#I return to tumblr briefly to bring you this message | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

creativeashproductions · 4 years

Text

Subconscious Match Making // Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Kenny brings in his niece Y/N and her band to provide a demonstration of the stage presence of a band. More than happy Tarnished Poets become mentors during the process of bootcamp. Charlie’s eye is stuck on Kenny’s niece; Kenny’s so powerful he subconsciously did match making

Warning: Swearing, talk about car accident, angst, and fluff.

Words: 4.6k

A/N: The song used by my fictional band is High Hopes by the Australian band Yours Truly.

Masterlist

Being part of the audition aspect of Julie and the Phantoms was unreal, especially being young with such an opportunity. The timing couldn’t be better with the band stationed stateside for recording; Kenny had presented the offer to mentor during auditions. The capacity as a musician mentor was alien, but you would do anything for the guy you considered an uncle.

Stopping briefly at the bathroom, you encountered one of the options for Julie that Kenny had sent in the PDF file of people auditioning. As you stepped up to wash your hands, you noticed her lips moving along to the song they had been given.

“Are you okay?” You questioned turning to face the teenager no more than fifteen at the most. Her brown eyes colliding with yours unable to hide the nerves, “You’re auditioning for Kenny Ortega’s show, right?”

“Yeah. I’m Madison.” The girl spoke, holding out her hand to shake, “Are you auditioning for Carrie?”

You smiled at her question, “No.”

Julie went to answer before the glance at her watch, startled her barely getting a goodbye out before she was rushing out the door. You went back to drying your hands before heading to the room Kenny had messaged you about. It was a large room with people sitting at tables and four people on stage. All in a circle speaking quietly, you took the opportunity to settle beside Kenny and your three band members.

“Hey Kenny.” You murmured turning to the man, the myth, legend Kenny Ortega himself. The man beamed at you as he had not seen you in months due to touring.

“Y/N! Sweetheart.” Kenny spoke, taking in the differences, the bags under your eyes gone from the last time he had a video call, “You look stunning as usual.”

You chuckled at his compliment, feeling he was right; sleep was definitely better when not on a travelling bus. Late nights now found at the recording studio with the band and less stress on being hounded by fans.

“So, what do you want us to do?” You questioned glancing at the quartet on the stage each keeping their attention on each other, “Who are they?”

Kenny glanced at his colleagues ready for the day to start, “This the first time they will be performing on the stage as the band. They don’t know yet. As being their age, I’d like you to show them the dynamic we’re looking for.”

You nodded along with Lachlan, Brad and Jay. Kenny’s happy smile directed you guys for a second before turning to the stage. Huddling with your bandmates, you started throwing out song choices, one the most challenging things.

“Okay. Before we have you sing Bright, I convinced my niece to join us while they are off touring.” Kenny told the actors gesturing to the band in a huddle unbothered at the lack of listening, “Okay.”

Turning as Kenny’s voice centred towards you, the people on the stage caught sight of you all; Madison’s eyes grew. She adored your music, and not recognizing you in the bathroom, burnt her. The other guys were less familiar with the band other than Owen who knew them through Madison and Savannah.

“This is my niece Y/N along with her band members Lachlan, Brad and Jay. Tarnished Poets this is candidates for the show Charlie, Jeremy, Owen and Madison.” Kenny gestured to the two separate groups who quickly switched.

With a vast amount of experience, the small stage revamped itself with the band’s personal instruments. People held to move the stage drums to replace with Brad’s drums behind the clear plastic with quick succession as the remaining members took their places.

Your dark wash jean jacket tossed to the side of the stage mere seconds before Lachlan’s fingers started the song off with shredding on his baby pink guitar. The room melted away from your mind as the four got lost in the music.

You got the nerve to come and say

That you’re not standing in my way

When we both know

Eyes closed you moved to the fast beats feeling on the top of the world as if nothing would knock you down.

The room was quiet aside from the music enthralling the occupants as this band shocked everyone but Madison and Kenny. This was precisely how Kenny envisioned Julie and the band would be like as the room burst into noise as if it was a concert. The stage was electrifying, and the actors couldn’t sit still with big smiles and bodies moving to the beat.

Well I’ve had high hopes up til now

And I was kinda hoping.

You could be my hero

At the lull, in words, the guitars and the drums wove through the room as you flipped your hair side to side concealing the expression. The music brought a feeling euphoria to you as it always had because nothing made you feel as alive.

You never stayed in one place when you weren’t cupping the microphone singing you jammed with the others. Cleaning removing the mic from the stand you move to face Brad through the clear screen with a grin. A smooth practised twirl you found yourself by the bassist Jay delving into the lyrics once more.

You can’t take it back

With all, I’ve tried

And I know that you can’t shape me

Moving back in fluid motion Lachlan and you switched places across the stage from Jay. Lachlan began his solo ending just as you circled back to your original positions. Everyone had watched Lachlan they missed your microphone being replaced in the stand.

As the song came to an end, you ended the last note bending to the side with the stand, every member leaning over to the floor. The guitar notes faded as the room burst into applause.

“This is what I want the band to be like!” Kenny called moving to the stage you hug you, “I knew I chose the right people. Did you see how they commanded the stage? They used the entirety, exploding with energy.”

Charlie’s jaw was dropped at how great the band was, they transformed the room into a concert, and you were damn good. Owen reached over and gently pushed Charlie’s jaw back up without looking; this move alone gave Kenny insight into the dynamic between the actors.

“Can you all come up here?” You asked the four actors moving aside for them as they stationed themselves you all wandered around, “Naturally you’ve all equally spaced yourselves out. That’s good because you understand you need space to rock out, but it comes with a negative.”

Lachlan stepped forth his accent, bringing the group to surprise, “But don’t stay in the box you’ve created. The stage is yours. You’re a band so interact.”

“Don’t play the music. Become the music you play, Luke doesn’t just love music. It’s in his blood and part of his soul.” You finished squeezing the arm of Charlie, eyes fractionally widening at the solid muscle. Charlie’s eyes glued to your eyes he didn’t notice as you gently pushed the white guitar into his chest.

“Show us Luke’s bond with music.” You softly spoke, backing away from the Canadian male turning on your heel to sit with Kenny again.

Your eyes couldn’t help but return to the male with the cut off shirt, and his hair pushed up out of his face. Suspenders connected to his jeans rolled above the brown boots. Your lips parted as Madison introduced the group.

“Hi, we’re Julie and the Phantoms I hope you enjoy.” The girl spoke before the group transformed in front of the group. They were no longer actors hoping for roles, but they became the characters they desired to play.

Charlie melted into the character of Luke with ease; it was beautiful and poetic. What they didn’t know was that they were, in fact, the band.

As the music died down, you relaxed into the chair as Kenny cheered with his hands high in the air with the entire room as they bowed. Kenny’s teasing grin glanced back as he approached the stairs to the huddled youth.

“I don’t know. Can we?” Kenny spoke to the audience amused with the anticipation of the stage.

“Do it!” You called out with a grin along with the rest of Tarnished Poets keeping your eyes on Charlie. His energy intrigued you incredibly.

“Yeah you are our band.” Kenny announced changing the lives of the official cast forever. The quartet exclaimed in response clutching each other close as if they had been friends for years instead of months.

Charlie’s grin fluttered your heart as you leaned back, watching the excited group knowing you would be watching the show when it came out.

The summer breeze was serene in the quiet area outside of the beautiful city of Vancouver, Canada where filming had commenced. Scheduling was perfect with the members of Tarnished Poets breaking off for the break. Lachlan returned to his family in Perth, Australia while Brad and Jay decided on a road trip in their home state.

You had accompanied Kenny to Canada for the first part of filming moving into a small house near the set. The home quickly became the hub of the cast with the close proximation to filming, you had even given Charlie the spare key. You two incredibly close.

“So, this is where you disappear to.” The teasing voice came from behind you. Glancing over your shoulder, you met the gaze of Charlie’s hazel eyes.

He moved through the meadow to the tree you found shade under with your guitar nearby. You always had a feeling the adventurous guy would find the trail to the meadow you frequented. His forest green shirt bringing out the green of his eyes that you adored. As if you were a character in a Tumblr story, you fell for him and wondered if he felt the same.

“Sometimes I need to leave the city. I spent too much time in them.” You spoke, closing the notebook of the song you were working on. It wasn’t one you planned on using for Tarnished Poets, but instead something you hesitated on showing Kenny.

“I didn’t know you could play the guitar.” Charlie softly spoke gently, stroked the neck of the well-used guitar. Passed down from your mom who loved playing at cafes in her teens and into her early 20s.

“Probably because we perform with electric more often. Plus, I like doing vocals.” You spoke shuffling to face him, “So it took you over a month to find this meadow.”

Charlie chuckled glancing at the notebook with interest. He always wanted to know more about you from the moment he saw you.

“What are you working on?” He questioned slowly grasping the notebook in his hand. Usually, you would be shy and letting someone see an unfinished song. Still, something about Charlie never made you feel nervous.

“A song about regret over hurting someone.” You softly replied, moving to bring your knees into your chest thinking about one of the final devasting moments, “I’m kinda the female counterpart of Luke. I grew up in a small town where people had reliable jobs. I always loved music. My mom taught me to play the guitar.”

“Yeah?” Charlie smiled, wondering what a kid version of you would have been like. Your eyes raised to meet his.

“Her dream was to make a living out of her music, and she got rejected. A lot. I think she lost a part of herself when she gave up for a secure, stable job as an accountant. Didn’t mean she didn’t still love to play, so she taught me how to play as a hobby.”

“But you loved it like she did.” Charlie breathed picking up where the story would be going so he gently took your hand in his; something not unusual with you two.

“I posted videos of covers on YouTube and Lachlan saw it. He had moved to America to make his dream and closely, our band came together. We did some gigs around my hometown even making the long trips to the city.” You reminisced on the times where you were an underground band with a small following. Things went sour when you hit more immense success, “We had the opportunity for our music, and at eighteen we took it.”

Slowly you leaned into the body of Charlie relaxing as his arms encompassed you in a feeling of safety and warmth. His fingers tangling in your hair as he focused on your story.

“My parents found out, and Mom just exploded. We both said cruel things, and I left that night. We played gigs constantly, so I always pushed back, making up with her. Six months into the move, she got into a car accident.” You sighed nestling further into Charlie, “I wrote that song, but I couldn’t even finish it, but with Luke’s storyline, I think it would be perfect. I’m polishing it up to present to Kenny.”

“What’s it called?” He inquired, smiling as you shifted to lean your back against his chest to cradle the guitar in your lap.

“Unsaid Emily. My mom’s name is Emily.” Your words nearly buried under the soft notes from the guitar. Your lips opened to sing, but you didn’t have to. Charlie started it.

The emotion was raw in the air as the power in his voice brought you to tears, unable to do more than strum the guitar and harmonizing at one point. It was like Unsaid Emily was made for Charlie to sing. At that moment you knew, this was the song Luke needed to do for his mom in the show; however, it could be incorporated.

Overcome with an emotion you pushed to your knees to cup his cheeks as he trailed off the last word. The guitar keeping you from pressing your chests together to kiss you poured your feelings in the kiss. A kiss he returned with gusto.

“Whoa.” Charlie breathed, keeping his forehead connected to yours smiling as your eyelashes tickled his cheeks. Calloused fingers set the guitar aside as he tugged you into his chest as his lips drew closer.

Your lips parted as a tingle overtook your whole body as he lips caressed yours soft lightly you thought you imagined it. His mouth claimed yours in what might be the most passionate one you’ve ever had. Pulling away, you became aware your hands had flipped under his shirt with knowing.

“Thank you.” You spoke softly looking up through your eyelashes at the guy the grew as important as the band.

Charlie’s cheeks painted a soft pink set off by the hypnotizing brown of his hazel gaze as if you were his whole world. His eyes scanning all your features from the small scar in your hairline thanks to a table edge at six years old.

“For what?”

“Being you.” You replied tugging fists full of the green shirt to silence her thoughts with another fervent meeting. Yours arm coming to encircle his neck as his hands copied the move on your waist. Sitting on knees time slowed in the toe-curling kiss, he pulled away once more.

“I could kiss you forever, and it still wouldn’t be long enough.” Charlie spoke, keeping his eyes closed as his fingers pinched his skin. This was what he dreamed of, being able to hold you more than a few seconds of an embrace.

“How is this going to work? My band goes on tour when you’re at the end of filming.” You questioned nestling into his arms again. The future was scary when you both were incredibly busy with the upcoming months.

“I’ll fly over for a few weeks. See you in action.” He chuckled, pushing you away to stand up, “How about we start with dinner first?”

It seemed the universe took pity on a young couple when Charlie took you home to his family to meet. His parents and siblings being the only ones aware of the relationship. Tour came and went with Charlie, using the time before promoting JATP, attended before you flew back to Canada with him.

Being with Charlie was like breathing, necessary and beautiful. You got along with his family as he did with yours. It was remarkable how interconnected you became together in the months committed to the relationship.

“Hey.” Charlie spoke, kissing your cheek in your private home you were renting in the country of Canada. When whispers of the pandemic came around, you had flown from the house you rented in LA with a friend to home.

Charlie had had the same idea to return home to his parents’ home while you settled into a house further away from other people. Charlie walked the distance to your place, and when lockdown came into effect, the decision was, he would stay with you.

“Well hello.” You cheekily responded, resting your fingers on the sleep flush of his cheeks as the glazed look faded.

Charlie straight out of sleep was by far your favourite version of him with the genuine and raw unguarded emotions he displayed. In the nine months together, you had fallen for him swifter than Swiper from Dora could take items. Completely reciprocated on his side.

“You look happy.” Charlie murmured tracing the path from your temple to the corner of your mouth. The boy with messy hair, he had started growing it out after Julie, and the Phantoms wrapped.

“I am.” You softly spoke, shifting closer to him, “I’ve never been happier than I am tucked away from the world in your arms.”

The flush of Charlie’s cheek no longer came from the nap, but from the attention, you placed on the actor. He could feel the love radiating from your heart just by the look in your eyes.

“I’m going to be incredibly cheesy and reply that I am holding my world in my arms.” He expressed leaning over to press his lips against your forehead raptured by the honour he had at loving you.

“The next few days will be hectic.” You articulated running your hands through the thick brown hair focusing solely on his eyes—the building excitement budding within the actor.

Charlie’s lips parted to reply when his phone vibrated on the side table, “One moment. It’s Owen.”

You shifted out of the camera view per the mutual decision to keep the relationship under wraps for the time being. You absolutely knew the show would be a hit and thousand, make that hundreds of thousands, of people, would crush on the character. By keeping the relationship quiet, it would increase the fanbase because some people honestly only care about looks.

“Hey Buddy!” Charlie beamed at his fellow quarantine hair buddy with over 3,000 kilometres between each other.

“Eh! Charlie!” Owen greeted just as excited at his best friend delving into a story of the recent lego build his mom had made.

“So, the show debuts in a few days. How do you feel about it? I’m excited but also nervous. First leading role.”

“I think people will relate to the show. I mean the music is amazing, and the acting wasn’t too shabby.” Owen replied just about to open his mouth when he slammed it shut. His blue eyes narrowed together, picking up on the odd background. He had to lean closer to his phone, “Either I’m suddenly eighty years old or your definitely not at home.”

“W-what?” Charlie scoffed eyes flicking to the surroundings completely forgetting he was in his girlfriend’s home instead of his parents, “I’m at home.”

“No! We’ve chatted so many times I could draw your family’s house blueprint with my eyes closed. That is a bedroom and it ain’t in the Gillespie home.”

Charlie moaned hanging his head, “C’mon buddy. I’m at home.”

“Charles Gillespie, you have sex hair.” Owen deadpanned unamused at the obvious and quite literally horrible dishonesty from the Canadian male. Charlie’s cheeks puffed as he blew air out of his mouth and taking the ‘L’ in the situation.

“One moment.” He spoke, putting his friend on mute and setting the phone down to create a black screen. The entire short conversation you had delved back into the songbook always on your person, “Babe, Owen won’t let it go.”

“Tell him.” You replied gazing over the rim of your glasses with a smirk scarcely visible to your partner. Your full attention returned to scribbling in the book while Charlie inhaled sharply; psyching himself up.

“Okay. I’m seeing someone.” Charlie admitted sending the blonde into screaming having been suspicious. Jeremy’s wife, then girlfriend, had tried setting Charlie up with countless refusals.

“Who is it?”

“Don’t get upset. I’m dating Y/N-“

“-like Y/N from Tarnished Poets? The musician from Bootcamp that completely made us look like toddlers?” Owen demanded gasping as Charlie panned the FaceTime to the girl under the blankets, “Holy shit!”

“I don’t know how I managed to get her date, but it’s the happiest I’ve been.”

“Hey Owen.” You acknowledged the blonde drummer with a shy smile and kind eyes that he had found numerous times on set. He looked up to you along with loving the suggestions and help Brad gave him on the drums.

“How long have you been together?” Wondered Owen with the cute little smile you found endearing. You felt happy that it was Owen that had pieced it together.

“Going on ten months now-“

“-and I’m only just now finding out!” Owen exploded jittery in his seat at the pairing he had wanted to get together since the unbreakable gaze multiple times on set, “God I love the world!”

“Just don’t tell anyone, okay? We want to keep this private; you wouldn’t have been told had you not figured it out.”

“More like hounded it.” Charlie muttered under his breath, slinking his arm around your shoulders as his right hand held his phone. You slapped the bare chest of the love of your life heart fluttering at the solid muscle as it always did, “We need to get together as soon as we can.”

“I’m so done. There’s nothing to do in Oklahoma man. So that photo from Tarnished Poet’s European tour was real?” Owen recalled the picture that had crossed his Instagram For You page a few months prior.

“Yeah. I flew over for two weeks having the best time watching my girl kill it on the stage, they destroyed the stage each performance.” Charlie gushed unable to hold himself from frantically telling Owen about you unfazed by your presence.

“Why am I so single!” Owen groaned flinging his head back, “Is it the whole living with my parents at twenty? Am I not established enough?”

“Nah, you’re just too boring.” Charlie quipped thankful he was out of reach of the taller boy earning a laugh from his side. Owen snickered with a quick retort to his fellow actor.

“Well I’d stay and chat, but my phone is at 10%, and I’m too lazy to find my charger.” Owen started waving as he hung up on Charlie without waiting for a reply.

Your lips twitched that the profanity that fell from your boyfriend’s lips at the abrupt end of the call. Owen was like that in the end, living in the moment to an extent. Charlie turned on his side to tug you into his side, uncaring of your task.

“You’ve slept enough.” You chortled at the clinging boyfriend you had.

“Do you think we should tell the cast? Owen will be bursting with the secret if we don’t” queried Charlie pining his gaze on the steadily flushing cheeks with a fondness, “They wouldn’t tell. I really want to brag about my hot rocker girlfriend.”

Your hand dropped the notebook to play with his hair, “We’ll just keep the relationship to close friends and our family.”

Too bad you didn’t place a bet with Charlie because two hours after the convo with Owen your phones harmonized together. Your iPhone showing Carolynn’s cute selfie while Jeremy called Charlie.

“You’re dating Charlie!” Carolynn practically screamed into the phone, completely excited, “Owen told Jeremy, and I have wife privileges.”

“Dude! How long?”

“Near ten months.”

“Damn, we missed so many chances for double dates, but hey now I know who you kept sneaking into the apartment. Not like the smug smirk, the next day and her stiff walking didn’t speak for itself.”

“Jer!” Charlie called out mortified yet also proud that you couldn’t walk the night after. Your reaction was to Jer’s blunt statement was to bury your face in Charlie’s neck, concealing the deep blush.

The two couples conversed a couple more hours before ending in the evening for food. The same routine would continue for the next few days with alternating between the cast. The day Julie and the Phantoms dropped on Netflix, you binged it. The acting was insane and the storyline paired with the songs? Beautiful.

The issue came when Episode 8 came with the tsunami of emotions as Luke shattered himself singing Unsaid Emily.

“Oh my god.” You sniffled shakily cupping your damp cheeks in your hands, “It hurts. He’s having this cathartic release while agonizing himself. His parents can hear him singing the song.”

Charlie tugged you into his side equally moved from the cinematic beauty Kenny’s team had done. Unsaid Emily was the most emotional piece of music you had ever written in your career; Kenny had fallen in love with it. His genius mind recreating the scene of Luke singing and changing his mother’s name to Emily.

“Sh.” Charlie soothed in your ear, rubbing circles on the small of your back crying along with you, “It’s just a show.”

“Where in the hell did you pull off that level of regretful sadness? Who hurt you.” You replied, breathing shakily as the scene. Your eyes still tearing up as Emily finally got a little peace back after losing her son twenty-five years in the past.

“I took inspiration from your story, and I watched a video with a bunch of people describing the last moment with their loved ones. Add some sad music and missing my family…well this happened.” Charlie explained gently pushing your hands away to wipe your damp cheeks in a soft smile, “You created the song. It’s your work that moved so many people.”

“I provided words and a melody. You provided emotion and bridge between Luke and the audience.” You retorted leaning closer to the Canadian boy so very much in love with him.

Charlie pressed another kiss to your forehead as you tried to pull yourself together but watching Luke and Julie try to touch? That shattered you even more. Luke deserved a hug, and he can’t even get one from his crush? Extremely tragic.

“Maybe we should write a song together.” Charlie suggested quirking up one eyebrow as his green eyes spoke volumes on his feelings no words could ever match. His long fingers playing your digits.

“I have a better idea.” You grinned, “I know season two hasn’t been confirmed but what if Jer, Owen, you and Mads write songs for the band? Give an authentic aspect to your characters and band. Do it together, in pairs and alone.” You breathed straddling him to ensure you had his full attention at the suggestion that lit a light in his eyes.

“You must be on to something.” Charlie acknowledged removing his phone from his pocket to use the group chat. In a few minutes, he had exciting suggestions for the song ideas, “I love you.”

“Love you too.” You replied, sitting back as he continued planning both via the group chat and FaceTime with the others.

Kenny was a genius both on screen and at matchmaking. As evidenced with Charlie and Kenny’s niece.

Tag List (PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED! I CANNOT GUARANTEE YOU WILL BE ON THE LIST VIA POST COMMENTS!)

@safehavenmuse @siennanoelle01 @whiterose291 @mell-bell @blackhood5sos @ficrecsideblog @ifilwtmfc @deadpoolgirl23 @crappy-unicorn @sunsetcurve-h @elioelioeli0 @lovesanimals @popcrone818 @lolychu @deepsleepnat @tenaciousperfectionunknown @aunicornmademedoit @just-a-writer-here @simp4reggie @parkeret @faithiebrock01 @overlyhypedup @differentsoulrascalsalad @aesthetic-lyss @versaceapa @carleywhittaker @lostgirl219 @itsalexx21 @elllaoo4 @merxxleighann @mediocremunge @fantomlovesjuke4ever @dpaccione @oswin05 @kaylinfayezink @aberette13 @faithie-brock-gillespie01 @eharvey0218 @overlyhypedup @benstormy @auriandthepussicats @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @whothefuckstolemykeds @kcd15 @siriuswvrld @princessvader15 @xoxbloodreinaxox @heimdoodle @joshy-obx @lovesanimals @oopsiedoopsie23 @am3l1a-24 @flying-solo-without-you @jaskiers-sweetkiss @lostrandomfangirln @must-be-a-weasley-92 @jatp-holland @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @dxlanhxlland @dasexydevitt13 @ifilwtmfc @arianagrandes-things @kinda-really-lost @marinettepotterandplagg @ssprayberrythings @morgandamrose @thedarkqueenofavalon @zukoshonourr @crybabyddl @spooky-season-bitch @kcd15 @morganayennefertyrell @magnet-girl @all-in-fangirl @kinda-really-lost

#charlie gillespie imagines #charlie gillespie fanfiction #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie imagine #charlie gillespie #jatp fanfic #luke patterson imagines #caitsy and ash productions

694 notes · View notes

robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

Prompt: I don't know if you've seen this post, but I was immediately taken with the idea of Wangji and Sizhui being unknowingly blood related and finding out even later than Sizhui regaining his memories, and the upheaval it would cause in the Lans to have their Twin Jades be Wen, if you'd take inspiration from it :) over-the-misty-mountains. tumblr. com/ post/ 633693829282889728/ -🪐🦆🌌

A/N: This isn’t based on that specific idea, but hope you enjoy it anyway!

“Uncle?”

Lan Qiren looked up in surprise. Others might have difficulty parsing Lan Wangji’s emotions, but Lan Qiren had never had that issue, for better or for worse: Lan Wangji’s current tone might appear neutral on the surface but was in fact deeply distressed.

Moreover, Lan Wangji was not supposed to be here. He had been out on a night-hunt with Lan Sizhui, the two of them taking advantage of Wei Wuxian’s absence visiting the Lotus Pier to spend time with just the two of them, and they were not expected back until sometime in the afternoon the next day. And yet - here they were, both of them, coming to his door when there was less than half a shichen left before they would all retire to sleep.

That fact, Lan Wangji’s tone, and Lan Sizhui’s face – twisted into an expression of mixed shock and concern and curiosity – all indicated that something had gone amiss.

“Are you well?” Lan Qiren asked, putting aside the guqin in front of them and waving them in. “What happened to bring you back so early? Were either of you..?”

“We are unharmed, Great-Uncle,” Lan Sizhui assured him, which only meant physically.

“Wangji?” Lan Qiren asked.

Lan Wangji seated himself in front of him, Lan Sizhui following his example. “Uncle,” he said again, and his tone was – perturbed, Lan Qiren decided, rather than actively upset. That was something, at least. “I have a question.”

Lan Qiren nodded permission.

“My mother…”

Lan Qiren did not flinch, but it was a matter of self-control. He had promised himself long ago that once his nephews grew old enough to understand, he would allow them to ask any questions they wished and hold nothing back – and yet it had always been Lan Xichen who had asked, never Lan Wangji, even when Lan Qiren suspected the questions had come from Lan Wangji originally.

Although he supposed Lan Xichen, still in seclusion, was no longer an option…

(His heart hurt for his eldest nephew, so cruelly deceived and used by those he loved most. He had tried so hard to keep him from such a fate, and had been just as unsuccessful as when he’d tried to keep Lan Wangji from loving Wei Wuxian.)

“Yes?” he prompted when Lan Wangji did not continue. “What about her?”

“Was she – surnamed Wen?”

Lan Qiren blinked. “What?”

“We encountered an array during our night-hunt,” Lan Sizhui said quietly. “It was designed by some unknown ancestor with a preoccupation with bloodlines – the array could only be opened by cultivators who were blood related. We had initially planned to send a message back to the Cloud Recesses to request assistance, and yet found that…there was no impediment.”

