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dreadwulf · 3 years

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prompt #1: The Green Knight

(Warning: Major Character Death. Not the Major Character you think. Be warned.)

The Green Chapel stands still and silent when the Golden Knight arrives.

Once he had expected a fine cathedral to await him at the of his journey, but by now he is unsurprised to find a crumbled ruin overgrown with ivy. Only the stone walls remain of this “chapel”. The sunken paving stones admit dirt and weeds between them enough that it is barely distinguishable from the forest floor, and the roof is long since fallen in. Everywhere it is overgrown with thick green leaves and vines, and surrounded by a canopy of trees that opens only enough to admit a slice of night sky directly above.

Ser Jaime Lannister enters watchfully, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

The Green Knight is nearly invisible to him at first: concealed in greenery, grown into the landscape as though part of it. The bark of his skin is encrusted with moss, leaving no visible gap between himself and the plants around him. Judging from the growth, the Knight has not moved in a long, long while.

Has he stood exactly here for the entire year, waiting for him? It looks more like a statue, or a tree carving. Something long abandoned. Much longer than a single year.

“Ser Knight,” he announces, “I have arrived per our agreement.”

Silence.

There is only him here, and a tree that looks only a little like a man.

He is early, Ser Jaime realizes. Will be it dawn of the day, or the very hour of their meeting? He may be here for some time. It will be hours to dawn, and it had been another sundown after that when the Green Knight had ridden into Robert’s court on his enormous steed.

One year hence, the Knight had said. Well, at least he is not late.

The pre-dawn hours are quiet here, and the grove is peaceful. The trees overhead open out onto a pretty sprinkling of stars, and all the noise of the forest and the brook which has lead him here has faded away. He can see why the locals call this the Green Chapel. It is the sort of place that encourages one to pray, and to contemplate, at least if one is given to introspection and piety.

Which he is usually not.

The Golden Knight quickly grows restless. Waiting is not a skill of his. He is impatient by nature, impetuous and impulsive. Faced with delay he will rush things ahead, or abandon his course. Unless, as in this case, he has no choice but to wait, and then he will be overcome with unease.

He paces. His fingers twitch. His gaze darts around, landing on this and that.

There is no sign of movement from the Green Knight.

If he had not seen him walking and talking, he might assume this to be only a sculpture, and not a living being. He might wonder if he had been tricked, and if some unseen enemy hovered nearby laughing at his predicament. But he has seen the Green Knight up close, and ran him through with his own blade, and watched as the great gnarled hands pulled the greatsword from his own breast as casually as a thorn from his finger, and tossed the weapon aside as though it were a child’s plaything.

His hands curl around the same greatsword at his belt. He has carried it for a year, this sword. It was his prize for accepting the Green Knight’s challenge, and ostensibly he is here to return it. When he does, the knight will return him the same blow, and stab him through the heart.

Was it worth it? What, after all, did he do with his fine sword?

Ser Jaime sighs and sits on the wet ground. He can grow no more muddy and disheveled than he is already. He left King’s Landing in his extravagant golden armor, wearing his lion’s helm, and riding the finest horse in his stable. But he arrives in the Green Chapel on foot, with no helm, dressed in shabby clothing and battered bits of armor. Even his golden hair is shorn, and only a thin growth of hair remains of his famous golden curls.

The only thing of value remaining to him is the sword. And to be quite honest, the Green Knight is welcome to it. If he could, he would exchange it for something much more valuable that he had found, and then lost, along the way.

It had taken many weeks to get him here. There were some diversions - misadventures, a strange episode in a Keep, and a good deal of wandering around lost - but he has come a very long way from Robert’s Court to find himself here. He had managed the journey only with the help of his squire.

The girl had joined him on the road on the very first day. She was part of the crowd that had followed him from the gates, those knight-hopefuls who so frequently followed his footsteps around the city. Most wanted some of his glory, hoped for it to spill onto them by mere proximity. Some wanted merely to see him meet his fate, others to be part of that tale if they could. But there was very little glory in this journey. They had been beset by bandits, wild animals, bad weather, and strange side-tracks from almost the very start

There had been six, even eight of them at a time, during the ride through the Westerlands, but as he traveled further and further from the capital and the weather worsened their number dwindled, and by the tenth night there was only her. Her name was Brienne. If she had another he has already forgotten it.

She was a strange girl, ungainly large, and dressed all in armor, in imitation of a knight. She had a face like rotten fruit, softly misshapen. Her straw-blonde hair, ruddy and pox-marked skin, and stubborn pout completed the picture. Her very presence proved subtly irritating. If a maid cannot be beautiful she might at least keep herself out of sight; or else be a servant, who are barely women to begin with.

His followers quickly decided to make a servant of her. This did not go well. Ser Jaime came upon her fighting three of the men on the third night. One of them had blood streaming from his nose already, another was sitting on the ground looking dazed from a blow to the head. The last was seemingly unfazed by the fate of the other two, and Ser Jaime observed him take a good punch to the chin that left him spitting out teeth. They were trying to steal her supper, she said. The girl should be cooking for us all, the men said.

“She is my squire”, Ser Jaime told them, deciding upon it at that very moment. “She will cook supper for only me.”

“Like hell I will,” the ungrateful wench spat at him.

Ser Jaime raised an eyebrow. “Do you wish to be a knight or not? First you must be a squire.”

She did at that. She did wish it, very much. He can see it in her eyes -- striking blue eyes, with a determined gaze.

Brienne did cook his supper, the next night, over the campfire. Not very well, and he did not insist again. But she also tended his armor and sword, and that she did very well indeed. She handled his greatsword with tremendous respect and care, such that it touched him to see. He had long since stopped being impressed by the blade, after carrying it for a year.

Brienne proved a loyal squire, if not the most typical one. When wolves attacked she proved herself courageous, stood herself well in front of older and more experienced men. When there was work to be done she would be first to do it, and without being asked: gathering firewood, tending the horses. Drudgery she avoided, but practical, necessary things she performed without complaint.

She had very blue eyes. Sky eyes, clear and bright. He would have liked to look at them, except that she would be looking back, and that seemed to frighten her. She did not like to look him in the face. A shy maid, for all her armor and prickly temperament. He liked to tease her, and tell bawdy jokes with the other men until her face turned a pleasant pink.

A skirmish with the Brave Companions lost three of his would-be-knights and all of their horses,and it lead to their capture for a brief time. When they managed to escape, they were left traveling afoot, and without their supplies. His other followers drifted off then, losing their taste for adventure. Only the girl remained, and walked beside him along the road North uncomplaining through the long days ahead.

She was good with a blade, better than most. Not so good as Ser Jaime, who had a prodigious talent. But on the occasions he challenged her to spar with him, she got his blood up and roaring in a way he had not felt since he was a young man himself, and all his adventures before him.

She was kind. Too reserved to be gregarious, but generous in spirit. She took pity on every foundling, every poor farmer and milkmaid they encountered along the way. She wanted to help them, rescue them all; if he had not restrained her they would have been fighting for the honor of each individual cow from the Westerlands to the Neck. She was much disappointed that they hadn’t. What is a knight for, if not that?

She would learn, as he once had. The Knights of Robert’s Kingdom were more tarnished than a starry-eyed squire suspected. Heroes and legends in tales were only men in the flesh, and men with a bit of money and renown all went the same way. Given the best of everything they would indulge themselves, would grow greedy, would came to expect what had once been freely given. They fought not for gods and country but for glory, and mainly fought each other. They plundered wealth and women, sat by roaring fires, went slow, went soft, forgot hunger and killing cold.

Honor was a facade, nothing more. To become a knight was to learn it. It made him glad she would never be knighted, and fail that lesson.

“Entertain me, squire,” he said to her as they rode side-by-side, needling her. “I have heard all of the songs and stories of this land, and they bore me. Tell me a tale of yourself, Squire Brienne. What adventures set you on this course to become a knight?”

She bowed her head. “I have no tales to tell, my lord. It is only a wish, and an aspiration. But I have no adventures but the one we are on now. But you, my lord, are a famous knight, and must have many stories to tell. I would be honored to hear them from your own lips.”

