off the best bow he could while already kneeling and holding a pair or garden sheers.

"You kept staring at my brother," Thomas commented, flinging himself back on a bench and throwing his legs out in front of him. He had his arms tightly folded, and Teddy felt his heart in his throat. It made it hard to speak, and words failed him anyway.

"Are you one of them?" Thomas demanded.

"One of who?" Teddy asked, a little bemused. "Uh your highness," he added belatedly but Thomas just waved the address away.

Thomas glanced around the rose garden faintly dismissively and then flicked his eyes back to Teddy again, looking him up and down.

"I can see why Billy likes the roses so much," Thomas commented with a sly smirk that flicked out and then was gone again as quickly as a snake's tongue. Teddy wasn't sure what Thomas was implying. He was hot and dirty, his hair damp and sticking to his forehead, a complete contrast to Prince Thomas who was dressed casually but immaculately. (Actually, he was sure, but he didn't want to read into that because it would send his hopes sky high and gardeners didn't have any chance with Princes, not really).

"I don't think you're one of them," Thomas continued, not seeming to care that Teddy's input to the conversation was approaching zero, "because Billy is wary of them and even now -"

His voice trailed off and a new train of thought seemed to hit him.

"Who are you?"

The question hit Teddy like a freighter as Thomas suddenly turned his full attention on him. He was as forceful as his twin, though green eyes didn't have as much sway on Teddy as brown. It was enough, however, to have him blurting out his full name.

"Don't know you," Thomas said thoughtfully. He stretched, gave Teddy another up and down examination.

"My brother mentioned passing out on a couch somewhere."

The unsaid question hovered. Teddy wondered if there was a remonstrance coming somewhere. Thomas was hard to read: not only were the expressions he allowed too quick, most of the time his face was schooled anyway. He blew from one thing to another in hurricane mode, it was hard to keep up.

"That was me," he admitted. "I found him barely conscious and I took him back to mine to recover."

Thomas stared at him.

"Why?"

Teddy blinked.

"Sorry?"

"Why rescue him? It might have gotten you into trouble."

Teddy couldn't quite work out how to answer that.

"He was hurt?" he said and it sounded like a question.

Thomas nodded thoughtfully.

"He doesn't remember you. He doesn't remember any of it. They watch him all the time and they’ve done something I know they have but I don’t know what and I don't know iftheyaregoingtotryagainorwhenorhowtoprotecthimor-"

Thomas's rapid fire speech which became more rapid fire as he grew more distressed to the point of illegibility, cut off when a voice called for him. Teddy stilled and Thomas's smirk was suddenly back.

"I can see why you like the rose gardens," he commented in a low voice, flicking his gaze over to Teddy like a whip. Teddy's cheeks coloured.

"It's my job," he protested too quickly but quietly and luckily Thomas didn't seem to hear him. He'd moved away from Teddy in the blink of an eye and was sitting on the bench Billy usually occupied. Teddy belated followed his cue and picked up the shears again, pretending to work.

Billy came into view, not really looking at anything. His gaze passed over Teddy and, though he gave a small, perfunctory smile, again there was no recognition at all in his eyes. Teddy shivered.

"Mom wants us," Billy told his brother. "Guests are arriving."

"Already?" Thomas complained. "The party is not for hours."

Billy shrugged, disinterested.

"Fine," Thomas said, standing. "Race you?"

Billy didn't respond. Thomas turned back to Teddy and mouthed see with an accompanied exaggerated frown. Then he was gone.

Teddy watched as Billy walked away, his back perfectly straight as Kate's advice rang clear in his head, mingling with the less than illuminating conversation with Thomas. He had a bad feeling about the party and he wondered how amenable Kate would be to befriending and watching over two princes.

Part Three

#House of M AU #Billy/Teddy #billy kaplan #Teddy altman #tommy shepherd #young avengers #kate bishop

2 notes · View notes

moiraineswife · 6 years

Text

Family Lies - The Locket Part 2 - A Mollymauk Fic

Part 2 of The Locket series! Thank you to @9thlevelcounterspell for holding my hand and pompoms through this endeavour to cobble something together.

Click here for Part 1!

Title: Chapter 2: The Locket

Fic Summary: Molly has no memories of his past before he woke up at the side of the road, half-dead, and was taken in by the carnival that became his family.The only connection he has to who he was before is a locket given to him by Yasha.

Now travelling with his new, strange group, he begins to understand who he was before, and is forced to face the ghosts that emerge from the locket he opened with unthinking curiosity.

Mollymauk backstory/character study/exploration of the new team dynamic. Something in here for everyone. And shit loads of angst. Because I'm me.

Chapter Summary: The new family that's blossoming around Molly starts to discuss their old family. Mostly team fluff and bonding, with a little bit of backstory speculation thrown in because why not?

Teaser: It didn’t take them long to get onto the subject of their families. It was inevitable, really.

They were six, occasionally seven, whenever Yasha drifted back to join them, travellers in a wagon with a single horse which was, miraculously, still alive. There were only so many times they could listen to jester half-shriek, half-sing, without a single hit note anywhere to be found, the same sailor’s songs Fjord had taught her before the desperation to avoid yet another rendition of it drove them all into small talk.

Link: AO3

It didn’t take them long to get onto the subject of their families.

It was inevitable, really. They were six, occasionally seven, whenever Yasha drifted back to join them, travellers in a wagon with a single horse which was, miraculously, still alive. There were only so many times they could listen to jester half-shriek, half-sing, without a single hit note anywhere to be found, the same sailor’s songs Fjord had taught her before the desperation to avoid yet another rendition of it drove them all into small talk.

Molly was taking his turn lounging in the back of the wagon with Jester, his head resting idly in her lap, allowing her to comb her fingers through it and braid it. This inevitably meant it getting knotted so badly Beau had offered to cut it off with a dagger to salvage it, but he had managed to untangle it all so far.

Fjord started it, turning to Beau as Jester began humming a very familiar tune that struck fear into the hearts of all those around her, and said with an air of thinly concealed desperation, “So, this vacation you’re on right now. Your folks okay with it, are they?”

She narrowed her eyes at him in that way she did. Molly lazily turned his head to get a better view- only to have Jester give him a good idea what it felt like to be the horse as she yanked on his hair like reins, “Stay still,” she huffed at him, “You’re making it more difficult to create my masterpiece.”

Choosing to pass over the ominous use of the word ‘masterpiece’ he instead fished another few mint leaves out of the pouch at his belt and began chewing them.

He had found a small clump of fresh mint the other day and had eagerly picked it. Over the course of their travels he had managed to persuade most of the others to try some.

Fjord had shrugged noncommittally, claiming not to be offended by it, but also not really sure why anyone would bother chewing it.

Beau had glowered at him as though he’d offered her freshly picked hemlock instead and refused to put it anywhere near her mouth.

Jester had liked it so much she requested more. Which she had promptly sprinkled all over the top of one of her doughnuts in order to make it ‘mint flavoured.’ She was a strange soul, but Molly wasn’t one to judge.

Caleb, apparently already used to the practice, had taken some without needing to be urged and thanked him for it.

He had also helped coax Nott into trying some. The leaves had remained in her mouth for all of twenty seconds before she spat them out and scrubbed at her tongue with her fingers, looking disgusted.

“Yeah, they were cool with it,” Beau said, shrugging, “No big deal.”

Molly, recognising the tone by now, absently riffled through the deck of cards that were rarely out of his hands, and threw one at her like a glaive. Happily, her attention was focused on Fjord, and so it hit her in the side of the head. She snatched at it before it fell and whirled on him, torn between staring down at it.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” she demanded, brandishing it at him.

Above him, Jester cried eagerly, “Oh me! Let me see it! I will reveal the secret message it conceals!”

Abandoning the ‘masterpiece’ of Molly’s hair, she crawled to the edge of the wagon and took the card from Beau. She stared down at it for almost a full minute then burst out laughing, with such a loud shriek that the horse snorted, lashing its tail, startled by the sudden noise. Caleb quieted it with a gentle touch to the neck while Jester rolled around the bottom of the wagon, clutching her stomach.

“What?” Beau demanded, glaring at Molly who just offered her a soft smile, and hastily pulled his legs up against his chest to avoid the retaliatory whack from her staff.

Controlling herself with difficulty, Jester sat up again, holding the card before her as though she was about to bless someone with it, she announced, “It means that you’re lying.”

Molly plucked the card from Jester’s fingers and deftly slotted it back into the deck as Beau fumed, “I am not.”

“Oh but you are,” Molly said, grinning at her upside down from where Jester had yanked his head by the horns back into her lap so she could continue playing with her hair, “You’re lying through your teeth, and you’re doing a very poor job of it, I must say.”

“My parents don’t care that I’ve gone on this trip!” she burst out, as though increasing her volume would make them less likely to see through her bullshit.

“Mm, that’s closer, but still not quite the truth, is it?” Molly said, smiling at her.

“You better shut your mouth so I can’t see those teeth of yours any more or I swear I’ll knock them down your throat, ”Beau snarled at him, starting forward before being restrained by Fjord’s gentle hand on her shoulder.

In response, Molly bared his fangs at her. She growled.

“What are you trying to say, Mollymauk?” Caleb asked, frowning slightly at him from where he was up front walking the horse.

Nott was currently sitting on its back, occasionally accepting the flowers Caleb passed to her from the side of the road. The first time she had tried this the horse had nearly bolted and left them alone in the wilderness. But by now, as with so many other things, the poor beast seemed just resigned to its fate. Molly was fairly certain it was counting down the days to Winter’s Crest with eagerness. Though he doubted Jester would ever actually let him butcher and eat it.

“You come from money, yes?” He shot at Beau. It was a rhetorical question, but she grunted vaguely in a way that meant ‘yes’. “Girls like you that come from money like that aren’t generally allowed to wander the countryside wherever they will. Maybe your parents truly don’t care, I know I certainly wouldn’t-“ she made a rude hand gesture towards him, and he responded with one of his own, “But my guess is they have no idea you’re taking this little tour of the world.”

Beau flushed red at that and Molly smirked, popping another mint leaf into his mouth and feeling satisfied.

“Uh, what about siblings?” Caleb interjected as Beau clenched her fists tightly and glared in Molly’s direction. It was a very obvious attempt at defusing the situation, but it was curiously difficult to deny the awkward wizard anything. “Brothers? Sisters?”

“What about them?” Beau muttered, looking away from Molly.

“Well, do you have any? Don’t they miss you being away from home for so long?” Caleb asked.

Molly cracked an eye open to peer at Beau. She had gone curiously quiet, as though all the rage and fight that had been blazing through her only a moment before was gone. “Got a sister. Younger,” she grunted, finally, “I miss her but she-“ She broke off, then shrugged, “She’s cool. It doesn’t bother her, she just wants me to be happy and all that sappy shit...” she trailed off, scuffing her toe against the ground.

This time, Molly judged, she wasn’t lying. She was still hiding something from them but...This time he had no desire press her.

“So, what about you?” Beau demanded, turning to Fjord with an almost alarmingly rapid rise in the volume of her voice as she very pointedly shifted the focus to the half-orc.

Fjord sighed, “I’ve got siblings. One brother, he’s a few years younger than me, and six sisters, some older, some younger, I’m kind of in the middle.”

Nott made a small choking noise from her perch atop the unfortunate horse. “Your parents had eight children?” She squawked, looking horrified at the very idea.

“Yup,” Fjord said, shrugging his shoulders, “It wasn’t that bad. Two of my sisters ended up as captains, and I ended up getting my first job on one of their ships before I worked my way up.”

“Hold on,” Beau interjected, goggling at Fjord, “You said your sisters were captains?”

“Sure,” Fjord replied easily. He frowned down at Beau as she continued to goggle at him, as though he’d announced his sisters each had three heads and twelve arms. “You know,” he said, leaning in conspiratorially to Beau, “It’s only really humans that bother about that shit. Half-orcs, not so much.”

“Tieflings don’t either!” Jester chimed in.

“In my experience, tieflings can take or leave gender as they see fit,” Molly supplied mildly, “It’s definitely a human thing.”

Jester nodded her agreement. “Definitely.”

“Definitely,” Nott agreed, surprising them all by chipping in to the conversation.

“Humans have many things other races do not,” Caleb added, “And a lot of them are very stupid and unnecessary.”

Molly smiled over at the wizard, “Excellently put,” he said, with the smile he gave the wizard whenever he wanted to see him blush.

“Don’t tease him,” Jester chided him in Infernal, lightly slapping his shoulder.

Molly’s grin broadened, “I wasn’t teasing, my dear, I was being honest.” he replied in the same language, “But he does turn a delightful red colour when you get him flustered, don’t you think?”

“Well you shouldn’t fluster him,” she said, “It’s not nice.”

He snorted at the irony of that, but decided not to comment on it.

Caleb, still slightly pink, turned to Fjord, cleared his throat and said, “So you’re father was a sailor, too. What about your mother?”

Fjord smiled at that, “She was a blacksmith,” he informed them all. Even Jester looked up in interest at this. Apparently it hadn’t yet come up in her travels with the half-orc. “Yup, that’s how she and my father met, see. He was also trained to protect the ships, as well as sail them. He went to her for weapons when they stopped in Port Damali one day. Said he fell in love the moment he set eyes on her.”

Jester ‘awwww’d’ loudly at this, while Beau mimed vomiting into the grass at the side of the road, making Molly snort in amusement.

“Was she very beautiful?” Jester asked excitedly, apparently not noticing either Molly or Beau’s reaction to this.

“Still is,” Fjord said with a soft smile.

Jester’s grin turned positively wicked and she leaned out of the wagon slightly to say, eyebrows waggling suggestively, “Maybe that’s where you get your good looks, hm?”

Fjord promptly blushed at that, which only made Jester look more pleased.

“You shouldn’t fluster people, it’s not nice,” Molly said in Infernal, imitating Jester’s voice.

She tugged on one of his horns irritably and he smirked some more, so she did it again. Then she peered up at Fjord and said, still in Infernal, “He turns a very amusing colour too, though.”

“That he does,” Molly replied, lazily casting another glance in Fjord’s direction.

He raised his tail and Jester slapped hers against it, both of them smiling.

“I still haven’t gotten used to that,” Nott said, eyeing Molly’s tail as he flicked it idly from side to side.

“That we have tails?” Jester asked, cocking her head and frowning.

Nott nodded.

“Ah, but there are so many uses for them,” Molly said, lightly smacking Fjord’s ass as he moved around the cart to walk beside Caleb. He flushed again and Jester grinned.

Nott giggled, looking eager, “What else?” she asked, eyes shining with interest.

Molly smiled and shifted slightly, dangling his tail over the side of the wagon and knocking on it to get Frumpkin’s attention. Caleb’s familiar, now restored to cat form much to the wizard’s delight, trotted over and immediately began batting at the tip of Molly’s tail as he jerked it out of reach.

Nott laughed even harder, leaning around the edge of the horse to watch.

“Careful,” Caleb warned, though he too was smiling, “His claws are sharp.”

He wasn’t wrong. Molly was just a little too slow and Frumpkin’s claws tore through the delicate skin. With a soft hiss of pain he tugged it back up into the cart.

“Sorry,” Caleb said, frowning apologetically as Frumpkin continued to look around for the source of his entertainment.

“Not at all, I was asking for it,” Molly replied mildly, smiling.

“I’m the cleric!” Jester shrieked, “Let me see it! I will tend to your wounds.”

“I really don’t think it needs-“ Molly began, but Jester had already seized his tail and yanked it up to her eyes to inspect it.

“Poor tail,” she said, prodding at the thin slashes. She pressed a soft kiss to it and then released him, “All better,” she announced.

“All better indeed,” he agreed, leaning forwards and pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, “Thank you, sweetling.”

Jester beamed at him.

“What about you, Jester?” Nott asked, who had now turned right around on the horse’s back, facing the two of them in the cart.

Molly returned his head to Jester’s lap and allowed her to keep playing with his hair as Beau said, “Yeah. You got twelve siblings stashed up in Nicodranas somewhere?”

Jester laughed at that, “Definitely not,” she replied, “I am an only child,” she announced, smiling, apparently satisfied by this.

“Figures,” Fjord muttered under his breath.

“What is that supposed to mean?” she demanded, glowering at the tall half-orc, hands planted on her hips.

“You’re just a very singular individual, darling, couldn’t picture it any other way,” he replied, smoothly.

Jester considered this for a long moment, a faint crease between her brows. Then she beamed and settled herself back down in the wagon, looking rather pleased and proud. “Quite right,” she nodded.

“Your father isn’t at home though, is he?” Molly said, craning his head back in her lap to squint up at her, “The first day we met I remember you asking me about him,” he spread the cards in a fan and waved them under her nose to underline his point.

“I did ask you!” she said, looking excited he remembered. “The truth is I have never met him, or-“ she broke off, frowning slightly, “I did when I was very, very small, my mother said But I don’t remember, so it doesn’t count.”

“Reasonable,” Molly agreed.

“He left my mother when I was very young. But she wouldn’t tell me why. Or where he went. Or what he was like.”

“So what?” Beau said incredulously, snorting, “You figured you’d just traipse up and down all of Wildemount until you found out for yourself?”

“Yes,” Jester said, composedly.

“Oh,” Beau said, apparently taken aback by this matter-of-fact reply, “Well...Good luck with that,” she finally managed to get out, obviously at a complete loss for how to respond to Jester.

Molly had noticed that a lot of people seemed to have that reaction to her. And what was more, she seemed to like it.

“Thank you, Beau,” Jester said, composedly.

“So, what’s your mother like?” Fjord asked conversationally.

“She’s a wonderful woman,” Jester said, nodding sagely, “A blue tiefling, just like me, and very, very beautiful. The most beautiful woman in all the world.”

“You can’t technically say that, though,” Caleb said, frowning, “Because you haven’t seen every woman in the world to know that-“ He caught the ‘stop talking now’ look that Fjord was giving him and broke off, but too late.

“No!” Jester declared, “She is the most beautiful woman in all the world. Lots and lots of people say it. People come from all over the world to see her and be kissed by her.”

“Be kissed by her?” Nott repeated, eyes wide.

Jester nodded, “Yes. She was blessed by the Traveler, you see, to be so beautiful that people will come from far and wide to see her. And she’s magical, too. If you’re kissed by her, you’re destined to meet your soulmate.”