Lan Qiren was no fool: he had known of Lan Sizhui’s origins from long before, having looked into it at once when Lan Wangji had first brought him to the Cloud Recesses as a child. And even if he didn’t, Lan Wangji’s adopted ward, who was later claimed by Wei Wuxian, shadowed lovingly by Wen Ning – he would have to be dead and stupid if he hadn’t figured out by now what Lan Sizhui’s original surname had to have been.

“Hanguang-jun’s lineage on his father’s side is well known,” Lan Sizhui continued. “And so we thought…perhaps…”

Lan Wangji’s face was carven as if in stone.

Braced for a blow.

Lan Qiren exhaled slowly.

“No,” he said, and they both looked at him, surprised. “She was not. As far as we have ever been able to determine, your mother had no living kin. If she did, I would have told you long ago and sought to contact them on your behalf, no matter who they were.”

He saw the minute relaxation in Lan Wangji’s shoulders – he had guessed his nephew’s concerns correctly, the fear of realizing that his trust had been truly breached, that the Dafan Wen had been even more cruelly abandoned than he’d thought. But then, a moment later, true puzzlement entered Lan Wangji’s eyes.

Lan Qiren cleared his throat.

“You have supposed the issue from the wrong end,” he said, and turned to look at Lan Sizhui. “The relation is not Wangji’s mother, but rather – yours.”

Lan Sizhui’s mouth dropped open.

“The matter was uncertain,” Lan Qiren said, his hands folded together. “And it was only recently, when the Ghost General returned, that I was able to confirm my suspicion…it did not seem to me to be necessary to mention it to you, as you had already been part of our family for so long. I see now that that was an error.”

One of many. He was only human, could only try his best, and yet he had made many errors, almost always as pertained to family.

“My mother was – Lan sect?” Lan Sizhui asked, puzzled. “But the family records – I didn’t think there was any recorded marriage between the Lan sect and Wen sect anywhere in the last three generations.”

Lan Wangji’s fingers tightened on his knees. “There was no marriage,” he concluded, correctly. If there had been a marriage, it would have been recorded no matter what the elders felt about it. Just as Lan Wangji’s marriage had been recorded.

“No marriage? Then how –” Lan Sizhui fell silent.

He knew, too.

“We believe that your mother was Lan Yanmei,” Lan Qiren said. “A cousin, from my own great-uncle’s line of descent. Her name is listed in the family record.” He paused briefly. “Her death is listed as taking place during the burning of the Cloud Recesses.”

She did not die then, of course, although they had – hoped. But their hope was in vain; she would live at least one more year before dying, a life in misery and despair that ended, according to a guilty Wen Ning, by her own hand. If Lan Qiren has one consolation, it was that Wen Xu preceded her to the grave.

Lan Sizhui nodded slowly, his eyes distant, but Lan Wangji looked at Lan Qiren sharply. He remembered, even if it had not yet occurred to Lan Sizhui, that Lan Sizhui’s childhood education had largely been handled by Lan Yanying, a quiet girl whose older sister had been lost in the war.

“You have always been a member of this family,” Lan Qiren told Lan Sizhui, ignoring his nephew for now. “As you would be even if you did not share a drop of our blood. Any questions you have, we will answer, but know that it does not change the degree of affection that we bear for you.”

Lan Sizhui murmured a thanks and excused himself with a salute, followed shortly by Lan Wangji.

Lan Qiren sighed, but turned back to his guqin.

He could only do what he thought was best, whether for his nephews, who he loved as sons, or those they had claimed as their own. He would make mistakes – had made terrible mistakes – but he hoped that they knew that he did it out of care.

Lan Wangji would be back to discuss it, he was sure. Or perhaps, if he were lucky, he would do what he did as a child and send Lan Xichen.

It would be good to see Lan Xichen again.

#mdzs #lan qiren #lan wangji #lan sizhui #my fic #my fics #Anonymous

216 notes · View notes

besanii · 3 years

Note

For the anon thing, I started following Shattered Mirrors before I even had a Tumblr. I just kept the masterpost open and refreshed on a daily basis. I still keep it open in one of my tabs and check it periodically to make sure I didn't miss anything accidentally. I love pretty much all of your writing, but Shattered Mirrors has a special place in my heart.

Hi nonny! Thank you for your kind words :))) Have some more SM!!

Shattered Mirrors 70

[directly precedes #26]

In the end, it is Nie Mingjue who lands the killing blow, taking off Wen Ruohan’s head with a swing of his mighty sabre. Lan Wangji watches it happen from only metres away, fending off the Qishan soldiers charging their way up the grand staircase towards the Nightless City stronghold and their king. He doesn’t register it at first, not until he looks down to see the head of Qishan’s monarch at his feet, dark eyes staring lifelessly up at him, mouth still twisted in a snarl.

It is strange, he thinks numbly as weapons clatter to the ground around him, that the once-fearsome ruler of Qishan who had been the cause of decades of grief for Gusu and its allies is now reduced to little more than a bloodied corpse separated from its head.

“You alright, Er-dianxia?” Nie Mingjue asks gruffly, shaking off the worst of the blood from his blade with a flick of his wrist before wiping it on the corpse of a Qishan soldier. “Not much to look at, is he? Still, I’d say it’s an improvement.”

“Wangji congratulates Qinghe-wang on his victory,” Lan Wangji says, bowing to Nie Mingjue as he approaches. “Wangji has heard many stories of Qinghe-wang’s prowess in battle. It is an honour to be able to witness it in person.”

Nie Mingjue waves him off with a snort. “Gusu-er-dianxia is too generous with his words. It is I who must thank Gusu for the chance to take this dog’s head from his body.”

With Wen Ruohan and both his sons dead, the Sunshot War is officially declared over, and all fighting ceases on the front lines as soon as the news spreads. The majority of the surviving troops gradually begin the journey home, but some remain behind, tasked with overseeing the dismantling of war camps, processing prisoners of war, as well as rebuilding the villages and towns affected by the fighting.

Lan Wangji is immediately recalled to Gusu on Lan Xichen’s orders. Despite his desire to help, he knows he cannot defy Imperial orders again, so he has Lan Guoyan stay behind in his place, packs his bags and sets off for the capital. Everywhere they pass on their way back to Caiyi bears the marks of war—villages burnt, orphans and widows on the streets, injured soldiers in makeshift hospitals, once-fruitful and lush fields scorched and blackened beyond recognition. It will take many years of careful management to set things right again; in the meantime, the best they can do is to clean up wherever they can and provide the support and supplies their people desperately need.

He rides for the palace as soon as they enter the city.

Ordinarily, customs dictate that returning officials and soldiers must bathe and make themselves presentable before appearing before the Emperor as a sign of respect, but Lan Wangji knows it will make no difference now whether he carries the dust and grime of the road on him or not. He dismounts hastily at the gates to the Imperial Palace, where Eunuch Yang is already waiting.

“This servant greets Er-dianxia,” he says with a low bow. Lan Wangji nods.

“Yang-zongguan.” He hands off the reins of his horse to one of the soldiers who had followed him here. “I am here to see my brother.”

“Yes, Er-dianxia,” Eunuch Yang says, holding out an arm in the direction of the main hall. “Taizi-dianxia has tasked this servant with bringing Er-dianxia to the Great Hall immediately upon his arrival.”

The Great Hall.

Lan Wangji takes a deep, calming breath.

“Then I must trouble Yang-zongguan,” he says with a curt nod.

It is almost midday by now, which means the court’s morning session should have ended a while ago—but when they arrive at the Great Hall and Lan Wangji’s presence is announced, the entire court turns their heads to look at him. Lan Xichen stands below the throne, one arm tucked behind his back and a calm, neutral expression on his face as Lan Wangji strides down the aisle dividing the civil officials from the military. Not a sound escapes their lips, but he feels their eyes on him, their censure and disapproval burning into the dirt-stained cape trailing behind him.

He sinks to his knees before the dais, and touches his forehead and hands to the floor.

“Greetings Taizi-dianxia,” he says, voice loud and clear in the hall despite the words being directed to the floor. “I ask forgiveness for not having time to make myself presentable to Taizi-dianxia before coming here today.”

Lan Xichen inclines his head in acknowledgment, but his expression does not soften.

“Huangdi is welcome back to court,” he says. “You are to be commended for your part in the war, and in the execution of the tyrant Wen Ruohan. For this, Huangshang has bestowed upon you the title Hanguang-wang. You are granted Hanguang Manor as your permanent residence, effective immediately.”

Lan Wangji exhales. The message is clear—as a prince who has come of age, Lan Wangji is no longer permitted to live within the Imperial Palace; instead, he is granted a title and a residence in the city, and is only permitted to visit the palace on official business, or when summoned. His brother, as the Crown Prince, had moved out of the Inner Palace and into the Eastern Palace when he too had come of age. Lan Wangji keeps his head lowered to the ground.

“Er-chen thanks Huangshang for his generosity,” he says. After a pause, he continues. “There is one further issue for which I must ask Huangshang and Taizi-dianxia for their forgiveness.”

A tense, pregnant pause follows. This, Lan Wangji knows, is the real reason why the court has been kept back long after the morning session has ended, the reason why he has not been permitted to rise to his feet.

“What offence has been committed that Hanguang-wang must ask for forgiveness?” Lan Xichen asks, keeping his voice carefully devoid of any tell-tale inflection.

“Replying to Taizi-dianxia,” Lan Wangji says. “While stationed at the camp in Jiangling, a messenger arrived from Yunmeng seeking aid. Even knowing there were many things suspect about both message and messenger, I abandoned my post to travel to Yunmeng without first seeking permission.”

Murmurs break out amongst the officials at his declaration. As a soldier, abandoning your post during war is an act of desertion, punishable by death. For Lan Wangji to have committed such an offence, as the commander of the Jiangling front and a member of the Imperial Family, even if he escapes execution, punishment is inevitable. All eyes shift towards Lan Xichen, still as a statue above them, looking down impassively on his younger brother prostrate before him.

“That is indeed a grave offence,” he says. “An offence punishable by death. Do you acknowledge this?”

“Yes, Taizi-dianxia.” He ignores the collective intake of breath around him. “I accept whatever punishment Huangshang and Taizi-dianxia see fit.”

“Taizi-dianxia!” A voice rings out in the hall and there’s a flurry of activity as the ranks of the military officials part to allow one of their own to kneel behind Lan Wangji in the aisle. “Hanguang-wang has indeed committed a grave offence, but this lowly official dares beg Taizi-dianxia to take into account the many great deeds Hanguang-wang has accomplished in the war against Qishan, and spare him from execution!”

And then, as though his words had broken a dam, the officials in the hall—both civil and military alike—fall to their knees and prostrate themselves before Lan Xichen.

“We beg Taizi-dianxia show mercy!”

Lan Wangji raises his head enough to meet Lan Xichen’s eyes briefly, before lowering his gaze again. “Taizi-dianxia, wrongdoings must be punished. If the Son of Heaven breaks the law, he is just as guilty as the common folk. What example would I set the people of Gusu if I shirk the consequences of my actions?”

Through all of this, Lan Xichen remains quietly listening and observing each of them in turn. He holds up a hand for silence; a hush falls over the court as they await his ruling.

“You have all made valid points,” he says, nodding his head slowly as he considers their arguments. His face gives nothing away. “Such a grave offence cannot be overlooked, of course, and due punishment must be dealt. However—” He raises his voice when it looks like the officials may protest, “—what Lin-jiangjun says is not without merit. Without Hanguang-wang’s efforts, victory against Qishan would not have been possible. With this in mind, Hanguang-wang shall be sentenced to thirty-three strikes with the disciplinary whip.”

Lan Wangji sinks to the floor, an odd calm falling over him. A public whipping is one of the lighter punishments for the crime of desertion, but a harsh one nonetheless. No one watching would think he had gotten off lightly because of his status as an Imperial Prince, especially not when it must be endured publicly. He thinks of the message still tucked away inside his robes, of the length of red ribbon resting over his heart, of the massacre left behind in Lotus Pier, and knows in his heart that he would do it all again.

“Wangji gives thanks to Huangshang and Taizi-dianxia for their benevolence.”

Notes:

Huangdi (皇弟) - Imperial Younger Brother, opposite of Huangxiong (皇兄)

Er-chen (儿臣) - Son and Subject, used by princes to refer to themselves when talking to the Emperor - in this case, LWJ is thanking his father in absentia (because LXC is representing the Emperor as Regent, thus his decisions are considered on behalf of the Emperor).

master post is here: besanii.tumblr.com/shattered-mirrors-master-post

buy me a ko-fi: ko-fi.com/besanii

#hey nonny nonny #asks #mdzs #wangxian #shattered mirrors fic #shattered mirrors au #王爷机 X 花魁羡 #my writing #prince!lwj #courtesan!wwx #lan wangji #wei wuxian #lan xichen #wei ying arc

152 notes · View notes

boop-le-snoot · 3 years

Text

masterpost ☀️ main masterlist ☀️ taglist

previously on...

We meet Lucy, we meet Samantha and her twins & Mother Nature gets a little bit mad. But on the upside - she loves Tony :)

Kind reminder that this story will have horror/thriller elements & graphic descriptions of blood, gore and all the nasty stuff associated with superhero battles described in some detail. This chapter contains some of that.

Honestly, this story is getting- uhh- 8-12 notes on Tumblr. It's got a decent following on AO3 which brings me joy because I truly do enjoy the worldbuilding to a, perhaps, guilty amount. So if you like it too - please reblog :)

The fabric of my skirt was suddenly yanked and I jumped, dropping my phone and startling out of my daze. Two big, blue eyes stared up at me, curiousity mixed with impatience in them. I crouched down to pick up my device, coming face to face with a tiny blonde girl about nine or ten years of age.

"Lucy, hi!" I squeezed out a smile at the child. She looked pale, as if she'd never seen the slightest bit of sunlight, chubby cheeks contrasted by an overall spindliness of her body. Her dress was a puffy, long-sleeved, red and white polka dotted monstrosity with at least two petticoats that made her seem bigger than she actually was. "Sorry, didn't see you there. Long day at work," despite there being a worm of anxiety crawling deeply in my chest, I heeded the warnings on the list of rules and swallowed any unease I had.

Which was a hard feat. The stairs had gotten confused and I lost ten minutes of time going back, over and over, after encountering floors "5", "8" and "19" instead of my third floor, in a five story building. The building providing extra floors shouldn't have surprised me that much but the worst was fighting with the desire to explore them, my rational brain unhelpfully supplying that if this building was truly dangerous, nobody would be living in it.

The pull was almost unnatural in its strength yet my protection charms remained unaffected. Too tired from returning to work, I decided to distract myself with my phone - and nearly ran poor little Lucy off her feet.

"You are new," she signed to me slowly, carefully observing my reaction to her using ASL.

I had been truly unsettled by the rule list, perhaps more than I wanted to admit to myself, so I spent a night wide awake brushing up my meager sign language skills. "Yes, my name is Star," I replied, not quite sure if I wanted to shake her hand or simply make myself scarce as soon as possible.

Lucy gave me a closed-lipped grin, swooshing her puffy skirts in what I perceived to be a calculated amount of shyness. "Can I play with you, please?" Her hands moved a little more rapidly as she side-eyed my apartment door.

I briefly ran a mental checklist of the contents of my fridge. "Sure," I figured that two leftover steaks in it would be more than enough for the little girl. I'd splurged and gotten four prime pieces of meat to treat myself after a hectic moving process, cooking only half of them on the first day. "Come on it. You hungry?"

The door swung open as I led Lucy in, her bright dress and pale skin standing out in the twilight of my apartment. She nodded her head seriously, looking at me from head to toe as shivers ran up and down my spine. My bag was unceremoniously dumped on the couch, my socked feet shuffling into the kitchen and beelining for the fridge.

Lucy followed me quietly, taking a seat at the dinner table and folding her thin arms atop it, expectant blue eyes following my every move. As I plated the meat and reached for the roll of paper towels, I felt like I was being examined under a microscope. Somewhere in the distance, a quiet hissing noise was beginning to rise.

Lucy politely declined the fork and knife I attempted to give her so I just set down the plate in front of her, leaving the kitchen to change out of my dusty, sweaty clothes, too tired to really worry about the loud, sloppy and wet chewing noises and low growling coming from the dining area. I decided as long as she wasn't attempting to have me for dinner, I was going to be just fine.

I found Lucy on the carpet of my living room, flipping through a fashion magazine she'd found somewhere after I was done with scavenging some sweatpants from my mostly-unpacked closet. Her blonde curls bounced as she looked up at me with another tight smile, this time looking calmer, friendlier somehow. "I like those dresses," she signed, pointing at a few pictures with models wearing ballroom gowns in all kinds of colours. "And these..." She pointed out a tiara, probably not knowing how to sign the words.

"This is a tiara," I spoke slowly, signing the last word with my hands carefully as she observed. And then a few more times, until she repeated her last sentence perfectly. "Good job, Lucy," I praised her as she beamed at me. The river of quiet, scratchy giggles never stopped as she pointed out various things and I tried to sign them to the best of my ability, Lucy not showing any signs of upset whatsoever if I couldn't get the name for something right.

After some time, it was beginning to get very dark outside and a couple of pointed glances at the clock was all it took for her to stand up and carefully dust off her skirts. "Thank you for playing with me, Star," Lucy signed excitedly. "I like you. Do you want to know a secret?" She leaned in conspirationally, bursting into my space bubble with a lack of care only a child could posess.

I nodded, not trusting my mouth whatsoever. The closer she leaned in, the more overwhelming her smell became. Her pretty dress reeked of mildew and stale water, her breath - of dried blood and something earthen, like moist soil and cold cobblestone.

Lucy's eyes widened dramatically. "If you need answers, go on to the seventh floor. Bring some warm milk and cookies, they won't bother you too much, but be careful and don't stay for too long. You look tasty," I struggled to keep up with her rapid signing, my eyes firmly trained on her. Lucy's hand carefully patted my cheek and in my frozen state, I could only wave back as she skipped to the door and unlocked it, giving me one of her closed-lipped smiles before disappearing behind it without a noise.

The lock slid shut on it's own after the girl's departure. My heart briefly jumped up into my throat, trapping my jerky inhale in-between my throat and my esophagus. Coughing, I went on to double check the door lock before scrambling for the TV remote to add some background noise to the suddenly eerily quiet apartment.

The sit-com that popped up wasn't any of the ones I knew so I sat helplessly watching unfamiliar people get themselves into more and more absurd situations as the grating noise of pre-recorded audience laughter mocked the characters actions. A sudden shriek pierced the late night stillness, followed by a sound of breaking dishes and a woman's voice tiredly chastising the miscreants.

Samantha.

I'd seen her a few times as she smoked her strong cigarettes in front of the entrance, her twins running in circles around the large pothole in the middle of the driveway. She'd been friendly enough, the dark circles under her eyes and the unkempt state of her clothes telling me more than her words, "I love them, I really do. But I just want some sleep," she rasped as she sighed and attempted to gather her two kids.

I didn't examine them too closely but on first moment's notice their eyes and teeth appeared... Wrong. Samantha had taken them inside after that, clutching a coffee thermos of a size truly impressive, and I went on my merry way, trying not to think too much of the poor, single mother and her two mutant kids. I felt a little proud, even, as she didn't just abandon them like many other people did after discovering their children had an active X-gene.

It didn't take me long to cave in and offer my help with watching the twins, Anya and Arman; one noisy weekend bled into the next and I began to genuinely feel bad for the overtired woman. Inviting the two terrors into my apartment was a choice I had made mindfully: having asked Odette about advice on hyperactive children, she had proposed a puzzle or two.

The thrifted, wooden items weren't able to hold the twins' attention for long, and Anya was the first one to begin gnawing at the hard blocks, covering the area around her in splinters. Arman was a quiet boy compared to his sister: he'd stare at the TV or at the walls, avoiding eye contact and conversation at great lengths.

My couch was jumped on, my dishes were taken out and my houseplants rearranged chaotically; it was almost as if they purposefully tried to get a rise out of me without doing any actual damage. I spent the remaining few hours of my Sunday putting things back in their places - all that pent up frustration had done wonders for the state of my apartment; it sparkled, looking cleaner than the day I moved in.

The babysitting became a somewhat regular occurrence, more often than not with me popping in for a couple of hours so Samantha could run some errands and the odd weekend when the twins came over to me so Sam could get some much-needed sleep.

She was a kind, gentle if chronically overworked woman. We clicked pretty quickly over our shared desire for comfortable stability and some fucking peace; neither I nor she had it in sights for the foreseeable future. Sam's reaction to me being a witch was a shrug and a top up to her wine glass as she pointedly looked at her daughter who was busy chewing on a door handle, leaving small, jagged marks all over the dull metal.

I just had gotten sorted with a bunch of complicated orders when the radio interrupted Eric Clapton with an emergency message and instructions to steer clear of the next few blocks over. Something had hit NYC again and Avengers had been called but nobody knew exactly what it was or when it was going to be dealt with.

As soon as I shot a text to Sam, explaining the situation, I immediately retreated to the back rooms, setting up my healing station over the noise of Odette preparing her office for visitors. For some time, I waited with baited breath, jumping at every little noise coming from the outside. The people tickled in slowly, mostly one by one and all were covered in foul-smelling sludge that evaporated with a loud hiss when the concentrated light of the UV lamp in my office touched it.

"Some kind of aliens, I think," a man with a face somewhere between a human and a hedgehog told me, wincing as he retracted his spikes back into his skin. "There's a hole- a portal, right on a crossroads and there's these things coming out. They kinda look like dragons, or flying snakes maybe," the more light breached the surface of his skin, the more relaxed he became. "The Sorcerer and the Witch are trying to close the portal, unsuccessfully might I add, and the muscle is just," he paused, scratching his chin. "Just killin' 'em, I guess."

I nodded enthusiastically, prompting him to continue to rely the state of the affairs as I applied the thick, viscous ointment on a gash on his leg. "It's hammer and Frisbee time," I mumbled to myself sarcastically.

"Yep," the man popped the 'p'. "Most of us are trying to keep the creatures contained to that one block. I saw Iron Man blasting off some of the creatures off of some of my friends," the last sentence contained a great deal of puzzlement. "Though you won't be seeing much of us this time. These things... They're vicious. They've got claws the size of my foot. A lot of us are going to die where they gut us," the sentence was spoken so matter-of-factly, my hands paused on the man's leg, bringing my eyes to his unblinking dots of black.

"What do you mean?" I swallowed in an attempt to chase away the dry, rough feeling in my throat.

"Those beasts... They're smart. One of my friends - she's a... Telepath of sorts... Says they're an intelligent hivemind," the man's broad, warm palm closed over mine. "The beasts leave only the ones that won't get help in time. They can smell death from a mile away. That's how they hunt," his voice was gentle, soothing over the sudden ringing of my ears.

"I..." My mind stuttered, a sticky ball of anxiety, fear and sorrow gathering up in my chest. "I'm so sorry. I..."

"We know what we're doing, out there, we know the risks," his smile was tight and full of grief. "You're doing your part here, makin' sure our babies have parents. We're out there makin' sure our streets are safe. Such is life," the grin acceptance in his pitch-black, small eyes set fire to the tension in my chest.

I exploded, inside out. The sudden burst of decisive, clear-headed energy made the objects around me vibrate, metal resonated my sorrow and my determination, the wood heated up with the force of Mother Nature itself responding to an act of cruelty bestowed upon her creations.

As soon as the man's bandage was finished and he headed out, I grabbed my old, ratty backpack, hastily shoving things into it in a semi-organized fashion. Clean linen strips, bandages, some premade elixirs and draughts, a few jars of salves, carefully tucked in-between the cloth. As I knocked on the door of Odette's office to retrieve the last few items I would need for my reckless journey, the door handle turned on its own, letting me observe her tending a woman who's skin was peeled off most of her back.

"Can't you see I'm..." Odette exclaimed, throwing her free hand towards the door, which did not budge. She turned on her heel, eyes widening when she observed my wide, solid stance in the doorway, lips immediately curling into a small grin. "I understand. Take what you need. It's not wise to resist Her call," the words were spoken carefully, as if not to spook me, before Odette resumed her delicate work of putting the injured woman back together.

Without a word, I finished packing and left through the front door, not needing more than my scarf and my light sweater to keep me from the freezing gusts of wind. My very core was the centrefold of an active volcano, bursting with white-hot bursts of energy as I approached the injured people on my way towards the terrible screeching noise.

This far out, most of the injured were able to make it to Odette's or to the other healer, who's name I had found out only then, but they were thankful for the water I offered them. Not once did they question me: my star-patterned scarf, out of all things, had become somewhat of a symbol for me among the different folk. Mutants approached me fearlessly, giving generous updates on the direction of the battle and the hotspots I probably should have avoided.

The louder the screeching noises grew, the more people needed my help. The stops took longer, my painkillers were becoming a short supply, the main relief provided by a couple of mid-range, mid-strength energy manipulating mutants that began to tail me after I offered to patch them up in exchange for help with the injured.

It was as if I instinctually knew where I was most needed, my decisions were seldom my own. Me and the two mutants bid a haste goodbye after loading up their truck with the injured, although deep inside, I knew that the amount of corpses, bloody and messy, littering the streets had begun to get to them. In a normal state of mind, I would not have been able to look at them either: then, each mangled, broken body only added fuel to the fire within me.

As I stepped foot in an intersection where someone had piled up bent and broken cars, the shadow flying over my head shrieked, taking a fluid nose dive towards another, smaller flying figure. I dropped flat on the ground, the contents of my backpack clattering, watching the small figure in the sky blast the beast with an off-blue ray of concentrated energy. As soon as the creature began it's graceless drop, Tony turned around and flew off, looking none worse for wear.

At the very centre of my chest, a faint feeling of fondness and hope blossomed into tiny little flowers that soothed the aching sorrow for the dead. Each warcry of the beasts from another world fed the anger, the anguish Gaia seemed to exhibit at their intrusion; the revolt I felt upon laying my eyes on one of them made me sweat, hands clenching into fists until my skin crawled under my nails.

The last part of me that wanted to pretend I was in control was gone; my soft, untrained body a mere vessel for a force stronger than me, stronger than anything. Noise around me grew in pitch, some of the creatures circling around my hiding spot cluelessly, aimlessly, as if they could not find what they were looking for.

I moved spots in a daring series of runs, bringing me almost to the portal itself, and the hellish lizards dived into my previous sanctuary, shattering the concrete and the wood of the house under the amused black stares of glassless windows.

The realization set it - they could not see me. Or perceive me properly, I deduced, inspecting the creatures for any sort of orifice except for their mouths and finding them to lack eyes and ears.

My own stare fell onto Sorcerer Supreme, floating amongst a variety of moving golden circles; I was close enough to hear him talking in a language I did not know. Wanda was hovering nearby, holding up a wall of red energy, protecting the chanting sorcerer.