Ser Jaime had hundreds of tales. He has boasted of his adventures to innumerable audiences as they looked on him admiringly, the great Golden Knight. Wins at tourney, duels with other knights, riding to war for King Robert. But for some reason, as he turned them over in his mind, he discarded each of his favorite stories one by one. He did not want to tell them now; those stories are not for her.

“I also have no tales to tell,” he said.

“Are you not on a quest, my lord?” She looked over at him quizzically, her blue eyes innocent. “I hear tell you are riding to the Green Chapel in the north…”

“I am, and to meet the Green Knight. But even I am not so bold as to tell that tale when I do not yet know its ending. But it sounds like you could, Squire Brienne.”

Again she frowned at him for that title. But she did know the bare outlines of the story, how the strange Green Knight had rode into King Robert’s court and invited the bravest and boldest of his knights to face him in battle, to strike a single blow and receive a blow in return, and for it they would gain his greatsword as a prize. How the Golden Knight had taken up the challenge, and in a blow of great talent and precision stabbed the Golden Knight through the heart, finding the weakest point in his armor on a single try. But instead of falling down dead, the Green Knight had easily pulled the blade from his own chest and mounted his horse. He told the Golden Knight to meet him in one year at the Green Chapel, where he would return his blow.

“And I see you do not hesitate to keep your word,” Brienne concluded the tale. “You are as bold and brave as all the stories say. But what will you do when you get there?”

“Fight him, I suppose.” Ser Jaime’s hand tensed around the ruby-encrusted pommel of his borrowed sword.

“Ser?” She blinked back at him in confusion.

“What, you expected I would meekly bow my head and be murdered? Of course not.” Ser Jaime’s shoulders shook. “Twas not a fair bargain, when he has such dark magic that he can take a sword through the heart and survive. I have no such magic, and it isn’t a fair exchange.”

“But you did not have to strike a deathblow. By the bounds of the agreement you might have only scratched him, and taken only a scratch in return.”

Well, yes. In hindsight, that would have been wiser. If he had taken the time to think it over, he might have put that together. But by nature he rarely takes that time.

“He was a large and fearsome Knight, and I thought only to prevent the return blow. Of course if I had known he would survive it I would have acted differently. I know it now. And when I see the Knight this time I will fight him with everything I have, and he will fight me with everything He has, and we will see who is the victor.”

“But you made a promise…” She sounded faintly disappointed, and it irritated him greatly.

“It was a trick, girl. A trick to snare a knight by his honor. Would you have me die for a trick? What good will that serve? No, I will keep my appointment as promised, but he will have to work to land his blow against me. I’ll have my skill and my wit to defend me, as he had his magic.”

“Are you not afraid, Ser?”

“Afraid to fight? Never. It will be a fine duel, perhaps the finest of my life, and I am eager for it. It will be the battle that will make my legend, the kind that songs are sung of, and I look forward to that.”

Brienne said that she hoped to see it, and let the matter lie.

She did not see it, of course. They came to the Crossroads instead.

An inn stood at the crossroads, and cast-offs from the Riverlands sheltered there. Orphans and strays. Jaime and Brienne arrived only long enough to see a great many helpless faces before bandits came riding, meaning to plunder the kitchens, and carry off the women and children.

Jaime told the girls to run away as best they could, and aimed to do the same. If they were quick about it, the raiders couldn’t catch them all.

Brienne, on the other hand, meant to defend them. They would not survive alone in the forest, she said, and if the bandits took away the food, the little ones would starve.

“Better the bandits take them then, one or the other,” he said quickly, tugging at her. “But we had best retreat. We will not manage another fight in our condition, and not without more men.”

This was entirely reasonable, to him; better knights than he had often advised the same. There was no glory in failure, and certainly none in a pointless death in the middle of nowhere.

“No.” Brienne grew taller under his grasp, and would not be moved. “What good is a knight if he will not defend the innocent?”

“You stupid girl.” He holds her by the shoulders. “There is nothing you and I alone can do against so many men, no matter how skilled you are with a blade. They will surround us and cut us down -- it won’t even buy any time for your orphans. The best we can do is live to fight another day.”

“Someone must do something,” she says stubbornly. “I will not run.”

“Not to no avail! A battle is bravery, but this is suicide. It’s foolish, meaningless. It will make no difference whether you intervene or not - either way the women are taken and the children are killed. You will only add another body.”

“Someone must fight for them,” she insists. “Even if there is no hope. I am not enough, but if there is no one else, then it will be me.”

With that, she had shoved him in the larder, with a sudden and ferocious strength, and barred the door.

“Let me free, you stupid child!” He slammed his weight into the door sharply with his shoulder, enraged.

He could hear her through the door, her voice steady and clear.

“Someone must fight for them. If there is no one else, then it will be me.”

“Damn you,” he swore at her. “Open the door and I will fight with you. Two against a dozen is better odds than one. Open the door!”

“You have an appointment to keep,” she said, and then there was silence.

Jaime could not see what happened after that, but he could hear it. He could hear the disdainful laughter of the brighands, and the drawing of many blades. He could hear for a time the blades clashing, and much shouting, and one unfamiliar cry of pain, and for a brief moment he was hopeful that she might prevail. She was a talented swordfighter. If they fought her one at a time he had no doubt she could best them.

He could tell, even without seeing, that they did not. The fight turned, became a slaughter. He heard a single cry that he knew in his gut was Brienne, taking a blow she would not survive. There came more noise then, more steel and blows, and then the screams of the women and children being dragged from the Inn.

He screamed too. He wept, and clutched at his useless greatsword in a rage, wanting to throw himself through the door and impale himself on them like an arrow, these animals who would dare to touch a true knight. None of them seemed to hear him, or proved interested in the larder.

He didn’t know how long he had been left sitting there on the floor, with tears on his face and the earthy smell of raw meat weighting him down in the cool darkness. He waited for one of them, any of them, to remember him in the kitchens and come back, but no one did, and that was how he knew that no one remained. He wondered if he would be left there to rot. To moulder away with the bits of cheese and bread that remained there until he was nought but bones and a borrowed sword.

Eventually, quietly, a small boy with enormous eyes unbarred the door, having emerged from his hidey-hole only hours after the vicious intruders had left. Seeing Jaime huddled in the dark, he fled again and hid himself away in the Inn.

Jaime emerged into the twilight reluctantly. When he looked down the road, he imagined he could see them. The prisoners being taken away in the back of some wagon, women and children and women who were really children still, huddled together and weeping, down the long road and away. It was all for nothing, all of this. The brigands had taken them anyway.

There was no glory in this defeat. There was only a bloodstreaked trench in the mud where a terrible battle occurred, and in the middle of it a sad heap of metal. She was unrecognizable there, cut to pieces. Only a few strands of pale blonde hair remained to know her by.

The blacksmith’s armory had implements enough to break the cold ground. He dug a hole right beside the crossroads while the rain bucketed down on him. His chest hurt from the strangled sob caught in it. He put her in the hole and blanketed her again with the mud. If there had been flowers anywhere in that season in all the land he would have found them and laid them there above her grave. One day, he hoped, grass would grow.

It was a meaningless gesture, and made no difference to the blue-eyed girl. But it meant something to Jaime.

It was not meaningless to them, the shivering children and the sad-faced women riding away in the wagons. They had looked back, mournfully, at the place in the road where her body lay. Looked back down the long road, into the distance, through the rain and the trees and the tramping feet of the bandits’ horses and out of sight, and they kept looking. They would look back long after the rain and wind had wiped away any traces of what had happened there. They would not forget. When the enemy came for them, someone took up a blade in their cause. Someone thought they mattered. Someone thought they were worth dying for. They did not face their fate alone.

When evil comes, so long as at least one person stands against it, there is still some light left in the world.

He left the shovel there in the road and went back to the Inn. It took some time to locate the boy and persuade him to come out of the trunk where he had hidden himself. He carried the boy with him North to the next village, where he left him wordlessly at the Sept, and turned North again, alone.

The rain never stops now. The ground is crusted with snow and the air is wet and mossy and somehow the rains never wash anything away. It only soaks into the dirt and grime and ice and blood and weighs it down. Makes it heavier. Makes everything impossibly heavy.

There are more strange things that happen to him then: how the road curves and wanders beneath his feet and doubles him back to the start as though trying to throw him off his course. There were strange dreams, and visions, and he walks in a sort of fever. Nothing seems quite real after the Crossroads, nothing except the sword in his hand and his goal: the Green Chapel. He has an appointment to keep.