Everyone took a long moment to digest this but really, Molly thought, given the way Jester was, that story could have been a lot more shocking.

“So, if they’re destined to meet their soulmate from a kiss...What wondrous thing happens if they sleep with her, then?” he asked her in Infernal, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

“Me,” Jester replied primly.

He choked on his mint leaves.

Jester patted him on the back, grinning. Then she turned her attention to Nott, “What about you, Nott?” she trilled.

The little goblin girl gave a small shudder. “Oh, my family were dreadful. Definitely not magical at all,” she said, shaking her head so hard her large ears flapped emphatically. “And I certainly don’t want to find them on this trip.”

“You ran away from them, then?” Fjord asked, the big man’s voice surprisingly gentle.

Nott nodded firmly. “Oh yes. But I...I may have...Taken a few things before I left.”

“A few things?” Fjord repeated, “What kinds of things?”

“Gold things,” Nott said, wringing her hands in her lap as though expecting them to be angry with her. “Lots of gold things.” She paused a moment, then amended, “Actually all of them.”

“All of them?” Molly repeated, eyebrows raised as he peered upside down at Nott.

She nodded and then confessed in a rush, “I stole all of the gold that my clan king had before I ran away.”

A long moment of silence followed this pronouncement. Then both Beau and Molly burst out laughing at the same moment.

“Good for you, kid,” Beau said, smiling and giving Nott a gentle tap on the shoulder with the end of her staff.

Nott smiled around at them all rather sheepishly, but looked pleased with herself all the same.

“Caleb,” she said, turning to the wizard walking along absently beside the horse, for once actually paying attention to the conversation and not one of his many books. “Do you want to share anything?”

Caleb looked around at everyone watching him, cleared his throat and said, “You have been my only family for a little while, now,” to Nott who smiled a little sadly and patted him on the shoulder. “My mother still lives in Zemni,” he admitted, “But I haven’t seen her in some time. She’s a bookmaker.”

“You continue to find new and amusing ways of shocking me each and every day that we travel together, Caleb,” Molly said, sardonically.

“What about your father?” Fjord asked, the group as a whole ignoring Molly’s comment.

“My father died when I was a teenager,” Caleb admitted, not looking too sorry about this. “He was not a very nice man, and he did not like magic. After he died, my mother took care of me, and found books so that I could study some more. When I was ready, she encouraged me to leave and travel, learn more.”

“Any siblings?” Beau asked.

“I had a sister,” Caleb said, very quietly, “But she...She died. She, she was always rather frail and she grew ill one Winter. She did not get better.”

Nott gently patted Caleb’s arm and he smiled, squeezing her hand in answer.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Fjord said quietly.

“It was a very long time ago,” Caleb replied, mechanically.

Molly frowned slightly. There was something...Off about his story. Not by much, but Molly had gotten very good at reading people during his time at the carnival. It had been essential to picking the correct marks with his tarot readings, and responding properly to their reactions.

He didn’t have time to question the wizard, however, because a moment later Jester flicked one of his horns to get his attention and he looked up at her instead.

“I haven’t forgotten about you, Mollymauk,” she sang, prodding him in the side with the tip of her finger, making him squirm away from her. Perhaps the biggest mistake he had ever made in his life was letting Jester see how damned ticklish he was.

“There are a lot of things about me that are hard to forget, sweetheart,” Molly said with a lazy grin, “You’ll have to be more specific.” he said, more focused on batting her evilly wiggling fingers away from him than on the conversation.

“Your family,” she said, blinking down at him, “Everyone else has said things, but not you.”

“Well that’s simple,” he said with an easy smile, “You’ve already met my family.”

Jester frowned down at him, her nose scrunching rather adorably as she did so, “No we haven’t. I would definitely have noticed if we had ran into a flock of lavender coloured tieflings in fancy coats,” she plucked at the silk coat he was sprawled in.

Molly just smiled up at her, “You did meet them. Orna, and Toya, and Gustav. Have you forgotten already? It wasn’t that long ago, surely. Too many doughnuts, I think, they’re rotting your brain.”

“My brain is not rotten,” Jester declared, “It’s the most unrotten thing in the world!”

“Quite right,” Molly agreed, patting her hand.

“But they weren’t your family family,” Jester said, “They weren’t tieflings.”

“Your powers of perception never fail to astound me,” Molly replied. Jester jabbed him irritably with the tip of her tail. “You’re right, they weren’t tieflings, but they were my family,” he said, hoping that would be enough to stop the flood of questions that were causing an uncomfortable prickle of cold dread to slide down his spine. “All of them. And Yasha, of course.”

“But what about your family family,” Jester persisted, “The other lavender tieflings of the world, you know. We want to hear all about them!”

He tensed slightly, drawing his head out of her lap and sitting up, spine stiff, at the same time Beau said, “Yeah, c’mon Tealeaf, everyone else shared. Take your turn.”

“I bet your mother was really, really pretty,” Jester continued to prattle, seemingly oblivious to the fact that this was the last thing he wanted to discuss.

“Leave it, Jester,” he said, his voice quiet and strained, but he wasn’t sure that she heard.

“Did she have tattoos as well? Or is that more a ‘you’ thing? Oh! Did she make your cloak for you?” she continued.

The rest of the group had fallen a little more quiet now, perhaps sensing the tension that seemed particularly tight around his chest, squeezing the air from his lungs, making it painful to breathe, crushing his heart.

“Stop it,” Molly whispered, staring straight ahead, that cold dread that had been snaking its way up his spine snapping taut like a whip, stinging at his raw nerves.

He clenched his hands in his lap to stop the trembling, but it didn’t do any good.

“What about siblings, then?” Jester persisted, head cocked to one side, voice now alive with curiosity, “A little sister, maybe? You would be a good older brother, I think, you-“

“Shut up!” he barked, silencing her at last as he turned on her, red eyes flashing, fangs instinctively bared. “How about you mind your own damned business for once in your life,” he snapped at her.

Jester’s eyes had gone wide, her mouth slightly open. She didn’t say anything, but she stared at him as though he was her once beloved pet suddenly turned savage.

There was a tight lump in his throat and he could already feel the guilt creeping into him, smothering the flare of anger that he was still struggling to place.

All the same, he shoved himself out of the wagon, unable to take the stares of the others, shoved his hands into his pockets and muttered, “I’m going to walk awhile. Someone else can take a turn.”

Without another word he sped up to walk ahead of their little convoy. The wagon didn’t move fast, with their sad, solitary horse to pull it, and it didn’t take much effort to get clear ahead of them, out of range of their whispered comments about his behaviour, their prying eyes, and above all, the hurt on Jester’s face.

************

33 notes · View notes

caliboyjaeffrey · 7 years

Text

Public Humiliation (Yuta x Reader)

Rating: M

(A/N) It’s ya girl, Ry, back at it again with that smutty goodness, now kinkier than ever! Let’s all be honest: Who here has been personally victimized by Nakamoto Yuta? Everyone? That’s what I thought. What better way to celebrate our combined demise then with some kinky Yuta smut? Enjoy my little nasties!

You felt your face blaze with heat as the audience members burst into fits of laughter, practically busting stitches while you fought the urge to run off the set. "Oh my, Yuta," the television host chuckled cordially, eyes crinkling at you in sympathy as you looked down at your hands folded in your lap in shame. "It seems your translator needs to brush up on her Japanese quite a bit, don't you think?"

You furrowed your brow in embarrassment when Yuta picked up the mic and grinned, "Maybe just a little bit, I'll help her out later." You glanced out of the corner of your eye to see said boy smiling secretly at you as you sat behind the other members, staring into Taeil's back to avoid his gaze. You saw his smile falter when you refused to acknowledge him, the show moving along as you translated the Japanese questions into Korean for the boys, careful with your answers this time to avoid messing up again. Poor Mark was blushing as well, sending you sympathetic looks that signaled he was just as sorry as you were. Mark, as someone who has lived in Canada, had been asked if he prefers to use chopsticks or western utensils. His answer has been chopsticks, but when you went to translate it for the MC and audience into Japanese, you had accidentally mispronounced and said he liked to use 'bridge' instead. So here you were now, furious with yourself and at Yuta who had simply topped off your anger with his teasing comment. You wished and wanted with all your heart for the show to end as quickly as possible, so you could scurry your way to the nearest bathroom and maybe cry a little. It didn't seem like it, but you could still feel the amused stares of the audience as they payed special attention to how well you pronounced things now. It made your palms sweat where you clutched the mic and your voice go hoarse when you had to repeat what one of the boys said. This felt like a land of eternal embarrassment and suffering. A few more commercial breaks later and the show was finally finished, the boys being showered in a thunderous applause as they bowed gratefully to the MCs and audience. The hosts thanked them for being able to be there, and just as you were about to sneak off stage, they turned their evil eye towards you. "And let's not forget to thank your hardworking translator! She certainly did the best she could," one of the MCs grinned, practically sneering if the camera wasn't capturing them at that moment. You bowed and thanked them with a tight lipped smile, once again seeing Yuta's concerned face out of the corner of your eye as you stalked off stage. You walked without a single glance behind you, trudging with a purpose to the closest bathroom you could find backstage. You spotted one, already feeling your throat tighten and eyes prick as you reached for the handle. There was a sudden strong grip on your other wrist, stopping you from pulling open the door as you were whirled around. You didn't have to even turn before you knew who it was as you greeted them politely, "Yuta." He watched you cross your arms with a furrowed brow, running his tongue over his bottom lip nervously, "Are you okay?" "If 'okay' means completely and utterly humiliated, then absolutely," you retorted, swallowing hard as you tried to force your tears back into your eyes. You hated the fact that Yuta looked absolutely comforting in that moment, his handsome face soft and his chest practically begging for you to bury your head in it. You wanted to stomp your foot like a child you felt so petulant about the whole situation. Yuta noticed you struggling with your emotions, and spoke softer this time, his tone considerate, "Baby..." "Don't 'baby' me," you hiccuped, tightening your arms around your body as you looked down at the floor, watching a single tear drop down and splatter on the boring white linoleum tile. "Come here," he smiled, arms opening up to you encouragingly, wanting you to embrace him as his fingers wiggled invitingly. You let out an exasperated sigh and sob in one breathe, pushing yourself deep into Yuta's hug. His lovely designer shirt muffled your soft sobs and soaked up all your tears better than any tissue, one of his hands drawing comforting patterns on your back as he tucked your head underneath his chin. "I-it was an honest mistake, you know," you sniffled, pulling away to look up at him with puffy eyes. His own big brown eyes were understanding and warmhearted as he nodded along with your words, lightly rocking your bodies side to side to some silent music. "I know," he agreed, his thumb wiping away the tear tracks from your cheek and the mascara that smudged underneath your eyes. He twisted his mouth to the side, his brown eyes dulling with his words, "But guess who gets the worst boyfriend award for adding to his girlfriend's embarrassment on live television? Me." "No you don't," you whined, already feeling bad for taking your mistake out on him even when he was just trying to lighten the situation earlier. You tiptoed and kissed his lips to relax his features again, unable to see an unhappy Yuta for more than a second. A frown simply didn't fit his face, he was too happy and beautiful when he smiled. He met your pecks, a small smile gradually returning to his face with every kiss you placed on his mouth, "What do you think you're doing? Stealing my own technique for making you not mad at me?" You blushed, but not from humiliation this time as he landed a good and full kiss on your mouth, one that made your eyelids sink shut and your knees weaken. You leaned into his hold, hands gripping his shirt as he caressed your lips with a cheeky swipe of his tongue. You gasped and you could feel him grin into the kiss as he invaded your mouth with his wet muscle, tasting you fully as you let out a quiet moan of appreciation. A sudden loud noise back on the set made you pull away from him quickly, taking a full step back as you glanced down the hallway nervously to see where the crash came from. You heard shouts of people reassuring others that it was simply a wooden prop falling, and calmed down, looking back up at Yuta to see a smirk fixed on his lips. "What?," you asked exasperatingly, arms flopping by your side as he laughed at your childish action. "It's so cute when you act like we're going to get caught," he grinned, tugging you close by the waistband of your skirt. Your eyes glanced down for a split second to observe the way his fingers slipped inside confidently, your tummy tumbling from such a simple gesture. "Pretty much everyone knows at this point, you know.” "I do know that," you sighed, folding your arms again as he pulled your hips to his, his gaze already burning with something else. You pointedly put more space between the two of you, "But we should remain professional in a place like this." "Oh, so that moan just now," he feigned confusion, pointing between the two of you. "That was professional or...?" "Quit it," you pouted, smacking his shoulder lightly as your face got heated again. Rolling your eyes, you grabbed onto his hands and placed them back to his side like a teacher telling a student to keep their hands to themselves, "It's like you still live to tease me, Yuta." And by still, you meant those months before he began to secretly date you where he would absolutely torment the living soul out of you. Teasing and picking on you in private, in public, in front of the other members, in front of his seniors, even in front of your boss sometimes. You had thought he wanted you gone, fired, out of his life and maybe Seoul completely. But in the end, after a heated make out session on the hood of your car in the SM Entertainment parking garage and the roughest sex in the backseat of your car, you realized his real intentions. From that day on, Yuta and you were a secret item, though, like he said, more often than not people could guess that the two of you were together just by the way you treated each other. "How can I not tease you when you're always acting so cute when I do it?," he smirked, eyeing the adorable way you were pouting up at him. "And besides, it's not like you don't tease me back." "You think I tease you?," you scoffed in disbelief, smiling with a dumbfounded look on your face. "You haven't seen nothin' yet then.” "Haven't I?," he said in a challenging tone, obviously excited by the fact that you seemed geared up to outdo him. Yuta loved it when you could knock him down a few pegs, call him a masochist, but he loved seeing you fired up to beat him at something. "What do you think you’re going to do exactly?” You feigned innocence, avoiding his gaze with disdain, "And now why would I tell you? Who said I'm going to do anything at all. Jeez," you huffed dramatically retracing your steps to rejoin the rest of the staff in the break room, leaving Yuta with a smirk on his lips as he followed you with his hands in his pockets. But, boy, did you have something sneaky planned.