A united screech invoked a shiver from every living being within it's reach, the creatures circling the portal for the last time before flying off in haphazard directions as the portal slowly began to close. I was prepared to cheer, yet, something stopped me; not a second later, the circles surrounding Stephen dimmed as the man himself jumped up onto his feet in alarm, screaming something unintelligible at the Scarlet Witch.

The overturned food cart I was hiding behind slowly began to creep towards the portal. A couple of rats, a pigeon - the animals flew in front of my eyes, rapidly, as they struggled against the unseen force. My hands grasped the handlebars of the cart in vain, I struggled against the force, seeing a moment of confusion on Wanda's face as I floated- no, rocketed past her as Stephen's golden magic forcefully pushed her out of the portal's reach.

It's size no bigger than a doorway, the vile thing blew cold, dry air under my sweater, muffling Stephen's cursing as we briefly collided during our violent expulsion into another world.

And then, there was darkness.

Taglist! @couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins2 @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @xoxabs88xox

#practical alchemy #bun writes #tony stark x reader #stephen strange x reader #tony stark x reader x stephen strange #stephen strange x reader x tony stark

39 notes · View notes

kittasune · 3 years

Text

“winter warmth”

“WINTER WARMTH”

📘┊pairing. akaashi keiji x gn!reader

🔖┊tags. post-time skip, fluff, co-worker friends to lovers, mutual pinning, holidays, seasons abloom

📚┊wc. 4.3k

📖┊note. I wrote this for akaashi’s birthday but i’ve been meaning to write this fic for a long time now. well, here’s my first fic posted on tumblr! feel free to message me your thoughts! i plan to make this an on-going series of small one-shots so… please expect more in the future.

The biting cold that accompanies the change in seasons looms over the metropolitan city of Tokyo, the city where Akaasji Keiji was born, where his career is, and most importantly; where the love of his life is – the International Library of Children’s Literature. Literature has always been one of Akaashi’s passions to pursue as it opens endless doors of opportunities that could grant him success in the future. The majority of his stress stems from his work,

“Having a job and a stable career makes you successful!”

“You should have a steady income first before you pursue your passions so you have a stable foundation to fall back on just in case things don’t work out, Akaashi-san.”

He can hear the string of back-handed compliments and empty advice he’s received from co-workers and relatives alike echo in the back of his mind, clouding his thoughts and possible future realities he wishes to envision. Literature is one of his hobbies that became his career due to his love that caused him to become attached. Manga, novels, plays, poetry, and even textbooks sometimes caught Akaashi’s attention and he couldn’t help but consume the knowledge and navigate the uncharted waters that flow through the pages in inky waves. The beautiful thought of literature that had once been untouched and pure in Akaashi’s child-like wondrous mind has now become something as lifeless as house-hold chores to check off a list.

Now, as he sits at his desk in his office cubicle eying the unsurmountable manga panels that consume more than half of his desk with their shiny patent ink and crisp lines framing the edges of each page – he can’t help but sigh.

“You know, I’ve always been told that it’s bad luck to sigh.” Akaashi perked up at the sound of ceramic hitting the surface of his white acrylic desk. He looks up to see you holding a matching mug brimming with the café nectar that he so desperately needs.

“Is that so? You sound so sure of yourself considering that your break ended 5 minutes ago.” Akaashi hid his face in his hands to mask the upturned corners of his lips pulling into a smirk.

“Thank you for the coffee, I know that I’ll need it considering that Hide x Seek’s 100th Chapter is going to be released in this edition of Shonen Jump.”

“I heard that from Udai-san, he seemed so excited that he wanted to make this chapter special by making it holiday-themed with all the holidays being piled all together at the end of the year.” You said with a look of contemplation as you sipped the burning liquid in your mug.

“Have you read Hide x Seek before?” Akaashi leans back in his office chair and sets his gaze upon you while placing the cup next to his lips, the creaky sound apparent from the quality of wornness and evidence of sleepless nights he’s spent hunched over reviewing and editing the work assigned to him.

“I think I’ve read it once before, it’s the one where the high school students hide from an intruder but they don’t know who’s the intruder… but it ends up being the ghost of a former student that seeks to kill out of revenge and spite the higher-ups who have wronged her, right?” You said while fixating your gaze to the edge of his desk as if to recall the synopsis from memory, your coffee mug was left forgotten on Akaashi’s desk as you appear lost in your thoughts.

“Not quite, you just said the plot summary of Peek-a-boo? not Hide x Seek.”

Akaashi said while looking pointedly at your mug on his desk that would surely leave a faint circle as he knows you tend to haphazardly spill its contents as you “vigorously” stir your coffee to ensure that all additives are well-mixed. He recalls asking as to why making a vortex in a cup smaller than his hand is necessary, to which, you responded,

“I need everyone to get along harmoniously and seamlessly blend with one another, imagine drinking a cup of coffee that you’ve prepared and longed for only for it to have lumps and chunks at the bottom, no-thank-you!”

The dim grimace on your face spoke volumes of a less-than-happy experience you must have gone through and as a result, the chaotic meticulousness of your coffee shenanigans intrigued Akaashi to befriend you.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice you flush red at the realization that you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of your co-worker, friend, and “potential suitor” as your friend lightly put as a shallow jab at your private love-life *hint – it’s practically non-existent.

You sigh. “Maybe I’ll give Hide x Seek a read during a vacation or something.” You mumble the words, cursing yourself for looking like a fool in front of your longtime friend, Akaashi Keiji.

The image of you grumbling and lamenting in front of Akaashi mirrors a panel sitting on his desk that has him fondly reminiscing the same image of you from last spring about how you had no one to accompany you to the Hanami Festival and so, he acquiesced to your invitation thus, establishing a tradition in your friendly relationship.

“I think it would be best to return to your desk, y/n, wouldn’t want to lose the privilege of seeing you every day and being the object of your admiration.” Akaashi propped himself up on his desk, resting his head on his forearms in a lazy slouch peering up at you with one eyebrow raised and a ghost of a smile playing upon his lips.

“You should really stop flirting with me at work, Akaashi. One of these days I might get the wrong idea and think you’re into me or something…” You chastise him while walking back to your desk which is conveniently next to Akaashi’s.

“I’m hopelessly enamored at the thought of you and it frightens me to think of a day where you’ll be missing from my side…” Akaashi thought as he proceeded to leaf through the panels laid out strategically on his desk. He looked over at you as you started to situate yourself with your work and said, “I wouldn’t sigh if I were you, I heard that if you sigh it brings you bad luck.”

“Stop mocking me and go do your work!”

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

The clock struck at 5:00 P.M., then at 6:00 P.M., just right before the clock struck at 7:00 P.M. you blearily glance at the time blaring in the corner of your monitor and drift your eyes to the decorative hourglass sitting on your desk. The intricate gold timepiece hid tucked away in the corner of your desk hiding behind a framed picture of you and Akaashi posed in front of a bookstore where a work-related event took place. A faint memory surfaces from the back of your subconscious from earlier this year.

“Akaashi, why do you have a plastic apple on your desk?” You glare at the object as a red plastic apple seems so peculiar to associate with Akaashi, in your mind at least, so you questioned its purpose. Is it for sentimental reasons? Are apples his favorite type of fruit? Do apples have an artistic appeal or is it just a trend?

“It’s a tomato.” He responded, not once looking up to acknowledge your effort to engage in conversation. As Akaashi is seemingly focused on the task at hand, you further prodded with your innocent questions wanting his attention so you could lose yourself in the oceans that reside in his deep blue eyes.

“Then, why do you have a tomato on your desk?”

“Keeps me focused on the task at hand. Have you heard of the Pomodoro technique before, y/n?” Akaashi still focused on his work while you continued questioning.

“The time management one, right? I think I’ve read about it somewhere before if I’m being honest…” You lose yourself in your thoughts as you attempted to recall the correct definition from an online blog you briefly glanced at.

“Then you should know about how it helps you complete your work in a timely manner while balancing the efficacy and quality of the work produced.” Akaashi stopped in his ministrations and averts his attention to the now glaringly pointless object occupying space on his desk that was a prize Bokuto won at the Momiji-gari festival they attended together last October.

“Yes, that’s the time management aspect after all.”

“If I may then, why is it you stress about not having enough seconds in a minute, enough minutes in an hour, and not enough hours in a day to complete your work and yet have all the time to talk to me well over your allotted break time?” he swivels around in his chair to face you, steel blue eyes locked in a heated rage-ridden gaze with yours.

Too stunned to talk from the blunt harshness of his words, you reply, “Quite snappy today are we? At least I know now you pay attention when I mindlessly make a fuss about my workload.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you with my statement, I was going for light-hearted banter at best… I guess I can blame it on the weather. The heatwave must be getting the better of me.” Akaashi said while pulling at his necktie, an excuse to keep his hands preoccupied and mind distracted in avoidance from the awkward silence beginning to build between the two of you.

“Tell me about it, I never really liked summer as a season or the heat.” You crinkle your upturned nose in an act of disdain as you face the glass windows doing nothing to shield you from the overbearing sunlight pouring into the office.

“With summer comes the sun, with the sun comes light, and with light comes warmth,” Akaashi says so matter-of-factly that makes you wonder what’s his favorite holiday. He interrupts your train of thought by asking, “What’s your favorite holiday, y/n- san?”

“Winter, I like the snow. Or more of what snow symbolizes…” you trail off towards the end of your sentence deep in thought.

“Usually people like winter because of the holidays and spending time with their loved ones under a kotatsu. What’s so enchanting about snow? When you touch it, it just melts… not to mention it’s cold.” Akaashi looks over at you inquisitively that could almost be mistaken for scrutiny if a stranger were to eavesdrop between you two.

“If you are out in the first snowfall of the season with someone you like, true love will blossom between you.” You recite from memory what the old woman who owned the corner store grocery near your place told you during your times as a highschooler.

“Besides love, if you make a wish when the first snow blankets the city your wish will come true.” You swing your legs to-and-fro underneath your desk covered from the public’s eye but Akaashi can tell it’s one of your habits you do when you’re excited. The sparkle in your eye accompanied by the ecstatic hand gestures would also giveaway your feelings of excitement but Akaashi knows better. You stop in your motions and jerk towards him almost like you’ve had an epiphany, the sparkle in your eye flashed again mimicking that of a light-bulb going off.

“Snow also signifies that all lies will be forgotten, isn’t that refreshing? The thought of new beginnings with the first snow sounds so romantic! I wish I had someone to enjoy it with…” You take a chance and glance at Akaashi to gauge his reaction to your statement, he already beat your intentions by turning back to face his desk at lightning speed so you wouldn’t see the faint flush of red on his cheeks that bloomed after your profession of love for snow. He didn’t want you to know he was flustered because of the way you turned to him and uttered the words ‘besides love,’ to his face, and the realization that he was going to respond with a simple, ‘hm?’ had him leaning further into his desk in embarrassment.

“Akaashi, what’s your favorite season? You know mine and my reason now.”

“Same as you, I like winter.”

“Why?”

“The holidays.”

“Boring!”

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

You shake your head in strong efforts to clear the fog that clouded your mind during that flashback.

“Nodding off so soon?” Akaashi’s voice startled you back to reality as you whip your head towards him.

“It’s almost 7:00, we were supposed to get off work an hour ago like someone said..” you fix your steely gaze on his figure hoping he could feel the mock-resentment radiating off you in waves. “I hope we get overtime pay for this as this isn’t the first time this has happened.” You lean against the back of your chair raising your arms above your head in a half-stretch with valiant efforts to hear the satisfying pop of your back.

“I made no promises, I was going to tell you this when we got off but Udai-san said we have the day-off tomorrow. The reason behind it ‘to reward you guys for your dedication to the company’ were his exact words.” Akaashi said as he began to clear his desk wanting to get to his apartment as soon as possible to sleep. This week took more of a toll on him than he would like to admit, the endless piles of work, deadlines to meet, and the cold that accompanied the winter months were taking a toll on him. The holiday season’s cold seeped into the bitterness of Akaashi’s hidden emotions, like an ice pick scratching the surface of Akaashi’s lonesome facade he tried to hide under cool indifference. In stark contrast, you acted as sunshine that brought the warmth that he desired to thaw his endless winters.

“Done with your work, too? Let’s go home.” His sunshine that spread light and illuminated the darkness that clouds his mind.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

The walk from the subway station to the shared apartment complex was only a 10-minute walk but tonight it seemed never-ending to Akaashi. The time was almost 8:00 and the streets seemed less deserted than usual. The city lights glimmer looked dim in comparison to past nights and the mood almost felt too solemn with the holidays around the corner. Akaashi was lost in his thoughts that he failed to notice the crosswalk light flickered to red signaling the oncoming traffic to cross the road, if it wasn’t for you pulling him by the back of his jacket… he ignores the thought that briefly filters across his mind.

“Akaashi, are you alright? I wasn’t going to mention it but you’ve seemed more aloof than usual.” You said while gripping onto the back of his jacket tightly almost grasping him in a silent plea.

“I’m fine.” He responds curtly while maneuvering his tall frame in an off-handed demeanor that cues for you to let-go. This action only fuels your act of defiance to pull him harder in your direction causing your bodies to collide clumsily disrupting the systematic ebb-and-flow that is pedestrian traffic. As you and Akaashi apologize and wait for the crosswalk sign to turn green, you can’t help but laugh which makes Akaashi let-out a small chuckle as he realizes what a commotion your exchange must have looked like.

“We make for entertaining crowd spectacles,” He spoke softly through a genuine small smile that washed over his handsome features that could have rivaled ‘any top celebrity that calls themselves a pretty boy,’ in your words, not his. The cold weather combined with the hotness radiating from his silent chuckles caused a light layer of condensation to form on his glasses’ lenses. As the haze rendered him sightless, he took off his glasses, pulled out his handkerchief he kept tucked away in his inner jacket pocket, and proceeded to clean his square frames. You took this opportunity to admire the man before you. His brown hair fell gracefully in a light tousled manner as a result of his hands raking through them from stress. Your gaze shifted to his hands, his hands easily engulfed the metal frames balancing delicately in between his slender fingers that looked natural holding the awkward position for prolonged periods of time. Your eyes flit over his face that was normally impassive and difficult to read, now his cool indifference shifted to a look of frustration. The furrow of his thick brows and the faint vertical lines creasing in the center of his eyebrows almost made Akaashi look younger.

‘He looks like a petulant child being told what to do’ you mused to yourself. When he felt content with the cleanliness of his glasses, Akaashi scanned his surroundings to see where you led him to. He realizes that you stopped right in front of the steps to his favorite place in all of Tokyo – the International Library of Children’s Literature. Even with the library being closed as evident by the lack of people and dimmed lights, he still found this place breathtaking.

“The architecture of this library looks similar to the Palace of Versailles don’t you think so, Akaashi? That was one of my first impressions when you first brought me here, I just forgot about it but remembered after seeing this place again” You said as you stared in awe at the smooth concrete walls and tall glass windows with lattice fixtures intricately lining the tall double doors that greeted over 1,000 visitors each day.

“The International Library of Children’s Literature, originally called the Imperial Library, was constructed by the Tokyo Metropolitan Government under the Meiji era in 1906. The artistic movement that inspired the architect was the Renaissance movement which explains the Western-like elements incorporated into the building’s design.” Akaashi recited from memory and turned to you after he finished his statement only to find you already facing him, eyes widened and mouth agape in surprise. After seeing your reaction he turns back to the building and says in a soft whisper, “This place brings back fond memories,” while unconsciously playing with his hands, fingers intertwining with one another in a playful open and close. He can feel your gaze openly assessing his figure standing awkwardly in the library’s pathway, he knows that you want the answers as to why he’s acting less like his “usual” self. You find yourself confused by Akaashi’s paradoxical behavior, sometimes he’s willing to let small cracks appear in his otherwise smooth facade of coolness, and other times he shrugs you off in efforts to maintain his cool indifference. His true emotions are caught and given to you in minuscule pieces and this frustrates you as you wish to be with the man that’s always beside you and occupies your mind all the time.

Akaashi can’t help but feel the subtle self-conscious feeling starting to arise after pondering how out of place you and him look at the moment, two people standing alone in front of a closed library engaged in a heated silent exchange. His heart sank when he realized that you two could almost be mistaken as a couple with the way the both of you look now, he wishes for this to be real, his wish is to be with you. Akaashi wishes for you to know his true feelings and declare his love for you and yet, he finds himself biting his lips to silence himself in spite of his friends saying he has a chance of being with you.

The shuffling of feet is heard as you shift your weight from right-to-left and your avoidance of all eye-contact are all tall tale signs of your unsureness, your actions break Akaashi from his own thoughts as he raises his head to see you standing closer to him than earlier.

‘You’re so close I could kiss you right now.’ He wants to say, even in a playful manner but is too afraid to be caught expressing his true feelings even through teasing comments.

“Akaashi, what are you thinking about right now?” You ask in a futile attempt for him to confide in you what thoughts occupy his brain that’s causing him to both distance himself from you emotionally.

Just as Akaashi begins to open his mouth he’s interrupted by an abrupt shout that causes the both of you to stop all conversation.

“Look mom, it’s snowing!”

Childlike excitement blanketed the distanced onlookers frolicking the crosswalks as snowflakes kissed the cherry red noses of daily commuters and people doing last-minute gift shopping. You and Akaashi fix your gazes up to the dark depths of the night sky now obstructed by the white flurries of snow clouds now hovering over all of Tokyo.

‘It’s now or never,” Akaashi thinks to himself, ‘if I can’t do it now, when will I ever get the chance again?’ Akaashi takes a deep inhale and closes his eyes to bask in the brisk coolness the winter air has brought with the changing of seasons.

“I think about how seasons shift out in a cycle of four and I find myself not being able to cope with each change.” He breathes out finally and continues, you stare at him in silent apprehension while anticipating each word.

“Seasons change, people change, and yet I find myself coming back to you… meeting in the same place where we first met each other. Fate has a funny way of telling us that we’re supposed to be together. Coincidence has a hand in pushing us together hinting that we’re meant to be. Destiny is telling me that you’re the one but, choice whispers it’s harsh words of reality only permissible when conditions are met that echoes in my thoughtless mind every sleepless night.” Akaashi locks your eyes in a steady gaze, your eyes widened in shock while his eyes portray a deep-rooted passion now surfacing after being hidden for so long.

“Our love is blossoming like the sakura trees in the spring, a love that mirrors the perennial endless summer hydrangeas in the courtyard in front of our apartment building. A love in which I catch myself falling for you like the leaves during the autumnal months. A love that engulfs me in the warmth of the fire, with its ember flicks illuminating your faint silhouette as we embrace each other in the moonlight. Falling in love with you was experiencing a life I have not lived before, for the first time I welcomed the uncertainty, my fears, my doubts never once clouded my mind. You are my moonlight that illuminates my path in the inky depths of nightfall. My starlight when I look to the sky brimming with untold stories in your constellations that guide me back to you. I want to be with you during the first snowfall of each winter. I want to experience each change of the seasons with you, I want you by my side to accompany me as we live our lives – I wish to be together with you.”

Akaashi finishes his confession of true feelings for you and a sense of relief washes over him as a weight has been lifted from his chest. Akaashi starts fiddling with a loose thread in his pockets starting to feel anxious at the sight of you as he begins to anticipate your response since you haven’t spoken since it started snowing. The feeling of temporary relief was now replaced with a sense of dread fueled by his self-doubts and the thought of rejection, he averts his gaze downward to avoid meeting your eyes.

Akaashi stayed cemented in his place with no signs of moving, so you decided to close the distance between you two. Feeling bolder after Akaashi’s profession as you were reeling from the excitement of seeing snow paired with your feelings being returned by the one you love, you grab his jacket sleeve to signal for him to remove his hand from his pocket and slowly begin to intertwine hands. He shifts his gaze from your interlocked hands to look at you, as he scans your face to gauge your reaction, he finds himself surprised by the beaming smile matching your bright energy and warmth that rivals the sun during the summer months. Your actions and the bright reaction is all the confirmation he needs to know if you reciprocate his feelings so he steers you, hands intertwined, in the direction of your shared apartment complex.

“What about your wish, did it come true?” Akaashi asks while he notices you started to swing your joined hands unconsciously, ‘probably out of habit,’ he thinks to himself silently while a smile threatens to breach his lips. You stop him and take his other-hand so now he’s facing you, you want his full attention as now, it’s your turn to confess.

“My wish was always to be with you, you’re my happiness and the reason for me to continue to live and grow. When I’m with you I’m at my happiest and your constant presence has always been comforting. The sureness in your voice and actions speak volumes about your reliability and the love you have for others. My wish was for you to see the light in yourself and for you to realize that you are loved and needed, not just I think this way but your friends Bokuto, Kuroo, Kenma, and everyone else you’ve met and encountered will agree with me on this point I’m trying to make. I love you, Akaashi Keiji and I wish to be with you… if you’d let me.”

Compared to the shuffling of footsteps and avoidance of eye-contact from earlier that hinted towards your unsureness, Akaashi can see the confidence in your stance and actions as you grasp onto his hands, the unwavering sureness you exude while maintaining eye-contact has Akaashi falling in love with you over again. The brightness in your eyes and cheery playfulness reminds him of the reasons he fell for you in the first place and he senses that he will keep finding reasons to fall in love with you over and over again.

“Let’s go home now, sunshine. I’m afraid that your warmth will melt the winter snow.”

68 notes · View notes

kaorukeehl · 3 years

Text

Smut story. So adults.

I tried posting this with the audio but the audio is marked so it won't show up.

The audio had inspired this story. It's an audio where Red records an audio with Blue sucking him off to help. Then Red ends up fucking his face.

This story is events of what could have happened after this had happened.

Back for more.

It wasn't long after Blue, Underswap Sans, had left the recording studio. He had managed to make it home fairly quickly. He flops down onto his bed; glad that his brother is probably at Muffets. He glances around the room in an attempt to distract himself. His magic humming from excitement and glowing softly. He shifts rubbing his legs together as a strange feeling develops down there. He finds the feeling to be something he's never experience before. He has a pretty good idea at what it could possibly be though.

It's been bugging him since what happened back at the recording studio.

The memory of Red, Underfell Sans, taking control to ravage his mouth sent a shiver down his spine.

Blue groans as his magic in his pelvis seems to react to the shiver. He covers his eyes not daring to think about the magic down there. He tries thinking about his brother shirtless... Though it only ends up being pushed aside by Red. He tries thinking about puzzles he could do... He thinks of one with a spike plate for the other to walk across avoiding the spikes...Only the spikes on a spike plate reminds him of Reds teeth. He sits up, throwing his arm to the side, with a frustrated noise. His magic forms and demands attention. "It's useless isn't it?" He wonders out loud to himself. He uncovers his eyes and glances down to where his magic has formed. "I... I want to record with him again." He finally admits feeling like part of the weight on him has been lifted. He reaches down and gently pets his magic through his pants. He groans closing his eyes letting the images come to him.

Red pounding into his mouth as he takes control. How he manhandled him after being unable to hold back any longer. His fingertips lightly scraping against his skull.

Blues hand moves to slip under his pants. He strokes his magic directly as thoughts on Red keep swirling in his head.

Then imagination kicks in.

As Blues fingers start to tease the entrance he had created, his mind made up fantasies.

Imaginary Red was leaning over Blue. He is the one with his hand down Blues pants touching him. He leans over and whispers against the side of Blues skull. "You want this? You want my fingers in you?" He teases causing Blue to groan and arch into the touches.

"Yes! I want you to touch me all over!" Blue responds to the imaginary Red in a pleading tone.

"Hehehehe." Imaginary Red chuckles at this pulling back to give Blue a big sharp toothed grin. "You're a naughty boy. Aren't you? Well I guess I can give you more."

As Blue slips two fingers inside of himself he can imagine Reds fingers instead. He arches his back closing his eyes as he moans. "Oh! Yes! Red!"

"That's right." Imaginary Red purrs softly. "You love this."

Blue begins spreading his fingers still imagining Red doing it instead. His eyes shut with his blue magic tongue hanging out. He feels his face warm up with a magical blush.

"You're so cute. Blushing for me like that." Imaginary Red tells Blue as he continues to stretch out the others entrance. "I know how badly you want my cock inside of you."

Blue suddenly hits a sweet spot inside of himself. He moans louder and trembles a little from the pleasure.

"Yes. That's it." Imaginary Red strokes that sweet spot that was found. "I'm going to make you mine."

"Please." Blue pants shifting his hips from the pleasure of touching that spot. "Please make me yours Red." He pleads and he can clearly imagine the red cock Red has; seeing as how he had sucked him off for the sake of helping with an audio recording.

"That's what I like to hear Blue." Imaginary Red kisses Blues cheek as the other groans. He adds another finger as soon as Blue adds another. "You're taking this so well sweetheart. You make me wanna go all night with you."

"Red." Blue whines feeling like he's getting close as his hips shake even more.

Imaginary Red chuckles and presses his body against Blues own. "Oh? You're going to cum already? I haven't even put it in yet sweetheart." He seems to enjoy the sound Blue makes as he brushes against the sweet spot. "I suppose I shouldn't keep you waiting." He lines his cock up.

Blue snaps back to reality just as he cums on his own fingers. He pulls his fingers away from his pussy and he lays there panting. He tries to catch his breath as he stays laying there. He sits up and realizes that he had made a mess that makes him sigh. He should probably clean up before his brother gets home. He gets up and cleans up only for his phone to buzz. He checks it and finds a message from Red. His soul pounds in his rib cage as he wonders if Red is feeling the same longing he is. He quickly opens the message to see.

Hey. I'm not sure if I said this. But thanks for helping me out. The audio is a huge hit. The biggest hit I've had with these things. It's too bad you don't want to come back to help me again.

As soon as he reads that Blue drops his phone and takes off. He hurries back to where Red is and skids to a stop right outside the others home. He isn't quite sure how to even approach this.

Especially after telling Red he wouldn't do something like that again.

Blue slightly glances down as he tries to make an official decision on what to do. He looks up and takes a heavy breath. He heads up to the door briefly hesitating before knocking. He takes two steps back as he waits. His hands twisting around each other in his nervousness. He's never went to seek out someone he desires before. He's never had feelings of longing like this before either. He tries to think of something, anything, to say when the door is opened... Too late.... He nearly jumps when the door swings open revealing Red.

Their eyes meet just a moment before Red speaks.

"Hey Blue! What's going on? Did you wanna see how well the audio is doing? I was a little worried you were mad at me when you didn't reply."

For a moment Blue can't open his mouth to respond as his mind races for words. "Oh. Yeah. I'm here to see it in person so to speak. I forgot to reply. Sorry."

"Well come on I can show you. No need to be a statue outside the door right?" Red informs a Blue who gives a small Thanks as he heads inside. He closes the door behind Blue only to lead him to the studio. He grabs another chair placing it beside his own at the computer desk. "Go ahead and sit down Blueberry. Relax a bit. Don't rattle your bones in worry. I told you that it was a hit."