He grows only more determined to reach his destination.

The nights grow colder. He wakes up shivering, rolling over, trying to wake the embers of the fire, and every time his eyes open they are looking for the foolish girl in her armor. They find only blackness and he remembers then the crossroads and the hole he dug besides the road.

He missed her terribly.

He misses her still, sitting here before the Green Knight. It is a persistent ache, a weight that grows heavier by the day. It makes him feel ancient to contemplate. He sounds like one of the rusty old knights who cluster around Robert, lamenting the roads not taken, the women they might have settled down with. Lost loves. It has been only days and yet it seems like years ago, and a road already overgrown and impassable. He can see it already, the enormity of his mistake. His life might have become something entirely different, improbably better. The opportunity came to him, and he wasted it.

Brienne. The Maiden Knight. She could have been his lady love and his brother-at-arms all at once. Would anything have been so perfectly suited to him as that? He will never find her like again, and even if he did he would not want it; he will only want her, for the rest of his life.

Jaime muses over these memories through the hours. The journey, the past, the world around him. Time seems to settle into a hazy blur.

The sun rises slowly, impossibly slowly. He cannot see it past the trees, but the world gradually brightens, with gentle insistence. The greens grow ever more lush and verdant all around him. The wall where the Green Knight stands turns from grim grey to a lively grass color, the dark ivy wound around in loops that seem to form an altar of deep mossy overgrowth around the still and sleeping form of the Knight.

His hands worry at the hilt of the greatsword that he had come to return. He might leave the blade on the altar and go. Would that fulfill his word?

What did Jaime do with his famous sword, during the year he had it? Only held it aloft for others to see. Used it to threaten, and to cajole. Boasted of it to other lords. But the only time he had just cause to draw it he had chosen to retreat instead, and in doing lost the only thing of any value he had ever found.

If only he had gone with her. Agreed right at the first, without hesitation. If he had stood at her side it might have ended differently. One had no chance, but two, perhaps, might have survived. He might have taken her with him to the Green Chapel. He might have taken her home to the King. He might have seen her made a knight, and stood proudly beside her at the king’s table. The tales he might have made with her, he would be proud to tell.

The Knight’s form comes into clearer and clearer relief: looming over him, impossibly tall, improbably wide.

Jaime knows with cold certainty that the Knight is going to wake very soon. As the light grows stronger, the Green Chapel is waking around him with a thousand tiny movements. He can almost make out the subtle sound of leaves uncurling to the sun, and worms crawling in the earth.

The sword, Oathkeeper, quivers in his hands, as though outraged. How did he dare to carry that blade to this place intending to lie? To break his promise? More and more he thinks he did not. He came here for something else entirely.

Jaime finds, for the first time that he can remember, his hands are trembling. It is one thing to go to battle, but another entirely to go to an execution. His heart beats in his ears with a deep drumbeat of doom... doom... doom...

He’s not here to fight a duel, is he? What, then, is he here for?

Glory? Judgement? Mercy? Absolution?

Or only the cold, mechanical means of his inevitable end?

Was all this journey only for that? Is he truly here only to get a blade through his chest? And if so, might it be worth his while? After all, is there any better way for a knight to die? Will it not be a fitting end to his legend?

But he isn’t ready to die. Not willingly. Not without redeeming his honor, making something of himself. If he had another year… but would he do any more with that than he had the last? Than he has with all of the years thus far? Is there any amount of time that would make any more of himself than he has already?

The time he needed was these weeks on the road with Brienne. That showed him what kind of man he’d like to be. But he failed her when it mattered most. Perhaps he should be judged for that. Not a year from now, nor twenty. Today.

The sun rises higher in the sky, and paints the Green Chapel gold. The air warms, and birdsong calls to him on the breeze. The day is relentlessly pleasant, with a promise of endless more such days to follow. A bittersweet longing fills him. It has never seemed half so lovely to be alive as it does in this beautiful place. If only he could have brought her here.

I will be brave, he says to himself. Like Brienne.

All at once there is a great creaking sound of wood bending and tearing, and when Jaime looks up the green altar is moving. Green leaves tremble and wave purposefully, and twigs and small branches snap and fall away to rest in the dirt below. The trunk of the altar pulls itself free, excavates itself from the enclosure in the leaves and branches. Limbs pull free, and something nearly human rises out of the green, the bark of its skin glistening, newborn.

The Green Knight is standing.

Jaime looks up, and up, and up, from where he sits on the mossy floor of the green chapel, and his hand grips the hilt of his sword.

He is ready to fight, by instinct, and to flee, by sudden impulse. He is afraid, he realizes, afraid in a way he has never been before. There is more than a blow to the heart to fear here. There is the fate of his soul, which is suddenly entirely in question. Before his journey he had no doubt of his own worth as a knight, and now he is just as certain in the opposite direction. Is he worthy? He is not. He is not.

Slowly, he stands. The sun shines down on him through the same corridor in the trees where he had watched the stars the night previous, and its warmth is a rebuke; why should the sun shine upon one such as him? He is the golden knight no more. He is only a man, a man with a sword that does not belong to him.

His eyes raise last of all.

Jaime finds through the golden light the Green Knight’s face. The eyes first, through a thin bloom of leaves and moss, and then the nose, the jawline. He has never seen it so clearly before, not even when he had stabbed her through the heart. With slow realization his eyes travel down and up again, taking in the shape of his host, and her nature.

The Green Knight is a woman? Why didn’t he realize it before?

It seems only too clear now. The slight narrowing of the waist and wrists, and in the face… not a pretty face, but undeniably feminine. Full lips, round cheeks, and the eyes...

Blue eyes. Beautiful blue, sad blue, noble and sorry. The lost blue of long-forgotten clear skies.

When he sees them his hands stop shaking. All is well. His grand sword slips from his fingers and settles softly in the grass, sinks gently into the ground, is welcomed.

“It’s you,” he says. “I’m glad it’s you.”

The girl from the Crossroads is standing before him.

He doesn’t understand how it is possible. Was she always the Knight? Was all an illusion? Was the Knight in disguise when he met her, or was the Knight once that girl? But it doesn’t matter. Whoever she is, she is here now, and it is good and right that this happen to him.

Her voice is low and rusty, like a hinge that has not moved in many years, and slow in its opening.

“You... kept... our appointment,” the Knight creaks.

His mouth is gone dry. “One year hence. You gave me time enough. And so I am here.”

He thinks he sees her smile, faintly. With the crackling sound of breaking branches, the Knight gestures to his feet.

“You... dropped your sword... my Lord.” Ser Jaime glances down at Oathkeeper, already disappearing beneath the twining vines on the forest floor. “Is it not time... for our blades to cross? A duel to make your legend?”

“I made you a promise,” he says faintly, and puts a hand over his unguarded heart. “It seems my word is all I have, and if it means nothing to anyone else, it means something to me.”

She smiles. An oaken hand reaches out and touches him on the face, gently. “My brave knight.”

Her eyes are the bluest skies he has ever seen. He is not afraid. Not anymore.

“Are you ready?” she asks him, still stroking his cheek.

“Yes.” He is eager for it now. “Strike your blow.”

“Straight through the heart,” she agrees. Then she reaches out with her other hand to touch the other side of his face.

She kisses him.

#dreadwulf fic #jaime lannister #braime

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cryptidax · 3 years

Text

Fallen Aliases

-DISCLAIMER: This is my first attempt in angst so please remember that as you read!!

-Word Count: around 1,605 words

-The reader here is, once again, NOT the traveler. They are a high-ranking member of the Liyue Qixing and have a personality based on Xingqiu and Rosaria but share the same hunger for battle as Tartaglia. They also use a polearm as a weapon and have a vision. :)

NAMES, such a common thing, yet it holds such significance to even the immortals. Cursing one's name might result in you breathing your last; Praising someone else's title might flatter them; Falling for another's alias might result in your end. The people of Teyvat hold names in such high regard, yet. Why, why did you love someone when you didn't even know their name?

Ah yes. The truth is as clear as day now. It was because you were blind. As the elders would call it, You were a fool in love. Despite that, why do you hold all the memories with him in such a fond manner? The day when you met can still be remembered as clear as the water in the ponds of Qingce Village.