After finishing up their schedules in Japan, NCT and the rest of their staff returned to good 'ol Seoul, hardly given a break as they would be appearing an another variety show. Not only were you prolific in Japanese, but you were also working on your Chinese in order to help Winwin as best as you could. You knew that being able to speak numerous languages would certainly keep you in good standings with the manager and your boss, so you worked your hardest to study when you had the chance. While in this particular interview, Winwin was your primary concern when it came to translating what was being said, Yuta liked to pretend that his Korean really wasn't as good as it truly was. He might as well be fluent at this point, but he said he fibbed just because he wanted to sit closer to you. You'd promptly rolled your eyes, but let it slide just because you secretly thought it was cute. Your hand was scribbling words down quickly on your notepad as you did your best to keep Winwin up to date with what the hosts were saying, cursing how fast they were speaking. You leaned in towards him, whispering slowly into his ear as he nodded along with your words, giggling sweetly at the jokes that had already been said. You grinned at his cuteness, showing him your notepad that you had scribbled down a few easy characters for him to read, his finger following your writing carefully. On the other side of you, Yuta was practically radiating jealousy, even though he definitely knew you loved Winwin and the rest of the boys like brothers, he still was going to act pouty just because he could. If the cameras weren't rolling, you would have smacked him in the back of the head with your notepad by now, knock some sense into his thick skull. You suddenly felt a devious idea pop into your own head, a small smile spreading across your face as Doyoung began to tell a funny story to the MCs, the perfect distraction. While Winwin began to doze off, you took your chance to lean in towards Yuta, the cameras unable to catch your breasts pressing into his back as you felt him stiffen from the sudden contact. You scribbled absentmindedly on your notepad, leaning over his shoulder so your lips were almost close enough to brush his ear, whining softly, "Baby." It absolutely drove him bonkers when you acted whiny with him, his pants tightening almost instantly at the tone in your voice. He couldn't even do anything, he had to just keep on smiling pleasantly for the camera as you smirked to yourself, completely over the moon with how much power you had. Still pretending to translate for him, you whimpered gently, "Last night I had a dream about you, it was so good." He shifted in his seat, a shaky breath escaping your lips as you absentmindedly gestured for him to read your notepad, which had nothing but meaningless scribbles on it. He nodded at your writing, sneaking a glance at you out of the corner of his eyes as he whispered softly, "And?" "Well," you answered coyly, glancing up toward Doyoung to make it seem like you were listening to him before looking back down to write again. "We were in my car again, and I was on top of you, grinding against your thigh. I was so wet, Yuta, that your jeans were soaked all the way through from rubbing my bare pussy on you." His breath caught in his throat, his hands coming to fold in his lap to cover the very obvious erection that he tried to hide by crossing his legs, "Stop it." You couldn't though, he was finally getting a taste of his own medicine, constantly embarrassing you in situations like this in public. You bit your lip and pressed your legs together as your own words began to turn you on, "And then, you flexed your thigh just so, and," you shuddered as you met his eyes for the first time, seeing the deep lust and anger in his brown orbs. "I came so fucking hard all over you. I ruined your favorite pair of jeans." Yuta pressed his lips together as he swallowed thickly, turning back toward the audience with his usual bright smile as the show began to wrap up. The members said their goodbyes as per usual, and you slipped out before anyone had the chance to notice, darting for the staff room and closing the door breathlessly. You'd never in your life seen Yuta look so angry before, and deep down, it made your belly flip flop with anticipation. What would he say? Is he looking for you right now? Your questions were promptly answered when the door to the staff room was ripped open, practically falling off the hinges as Yuta slammed it shut and locked it. His brows were furrowed and his mouth was set into a frown, as he bit his words out, "So that was it, huh?" "What was what?," you smiled pleasantly, struggling to keep your emotions neutral as Yuta paced towards you, flinching as he did so. He saw that look of panic on your face, and his own frown slid off, being replaced by a softly annoyed look, "Don't play dumb, sweetheart, I know you're smart." You knew you were getting a bit too close to comfort with teasing Yuta, but you couldn't help yourself as you folded your hands neatly behind you, rocking on your heels, "Oh, that. I was just having a little fun-" One of your hands was gripped by the wrist and ripped out from behind you, Yuta placing it deftly on the still growing bulge in his rather tight pants, seething, "There's nothing little about this. Understand?" You nodded, gulping as you felt him twitch against your palm, your eyes unable to meet his as you looked away with a blush. He smirked, taking your hand off of him, "Good. Now go be a good girl and wait for me in your car outside of the dorms. Keep your lights off." Nodding meekly, you smiled secretly to yourself when he bent down to kiss your cheek chastely before he left you alone once again. You were quick to gather all your things, saying good night to the boys' manager and your other friends on the staff, turning down their offers to go grab late night dinner with little lies. Your body practically vibrated with anticipation when you slid into your car, hands gripping the steering wheel tight as you sped off towards the boys' secret dorm location. Technically, not even you were supposed to know where they lived, but Yuta had let it slip months ago when he told you he would be alone in the dorm for a few hours. You could never ever let it be known to any of the other staff, and especially your manager, that you frequented NCT's dorm on a weekly occasion. You parked across and down a ways from the quiet apartment building that SM owned parts off in order to house their artists, careful to turn off your car and switch the lights off as you waited impatiently for Yuta to arrive. You smoothed down the little skirt you were wearing and brushed your hair with a comb you found in the glove box, on edge as you attempted to make yourself presentable. Even after dating Yuta for quite some time, you still felt self conscious whenever you went to meet him, keen on looking nice enough to look at though you actually belonged with him. Yuta was always shining and gorgeous, and you felt like just a dim little glow beside his radiance, even when he whispered how beautiful you were to him. Caught in your musings, you almost didn't see a dark and familiar figure approaching your vehicle, which was parked as far from the road as can be, tucked into a shadowy little corner that almost concealed it from sight completely. Yuta tapped on the window before pulling the door open, his hands immediately coming in contact with your hips as he slammed it shut and pushed you up against your car. His mouth was feverish against yours, nipping and pulling at your bottom lip with his teeth as you released a breathy moan. His hips pinned you on the cold metal car door, the slightest movement of them eliciting a quiet whimper and earning your the softest of groans whispered in your hair. While he abused your neck with marks and sucks, you finally found your words, "Yuta, someone will see." You gasped when he pressed a hard thigh between your legs, lifting you up so that you felt the loveliest of friction on your clit whenever you moved. "I don't care," he murmured simply, his tone curt and impatient as he moved you around to the hood of your car. "I'm going to fuck you right up against your car, where everyone can see how well you take my cock." You moaned at his words as he laid you down on the hood, his hands working quickly to slip your panties down your legs and into the back pocket of his jeans. He always stole your panties, practically having your entire underwear drawer at this point. He frowned and considered how loud your breathy pants were, his hand reaching behind him to grab your panties out of his pocket, "On second thought, you'll be screaming as I fuck you and we can't have someone interrupting us." You didn't understand what he meant until your mouth was suddenly stuffed with your essence soaked panties, gagging slightly as he shoved them in deep. He smiled at the glints of tears shining in your eyes, spreading your legs wide and placing your thighs over his shoulders as he pushed your skirt up to reveal your dripping center. He blew cold air onto your folds, making your thighs shake as he simpered, "Baby girl when will you learn? You can't beat me at my own game." You silently begged for his mouth with your eyes, breathing out of your nose hard as he considered you with an amused expression. "What do you want?" You, you thought with desperation, but instead, you shifted your hips toward him with a whimper, indicating clearly what you wanted him to do. Yuta did this often, making you beg and cry for him, only to offer you more questions and teasing, driving you insane until the only thing that mattered was him and his gorgeous mouth and tongue tasting your pussy. He nosed along your inner thigh, looking thoughtful as he softly bit down on the sensitive skin, bruising like a peach even from the tiniest of nips, "Now, after that little stunt of yours at the tv station, you really think I should give you what you want?" You could only sob and nod your head as the panties in your mouth was soaked with your saliva, his eyes tracing the spit that ran down your chin with a smirk. You were already looking so fucked and he hadn't even touched you yet. He gave you a little respite by tracing your clit with the tip of his tongue slowly before pulling back, "Do you deserve to come, sweetheart?" You gave a louder cry and nodded again vigorously, frustrated from the way the makeshift gag obstructed your words. You thought he would tease you some more, but was surprised when his mouth was suddenly sucking harshly against your lower lips, making your throw your head back against the hood of your car with a thud. Muffled moans poured from your mouth as Yuta sucked and tongued your pussy, the relief of his touch making your back arch off the car as his hands struggled to press your hips back down. You shook in his grip, locking your ankles around his head as you urged his tongue deeper inside of you, the groans spilling from his throat creating the best of vibrations all down your body. One of his hands left your hip and fingers soon joined his mouth as he immediately shoved two of his digits deep into your pussy. You screamed from his relentless thrusting, his mouth attached solely to your sensitive bundle of nerves as his fingers scissored and curled inside of you brutally. The pit of your stomach felt so tight, your walls flexing on their own accord as you suddenly came hard, your thighs trembling and twitching around his head as he continued to pleasure you at a breakneck pace. You breathed hard through your nostrils, shoulder blades digging into the metal of the hood as Yuta continued to push and push you, his voice unsteady from how fast his fingers were thrusting into you, "Are you coming for me, sweetheart? You're a fucking mess underneath me right now, aren't you?" Your body suddenly shuddered, eyes going wide as a second orgasm washed over you, but the feeling was more intense and different as you squirted around Yuta's fingers. Your face turned red as you whimpered pitifully, hearing the splashing of your release against the hood of the car like raindrops as it dripped down to the ground. With your chest heaving, you looked up at Yuta with quivering pupils, a satisfied expression on his face as he watched you continue to spray your release when he pulled his fingers out, "Oh, kitten, you look so fucking good when you squirt for me. You groaned at his words, eyes holding with lust as he began to unbuckle his belt and shove his pants down, pulling his hard member out and teasing the inside of your thighs with it. You were hypnotized watching him collect your release with the tip of his cock, but was startled out of your reverie when a car horn honked. Your head whipped toward the road, a panicked look on your face as your eyes darted between the street and Yuta, who looked completely complacent and calm as he continued to tease your lips. He finally turned his gaze toward the car that drove by, leaning over your carefully and covering you with his frame protectively as he watched the vehicle pass with narrowed eyes, "What's wrong, _______? Scared of a little public humiliation?" When the car finally passed, Yuta wasted no time entering your finally with one hard thrust that shifted you up the hood, burying his cock all the way to hilt with a long, drawn out groan, "Fuck, you're still so tight." You squeaked at the sudden intrusion, your wrists pinned against the car with his hands as he began to rock in and out of you, the slickness of your walls making his thrusts feel luxuriously smooth. Yuta considered your panty-stuffed mouth for a moment before he reached in and pulled out the soaked undergarment, tossing it to the side carelessly before he dipped down to kiss you. Even though you jaw was sore from being pried open for so long, you still kissed him back with as much energy as you could muster, allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth while he continued to rut into you at a steady pace. Yuta's stamina was no joke, he could fuck you for an hour at a time if he really wanted to, his self control sharply honed. But due to your surroundings, he seemed to let go a little, his lips pulling away from yours with a small trail of spit as he panted. He picked up his pace making you dig your nails into his shoulders as he flicked his hips with newfound vigor and harshness. His belt jingled with each thrust and your body shifted up the hood and back down with each push and pull of his hands and hips, making your eyes squeeze shut when his movements became frantic. You let your ears soak in his grunts, fingers digging into his skin until yor knuckles turned white as he suddenly stiffened and stilled, pulling out quickly to spray his cum between your thighs onto the shining metal of your car. He came silently, the only indicating his release was the heaving of his chest and the sound of his heavy breathing. A few moments after his release, Yuta leaned up and captured your lips, his tenderness surprising you as he lifted you off the car, careful of the mess sprayed all over your hood. He set you down gently before tucking himself back inside of his pants neatly with one of his signature grins, suddenly back to his normal self as he fixed your skirt and patted it down. He lifted the corner of his shirt and wiped the spit from your chin and mouth as he tsked thoughtfully, "Look at you..." You smiled shyly up at him through your lashes and he couldn't help but pull you into his arms and spin you around, your voice muffled in his shirt, "You know, maybe you could lay off the teasing just a little." "Maybe," he smirked, cheekily squeezing your ass underneath your skirt as he pressed his forehead to yours. "But you'll probably miss it." "Oh, trust me," you scoffed, rolling your eyes at his cockiness. "I won't." Turns out, you did. One point for Yuta.

2K notes · View notes

mayaparkerwrites · 6 years

Text

Literally the Most Suspicious Thing Ever//Maya & Fane

While at the Yule Ball Maya and Fane discuss their mutual suspicion of literally everything about the Triwizard Tournament.

@fanesavin

Fane had spent most of the evening circulating between groups of people, for once not feeling half so ignored as he had done in his more recent years of Hogwarts. Quidditch had brought about a nice change and certainly brought some popularity to him, but for the most part even now he still preferred to keep to himself. The one unfortunate thing he found with the teaching curriculum at Hogwarts was their restriction on teaching what most considered 'Dark Arts'. How could you truly defend yourself against it without a working understanding of the thing you were attempting to defend against? Explaining why he was currently in conversation with a few of his former classmates from Durmstrang pointedly ignoring the interested looks of Igor Karkaroff who had spent most of the evening attempting to get his attention. Stepping away to get a drink he watched the various quadwizard champions, "I still think there's something off about Potter being selected" he muttered to no one in particular, not realising there was somebody stood nearby.

Maya had lied about seeing her date. He'd bailed on her it seemed. She could worry about that tomorrow. As she walked she observed the room, smiling to herself as she saw the effects of her prank taking hold. Just a little bit so far here and there. She stood near a column watching the people around her dance and chat. She didn't feel left out at all. In large group settings like this she generally preferred to observe rather than be directly involved. She heard Fane's voice and had to laugh. "Well, obviously. I mean that's clear as the beak on a hippogriff to anyone who saw his face when his name was called."

Fane glanced aside when he realised someone had overheard his muttered comment both surprised and not that Maya was still lurking about in the shadows. "Seems odd that someone could get past the spells guarding the cup," he didn't continue to look at Maya as she confirmed that she too thought it was a strange occurrence instead his eyes sought out the various figures on the room he had reasonable cause to question and doubt; Karkaroff, Moody and Snape being a few. "What's your thoughts about how it happened?" suffice to say Fane had his own opinions, especially after the events of the Quidditch World Cup along with his own family associations.

Maya knew that Fane probably hadn't expected anyone to reply to him. She had her own suspicions though and wouldn't mind someone to talk it out with. "I mean I'm assuming its a You Know Who based plan," she replied in a low voice. Being in Slytherin she knew both of Karkaroff and Snape's former Death Eater connections. She knew that Karkaroff had named names under pressure after the first war. As far as Snape she would be very surprised to learn that Dumbledore had hired a Death Eater who hadn't renounced the Dark Lord. "Someone made the cup think there were four schools I suppose," she replied, "No way that kind of charm could be done by a student."

While he wasn't in Slytherin, it didn't mean news didn't get around. There were rumours circulating and Fane had seen his mother's reaction to the display put on at the World Cup and while none of his siblings that he knew had been a part of it... It didn't rule out the potential fact that they might one day be. The fact that one day in the not so distant future, his own choice about such matters would be taken from his grasp. But tonight he'd been hoping to avoid such contemplation and the anxiety inducing fear that sat low in his stomach at the thought of what he might be forced to do for a family that lately... He wasn't feeling all too close to. But for now those thoughts were set aside, because there was nothing he could say that anyone would pay any attention to. After all, who was he but yet another student? A Dark wizarding prodigy at that, he'd heard the whispers. But hearing Maya state what she thought so clearly, it very nearly earned a look of surprise from him. "That's a tall tale to try and sell, makes sense though but also raises the question of who would be capable of doing something like that and getting away with it?"

Maya probably shouldn't speak so plainly about her suspicions. However she was of the opinion that hiding things only gave them power. If it didn't freak people out she'd just call him Voldemort and be done with it. It occasionally caused her problems within her house, but she figured she didn't want to be friends with anyone who waffled on the whole Death Eater issue. "Taller than the Philosopher's Stone? Or the Chamber of Secrets? Than Sirius Black? Is it really a taller tale than an infant defeating He Who Must Not Be Named?" she asked. They were wizards and witches after all. The ceiling above them changed to reflect the sky and every day they learned new spells and potions. Very few things were really all that far fetched. "Probably one of the professors," she replied, "Seeing as they would have to be remarkably powerful and also have access to the Cup without arousing suspicion. And you could pretty easily eliminate some of them. McGonagall and Hagrid obviously." She paused considering, "I'd want to know who's idea it was to bring back the tournament at all."

Everything Maya had to say was something he'd considered at some point already, he'd tried broaching the subject with Faye. Unfortunately, she seemed to be of the mindset like most that acting like none of this had happened would make it all apparently vanish into thin air. Leaving him with little option or anyone really to talk to plainly despite his blazing concerns about the ongoing events. "Hey, I didn't say you needed to convince me it's all of them out there" Fane nodded to the crowds gathered infront of them "most people I try to speak to about it prefer to stay in denial than even acknowledge the potential truth hanging over their heads." Raising a hand he scratched his ear with a slight sigh, "that hardly narrows it down much... Though there are a few that stand out as potential considerations..." his eyes drifted once more to Moody, brow pinching as he studied him from the shadows where he stood with Maya currently. "I still think something's off with that Auror... I get they say he's off his nut anyways but something about him just... It just rubs me the wrong way and I can't put my finger on why... He's a good teacher, almost feels too good if that makes any sort of sense?" It probably didn't, but finally having someone listen without scoffing or rolling their eyes at him... It almost felt, nice in a way.

Maya laughed, "Yeah, this may come as a shock, but its not a popular topic in the Slytherin common room either." She had to pause and roll her eyes, "Unless of course you're like pumped about it, which I'm decidedly not." Her loud mouth was going to get her into trouble one of these days, but she was prepared for that. She'd made a special effort to make friend's outside of her own house this year for that very reason. After the events of at the World Cup a blood traitor like her fit in less and less everyday in Slytherin. "A good teacher?" she asked almost scoffing, "I wouldn't call showing a bunch of fourth year Gryffindors the Unforgivable Curses being good at your job. Especially when that Neville Longbottom's year." The more she thought about the more she found herself maybe agreeing with him. She'd chalked up Moody's strangness to his being a veteran of the first war, but maybe something else was going on. "He is the only new addition to the staff this year," she added, almost musing over the fact.

Fane let his shoulders rise a fall a little. "People are stupid. They'll believe a lie either because they'd rather believe the lie is true, or because they're just too afraid of the actual truth they're trying to ignore... Or a combination of both-- usually it's a combination of both." At least, this was what Fane had come to learn during his time around most Wizarding families besides his own. "We were all raised on the stories of the First War-- the amount of death and destruction people suffered, it's no wonder people don't want to put stock in this and put it all down to tall tales." But talk turned to Moody, and while Fane didn't technically agree with his teaching practises there was a certain degree of merit in them he could see. "I'm not saying I agree with everything he does, but-- How are we truly meant to understand the way to stop these sorts of magic if we don't understand how they truly function?" But that was neither here nor there, all Fane knew was that something about their current teacher left him feeling uneasy. "It just seems too coincidental... But no one gives a toss what I have to say, they all think I'm some Death Eater wannabe who obviously wants the Auror gone for my own gain..." his features twisted into something of a slight grimace with the words.

Maya had actually not been raised on stories of the First War. She'd lost both of her parents at a young age and grown up in an orphanage. Sometimes she thought that, and a Muggle education for the first six years of schooling, helped her see things more clearly than her housemates who were blinded by tradition and a one sided version of history. "Reminds me of the Muggle World Wars," she replied simply. Maya shrugged, "Maybe, but I don't think that's a lesson for forth years, sixth or seventh maybe." She nodded when Fane said that it all seemed too coincidental. Something about it felt off to her too. She just wasn't sure exactly what. She had to laugh when he mentioned people thinking he was a Death Eater wannabe. She knew the feeling all too well. Of course she'd heard the rumors about Fane's family, especially after he was sorted into Ravenclaw and not Slytherin. Those weren't rumors Maya put much stock in though. "I didn't know you were Draco," she said in a light teasing tone.

All he had known his entire life was the very privileged life within the Wizarding World he'd been raised with, three elder siblings all of whom had graduated Durmstrang, himself the first to not complete an entire education there, his younger brother who had started just this year and been sorted into Slytherin and finally a younger sister several years down the line yet to even begin her wizarding education. His father had always been relatively neutral on the matter of Muggles, in fact, he had been rather fascinated with them. It was only after his disappearance in Fane's first year that the tone in his household took a turn towards the more bias end of the spectrum under his mother's guidance. She did it out of a twisted sort of love, a wish to protect her children from the horrors that she believed Muggles would bring down upon them one day. Unfortunately, Fane's association had led to him developing a rather... different opinion to that his mother tried to enforce; one that would have major ramifications that very next year. But Fane never did put any sort of stock in Sybil Trelawney's predictions of misery and pain that were set out in his future. Perhaps he would have if he knew what was yet to come. "A few of my housemates taught me about those," Fane had roped in a few of his muggle-educated housemates to teach him what they had been doing prior to starting magic curious to learn beyond the very blinkered education he'd been given up until this point in time. The joke about Draco though brought a smile back to his features which had grown dour due to the topic of conversation. "Oh yeah-- Though I have yet to coin some phrase that everyone knows me for."

Maya had her own opinions on the separation of muggles and wizards. She understood the history of course, the murders of thousands during the Spanish Inquisition and the Salem Witch Trials as well as other events. Hiding and never learning from each other didn't seem like the answer to her. It let people like Voldemort do what he had done. They could learn from each other. Maya could only imagine what might be accomplished with the marriage of magic and technology. No one had asked her though. "Yeah, its the same sort of thing. Cowering because they don't want to go through it again, but it just makes it worse," she replied. She smiled again when he mentioned having yet to coin a phrase. "Well, to be fair he technically has two," she said. Maya then did a perfect imitation, "Just wait until my father hears about this. And of course Potter." Whenever something went wrong there was a group of Slytherins who would always mutter Potter. When Draco learned of it he had threatened to tell his father which had only earned laughter from the group. "But there's still time and plenty of phrases to choose from," Maya added.