Blue heads over to join Red at the computer as the other loads up tumblr. He remembers the mention of that being his main place to post on. He wonders if he uses other websites for different audio types. His eyes look to Red and his hands press against his lap. He's trying to stop anything from forming down there. His mind flashing back for a moment to the recording he did with Red. He lightly shifts a bit before Reds voice brings him back to focusing.

"Here we are. The post. And look at that. Seven more likes than the last time that I checked."

Blue looks to the screen of the computer. He can see that the audio has indeed been doing very well. He softly swallows so as to not gain the others attention. He has the words on the tip of his tongue ready to be said... He just hesitates with uncertainty. He tries to say at least something knowing that Red might really take notice. He forces out a "Yeah".

Red turns to look at Blue watching his face and eyes. "Is there something on your mind?" His question throws Blue off guard causing him to try to think of an answer. "You can tell me if you didn't like how it turned out."

"No." Blue is unable to stop himself from saying that. His arms moving up to slightly reach for Red and he lowers them after a very brief moment. "I mean." He slightly glances away. "It's not that. The audio I think was great from how I heard it during the recording." He rubs his left hand against his right upper arm.

Red can tell that something is up. He moves closer to the other. "Mind if I ask ya what is in your mind?" He really wants to know as he can tell that it is bugging Blue. He wonders if it's some good gossip, or maybe a mistake. He just hopes no one hurt the other.

"Maybe I should go." Blue gets up and starts to leave the room. He only gets halfway when Red teleports in front of him. He stops and his eyes meet with the other. He can't help himself in admiring the red eyes looking back at him.

"Come on Blue. You can tell me what's going on. I won't judge you, or tell anyone. I swear." Red tells him keeping their gazes locked together. "You'll feel better if you get it out." He goes silent and waits to see how Blue will respond to his question.

Blues patience with this has run out. His need for something to happen, tension of waiting for so long, and Red being kind, all mix together until it's overflowing. His actions turned to impulses. He reaches out cupping both of Reds cheeks. He pulls him in close closing his eyes. With his eyes closed he allows his and Reds teeth to clank together in a kiss.

Red is surprised at first and doesn't return it. He reacts just before Blue was going to pull away to flee. His arms wrapping around Blues waist pulling him close. His eyes closed and he kisses that other back. He feels the other relax, then a tongue giving a small lick to ask for a make out session. He silently agrees by opening his mouth, bringing his own summoned tongue out to dance passionately with Blues.

They keep it up for a little bit before pulling apart.

Blues hands rest on Reds chest, by his shoulders, as he leans back a little without leaving the embrace. He now has a better look at the others now open eyes. His own are half open and a blush is painted across his cheeks. "Oh Red." He speaks a little softly with lust dripping in his tone.

"Damn Blue." Red smiles as his eyes go from fully open to almost half open. He keeps his hands on the others waist. "If you wanted to do that you could have just told me. And here I thought you weren't going to do more after our recording session."

Blues gaze turns even lustful before he releases a slightly frustrated sound; doing so for his unnecessary shyness. He quickly moves back to Red starting another make out session. He strokes the others skull also feeling one on his skull, his hand sliding under the others jacket while Red caresses his lower spine. He shifts the others jacket discarding it on the floor, after one arm at a time was moved to get it off. He makes out with him for awhile before pulling back to speak also stopping the actions; their eyes closed from the kiss. "I want you to give it to me."

Red purrs at this. He cracks open one of of his eyes. He does so for navigation as he pushes Blue backwards. He keeps doing it until Blues back is against the wall. He closes his eye again as the touching resumes. He keeps it up for a bit then pulls back to talk to Blue. "I'm gonna make you feel good." He promises panting a little in lust.

"I know you will." Blue confirms verbally to him before Red leans in kissing him once more.

Red shifts his hands moving them to move Blues legs apart so he can get between them. He shoves his tongue into the others mouth as he presses their bodies together. He does so to pin the other more than before. He can feel the shiver of pleasure from the other. He knew that it'd happen. His one hand moves to go under Blues shirt trailing his hands along the others ribs. He keeps it up as Blue moans out into the kiss. He pulls back from the shared kiss and shifts taking off his partners shirt. His mouth planting kisses on Blues ribs as he tosses the shirt off to the side. He also takes off the bandana to really reveal the others neck. He nibbles upon the neck that has been revealed. He drops the bandana in the process. His one hand returning to exploring the others ribs.

"Ah! Red!" Blue calls out to the other shifting from the pleasure accidentally grinding upon him. He can feel the soft moan against his neck and the magic creating a hard length. His magic quickly crackles to life turning into a pussy. He tilts his head allowing Red more room to nibble. He lets this continue on for a few moments only to get an idea, at the same time that Reds hand starts to go lower. "Hold on."

Red pauses and moves away enough to look at Blues face. "What is it?" He wonders if he is going too fast for the other.

"We should record this." Blue moves a hand, from where they were on Reds shoulder, to gently pet Reds jaw. "Just like last time." His hand moves from the others jaw to the collar. He grabs ahold of it. His stare is full of lust. "Just like last time." He repeats by accident in his hazy lust filled mind. He also hopes that the other will get at what he is hinting about.

Red grins widely as he understands and barely holds back a chuckle. "You really do love being manhandled don't you?" He growls in lust in which the other nods almost shyly. "Well then. I think we can make that happen in the recording booth." He moves away taking Blues hand hurrying them to the recording booth. He starts up a recording since he can always edit. He gets Blue inside and grabs a small table. He places it by the microphone. He picks Blue up tossing him onto the table. He slips between his legs and begins licking the others neck.

Blue moans at the attention to his neck. "Mm. Oh yeah Red. Give it to me." He encourages, then he lets out a small yelp of surprise as the other bites his neck. His yelp turns to a small moan as a spark of pleasure goes through him.

Red purrs enjoying the sound coming out of the others mouth. He feels said others legs wrap around his waist. He presses their teeth together in a kiss. He summons his tongue opening his mouth to lick the others teeth. His request is accepted as Blue opens his own mouth.

Their tongues meeting and dancing a slow dance of passion together.

Blues hands come to be placed on Reds cheeks. He feels the other start to grind against him. He moans into the kiss and can feel the others erection.

Reds grinding helps to make Blues pussy he summoned all wet. He pulls away from the kiss a purple strand of saliva, created by theirs mixing together, connects them for a moment before breaking. He gazes lustfully down at the other. He strips off the rest of their clothes and takes in Blues naked form. He chuckles at seeing Blue blushing harder as if shy. "Don't you worry about it. You're beautiful." He grabs onto Blues hips lifting him up off the table slightly. He is a bit rough to give Blue the real manhandled feeling. "I'm going to wreck your pussy." He licks his teeth careful to not cut his tongue on them. He shoves his hard cock into the others pussy finding it sliding easily.

Blue tilts his head back with a cry of pleasure and some pain from Red entering him.

Red stops once he is all the way inside of the other. He gives his lover a few moments to adjust to his length. He pulls it out until it's just the tip after the few moments, and he thrusts it back into that wonderfully soft warm pussy.

Blue cries out in pleasure as Red thrusts in and out of him.

The table rocking in a telling rhythm. Even as the moans and grunts of pleasure wouldn't be able to tell you the same thing.

The wet noises of where the two skeletons are joined would have been embarrassing, if either of them cared.

"You're mine." Red growls as he pounds Blue who can only respond with pleasured sounds. His thrusts gaining a possessiveness with each pound. "No one else can have you." He leans down and bites down onto Blues shoulder. He makes the bite only hard enough to give a temporary mark. He doesn't want to leave something permanent without Blues permission. He feels Blues hips twitch clearly enjoying the feeling. He pulls away and licks the spot that he has just marked. "Oh yeah baby. So good."

"Red! Red!" Blue manages to call out finally. He can feel the pleasure mounting. He knows that he's probably going to cum soon. He tries to speak again only to squeak at a particularly hard thrust. He whines when Red pulls out only to flip him over. He feels his body heat up even more at being manhandled like this. He lets out a gasp that falls to a moan as Red enters him once more.

Reds pounding thrusts resume once more rocking the table. He thrusts like this for a bit, they both are panting, then feels Blues hips start to twitch. "You wanna cum for me baby?" He inquires and Blue whines in a plead. "Say it for me."

"Please! Please let me cum!" Blue pleads, his speech a little slurred from pleasure, and shivers when Red makes a satisfied sound.

"There we go." Red doesn't stop his pounding thrusts into the other. "Now cum." He feels Blue cum around his cock. He groans at feeling the other clench around him as he twitches. "Fuck! Baby you're going to make me cum. You want it inside?"

"Yes! Please!" Blue confirms to Red. His body twitching from over stimulation.

"Okay then. Here it comes." Red gets a few last good pounds in, before he stops fully inside Blue. He cums hard inside of the other holding said other in place. He manages to catch himself with his hands on the table, so he doesn't fall.

The two stay like that panting for a little bit as they come down from their pleasure high.

Red pulls out of Blue looking to how his cum dribbles out of the other.

Blue shifts standing straight then he turns around to face Red. "That was amazing."

"It sure was." Red agrees. "I'm glad that you came back for more."

Blue nods softly his cheeks heavily dusted with blush. "Me too." He agrees then Red heads to stop the recording. He moves over to stand next to Red. "You think it'll be popular?"

Red turns to Blue a little surprised at first then he chuckles. "I'm sure it will be." He confirms putting an arm around Blues shoulders. "But we can always make more. If you want to do this more often that is. So? What do you say? Be my recording assistant?"

"Only in the recordings?" Blue feels his soul drop a little. He must admit he had hoped that this would end up extended outside of it. He feels a hand gently caress his cheek. His eyes meeting with Reds own.

"We can do outside of recordings too if you want." Red offers with a smile on his face. "I wouldn't mind having you around a bit more."

Blue wraps his arms around Red and kisses him as a yes. He pulls back after they kiss for a moment.

"I probably should take you out on a proper first date." Red mentions making Blue chuckle warmly. His own smile widening at hearing such lovely laughter.

The end.

#sanscest #Underfell #underswap #cherryberry #cherryberry story #cherryberry ship #underswap sans #Underfell sans #underswap sans x underfell sans #Underfell sans x underswap sans #smut story #sanscest lemon

39 notes · View notes

imaginesfora3 · 4 years

Text

It’s About the Pining [Kazunari Miyoshi]

A/N: A commission I did for a lovely person who doesn’t mind if I post them to the blog now. If you’d like to commission me please message me over tumblr and I’ll happily give you my email so we can discuss details!

There was something wrong with Kazunari.

No matter how hard he tried to brush it off, no matter how much he avoided your gaze or made an excuse for having to help another Summer Troupe member with something to get out of the same room as you, you could feel it. The two of you had been close since you’d become the director of the Mankai company and you’d never had him act so coldly before, as if he couldn’t bear to be around you longer than three seconds, and it was beginning to affect his acting. He’d fumble his lines, forget words, Tenma looked ready to strangle him before you’d finally called off practice for the night. You noted the depressed look on Kazunari’s face at being the reason things had fallen apart that night at practice and you thought twice about following him, knowing you might be the cause of his distracted behavior, but decided it was for the best to squash the situation before it got too awful.

Kazunari was struggling.

It’s not as though he hadn’t had crushes before, there were plenty of others that made him feel this sudden surge of excitement when he was around them, that made his heart race and made his cheeks grow hot with just one look. But you were all of that and more. Being around you made him feel at peace, it made him feel like he could be himself without worrying you’d reject the real him. As his precious director he hadn’t wanted to put you in an awkward position by trying to date you but now these feelings had gotten to be so unbearable, weighing heavily on him at night as he got sick at the thought of another person stealing you away from him. But what could he really do to get his feelings across from you?

He remembered the one night where he’d invited you to a mixer with him, to which you begrudgingly agreed; you seemed a bit lost at first, unable to start conversations, but once one of the others noticed your interest in something and asked you about it, sparks flew from there. He’d never felt quite so bitter, the night seeming to drag on now as he was no longer excited to be here. He’d thought the two of you would be able to talk more, that he’d charm the pants off of you and you’d start seeing him as more than just a member of the company, but if anything he’d just ruined his own chances by introducing you to people who seemed to be a better fit. What kind of stupid idea was this?

“Haha, that was fun, wasn’t it?” He lied through his teeth after the painful night had finally ended, looking at you and trying to at least appreciate how beautiful you looked even when you were dressed in casual wear.

“It wasn’t too bad, thanks for inviting me!” Your friendly smile is like an arrow right to his heart and he can’t help but shoot you a genuine smile, glad that at least you had a good time. “I know you haven’t been going out as much as you used to so I’m glad you still get the chance to every once in a while. It’s good to get out of your room and think about stuff other than acting!”

Kazunari had been pleased you’d noticed that he was making an effort to put up a more mature front, one that said ‘I’m a suitable partner and not just flirtatious punk!’ but he feels like you’re still not taking him seriously enough. You laugh off any implications that he has true feelings for you, you rolled your eyes playfully when he told he wanted to take you on a totally romantic date, and any time he implied you’d be the ideal significant other you simply told him to stop buttering you up. He knows he’s to blame for you not taking him seriously, his earlier years with the company had taken place when he was still finding himself, figuring out what he wanted from life and latching onto the things that gave him immediate gratification rather than playing the long game for something much more gratifying.

That night is what Kazunari is remembering when you stop him in the hall, placing a hand on his shoulder and tilting your head in confusion when he jumps like you’d just electrocuted him.

“Are you alright, Kazu? You’re distracted lately and I need to know if it’s something I can help with.”

You could help in more ways than one, he thinks to himself, you could help by not just recognizing his feelings but returning them, too. You could realize that you were his muse, evidenced by the countless sketches of you in his notebook that he had; they were you doing a range of activities from gaming to simply sitting around reading a book. You had a beauty so striking that he couldn’t help but be inspired the moment he caught sight of you, his hand twitching as he immediately go to work. He’d made it a habit to carry around his sketchbook with him, considering buying a separate one as he didn’t want anyone to stumble upon the one that was practically just inspired by you, but he felt that might be a step too far into the creepy zone.

“Sorry, I’ll try to do better!” His fake smile is something you easily see past and you wished you could shake some sense into him, pouting and crossing your arms as you waited for a real answer. “I’m just… Thinking about my birthday! Yeah! I didn’t know if I wanted to go out to celebrate this year or not.”

“The others are really looking forward to buying you a drink for your 20th… I am, too,” Your sad smile is like a brick on his chest, “But it’s your birthday. If it’s not what you want, I can let the others know.”

“N-No! No, I’m fine with it. But since it’s my birthday, you’ll sit next to me, right? I don’t ever get you all to myself~” Kazunari leaned closer, pleased when you don’t pull away despite being so close, “Could that be my birthday present instead?”

“…Sure, if that’s what you want.”

Kazunari let out a deep sigh, giving you another strained smile before he wished you goodnight; this was just another instance of you not taking him seriously! How much clearer could he get, aside from blatantly telling you he was in love with you, that he wanted to be with you?! In a romantic sense, where the two of you could do cute things together and he could look at you lovingly saying ‘all mine’ and you’d nod to confirm you were, indeed, all his. His poor heart couldn’t take this much longer and he threw himself onto his bed, burying his face in his pillow and letting out a deep, discontented groan before he finally relaxed enough to fall asleep.

At least you were his in his dreams.

His birthday was the best night of his life.

He’d tried to push off any depressed feelings he had from his unsuccessful advances on you to simply enjoy the time he had with his friends, which included you, as everyone gave him the little gifts they’d bought or made themselves. He’s feeling even more hyped up as he’s walking with everyone to the restaurant that night, chattering away about all the plans he had now that he was a true blue adult with nothing holding him back! Every once in a blue moon his eyes would drift over to you unprompted, briefly looking you up and down before he returns to the conversation he had been engaged in; this doesn’t go unnoticed by you, quietly wondering if there was still something off between the two of you but figuring his birthday party wasn’t the time or place to bring it up.

The evening goes just as you predicted it would.

There’s plenty of laughter and jokes, Kazunari getting drinks bought for him from just about every member of the company. Tsumugi tries to keep him eating to soak in the alcohol, not wanting the young man to be totally blasted, but in a not very shocking turn of events Kazunari continues to spiral downwards. By the end of the night everyone’s got a nice buzz going for them while Kazunari can barely walk straight, only wanting you to help hold him up; Tasuku was on the other side of him bearing most of his weight but Kazunari refused to unlatch from your arm, excitedly talking about all the things he wanted to do as he got older and all the places he’d love to vacation to with you. You’re a little embarrassed at how blatantly affectionate he’s being and, even if he’d been the same way towards you before, something feels different with the far more direct approach drunk Kazunari is taking.

You don’t know how you convinced Kazunari to make his way to bed, Tasuku once again asking if you need him to take over for you; figuring you could handle Kazunari, and hearing said birthday boys complaints that he wanted you to be the one to tuck him in at night, you decided it was far easier to just handle it yourself. Most of the others had seen themselves off to bed or had gone home for the weekend, Muku’s bed thankfully empty as he surely would’ve been awoken by Kazunari’s giggling.

“I’ve got something super important to tell you~”

“I’m sure you do but you need to sleep now.”

“But it’s super important, don’t you wanna know? Totes top secret, just between the two of us!”

“Kazunari…”

“I love you.”

There’s a piercing silence that fills the room as his brows furrowed, as though he hadn’t meant to say that out loud despite his previous teasing. Every single insecurity he’d ever felt about your relationship, about how you viewed him, popped up again, completely undoing all the confidence the alcohol had filled him with.

“You’re really drunk right now, Kazunari.” You tried to get him settled but his intense stare is still burning into you, his words making your heart flutter in your chest; you don’t remember the last time you’d heard those words from someone who wasn’t a family member or a fan, and coming from him… You didn’t know how you were supposed to feel, but you couldn’t say it was an entirely negative. But wouldn’t that be complicated? To date one of the members of the company you managed?

“I’m not drunk, you’re just really blurry! And it’s how I feel. You never believe me… How can I make you believe me?” Kazunari pouted, leaning against you further and sending you stumbling into the wall. He’s quick to catch himself though it still ends with the two of you pressed closely together, breath hitching as your eyes meet with his. “You’re so beautiful.”

“We can talk about this tomorrow when you’re sober.” Your reply was definitive, sobering him enough as he did the climb of shame into his bed. You left without another word, mind swimming with all sorts of thoughts and anxieties while Kazunari’s did the same.

Morning didn’t bring him any peace.

Kazunari spent at least an hour that morning staring up at the ceiling, hating his life, wishing more than anything he could take back what he said to you last night. It felt like he was being stabbed in his heart and his head, over and over, no mercy being granted to him. He considered spending the rest of the day in bed feigning a serious illness but his stomach dropped at the thought of you being concerned over his well-being so he decided against it, finally dragging himself out of his room and down to the kitchen where you were waiting.

And you were alone.

When you glanced up from your plate to meet him he felt that same painful tinge in his heart, averting his eyes as he remembered almost perfectly the look on your face when he’d confessed to you. He wouldn’t blame you for not taking him seriously, for thinking he was just being his normal, flirtatious self, but he couldn’t have been more serious. Every day that passed he fell more and more in love with you and it was killing him inside now that he thought he’d ruined all that you had together. Kazunari’s heart ached and he wanted to apologize but he felt bringing it up would be even more awkward.

“Can we talk about last night?”

So much for avoiding that problem.

“Uh, haha, yeah, about that… I’m really sorry for saying all of that. I didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

“It wasn’t real?” You asked softly, head tilting to the side, Kazunari’s breath catching in his throat. How did you manage to be so effortlessly beautiful? His poor heart couldn’t take it.

“…It was real.”

“So you will give me a chance to prove myself?”

“Yes,” You smiled at the eager look on his face, “I’ll go on a date with you Kazunari. And why don’t you let me give you a present that I didn’t have the chance to give you last night.”

His entire body froze as you leaned in to press a soft kiss to his lips, a moment that he couldn’t believe was actually happening. He’d pictured how he’d feel, how soft your lips would be, how wonderful and vindicating it would truly be when he finally got the girl. And now that it was happening he was terrified, terrified one small move would puncture the perfect little fantasy bubble he was in and his happiness would explode around him. Yet it was real, you were real, standing in front of him, kissing him, agreeing to go on a date with him.

Kazunari had never been happier.

He’d prove to you that he was a great partner.

One day at a time.

#Miyoshi Kazunari #Kazunari Miyoshi #A3 #A3!#Act! Addict! Actors!#A3 x Reader #A3! x Reader #A3 Imagines #A3! Imagines #Miyoshi Kazunari x Reader #Kazunari Miyoshi x Reader #Scenario #Commission

136 notes · View notes

hermannsthumb · 4 years

Note

Gonna request some camb0y newt who has Hermann as a regular follower who may or may not be requesting used clothing from Newt...😳

this one is less h0rny and more dumb and I died every time I typed newt’s screen name but (ALSO THE FACT THAT TUMBLR KEPT BLOCKING THIS MESSAGE....unbelievable) 18+/not sfw below cut

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

The whole thing only started because of the kaijus.

It seems foolish to place the blame on them, considering the severity of the damage they’ve caused in every other aspect of life, but it’s the truth. Hermann was never brilliant at romance even in the best of times; he never knew quite the right words to say, or quite the right way to kiss, and certainly not how to keep men interested enough to come back for more than a date or two. Then the end of the world came, and the jaeger program ate up what little free time Hermann had, and dating simply fell to the very lowest tier of his priorities. He had work to do. He had lives to save.

Unfortunately, his libido continued to run rampant.

Masturbation could only get one so far, though Hermann was undeterred and tried almost anything: dildos, vibrators, expensive lubricant, a paid subscription to a high-quality pornography website. He cancelled this after a week, when he realized none of its featured men--though undeniably good-looking--fit his particular area of interest. Besides, it was far too impersonal. Hermann did not like spending half of his time watching a video or scrolling through a photo gallery wondering what that man was doing now, or whether or not he’d enjoyed himself, or what he was like in person... In a fit of desperation, Hermann picked up a subscription to another website that promised live men 24/7. And, well. To make a long story short, Hermann is pretty sure he’s in love.

The object of his affections is twenty-something and stocky, a good few inches shorter than Hermann (he’d wager, anyway), with a chestful of tattoos and a voice that’s almost high enough to be grating. Hermann has seen his face only fleetingly, but it’s enough for him to know it’s a highly agreeable one. He’s got a nice sense of humor, seems intelligent enough, and the glimpses Hermann’s caught of the bedroom he streams from (at the perfect time of day, late enough that Hermann’s inhibitions are entirely nonexistent) indicate a healthy love of science fiction.

Hermann is mostly in love with him because of how good of a show he puts on, though. Where Hermann fails in his use of dildos or vibrators and other nonsense, the man succeeds, and indeed excels, and he’s endlessly creative with dressing in lace and other funny little costumes. It makes for some very inspired jerking off on Hermann’s end. More importantly, it makes for a calming of his libido.

Hermann doesn’t know his real name, only his chosen screen name, though it doesn’t really matter: kaijulover69 is most certainly the man of his dreams.

Well. Nobody’s perfect.

“Tonight’s stream is dedicated to a very special fan for all his support,” kaijulover69 begins. He’s wrapped in a bathrobe, though Hermann has a feeling he knows what’s beneath it, and he flushes pleasantly with warmth at what’s soon to come. “And for what I’m wearing right now. You know who you are. Thanks again, dude!”

His lips are just visible on camera, and he grins coquettishly before slipping the sleeve off his right shoulder. Then the left. “That very same fan requested a strip tease tonight,” he continues, “and--well, I’ll let the rest be a surprise, huh?”

The belt is undone. The robe slips down to the bed, revealing the object of Hermann’s affections clad in nothing but a rather small pair of lacy black undergarments. (And a bloody expensive pair, at that--cost a third of Hermann’s weekly salary. It’s worth it.) You look very attractive, Hermann types encouragingly into the chat box, and hope it’s visible between the pleads for kaijulover69 to flash his face or pull his genitalia out already.

He doesn’t appear to see any of them. “My week was pretty lame,” he continues. He begins to idly run his hands up and down his bare chest; Hermann mirrors the action on his own, enjoying the shiver he manages to elicit from himself even through two layers of shirt and sweater. “Work stuff has been kicking my ass. And--” His fingers falter. “Well, there’s this guy I really like, and we’ve kinda been...seeing each other, but I just found out he’s actually seeing someone else. So I guess it’s like, I realized I’ve been making all this shit up in my head?”

Who would ever turn down such a marvelous specimen of human? Hermann’s temper flares with a mingling of both righteous offense on the man’s behalf and a little bit of jealousy that he’s not the one who’s so captured his heart. He would like to knock some sense into them, whoever they are.

“But you don’t care about that,” he says, and forces a laugh. “You want to see me mess these up, don’t you?”

His hand drifts down to his panties, and he gives himself a squeeze through them.

“Please,” Hermann says happily, though he knows there’s no one to hear.

------

There’s an email from Newton waiting for him in his inbox the next morning. No subject.

Hey, dude-

Sorry I left you hanging yesterday. I was just a little shocked. Not shocked that you have a partner or whatever, of course you do, that’s totally normal, just that you never told me about them until now. I read over your latest article, and I just wanted to say what an utter load of--

“Hmph,” Hermann says, and quickly scrolls up and away from Newton’s annoying little rant.

Even as he does so, he feels a pang of guilt he doesn’t quite understand. Newton is shocked he has a partner: so what? And, er, so what if that partner isn’t quite as real as Hermann is pretending? The question came at him fast, and unexpected, and so very quickly into the switch from letter correspondence to email; kaijulover69 on his mind, Hermann panicked and wrote yes, I do have someone in my life. It’s not entirely a lie. Though Hermann holds no illusions about the nature of their dynamic, the man has certainly taken up the same amount of Hermann’s time and money that a real partner would. And besides--it’s easier. Less messy. Newton would probably try to set Hermann up with someone, or pester him about his sex life, or even--God forbid--try to offer him advice. (Once I blew a guy in the bathroom of this shitty dive bar, try that, he told Hermann a few weeks ago, and I always take my dates to the aquarium so I can talk about shit and look smart.)

It’s also helpful in dissuading Hermann from his daydreams and illusions of dating not kaijulover69, but Newton; that, he fears, is an even grander pipe dream.

He skims Newton’s--rather poor--critique of his work, ignoring entirely his comments on Hermann’s partner, and types up a fast rebuttal. Kaijulover69 has another stream tonight, and he doesn't want to miss it.

--------

“The trick,” kaijulover69 pants, “is to just, uh, relax your muscles as much as possible. It’s easier when you’ve got someone doing it for you, obviously, but...”

His chosen method of masturbation tonight is a frightfully large tentacle dildo, wider and longer than any prick Hermann’s seen in his life. Hermann’s not sure if such a dildo would fit inside him; he’s not even sure if it’s going to fit inside kaijulover69. The man is rather compact. It’s stopped about halfway into his body, and even from the rather distant angle Hermann can tell it’s stretching him tight.