The feeling of your polearm in your hand and your vision hanging from your belt is something that exhilarated you. Especially now, with several new foes for you to beat in front of you.

"This is much more interesting than doing boring paperwork, don't you think?"

From an outsider's perspective, seeing a Qixing member speaking to some Ruin machinations in the middle of the night would make them think they are going crazy. After all, all the Qixing members are dignified and elegant people who have enough ambition and power to uphold the will of Rex Lapis despite being mortal. People who are as clear and transparent of their ways just like Morax. (Y/N) is the hidden spear of the Qixing, a weapon with dangerous potential yet remains covered to the public. One minute they could be speaking in front of the Milileth about their new plans for defense; next, they could be slicing down several Ruin hunters by the coast of Liyue and laughing as if they are playing with toys while doing so.

"It's a shame such ancient machinations must be shut down.. oh well, Night Night little robots.~"

Using their elemental burst to enhance their weapon, (Y/N) swings it in a clockwise motion to finish the ruin hunters and watch as they fall only to disintegrate into blue dust. Hearing the ruffling of the bushes beside them, they ready their weapon once again and turn around to meet a new foe.

"Whoever you are, come out now, and I might be merciful tonight."

Anticipating a new fight, the Qixing member was let down as they see an orange mop of hair instead of a beast or machination to face.

"Well, you are disappointing." (Y/N) bluntly said as they stared down the newcomer. The (h/c)-haired person observed the hydro vision hanging framed in a Sneznayan designed border from the blue-eyed stranger and readied their vision for combat once again.

"I never knew the Liyue Qixing were so hospitable to others." the newcomer stated in a playfully sarcastic manner. "Anyways, You can call me Childe, (Y/-"

Cutting him off as he was about to say their name, (Y/N) hostility asked many questions towards Childe, Each question containing less friendliness as the last. The Sneznayan answered all these questions without fail, yet (Y/N) never let down their guard.

"Master Childe!!"

The duo turns to the noise to see a female fatui member loudly calling out for superior while forcefully making her way through several large faunas.

"Well, that's my call to go Mx. Bigshot. See you next time!"

Childe childishly says as he quickly goes towards the fatui member. You could hear him loudly playfully shouting back at her by repeating her name. Shaking their head in a joking manner, the (h/c)-nette heads their way back to the office, dreading the paperwork they have to write as a report of what they had done for the night.

This schedule goes on every night for several weeks. (Y/N) goes to clear out monsters, Childe appears out of nowhere and helps out with destroying them, talks a bit, says goodbyes, and repeats the next night. (Y/N) has tried to stop him, but he keeps insisting to the point where he would keep his arms around them unless they allow him to stay.

A blind man could see how in love they were, from the way they looked at each other when they slay monsters in the night, to the way each would hold each other's gaze for more than one would consider professional.

They were in love.

The elders called it beautiful. Singles held jealous looks to their relationship yet congratulated them nonetheless. Children fawned to their parents on how they wanted to grow up to have what they had. The two held hope that despite who they are, what they do for a living. They hoped that they at least can have this one thing that can share.

But oh, What fools were they to believe that two mortals can forever ignore reality.

The day started so pure as if the archons all agreed to give humanity one good day, A pair of lovers waking up to gaze at each other lovingly as they murmured random and insignificant news to each other sweetly. To others, this may be unimportant considering how much influence these two people have over their respective nations, but these two moments like these mean the world to them. Sadly, they must head up and attend to their duties. Giving a goodbye kiss to each other, both get ready for their work before going out to each work locations. If (Y/N) bothered to look back to awhile longer when they gave each other a goodbye, they would see underlying melancholy in the eyes of their lover. Maybe that would have been the key to keeping their relationship.

It truly is sad how relationships take so long to build up. Yet be shattered in just the snap of one's fingers.

Hearing the closing of the front door, (Y/N) looks up to see the tired and beaten form of their lover bandaged up. It honestly broke their heart to go and comfort him, But what needs to be done is more important. Not only for them but for their co-workers who care for them, and for the citizens of Liyue who were affected by the awakening of the ancient sea god.

"Childe."

His name. A name that flowed out of their mouth with a tone sweet as honey. Now felt like they were eating sandpaper as they said it.

Looking up to see the blank yet hurt look from his lover, Childe, the eleventh fatui harbinger, felt something that he has not gotten for several years from someone that does not share his blood. Guilt.

"(Y/N) I can explai-"

"Save it."

Giving a sad smile to the fatui in front of them, they blankly say how they know how he caused the disaster. Each word seems to be like another arrow being shot towards the Sneznayan as his lover said it in such a way that it was impossible not to question his actions. Maybe this would've been more bearable if his lover was angry and was rapidly throwing insults, but they said it in an accepting way. Like they anticipated that this would happen, and that. That somehow made him feel more hurt than if the latter happened.

"Childe, or should I call you Tartaglia,"

People say that second chances are the cultivators of a better relationship,

"I believed we could've made this work in a way that we can pretend we are not two opposing people."

They say that hardships like these would blossom into a memory that they could recount with a nostalgic smile.

"I promised that we would get through this together,"

But love is a battlefield and in the relationship of (Y/N), the sword of the qixing, and Childe, a warrior of Sneznaya. That statement quite too literal.

"Ha... I apologize, but that promise is one I cannot keep, not after that disaster you have summoned..."

There are no second chances in battle,

"I loved you, but now... I see that I do not even know who you are."

For once you swing your weapon,

"Goodbye Childe, For our sake, I hope we never see each other again."

You have no chance to take it back.

Hiding their tears as they walk out of their old abode, never looking back in fear that they will not stand firm in their decision. (Y/N)'s heart cracks each step they take, mind plagued by scenarios of what else they could've done. Walking turns to jogging and jogging to running, the Qixing member rushes to their new residence, an apartment in Liyue Harbor, and opens then shuts the door quickly. They slump down on the floor, wanting to cry. Time seems to stop as (Y/N) reaches up to touch their face.

"Why can't I cry?"

It seems like the archons won't even give them the comfort of tears.

Seeing the fading silhouette of his ex-lover as they walk away, Childe solemnly walks to their, now only his, room and opens his drawer to get out a small velvet box. With a sad look and teary eyes, he opens the box to reveal a beautiful Varunada Lazurite ring. A ring that he hoped would've been placed on the finger of who he loves. The young lord holds the item close to his chest and quietly whispers through choked sobs,

"But I love you (Y/N).."

After so many years, the eleventh harbinger, an instrument of war, the big brother of several siblings, the annoying co-worker of the harbingers. Childe, Tartaglia, Ajax... Cries. At this moment, all the sides of one man weep.

Fate must be satisfied. They just punished a catalyst of death, A being who gets excitement from a battle, a person that should be victim to the full wrath of the archons. No matter how good a person acts, blood will forever stain their hands. By this law, Childe, Tartaglia, Ajax is a wicked being. He is an evil man... right?

#childe x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #ajax x reader #tartaglia x reader #wtf do u have so many names #haha #i have no idea how to write angst #is this even sad?#ill go edit and fix this up later

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that-tall-queer-bassist · 3 years

Text

My personal Pros and Cons of my ADHD

Pros

-noticing all the little details and appreciating them in the fullest

-Emotional Dysregulation, because when I get a new plant, or find that one oddly shaped metal marble I lost a while ago, I am so excited it’s pathetic, but I love that feeling of pure joy.

-hyperfixation of the week/day/hour (i know some people describe it differently, let me be pls) . I usually switch between art mediums, and/or a few video games/social media sites. for example, I’ve been on tumblr for 3 hours as i write this, after not touching it for, i think a month?

-nuerodivergent friends. They’re just better.

-the ability to completely drown myself in information to ignore reality. Is it healthy? no. But i simply cannot handle another existiential crissi rn, so i will instead play minecraft while listening to alt rock playlists on youtube because getting spotify sounds like a lot of work.

-my ability to retain absolutely useless information, from either my, or my other nuerodivergent friends hyperfixations/special interests. I can explain to you in terrible formatting if it’s out loud, the evolution, history, training, anatomy and roles of the horse in our world, and how ao3 works, and what makes or breaks a fanfiction.