Fane shared a similar viewpoint to Maya. Lately he’d taken up an interest in physics and science, and his mind wondered about the possible combinations that might come from a union of the two. It was something he explored a little in the free time he had and wasn’t off doing other things. “That’s what I think but it doesn’t seem to be the belief of many others.” Maya’s interpretation though made him chuckle, “that’s pretty good, sounds like you hear it a lot... And you’re right though finding something half so unique as that will be a challenge.” But Fane couldn't help but look back at the crowds of people a frown just touching his features "do you get a bad feeling about all this too?"

"Guess we just have to plan as best we can," Maya replied with a shrug, There wasn't much else they could do. And really at the end of it the fate of the world wouldn't come down to either of them. "Oh I'm sure you could come up with something. Ravenclaws are supposed to be witty, right?" she teased. Her gaze followed his over the crowd of people. She thought of the stories of the First War and of the events of the World Cup. Standing there she couldn't help but wonder how many of them would still be here in a few years. "Yeah, I've got a bad feeling about it," she said, no longer smiling, "But its not as if anyone would listen to me about it. I'm just some Slytherin with a big mouth and no history."

"How can you really plan for anything like that though?" especially when you were part of such a minority. "Here's hoping someone's around to coin something I say when it does happen to witty then," but his attention was still lingering on their former topic of conversation. Despite the crowds of students Fane could pick out Faye amongst the crowds, with a few of their other friends and his eyes trailed her quietly. "It's frustrating, but I guess the only thing we can do is try and stay vigilant right? I've been trying to see if I'm right but... I haven't had much luck."

"Oh I'm one hundred percent certain that Draco plans out at least half of what he says in front of a mirror," she replied. Its probably unwise to mock Draco so openly, especially when they're in the same house. But how is she's supposed to help it when he's such a bloody wanker. She laughed, "I can cheers to that." She lifts her glass in a mock salute. As they returned to what might really be happening around them Maya glanced around her to make sure no one was within earshot. She was generally aware of who was around them and might be listening in, but it seemed a good time to make extra sure. "There's definitely something about to happen. There's talk in Slytherin, people who's families were Death Eaters. I'd love to believe that its just kids puffing out their chests, but with everything that's happened the last four years? You'd be stupid to call it just coincidences."

"That's both funny and hardly surprising considering how full of himself he is," Fane reserved very little consideration for their more pretentious peers. They deserved what they got because more often than not they brought it upon themselves. With the exception of Faye, Fane tended to keep his thoughts and opinions to himself. Not even his cousin Dani heard his concerns regarding their own family's trajectory since his father's disappearance. But hearing Maya mention there was something coming made him frown a little "anything in particular that stands out?"

Maya shook her head. "No, I don't think any of them really know anything," she replied. She shook her head again. "Look, its my house and yeah a lot of them can be stuck up gits, but its nowhere near all of them. And for those of them that are they're just kids too, parroting whatever nonsense their parents told them about blood purity and their family's inherent superiority. Shunning the whole house for a couple of bad eggs doesn't solve anything." Maya sighed, realizing that she'd gotten off topic. Sort of. The next few years were going to be tumultuous for all of them. She couldn't guess at what it might bring, but she knew that in her bones. She just hoped that her classmates didn't end up on the wrong side of history. "Death Eaters are meeting up again, in secret. I don't know if they even know what it is, but they have to think its something to do what they did at the World Cup."

Fane looked aside at Maya, wondering if he'd given her the wrong impression with his words. "I'm not trying to say that it's all of them, I know it isn't all of them... You aren't the only house that has Purebloods in it" sure, Slytherin had the majority but it didn't mean there weren't people in other houses who also shared these same beliefs. Tipping his chin down slightly he mulled over Maya's words, his mind distracted from the occurrences around them whilst simultaneously aware of every passerby. "I've heard bits and pieces but nothing substantial myself... There's mutterings but... I don't see how he can come back" this wasn't Fane saying he couldn't just that no one had really encountered the sort of magic powerful enough to even manage that sort of reincarnation.

Maya shook her head, "Sorry, I didn't mean to suggest you were. I just..." She sighed. "It's worse this year. After the World Cup, coming back it feels like half the castle suspects all of us of being future Death Eaters. Even with this stupid Tournament that's supposed to bring us together." Considering the rumors of his family it was probably a feeling that Fane knew. She thought for a moment, trying to compose her thoughts into something that made sense to someone other than her. "It feels like its pushing some of my housemates over the edge. And sometimes it feels like all I can do is watch it happen. It feels like someday I'm going to be facing them across a battlefield and I don't know how to do that." She laughed, self-deprecating. "Because that's what this whole thing should be about, me." With another sigh, she rolled her eyes at herself. "Anyway I don't know either, but he survived enough to latch onto Quirrell. Maybe its just a matter of getting his own body, maybe something Frankenstein style."

Fane raised a hand slightly waving off her explanation “don’t worry-- I get it.” And he did, his first year had been rougher than most considering the whole Chamber of Secrets ordeal leaving him questioning his sanity when he could hear voices in the walls. “The World Cup was... quite a statement I have to admit” and not in a good way, it had set everyone on edge ever since. But Fane’s arms tucked around himself slightly as he propped up against a pillar listening to what Maya tried to explain and Fane couldn’t help but think of his younger brother. “How’s Erich doing?” Fane questioned of his younger brother, “I don’t really see him at all but... I guess I worry a bit” he wasn’t very close to the boy, finding him more of an irksome attention-seeking nuissance than anything else but it didn’t stop Fane wondering about Maya’s words in application to his younger sibling. Erich always had been a mummy’s boy... If that led to him following... Fane merely frowned at the thought. “Would any of us truly know how to do that without feeling some reservation?” During his time at Durmstrang, Fane knew they would have dabbled in Necromancy when he was older and the topic was a point of interest for him simply out of curiosity’s sake. “Whatever the case, it does’t bode well...”

Maya looked away at the mention of Fane's younger brother. She wished that she could just reassure him, say that there was no reason whatsoever to worry, but the truth was that she wasn't sure. "I don't know him that well," she replied because it was technically true, "I can keep an eye on him though." While it sounded like she was offering even if Fane refused she would probably do it anyway. "No, I guess we wouldn't," she agreed, "And if we did that's probably not a very good sign either." It was a depressing thing to think about and the weight of the future felt like it had settled squarely on her shoulders. It wasn't much use worrying, but Maya couldn't seem to help herself. "What do you say, I'll bet you 20 Sickles this is totally a You Know Who plot," she said because the way she saw it they could either laugh or cry about the future. And laughing might not fix things, but it might make them easier.

The fact she looked away didn't bode well, and Fane couldn't help but wonder if his concerns were rightly justified. "Right--" Fane wouldn't put another person out like that to ask them to look after his siblings, unfortunately Erich had been well taught by their mother. He made a slight sound to their talk of ending up on either sides of the war, but a small smile edged its way onto his features as she made the bet "you know what? I'll take you up on that... Speaking of plots, I feel like we'd be good team to theorise about conspiracies that might be occurring around the castle. Don't you think? Can't say I hear anyone else speaking up about these things..."

Maya glanced back up at Fane. She made a note to check in with Erich, whether or not Fane really wanted her to. If Fane could turn out alright she had to believe there was hope. It might naive, but she always had to believe there was hope. Otherwise what the fuck was the point? She smiled back when he took her bet. Pausing though she asked, "Wait, except we agree it is, so then who would get the money when I'm right?" It didn't really matter, but she could use 20 sickles. Her smile widened at the offer of someone to discuss the things that happened which no one wanted to talk about. "I already have a tinfoil hat in your size," Maya replied.

#[fane savin]#[maya parker]#hp!au #//figured it was about time to consolidate this somewhere #brotp: turtle friends

4 notes · View notes

majiniesthings · 7 years

Text

Remember (that night)

Also on AO3.

They had shared lingering glances, seemingly accidental touches and just a little more closeness than was strictly usual between good friends from the very beginning. John remembered being intrigued from the moment the scrawny man with the loud voice had first opened his mouth (“if you stand for nothing, Burr, what will you fall for?”) and he'd felt the other's dark, expressive eyes on him even before that.

Alexander had leaned on him for support later that evening, cackling with alcohol-induced mirth, shoulders shaking with it when John wrapped an arm around them to steady him. Alexander had quieted, then, head falling back onto John's shoulder as he stared up at him and rendered him unable to look away.

The moment had been broken by Hercules stumbling against them and spilling half of his drink, but it hadn't been the first nor the last one that evening.

John remembered all these occasions with crystalline clarity. He knew the way Alexander could talk up a storm, dark eyes blazing and his hands flying, fluttering around him, never still, never stopping, and he knew the way the same Alexander went silent and eerily motionless when there was thunder rumbling above their heads and rain beating down onto their tent.

He remembered holding Alexander close that night, letting the smaller man curl into him and cling to John while he shook and flinched at every crack of thunder. He'd murmured meaningless words into Alexander's hair, nothing worth repeating but enough to serve as a grounding presence until Alex, exhausted to the point that his shivering had subsided to the occasional, weak shudder, had slipped into an uneasy sleep.

John remembered the first time Alexander had kissed him, quick and passionate in the spur of the moment like so many things he did, and he remembered the slightly wide-eyed, nervous look Alex had given him afterwards before John had leaned in to press his lips to the other man's again, effectively cutting off any sort of justification or apology from being spoken out loud.

He remembered the nights they'd made love under the thin blankets in their tents, as quietly as they could to avoid the risk of getting caught, remembered Alexander's breathy whispers and his light, almost shy touches that grew more confident as time passed, remembered the way Alex' hair would tumble down to frame his face, the way his eyes grew even darker when John whispered his name back at him. It was hard to forget, really.

Although, John mused, it seemed it came to Alexander easier than to him, if the light in his eyes when he looked at Eliza was any indication. He had watched his lover twirl the Schuyler girl – a lovely thing, really – around the dance floor for as he could bear before he had slipped out onto a balcony while nobody was paying attention to him. There was a half-empty glass of some alcoholic beverage or the other dangling from his fingers as he leaned against the stone railing, staring up at the clear sky and reminiscing, trying not to think of the fact that Alexander was most likely having the time of his life inside the ballroom right now, with Eliza and his new-found step sisters, with his family.

Of course that meant a lot to him, John got that. He did. Truly. It was the first time Alex experienced a functioning family, what kind of person would John be to begrudge him that? No, he was going to get back in there and smile and be a good best man, a good best friend. In a minute. He merely needed a moment to compose himself.

Of course, things could never be that easy, could they?

The muffled sounds of music and chatter grew more pronounced for a moment when the door behind him opened and John turned, a smile plastered onto his face. It grew more genuine when he saw who had joined him outside.

“Lafayette,” he greeted quietly and received a striking smile from the Frenchman in return.

“Mon ami,” came the warm answer. “What brings you out 'ere all by yourself?”

John looked down at his drink, swirled it around in its glass. “I just needed some air,” he muttered and looked up to give Lafayette a smile that was hopefully convincing. Concerned dark eyes met his and he immediately knew he had not fooled his friend.

“This does not mean he will stop holding you dear,” Lafayette said.

John averted his gaze to fix it on his drink again so he wouldn't give his emotions away in his expression. “Of course,” he agreed half-heartedly. “We're his friends, he's still gonna like us.”

“Oh, I am not talking about us, mon cher,” the taller man responded gently. “I am talking about you.” A little alarmed, John glanced up again – they hadn't told anyone about their involvement, not even Hercules and Lafayette. It had seemed too risky, not knowing how they would react. But whatever reaction he had feared might come, all he got now was the knowing, compassionate look in the Frenchman's eyes. “It's alright,” he added, and John felt long pent-up tension drain from his shoulders at the words.

“Thank you,” he whispered hoarsely.

Lafayette wrapped an arm around his shoulders in response, pulling John against his side in a firm, comforting half-hug. “Will you come back inside with me?” he asked and John, tucked against his side, glanced at the doors, the shapes of people he could make out by their shadows.

“Why don't you go ahead,” he replied after a moment of hesitation. “I'll be there in a few minutes.” As an afterthought, he tacked on: “I'll be fine.”

For that, he received a critical look from Lafayette, but then he patted John's shoulder gently. “I see,” he said. “Then I shall see you later, mon ami.”

“Sure thing,” John answered with a smile that didn't feel quite as forced as before. He raised his glass in a small toast and his smile was returned before his friend slipped back inside, probably aware that pressing John for answers wasn't going to get him anywhere.

With a sigh, he turned his back to the door once again and sipped on his drink. He didn't feel like going inside just yet.

He wasn't sure if that made him a horrible person, but seeing Alexander so happy with Eliza was hard to bear, especially with the letters in mind that were safely tucked away with his belongings. Had Alex sent the same carefully crafted words to Eliza?

My dear Laurens... my dear Eliza?

The door behind him opened again, light and music and laughter spilling out onto the balcony before it clicked shut again.

“Laf, I told you I'd be there in a minute. Go find yourself a petite mademoiselle or something.” He didn't look up when the other man leaned against the railing beside him.

“Okay, first of all, your French is atrocious.”

John jumped and turned. “Alex! I was just catching some air, I was about to head back inside, I swear, I just –”

“Hey.” Alexander slid a warm hand over John's chilled one resting on the cold stone railing. “It's okay.”

John smiled wryly. Everybody seemed so intent on telling him that. “Of course,” he replied hollowly. “I... you're good together, I've seen the way you look at her, it's – you love her.” He had to force the last three words past a suddenly tight throat and Alexander's hand tightened on his.

“That doesn't mean that I don't –” he began and cut himself off just as quickly. He was better with those things in his letters, John thought. He wasn't sure how to feel about that.

“It's okay,” he echoed the other man's earlier words. Despite that, he felt a sharp sting of disappointment when Alexander's hand left his. Usually, he was more stubborn than that.

Then, there was an insistent tug at his shoulder. He let himself be turned around after a moment, leaned back against the railing to stare at Alex without looking confused or longing. The shorter man met his eyes firmly and took two steps backwards into the middle of the balcony before he extended a hand toward John.

“May I have this dance?”

Large, dark eyes were fixed on John, who sputtered. “Stop that, Alexander, you're being silly.” He held his drink in front of himself defensively.

“I'm not,” Alexander insisted. “Come on, Laurens, dance with me.”

John was tempted, but shook his head. One of them had to keep a level head after all. “We can't –”

Brash as ever, Alex stepped in, reached out to pluck the glass from John's loose grip and set it down to precariously balance on the railing behind John before he took both of his hands in his own to pull him with him as he stepped backwards again.

“Alexander, someone is gonna see, you're going to –”

“Talk less, dance more,” Alex cut him off and John scowled.

“Don't Burr me, seriously, you of all people...”

While he was busy protesting, Alexander tugged one of John's hands to rest on his waist and clasped the other with his own. John sighed in defeat when his lover took a step back, vaguely in tact with the music they could hear playing softly from inside.

John went along stiffly for a few seconds, then closed his eyes in defeat and drew Alex closer. He took the lead, keeping their pace slow, small steps moving them around the balcony, his cold hands regaining some warmth from Alexander's body heat.

For a few minutes, he could pretend the muffled music from the inside was playing just for them, Alexander and him under the clear, if cold sky. Their breaths came out in small, white clouds that dissipated into the air between them like so many unspoken words – regrets, promises, apologies, confessions. So many things they'd written in letters received on lonely nights, things they'd never said but knew all too well nonetheless. Things that didn't need to be said, things that perhaps should not be said.

For a few minutes, John got to bask in those things, got to cradle Alexander close and have him move with him, pressing close against the chill.

Eventually, however, the waltz that had been playing faded away and John reluctantly came to a halt. He refused to let go just yet, pressed his lips to Alexander's hair and heaved one, two shuddering breaths while he blinked rapidly against the tears blurring his vision. He was not going to cry on his best friend's wedding night.

Alexander squeezed his hand and John exhaled with a shiver before he stepped back to meet the other man's gaze. Alexander's eyes were large and dark and vulnerable, reminding John that this wasn't as one-sided as his mind would have him believe; with a bitter-sweet twist in his chest, he pressed a kiss to the other man's forehead and watched Alexander's eyes flutter shut, a shaky, uncharacteristically quiet sigh on his lips.

For once, he didn't have anything clever to say. Instead, he squeezed John's fingers gently and asked: “Will you come back inside with me?”

“Yeah,” John murmured, almost a whisper, and he knew he was going to remember this, too, their shared minutes in the cold outside the ballroom, for a long time yet.

Alexander's “thanks” drifted around them in a cloud of white, frozen breath and John let himself be tugged along by his hand, back toward the door that led toward the ballroom.

When they stepped over the threshold, music and chatter suddenly at full volume again, Alexander's fingers slipped away from his and John thought he might remember the feeling of something colder than the winter air settling around his heart and squeezing for even longer.

#lams #hamilton #alexander hamilton #john laurens #marquis de lafayette #am i officially hamiltrash now?#i meant to write fluff and this happened #i'm sorry #angst #bit of fluff #my writing #doodles #sketches

61 notes · View notes

alwaysaprilia · 7 years

Text

Captain Swan AU Prompt Series No. 5 (D)

No.1: Alphabet City

No.2: Of Singing and Streaking

No.3: Lie to Me (I’ll lie to you, too)

No.4: Like Toy Soldiers

No. 5 (A): We’re Going Down Swinging Part 1

No. 5 (B): We’re Going Down Swinging Part 2

No. 6: Bend, and Don’t Break

No. 7 (A): Speak Now Part 1

No. 7 (B): Speak Now Part 2

No. 5 ( C ) We’re Going Down Swinging Part 3

No. 4: Like Toy Soldiers Part 2

No. 8 (A) It’s Always Been You (And You Should Know That)

No. 9: The Art of Remembering

No. 10 For Your Consideration

No. 8 (B) It’s Always Been you (And You Should Know That)

We’re Going Down Swinging- Part 4

Present day

Something has shifted at camp, and it takes no special powers to see it. As the summer gets hotter, the anger and tension between Killian and Emma cools. It starts slowly, and simply-

(-working together to square away the boats and ropes after sailing lessons, rather than leaving their fellow counselor with all the work in a bid to get as much distance between them as possible. Though silence still reigns between them, it's an easier one, more peaceful, a sharp contrast to the tense, suffocating version from the beginning of camp.