“...I might’ve jumped the gun a little,” the man says, and bursts out into breathy laughter. “Should’ve, uh, should’ve gotten the smaller size. Or worked up to this one.” He works another centimeter into himself before his body goes taut. “Go--go big or go home, I guess?”

One hand moving steadily around his prick, Hermann uses the other to type an encouraging message: Excellent effort.

Kaijulover69 pulls the dildo out to the thinnest section, then once he relaxes, begins a rhythm of short, shallow thrusts. Each time, it goes in a little deeper. It’s very good to watch, and listen to as well; his little gasps, the creaks of his bedsprings, the spread of his legs widening. Hermann briefly considers how badly he would like to be the one pushing it into him and dragging out those sounds, and is surprised to find himself orgasming.

He tips generously once the stream is over: he does like to consider himself some sort of gentleman, and he likes seeing how excited it gets kaijulover69.

-------

The package arrives on an entirely ordinary Tuesday some three weeks later. Autumn has come, bringing with it a rather heavy series of rains, and Hermann is drenched and shivering when he finally ducks into the relative warmth of his flat. The knowledge of what the box tucked under his arm contains warms him considerably; he rented a P.O. Box for one reason and one reason exactly, not even daring to have his name attached to it. It’s gauche, he knows, but--isn’t it a bit like recycling? Kaijulover69 gets a fresh, exciting outfit from Hermann, and Hermann gets it back after he’s--well.

Hermann needs to unwind somehow. There’s nothing wrong with it!

The black lace undergarments are wrapped neatly up inside the box, with a sweet little pink bow on top. Attached to that is a simple handwritten card: To my number one fan! ❤️ There’s plenty more where this came from...

Simple, and innocently flirty. And so familiar it makes Hermann’s blood run cold.

“It’s not possible,” he says.

And yet--isn’t it? Hermann’s never seen his face--either of their faces--and the screen name--

There is no return address on the package, but a frantic search of its wrappings reveals its origin: stamped in black ink over frog-themed postage is BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS. “No, no,” Hermann mutters to himself, even as he reminds himself (unhelpfully) that plenty of people are from Boston. He tosses it to the bed and clacks over to his desk, clutching the card so tightly it crumples. Newton’s letters are all in the top drawer--he just needs--

The handwriting is a perfect match.

“Bugger,” Hermann groans.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous #not sfw ////

68 notes · View notes

monster-bait · 4 years

Text

Repost — Monster Match: Sebastien the Werecat; M Werecat x F Human, NSFW

TUMBLR ATE THE FIRST POST, WTFFF

Sorry, @de-couleur!!

Monster Match for @de-couleur: Ok, let’s see here. I’m 23, quite independent (I moved from the US to Korea and regularly do solo trips), I LOVE cats (there are cats in the park near my apartment that I made friends with cause I can’t have a pet cat), I’m a romantic and I love the “old fashion” romance stuff: bringing a girl flowers, writing love letters, etc. I’d love a guy who has a significant size difference from me (5'3) and loves to cuddle.

The airport was crowded for a Monday

You shifted on the hard bench, breath catching when a fresh wave of arrivals began to flood down the escalator, heading to baggage claim. The conveyor belt before you jerked into motion, luggage making a slow parade before the eager travelers. You watched harried businessmen snatch up sleek black cases, barking into cell phones as they headed to the doors, couples gathering up bags together, and families reuniting.

A young woman came down the escalator, gripping the handle of her carry-on, scouring the crowd with an anxious expression. The moment she found the object of her search was evident by the smile that split her face, the way she bounced lightly on her toes as she waited for the escalator to deliver her to the baggage claim area.

Your insides seemed to swoop and curl as she rushed forward, throwing herself into the outstretched arm of a laughing man, feeling like a voyeur to their happy reunion, an anonymous witness to their clasped hands and their long kiss.

You wondered how Sebastien would greet you.

You had met him two years earlier, shortly after your move, when sakura season had been upon the land. It was the first spring spent in your new home, and you wanted to take a day trip, to get away and experience a leisurely hanami, the viewing of the flowers, when one was meant to enjoy the beauty of the cherry blossoms and reflect on the transient nature of beauty.

After some brief online research, the castle ruins in Maizura park in Fukuoka called to you, the ideal place to enjoy the fleeting beauty of the flowers, and reflect on life. The ferry from Busan to Fukuoka left several times a day, the perfect plan.

He had been there, taking pictures of the ruins.

It had been immediately clear that he was not the average tourist. Compared to the clusters of people taking pictures, his equipment was expensive, and his pace languid and unhurried. You'd admired his striking silhouette in the late-afternoon sun: broad shoulders that tapered to narrow hips and long, graceful limbs. A group of chattering Dutch tourists moved between where you stood and where the handsome man slowly rose from where he’d crouched, regrettably obscuring your view of his nicely rounded backside as he stood.

Your eyes met once they’d passed, as if he’d been waiting, and his smile—sharp and confident—gave you an instant case of the butterflies. He turned back to the ruins a moment later, and you'd continued your stroll, feeling your cheeks warm.

“A karaage chicken and a beer, please.”

The food stalls have been busy, unsurprising considering how crowded the park was that day, and you’d been waiting online for nearly fifteen minutes, mindlessly scrolling your social media until it was your turn to stand before the harried-looking woman taking orders.

“Make that two of each,” a deep voice sounded behind you, his long arm handing over payment before you could blink. The man from the ruins grinned down, his dark eyes crinkled with his smile as your food was passed over the small partition, and you’d found yourself returning the smile with one of your own, the butterflies making themselves known once more.

His name was Sebastien, and his accent was oddly continental, giving you very little clue on where it was he called home. “I’ve lived all over,” he shrugged with another easy smile. “France, Germany, Philippines, the States...we never stayed in one spot for very long when I was growing up.”

“Military brat?”

“Something like that,” he murmured, cocking a dark eyebrow with another grin. “Yours is definitely not a local accent.”

He’d seemed delighted by your confession that you’d picked up and moved to Korea on your own, just for the adventure of it, asking your opinion of the restaurants in your neighborhood, and how you’d assimilated to the cultural differences since your move.

He was a photographer, you’d learned, and might start his week on the Mississippi delta and end it staring up at the stars above the Serengeti. He’d been knowledgeable about the castle ruins, telling you the history of the sight, and when a man passed, selling small hand-ties of flowers in a basket, he bought one for you, declaring that you needed something physical for your hanami experience.

If your cheeks had grown any hotter, you might have combusted.

As you sat together, a cat had come winding through the ruins to stare down your lunch. Strays were plentiful in tourist areas such as this, but you’d never seen one act in such an overtly friendly manner, as the cat rubbed its head against your companion’s shin, mewing plaintively. Even the cats who lived in the park near your apartment had taken a while to warm up to you, although you considered several of them to be your away-from-home pets.

When the sun began to set, a violet sky providing a stunning backdrop to the pink clouds of sakura blossoms on the trees, you’d realized that it was time to leave, to catch your ferry, and say goodbye to him. Handsome, smart, well-traveled...you’d mentally checked off the traits you found the most appealing, finding he possessed an abundance of them. You’d exchanged phone numbers and email addresses, and he’d promised to stay in touch, before he’d kissed you.

There was something different in his kiss, you’d known immediately. Something primal and unfamiliar, but not at all unpleasant. You’d briefly dated a werewolf back home, before you’d moved away, and his kiss had possessed the same sort of animal heat that you’d tasted then.

You hadn’t expected to actually hear from him again. The fleeting beauty of flowers, you’d thought on your train ride home, raising the small bouquet he’d given you to your nose, like the fleeting blush of flirtation.

It had been a surprise then, when your phone chimed with a text that same night.

Just making sure you got home alright

Had a lot of fun today!

It had been the start of daily messages. Texts from him would come at all hours, and despite the fact that you were often continents apart, your conversations would continue unabated for days, easy and effortless. His name on your phone screen would often be the last thing you’d see at night, and the messages that he’d sent overnight while you slept gave you a reason to smile, catching up during your daily commute.

Did you see that news story about the werewolf tribe in Malaysia?

You'd bitten your lip, quickly typing the message as your train hurtled through the tunnel one morning. He’d never come out and said that he was something other than human, and you’d never made mention of your suspicions, but you thought it was time to let him know that it didn’t matter to you in the slightest.

The Malay tribe in question had been profiled on a popular world news station, their history and customs discussed openly for the first time.

I did, it’s incredible that they’ve managed to stay so insular all this time

Here goes nothing, you thought, tapping out your reply.

It talked about how painful the change is, especially for young people

Bones breaking and stuff

Is it really like that? Was it that bad for you?

You waited, wedged between other commuters, counting the seconds as your phone remained silent.

You’d walked into work with your heart in your throat, forcing a smile as your co-workers greeted you. You ruined everything. Checking your phone a final time before stashing away your belongings, the black cloud of dread that had gripped you the entirety of the four block walk from the train dissolved, a wave of relief washing up your spine.

Not really, but cats are better than dogs ;)

I wonder if it has much to do with diet?

I’d be curious to see the stats on bone density and childhood malnutrition

I need your address please

Several weeks later you'd received a lovely, hand-painted parasol, along with the first letter.

He couldn't possibly have known that you had a weakness for handwritten notes and letters, you often thought with heated cheeks, couldn't have known how many times you read it, giving it a place of honor upon your desk. When a second came, then a third, you'd picked up a decorative box at a street market to keep them in safely.

He told you about the city skyline, if there was a city wherever he was. Otherwise you received a narration of the wide open sky, the waves on the ocean, of the slope of mountains and the color of wheat. He pondered if you’d prefer the heat of the tropics over the chilly rain and fog of the Scottish highlands, fields of farmland or waves crashing on miles of uninhabited beach.

It was impossible to write him back with the way he travelled. You had to settle for emailing him your responses, long letters full of your ambitions and insecurities, wondering what scared him, what his secret passion were, where he'd like to call home.

You never discussed your letters in your daily text messages, nor in the weekly video calls you tried to make room for. The things you wrote to each other felt too intimate to be discussed in such a pedestrian way, so they were kept to his handwritten missives and the responses you wrote in the glow of your laptop’s screen.

Now he was almost here, back in the flesh, for the first time in two years.

Hello, I'd like to inquire into the sofa for rent in your apartment? Does it come with turn down service?

Two weeks. You'd have him to yourself for two weeks. Truly to yourself, for your roommate had decided not to extend her teaching contract and had flown home just a few days earlier.

You straightened as the next wave of people descended from the upper level, crowding onto the escalator. Your heart began to thump as you considered what kind of visit it would be. You had to consider that your feelings for him might be one-sided. Sebastien's letters, while wildly intimate, were never sexually or romantically charged. He might want to sleep on the sofa after all...

Closing your eyes, you imagined running your fingers through his silky dark hair, his arms strong around you...the scrape of his five o'clock shadow against your skin as the fingers in his hair tightened, your breath catching as he kissed you, covering your body with his own…

When your eyes opened, he was there.

You'd forgotten how tall he was, you realized. Sebastien towered over the throng of people moving down the escalator. Tall and slender with broad shoulders and an unhurried air; his face splitting into a smile when he caught sight of you.

The next few moments seemed to happen in slow motion, as if you were under water. Rising from the bench, your arms opened, mirroring his, in anticipation of his hug.

Sebastien dropped his bag, exclaiming in excitement as he engulfed you, lifting you easily into the air as you squeaked. You weren’t expecting to be scooped up and twirled, weren’t expecting his warm lips to press to yours, his unfamiliar animal heat to send sparks up your veins.

You had hoped for it, but hadn't allowed yourself to expect it.

When your fingers slid into his dark hair, nails scraping his scalp, he growled against your lips, and you wondered why you had been worried about the nature of his visit at all. Of course this isn't one-sided.

"Look at how gorgeous you are," he sighed once you were back on the ground. Beaming up, you gripped the front of his shirt pulling him down to you. You were buoyed by his words, by the nerves and excitement of seeing him again, by the uniqueness of your relationship, the old-fashioned romance of his missives and how special he made you feel. The kiss you shared this time was slower, with more heat, and your lips tingled when he finally pulled away.

“We should go,” he murmured. “Places like this usually have decency laws, and you’re tempting me to break all of them.”

You trembled the entire way back to your apartment. Sebastien had insisted on getting a cab, not wanting to wrestle his roller bag on the train. “Besides, I’m not letting go of your hand,” he announced cheerfully, pulling you into another light kiss before hailing a cab at the taxi queue.

“Are you sure you’re not going to get in trouble having me here?”

The hallway was quiet as the elevator dinged open, and you shushed him, pulling him quickly to your door. The company-provided apartments were small but comfortable, particularly now that your roommate was gone, but he wasn't wrong—it would be frowned upon for you, a young, unmarried woman, to have a male houseguest. You didn't care. Your replacement roommate was not due to arrive until the end of the month, giving you the unexpected boon of privacy during Sebastien’s stay, and you had no intention of letting him stay in a hotel.

“I really was going to get a hotel room, you know,” he laughed, as you tugged him inside.

“Well, now you don’t need to. And we have the place to ourselves the whole time you’re here,” you announced. “Bathroom is here, the kitchen is miniature, but it's functional...I got some of that electrolyte water you like. Living room, the advertised sofa, turndown service is an extra fee...the second bedroom, the new girl won’t be here for a few weeks...and here’s my room.”

You swallowed hard, opening the door and ducking your head, lest he see your blush.

“Hmmm...very nice,” he mused, poking his head into your small bedroom. “How much is an upgrade in accommodations?” he asked, with a devilish smile. “This looks a lot more comfortable than the sofa.”

You pretended to ponder, looking him over as you gripped your chin. “Hmmm...I’m sure negotiations could be made.”

You squealed again when he lifted you, bouncing you down on the bed. “I’m a freelancer, miss. Negotiations are what I’m good at.”

Fashion mores in South Korea dictated that women were to remain modestly covered in high necklines...but short, school girl-style skirts were completely acceptable. You might have complained occasionally about the absurdity of the micro-mini lengths, but you were glad for your own short skirt just then.

Sebastien kissed up your legs, finding you ticklish behind the knees, knowledge you knew he’d exploit eventually. Your breath hitched as his lips rose, coming out in shallow pants when he reached your thighs.

“Are the negotiations satisfactory so far?”

Wide hands covered your knees, his long, slender fingers darting out to tease your ticklish skin before pushing up your legs, warming the skin he’d just kissed, flipping up your skirt and opening your legs before his seeking mouth. By the time his lips landed on the edge of your panties, you were panting.

“I-I think you’ve made a compelling opening statement,” you wheezed, earning a deep chuckle that buzzed against your skin.

A trail of kisses, followed by the heat of his tongue, dampening the outside of the thin fabric. When he pushed the material aside, his tongue lightly traced the very edge of your slickened folds. Back and forth, a teasing pressure until your hips bucked reflexively.

You watched as your panties went sailing across the room, after Sebastien tugged them down your hips in one fast motion. His tongue was unnaturally hot, like a plume of lava licking at your most sensitive parts, but the heat was secondary to the pleasure. The tip of his tongue traced lightly, followed by a long, slow lick with a flattened tongue, exploring your silky walls and teasing around that pearl of nerves until you were arching into his mouth.

When he finally began to lick you in earnest, you mewled. Back and forth, back and forth, punctuated by sucking kisses, his lips pulling on your clit until you gasped, his tongue lashing it as soon as it was released. When you came against his tongue, Sebastien hummed, lapping at your release until you gripped his hair, too sensitised for him to continue.

He was incredibly pleased with himself.

His body completely covered yours as he climbed over you as you melted into the mattress, his smile wide and his chin glistening. Your fingers were uncoordinated as you fumbled with his belt buckle, distracted over the press of his erection, until Sebastien gripped your hand, squeezing gently before pushing it aside, opening his faded jeans himself.

You gasped as he pressed into you, his overwhelming heat all consuming. The moon would be full by the end of the week, you realized, just before arching beneath him; the thick, burning heat of him pressing into your inner walls and making your breath hitch. It was too much: too much heat, too full, to thick, and in what seemed like no time at all, you were clenching around him, the world a spinning ball of fire, raking your nails down his back, until the molten heat of him filled you and you combusted into blackness.

The sun had not yet risen when you stirred in your bed. You were alone.

He’d left you two days earlier, kissing your nose as he readied himself for the turn, citing a fellow photographer, an american werewolf who had given him leads on several safe spots.

You did not want to sit in your bed alone another moment, you decided, raising with a stretch. There was a food stall that began making their kkwabaegi at dawn. You would get up and procure some, bringing some home for him, if he returned today.

The little park was empty, as you’d known it would be. The dough of your fried pastry was hot, sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar, and the enticing aroma drew out several of your feline friends as you lowered yourself to a bench.

The sun was just beginning to warm the city in a golden glow, peeking between the buildings. He didn't have a reason to rush off, he’d murmured into your hair as you laid against him one night; he could stay longer than the two weeks he’d originally planned. He’d need to move out of your apartment, of course...but that didn't mean he couldn’t form a new base of operations. The sunlight winked off the trickling water feature as you broke off tiny pieces of dough for the cats.

There was something there in the shadows you realized, though you curiously felt no fear. The sun was shining, the morning was quiet, and you were in love. Maybe he would stay.

A huge black panther slunk from the shrubbery, smaller cats flanking him with hungry mewls, and you laughed, holding out a piece of the kkwabaegi. Shining, golden eyes, long and muscular. Cats are better than dogs. Maybe he would stay.

You beckoned the felines closer, flipping open the box of treats. After all, you’d bought one for him anyways.

#Exophilia #monster boyfriend #monster lover #werecat #werecat boyfriend #monsterbait writes #monster matchmaker #monster matches #monster match

321 notes · View notes

vipclifford · 4 years

Text

A Sign Of Love

A/N: italics represent flashbacks

You watched your boyfriend’s band play from the left wing of the stage. Every bang of the drums could be felt in your chest, every strum of the strings brought an odd tingling sensation to the tips of your fingers. You pressed your hand against one of the pulsating speakers, a soft smile stretching your lips as you felt the rhythm in your bones.

Calum’s eyes met yours with a large grin on his face once the song ended, his hands quickly signing “I love you.” With a cheesy smile you signed the words back at the man, his lips blowing you a kiss in response before returning his attention back to the show.

Sunlight warmed the breeze that brushed past your skin, fallen leaves soaring through the streets. The park bench felt cold against your legs as you waited for your charming date to show up.

It was your first date. The first after the man tried to chat you up at a party weeks ago, only to find out that the loud music was not the cause for his words being unheard. This fact did not deter him as Calum still seemed adamant to talk to you, eager enough to swipe your phone from your hands and make your contact list grow. Eager enough to fill each other’s notifications with messages for weeks. Eager enough to ask you out.

Clammy hands held your phone as you checked the time over and over, a dictation app ready to be used. A rose suddenly hung over the screen, gaze rising to meet a smiling Calum who held the flower out for you. You noticed the notebook held under his arm.

You grasped the flower with a small smile and stood up to greet him with a quick hug.

“Hi,” you said, phone ready to catch the next words he spoke. Instead a look of concentration overtook his face as he slowly signed ‘Hello, you look beautiful.’ Heat rose to your cheeks as he grinned down at you, nodding as though to emphasise his point.

You just smiled and looked down at the rose between your fingers, excited for what the rest of the afternoon could hold.

A sweaty Calum engulfed you in his arms, still bouncing off of the adrenaline from the show he just finished. Your nose scrunched up at the smell though your arms still encircled his torso, holding him tight. Only when a water bottle was thrown towards him did he relinquish his grip.

‘You did great, baby,’ you signed after he downed half of the bottle in one gulp. His lips formed a ‘thanks’ with a joyful look in his eyes before grabbing your cheeks, pulling you closer to meet his lips. One kiss turned into two then three then four before you pressed your hands against his chest to push him away, his lips still chasing yours as you pulled back. ‘You stink, shower first, then we’ll see,’ you signed to your boyfriend who nodded in defeat before a mischievous look filled his eyes. ‘Join me?’

“Were you born deaf?” Calum asked one day as you laid side by side beneath the summer night, months of dating behind you.

In all of this time he had always been attentive and supportive, treating you as normally as he possibly could. You could tell he had been secretly taking a sign language course as his skills improved every week, your heart filling with something you had never felt as you saw how much effort he was putting into being able to talk to you. And yet he had never dared to ask the big question, too scared of offending or upsetting you by mentioning the disability that has shaped you into the person you are today.

You read the words as they came up on the screen of your phone, glancing at him briefly before turning back to face the stars.

“Nope. I mean, I was always deaf in my left ear, but I could easily get away with it and live life as normal, if anything sharing headphones was the only trouble. But then one morning I woke up and with a slight ringing in my right ear. A ringing that went on and on and wouldn’t stop. And I couldn’t stop it, no matter how strongly I hit the walls and anything around me, desperate to hear anything else. This obviously alarmed my parents who came rushing in but I didn’t even notice until my dad grabbed me by the shoulders to force me to stop. I watched as his lips kept moving but no sounds came out. Nothing, Cal, not even a whisper,” you told your boyfriend as your eyes welled up with tears. He noticed this and wrapped his arms around you to pull you into his chest, hand stroking your head comfortingly. “The next thing I remember was being in A&E for ages and a couple doctors testing my ears. Eventually one of them handed me a piece of paper that said ‘sudden sensorineural hearing loss.’ The cause hasn’t been identified, but basically there is something wrong with the sensory organs of my inner ear so they can’t detect sound. They said that it was good that I had been diagnosed early and that treatment with corticosteroids would be able to bring my hearing back, but I wasn’t so lucky. So no, I wasn’t born deaf, but that’s my story.”

Calum pressed a kiss to your head and took your phone-clutched hand, kissing it too before grasping the device. He returned it after typing a message and sat up in front of you. ‘Thank you for sharing that with me. I know it must have been difficult but I appreciate you opening up, and I am so incredibly proud of how far you’ve come since that fateful morning.’ A small smile sat on your lips as you read the text, sitting up to face him too.

‘I love you,’ he signed, vulnerability in his eyes as he awaited any kind of response from you. Your smile widened in joy and surprise at his confession. Hands reaching out to intertwine with his, you carefully uttered the words back. Hearing your words made him grin from ear to ear, hands squeezing yours before leaning forwards to give you the most loving of all kisses. His soft lips melted into yours as he reached to gently place his hand on your cheek.

The night was perfect. He was perfect.

Celebratory beers were passed around the backstage dressing room followed by what you presumed were cheers. You chuckled lightly to yourself as you watched the scene, thinking of how oxymoronic your relationship was. One who devoted their life to creating music and sound and the other who couldn’t hear. With a tap to the shoulder Calum refocused your attention to him, signing a ‘you alright?’ with a slightly concerned expression.

You nodded with a smile, looking down at the silver ring on your finger before signing back your reply.

‘I’m happy.’

A/N: I have written this piece for the project ‘DisabledSOS’ organised by @skinnylukes ! This project aims to support and spread awareness about 5SOS fans with disabilities, chronic illnesses, and other health conditions. Carly brought back this movement specifically to bring about more disability-inclusive writing to tumblr and our fandom as I know that most writers (including myself) don’t tend to cater our pieces to this audience. I was really excited when she asked me to join the event and I hope i did it justice! Be sure to check out the #disabledsos tag for other fics/blurbs like this!

Inspired by Season 5 of Skam France, which deals with a normal teenager who experiences sudden hearing loss and has to learn to adapt to his new life. You can watch without seeing the other seasons, each season is based around a different central character and you see everything through their eyes so most things that happened previously are not necessary to follow the show. I truly recommend it!!

masterlist

189 notes · View notes

ayamari-no-goshi · 3 years

Text

Verboten 14 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary: AU. When Danny was five years old, he went missing for 2 weeks. In the years that follow, his family tried to make sense of what happened, only for the truth to be discovered years later.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, language. Be prepared for some very weird things

Chapter warning: being attacked at home

Parings: Danny/Sam

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr. This fic is very heavily inspired by folklore surrounding mysterious wilderness disappearances

Chapter 14

“Well, at least we know your parents could hire him to clean their ceilings if he stays stuck up there.”

“You’re not helping, Tucker,” Danny snapped at him from his spot on the ceiling.

More amused than surprised anymore, he just let Sam continue to try to help Danny change back to his human form while he worked on his own project. When Sam messaged him earlier that there was an issue, he hadn’t expected to walk into Sam’s room and find Danny, in all his ghostly glory, sitting cross-legged on the ceiling above Sam’s bed and having a panic attack. After taking in the absurdity of the situation, he tried for several minutes to help Sam somehow get him down. When all rescue attempts failed, mostly because Danny couldn’t seem to hold on to anything they threw at him, Sam moved to a different tactic. She hoped getting him to relax would somehow help.

Since that wasn’t his forte, Tucker decided his way of helping would be to finish reviewing the information he got from Plasmius while making comments about his friend’s predicament. Although he knew the digs annoyed Danny and Sam, he needed to do it for his own sanity.

Up until this point, Tucker really hadn’t registered the paranormal as being truly real. Sure, they did get abducted by a crazed ghost and then attacked by an even crazier ghost, but the more time passed without a ghostly incident, he had almost rationalized it as some stress induced hallucination. Almost being the key word. He knew his best friend had been fundamentally changed by the event, but other than the freak out at school and his now permanently chilly skin, Danny hadn’t done anything ghostly until now. Speaking of which…

“How exactly did you end up like this?” he questioned moments before Danny finally fell from the ceiling and landed face first on Sam’s bed. “You okay, dude?”

“More okay then I was when I was stuck on the ceiling,” he sighed as moved himself to the edge of the bed. His unnatural green eyes scanned the room as if searching for something. “I’m like this because of Plasmius.”

“Wait, wait? That’s a pretty big thing to neglect to mention.”

“I’m sorry I got distracted by discovering I was walking around in my ghost form or whatever you want to call it.”

“Don’t antagonize him, Tucker. That seems to make things worse,” Sam scolded as she pointed at Danny, who started to float again. “See? But that is pretty important.”

Danny huffed as he experimentally shifted, making it look like he was just lying on his stomach… in mid-air. Seemingly alright with the position, probably because he was only about a foot above the bed, he continued. “Look, I was planning on immediately telling you guys as soon as Tucker arrived, but I panicked when I realized I couldn’t change back. But since that doesn’t seem to want to change any time soon, I guess I just explain what happened.”

Once Danny was done, Tucker let out a whistle. “That’s some story. Glad he let you go, but it’s really creepy that he can just pluck you into that other world when he wants.”

“Why was he here in the first place?” Sam asked as she worked up enough courage to sit near where Danny was still floating. “That’s what’s bugging me about it. Was he just really here for information?”