-Object Impermanence. When i literally hide myself a treat or surprise and forget about it, then get so excited when i do find/discover it again. I hide google questions, and/or song lyrics in my tabs :) its so fun. Also, hiding away stressors. Again, healthy? no, but i don’t feel like having anxiety all day, so whatever.

-Emotional Dysregulation, again. I can switch from sad or angry to happy and excited/content in a few seconds. It’s also great for getting my siblings out of their funk. ex., my sister is mad at me. I make a silly voice repeating what she said or cross my eyes at her. she laughs, then we can talk and have constructive conversation about why she shouldn’t get that upset about me “cutting off her reading time” when we share a room and I want to sleep, and know that she will be very tired tomorrow if she doesn’t also go to sleep. (We have this conversation almost every single night, i’m not even joking)

Cons

-Emotional Dysregulation. When i get upset, I’m Upset. Like, big time, ruining friendships and familial ties if i let it get out of hand, Upset. Yeah.

-Time Blindness. Constantly late, or early, or under or over estimating the amount of time it takes to do a thing, not eating til 4 because you forgot but you also should just wait til dinner, but now its 9 and I still haven’t eaten-

-Executive Dysfunction. I can’t do the things needed to function. Don’t have the mental energy to explain this one, so google it i guess? There’s a whole checklist of things you need to be able to do to function, and i can do like, three on a good day.

-Sleeping Trouble. People with adhd have trouble falling asleep, staying asleep, and waking up. So, sleeping trouble. So I’m constantly tired.

-Internal Clock is SLIGHTLY OFF. Nuerotypicals have that normal sleep schedule. Adhd ers have it shifted forward by, i think, 2, 3 hours. So we go to sleep later, and wake up later, and that’s the only way to get a healthy amount of sleep. My entire family also eats dinner super late, which might be because we’re weird, but I suspect the inner clock thing cuz we all got adhd.

-Object Impermanance. I hid my math homework one time. I failed that class.

-Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria. Never trying, or starting cuz I’m so terrified to get a bad reaction. Constantly masking around certain people to appeal to the few of my Nuerotypical friends. Or, y’know, majority of my extended family. They’re ableist. and homophobic. And transphobic. And racist. and sexist. The list goes on, but, yeah. Never coming out to them! :D

-Masking. It’s exhausting and I can only handle so much of it.

-Not Masking around nuerotypicals. The shoot down after finally revealing my true thoughts, urges, feelings, stims, etc. just sucks. Super disheartening.

-Squirrel or shiny jokes when they’re made by people without adhd. Yes, I do get distracted by squirrels, and shiny things, and dice. Stop pointing it out, and/or putting me into yet another box of your labeling.

-saying that I’m lazy, worthless, or a disaster when really it’s not helping. I already have that internal monologue, you adding to it and giving it some truth/extra ammunition is not. helping.

-Emotional Dysregulation. Again, because mood swings. like, I’m trying to be rightfully angry with you. Stop making me laugh with you’re silly faces or pointing out of a weird face someone made in a picture you took.

-the stigma about the hyperactive subtype. I’m inattentive. I have No Energy. Ever. Sometimes i have restlessness, but there is still no energy. Stop portraying me as bouncing off the walls, especially with caffeine. Caffeine just catches my body speed up to my brain speed, settling me down a bit, at least mentally.

-people not getting when i say I’m overstimulated, or need some time alone to process or re-energize, and following me, or continuing to do the overstimulating thing. I will literally. lose. my. mind.

-when people shut me down after I share something that is really important to me, or make fun of me for liking something an “abnormal” amount. Flashbacks to overnight camp, when whenever I said anything about horses, they said I had to do five squats, and when i got really excited about discussing the differences in riding styles/types with another person who really liked horses, but rode english, they said that it was obnoxious, when i was just.. excited to finally find someone to talk to and who felt the same way after, basically, years and years of no one getting it or wanting to listen or talking with me about the thing. To this day I don’t discuss horses with anyone, cuz it hurts so much remembering that, and the fear of it happening again is still there.

-seeing other people be ashamed about their adhd and hesitant to mention until i talk, like, super openly about having it, in like, the first 5 minutes of knowing each other. It just.. hurts.

-I’m super empathetic, not in a way that’s helpful though. Like, wincing, or limping myself because I saw you drop something on your foot, and am imagining it so vividly that it feels like it happened to me. Reading a fic about abuse or depression, and it hitting too hard and hurting me almost physically, and on a personal level because I simply cannot handle it. Feeling someone else’s pain so vividly that i can’t comfort or help them in any way, because I am so preoccupied with feeling their pain.

-never being able to finish things without starting something else. All the WIPs in my google docs, istg, i will be driven insane by it.

(y’know, this was kinda fun. As a rant, but also as a way for me to identify things about myself and my adhd that i like. Like, I know its so much shorter, but I have a hard time with positive self affirmation, so it was kinda nice. I might do it again, but just the pros part cuz the cons are kinda depressing ngl.)

(OH, Y’all should reblog with your own personal pros added on! You can add cons if you’d like to :) I’m just interested in seeing how your experiences/feeling differ from mine :) )

#adhd #adhd life #executive dysfunction #positive affimation #but it's only the begining ig #i might delete positive affirmations #idk #pros and cons #pros and cons of my adhd #nuerodivergent #nuerodivergent friends are the best #i will elaborate at some point #I've been on tumblr too long

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

Note

I need to know what u think of an AU where JC is the one who dies (sacrificing his life to save WWX) instead of JYL, he’s not as angry with WWX bc JYL is still alive so when he sees his brother about to get murdered he just steps in front of him while JYL and WWX see :) I don’t even know what I want u to do with this? Give me some headcanons? Is it a prompt? Idk I just want u to to see what u make of this (I promise JC is my fav but my mind likes to make me suffer :p)

It wasn’t a matter of conscious thought when Jiang Cheng threw himself between that cultivator’s sword and Wei Wuxian’s unguarded back, all his defenses down in the face of Jiang Yanli’s pleading, same as always; it was just instinct. Wei Wuxian was always the troublemaker, the crazy one, and Jiang Cheng always the one being dragged along; he’d long ago learned to spend all his time watching his shixiong’s back, keeping him away from dogs, away from angry shopkeepers, away from any harm. It was instinct, just as it had been the day he’d thrown himself out into the street to distract the Wens, and he’d always justified that instinct because he knew that Wei Wuxian would do the same for him.

Though – he didn’t know that anymore, not after everything that happened recently. Wei Wuxian had made him all the promises in the world, to stand by his side through wind and lightning, and he’d seemed to have no issue abandoning those promises, picking the remnants of the Wen sect over the remnants of the Jiang sect without a moment’s hesitation and not even the courtesy of an explanation.

The Yiling Patriarch was all but a stranger to him, and Jiang Cheng still didn’t understand why.

So it was probably stupid of him to react as if the person being stabbed at was Wei Wuxian, not the Yiling Patriarch – stupid of him to give up his life for someone who didn’t care about him nearly as much as Jiang Cheng cared for him.

But that’s why it wasn’t a thought. It was instinct.

He heard someone scream “Jiang Cheng!” as if their heart were breaking, and he thought for a moment that it was Wei Wuxian again, the one who loved him best. Wei Wuxian, not the Yiling Patriarch, who threw him to the dogs over and over again, put his sect at risk of utter destruction a second time over, just to indulge himself and his bizarre fixation on saving the Wens at the expense of everyone else. Who didn’t care about their duty to their sect, to their parents - who didn’t care about him at all.

Jiang Cheng’s heart hurt. It was probably just the sword that’d just been driven through it, though.

Hands grasped at his clothing, pulling him back; his sister’s face had lost all blood, and Wei Wuxian looked as if his world had ended – he wasn’t sure why. Jiang Yanli had her son to care for, a new life in Lanling that she refused to abandon even if Jin Zixuan was now gone; Wei Wuxian had his Wens, his new cultivation – perhaps it was some little regret, far too late, for the Jiang sect that would now come to grief, leaderless, the end of their family line and the disappointment of their ancestors. Jiang Cheng’s final and most absolute failure.

Jiang Cheng looked at them both, the ones he loved the most and who had left him without a single glance backwards, and found with his last breath that he had nothing to say to them.

He closed his eyes so they wouldn’t have to.

The battlefield was full of corpses, and Jiang Yanli didn’t care about a single one of them.