-Killian saving a grilled cheese from the breakfast rush because Will and Viktor are bottomless pits and Emma, also a bottomless pit, always gets hangry and irritable if she doesn't have a mid-morning snack. He says it's to keep her from annoying him. She says nothing except rumble her thanks as she eats, smiling sheepishly at him between giant bites when he is no longer looking.

-Emma stopping by his afternoon water-skiing lesson, and dropping off a freshly chilled water bottle because he's always been terrible about drinking enough, along with a tube of sunscreen, because he's even worse at that. She says it’s to keep him from bitching and moaning about his sunburn during the campfire at night. He says nothing, save smirk and toast to her retreating back as she stalks away.

-they arrive at meals together sometimes, and then more times, until they arrive together more often than not. They still do not sit by each other, but no one misses how the distance between them at the table gets smaller and smaller each time, and how conversation, previously avoided like the plague, slowly starts to trickle through-)

-before progressing to a point that Ruby, observing Emma and Killian chivying their band of trouble makers into some semblance of order, working in tandem, never missing a beat, words, smiles and laughter flowing easily between them, comments on how it was almost like a blast to the past, a scene right out of high school. She's quickly shushed by Elsa, as if calling attention to the two might upset the delicate balance they have managed to strike, and perhaps such care is warranted. For all the improvement between Emma and Killian, the past and whatever happened between them is still soundly ignored, with all the characteristic determination that is both their hallmarks.

Mary Margaret sighs and murmurs that it can't be healthy, while David silently nods his agreement. Regina rolls her eyes and reiterates for maybe the thousandth time that it's high time the two grew up and got over whatever high school drama drove a wedge between them. Robin simply shakes his head at that statement, because he knows as well as she does that asking Emma and Killian to get over each other is akin to asking someone to move an ocean. Viktor and Will simply up the stakes in their betting pool, because they know the truth as well as everyone else does-something big is going to happen soon. Whether it's good or bad, that, no one can tell, but they all know it's coming, as sure as the sun rose and the moon waned.

...No one mentions the looming end of their time at camp.

********

When things come to a head, it happens in the most cliched way ever- a good deed that did, in fact, not go unpunished, an old injury aggravated, ending with Killian and Emma alone in an empty cabin, with the latter forcing the former to take his shirt off, spurring events that should have happened long ago to finally take place-but that's a little further ahead.

At present, it's Games Day, when the campers complete for glory in their own mini-version of the Olympics, and they are at the last event.

Killian is stationed at the climbing frame obstacle, near the top, ready to give a helping hand to the kids who need it. Grace is almost over, has one hand gripping the edge and is bringing her other up to join it-when she slips. Screams echo around the course, but Killian throws himself over the edge, and manages to snatch the falling girl’s wrist. Emma, near the bottom on the other side, feels her heart leap into her throat. She’s climbed the frame and is by Killian’s side in under a minute, reaching over for Grace’s other arm. Together, they pull the crying girl safely over the edge and guide her down the other side and to the first aid tent, where the diagnosis is thankfully a case of mild shock, a lightly sprained wrist, and nothing more.

The campers are taken into town for a movie night and a sleepover in the town's museum, a chance for the junior camp counselors to have a break and enjoy some time among company solely over the age of 18. In between roasting smores and grilling hot dogs, wrapped in warm and familiar conversation with the other girls, Emma notices that Killian barely moves his left arm, and constantly rubs at his left shoulder. It’s the same one that Brennan Jones had dislocated when Killian was 11, was frequently abused in high school during his time claiming football team glory, and she knows it’s given him trouble constantly since. The day’s events had probably set off the old ache, a suspicion confirmed when she hears him wave off David’s concerns with a smile that doesn’t quite hide that he’s in pain. Her eyes narrow immediately, and it’s not long after that that she disappears from the bonfire, intent on locating something she needs to put that particular situation to rest.

It never occurred to her that an entirely different problem would rear its ugly head.

********

Later, Killian walked to his cabin alone, and noted how strange it was to see the building so quiet, so still, with the campers away in town. The ache in his shoulder had escalated into a fierce throb, so much so that even the mystery of where Emma disappeared to so early could no longer hold his attention, and he'd decided to retire. Across the small clearing was the Bad Blood girl’s cabin, and from its windows blazed out a cheerful light, which at least answered that particular question, and he stared in its direction, motionless, a direct contrast to how his thoughts swirled. It was of little surprise when they settled on what appeared to be the topic he simply had no power to keep away from, no matter how many years had passed: Emma Swan.

Even now, when things between them were better than they had been all summer, her presence was hardly soothing when he was in the best of moods. She got under his skin just as easily when she wasn’t trying to as she did when she was, and he'd lost count of the number of times he'd had to hold himself back from slinging his arm around her shoulder or engulfing her in a hug or other decidedly less innocent gestures that he didn’t want to think about.

It was a problem that had only grown the more time they’d spent in peace. Though the rational side of him knew it wasn’t Emma's fault at all, this electric awareness he'd always had of her, right now, with his shoulder a constant nagging pain only adding to his frustrations, the most likely thing that would result from seeing her would be an argument. The best thing for everyone would be for him to withdraw and tend to his injury in private. It would give him time to gain a little more control over his impulses-or make the attempt at least. Semi-convinced, he turned towards his own cabin, and ignored the sentiment that he would rather have been going the opposite way. He frowned as he realized that when it came to his former best friend, it seemed like he was doomed to never be able to do what he truly wanted to, and for the life of him, he couldn't work out exactly whose fault that was.

Further musings were interrupted when he entered the single room, for several things happened at once. He sighed in relief at the glorious, beautiful, silence, and then jumped about a foot in the air when his bedside lamp switched on without his input, flooding the space with light. Once his eyes had adjusted and his heart had resettled into its normal position, he swore long and viciously, partly from shock, but mostly because Emma was there, on a chair next to his bed, (-of course she was), rendering all his best intentions moot, as always. He was only halfway through a list of all her most annoying qualities when apparently fed up of his tirade, the subject of his ire got to her feet, and walked right up to where he still stood and ranted. Her expression was schooled to project boredom, but the light that always preceded trouble when they were younger flickered in and out of her gaze.

"I'll make you a deal," Cutting across him like he hadn't been speaking, she crossed her arms over her chest. "I'll own up to all of my apparent shortcomings, in front of our friends and do all your chores for the next two days, plus my own-if you give me a high five with your left hand, right now. If you can't...you'll have to do as I say for an entire half hour, no arguments. What do you say, Jones?"

She uncrossed her arms, and one eyebrow lifted in challenge in unison with her right palm. Killian glared darkly and at least ten seconds ticked by before he attempted her dare, an endeavor that was a total failure, just like the maddening girl had known it would be. Unexpectedly, Emma didn't smirk in triumph, nor did she gloat. Instead, what looked suspiciously like concern flashed through the familiar green of her eyes, and those she rolled magnificently as she dropped her waiting hand.

"Christ. Would you stop being so ridiculous? Get on the bed, already."

She might as well have announced that she was secretly the princess of an enchanted wonderland and the savior of entire realms. His mouth dropped, and although he wanted to deny it, the choked sound that had been far too loud had definitely come from him. He mouthed soundlessly for several long moments, while Emma pursed her lips to keep from laughing, before she finally took pity on him and pulled the small bottle of lavender essential oil from her back pocket, waving it under his nose. It was a flashback, Ingrid's method of choice to relieve aches and pains, a preference passed on to Emma, and a reminder of so many times she had kneaded out his sore muscles after a game. Before he could think about it much more, he nodded, turned and walked to his bed, facing slightly away from her to hide cheeks that had flamed crimson.

Emma's amusement didn't last too long, especially once she noticed that Killian would be unable to deal with his shirt by himself. It was hardly the first time she had taken off a man’s clothes, but she couldn't explain the hesitation before she moved to him, the way her fingers trembled as she reached for the hem he’d managed to drag halfway up his torso, or the tingle that raced through her at the contact with his skin. Her reactions made no sense, and so Emma fell back on habits she'd mastered...ignoring the hell out of them.

Killian jumped at the feel of fingers brushing along his back, too absorbed in the struggle with his t-shirt to have heard her approach. He spun around in time to see a flash of embarrassment and uncertainty dance on her face before a businesslike mask fell over it all.

"It'll be easier if I help." Her defensive words barely had time to register, similar to how he barely had time to protest, because while it might be easier for her, for him it would be torture, but Emma was too quick. In the next instant she'd pulled the soft cotton up his body, off his head and for the second time in less than ten minutes, he stood there gaping stupidly while she seemed completely above it all.

Running through his mind was all the thousands of ways he had imagined this moment playing out, (-how her shirt would quickly follow his, how he'd thumb off the button on her jeans or tug the skirt off her waist, how there would be laughter and heat and sweet anticipation, how he would savor every glorious moment until his body finally covered hers, how she would hold him near, so close they would be unable to tell where she stopped and he began-) and he cut off the dangerous line of thought with effort, focused instead on the irony of how different reality was. Had he been a little less distracted, he could have taken comfort in the fact that Emma was as discomfited as he, and was quite unable to pry her eyes from his chest. As it was, the best he could do was cough awkwardly, turn away from her even more, and toe off his shoes.

"Uh..Thanks. So-how do you want me?"

This time, it was Emma who made the strangled sound, quickly squelched, and she ignored the funny look he sent her way, settling down on his bed.

"Just-sit upright in front of me. Facing away,"

Her tone, pitched a little higher than usual, was Killian's first clue that perhaps he wasn't the only one having difficulties, but he hid his small grin, and did as requested. Emma stared at the expanse of his broad back before her, and allowed opportunity for the more sensible side of her to take over, because seriously what the hell was she thinking? Killian was quite capable of doing this himself, she really should just leave him the bottle and beat a hasty retreat to her own cabin before she did something even more stupid than say, take his shirt off, but it seemed like she'd lost control of her body. Instead of standing up and fleeing, she'd uncapped the bottle instead, and was now shaking a substantial amount of the oil into her palm.

Somewhere, her sensible side was groaning in defeat. Somewhere else, the devil in her was cackling with glee.

For his part, Killian shifted impatiently, and silently debated the wisdom of the situation, an internal discussion that grew more and more unruly as time went on and still Emma made no move. He had halfway convinced himself to speak up and call the whole thing off when she finally put her hands on him. If he jumped slightly at the contact or breathed in sharp, neither of them mentioned it.

Emma started off gently, her touch so uncertain and fleeting that Killian's earlier reservations came roaring back, but then her grip changed, the pressure increased, and the groan of relief that escaped before he could stop it was borderline indecent. It was the ice breaker they needed-Emma laughed out loud this time, and at the bright and happy sound Killian relaxed instantly.

"Keep it together, Jones. Think of the children."

Killian's eyes fluttered shut at the respite her massage was bringing and shook his head.

"Even if the children were here, it's their fault I'm in this mess in the first place, so I think they'll understand, Swan." The words were grumbled, but there was no real ire behind them, and both of them knew it, with the exchange fading into small smiles.

They spent the next several minutes in companionable silence, and the mood was light and easy, as if they had somehow carved for themselves a pocket of time and space away from the rest of the world. She changed the pressure of her touch according to the shift and play of his muscles, the way his breathing deepened and went shallow, the tiny encouraging nods he gave her. Despite the rather uncomfortable start to his current situation, Killian felt at ease for the first time that day, the ache in his shoulder diminishing under her touch.

"Do you remember the weeping willow at the edge of park, the one we used to spend hours playing on?" His voice was a low, relaxed murmur, and although typically, a trip down their shared memory lane would make her hackles rise, Emma smiled at the question instead, her voice as equally soft as his.

"Of course. Like I could forget the tree you almost fell to your death from?"

The wry comment made him laugh and he gamely endured her light reprimand to keep still. "You're being dramatic," he accused her, feeling even more of his muscles go lax. "I wasn't even ten feet off the ground, and I managed to catch myself, thank you very much."

Emma rolled her eyes at his smugness, before she continued to knead at his skin.

"Barely, Jones. Right, turn around, I'm done with this side."

In hindsight, she probably should have given that request a little more thought, because when Killian readily complied, she found she was much, much too close to his naked chest. More than that, she was not even a little prepared to have him watching as her gaze jumped wildly from the slope of his shoulders to the dusting of dark hair on his chest to the column of his throat in a desperate bid to find some safe place to look.

Get it together, Emma!

The voice sounded eerily like Lily, come to drag her out to gym again, and she allowed herself one deep, breath and a quick prayer to whoever was listening as she started to massage his shoulder once more. Emma kept a laser focus on the front of his shoulder this time, intent on a particularly tight knot, and hoped he hadn't noticed her freeze.

"What...what made you bring that up?"

Unfortunately for her, Killian had noticed her falter. Fortunately, however, he was far too occupied with going through a similar reaction himself to make any comment on it, completely distracted with the realization that she was closer to him than she had been in years. The waltz they had shared called for proper distance, one that certainly didn't exist between them now, as he sat Indian style, and she in turn had her feet neatly folded under her thighs, her knees almost touching his shins. He could see every freckle on her face, could smell her sunscreen, sweat and traces of something floral that combined was altogether too alluring. He'd narrowly avoided the temptation to stare right into her eyes only by being focused on the tendrils of hair that had strayed from her bun and lay against her neck. The next few moments were spent fighting the itch to twine them back to join their fellows before he realized she had even spoken.

"Jones?"

"What? Oh. Right. I just realized that I must have been a really shrimpy kid then, because I pulled my shoulder that time too, and the pain wasn't this bad." Amusement curved his lips upward, and he told himself he felt nothing when he saw the matching grin steal across Emma's lips too. "So either Grace weighs more now at age 10 then I did at age 12, or-my pain tolerance levels have dropped."

Emma's grin shifted to a smirk and she shook her head. "When we were 12, I was about a foot taller than you, so it is definitely the former. Don't you remember all those school pictures when you had to be always been in the front? And how Ms. Wells would always try to cast you as an elf?"

Apparently she remembered well enough for the both of them, and Killian shot her a flat look as the unpleasant memory resurfaced. It held only momentarily, because she'd started to giggle and he couldn't help but laugh with her instead. In the next moment, she got a little more aggressive in her efforts and he winced in response, with Emma immediately pausing in concern.

"Sorry. Was that too much?"

"No-it was good." He motioned for her to keep going. "Don't stop."

Emma studied him, as if confirming he wasn't only displaying a brave front and then she shrugged and did as instructed. Killian took the opportunity to study her in turn, with no danger of being trapped by her eyes.

"You're probably right,"

"I'm right about a lot of things." The smart response was delivered with a flick of her gaze to his, her voice filled with amusement. "What are you talking about this time?"

"That I was just...small for my age back then. I probably have the same tolerance for pain, and maybe even more now." The moon could be seen, full and bright outside his window, and for the first time, Killian looked away from Emma. "If there's one thing I've learned so far, it's that I've been built to endure a lot of it."

It was the offhand way he said the words that got to her. His tone had still been lighthearted, and he'd obviously not meant to start any serious discussion, but Emma's hands faltered in their rhythmic motion, and then slowed until they had stopped altogether. Killian, curious at the interruption, shifted to look at her and found that she was already watching him.

Emma sat stiff, because even if she hadn't been able to see the truth of his statement in his expression, she still would have known that he was right-she had been there after all, through most of it, until the day she hadn't. She could not apologize, even now, even when she acutely felt their temporary reprieve collapsing under the weight of the past. She still could not bring herself to say the words 'I'm sorry I left", not when they would be a lie. Instead, she smiled sadly, breaking their stare and moving her hand to the middle of his chest.

He pulled in a breath at the contact, and forgot to let it out again. Or maybe it was her who ceased to breathe. Regardless, neither of them moved nor spoke until she tapped once.

"Not surprised." Blue clashed with green, and Emma's smile was small, but genuine as she continued. "You always did have a strong heart."

Killian's breath caught at the butterfly touch and his heart stuttered to a stop at her words, because for once, there were no walls up between them, no cutting remarks meant to incense and offend to keep the other away. Although some part of him whispered a distant warning, the rest of him roared louder. He had realized this for the opportunity it was, the one he should have had years ago. So he could react in only one way as she made to lift away her hand-by reaching up with one of his own to trap it in place instead.

Emma tensed, gaze flitting from her hand wrapped in his, still held closely to his chest, to his eyes. They glittered with too many things to properly decipher and the look in their depths instantly put her on alert. Still, after valiant effort, she managed to keep her voice calm and collected, not at all betraying the furious hammering of her heart.

"I-kinda need that. Will you let go?"

"I will." It sounded like a promise, although it did nothing to make her feel better, and his next words only intensified the dread that crept through her. "If we can talk about one thing."

Emma's heart continued its unsteady pound. Despite the fact that her sensible side was screaming bloody murder, advising her to snatch back her hand and get the hell out, now, the words were out before she could stop herself.

"What thing?"

Inwardly, she cursed, for she had always been a touch too daring, too curious for her own good, and something told her that this time she would not escape unscathed.

"The last night I saw you."

Killian watched as she froze, and with the confirmation of her worst suspicions, Emma recognized the sticky feeling that welled up in her as panic. If there was anything in the world she wanted to talk about less than that night, nothing came to mind and she shook her head immediately.

“No. I…I don’t want to talk about that. It’s…it was such a long time ago, and-I don't know about you, Jones, but I'm actually enjoying the fact that we can go two hours without trying to rip each other's head off now." The attempt at humor was accompanied by a smile that felt strained, even to her, and matched her tone exactly. "Can’t we just let it be?”

Killian searched her face, deliberating, and for a brief, glorious, moment it looked like he had granted the reprieve...except he hadn't.

"I can't. It's been eating me up inside for years and I can't...I can't do it anymore."

In his last six words was the pain from the three years that had gone by, from the wounds dealt by her departure, left to fester, fed by regret and pain. He spoke quietly, but still Emma flinched like a thunder clap had echoed through the room.

"Please let's not do this."

"Do you know what it was like, those first few weeks?" Her whispered plea fell on deaf ears as he asked his question, eyes haunted, desolate, and she couldn't look away. "We had no idea- I had no idea where you were, if you were safe-I had no idea what had happened to you. Did you hate me that much at the end, Emma, that you couldn't even let me know you were alive?"