“That’s what I don’t get either. Whoa! I’d like it if my body would make up… its mind?” As Danny fell onto the bed once again, a blinding light suddenly washed over him. Once it faded, he was back in his human form. “Well, at least that fixes that problem for now.”

Deciding not to comment on his friend’s obvious relief, Tucker somewhat changed the direction of the conversation. “At least Plasmius confirmed he’s interested in Vlad Master’s companies for something nefarious. Most of what I’ve gotten so far on that data are files on different employees.”

Danny’s eyes lit up at the statement. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. Vlad’s in town.”

“That’s convenient,” Sam dryly stated after she shared a look with Tucker. “Why’s he here?”

“Apparently, when my parents asked him for help getting some information, he decided he needed to be directly involved. He was visiting when I got up.” He glanced down and wrung his hands before adding, “But he seemed really off today.”

“Off how?”

“He gave me literal chills. I mean, if I think about it, that’s happened when ghosts were around, but not people. He also seemed off… like he was a different person.”

Unnerved, Tucker placed his PDA on Sam’s desk. “I hate to bring this up, but didn’t you say that thing that attacked you was able to change how it looked?”

Danny’s eyes widened briefly before he shook his head. “I… I don’t think that’s it. It was close, but there was still something off about how it looked. It also didn’t feel the same… the chill was different. Vlad felt… Vlad felt like Plasmius but not as strong? I don’t know how to explain it.”

“You mentioned that chill before when you freaked out because of Maura… do you think you can sense other ghosts now?” Tucker felt himself grin despite the situation. “I mean, cuz if you can, that’s really useful. I’d like to be able to stay on the complete other side of the city from where that creepy thing is.”

“Maybe? I certainly didn’t notice anything like it when we were trapped or escaping from Plasmius… but he did say something about how that’s possible.” A thoughtful expression briefly crossed his face, until he gave a wry grin. “Fat load of good it does if it only goes off when something is like ten feet away.”

“Darn. Well, still let me know if you notice anything else weird. I’d like a head start over anything that might harm these good looks.”

xxx

After their initial discussion of what happened, the rest of the time was spent seeing if Danny could get any sort of control over his ghost form. It took a while, but he did manage to find the preverbal trigger for the change. Via a couple hours under Sam’s Spartan-equse training, he was finally able to change to and from on command. While he hoped he’d have a chance to work on more of his abilities, it was definitely a success.’

Around dinner, he and Tucker left Sam’s and headed to their own respective houses. While his parents were relieved to see him before sundown, he couldn’t return the feeling. Vlad was still in the house. According to his parents, the businessman would be staying with them in the guest room for a while.

“A while? How long’s a ‘while’?” he questioned as he looked for something to drink in the fridge.

“Well, that’s up to Vlad,” his mother replied as she added a few shakes of something to what smelled like stew. Vlad and his father were still in the lab. “While he’s not entirely certain how long he will be able to remain away from his businesses, he’s hoping to be able to stay for a couple weeks.”

Unhappy with that answer, Danny grabbed his drink and disappeared into his bedroom. If he was honest, he wanted to practice more with his abilities. It would be a shame not to with how much progress he made earlier, but he wasn’t exactly certain what tools his dad and Vlad might be using. Some of them where supposedly able to detect differences in energy levels. Without knowing the specifics of his abilities, he really didn’t want to clue them in.

Actually, was he ever going to tell his parents? That was a good question. Right now, when he didn’t have much control or understanding over anything, it didn’t seem like a good idea. Perhaps down the road? Maybe. Actually, maybe they might have so information regarding what happened to him.

A little later, his parents called him down for dinner. For him, it was a relatively normal affair, save for the chills Vlad kept giving him. Seriously, what was up with that? Vlad had been a fixture in his life for years, and there was never an issue before. Maybe Plasmius somehow influenced him or something? He guessed it was possible. There were legends about ghosts doing stuff like that, but he had no idea how to even begin figuring that out.

After dinner, he once again retreated to his room. Frustrated, he decided a few hours of Doomed would be a good distraction from everything.

…

Right around three am, something woke Danny. Rubbing his eyes, he realized he fell asleep gaming. Stretching, he turned off the game before checking one of his drawers for clean pjs. Deciding it wasn’t worth it, he headed to his bed only to stop when his breath misted in front of him.

Now wide awake, he stopped and listened. There were the normal sounds of the furnace and his dad’s snores. Wait, the furnace? Then why could he see his breath a moment ago? Spooked, he opened his door as quietly as possible and stuck his head out into the hallway.

Nothing seemed out of place. No one was in the hall. There was no light from his parents’ room or the spare bedroom Vlad was using. Deciding something still didn’t seem right, he crept down the hall and peaked down the stairs.

Eyes, dark eyes with a faint red glow, peaked out at him from the darkness of the living room. Knowing whatever it was saw him, he panicked and ran towards his parents’ room. “Mom! Dad! There’s something in the house!” he yelled as he frantically beat on the locked door. Of course it was one of those nights.

“Oh my god, what is that thing?” Vlad’s voice and the growl that followed forced his attention to the staircase. The sickly gray color of its skin made it somehow stand out in the shadows. The creature, the same one Danny encountered in the alleyway, stood in all its horrible glory at the top of the stairs. Its face was twisted in a grotesque snarl, and it swayed slightly. With an uneasy jolt, Danny realized the thing seemed to be debating who to go after first.

At the sound of the lock on his parents’ door turning, the thing lunged forward. Danny barely had time to register his mother pulling him into the room while his father roared, “Eat this!”

The familiar whine of one of his parents’ blasters powering up was followed by a blinding green blast and then another. As his parents decided to chase the thing, he curled up behind the door. The sounds of the blasts and something else, something unnatural, crashing into furniture could be heard from the downstairs.

How did that thing get in the house? Better yet, how did it find him? It was his fault. He needed to help, but what could he do? He had no ability to fight against it. Heck, he still didn’t know what it was other than dangerous and evil.

When the sounds in the downstairs stopped, he held his breath and waited. A sigh of relief escaped him when his mother called for him and Vlad. Not caring he was a teenager and by default hated hugs from family members, raced to his mother’s side and embraced her. Understanding he was frightened, she rubbed his back and reassured him she was fine.

“Sorry to interrupt,” the light snapped on to reveal blast marks, destroyed furniture, and Vlad appraising the scene from the bottom step, “but what exactly was that thing? Should I contact the police?”

Embarrassed someone saw him, Danny quickly let go and retreated a few steps. His mother smiled at him before replying, “It’s already been taken care of.” She pointed to what Danny recognized as the button of one of the alarm systems; it was flashing. “Jack’s checking the perimeter to make sure that thing is gone. In the meantime, I’m going to make us hot chocolate.”

“But what if that thing comes back? Surely Jack wouldn’t just leave you alone.”

She flashed him a grin as she held up a miniature blaster. “Thank you for being concerned, but I’m actually the better shot between the two of us.”

After glancing at Vlad, who seemed both dumbfounded and proud, Danny hurried into the kitchen after his mother. He really didn’t want to leave her side if that thing came back.

“Danny,” his mother stated after they were seated at the kitchen table with hot chocolate in hand, “be honest with me, was that the same thing you saw in the alleyway?”

He took a sip of his drink before answering her. “I… I think so. I mean, I’m not exactly sure if it was the same thing or not, but it looked similar.”

“You’re telling me that’s the thing you’re researching?” Vlad sounded surprised, but Danny noticed how tightly he gripped his mug. Why did he seem angry? “That thing was an abomination.”

His mother nodded. “While there are some stories regarding things like that in folklore, most of the recent ones seem to be more fiction than fact, so Jack and I tended to disregard them.” She sent him an apologetic smile, “However, with Danny’s report, we decided to look into it and didn’t like what we found. That’s why we reached out because we needed to get the resources to verify the data.”

“What do you mean you didn’t like what you found?” His whole body felt icy again, but this time, it seemed to be from fear and not some paranormal creature.

“I want to verify something with the officers,” she glanced at the clock on the wall before muttering, “when they finally get here first. However, if Jack didn’t manage to get it, I’m not sure if it’ll come back or not. We definitely wounded it,” she pointed to a spot in the living room where something wet, dark, and faintly glowing could be seen, “but I don’t know if that was enough to ward it off or if it’s vengeful enough to return.”

“But why was it here?”

“If I may?” Vlad glanced at his mother, who nodded. “If it was in fact the same creature Daniel saw, it may have come for him, or, it simply could have been drawn to the house. Forgive me, but you do have a lot of ectoplasm and other potential energy sources on hand.”

“Hmm… we have been meaning to update our storage devices. That can easily be done, but if Danny is a target, that would be much harder to fix.” His mother reached out and gently put her hand on his. “Sweetie, don’t take this the wrong way, but your father and I are worried you might have been changed because of your disappearances.”

That was putting it lightly, he ruefully thought. However, instead of agreeing, he asked her to explain what she meant.

“Well, you know we theorized you temporarily slipped into a different dimension when you were younger? It’s possible that somehow altered you. Pass reports of those ‘spirited away’ often report the person was somehow changed. Since before you seemed fine, save for the times we caught you staring as if you saw something we couldn’t, we figured you may have developed a sensitivity to the paranormal.”

He nodded. That made sense. Although, he was embarrassed his parents picked up on how he sometimes saw those shadows. Apparently he didn’t do nearly as good of a job as he thought at keeping that a secret.

His mother bit her lip before continuing. “But, this past time… something changed. I know you told the police you were abducted by a person, but the complete disappearance and then reappearance… and that none of you who disappeared could be tracked… and the injuries… and how that poor boy was found… it never made sense it was a human. And when you came back, the changes in your vitals, we knew there was something more to it. You don’t have to tell me anything if you’re not ready,” she added when she noticed his panicked expression, “but whatever changed might have made you something like beacon to creatures of other worlds.”

His mouth felt dry. His parents actually suspected there was something off about him, and they just accepted it? Should he tell them how much he really changed? No, Vlad was in the house. He didn’t need to know anything about it. However, he could start probing for some of the answers he wanted. “If… if I have changed, how…?”

“We’re not exactly sure what will happen in the long run,” she replied as she picked up on his train of questioning. “Old accounts vary, and it’s difficult distinguishing fact and legend. Anyways, Danny I just want to verify the thing that attacked us tonight and whoever abducted you on the camping trip are not the same thing.”

He violently shook his head. “No, they’re completely different…”He debated with himself for a moment. Should he tell her about Plasmius appearing? Or the thing Clockwork discovered? Or the horde that attacked Sam, Tucker, and their classmates on the way back? “At least, whoever took me, Sam, and Tucker was completely different. I don’t know what grabbed the others.” That was true enough.

Vlad remained unusually quiet during the exchange, but unlike other times where he seemed disinterested or involved, this time it seemed like he was mulling over something. Also, Danny hadn’t missed the way his eyes narrowed when he added on the information about the camping abduction.

A knock at the door spooked everyone. They turned to see his dad opening the door followed by a couple police officers. “I found the police!” he said with a grin. “They thought it was another false alarm.”

“False alarm? False alarm?” His mother stood and marched over to the officers who were taking stock of the damage with wide eyes. “My family gets attacked, and you have the nerve to think it was a false alarm? If my husband and I didn’t have the means to defend ourselves, we would have been killed!”

Danny just sighed and continued sipping his drink as he watched his mother scold the officers. His dad joined him. Both of them knew it was better to let her get it out of her system than to try to get involved. Besides, he’d probably never get to see police officers get chewed out like that ever again. Now if only he had some popcorn.

====

Note: if it hadn’t been implied earlier, Maddie and Jack are going to be involved/decent parents in this fic. It makes sense with how this story is laid out – their son has gone mysteriously missing 3 times. They try to keep an eye on him.

8 notes · View notes

hysterialevi · 3 years

Text

Eitr | Chapter 9

Fanfic summary: In an alternate universe where the Raven Clan is wiped out, Sigurd ends up being rescued by the son of a Saxon ealdorman, and is tasked with being the boy’s new bodyguard. Upon meeting the boy’s father however, Sigurd soon realizes that the ealdorman is responsible for his clan’s destruction, and secretly plans for revenge while hiding behind the guise of a Norse pagan turned Christian.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male OC

Author’s note: Real quick, I just wanna say thanks for all the kind messages/comments you guys have been sending me on tumblr and AO3. I really enjoy writing this fic, and it makes it all the better when I know you’re enjoying it too. So thanks again for the support. Means the world to me <3

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

FORANGAL CASTLE

THE DINING HALL

“I’m afraid there’s no shortage of Danes in Wedenscire, Aegenwulf.” Raedan said as the two conversed across the table. “Over these past few weeks, I’ve been seeing more and more of them crawling all over the place. It’s almost as if they’re migrating like a bloody flock of birds. It makes you wonder whether these Danes are local, or if they come from somewhere else.”

Aegenwulf took a sip from his goblet. “No Dane is local to England, my friend. They are all invaders; all outsiders.”

Bishop Hundwerth raised his cup in agreement. “Very true, my lord.”

Raedan furrowed his brow. “Well, unfortunately, regardless of wherever they may hail from, it seems that the Northmen have planted their roots rather deeply in our lands. I doubt they’ll be leaving anytime soon.”

“Any ideas on how to get them out?”

The thegn shrugged. “You know the vikings as well as I do. Those bastards are as fierce in political dialogue as they are in war. It won’t be easy to drive them out of this kingdom. The only language they understand is battle.”

“Then we would do well to keep our tongues as sharp as our blades.”

Lady Moira joined in. “Please, Raedan. Save the discussions of politics for the war room, and let us enjoy this meal that Aegenwulf’s people have been kind enough to prepare for us. We’ve all had a long journey, and I think we’d like a moment to rest.”

Her husband stepped down from his conversation, letting out a sigh. “Ah... forgive me, my love. My head is filled to the brim with warfare nowadays. I fear I have forgotten how to engage in casual chatter. But you’re right. We’ll have plenty of time to worry about all that later. For now, let us feast on this fine food that they’ve lain out for us before I become some bare-chinned ponce.”

The ealdorman chuckled. “Still the same Raedan, even after all these years.” He raised his goblet. “To your health, old friend.”

Raedan smiled warmly at that. “Thank you.”

Clinking their cups together, the two Saxons engaged in a friendly toast and downed the rest of their drinks, merrily enjoying each other’s company.

Meanwhile, Edric and the twins sat at the other end of the table and talked with Moira and her children, sticking to their own conversation as the food slowly vanished from their plates.

The gathering wasn’t quite as riveting as Edric would’ve liked, and Algar’s presence at the table admittedly worried him somewhat, but it was still more enjoyable than being stuck in the war room all day. He had grown tired of the constant debates and discussions of death, so it was a pleasant change of pace to take a break from all that.

He only wondered if Sigurd would decide to join them.

“So tell me,” Moira said, delicately cutting into a piece of meat, “how have things been in Forangal? Everything is going well, I hope?”

“As well as they can be, I suppose.” Edric replied. “Our people are strained due to the war, but we’re doing our best to push through it.”

“That’s good. And how have you been faring, Edric? I’ve spoken to your siblings quite a bit already, but you and I haven’t had the chance to catch up. Are things well for you? I imagine you’ve acquired an abundance of new responsibilities now that you’re older.”

The young man chuckled. “An understatement. These days, I spend most of my time joining my father’s side at the war table. If things keep going on like this, I may even join him on the battlefield soon.”

Edlynne cocked her head at him. “I certainly hope not. I’d feel much better knowing you were safe within Forangal’s walls.”

Henry gave a timid nod of agreement. “As would I. You’re dear to us all, Edric. I’d hate to see you thrown into the midst of all the chaos out there.”

A sour look spread across Moira’s face. “Well, it definitely doesn’t help when you have a Norseman wandering around the castle. Are you certain it’s wise to keep... oh, what’s his name -- Sigurd here? You’re sure you can trust him?”

Edric had a feeling this would come up sooner or later. “I know you didn’t get the best first impression of him, Lady Moira, but I assure you he means no harm. He is a good man.”

“I just think it’d be best if you found a man of Christ to protect you,” she countered, “rather than someone from such a questionable background. I mean, where did you even find him?”

Edlynne jumped in. “We didn’t find Sigurd. It was a fisherman in Agenbury who saved his life.”

“Saved his life?”

“Aye,” Edric said. “He was wounded when he washed up on the shore; barely breathing, in fact. A man named Wilfred rescued him, but his treatment wasn’t enough to keep Sigurd alive. So, we brought him back to the castle in order to let Linette take care of him. He’s been eager to repay us for our help ever since.”

Moira’s expression flattened with skepticism. “Hmm. Well, as long as he’s doing his job. Still, I’d advise you to be cautious. The vikings aren’t known for having a protective nature, after all.”

Edric decided to stifle his frustration for the moment. “...Of course, my lady. I--” he paused for a second, perking his head up in interest, “--well, speak of the Devil. Here he is.”

Turning around to face the door, everyone in the dining room brought their attention to the entrance upon hearing Edric’s remark, only to find Sigurd himself strolling through the archway.

He wasn’t wearing any armor like he normally did on a day-to-day basis, and it appeared as if he actually made an effort to clean up. There didn’t seem to be a speck of dirt dotting his face, and a fine tunic had replaced the shell of metal that usually covered his body.

Edric beamed brightly at Sigurd, welcoming him with a smile.

“Sigurd! You decided to come.”

The viking took a hesitant step into the room, clearly feeling a bit uncomfortable. “I did.”

Edric gestured to the spot next to him. “Well, have a seat then. I’ll pour you a drink.”

Walking past the guards as he ventured further into the hall, Sigurd’s eyes briefly flicked to the opposite side when he noticed Gjuki slipping in through another pair of doors, sticking to the shadows. The room had gone completely quiet ever since their arrival, but it didn’t look like anyone had caught on to what they were doing just yet.

Odin willing, it would stay that way.

Sitting down beside Edric at the table, Sigurd quietly observed the people around him and shifted awkwardly in his seat, admittedly feeling incredibly out of place. Even though he was more familiar with Forangal’s occupants nowadays, he couldn’t deny that Raedan’s family put him on edge -- even with Edric at his side.

They were nothing more than a set of new faces to Sigurd, after all. Raedan’s name meant nothing to him in this war, and it was obvious that his wife wasn’t too fond of him either.

He supposed he would just have to get used to it.

“You’re very tall.” Sibley suddenly said, breaking the silence.

Edric poured some wine into Sigurd’s cup, chuckling at the comment. “He is, isn’t he? A proper giant, this man. Still, you look nice this evening, Sigurd. You clean up better than I would’ve expected.”

The compliment allowed him to relax a bit. “You think? I guess there is hope for me, after all.”

“So it would seem.”

Moira’s beady gaze instantly locked onto the viking. “...Ah. Sigurd. You and I met briefly at the main gate yesterday. I must admit, I’m surprised to see you here after our... introduction. What brings you here tonight?”

“Edric invited me.”

“Did he?”

The young man spoke up. “Yes. I hope that won’t be a problem.”

The woman’s lips pursed in annoyance, and she threw a side glance at Sigurd. “No, of course not. So long as he minds his manners.”

The viking returned the comment with a glare. “The same could be said for you, my lady.”

Edric froze at the retort, already regretting this situation he had created.

“Sigurd...!” He whispered in a cautionary tone.

The other man let out a quiet sigh, deciding to hold himself back for the moment.

“...Forgive me,” Sigurd apologized, his voice stiff with reluctance, “I fear I can be rather... hasty with my words sometimes.”

Moira’s stare only seemed to sharpen in response to the apology, but she decided to drop the conversation nonetheless. Despite her husband’s silence, she could see that Raedan was unhappy with her animosity towards Sigurd, and she did not wish to cause a scene in front of her children.

Algar, on the other hand, couldn’t have been more amused by the display.

“Have no fear, Lady Moira,” the housecarl joked. “Sigurd may look intimidating, but in truth, he’s about as harmful as a newborn pup. You and your family will be just fine.”

Initially, Sigurd planned to ignore the taunt and simply carry on with his meal, but once he noticed Gjuki approaching Algar from the shadows, he knew he had to keep the man’s attention away from him, lest they both be killed.

“Is your life so devoid of purpose that you must resort to taunting me all day, Algar?” He asked, distracting him. “Or is this simply a new hobby of yours?”

Algar chuckled. “Struck a nerve, did I? I apologize. It’s unbecoming of me to attack a man who’s already down. After all, I know you can scarcely lift a sword these days.”

“Neither can you, it seems. It appears that your foes have a habit of... getting back up.”

Edric finally snapped.

“Enough, both of you.” He said firmly, setting his cup down on the table. “Is it so hard to look past your differences for one night? I invited Sigurd here because I trust him as a friend. He is here at my behest, and I would not see him disrespected. Now, please...” Edric let out a breath, “...no more bickering. We’ve got plenty of that outside of these walls already.”

Backing down from their heated altercation, both Sigurd and Algar decided to put the matter to rest for now and quietly returned to their meals, still eyeing each other from across the table.

Meanwhile, Gjuki gently snuck a hand into the pouch hanging from the housecarl’s belt and quickly patted around it, only to take out a peculiar-looking object once he found what he was searching for.

It didn’t resemble any key Sigurd had ever seen in his life, and the shape was undeniably rather odd, but the bard seemed to recognize it, so he assumed it must’ve been the same one mentioned in that mysterious note.

Gjuki gave the viking a subtle nod and began heading out the door, beckoning Sigurd to follow him once he had the chance.

“Sigurd?” Edric said privately, tearing the man’s gaze away from his hidden friend.

“I-- yes?” He replied, his tone now coated with a hint of urgency. “What is it?”

The nobleman examined him for a moment. “...Are you alright? You seem... distracted.”

Sigurd brought himself back to the current gathering and pushed his thoughts to the side, attempting to conceal his eagerness to see what Gjuki had discovered.

“I’m fine, Edric. Just... tired from the day is all.”

The Saxon didn’t seem to notice Gjuki. “Well, I don’t blame you. I know things have been tough for you lately. But put all that aside for now. Tonight, we feast. Let us cast aside our worries, and simply enjoy the evening.” He raised his goblet in the air. “To our loved ones, and the hope that we may see them again someday.”

Sigurd smiled at Edric, picking up his drink. “Skål.”

Tapping their cups together, the two of them emptied their goblets in a lively toast and carried on with the night, doing their best to stay in high spirits despite Algar’s presence. Even though Sigurd was mainly there to act as a distraction for the housecarl, he couldn’t deny that he genuinely found joy being in Edric’s company.

The man was just... everything he wanted. He made Sigurd feel like he mattered. He made him feel safe.

There were many things the viking found himself worrying about nowadays, but with Edric there to help guide him through it, Sigurd honestly wished he could’ve stayed in Forangal a little longer. And that frightened him.

These people were supposed to be his enemies; his targets. They were the ones responsible for the destruction of his clan, and yet... Sigurd couldn’t bring himself to hate them.

Of course, he wouldn’t object to seeing Algar’s head on a pike -- and he had his own grudges to hold when it came to Aegenwulf -- but everyone else in the castle struck him as no more than regular civilians. They were just other human beings trying to survive in this godforsaken war, and a part of Sigurd’s conscience shriveled up in remorse at the idea of harming them.

They didn’t deserve death, nor did they deserve Eivor’s wrath. But Sigurd knew that without the chance to witness their compassion face-to-face, his brother would be less inclined to show them mercy.

He would have to find some way to bring them to an understanding. He had no doubts that Eivor’s wounds remained fresh after everything that transpired in Ravensthorpe, and the last thing Sigurd wanted was to be caught in the middle.

There was good and bad on both sides of this battle, and he prayed he’d be able to make Gjuki see that. That man was the one thing keeping the brothers in touch, and in the end, Eivor’s impression of Forangal depended on him.

He was the only reason Eivor had any idea of what was happening in Wedenscire, and Sigurd could only hope that his messages weren’t being twisted with malice.