“Do you think he can be brought back, the way Wen Ning was?” she asked, holding the corpse in her arms as if it were still the baby brother she sang songs to as a child, the little crybaby who was so fierce on the outside and so soft on the inside. She had been able to lie to herself with Jin Zixuan’s body – he almost looked as though he were sleeping, head on the pillow beside her own – but Jiang Cheng had never slept well in his life, his brow always furrowed as if he was worrying about something even in his dreams, and the blank peace on his face was so wrong that she couldn’t bear to look at him.

She wasn’t asking Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian had only stopped the massacre when Lan Wangji, of all unlikely people, had bodily tackled him; everyone had always said that the Second Jade was like oil and water with her A-Xian, but he’d unexpectedly taken their side in this battle and was even now letting a barely-conscious Wei Wuxian sob Jiang Cheng’s name into his collar. He looked silently at her, his gaze a quiet reminder that her question was inappropriate – one Ghost General had already been enough to cause all of this tragedy, and certainly no one would ever accept another as a sect leader.

She looked steadily back at him, indicating in return that she didn’t give a damn about the standing of the Jiang sect if it meant she wouldn’t have to bury her baby brother.

Lan Wangji hesitated, looking down at Wei Wuxian. “You cannot stay at Yiling,” he finally said. “After this…”

They’d killed people from virtually every sect; no matter who had sympathized with Wei Wuxian before this or how much they felt he was wronged, they would have no choice but to raise up arms against him.

Jiang Yanli understood. They would be fugitives, condemned by all. She didn’t care. “Will you help us?”

He nodded and stood, Wei Wuxian cradled as gently in his arms as she held Jiang Cheng in hers.

“Will you come with us?” she asked. Anyone who loved her brother enough to defy his sect, to stain his untainted blade with the blood of his own kin, deserved a chance to court him properly, if she hadn’t misunderstood his intentions; she didn’t think she had, not with the expression so clear on his silent face.

“I will help you,” he said, and that wasn’t an answer, wasn’t the one she wanted, but it would have to do for now. “Let us go.”

It was Jin Zixuan who figured it out, oddly enough. Perhaps it was because he was an outsider, looking at the situation without affection to blur his eyes.

“You gave him your golden core,” he said, less than a week into his resurrection – Lan Wangji had been very efficient in his help, not only finding a new place to hide Jiang Yanli and the remaining Wens but also returning to Lanling to steal Jin Zixuan’s corpse and little Jin Ling before returning to his own sect at the first sign that Wei Wuxian would awaken from his coma. He hadn’t sent word since that time, whether from regret or other reasons; their only consolation was that there was no news of his death. “That’s why you couldn’t do anything other than demonic cultivation – is that right?”

Wei Wuxian looked at him through blood-red eyes. “Get lost,” he said; the phrase made up the majority of his vocabulary, these days, and because he refused to curse his shijie he mostly ended up not talking to her at all.

“Wen Qing was a famous doctor – she could have figured out a way to do it, and that would explain why you felt so indebted to them,” Jin Zixuan continued. “You never told him because you didn’t want to burden him. But instead you left him without any reason, any explanation: he must have felt that you abandoned him because you didn’t want him.”

“Get lost!”

“You broke his heart,” he said, and looked down at Jiang Cheng’s body – still perfectly preserved, but unmoving. The resurrection spell had already failed three times. “No wonder he doesn’t want to return.”

“I did it for him!” Wei Wuxian screamed, tears of blood dripping down his cheeks. “He didn’t – he wouldn’t – he has to come back!”

Jin Zixuan said nothing.

They ended up back in Yunmeng, rather unexpectedly; the new leadership of the Lotus Pier, a distant branch cousin who’d survived the massacre because he’d been night-hunting elsewhere, had all but begged Jiang Yanli to return. Against all odds her reputation had survived the massacre at the Nightless City; the loving wife, sister, and shijie that nearly sacrificed herself to save what lives she could and to banish the dreadful Yiling Patriarch who was never seen again from that day forth – she was very nearly regarded as an incarnation of the goddess of mercy.

She had no idea where that ridiculous notion came from, but it did mean that she could live in Lotus Pier again, with Jin Ling by her side – she’d told Jin Guangshan to name someone else as his heir, or at minimum as regent; the Jiang sect needed her and her son more. It wouldn’t have worked if Jin Zixuan hadn’t snuck into his mother’s room to convince Madam Jin to throw her support behind it; officially he was still in his tomb, since Lan Wangji had been very subtle, but in fact he lived within shouting distance of the Lotus Pier, spending his days playing with his son.

They all did, actually, the whole lot of them resettled into a tiny adjacent water town populated largely by civilians that relied on the Jiang sect for their prosperity. As long as Wei Wuxian never did anything, which he didn’t, the illusion that he was gone for good in a cloud of self-destruction after his terrible massacre could be maintained; no one expected they could possibly be so daring as to simply go home after all of it.

Lan Wangji was in seclusion, they were eventually told; Wei Wuxian hadn’t believed it for one second, smuggling himself into Gusu to check – he’d come back unconscious, slung over Jin Zixuan’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Struck by the discipline whip,” her husband, the fierce corpse that wasn’t fierce at all, said, and didn’t comment when she instinctively reached out to touch Jiang Cheng’s body, to trace the scar he had; she often spent her days next to the bed that preserved his corpse. “Many times; his body is ruined. It will take years for him to heal – the Lan sect saying he was in seclusion was their way of saving face. Wei Wuxian wants to bring him back to the Lotus Pier to hide him.”

Jiang Yanli rubbed her face, thinking not for the first time that the world would be an easier place if only her two brothers weren’t so stubborn. One who wouldn’t wake up, his spiritual consciousness all in pieces; the other who wouldn’t give up – “The Lan sect wouldn’t accept that.”

“He wasn’t planning on asking. That’s why I knocked him out. Anyway, they’re distracted with the Xue Yang matter now – my father’s still insisting on protecting him, and the Nie sect gets angrier about it by the day; without the Jiang sect, there’s only the Lan to play peacemaker, stop there from being another war.”

Jiang Yanli, who was very nice but also very much not the goddess of mercy, tilted her head to the side; something of her mother was in her eyes. “A war would be a good cover, though, or at least the rumblings of one. If we were going to steal Lan Wangji away from his sect, that is.”

He kissed her forehead. “I’ll sneak into Lanling to talk to my mother, maybe see if I can follow Xue Yang and see what he’s up to. You go talk to the Nie.”

Jiang Yanli’s visit to the Unclean Realm turned out to be more fruitful than anyone had expected. The moment she walked into Nie Mingjue’s receiving room, her Jiang sect bell rang so hard that it shattered, which it definitely hadn’t done during the war – they both stared at it wordlessly for a while.

Eventually, he cleared his throat, averting his eyes. “You know my family history,” he offered as an explanation, embarrassment at the public revelation of his problem already turning to anger but suppressed by his strict adherence to etiquette.

“That’s no family history,” she said, bemused, as she crouched down to poke at the pieces. “The silver bell of the Jiang sect can steady focus and calm the mind, and the ones made for the family are the strongest by far; it would only shatter like this in the effort to resist a spiritual poison…how are you feeling now, Sect Leader Nie?”

He considered for a long moment, and his face grew black with rage. “Better. I feel – like my mind has been filled with fog, and a clear breeze has blown it clear.”

She smiled up at him. “Perhaps you should visit Yunmeng.”

He scowled, and she realized he must know about Wei Wuxian’s presence, though she wasn’t sure how; despite that, in the end, after a roaring argument with Nie Huaisang in another room, he agreed to go, even if the idea of staying willfully blind clearly pained him to the core.

Jiang Yanli quietly approved of his decision to put family over principle.

When they put their mind to it, the Nie sect had an underrated talent for saying ‘I don’t know’ to just about everything. Neither brother blinked an eye at the Wen sect remnants that still teetered every time they went on a boat, very clearly not Yunmeng locals; they politely greeted Jin Zixuan as if he’d only been gone a while and not murdered; much to his older brother’s very evident irritation, Nie Huaisang even leapt over to give Wei Wuxian an enthusiastic hug while Nie Mingjue was still talking with Jin Zixuan about what it meant that Jin Guangshan had hidden away the still intact Wen Ning, who Jin Zixuan had found in a hidden part of Koi Tower during his most recent visit and immediately liberated.