It was the height of irony that she would have given much over the summer to have him look at her with anything but contempt and irritation, and now that he was, now that she could see the depths of hurt and sadness she had left him with, she wished he would go back to pretending she didn't exist. Her shoulders slumped, her gaze dropped to the bed between them, and when he sensed that she wouldn't leave the moment he let go, Killian did just that.

"No, of course I didn't hate you." Her exhale was shaky, and she met his gaze for only a brief moment before she looked away again. “I could never-that's not it, that's not why I left,"

"Then why?" Killian tried to keep his voice calm, but it was akin to trying to hold back the tides. "Christ, we'd been together practically our whole lives, Swan, we were best friends, we were family, and you just left without saying a word-"

She laughed, low and incredulous, and he swallowed hard at the sound, unable to continue, especially when she started to speak.

"I didn't say a word? I remember it quite a bit differently, Jones, I remember saying a lot actually, and maybe it was too much, because at the end of it...what else was there to say? The last night I saw you, I just about ripped my heart out of my chest and gave it to you on a silver platter and...you said you didn't want it."

Emma glanced up, a brittle little smile on her face, and shrugged as if that night hadn't torn her world apart, like it hadn't sent her into a tailspin that had taken years to recover from, if she ever had at all. Her voice shook as she continued and she forced herself to ignore that particular bit of self-reflection.

"You said you didn't want me."

Killian recoiled as if she had snapped a whip at him, but now, Emma was victim to an unstoppable flow of words and she could do nothing to bar the tide.

"If there was anything that summer taught me, it was that I was barely strong enough to function when I didn't have you at my side, so sticking around and watching you fall in love with someone else? After I'd spent years wishing and hoping it would be me, waiting for you to see me like that-even if I didn't know that's what I had been doing, I-I couldn't-I needed to leave. I needed to show myself I could still stand on my own, that I could still be alone...that I could be without you. Because by then-I didn't have a choice, did I?"

It was fascinating, the play of emotions across his face as she had spoken, cycling from regret to hurt and sadness then stopping at anger that had his eyes blazing and hard. She couldn't look away.

"So then you decided to leave, did you, and in all your hurry to be alone and prove something, you never once thought about what that meant for me? It never once occurred to you that you were leaving me alone too?"

"You had Milah-" Her emphatic statement was cut off by his outburst, frustration clear in every word.

"Milah wasn't you, Emma! She wasn't there when my father was beating my mother and I to a pulp and I was too bloody scared to tell anyone about it! She wasn't there each time that bastard got cleaned up and came back and then left despite all promises not to! She wasn't there the time my brother went missing and I almost went out of my mind! She wasn't there for the most fucked up parts of my life, but you were, you were the one to help pick up all the pieces and get my shit back together, you were the one who told me I could be more than just the boy from the wrong side of town, you were there. You were always there." He was tired and defeated at the end of it, his words quiet, the look on his face damning. "Until you weren't."

The accusation hung like a blade between them and Emma shook her head, a weak denial against the words they both knew to be true.

"Don't do that, don't you dare-" Her eyes burned but the glaze of tears didn't fall, she would not let them. "Do you think it was easy for me? Do you think I enjoyed it? I left everything and everyone I had ever known, and -"

"You didn't need to go at all!" Killian interrupted hotly, his blankets curled into his fists at his side. "You could have stayed, you could have talked to me-"

"Like you talked to me that night you mean?" It was Emma's turn to flare up, her face carved into tense lines, jaw locked and eyes blazing. "When you couldn’t even-fine. You want to talk so badly, Killian? Then let's talk. Tell me why. Explain to me why you couldn't love me like I love you. Talk to me now, like you couldn't talk to me back then."

It was as if they had been transported back in time to that terrible night years ago. The empty parking lot and her faithful car had been replaced by an empty log cabin and a bed but Killian hadn't changed, he was still looking at her with that strange mixture of emotions that rippled past too quickly for her to understand, with the silence and regret building, the air growing thick. Now, just like then, his expression was softening, and she knew, she knew he was going to reach for her and that could not happen, she wouldn't be able to think if he touched her. Emma jerked away, as unable to withstand it at present as she'd been in the past, especially once she realized her fatal slip...

...explain to me why you couldn't love me like I love you.

Self-preservation kicked in, and the urge to flee grew stronger, because some things, it seemed, would never change. Killian Jones was still her kryptonite, somehow capable of making her forget promises she'd made to herself, effortlessly breaching her carefully constructed walls. She needed to leave, she needed time to process, to recover from the fact that she might just have revealed her greatest secret-

Emma mustered her strength, and retreated behind the thinnest veneer of calm she'd ever made in her life. She placed the bottle carefully between them and then stood, slipping her feet into her flip flops.

"Right. That's what I thought. Keep it, I'd apply once more before you sleep. I'll see you around."

She held herself together quite admirably in her opinion, despite the fact that she was all but running for the door. She had it halfway open before a hand reached out from behind her and pushed it closed, and Emma gasped, then spun round. Killian was right behind her, and at least now, there was no mistaking the emotion in his eyes-it was anger, fierce and unyielding. Effectively cornered, there was only one option left: attack.

"What the hell do you think you're doing Jones?"

"No more running, Swan." His left hand lifted to join its counterpart on the door, caging her in and Emma would have cautioned his use of it, especially at the slight spasm of pain that passed over his face, but she was too irritated now.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. No more running. You went all the way to the other side of the country three years ago, where will you go now? Alaska? Indonesia?" He shook his head and took another step closer. "I'm not taking that chance, not this time. You wanted to know about that last night? You wanted to hear my side of it? Then you're going to have to stay and listen."

Emma was ready to tell him to go to hell. There was a withering reply on the tip of her tongue, one that would have told him in no uncertain terms where to stick it, but then the belligerent set of his jaw relaxed, and his whole frame sagged. The blue eyes that had been filled with angry fire just seconds before were now soft and pleading. He looked much more like the scared and exhausted version who would turn up after each night Brennan Jones had been particularly drunk than the snarky and sarcastic one she'd been butting heads with all summer.

She didn't move as he dropped his left arm. She didn't breathe when he took her hand captive again, and twined his fingers loosely through hers, his touch gentle and unsure, as if trying to hold the wind.

"Emma, please. Please don't go. Don't leave. Not again."

At that point, it didn't matter that for most of summer, they had barely had a conversation that didn't involve sniping, sarcastic tones and cold words. In the middle of their first real conversation in years, he had lost all his pride, and wasn't above begging.

"Killian-"

"What if I told you-what if I told you that you were right that night? What if I lied?" Killian swallowed, and watched as the implications of what he was saying registered. He watched her eyes widen, filling first with confusion, and then spark with suspicion. "What if I told you that I felt the same way? That I always-"

"Stop it, just stop!" This time when she snatched her hand away, he let her, even as he silently hoped she wouldn't walk away. "What is this, you feel sorry for me, so you're telling me what I wanted to hear back then? Is this supposed to be a joke?"

"No, Swan, it's not. Just, listen, please, if you listen to me now, I promise I will never bring it up again,"

The words were almost a mirror image of the ones she'd said to him that fateful last night. She was trapped in a vicious cycle of deja vu. Her mind was screaming at her to run, as fast and as far as she could, but it was the tiny whisper from her bruised and battered heart, telling her that they had already done that once, for all the good it had brought, that won out.

Emma crossed her arms, as if pulling up an armor to protect herself from whatever would happen next. Killian read her actions as acquiescence and immediately backed off, the hand that had held back the door shifting to the nape of his neck instead. Strange that he'd thought about this moment many times over the last few years, but when it finally arrived, he found himself no better prepared than the night of their very last fight.

"Jones-"

Killian raised a hand, a signal that begged for one more moment to gather himself. Emma huffed and then settled more comfortably against the door, waiting, but quite reluctantly. It could not be clearer that his time was limited, and so, Killian fell back into old habits: he leapt before he looked, and started to speak before he was even sure what he was going to say…

**********

Interlude

- he is five years old, and his mother is crying. She's been doing so for a while now, ever since his father shoved her and then stormed out of their little house, a cloud of bad temper and the smell of liquor following in his wake. He doesn't know what to do. He's not the best at telling time yet, but he knows his big brother gets home only when the shorter hand of the clock is pointed to the seven, and it's still between the 5 and 6. He is on his own, his mother is crying and he wants her to stop, because it hurts to see her so sad.

His hands shake as he pours a glass of water, tiny hands clumsy and unaccustomed to handling the pitcher, but he manages and spills only a little. He has to call twice before she finally looks up at him and his glass, blinking through the tears. Her hand is as shaky as his when she accepts his offering, and she drinks and places the glass carefully to the side before opening her arms out for him. Her embrace is familiar and comforting and he shuts his eyes as she starts to hum. It's not the normal, sweet melody he's used to, but she's stopped crying, at least, and the tightness in his chest eases somewhat.

He pulls back a little to stare her in the face. She is beautiful his mother, and even more so, when she's not crying. He tells her the former, leaves off the latter. She smiles and thanks him, and then holds him close to her once more. Exhausted from all the tears, her last murmur before she sleeps is that he is so much like his father. He is sure (-he hopes) she means that they look alike, and not that they both make her cry, but the chill in his heart returns, because he is only 5, and he realizes his father is not a good man.

-he is 15. School is out for the day, the weather is gorgeous, a golden afternoon laced with a cool ocean breeze, the sky blue and blazing and dotted with puffy clouds, and best of all, his best friend is laughing gaily by his side. Emma's arms swing freely, for he carries her books and his, all the better to facilitate her wild gestures as she speaks. In her hair, its stem twined through the haphazard braid she'd fixed above her ear in the morning, is a bright yellow buttercup he'd presented to her with a flourish, cheerful and bright against the gold of her tresses.

She is describing the mayhem that the ongoing war between Regina and her half-sister Zelena for control of Storybrooke High's cheer leading squad has wrought, and though he could care less about the Mills sisters battle for dominance, he does care a lot about how much it entertains Emma. If their squabbles mean the Swan girl will spend the rest of high school laughing and amused, then he hopes Regina and Zelena will never find a truce, for his and Emma's lives had never been ones filled with constant laughter. A knobby elbow jabs into his ribs just then, and he snaps back to the present in time to see his companion pull a ridiculous face at him, punishment for his perceived lack of attention. He can't help but laugh as well and amend his previous thought: their lives had never been filled with constant laughter-save for when they are together.

They round the corner that brings both their houses into sight, and as his eyes fall upon the white car parked in the driveway of his home, his smile freezes. It dies completely when the driver's side door opens, and a familiar person steps out. There can be no question that Brennan Jones is his father, for he had passed nearly everything of his looks to his youngest son, except for his eyes. Those, Killian owed to his mother, and they are the only part of his reflection that doesn’t make his skin crawl. Regrets about resemblance are the last thing on his mind at the moment, for today, his father appears sure footed, and swinging off one of his arms is a grocery bag full of food with flowers peeking out the top- all signs that point to this being Brennan Jones' Sober Version, the one that was in some ways, the most dangerous one of all. This version constantly raised Anne Jones’ hopes only to dash them mercilessly when he inevitably disappeared, and the Raging Drunk that was his usual persona came back.

Emma notices that something is wrong immediately; of course she does, for she knows him better than anyone. Her eyes narrow the moment they land on his father, and he can tell from the way she stops and glances behind them that she is calculating how far they have come from the corner, and whether they will still be able to retreat without drawing attention. He knows from her set jaw that she has deemed it too far, just as he knows from her expression, an equal mix of determination and concern, what she will suggest next. It will be some complaint about homework, and how she will absolutely not be able to accomplish anything without him, so please could he come home with her and help her out? There might even be dinner in it for him. She picks history to whine about, slowing her steps to a reluctant plodding, and it's all very transparent but Killian is weak and he is tired of seeing that hopeful light bloom in his mother’s eyes only for it to disappear when his father disappoints her as he always does.

So he agrees, and stops short of actually drawing level with his house, where Brennan, having spotted them, now waits. He sends Emma on with a promise to be there as soon as he tells his mother where he is going to be, and when Emma departs, he squares his shoulders, approaches and gives his greetings. Brennan doesn't acknowledge him at first. His father's eyes track Emma's movements with interest, and immediately, his own hackles rise. His best friend is lovely, and only growing more so still, but if his father even thinks of going there...he calms down fractionally when Brennan meets his gaze and he sees only honest curiosity in their depths. He answers the questions in short order: yes, that is Emma Swan. Yes, she's still his best friend, and yes, she's grown quite tall.

Killian's skin itches at how the look in his father's eyes has turned speculative, and especially at how he grins knowingly when he asks if the buttercup was from him. He doesn't wait for the response before he claps his son genially on the shoulder and turns to head into their house. The Jones men seem to favor flowers when wooing women, he says, and it's heartening to see that like father like son still very much applies to them. The words lodge an ice pick in his heart because he is 15, and he wants to be nothing like his father.

-he is 17, and he's had just a little too much to drink. Storybrooke High's football team has ended their season the conference champs, victory delivered on David's and his shoulders, and they are sure to be co-captains when their last year of high school begins. For now though, thoughts of the future are far from his mind. At present, he is more concerned with why the bloody key hole keeps jumping from place to place and why there are suddenly four of them, when the door to the house opens and Killian falls in a heap at his older brother's feet. He groans, for the key hole is not the only thing that has multiplied, and his older brother's disapproving face dances around him in fours.

Liam sighs at him, he thinks, he can't exactly tell, because he's telling him about the ridiculous game he'd just played, and won, aching shoulder be damned. He remembers at the last moment that Liam had been at the game, made a special trip from Boston just to see this last one, and they had already celebrated, just the family, a little earlier on in the night, so he hardly needed the play by play, but it's worth re-telling he thinks.

By the time he's done, Liam has helped up into his room, telling him to keep it down, for their mother's bedroom isn't too far away. He has regained enough of his facilities to apologize for being a pain, he'd not meant to drink so much, but Emma had been at the party and they'd been challenged to defend their beer pong crown. Swan never backed down from a challenge, and therefore, neither did he, hence his staggering home at this hour. Liam smiles, he thinks, and merely helps him out of his varsity jacket and his shoes, before tucking him in like he's six bloody years old and Killian secretly loves it.

Not that he'd ever tell.

Before Liam leaves, he hovers at the door, and Killian manages to inquire what he's forgotten. His brother says nothing for a long time, and then only shakes his head and tells him that this little episode aside, he's extremely proud of Killian, because despite his worries, he's shaping up to be quite the young man. It's a nice thought, strong enough to overpower the fleeting question of what Liam was worried over, and Killian falls asleep with a happy glow that has nothing to do with alcohol. When he wakes the next day, he is still 17, with a hangover as fierce as his headache, and as he empties the contents of his stomach into the toilet, he realizes what had worried his brother so: the realization that at 17, he might be more similar to his father than he had thought.

TBC.

#cs ff #cs au #We're Going Down Swinging #captain swan #captain swan fanfiction #my fic

59 notes · View notes

laurabelle2930 · 7 years

Text

Every Life has a Moment ~ Olicity Fic

So this was written out of pure enjoyment. I have a prompt I need to finish but I’ve just been blocked. This I wrote for me and because I want to feel inspired to continuing writing. Thank you for everyone’s endless support I appreciate it more than I can possibly convey!

P.S. I will be adding an additional chapter... If you want me too...

Every Life has a Moment

Every life has a moment... No everyone’s life has a key moment? Or should it be every person will experience a key moment?”

Felicity dragged the graphite tip along the crinkled mass of paper beneath her tapping fingers then hovered over the illusive first line. She cocked her confused head while the curled brown tendrils fell freely over her bare left shoulder. The camisole strap slipped down the angled slope of her scapula when she moved the pencil back down to the second paragraph. “No...” she muttered lightly between clenched teeth, “It should stay here but then I would lose this line and then the bottom half won’t make any sense!”

The indent in her furrowed brow grew as she sighed, “I’m never going to get this right...”

The chuckle from the headboard of her cramped on leg room bed made her nearly snap the pencil in two. “No you’re never going to get to the point where you feel its perfect is what you should be muttering.”

Felicity ran her nervous fingers through her maddening hair while growling, “This coming from the professional slacker...”

Her best friend smirked, “I’m not the one who’s going to be bald by morning now am I?”

Felicity’s fingers froze near the nape of her neck; she tapped along the taut skin before sighing in defeat, “Why can’t you just come with me? You know be my moral support while a crowd of eager minds laps up every stupid word I can hopefully deliver?”

Those devious blue eyes slanted into two nearly invisible silts. The small worry lines near those fairly perfect lashes fluttered easily over the sharp contours of her favorite slacker’s cheek bones. Felicity crossed her legs at the ankles then flashed her sometimes roommate a dazzling grin. Her counterpart in turn huffed, “Felicity I’m not going to sit in a crowd filled with well wishers while you stand on a stage and nervously sweat.”

She nodded briefly before her chin fell squarely to her small chest. “You’d do it for Thea....” she mumbled contritely.

“She’s also my baby sister!” Oliver groaned exhaustedly.

“Yeah but you’re my best friend!” Felicity blurted out within moments of his last words.

He grumbled as the mattress beneath his solid body groaned. “What time is the damn ceremony again?”

Felicity glanced up slowly with a small grin, “At noon,” she instantly supplied while she rolled the pencil between her thumb and index finger.

She caught the sparkle of surrender in those endless blue depths. “I must really love you,” he commented lowly so only dogs could hear his garbled reply.

Her eyes radiated with eternal warmth, “I love you too slacker,” she mused while she tapped the pencil’s tip along the elusive first paragraph.

Oliver let himself slip until his head was positioned over her rumbled pillow. She shot him a small glance when he breathed, “They’ll be in the crowd tomorrow...”

She nodded involuntarily while giving her distracted reply, “I know they sent me the flowers you see on my bedside table.”

She saw him glance at the arrangement of red roses and glare mournfully. “You’d think you were their child instead of me,” he sighed deeply with a tinge of resentment.

Felicity shrugged off the minced words and dropped the pencil on the desk. She shifted on the small back stool until her palms were over her bent knees. She saw his eyes scan over her slumped form with regret, “You know I didn’t mean anything by that right?” he asked somberly.