Otherwise, he dreaded to imagine what awaited them in the future.

~~~~~~~~~~

ONE HOUR LATER

SIGURD’S CHAMBERS

Stepping gently through the lengthy corridors, Sigurd followed the amber glow of the flicking torches as their flames danced softly against the walls, dimly lighting the floor so that he could see where he was going.

It had been a few minutes ever since the feast ended, and Gjuki all but vanished from the dining hall after stealing the key, but upon taking his leave, Sigurd found a note telling him to return to his chambers.

He didn’t know if something was wrong, or if the invitation was a trap, but regardless of what awaited him in the near future, Sigurd knew he’d have to face it eventually.

Everything he and Gjuki had worked for thus far was riding on this plan, and if something had gone awry, he wished to figure out what it was sooner than later. There was no telling what would happen if Algar learned of their schemes after all, and the last thing Sigurd wanted was to be caught with his hands tied.

“...Gjuki?” Sigurd said quietly as he walked into his quarters, opening the door as subtly as possible.

There weren’t any guards patrolling in the vicinity at the moment, and most of Forangal’s people seemed to be asleep by now, but the viking still wanted to be cautious. Algar could’ve been lurking around somewhere in the shadows for all he knew, and he didn’t fancy the idea of bumping into him again.

“Ah, there you are, Lone Wolf,” the bard replied from Sigurd’s bed, free from the confines of his helm. “I thought those Saxons would never let you go.”

The other man shut the door behind closed him, keeping his voice low lest it seep out into the corridor.

“You found the key, yes? Did anyone notice you on the way out?”

Gjuki smirked, holding the key in the air for Sigurd to see. “Not a single soul. It’s as if I was never there. Honestly, the most difficult part of the theft was having to endure Lady Moira’s bleating. How anyone deals with that woman is beyond me.”

Sigurd sighed. “Well, I’d rather take her over Algar any day. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is you were able to find the key. Do you know where to use it?”

The bard stood up from the bed. “I have yet to find an exact location, but there is enough in Algar’s note that I should be able to track it down. Apparently, this crypt of his is somewhere near Forangal, but hidden well enough that most people simply stroll right past it. It’s difficult to find even when you know what to look for.”

The viking stepped next to Gjuki, observing the key in his hand. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Gjuki thought for a moment. “Hmm. Not much, I’m afraid. All I would ask is that you proceed with your life as compliantly as possible. Do what the Saxons say. Follow their commands. Keep your head down. I know it’s... an unfavorable approach, but if I’m going to rummage through Algar’s belongings and find out what he’s hiding, I’ll need you to make sure that his suspicion stays low.”

Sigurd nodded, admittedly somewhat annoyed at the thought of having to take Moira’s insults without fighting back. “...If that’s what you need, then I’ll do it.”

“Thank you, Sigurd. I promise, I’ll return to you as soon as I discover something. Just keep an eye on that pier I mentioned. When I’m ready to meet you again, I’ll light the brazier. I think it’s best if we go over Algar’s secrets in private.”

“Understood.”

Gjuki slipped the key back into his pocket, striding towards the door. “Good. Then I best be off. In the meantime, I’ll also prepare for Broder’s return.”

The viking raised a brow. “Broder? Who’s that?”

“Oh, I never told you his name, did I? Forgive me. He’s a Dane aiding me in this investigation. He too comes from East Anglia. I sent him back to report to Eivor on the day I first met you, but I imagine he’ll be making his way back now. I’ll tell him of what you and I have accomplished here.”

A thought suddenly crossed Sigurd’s mind, causing him to stop Gjuki in his tracks.

“Wait, Gjuki. Before you leave...”

The bard glanced over his shoulder. “Hm? What is it, Lone Wolf?”

“Earlier, back in the courtyard, you told me Eivor was planning to attack Forangal Castle. That he wanted revenge.”

Gjuki nodded. “Yes, but it’s going to take some time. He’ll need more allies before he can muster the strength necessary to assault this fortress.”

A concerned look spread across Sigurd’s face. “Well, when you get the chance, let him know that there are good people here. Tell him that not all of them deserve to be killed, and that not everyone here is our enemy.”

The other man chuckled and crossed his arms. “...You truly believe that, don’t you?”

Sigurd shrugged, confused about Gjuki’s reaction. “And why shouldn’t I? Is there something you know that I don’t?”

The bard lowered his voice to a whisper, speaking in a manner similar to that of a snake.

“I see the way these Saxons look at you when your back is turned to them. I see the way they mock our gods, and twist your mind. They would lock you in a cage next to their dogs if they could, and yet, they chain you with an illusion of friendship because that’s the only thing that’ll keep you from retaliating.”

The viking shook his head. “You have the wrong idea, Gjuki. Even though there are some people here who would see me dead, there are also those who would defend me. Like Edric and his siblings.”

The bard laughed. “You don’t even realize that you’re being indoctrinated, do you? I know you care for Edric, but he is not your friend, Sigurd. I heard your conversation with him in the courtyard. You haven’t even been here for a month and he’s already asking you to convert to Christianity. Don’t you see what he’s trying to do? He’s trying to turn you into a thrall.”

Sigurd placed his hands on his hips, growing somewhat concerned about Gjuki’s paranoia. “No, he isn’t. Edric asked me to consider Christianity, yes, but he’s not forcing me into it.”

The other man wasn’t convinced. “...Not yet.”

Gjuki looked Sigurd directly in the eye, practically piercing through his gaze.

“Listen to me carefully, Lone Wolf. Even though I know my words will carry little meaning in a time like this, I still think you need to hear them. Before I met your brother, I was a slave to a Dane called Rued who used to reside in East Anglia. He was an argr rat, and spoke with a forked tongue. He did the same thing that these Saxons are doing to you. He displayed enough brutality so that we would stay in our place, but offered us the occasional ‘reward’ to keep us obedient. He was our friend from time to time, but mainly our oppressor.”

“This...” Gjuki continued, gesturing to the room around them, “...is your reward. And that...” he pointed to Sigurd’s suit of armor, “...is your leash. So take my advice. Break free from the binds that they have put on your hugr, and be ready to strike when the time comes. These Saxons are nothing more than vipers, and you’d do best to remember that. Trust me, I would know.”

Putting their conversation to an end, Gjuki decided he had said enough and began making his way out the door, leaving Sigurd with one last piece of advice.

“I know none of this is your fault, Sigurd, but do not forget where you come from, nor what started all this. You are only here because the gods were kind enough to spare you, not because these Saxons wanted you to live. So the next time Edric offers you his friendship, remember, his father would’ve killed you in a heartbeat if everything went according to plan. A hatred like that doesn’t disappear just because you raise a sword in his name.”

Gjuki pulled the door open, suddenly trapped in an uncommonly dour mood.

“Farewell for now, Sigurd. I pray that the gods will be merciful in the days to come, and I hope that you and Eivor will be able to reunite soon. It isn’t too late to recover from this mess yet, but time waits for no one. And it certainly won’t wait for you.”

#assassin's creed valhalla #ac valhalla #sigurd styrbjornson #male oc #female oc #sigurd x male oc #ac valhalla fanfic #eitr

9 notes · View notes

thechosenferret · 4 years

Text

Of Course it’s Precious Potter - Chapter 2

Summary: Draco has been tasked to steal a possession from precious Prince Potter. Little does he know, that's only a small test for what they need done next. Well, that is if Draco can carry it out to the end.

You can also read it on ao3 under the username TheChosenFerret (there’s a link in my bio, I don’t trust tumblr with links in original posts), or through my tag #Of Course it’s Precious Potter

_______________

Not wanting to give the world the opportunity to catch him in possession of a royal artifact, Draco went immediately to hover near the designated meeting spot to wait for his clients.

It felt like hours had passed before a reasonably dressed man showed up only looking slightly uncomfortable. Draco waited a few minutes to make sure he was alone before dropping carefully to the ground.

“Are we done here?” Draco asked, handing the guy the trophy, ready to walk away the moment he said yes.

The guy surveyed the item briefly, getting his confidence back. “Actually, there’s one more mission you’re needed for. Bring your company and go to the second meeting spot.” Then, taking Draco’s opportunity for a dramatic exit away from him, he practically disappeared when the sun came up to blind Draco for a moment.

______

The light streamed in, hitting Harry in the face, sufficiently waking him up, only then to have a few loud knocks on the door that do nothing but remind him of his guards.

Harry hurried through his morning routine, making sure that he at least gave an attempt at his outfit today before he ran down to the kitchen for breakfast, eager to get there early and not have to interact with people, especially today. It seemed everyone else had the same idea, casting him glances whenever they thought he wasn’t looking, but otherwise leaving him alone.

Not before long, Harry was put on a carriage with the rest of the Dursleys, no long in the comfort of people ignoring him. Well, at least ignoring him in a considerate way.

“Do we have to go to this?” Dudley pouted, fiddling with the button on his suit, angering the threads on the process.

“We wouldn’t have to if Harry could just suck it up and get over it like the rest of us.” Vernon stared at Harry as he finished, trying to make his maddened gaze sink into Harry. It wasn’t effective, however, as Harry just kept his head down, trying his hardest to go over the speech a bit in his head. Even if ignoring his “family’s” taunts were going to harm him more in the end, he just really couldn’t handle trying to listen to them right now.

Thanking Merlin that they arrived before the Dursley’s got angry enough to do something about it, Harry emerged from the carriage last, immediately trying to hide in the crowd of workers before he had to be responsible again. That didn’t last very long, however, as the workers then had to disperse to their places, leaving Harry with no barrier from the public’s eye. As soon as the nearby crowd noticed him, he straightened up and made his way to the raised area.

It figures that the most he would get for the event was a single wooden box. Whenever Dudley wants to make a ludicrous announcement, he always gets access to the great hall, no matter how sudden it may be. However, Harry’s yearly speech only warranted a box that likely was or is full of cabbages.

Harry unfolded his speech from his pocket, not that he needs it, he’s stressed and practiced it so much that it was gonna be stuck in his head for a long time. This is the single event that actually means something to him, and he’d be damned if he lets it fail, especially with Dudley eagerly waiting for him to mess something up.

Harry began the speech as soon as silence fell over the good sized crowd. It was slightly smaller than last year, but he always holds out hope that it will get bigger once he starts. He didn’t have to glance at the Dursleys to know that they’ve already returned to the carriage, most likely to complain about how filthy the public is and throw in a few jabs at Harry.

“Hello. Thank you all for coming out this morning. As you all know, my parents, former King and Queen Potter, died today 18 years ago. While I do not wish to bring up those memories again for you, I know that it is needed in order to keep their memory alive, and make sure that what they put energy into isn’t in vain. For instance, the last act they made before that day—the Family Act—to reduce the amount of kids alone in poverty—” Harry glanced at the carriage once again “—Has recently been conversed about in an effort to overrun, but it is yet to be decided…”

At some point during his speech, Harry couldn’t help but notice amongst the crowd the same set of blonde hair from his dreams. He didn’t have time to think about the logicality of him being here before he realized his brain was speaking on auto-pilot for too long, and that if he wanted to not make a giant mistake he would need to actually look at his notes again. By the time he looked back up, the hair was gone.

______

Draco doesn’t know why he did it, let alone stay long enough to listen, but he stopped at the edge of the crowd surrounding the precious Prince. As he listened, he silently cursed himself for not bothering to check what day it was. The anniversary of the attack on the Potters. Nonetheless, Draco stayed and listened as Potter recounted their accomplishments and sprinkled in silent jabs at the rest of the castle whenever needed.

Everything was going good until the Prince’s eyes landed on him, making Draco tense up. All he could do now was keep his eyes down (with a few brief glances up to see if he was safe), hoping that the prince didn’t notice him. Potter stared for too long for comfort before finally glancing at his paper again. Scared that this time Potter’s gaze would never leave him, he ducked down out of view and booked it. Realistically, Draco knew that he really really should not have done that, especially with him now both being late to the meeting but also having been spotted by the Prince, but for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to care.

______

Draco slipped into the designated meeting spot, hoping that if he was quiet enough his tardiness would go unnoticed. For once, it seemed that luck was on his side until he caught the side of his father who in return seemed to stare right into his soul, clearly sending the message that they will have to have a little “talk” about this in the future.

Draco tried to ignore that for the time being, instead casting his attention on the room. This was always his least favorite spot to meet with the way spiders can never be fully banished from it’s corners and it always smelled a bit like a rotten egg no matter how long it’s been since food has dared exist in this dump. It’s the price that must be paid with this being their most secure spot.

Around the room, he could see the rest of his company planning amongst themselves, waiting for the next assignment to arrive. In the middle of it all was his parents chatting and making notes with Bellatrix who seemed too delighted with herself as always. Most of the lower level members still went with wearing their mask all the time, but lately many have taken more of an ease with only wearing it when talking to the founder. Draco wasn’t complaining with that however, it always made his airflow too restricted to feel at all comfortable.

Soon enough the same man from the alleyway appeared and walked straight to the middle of the room, not saying anything before handing Lucius a letter. He stared at it, taking in the meaning before handing it to Narcissa who now had Bellatrix reading the letter at the same time over her shoulder. “20,000,” Bellatrix spoke up, moving to stand next to Lucius.

“15,000,” the man replied, staring Bellatrix down.

“21,000... for the argument,” Lucius added.

“No can do. My max is 15,000.”

“18,000. That’s the lowest,” said Narcissa. Clearly seeing that the man was still trying to work out a way around the price, she added, “This is the prince after all.”

“Deal. 18,000.” The man took out an envelope and hid it back behind his jacket for a second, his lips giving away the fact that he’s counting. After he handed the envelope to Lucius, he left immediately. His swift exit then sparked the same idea in everyone’s head as people started to exit through all the different pathways. Lucius handed Draco the first letter as he passed by, clearly intending for this to once again be his job to carry.

As he read its contents, all Draco could do was laugh at the fact that Potter had a diary. Technically, it was referred to as a journal, but diary is a close enough word. Draco made his way back home, hand tight on the letter, ready to get some sleep before he had to think more about making a plan for the following day.

_____________

Taglist: @devilrising @sweetlialia @ladyseidenlocke

#harry potter #draco malfoy #drarry #drarry squad #my writing #draco x harry #harry x draco #draco malfoy/harry potter #fanfiction #Of Course it's Precious Potter #drarry fanfiction #drarry fanfic #Prince!Harry Potter #Criminal!Draco Malfoy #Royal!Harry Potter

35 notes · View notes

eldritchteaparty · 3 years

Link

Chapters: 4/? Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Rosie Zampano, Oliver Banks Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Fix-It, Post-Canon Fix-It, Scars, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, I'll add characters and tags as they come up, Reference to injuries and blood, Character Death In Dream, Nudity (not sexual or graphic), Nightmares

General summary: Following the events of MAG 200, Jon and Martin find themselves in a dimension very much like the one they came from--with second chances and more time.

Chapter summary: Jon and Martin head back to the Magnus Institute, where Martin goes on an interview outing with Tim and Jon starts to catch up with Sasha’s “statements.”

Chapter 4 of my post-canon fix-it is up! Read above at AO3 or here below.

Tumblr master post with links to earlier chapters

***

Shortly after Martin’s phone flickered to life, he found a lot of messages waiting for him—and they were almost all from the same person.

Are you ok?

Message soon please.

Do you need anything?

Answer when you can.

Still worried…

He glanced at Jon, sitting on the other side of the bed and looking through his own phone.

“Sasha been messaging you too?” Martin asked him.

“Yes. And I’ve got one from Tim.”

Martin had that one also. “Telling you to answer Sasha?”

“Yes—and calling me something I won’t repeat.”

Ok, so he didn’t have exactly that one.

“All right,” Martin said a few minutes later. “Let’s do this, then. I’ll message Sasha back.”

“Wait—what are we doing? What’s the plan?”

He typed out a simple message to Sasha telling her they were ok and he was sorry for not answering sooner. “We lie to them.”

“Hm.” Jon seemed uneasy.

“Did you… want to tell them the truth?”

“Well…” Jon thought. “Obviously, we can’t. I’m just concerned that—”

“Exactly. And even if we did tell it to them, they wouldn’t believe it.”

Jon still looked doubtful. “Martin, I’m not sure if I—”

“Look, sometimes there are good reasons to lie. We just need to keep it simple, make sure it doesn’t get out of hand.” He read the message one more time and hit send. “Anyway, don’t act like you don’t know how. You’re actually quite good at it when you want to be.”

He didn’t mean to add that last part; it just came out, and it came out bitter. He looked at Jon again and regretted it immediately. He had come to realize he much preferred Jon’s anger to his sadness, especially when he was the cause. He opened his mouth to apologize, but as he did his phone began to buzz. They stared at each other.

“Jon, I didn’t mean that. I’m—I’m sorry—forget it, ok? I have to—hang on.”

He answered Sasha’s call on speaker, turning away to concentrate.

“Hey, Sasha.”

“Martin? Are you all right?”

“Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t answer you sooner. It’s been—”

“How is Jon, do you know?”

“Yes, he’s—he’s with me. We’re both ok.”

“Oh, thank god.” Her relief was clear, even over the speaker, and Martin felt a pang of something in his gut. He hadn’t had a moment to consider how much he’d missed Sasha, how unfair it had all been, and how much it felt like she’d somehow come back. It would have been so easy to think that way—except their Sasha was still dead, and he may very well have been responsible for the death of the person she thought she was talking to.

“You do sound better,” she continued. “Look, I really didn’t want to tell you what to do, but—tell me you went to a doctor or something?”

Martin cleared his throat, aware Jon was listening to the conversation. “We did, actually. We did end up going to the hospital. I think we were maybe in a bit of shock after all.”

“No kidding. What happened? What did they say?”

“Physically, we’re—we’re all right.” He thought about all the blood again, and decided he should add a little more. “I mean, we were very dehydrated. They put us on a drip for a bit. And—and antibiotics, just in case. But they said we’re healing well, I guess?”

“That—that’s good. What else? What about—not physically?”

“Well, they did a lot of tests. The kind where they asked a bunch of questions. They didn’t want to call it amnesia, exactly, but we’ve—we’ve got some memory loss.” Experience told him the less specific the lie, the better. “Neither of us really remembers what happened. And it’s possible… we might have forgotten some stuff from before, too. We don’t really know how bad it is yet.”

“Oh. That’s terrible.”

Martin looked over his shoulder at Jon, who had crept closer to hear better. He nodded, and Martin turned back.

“It’s not great, but the good news is they don’t think there are any deeper issues. I mean, they’ve got us signed up for all kinds of therapy, but they don’t think there’s any—how did they say it—no lasting cognitive impairment.” Cognitive impairment was a phrase that maybe came to him too easily after caring for his mother; he felt like he was maybe pushing it a little.

“Well, that part’s good. How are you feeling, though?” Sasha asked.

“A lot better.”

“Did they feed you? Do you need anything? Can I bring you something?”

“No, that’s all right. We’re—actually, Sasha, we were wondering if we could… maybe come back. To work.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end, and Martin cringed and held his breath through it; he didn’t look at Jon. He might have gone for it too soon.

“You want to come back? Already?”

He exhaled quietly, away from the phone so Sasha couldn’t hear it. “They said the more we could normalize things, it might—help? I mean, I know there might be some issues rehiring us—but maybe if Elias hasn’t replaced us yet—"

“No, I mean—you know Elias, he hasn’t even taken you off payroll. It just seems… fast. Are you sure you want to?”

“Well, if you’re worried, we don’t have to come back right away.” Jon grabbed his arm and Martin frowned at him, shrugging him off. Wait, he mouthed. “I know we might not be up to our usual workload, and we’re going to have to take some time off for therapy and all… I’m really only bringing it up because they thought it would help, but it’s completely fair if you don’t want to take—”

“No! No, I don’t mind.” She sounded upset, and he felt bad. “That’s not it at all. And we could use your help, honestly, but I really don’t want to put pressure on you while you’re recovering. Do you promise you’ll let me know if it’s too much?”

“Yes,” Martin answered. “Yes, of course. Jon too.”

“Well…” said Sasha, “When are you thinking about coming in?”

Um… hang on.” He muted himself and turned to Jon.

“What do you think?” Then, before Jon answered, he added, “And do not say today. It’s already after 2 pm and that would just be weird.”

“Fine. Tomorrow, then.” Of course. He sighed.

“Sasha?” He said, unmuting the phone. “Jon says—Jon says tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Really?”

“Yeah. Yeah, actually. If you’re all right with it.”

There was more silence.

“And I mean Sasha, I wouldn’t—I wouldn’t mind being around people. It would be nice.” That wasn’t even a lie.

“Ok. Sure, Martin.” It had done the trick. “Take your time getting in though, ok? And get some sleep tonight.”

“Will do. Thanks, Sasha.” He hung up, and turned his head slightly in Jon’s direction. “Happy?”

“Thank you,” Jon answered, putting an arm around Martin to press his mouth briefly to his cheek. Martin couldn’t help but smile.

“Yeah, all right. Just don’t exhaust yourself. Remember, you’ve got to eat real food and sleep real sleep now.”

“Mm.” Jon was already headed out to the sitting room where his desk was.

“What did I say, Jon?” he shouted.

“Eat and sleep,” Jon shouted back.

Martin grumbled to himself.

The rest of the day was spent washing the one set of clothes that he had, and going through the phone to learn what he could about his current situation. His passwords and fingerprints opened all the apps, but that didn’t faze him anymore. He was able to figure out from email and voicemails that the apartment building where this world’s Martin had been living had indeed kicked him out, but thankfully his belongings were being held in storage. He could pay two months of back rent and a late fee if he wanted to reclaim them, although it wouldn’t be until the following week.

Fortunately, Sasha had been correct that they hadn’t been taken off payroll—not only had they not been taken off, but Martin had been paid his full salary for the last two months. If he hadn’t already been convinced that Jonah Magnus was not running the institute, that certainly did it.

***

Although he didn’t successfully get Jon off the computer for it, he did manage to get him to eat most of a meal that evening at his desk. And while Jon didn’t get in bed at the same time he did, Martin was still up to hear him come in.

“Hey.”

“Sorry,” Jon said softly. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, that’s all right. You didn’t. I actually—something’s been bothering me. I wanted to apologize for what I said right before Sasha called today. About… you. Lying. I mean, we need to talk about it—what happened—but not like that.”

“Martin…” Jon shifted under the covers. “I want to talk about it. I do. You deserve that. I’m just…”

“You’re not ready yet.”

“Not yet.”

“I’ll—I’ll try not to push,” Martin answered, closing his eyes again. “I want to do this right. Or at least better than we’ve been doing things. Just… you try too, ok?”

There was a moment of quiet before Jon answered. “Ok.”

***

Going back to the Magnus Institute in the morning already felt much easier than it had the first time. It didn’t hold the same sense of discontinuity—it felt less like déjà vu and more like returning to a place he had genuinely spent a lot of time. Rosie was away from her desk when they arrived; Sasha and Tim were in Sasha’s office with the door closed, and they could hear muffled conversation through the door. Jon sat at his desk, but Martin decided he’d wait for Sasha before he even pretended to do something, and sat on the sofa instead.

“So,” he asked Jon, “how are you feeling, now that you’re here?”

“Good, I suppose,” he answered. “Well, not bad, anyway. I’ll feel better once I can start looking through some of Sasha’s statements.”

“They’re not statements, Jon. I expect you’re going to be disappointed if—”

“I just meant that I’ll feel better once I have some understanding of…” He trailed off. “Why do I need a pin?”

“Hm?”

“My laptop. I need a pin.”

“Wait, didn’t you have one before?”

“No. Sasha kept telling me to set one, but…” Jon sighed. “This would be a lot easier if we could remember things about this place when we wanted to.”

A thought occurred to Martin, something they hadn’t talked about yet. “Are you going to be all right, Jon? With Sasha being the archivist here?”

“She’s not the Archivist. There is no Archivist here. Not even me, right now.” Martin could hear him typing, trying different combinations of numbers, and could also hear his frustration growing.

“Hang on, let me try a couple things before you go getting all worked up.” He got up and went to join Jon at his desk. “And no, you’re right, of course—I just meant, are you ok with her being the head archivist here? At the Institute?”

“I don’t care.” Jon leaned back from his desk so Martin could reach the number keys. “Wait—is that the sofa that Tim brought in when—”

“Yes, it is. And it was a good idea.” The pin would have to be something Jon would easily remember, and knowing Jon, probably also too easy for someone else to guess. He tried Jon’s birthday; it didn’t work. He tried the street number of Jon’s flat, and that didn’t work either. “Hmm…”

“Well, I suppose professionalism isn’t as important when your entire area of research is—”

“Jon, hush.” Last four of Jon’s phone number?... Nope. He stared down at the keys and a wild thought entered his head. No reason he couldn’t try it, though. He typed the four-digit combination and was surprised to find that it worked.

“Oh.” Jon leaned forward. “What did you type?”

“I don’t know,” Martin lied. “I was just trying things. I don’t remember what I did.”

“Well, how am I supposed to get back in next time?”

“You’re going to have to change it.”

“I don’t want to change it.”

“Sasha’s going to make you change it.”

“How is Sasha going to know that—”

“Because I just saw Martin type it in for you,” Sasha said from the door of her office, smiling.

“Hey, Sasha.” Martin let himself smile in return—it was easy, if he forgot the last four years of his life. “Thanks again for letting us come in today.”

“Honestly, I’m already wondering if it was a mistake. I told you to take your time and really, it’s first thing in the morning.”

“Well, Jon just couldn’t wait to get back,” he said, reflexively rubbing the back of his neck. “He—hang on.”

He snatched the mouse away from Jon and clicked through to the screen where he could change his pin, while Jon did his best to appear extremely inconvenienced. “Oh, stop. Type the new one, I’m not looking.”

Jon grudgingly did as Martin instructed.

“So why were you so eager to come back, Jon?” Sasha asked.

“Oh.” Jon cleared his throat. “I, um…”

Martin interceded. “He’s actually been very concerned about—about the things you said have been happening here since we were gone.”

“I wondered if that was it. I’ve been thinking about that myself,” Sasha said. “I know you don’t remember anything, but the timing was just so… Jon, I know you’ve always been a skeptic—”

“And I still am. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for everything.” Martin thought maybe Jon would catch on after all. “But it would be quite the coincidence if it were unrelated. I was actually wondering if I might review some of the notes you took during your—interviews.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Sasha replied. “To be honest, I haven’t the slightest idea what to do with them. They aren’t exactly typical archive material. Maybe you can help me—”

“Morning, everyone.” Tim cheerfully disrupted the conversation as he slipped into the room behind Sasha. “How are we all feeling?”

“All right,” Martin answered, when no one else did.

“Great. Especially coming from you, Martin, because we are going on an adventure today.” Tim made his way to his desk and picked through a few papers.

“Oh?” Martin looked at Sasha.

“What Tim means is that if you are up for it, there were a few people who contacted us but couldn’t come in, and we haven’t had a chance to get back to them. I haven’t felt comfortable sending Tim to interview people alone, and well—it’s not really our job, and I’ve got more than enough actual work to take care of since—well, we’ve gotten a bit backed up.”

“What do you think, Martin?” Tim asked, waving the papers toward him. “Up for it?”

“Oh, well, I—I guess I could, yeah.” He glanced at Jon, who was suddenly sitting up very straight in his chair.

“Martin, I—are you sure?”

“I think so,” Martin replied.

“I’m just thinking that if something were to happen…”

“What—what sort of thing?”

“Yeah Jon, what sort of thing?” Tim echoed. They both turned to look at him and found him with a curious look on his face. “Oh look, if you two need to consult about this, please go ahead. Don’t mind me.”

“Yes, thank you, Tim.” Jon spoke through gritted teeth, indicating the sarcasm hadn’t escaped him. “Martin, just—come talk to me.” He stood up and took Martin by the arm, leading him out into the reception area and closing the door—but not before Martin saw Tim bite back a grin.