“Definitely a case of spiritual poisoning,” Wei Wuxian said after a short examination, and the most reliable doctor they had left in the Jiang sect concurred. “The silver bell can help a little –”

They’d already shattered seven of them, but Nie Mingjue had actually cracked a smile for the first time in months, to hear a sobbingly relieved Nie Huaisang tell it.

“–but it can only help so much; that technique is really only meant for acute cases. And you really need to figure out what was doing the poisoning; there’s no point in curing you if you’re only going to get poisoned again.”

“A matter for a later time,” Nie Mingjue, who clearly had some suspicions that made him look as though he’d been stabbed in the back, said. “Now that we know it’s a poisoning, and my mind is clearer, I can take some action myself – the Nie have plenty of techniques to stabilize the spirit.”

Wei Wuxian’s smile was full of self-hatred, as it always was these days. “I don’t suppose any of those are designed to work on the dead.”

“Actually,” Nie Huaisang said. “Several are. Why do you ask?”

Jiang Cheng opened his eyes.

#mdzs #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #jiang yanli #lan wangji #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #jin zixuan #my fic #my fics #congrats!#you get a full ficlet #this one just wouldn't stop writing

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chaolie · 3 years

Text

Fundywastaken week, Day 3 - Wedding

So, another day of @fundyfiles' fwt week! The actual wedding video cannot hurt you if you simply don't acknowledge it, so that's exactly what I'm doing today! Instead, have this bit of comfort and a GREAT wedding! It's on my Ao3, too!

Characters: Fundy, Dream, other(s)

Words: ~1.9 k

Fundy watched the small building slowly fill with people, and didn’t dare to come any closer. No, not yet. He tried to fix his tie, for the 8th time in the past five minutes, and did his best to steady his breath. Logically speaking, there was nothing to be anxious about, everything should go fine… still, he found himself fumbling his hands together and could feel his ears flat on his head as he avoided looking at the building. Too many people for his liking were there already. Not that having a lot of guests was a bad thing, of course! It was his and Dream’s wedding, it was going to be loud and beautiful, they wanted it that way! And he’d go in there, and he’d smile, and he’d greet the guests, and he would not panic the second he does so- With all his thoughts running wild, he didn’t quite hear anyone approaching until they stood at his side.

“Fundy?” Dream asked, leaning forward to see his husband-to-be’s expression better. The fox hybrid let out a quiet sigh before smiling.

“Hey,” he greeted. His hands reached up to fix his tie yet again as he took a better look at Dream. The man was still in his casual clothes, and Fundy wondered if he should go change back into his as well.

“Oh, if you’re worried about this,” the man started, tugging at his hoodie, “I’ll change into the right clothes in a moment. I just wanted to… you know, stay like this for a moment?”

“Oh! Alright,” Fundy nodded. He was yet to see what clothes his fiance picked, and he couldn’t wait for that.

“...Are you nervous?” Dream asked after a short pause. Fundy’s expression fell at that, and he let out a tired sigh.

“...It shows that much?” he asked quietly. Given the fact that he was fixing his tie again, he wouldn’t be surprised. “Are you?”

“Uh… Well… Maybe a bit, but….” Dream answered, taken off-guard. He failed to find an excuse, so he fell silent after that. After hesitating for a second, Fundy carefully reached for the man’s hand.

“Do you want to go for a walk before we go in there?” he offered. When Dream looked up, he was met with a soft, caring smile. He nodded.

“Good idea,” he muttered, and Fundy carefully led him away from the building and all the guests.

Hand in hand, they walked further and further away. Almost immediately, the air got lighter and Fundy’s tie seemed to be at a perfect angle. They took a couple of steps into the nearby forest to hide in the shade of the trees, but didn’t go too far. They didn’t want to stain Fundy’s suit after all, did they? Instead, they found a fallen tree nearby and decided to use it as a bench.

Still holding hands, they allowed themselves to enjoy the surroundings. The forest was cool and quiet, save for the rustling of the leaves and an occasional bird chirping as it flew by. It was also beautifully green, hundreds of shades mixing together to create one indescribable masterpiece. The tall grass, the trees, the moss, the bushes… all those things working together better than anyone could expect. And the few fallen trees, stones, and patches overgrown by beautiful flowers just made it more special. Made it feel familiar.

“Hm… Did we ever come here before?” Dream hummed in wonder. Fundy turned to look at him.

“You feel like that too?” he asked. Now that the man mentioned it, it really did appear familiar.

“Yeah!” Dream confirmed, looking around. Searching his mind for any answers, Fundy carefully stood up and backed away from the tree. Maybe if he looked at everything from a different angle…

“Wait!” he gasped, his face lighting up with recognition. Curiously, Dream looked at him and pushed himself to his feet to join him.

“What did you see?” he asked, but before he could reach Fundy’s side, the fox hybrid walked closer to the roots of the tree they previously sat on.

“There’s no way…” he hummed, looking the trunk over. Then, his eyes widened and he motioned for Dream to come. “You have to see this!” he marveled, looking between the man and the wood.

“Alright, alright,” he laughed before joining Fundy. The fox hybrid pointed at something and he briefly gazed at it before stopping.

They were both looking at their own initials, carved into the wood. Both the letters and the heart around them looked sloppy and rushed. The carving was very close to the bottom of the tree, so low that it could be hidden by putting a small stone against it, or replanting some taller grass next to it. They both recognized the image almost immediately… this tree was still standing the last time they were here.

“...No way,” Dream muttered finally, carefully brushing his fingers against the cut wood. Fundy giggled quietly before doing the same. The shape was still so familiar at the touch...

“Do you remember this?” Fundy asked finally, a grin wide on his face. His husband-to-be nodded swiftly.

“Yeah- Yeah, of course!” he confirmed, still looking at the carving.

“...We made it when… the war was still happening, didn’t we?” Fundy remembered, this was almost as old as their relationship… Dream nodded to confirm.

“Yeah. And you were so worried someone would find it,” he sighed. While Fundy was the one to make it, he was also the one to be most nervous about leaving it for someone to see. They were so close to scratching it over that day…

“Oh, yeah!” the fox hybrid nodded with a quiet laugh. “And didn’t we use this stone to cover it?” he pointed out, reaching for a strangely shaped stone laying near.

“I- I think so!” Dream confirmed, his hand still resting against the carving. “Man, this must’ve been here for ages…”

“Mhm,” Fundy nodded. Then, his expression softened as he reached for Dream’s free hand. “You know what this makes me think?” he hummed, getting the man’s attention.

“What?”

“I think… I think today is going to be okay,” he announced with a smile. “Because, I mean, look! We’ve been together for so long, and- and we’ve been through an entire war and all, and- Even if this wedding goes bad, it’s still… it’s still our day, you know? We waited so long for this,” he explained. For a moment, Dream stayed silent.

“...You’re right,” he nodded finally before pulling Fundy into a hug. “It’s our day, and it’s going to be amazing no matter what,” he agreed. They stayed in each other’s embrace for quite a while, but eventually, the fox hybrid pulled away.

“...Come on, we shouldn’t keep the guests waiting for too long,” he pointed out. Dream gasped and immediately got to his feet.

“Oh- Oh no, I still have to change-” he realized, looking down at his clothes. Fundy quickly got up as well.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep them busy,” he assured, winking at the man. That earned him a wheeze of laughter.

“Thank you,” Dream said eventually. After that, they both headed towards the building they were supposed to get wed in.

They had to separate, Dream running off to put on the clothes he prepared, and Fundy quietly slipping into the chapel. He managed to reach the altar without anyone really noticing him, and decided to pretend that he was always there. The only one to truly notice him showing up was Eret, who was meant to officiate the wedding. After a moment, they approached him, and he was so ready for them to ask Where He Was For The Past Who-Knows-How-Long.

“Are you alright?” he asked instead. Fundy did not expect that, but it wasn’t a bad surprise.

“Yeah, just went for a walk,” he confirmed, looking down to make sure no dirt stained his clothes.

“I see,” Eret nodded, looking back at the sea of people in the building.

“Oh, and Dream should get here any moment now, we can start soon.”