She gave him the required slow nod of empathy before she rubbed her palms over the soft, black fabric of her faded sweatpants. “Still if my parent’s hadn’t died when I was five you and I may never have met so I can’t feel the same way,” she croaked like the worn grooves of an old record.

His eyes shot to the ceiling as his fingers met over his toned stomach. She watched him carefully as he slowly digested her words. His chiseled jaw moved slightly while he slowly began to grind his otherwise perfect back molars. His furrowed brow hid the beauty of his eyes while his full lips were pursed into a nearly invisible line. His long legs were crossed at the ankles while the bare heels of his feet rested just over the bed’s edge. She watched the small, rhythmic movements of his chest and stomach while he searched for the right words.

“They love you Oliver,” she commented quietly as he continued to stare somberly at her popcorn ceiling.

His eyes shot forward landing on her hooded stare as his lips formed a timid smile, “I’m hoping they aren’t the only ones,” he chided with mild humor.

Felicity grabbed an older draft of her commencement speech and threw the crumbled ball at his head. He let the paper bullet hit his forehead as he smiled proudly. “Seriously?” he teased.

She rolled her eyes then replied, “You’re avoiding your feelings again.”

“Maybe, but flirting with you is just so tempting...” he deflected as Felicity slowly rose. She watched his body shudder in amusement so she decided to test the waters. Felicity first shook her hips playfully. Oliver wagged his brows then hiccupped, “Haha very funny Felicity…” while she did a semi-turn before his bemused form. His laugher made her bold but, her heart was bursting within her ribcage. His eyes widened a bit as she slipped her fingers beneath the waistband of her sweats. She bit at her lower lip then batted her long lashes. He seemed shocked but still his intrigued body responded when he inched himself upward until his shoulders were scrunched up next to his ears. His fingers were by his torso as he used the points of his elbows to balance his weight. He gulped nervously, “Ummm Felicity?”

Her lashes flashed as her surprised eyes rose. His blue eyes blazed with an emotion that she’d only seen once… She mumbled softly with a giggle lodged in her throat, “Yeah baby?” in a vain attempt to calm her growing nerves.

His eyebrows shot up to his seemingly surprised hairline, “Felicity!” he yelped awkwardly.

With her heart lodged in her drying throat she shot him an annoyed eye roll. His lips parted briefly before she decided to let him in on the game. She pulled at the elastic waistband until it snapped loudly over her hip bone, “You said you wanted to flirt...” she drooled in annoyance. “I’m simply responding in kind,” she mocked with false sincerity.

Oliver’s lips fell into deep frown as he realized his mistake. “Right,” he sighed almost instantly. “You’re not my girlfriend of the week...” his apology made her head bob in silent agreement as she began to tap her feet nervously along the floor.

Felicity pulled her fingers up to her elbows, “No I’m just someone who genuinely loves you,” she mumbled as she dragged her fingers over her upper arms. She let the air around them fill with unspoken words as she pondered if he truly knew just how deep her love for him went.

He tilted his head noticing the faraway look in her eyes and beckoned softly, “Willing to share?”

She saw him shift his hips to the left side as he spoke. She couldn’t help but smile at the double meaning lumbering forward until her knees were against his toes. “When your parents took me in they saved my life but it’s my relationship with you that saved my soul do you understand that? Do you understand how much I value what we have?” she asked while her tone demanded a simple yes or no.

Oliver tapped at her knees with his wiggling toes. She smiled at the small gesture and bumped his big toe with her knee cap. His pushed his arms outward until he’d fallen completely backward. She bit the inside of her cheek once she noticed that his head was once again in line with the middle of her pillow. He pushed his palms down to his waist and tapped gently at the newly formed free space. “I’m sorry Felicity, I’m sorry that I was insensitive yet again,” he groaned as she crawled over the bed’s edge and toward the space by his chest.

She patted at his bent knee before she placed her cheek over his softly beating heart; the soft fabric of his flannel shirt rubbed over her satin like skin as she gently cuddled into his side. With her fingers still wrapped around her forearms she curled her calves around his crossed lower legs. He in turn managed to snake his arm around her shoulders before he moved his fingers into the tendrils of her long, dark hair. She waited until his long, dexterous fingers were combing through her soft locks before she sighed, “I know they favor me over you and, I know it hurts but they’re just overcompensating and you know it.”

She felt the low tenor of his hearty chuckle as it rumbled over her cheek, “They don’t do this to Thea...”

“Well she was only a year old when they brought me home Oliver, you were seven and used to being the center of attention...” that comment made him chuckle loudly as he brought his free hand to rest over his belly button.

“Yeah you were five and a pain in the ass...”

Felicity nudged his chest with the tip of her nose, “Either way...they wanted me to feel loved and in the process we became best friends.”

She felt him “hmmm” in agreement.

“So you’ll really be in the front row?” she squeaked hopefully with her fluttering lashes catching over his flannel shirt.

He grumbled, “Again I must really love you...”

She rubbed her cheek up and down in affirmation, “I know you do...” Something in her tone felt forced but, she pushed the thought aside while she allowed herself to enjoy the stolen moment of perfect intimacy.

He moved his fingers up his stomach and over his sternum until the pads of his index and middle fingers were beneath the chin. She let him push her face away from his chest as he’d done many times before. He tilted his own chin so his chest moved beneath her skin. His soft kiss over the crown of her head made her heart swell warmly as he pushed her chin gently upward. She smiled warmly as he whispered, “Do you?”

She pursued her usually babbling lips lightly the squeaked, “Yeah like an annoying little sister who....”

Her lips froze when he slowly began to trail his index finger up over the tip of her chin and towards her o shaped lips. Her breath caught in her throat as he grazed his thumb over her bottom lip. She felt his fingers curling around the nape of her neck as she voluntarily titled her head even further. He lowered his chin then whispered, “You know it’s deeper than that…”

Felicity gulped deeply, “Your trail of endless girlfriends would indicate otherwise my friend.”

“Perhaps I’m scared of rejection,” he snickered gently as his beautiful mouth fell into a dazzling half smile.

She felt her thumbs brushing over her goosebump covered skin. Her body was covered in frayed nerves while he held her closely. She gazed into the eyes that had seen her through her failed prom night. She smiled shyly when she remembered how he’d kissed her lips gently as she cried through the stolen moment. She remembered every second they’d shared as she quietly replied, “I think the chances of rejection would be quite low…”

He snickered nervously which made her giggle as he said, “And yet here I am holding you with a rattled heart…”

Felicity having recovered a bit of wit threw out a veiled question. “Then why the look of alarm when you thought I might be undressing before your very eyes?” The brush of his thumb pad over her moving lips sent lines of fire racing through her inexperienced core. Her calves tightened over his legs as her body sought for more than she’d ever dreamed he’d be willing to give.

He leaned in closer; she took an unsteady breath as their noses grazed. He swallowed a harsh gulp of air then replied, “Because I’ve never been with someone I’m in love with.”

Felicity’s eyes widened in complete shock, “Excuse me what?” she gasped as he trailed his fingers down the slope of her extended throat.

He chuckled nervously as their lips hovered over the others. She could feel the heat of each rapid exhale over her moistened lips. Her stomach knotted in confusion as his lips danced dangerously close to hers. “So I’m guessing you’re a bit shocked?” he croaked lowly.

She swallowed a gnarled, “Yeah,” then hiccupped, “I just don’t understand…”

Their lips nearly met when he mumbled, “How I could love you or how I couldn’t seem to tell you?”

She hiccupped again nervously, “I’m going with both…”

Their lips grazed briefly when his roaming fingers began to caress the arch of her collarbone. “It was like a switch was flipped,” he rambled as his fingers grazed over the fallen strap of her camisole. “I was walking along minding my own business with my arms wrapped around some nameless girl when I realized I’d rather have my arms wrapped around you...”

Felicity’s heart froze, “Was the nameless girl Tiffany,” she joked lamely as he laughed lowly. “I spend hours thinking about you Felicity.”

Her heart stopped cold. “I can recount everything you’ve ever told me from the time you were five. I can tell you when you stopped liking certain foods, I can pinpoint when your favorite color changed and, even when you first understood heartbreak.” His calm tone left her almost breathless as he continued. “I could trace the contours of your face until I was old and I’d still found something new to cherish and, while it scares me it also wakes me up.” Her lungs burned from lack of air and, still she couldn’t breathe. He mused almost wordlessly, “I knew I loved you when I looked forward to simply hearing your voice…”

She finally inhaled deeply before exhaling, “You’re serious aren’t you?”

Oliver pressed his forehead against hers, “Yes Felicity I am,” he murmured as their lips finally met. The kiss was soft, warm, tender and timid as they each accepted the newly announced facts. He nibbled along her bottom lip as she carefully tasted the contours of his full upper lip. She could detect salt, mint and maybe even vanilla as she traced along the inner line of his lip with her eager tongue. He too moved his tongue slowly along her own when she’d finished exploring the small area. She could feel the small bumps and ridges of his tongue as it brushed roughly along her own. She felt her grip weakening over her upper arms as her body began to surrender to the new sensations.

Felicity groaned deeply into the intense kiss as Oliver used the fingers at the nape of her neck to grab at a loose section of hair. She screamed lowly until the echoes of her voice vibrated through his expanding rib cage. He tugged at her hair darkly while his other hand began roaming freely beneath the thin fabric of her now barely there camisole. The fabric brushing along her trembling fingers caused her to react vocally.

She gasped “Oliver we can’t...” right before she managed to reach for his forearm.

He growled against her swollen lips, “Why not?”

She pressed her nails into his warm skin and nearly choked, “Because what if we break up!”

His lips froze over her own. Their eyes met. His were filled with the storm of many raging emotions while hers were filled with love, longing and most importantly fear. She gulped sadly, “I won’t lie and say I don’t love you but I also won’t lie and say I’d be willing to risk us...”

His heartaching smile made her regret saying anything at all, “You’re in love with me yes or no?”

She squared her jaw and felt his growing smile brushing against her parted lips. She slanted her eyes and growled deeply, “I’m more than in love with you Oliver but that is beside the point.”

He moved his thumb over her lower ribcage and pecked her bottom lip, “Oh no you don’t Felicity…I gave you my words I want yours too…”

“Want to do want to hear?” she grumbled as he traced along underside of her left breast.

Her body shuddered violently when he whispered along her panting mouth, “When did you fall in love with me?”

Her body was ready to explode when she panted, “Prom…”

His touch along her teeming skin paused. He pulled back slightly so their foreheads could touch. She managed to catch her breath before uttering, “I see that threw you a bit…”

He gulped, “That means….”

“Yeah,” she interrupted, “I’ve been in love with you for over four years.”

She felt the tip of his nose over hers as he inhaled deeply, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Well I was 18 and you were 20…oh and I thought you were in love with Laurel,” she mumbled innocently.

She felt his forehead skirting along her blushing skin. The way his lips seemed to dance perfectly over hers made something inside her stomach dance. Her fingers ached to caress his scruffed jaw but she hesitated when he breathed, “I kissed you out of love that night not pity Felicity.”

She felt her knotted fingers moving along his sculpted forearm, while she used her other hand to carefully cup his whiskered cheek. He carefully rubbed his nose along hers when she whispered in a bit of remorse, “Did you ever love Laurel?”

He choked back a small indignant growl before issuing his own heartfelt confession, “I loved her like I was supposed to yes but if doesn’t compare to what I’ve always known I’d feel with you.”

Felicity groaned, “That night when my boyfriend broke my heart,”

He swallowed a gnarled, “I wanted to kill him for hurting you…”

She hiccupped in glee but added, “When you kissed me did you realize you felt something more?”

His cobalt blue eyes made her thighs clench, “Would you think less of me if I said yes?”

She pulled her thumb over his bottom lip and leaned forward until her lips were at the corner of his slight smile. “I’ve been in love with you for over four years I think I’d be hypocrite if I did…” she mumbled into the tender kiss.

His smile grew but hers simply faded. She pressed her index finger over his cheekbone as he said in painful realization, “You’re making a mistake Felicity.”

She nodded in complete agreement, “I agree but I can’t lose you.”

He kissed her roughly with need and urgency as she grabbed at his shirt. His tongue felt warm and welcome as he deepened the intensifying kiss. She moaned when his fingers slid over her pebbled nipple, her back arched when his thumb pressed along the aroused tip. She groaned in endless hunger, “Please don’t take this any further…”

Oliver’s fingers traveled to her sternum, she gulped as they each parted for air. “I won’t lose you Oliver,” she panted breathlessly with her palms along his cheeks.

His trembling lips felt feverish along her own, “You’re never going to lose me Felicity, I’m always going to love you...”

She argued gently, “And I you but...” and this is when she kissed him chastely while holding his face between her shaking hands, “I don’t just love you Oliver, I need you and I can’t risk the bond we have over the chance of something that could end. Do you understand?”

She saw the sting of rejection in his tender stare. She pressed her lips to his once more as she gently implored, “Please don’t feel rejected...”

He coughed awkwardly, “Hard not to Felicity...”

“Touch my heart,” she implored urgently. She felt his fingers dragging along the lines of her ribs, she gulped in arousal but remained focused on the message she’d yet to convey. His touch felt warm as he carefully traced along the damp skin. She pleaded profusely when his fingers were dancing over her racing pulse, “This is not the feeling of rejection Oliver, this is the feeling of elation, of arousal, of longing, and of love. My heart is racing because despite my words I do want you but...” she added hastily as his lips curved, “I need my best friend more...”

He relented sadly, “I’m completely in love with you…”

She nearly cried in reply, “And I’m hopelessly in love with you.”

Oliver’s damp brow rested heavily against her own in sadness, “Can I still spend the night?” he croaked sadly.

She nodded against his skin, “I don’t want us to change,” she remarked.

He then nodded while uttering, “I still think you’re making a mistake.”

She traced his bottom lip with her thumbs, “Perhaps,” she whispered sadly. “Perhaps...”

He kissed her fingerprints softly before nuzzling her forehead once last time.

She sighed with a heavy heart as the wall between them began to grow.

He still pulled her chest to his own as he slowly shifted onto his side. She kept their legs twined as he placed his palm over her exposed upper back. She yawned along his collar, “We’re forever right?”

He whispered delicately, “Yeah Felicity we’re for always...” before the invisible wall between them reached its final towering height.

Tagging: @emmaamelia95 @pleasantfanandstudent @coal000 @memcjo @lesanchea @mrsbubblelee @olicitylovemaking @miriam1779 @love2luvyyou @almondblossomme @diggo26 @rivaroma @cjjingram @vaelisamaza @befitandchase @pimsiepim @andjustforthismoment @anonymiss118 @thelockpickingvictorian @yet-i-remain-quiet @lexi9515 @kathrynelizabeth89 @marniforolicity @marytagus @myuntetheredsoul @myhauntedblacksoul @blondiegrl00 @independent-fics @felicity-said--yes @relativelyobsessedfangirl @i-m-a-fan-world @mel-loves-all @somewhatinvisible @danski15 @stygian-omada-fan @malafle @emilyp05 @oliverfel4 @alemap74 @vicky-vale @charlinert @hope-for-olicity @missafairy @arrows-4ever @jaspertown @sweetzcupcake @captainolicitysbedroom @nalla-madness @smoakingarrow19 @bwangangelic @ccdimples88 @lalawo1 @yespleasehawkeye @ireland1733 @quiveringbunny @supersillyanddorky06 @scu11y22

#arrow #arrow fic #olicity fic #olicity #au #oliver and felicity #college #alternate universe #drabble #working through writers block

130 notes · View notes

get-a-new-lease-on-life · 6 years

Text

OC development - Excerpts from the “New Lease on Life” series

develop-your-oc:

Which OC is just… really, really weird?

Hmmm…that’s a toughie because a LOT of my OCs are pretty freaking weird. Sonja threatens to fork people if she thinks they’re getting mushy. Maggie insists on ‘naming’ her Elemental techniques like she’s in some crappy anime. Dakota runs a one-woman pyrotechnics show, frequently blows herself up with fireworks, and always ends up with no eyebrows…

Then again…

“That’s it,” Leo scolded the two arguing idiots. “Do you two even know why you’re fighting anymore?!” Donatello stared blankly at his brother and Amber blushed darkly.

'It’s either fight'im or fuck'im,’ Amber thought sarcastically. 'If I stop pushin'im away, I’ll wind up molestin'im!’ Donnie’s nostrils flared, finally picking the familiar non-scent emanating from the brunette avoiding his eyes. Pheromones?! His eyes wide in disbelief, he slowly turned to stare at her. Was she seriously turned on by their fighting?! The very idea was preposterous, but it would certainly explain some things!

Bearing a tray of dishes, two empty mugs, and a full carafe of coffee, Donnie crept through the door of his bedroom backward and closed the door as quietly as possible without setting anything down. He let out a sigh of relief at the accomplishment and turned to set the tray on the nightstand. He didn’t expect to see Amber sitting up in bed watching him with bleary eyes. A yelp of surprise ripped from his lungs and he rattled his cargo. “Uh…morning?” he greeted sheepishly. Amber’s initial attempt at a reply was cut off in a loud yawn she just barely managed to aim into her cleavage.

“E'ry man 'oo goes'out wi'g'mornin’ on'is lips,” she grumbled tiredly, “sh'be fried wi'is own bacon an’ buried wi'a stalk'a cel'ry through'is heart.” It took a minute for his befuddled expression to register; funny, it made sense in her head. “Mornin’.”

“Sleep well?” he asked with a smirk; while she blinked and tried to goose her mental hamster into doing its job, he unloaded everything onto the nightstand and set about filling the mugs. “Brought breakfast…and coffee.” If she’d had the energy, she would have perked up at the last word; unfortunately, she barely had the energy to keep her eyelids aloft much less recognize the bacon, eggs, and cinnamon rolls piled on the two plates.

“Brek…fus?” she asked as though she couldn’t recall what the word meant. Donatello was laughing at her, she was sure, but she didn’t have the energy to do more than blink at him; maybe after a cup of coffee…or two…or twelve…

The small desk lamp kicked on behind the changing screen and Donnie realized his error. Though he intended only to help his lover avoid injury in the dark corner, he didn’t take into account the effect of light and shadow on canvas; right before his eyes, Amber’s silhouette was cast onto the lit canvas screens with striking clarity. His cheeks scalding hot, he found himself unable to turn away.