“Jon, what—”

“Martin, we have no idea what’s going on, or who or what could be out there, or—”

“Do you want Tim to go by himself?”

“Well—no, but—”

“Look.” He took Jon by the arm now. “I know we haven’t been apart since—well, not for a long time. And I know every time we have been apart, it’s been bad. But things are different now. This is different. You’ll be all right here with Sasha, and I’ll be with Tim and—”

“And with anything else that’s shown up since we got here. And if something happened, I—” Jon stopped and looked toward the floor. “I wouldn’t know about it.”

“Yeah, well, welcome back to being a normal person.” He squeezed Jon’s arm. “Look, if you’re really worried, I’ll come up with some excuse. But Jon, we’ve got to—we’ve got to try and be functional here. Plus, if you really want to figure out where things are—if you’re here going through the interviews, doesn’t it help for me to be out there? Talking to people? You know—like I used to do for you by myself all the time?”

Jon pressed a hand to his own mouth, thinking.

“Jon, I’ve got my phone.”

“Technically you had your phone when you went to look for Jane Prentiss.”

“Ok, I see why that’s not that reassuring, but do you realize how long it took for Jane Prentiss to—become what she was? And I will be with Tim, and—”

“Yes, you’ll be with Tim. Great.”

“Jon.” Martin sighed. “He’s just concerned. Ok, what if I—what if I look through the contact forms before I leave? Make sure I don’t recognize any names on them? Like—no bad names?”

“We don’t even know if it works like that.” Jon thought for another minute, but Martin could see his resistance starting to come down. “Look, I don’t want to… maybe I am being overprotective.”

“You think?” It didn’t really bother him to hear Jon say it; in fact, he got a bit soft knowing Jon felt that way, but it wasn’t going to help the situation to admit it.

Jon finally gave in. “All right. Do look at the names though—and if anything happens—”

“I’ll let you know right away. I won’t do anything dumb.”

“I know. Martin, I—” Jon looked up at him again. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He leaned down for a quick kiss, which Jon returned. “I’ll be fine, ok?”

Jon nodded, reluctant.

***

Despite another look from Tim, Martin did check the names as promised; there were only three for that day, and he didn’t recognize any of them. By the time they left, the thought of spending time alone with Tim made him more nervous than their actual task. He imagined that as soon as they were out the door, Tim would start peppering him with questions about where he and Jon had been, what had happened between them, or both.

As it turned out, though, their time together was quite enjoyable. Martin had forgotten how easy it was to be around Tim—that he had that thing he could do that just made everyone comfortable when he wanted to. They took the tube out to a suburb, and on the way, they talked about the weather a little bit. They talked about a new café that had moved in down the street a few weeks ago; Tim said it was all right for an occasional something different, but nothing special. They talked about what Tim had been up to in his free time. As it turned out, his brother Danny was getting married soon to a girl Tim absolutely adored. Martin suddenly remembered when Danny had come into town and visited Tim at work one day a few years ago, and he’d been amazed by how similar the two of them had been when they stood side by side.

I’ve met Danny Stoker. The urge to smile hitting alongside that awful catch in his throat was becoming a strangely familiar feeling.

Their first interview was with an older woman in her home. She had gotten in touch with the Institute after receiving their information through a friend of a friend, who’d heard a story from yet another friend. Martin really thought there wasn’t anything to it. Well, he supposed it was possible there was a ghost living in her television set that just happened to have moved in after her daughter had tried to help her set up a new voice assistant—but in all fairness, it seemed unlikely. The second interview was equally unimpressive.

Once they finished up, Tim made a phone call to their third interview subject, and announced they were headed back to central London. The man didn’t want to meet at home, but he was willing to meet them somewhere public; Tim arranged to meet him at a deli not far from the Institute. The ride back was pleasant enough, if a bit quieter.

“It’s getting late,” Tim said, after glancing at his phone. “We have time to eat first, if you’re up for it.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Martin was pretty hungry again by the time they sat down with their food. He supposed he’d missed being able to enjoy food, but having to eat multiple times a day was sort of annoying when it came down to it. He was just wondering if he should send Jon a reminder to eat, when he realized Tim was staring at him; he hadn’t touched his sandwich yet.

“Everything ok?” he asked.

“What happened?” Tim asked. “To you and Jon.”

“Oh, I—” Martin swallowed the bite in his mouth. “I assumed Sasha told you. We don’t—”

“Don’t remember.” Tim cut him off. “Really, though? Like—nothing?”

Well, here goes. “Really. Nothing.”

Tim regarded him thoughtfully. “We looked for you. Me and Sasha, we looked everywhere, for weeks. Well, everywhere we could think of.”

“Tim, I’m—I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” That was the truth. In fact, he was sorrier than he was going to be able to explain.

“Sasha took it really hard, you know?” Tim said. “I mean, you were at work when it happened. She felt responsible. Like it was her fault.”

That sounded familiar.

“It wasn’t,” Martin replied. “It wasn’t her fault. It had nothing to do with her.”

“I told her that. Every day. I don’t think it made any difference, though. And I’m sure it hasn’t really sunk in yet that you’re back.” Tim picked a small piece of crust from his sandwich bread and chewed it carefully before swallowing. “I mean, it almost seems impossible, doesn’t it?”

“What do you mean?”

“You were gone for two months, you left no sign of what had happened or where you were—and then you just show up again one day, making out on the landscape, covered in your own blood.”

“We were not making out,” Martin snapped.

“You were too,” Tim answered. “What’s that about, anyway?”

Martin didn’t answer him.

“Look, I have no idea what happened, but… I’ll admit, I’ve always wondered if you maybe had a thing for him. I mean, the man’s always been a bit of a wreck, and I’ve watched you defend him and try to take care of him ever since we all started working together. And it’s not like you got along that well, but I know you and it just seems like the kind of thing you’d go for. But I never thought—”

“You really don’t like Jon, do you?”

“What? No, I like him just fine. You know that. But I like him for who he is, and this just seems like… it seems like a lot after two months.”

“Tim, it’s complicated, and I don’t know how to explain it. You don’t—you don’t know what we’ve been through. What he’s been through, or what he’s—”

“I thought you didn’t either.”

Martin’s heart skipped, and then beat double to make up for it. “I just meant—look, I don’t know what happened, but I—I feel things I can’t explain. And I can say that it feels like it’s been a lot longer than two months since—since we disappeared.”

“Is that so?” Tim asked. “Just tell me. Do you not remember, or do you actually not remember?”

“I—I really don’t remember.”

“Why did it sound like there were quotes around that?”

“There weren’t.”

“Right.” Tim said. “Well in that case, I ‘believe you’”—he paused to make large air quotes— “and I ‘definitely won’t keep asking.’”

“Tim—”

“It’s fine,” Tim said as he finally took a large bite of his sandwich, then continued with his mouth full. “Whatever happened, I am glad you’re back—and whenever you’re ready to talk about it, I’m here.”

As hungry as he was when he’d sat down, Martin couldn’t touch the rest of his sandwich. He kind of resented the way Tim was able to keep eating. Tim had always been that way though, hadn’t he? Able to say what he thought without worrying about the consequences. It had taken on a different flavor after he’d found himself trapped at the Institute, of course, but even then, he’d stood up to Elias without any fear of what might happen. Even when he’d died, he’d gone out the way he’d wanted too—no regrets.

Martin wanted so badly to tell him the truth in that moment. Instead, he sat in silence and watched him eat.

A short time later, Tim grabbed a napkin to wipe his mouth. “I think that’s him. Our interview. Yellow shirt, black jacket.” He raised a hand toward someone coming through the door behind Martin.

“What was the name again?” Martin asked as he turned around.

“Hang on—” Tim pulled out one of the contact forms. “Here we go. Antonio Blake.”

Wait. Wait, there was something familiar about that name—shit. He’d thought about it too quickly that morning. He’d completely forgotten about the alias.

Jon is going to lose it when I have to tell him this.

“You’re—you’re Oliver Banks,” he said to the man now standing directly in front of him.

Oliver looked suspiciously from him to Tim and back again. “I didn’t—how did you know that?”

“I—don’t know. It just came to me.” Given what Oliver had to be going through, maybe there was half a chance he would find that plausible.

Tim gave him a look. “You know him?”

“Not—not really. Please, sit.”

Oliver continued to hesitate. “I’m not sure I want to.”

“Look—I am sorry, I didn’t mean to—I’m Martin Blackwood, from the Magnus Institute. This is Tim Stoker.”

Tim stood up and offered his hand in that easy, open manner he had, and Oliver tenuously accepted it.

“Please,” Martin said. “Whatever you have to say—we’d like to hear it. It might be important. Maybe we could… help.”

He didn’t feel great about himself for adding that last part.

Oliver slowly pulled out the third chair at the table and sat down. Martin didn’t know what he’d expected him to be like, but somehow this wasn’t it. He felt sad for this man. He looked so tired, but at the same time so ready to run. He reminded Martin a bit of Jon, actually, during the year after Jane Prentiss had come to the institute and before they’d realized that Sasha had been murdered. He supposed that made a lot of sense, the more he thought about it.

Tim spoke again. “You didn’t leave a lot of detail in your message, so—do you want to just walk us through what happened to you?”

“Well…” Oliver looked from one to the other of them again. “I’m really not sure you’ll believe me. To tell the truth, I’m not sure anymore that I’m not going crazy. I’ve—I’ve not been sleeping much, and it’s…” he trailed off.

“You don’t want to sleep because you’re afraid you’ll dream again.”

Oliver re-focused on Martin. “How do you keep—”

“It’s all right.” Martin said. “I just want you to know that I’ll believe you. If you want to tell us.”

They sat in silence for several minutes. Martin didn’t want to say anything that might send Oliver back out the door, and Tim followed his lead. Finally, Oliver spoke, quietly enough that it took some effort to hear him.

“It was a dream. Or it started with a dream. The first time, I dreamed that I was walking near Canary Wharf—I used to have a job there years ago, and—well, I don’t need to get into that, do I… The point is, I know the area. There were people around me, people I don’t actually know, like happens in a dream, but they all had these—I don’t know—tendrils.” He paused and made a motion with his hands, like he was holding something heavy. “I don’t really have another word for it. Like snakes, almost, but not alive like snakes. Just tendrils, everywhere, and they went through these people—like their hearts, or their heads, or around them somewhere. I really didn’t like it, you know, but also I think I knew I was dreaming. Everything was sort of pulsing and—and I was trying to ignore all of it, but when I headed home in the dream… Well, it was my landlady. She had lots of them, like black veins, running into her chest, or her lungs, really, somehow I knew it was her lungs. I woke up not long after that.”

Martin tried to keep his expression neutral. This was so much like the statement Oliver had made years ago in their world, to Gertrude, but it was also so different. Most obviously, it wasn’t a statement at all, it was just Oliver talking. That made sense. There was no Archivist here, either with them or in general, which Jon had so intently pointed out that morning. The words weren’t just pulled out like Martin was used to, thank god. And certainly, the people Oliver had first dreamed of in their world would have passed years earlier. The basic story, though, was the same.

“OK.” Tim nodded, scratching down some notes. “But I assume there’s more?”

“Well, the thing is—not even two weeks later, she—she died. Lung cancer. It was sudden. Undiagnosed. I’d almost forgotten about the dream, to be honest, but that… it shook me.”

“Understandable.” Tim nodded again. “So you think your dream was a—a warning?”

“Well, I mean—of course I was sort of struck by it, that day, but after a little time, it didn’t seem like such a big thing. She smoked her whole life. I know sometimes people know things they aren’t really conscious of, and maybe I just—knew she was sick. But then… it happened again. A man at the bakery near the shop where I work now. I barely knew him. It was his heart. And I—I dreamed it again. The whole thing. A week before it happened. And I just started wondering if—if every person I see in that dream…”

Tim frowned and looked toward Martin, which prompted Oliver to do the same.

“What do I do?” Oliver asked, and Martin swore a shiver ran through him—maybe it was from nerves or too much coffee or not enough sleep, or maybe all three. “I thought maybe you would—know something about this. Maybe you’ve heard of it before. Do you think—do you think I could help them? If I found them, if I talked to them—”

“No,” Martin answered. “I mean, I have heard of it before, and… no. You can’t help them. I’m—I’m sorry.”

Oliver worried at his lip. “I’m not—I’m not causing it somehow, am I? I was thinking that maybe—if I keep trying to stay awake—”

“No.” Martin shook his head. “No, you’re not causing it. You—you should know it’s not your fault. And if you sleep, or if you don’t sleep—they’ll still… they’ll still die.”

Oliver nodded his head, digesting the information. “So I can’t do anything. I just get to know they’re going to die, and I can’t do anything about it.”

“I’m sorry.” Martin wondered what he would have said if he’d had time to think about it. Would it have been any different? Would he have thought of something better to say, something that didn’t fall so flat the moment it left his mouth, something that could have actually helped?

Would Jon have said something better?

“All right,” Oliver replied softly, bringing Martin back from his thoughts as he stood up from his chair. “Thank you for listening. I—I think I’m going to go.”

“If you need anything—if we can help—you know where to find us.”

Martin wasn’t sure if Oliver even heard him.

“What the hell was that?” Tim asked loudly, once Oliver was out of sight.

“Nothing,” Martin answered.

“That wasn’t nothing. You knew that man. You knew what he was going to say.” Tim pointed at the door, waving his finger for emphasis. “And then you…”

“Tim, I can’t explain it right now.”

He turned his finger on Martin. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t like this.”

“I’m sorry. I wish—” His phone, which he had set on the table, buzzed at him. It was a message from Jon, asking if everything was ok. “Let’s go back now, all right?”

Tim shook his head in disbelief. They didn’t speak on the walk back.

***

Jon jerked up from his desk when they walked in, which was now covered in numerous hand-written notes and manilla folders. Martin suspected he’d maybe been taking an unintentional nap. “How did it go?”

“Fine,” Martin answered. “Did you eat?”

“Not—not yet.”

“Here,” Martin said, tossing the rest of his sandwich onto Jon’s desk. “I didn’t finish it.”

“Oh.” Jon peeked under the wrapper. “You barely ate this at all. Are you sure you don’t—”

“Yes.”

“All right, well—thank you.” Jon took a quick bite and set it aside as he resumed reading.

“Well?” Tim said.

Martin ignored him.

“Are you going to tell him about your friend?”

“What friend?” Jon asked, eyes still on the paper in front of him.

“I didn’t catch his name, actually,” Tim replied. “But I do know it wasn’t”—he pulled out the now-crumpled contact form— “Antonio Blake.”

“What?” Jon immediately stopped what he was doing.

“Jon—”

“You saw Oliver Banks.”

“Oliver Banks.” Tim deliberately overpronounced the name. “That’s right. Thank you, Jon.”

“Tim—”

“How could you miss that?” Jon stood up.

“It was fine! Nothing happened. I would have—”

Jon didn’t even need to speak to cut him off; the look in his eyes was enough. “We need to talk.”

“Please,” Tim cut in. “One of you talk, at least.”

“In private. Come on,” Jon said, once again taking Martin by the arm. Rosie was back at her desk now, but Sasha had temporarily stepped out, and they spoke in her office with hushed voices, without bothering to turn the light on.

“Jon, it really was fine, I—”

“Stop.” Jon reached up to take Martin’s face in his hands. “It’s ok. I just want to know what happened.”

“Nothing, really. He—he’s had a couple dreams, that’s all. He wanted to talk about it. He wanted to know if there was anything he could do to—to help them. I told him he couldn’t. I felt bad for him.”

Jon closed his eyes and breathed out, then opened them to look at Martin again.

“Jon, I don’t see what the big deal is. I mean, what does he even do? He sees people’s deaths, and wakes up other people’s”—he paused— “Archivists.”

“It’s not funny. Or that simple.” Jon let go and turned to face the wall. “Martin what if—what if he had seen your death?”

“Well then—at least I’d know? I guess?”

“Or what if he’d seen Tim’s? Or—or mine?”

Martin could sort of see Jon’s point then—but only sort of. “Ok, but—I still think we weren’t really in any danger. Yes, I messed up, and I should have caught that, but—”

“It’s too dangerous,” Jon interrupted. “You can’t do this again without me. And—and neither can Tim.”

“Oh really,” Martin responded. “And why do you—”

“It’s not just Oliver,” Jon broke in again. “I found some things in the—in the interviews Sasha did. Do you remember the thing we called the Anglerfish?”

“Yes?”

“And do you remember Laura Popham?”

“Um—”

“She went caving with her sister and—”

“Oh, right. Lost John’s Cave.”

“They’ve… they were in there, in the interviews. Already. In just two months.”

Martin was starting to understand Jon’s reaction.

“And I was hoping it was just those sorts of things,” Jon continued, “and no… avatars, but if Oliver Banks is already connected to the End—”

“I see.” Martin stepped closer to Jon to put an arm over his shoulder. “All right, I get it. Things are happening fast.”

“Well… most things.” Jon sounded a little offput.

“Wait.” Martin almost laughed, but not because he found it funny. “Wait, are you upset because you aren’t connected to the Eye yet?”

“Upset isn’t the right—”

“Now who’s jealous of Oliver Banks?”

“Technically that would be envy, not jealousy—”

“Technically yes, but that isn’t the—”

“—and I’m not,” Jon finished. “I just—I feel like I know it’s coming, and I’d like to get it over with.”

“Right.” Martin rolled his eyes, but only because Jon couldn’t see it in the dim office. “So what do we do now?”

“First, if there are more interviews to be done, they could be important, but… we do them together. You and me.”

“There are. And… if Sasha is ok with it.”

“And then I keep going through Sasha’s notes. And then I go back before that, just to—”

“Jon, you’re going to exhaust yourself.”

“Then I do.”

“No. It doesn’t do anyone any good if you—”

They were interrupted by Sasha’s voice.

“Jon? Martin?”

“Yes,” Jon answered. “Sorry, I needed to speak with Martin, so we borrowed your office.”

“That’s fine, but you didn’t need to do it in the dark,” she said, switching on the light. “So I was just talking to Tim, and it sounds like today was… eventful?”

“That’s not exactly what I said, but I suppose that’s the polite version.” Tim followed her into the office.

“Well, I have something to report, too.” Sasha sat down behind her desk. “I know I said I was going to get back on regular archive things today, but… well, let’s just say I got curious, and may have found a back door on the web to access certain matters of official police business.”

“Really?” Tim’s grin was back. “That almost sounds like someone’s misbehaving.”

“I’d feel bad about it, but let’s also say I wasn’t too pleased with the way a certain missing persons case was handled.”

“Good for you.”

“Thank you, Tim.” Sasha did seem very pleased with herself. “But that brings me to my next point. Tim, I know you have some… contacts at some of the local police stations who might be able to—supplement the information I’m getting? I could use your help with that.”

“Sure, boss,” Tim said. “And that should work perfectly, actually, because I believe Jon was just getting ready to forbid Martin from going on any more interviews with me.”

“That is not—” Jon started over. “I would like to go with Martin on any further interviews, if that’s agreeable.”

“I mean—that’s fine, and I certainly don’t want anyone going out alone,” Sasha answered, “but what about catching up with everything here? It seemed like you felt that was pretty important.”

“I’d like to keep doing that too. I might need to put in a few extra hours.”

Sasha sighed. “I was afraid you’d say that. Maybe? Let’s see how you’re doing next week.”

“Sasha, I’m—”

“—already worn out, and a very bad judge of your own health.” Martin nodded in agreement, and shrugged without sympathy when Jon glared at him. “For the rest of this week, if you come in, you’ll both stay here. Jon, you can keep going through my notes, and Martin—would you mind helping me catch up on some of the filing and patron requests? I don’t even want to think about how far behind we are. Those other interviews have waited this long, they’ll wait a few more days. Especially if Tim is able to help follow up with the police angle.”

“Of course,” Martin answered. Even if Jon didn’t think he needed to take it a little bit easy, Martin was more than willing to acknowledge his own limitations—and sometimes Jon’s, even if it wasn’t appreciated. “Oh, and Sasha—we’ve got therapy tomorrow morning, so we’ll probably be a little bit late.”

“Good,” Sasha replied. “And for now, don’t take any of those notes home, Jon.”

Jon stared daggers at Martin, but he didn’t regret it—especially not after Jon fell asleep on him on the couch during dinner a few hours later.

#the magnus archives #tma #mag pod #tma spoilers #jonmartin #tma fanfic #my writing

6 notes · View notes

biwenqing · 4 years

Text

comfort

Nie Mingjue isn't entirely sure yet what Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen want from him, but he loves spending time with them. Luckily, over dinner at Lan Xichen's loft, they clear things up. Sequel to surprises.

For fytheuntamed on tumblr's untamed spring fest day twenty prompt: Fond

G | Words: 1626 | ao3

Nie Mingjue took a deep breath as he stood outside the door to Lan Xichen’s loft. This was the third Friday he had been asked by Lan Xichen and Jiang Cheng to join them in watching bad movies. Nie Mingjue hadn’t quite understood the appeal. That was until he got to watch both Lan Xichen and Jiang Cheng laughing to the point of near tears at special effects and characters.

Considering how closed off they both often were, Lan Xichen with his serene smile and Jiang Cheng with his slight scowl, seeing them both so open and expressive felt beautifully intimate. And if they were both willing to let Nie Mingjue see them like that, he wasn’t a strong enough man to say no.

He lifted his hand and knocked on the door. In his other hand, he carried the take out he had picked up on the way there. Nie Mingjue had insisted that it was his turn to buy dinner, and he just hoped the other two liked what he chose.

Jiang Cheng was the one to open the door, and he smiled at Nie Mingjue, stepping aside to let him in. He then relieved Nie Mingjue of the bag he carried, bringing the food into the kitchen while calling, “I hope you don’t mind, Lan Xichen brought some of his work home with him.”

Nie Mingjue slipped off his shoes, placing them carefully next to the door and trying not to pay any mind to the voice in his head that wished this could be his home. “I thought you worked as a vet, Lan Xichen?” he called as he turned to the couches that separated the living room from the dining area.

The sight that greeted Nie Mingjue was nothing he could have prepared himself for. Lan Xichen was sitting in one corner of the couch, knees pulled up, almost vanishing inside a large white sweater. He had glasses on, and his hair was up in a messy bun. That alone would have been a lot to process, but what made this somehow cuter was the fact that Lan Xichen was holding a tiny kitten, carefully bottle feeding it.

Lan Xichen looked over with a soft smile, and Nie Mingjue felt his heartache with fondness. “We had some orphaned kittens come in,” he explained and nodded towards the box that was beside him on the couch.

Nie Mingjue came closer, leaning over the back of the couch to see the box was softly lined and had blankets for the kittens to cuddle in. He counted five, six with the one that Lan Xichen was feeding. “They’re so tiny.”

“They are about a week old, some of their eyes have just started to open,” Lan Xichen said. He passed the little kitten bottle to Nie Mingjue. “Hold this for a moment.” He then began cleaning up the little kitten he held.

Jiang Cheng came back into the room, carrying plates and silverware. “I set the timer on my phone,” he said to Lan Xichen.

“We’ll have to pause the movie to feed them again,” Lan Xichen explained, looking apologetic.

“I can help with that,” Nie Mingjue was quick to offer. He reached a hand into the box and gently ran a finger along one of the kitten’s backs.

“That would be wonderful,” Lan Xichen smiled, leaning forward to set the sixth kitten back among its siblings. “If you and Jiang Cheng feed them, I can check their weight.” His hands brushed against Nie Mingjue’s own as the kitten settled and Lan Xichen took the bottle back.

Jiang Cheng reappeared then and Nie Mingjue retracted his hand from the box and crossed them behind his back. The take out boxes along with some glasses were added to the coffee table. “So, what do you think of Lan Xichen’s work habits?” Jiang Cheng’s tone was teasing and Lan Xichen was smiling fondly at his boyfriend.

“I think this can be forgiven,” Nie Mingjue said, raising a brow before a grin escaped.

The box of kittens were moved to their own chair, and Lan Xichen plugged in a little heated pad for them. He then washed his hands before returning to his corner of the couch so he could keep an eye on the kittens. Jiang Cheng settled on the other side of the couch which left the middle cushion the most obvious place for Nie Mingjue to sit.

And while it was also the place Nie Mingjue knew he wanted to be, he wasn’t sure yet if he was allowed to feel this want. His sib had tried to explain how clear it was that Jiang Cheng and Lan Xichen were flirting with him. Nie Mingjue had focused on scolding Nie Huaisang for reading his text messages (how they had figured out his password he didn’t want to know), but their comments only made him question himself more. Nie Mingjue did not want to come between either of these two men and happiness. It was clear to Nie Mingjue how well Lan Xichen and Jiang Cheng fit together.

“Thank you for making sure to get the extra hot sauce,” Jiang Cheng said over his shoulder.

Nie Mingjue decided it would be more awkward if he kept standing and moved around to settle in the middle of the couch. “You’re welcome. I thought you might need it because-”

“You made sure everything was mild enough for Lan Xichen,” Jiang Cheng said, taking Nie Mingjue’s hand to squeeze ever so briefly before he focused on selecting what he wanted from the boxes.

While Nie Mingjue’s mind was still trying to catch up with that, Lan Xichen leaned over and pressed a feather-soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for being thoughtful,” he said, before turning to get his own food.

Nie Mingjue realized at that moment that Nie Huaisang had been onto something. Which really was too bad because that meant his sibling would pretend they weren’t smiling smugly behind their fan when they obviously were. He let out a sigh which brought both Jiang Cheng’s and Lan Xichen’s attention back to him.

“...Did we overstep?” Lan Xichen asked, looking at Nie Mingjue.

Nie Mingjue shook his head, gently bumping his knee against Lan Xichen’s. “No. I just... I didn’t want to assume anything or cause any trouble.”

Jiang Cheng set down the things he was holding and reached out, retaking Nie Mingjue’s hand. Nie Mingjue turned and met his eyes. Jiang Cheng took a breath and said, “Then we should have been clearer. We hesitated because we don’t want you to feel uncomfortable or pressured. But we were hoping that you might want to date us?”

Nie Mingjue felt he couldn’t be happier as the doubt that weighed on him lifted completely. Jiang Cheng’s directness was refreshing. “I would very much like that.”

Jiang Cheng smiled back, and while he pushed his confident front, Nie Mingjue caught some relief in the way his shoulders relaxed as well. “And not just because of the cute kittens?” The gentle teasing was back.

“I’m sure you also noticed there is someone who is cuter than a box full of kittens,” Nie Mingjue said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder at Lan Xichen.

Jiang Cheng leaned to the side so he could see Lan Xichen fully. His smile softened. “Yes.”

Nie Mingjue looked at Lan Xichen as well, even as he kept his hand in Jiang Cheng’s. Lan Xichen was blushing slightly and lifted his hands over his face. His sweater was so big though, the sleeves covered his hands.

“You’re only making more of a case of your cuteness,” Jiang Cheng said, leaning now against Nie Mingjue’s side. “Add that sweater to what a brilliant vet you are...”

Lan Xichen put his hands down and adjusted his glasses. The way he looked at Jiang Cheng was so fond. How they cared for each other only made Nie Mingjue realize all the more how he had been falling for them both.

Lan Xichen turned that same expression on Nie Mingjue and he found himself saying, “I want to kiss you.”

“Well that works out because I would also like to kiss you,” Lan Xichen said, and moved closer. It has been almost a decade since Nie Mingjue had kissed Lan Xichen, but it felt even more right as they did so now. It was rather chaste, but Nie Mingjue closed his eyes and leaned into it.

When they parted, they both looked at Jiang Cheng. There was nothing to worry about though because Jiang Cheng was smiling like the cat who got the cream. “How’s the mustache?” Jiang Cheng asked Lan Xichen.

“I like it,” Lan Xichen reported back and Nie Mingjue felt his eyebrows raise.

“You have been discussing kissing me?” Nie Mingjue said. This was really his reality?

“Yes, now my turn,” Jiang Cheng said and Nie Mingjue was happy to comply. Jiang Cheng’s kiss was more demanding and left Nie Mingjue a little breathless when it ended.

“I know,” Lan Xichen said when Nie Mingjue looked back to him, his smile turning a little more heated. But he neatly dispersed any tension by asking Jiang Cheng. “Mustache opinion?”

“Agreed, very enjoyable,” Jiang Cheng said back.

Nie Mingjue just shook his head with a chuckle and began to get his own dinner together. “What monstrosity are we watching tonight?”

“Sharknado 5,” Jiang Cheng reported with a wicked smile. “We have watched the other four, so it’ll be interesting to get an outside opinion.”

Nie Mingjue couldn’t argue with that, and settled back on the couch with his plate, sandwiched between his two boyfriends.

Oh yes, Nie Huaisang wasn’t going to let him live this down any time soon.

#untamed spring fest #nie mingjue #lan xichen #jiang cheng #mingxicheng #my fic #soft and fluffy getting together sequel!

47 notes · View notes