Without realizing she was putting on a show for him, Amber wrenched open the clasp of her brassiere and let the garment fall away with a barely suppressed groan. “God, that feels better,” she mumbled aloud tempted to fling the hated contraption across the room slingshot style. She took a moment to enjoy her newfound freedom—unaware that Donatello could see her awkwardly rubbing the feeling back into one sore breast after the other, and the unavoidable response her body had to said massaging—then begrudgingly reached for the zipper of her jean shorts. Donnie choked and tore his eyes away, forcing him to focus on the blueprints scattered across his small desk. 'Don’t think about the breasts,’ he reminded himself almost frantically. 'Just ignore them - nothing there to see - and definitely no nip-NO, bad Donnie! Don’t think about the breasts!’

When Amber finally emerged from the little cubicle, clad in her oversized Knicks jersey and a pair of modest cotton sleep shorts, she found him blushing up a storm and unable to look at her. “What’s your problem?” she asked dryly, one under-groomed eyebrow arching to the heavens.

“Apparently,” he finally admitted, “I need to rethink the screens for the changing corner…canvas just doesn’t cut it.” Amber stood there staring at him for a moment, puzzling through his reply, then with a start, turned back to the cubicle. Sure enough, the outline of the desk lamp on the floor was cast on the screens. The way she saw it, she could get embarrassed—turn just as red as the genius was turning and start babbling in humiliation—or she could make things awkward. Amber being Amber, and Amber being shameless, it was obvious which she’d pick.

“Hey, bras hurt. You try wearin’ one'a those things all forkin’ day.”

After Amber’s unexpected stint in the Hashi, Donnie should have guessed he’d find her in the barracks. Standing in the open doorway of her small vacated room, he shook his head at the sight of her slumped face-down across the narrow bunk—clearly favoring sore buttocks and a stiff back. “It ain’t funny,” she grumbled into the musty mattress; huh, so that chuckle wasn’t just in his head. “My everything hurts.”

“You expected otherwise?” Donnie retorted too-innocently. “How’d it go?”

“I am never pissing that rat off again,” Amber swore vehemently, her cheeks blazing against the sheets. “He said I needed to work on my balance…then made me 'bout puke every time I got the hang of it…an’ added time when I fell…an’ I fell a lot. I can’t feel my arse.”

“You will tomorrow,” Donnie pointed out simply, strolling over to perch on the edge of the bed. Amber held her tongue, feeling completely ridiculous and sure she just made a fool of herself. A sudden—admittedly gentle—pat on the rear shot that belief to hell and sent spasms of pain wracking through her backside. “GAH, scunner!” she shrieked rolling away and clutching her hands protectively over her behind. “The fark, Dunnie?!”

“Guess you can feel it after all, huh?” he remarked without even the slightest visible sign of mischief; if she hadn’t seen his playful side many times before now, Amber might’ve been fooled.

“Well, NOW I can!” He was laughing at her—openly laughing at her!—and still, she couldn’t be mad at him.

“I just can’t help feeling something horrible’s 'bout to happen, Dee,” Amber admitted. “I mean, think about it—We’ve been dodgin’ the bullet this long, things jus’ kept getting’ worse, an’ now we fin'ly have a break—a chance to breathe! Hell,” she swore, her nose crinkled in annoyance, “if I was writing this story, this’d be when I’d randomly gank some poor sucker to force the characters’ hands!”

Sometimes she really worried him…

Clever hands roamed Amber’s clothed curves—Donnie was just getting in a few gropes while he could, Amber was sure, nothin’ wrong with that. Dextrous fingers made short work of her button-up shirt—men like boobs—then the clasp of her admittedly plain bra—it was an eyesore, and again, boobs. He nervously kept his eyes away from her naked bust, swallowing noisily—he’s tryin’ to be a gentleman, but boobs! The running internal commentary made her feel like a horny teenager sneaking off with her mum’s dirty novels.

Normally, someone requesting a large pizza delivery to a dark alley would be a red flag for any delivery driver, much less one on a particularly dorky grey scooter. Fortunately, this wasn’t just any delivery driver, and the customer was a regular. Full helmet still in place, she examined her nails as though bored with life in general.

A faint scraping noise changed everything. “Yer late, Mister Angelo,” the driver drawled into the darkness. Sure enough, Mikey hopped down from the fire escape and swaggered over to her—that was her cue. With all the seriousness of a fashion model, she leaned back on her scooter in a generic 'sexy on a motorcycle’ pose, swept her helmet off, and threw her head back to send her hair flying…only to squawk in pain. Her audience cackled with laughter as she fought to free one of her two grey-streaked braids from the helmet’s straps. Only when it became clear she was truly stuck did he lend a hand.

“Jeez, Sis,” he teased as Amber grumbled into her covered cleavage. “On a scale of meh to holy frijoles, I’d give that an eek!”

“Ya know,” Amber remarked leaning into Donnie’s embrace and swaying in time to the Ray Charles number playing, “where I’m from, folks call this sorta music 'baby-makers.” Donnie flinched, his eyes shooting open wide and locking with hers set off by a deep blush. She really shouldn’t have so much fun teasing him. “Ya know what they say about a man who plays crooner jazz durin’ work hours?”

“…uh…?"

- Critical error – illegal operation - reboot necessary. Send report to admin? -

Seeing the panic in his eyes, Amber went in for the kill with a waggled eyebrow. "Either he’s bangin’ the secretary or he’s hidin’ somethin’.”

“So you don’t wanna leave Mercy,” Amber repeated sharply, “but you’re not willin’ to fix things unless she apologizes first? Never mind that she may not even know what she did wrong?” Raph winced; when she put it like that, it sounded ridiculous. “In that case, ya got a third choice.” She tossed back the rest of her bourbon, then snapped, “Strap on a wah-bag, whine it out, an’ get over it—if ya really care about someone, ya don’t dump 'em over a pissin’ contest.”

Raph gaped at the woman sitting across from him—stunned by her unexpectedly harsh response. When he finally found his tongue, all he could manage was, “A WHAT bag?”

“When a horse’s hungry,” she explained tersely as she topped off his tumbler, “ya strap on the feedbag so it can eat. When a grown-ass man’s pouting like a toddler, you strap on his wah-bag so he can get the whinin’ out of his system.” Suddenly realizing something, she winced and turned beet red. “That wasn’t meant to sound sexual—just ignore the strap-on part.” Raph choked. “Note to self,” she added with a suspicious stare into the bottom of her glass, “bourbon’s bad for my filter.” '…and I need'a get laid before I start really embarrassin’ myself.’

Amber was back from her first tattoo removal appointment…and clearly just shy of drunk and leaning on Mercy for support. The blonde led her inebriated friend to her and Donnie’s bedroom, kicked the door open, and they disappeared inside. Gaping, Donnie followed, listening in on the hushed conversation.

“Nez-time,” Amber slurred as Mercy eased her down onto the bed, “I’m'a stay sober fer-it—tha’ wiz crap…”

“No one said it’d be easy,” Mercy reminded bluntly dragging the trashcan over by the bed for easy access. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen ya drunk—this’s hilarious.”

“’m no’ drunk,” Amber argued sourly. “’m fuggin’ blootert!” Without further ado, the wasted brunette passed out completely.

“I’m'a just pretend I know whatcha said,” the blonde grumbled at her unhearing friend.

The verdict? I wholeheartedly believe AMBER JEAN O'BRIEN is officially the weirdest, or at least the most awkward, character to come out of my head yet.

0 notes

guywithtime2kill · 7 years

Photo

Adventure Time: "You Blew It Man!" An Essay Adventure Time“You Blew It Man!”Hello everyone! I’ve been a fan of Adventure Time since its conception, and I’ve often read the thoughtful and intriguing discussions posted on this subreddit. However, I was often hesitant and nervous about positing my own opinions of this show, especially since I was shy and never quite built enough confidence to put myself out there. Now that it is all coming to an end, though, and I see just how loving, dedicated, and supportive the people here are to Adventure Time and for each other, I wanted to post something. Thank you for helping me gather the courage to speak about this crazy, unique, sprawling, imaginative, daring, silly, philosophical, emotional, hopeful, and very mathematical show. It’s a long list, and it’s a testament to this “kid’s cartoon” with all of its creativity and heart that I could use a thousand more words and still have more to say. In the ever expanding and inventive medium of television, Adventure Time proudly stands on its own as a beacon of childhood and hope.To be entirely truthful, Finn the Human is not my favorite character. He is not always interesting and entertaining; and, in his more emotionally volatile years, he can be painful to watch as he flounders in a swirling, violent vortex of relationships and heartbreak. Even at his most selfish and vulnerable, though, Finn is loyal, caring, and righteous; in the context of a coming of age epic, he makes for a great and compelling main character. His development is gradual and meaningful, and this development of his character as he matures and grows is significant enough that we observe a different Finn in each season without losing sight of his heroic heart and noble spirit. There’s the head-strong adventure-seeking child of Season 1, the more accepting and quietly emotional adolescent of Season 3, the sexually awakened and selfish teenage of Season 5, the contemplative youth of Season 6, and the insightful and intelligent young man of Season 7 and Season 8. The episodes focusing on Finn may not always be of high quality, but they all do their best to work in service of his character.The gradual growth of Finn from season to season as he enters manhood is surely impressive, but to see how he also maintains his most important characteristics while he still changes is frankly astounding. Even the best of animated main characters such as Steven Universe or Aang (not “Ung” from the movie adaptation, God help us all) from Avatar: The Last Airbender often stagnate for long periods of time or occasionally act out of character. There are definitely a few hiccups in Finn’s development, such as the return of his arm in “Breezy” (Finn still gets some great development in Season 6 and I love this episode for its handling of depression, but this arm conflict was a big missed opportunity). However, unlike with Aang or Steven, we never lose sight of Finn as a character. He always stays the one true hero of Ooo, and all I can say to that is, “Schmowzow!”Now, I want to discuss a controversial episode which not only showed Finn at one of his lowest emotional points but also hurled a blazing spear of such tremendous velocity and intense force that it impaled and scattered the entirety of Adventure Time’s fan base. This episode is Season 5’s “Frost and Fire.” I was fifteen, just starting high school, at the time. I remember Cartoon Network absolutely hyping the shit out of this new episode, the advertisements exclaiming this was an event not to be missed. Will anything happen to Finn and FP? Is Ice King going to threaten their heating relationship? Stay tuned at (insert time here) and watch the sparks fly! The commercials were probably not that cheesy and strained, but from the crude way a large portion of the fan base strived to match any of the characters into a forced romantic relationship and the poor treatment the channel later gave to its more quality shows, they might as well have been that cringe inducing. The ads were also manipulative in that they influenced many anticipated fans to believe the episode would potentially be another emotionally draining melodrama which further developed Finn and FP’s relationship into something akin to “true love.”It is perfectly understandable why fans held this view, for Cartoon Network was also manipulative in the way they advertised Season 4’s “Burning Low,” a good episode in its own right, as essentially a love triangle among Finn, PB, and FP. The episode certainly possessed romance and dramatic tension, but the focus was on Finn finally expressing his emotions to Bubblegum and the rage he feels for being so conflicted. Flame Princess’s characterization is actually rather thin, and she has very few lines of dialogue here. However, as the commercials depicted and exaggerated, the episode’s drama was genuinely engaging and the emotions brutally raw. More importantly, Finn and FP officially kissed on screen, which solidified their relationship status for many of the fans. There was an intimacy there which few shows, even those developed for adults, could capture well. In addition, Finn is compelling and human enough character that we want to see him succeed and find someone special to live his life with. For a maturing adolescent wandering through a cheerfully bleak land of isolation and sweetness, FP was someone wonderful. If anyone doubts the impact and influence “Burning Low” had on fans, the episode is recorded to have the highest ratings in the show’s entire run, right in the middle of a season with heavy episodes like “I Remember You” and “The Lich.”Of course, Adventure Time doesn’t act like most television shows and is nearly unpredictable, which directly puts it at odds with fans who want to take a more conventional and traditionally satisfying route. If television shows were like rivers with the occasional twist and turn, serenely flowing to their natural conclusions, then Adventure Time is a torrential rapid which breaks off into hundreds of smaller tributaries before pouring up a cliff side as a reverse waterfall, defying the gravity of expectations as it strives for the clouds themselves. And in the midst of ever expanding, the main river takes a moment before flowing naturally again to tumble and swirl into the violent whirlpool that is “Frost and Fire.”There are probably several reasons why this episode plummeted into controversy, but the most important one is also the easiest to identify: Finn and FP broke up over a wet dream. There’s no point denying whether what he did was truly wrong: Finn experienced a sexual awakening and exploited the insecurities of his trusting hot tempered girlfriend and a demented old soul to manipulated them into harming and potentially annihilating one another, all because he wants to get aroused. Consequently, Ice King lost his home, FP lost her only friend, and Finn utterly blew it. I remembered thinking what the Hell just happened, more so than the average episode. Why would Finn act like such a prick of a dick? In retrospect, the answer is simple: Finn is a teenager, and teenagers can do some really stupid shit. As a teenager at the time, I was too self-absorbed to understand why Finn did that shit, but I definitely thought what he and the show did was stupid. Finn is certainly a noble and heroic spirit, but he is also figuratively and literally human. He has no one like him who fully understands what he is going through and how to confront such feelings like arousal. Jake, the wonderful brother he is, simply does not comprehend this aspect of Finn. He does know about prophetic dreams and fate, though, which is why he encourages Finn to commit the deed. Therefore, Finn is essentially alone stumbling in the dark chambers of the dungeon of adolescence, and he poked some big ass monster with his sword trying to find the way out.However, adolescence is not the only reason why Finn acted this way; selfishness is another integral aspect of Finn’s character which motivates some of his actions, and it’s just prevalent enough to be more than just simply being naïve or bull headed. Finn has occasionally harmed others, usually unintentionally, in order to help himself or someone for whom he cares deeply. Unintentional or not, though, the pain is very real. Take Season 2’s “Storytelling,” for example, when Finn abuses multiple innocent animals to create a good story for Jake, or “To Cut a Woman’s Hair” when Finn tries to save Jake from a witch’s bottomless bottom by stealing and/or harassing princesses for their hair. Or how about “Another Way,” where Finn beats up anything and everything to get his foot healed and avoid his fears, or that time in “Sons of Mars” when Finn essentially killed the King of Mars out of his deep caring and tunnel vision to save Jake, or “The Lich,” where Finn steals from every princess in Ooo in order to help BILLYEEE for a highly ambiguous purpose? Better yet, what about “All the Little People,” where Finn gets a chance to play God and fiddle with the lives and relationships of tiny figurines without once questioning their own individuality?The reason Finn’s selfishness is not addressed more often is because Finn has enough of a conscience to later realize what he did was wrong and apologize for said wrong doing. These apologies were enough to patch up the problems with most of the characters he harmed. However, his crime in “Frost and Fire” cuts too deep into a very complex relationship to be forgive so easily with words. As Magusmirificus refers to, this is the point where Finn needs to stop viewing his life as a video game and treat it and the people around him with nuance and consideration. Considering Finn’s own father is Martin, a pompous dingwad who is sucked so far up his own ass that he’s his own black hole, distorting everything around while he himself is filled with nothingness, it is amazing Finn is not even more selfish. That is because Finn has friends who care about him and a brother who loves him. Finn has, as Martin puts it, “a star to revolve around.” The pain Finn feels may last for some time, but it is not forever, and as we see in Season 7, he becomes all the better of person and friend precisely due to everything he has gone through. From here on out, Finn eventually conquers his selfishness and becomes truly selfless.Not everything following “Frost and Fire” is great: Finn is too horrifically awkward to watch in “The Red Throne” considering he already tried this with PB earlier in “Too Old” (an episode I personally really like), and Flame Princess is not strong enough of a character to carry said “Red Throne” or the rather lukewarm “Earth and Water.” However, there is something beautiful in seeing Finn grow in episodes that range from very good to downright brilliant. That is because the crew is so dedicated to Finn as a character and put a lot of effort into making the arc “Frost and Fire” ignited truly work.In addition, there’s really no way to get around this episode when revisiting the show; it is too grounded in the series’ past. We have Finn’s slight selfishness as a character and his initial sexual arousal from “All the Little People” come into play. There are the prophetic dreams and Cosmic Owl from “The Final Frontier” as well as a callback to PB’s probable German roots. We have Ice King’s tragic backstory being acknowledged as Finn abuses him. And, of course, there is the collapsing relationship between FP and Finn that started from “Incendium” onwards. Likewise, the episode greatly influences the events to come that will affect Finn and his friends’ lives. Such events include Finn and FP’s breakup, the destruction of Ice King’s home, the dissolving of Finn’s demon sword due to Ice King’s antics, FP dealing with her betrayal and her subsequent transformation into a ruler who focuses on trust, Finn’s torment and anguish following the breakup, the introduction of the grass sword, the loss of Finn’s arm and the birth of Fern. Many of these plots last several seasons, even extending to the end of the series, and they all stem from the tragedy which occurs here. As suggested by “The Comet,” even the most insignificant act has consequences which go far beyond what we can see and feel. This immaculate randomness and the very real and caring individuals it encompasses is what life is all about.A major component of Adventure Time’s success and identity is its portrayal of childhood and its real sense of hop, that everything will turn out all right. However, in order to confront maturity and retain such hope, Finn, that boy adventurer in a bear hat who in some way represents all of us, has to be challenged in the face of all sorts of adversities, whether it’s candy zombies, selfish acts, the Lich, sexual awakenings, an uncaring father, isolation, or the death of a best friend and brother. If hope can survive that, through apocalypse, adolescence, and loss, then even wonders like Ooo can prosper from destruction, and a young man can have a life that is happy and truly worth living.I know that this was a long ramble which went everywhere and nowhere in particular, but I’m glad I was finally able to speak my mind on this special show. If you still hate this episode with a fiery passion or icy disdain, that is perfectly fine! If you think I’m full of it and want to set me straight, I would welcome such a conversation. To be able to discuss this show, no matter the opinion, is fun, educational, and helps me to become a better and more understanding individual. My only hope is that you give this episode another chance and try watching with a fresh perspective, for even when you become an adult, as a wise nut once said, “You never really stop growing.”Thank you.

#adventuretime #adventure time #finn #jake #ice king #Marceline #Candy Kingdom #cartoon #princess

0 notes