No more than 5 minutes later, the chatter inside the building was dying out and people were returning to their seats. For the first time, Fundy got to gaze over the crowd and truly acknowledge everything. Everyone, every single person they invited was there, there wasn’t even a single empty spot, and it was… beautiful. Delightful. And after he looked back at the time when he and Dream had to hide just minutes earlier, seeing all those people there was truly charming. They were all former enemies, and they still had some disputes, but they managed to ignore all of that just for the sake of the wedding. He watched the people from different sides of the war sit by each other and casually chat, he could see them all bonding with each other… He could see his own father watching him with an approving smile, on top of all that-

And just when he thought it couldn’t get better, that nothing could top the sight of the room, the door opened and in walked Dream. His fiance. It took all of Fundy’s strength to keep himself on his legs, because the love of his life looked near devine. He usually did, of course, but now that he walked down the aisle in the wedding dress, a beautiful, white dress with green accents and accessories, his mask lifted just enough to reveal a sheepish smile… Fundy must’ve been the happiest and luckiest man on Earth.

His incredible, perfect husband-to-be joined his side and reached for the fox hybrid’s hands. Fundy would be scared to touch him, scared to ruin his clothes, scared that his hands would not fit in Dream’s, scared that the man would disappear at touch… But he still reached forward. After all the time they spent together, he knew it well - Dream loved him just as much as he loved Dream, and even if his ‘paws’ were to burn at the touch, his fiance would surely find a way to hold them every day. Because together, they were happy, and together, they were whole.

“You look lovely,” he whispered as Eret started her speech. Dream’s face lit up at that.

“So do you,” he whispered back, and got to see Fundy break into a grin.

At that point, everything else could’ve gone to hell and they couldn’t care less. Because even getting to hold hands, gaze at each other, and say the almost-magical ‘I do’ was more they ever thought they’d do. Still, the wedding went on, they exchanged rings and they fit perfectly, they shared a kiss and the world seemed to slow down for them, they hugged and the guests cheered… Could that day be more perfect?

Apparently so, because then came the time to celebrate. Almost every guest approached them to congratulate them, some even handing them gifts they prepared… but even having those people there was more than enough. Having their acceptance. Having their approval. Having Wilbur shake Dream’s hand, hug Fundy, and tell them he was proud of them. Having Dream’s friends pat the man on the back and smile at Fundy, inviting the two to hang out and truly celebrate in a day or two…

Was there anything more they could’ve wished for? This was a truly beautiful wedding.

#fwtweek2021 #fundywastaken #fundy #dream #c!fundy #c!dream #my writing #fwt #mcyt #dream smp #Writing this made me soft because it's just. wow. yeah. emotion. they're a thing.

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doorsclosingslowly · 3 years

Text

From Each According to Their Ability, To Each According to Their Need

A good relationship is just teamwork: everyone has their strengths and some things they can’t or won’t do, and the trick is fitting everything together. Jesper has the charm, the shamelessness, the beauty, and the reckless disregard for his heart and self-preservation, so he’ll be the crumple zone in-between Inej’s morals and Kaz’ cold reticence. He’ll get them through this fight. He’ll make this relationship work.

10k | Jesper/Kaz/Inej | Sun Summoner Jesper AU | content note: explicit sex

Jesper has a good reason for why he’s been sitting inside Kaz’ office while Kaz does paperwork and Inej sharpens her knives. A great, important reason. He’s not a masochist for boring himself to death. Okay, so he’s also miserably bored and jittery and it’s been an hour and he’s already tired of un- and reloading his guns over and over so the motions become as fast as possible. The minutes are crawling like ants under his skin. If he was anywhere else, he’d have left in search for a card table a long time ago, but those busy eyes will focus on his back the second he gets up, and they’ll know exactly where he’s headed, and—maybe he doesn’t want to give them another reason to talk about him when he can’t defend himself. It isn’t spite that keeps him rooted down here, but… close enough.

So if putting his cards to their intended use is out, why not… On the first try, though, the stack of cards that was supposed to take the loose shape of the Crow Club collapses when he’s at the third layer. Fucking ants. Kaz doesn’t even look up from his paperwork, only grits his teeth and viciously swipes away the three of hearts that landed right on the last word he’s written. The word’s smudged, and the card’s back has an ink blot on it. Marked. Ruined.

Before Kaz can get in the customary insult about his lack of work ethic, Jesper huffs, “I’m finetuning my dexterity.” Kaz doesn’t even bother with the easy follow-up insult (“If that’s supposed to be dexterity, you’d better write your will before I send you on the next job. Except you can’t even bequeath anything but your ugly shirt. How long did it take you to lose the last kruge I paid you? Forget dexterity, practice winning a single card game sometime.” But why is Jesper doing all of Kaz’ work for him when he doesn’t even care enough to look up?!)

Either he’s genuinely too busy or still angry from whatever fight he had with Inej two days ago that they stopped the instant Jesper opened the door—and still taking it out on Jesper, who wasn’t even there—or he’s decided that scattering playing cards all over his table is still better than the next form of fidgeting Jesper might come up with. Either way, Kaz leaves him alone to try again. It only barely helps. There’s no thrill in playing with himself—at least this way, but even wanking’s no fun when the only two faces he wants to imagine above him right now are angry and keeping secrets.

No, they need to talk first. That’s why he’s here. Why he’s enduring this agony.

He’s waiting for the tension to burst. He just didn’t expect it to take hours. Kaz and Inej, though, are both some sort of hyper-patient freaks. Utterly devoid of mercy. Trust Jesper to fall for the strangest, worst, cruellest amazing people in all of Ketterdam. They’re not going to make the first move. And Jesper doesn’t want to, either.

It was going so well in the beginning. He had Kaz coming undone—coming, from his hand, in his arms, and passing out from how great the sex was, and then the next day him and Inej and Kaz had a conversation that went incredibly well, too. “Yesterday was so good and I think you liked being able to touch me when I’m glowing, so let’s do it again sometime? And I like Inej as well as you and she likes me too and she adores you, and you love her, so—let’s try this as the three of us?” or however it went in detail, Jesper was honestly too nervous at the time to really remember anything but the way Kaz frowned until his blotchy red cheeks betrayed him and he nodded and Inej said something moving and clever that Jesper wishes he could recall. They agreed, though, he’s sure of it. They agreed to give it a try.

So after that he’s been going up to Kaz’ bedroom in the night sometimes and practicing “unleashing the sun” as he now calls it (no not his dick), and complimenting Inej and kissing her hand like she’s a lady from a penny play, the way he’d usually do anyway but it’s more, now, since they’ve both agreed it can mean something different. It makes her laugh at him, anyway, careless and bright, which is what matters. Calling her darling and love and dearheart. Buying her snacks. And he’s made himself scarce occasionally when Kaz and Inej are together, but they probably didn’t notice neither his exit nor his presence in the first place, caught up in some silent conversation.

Anyway. It went great. Jesper spent weeks almost bursting with joy. He got sent out to intimidate a guy from the Liddies and terrified him into submission just on the strength of how widely he was grinning. He’s happy. Inej was happy. Even Kaz was vituperating failing Dregs with less hatred than usual, and it was all because they’re together now, together as more than a quasi-Barrel Boss and his favoured stooges, which honestly is a rush much bigger than gambling, bigger than alcohol, bigger than going supernova (Reverse order of fun there. Lighting up is the most intense thing Jesper’s ever felt, blotting out every other desire, the only time outside a gun battle when he can’t even remember what gambling feels like, but he does not like it).

And then, a two days ago, the fight. He interrupted something that wasn’t meant for him—that was about him, though, he’s sure, if the way Kaz’ dark eyes back then bored bloody holes into his chest were anything to go by—he saw them and they shut him out and later, Inej materialized in front of him and asked Jesper whether he was okay, for reasons he cannot understand. When he went back up to Kaz’ bedroom Kaz hissed at him to leave, because he ‘just wanted to sleep’. He looked tired, too, but not the exhaustion of work but emotional turmoil, loathing, dread, that Jesper could have helped him forget. Except he didn’t want Jesper to try. He didn’t want Jesper. He’s been avoiding Jesper like the Queen’s Lady, not even assigning him work, and he’s been even more grumpy than usual, too. Vicious, brutal, with everyone. Even Inej.

So now Jesper’s stubbornly sitting in a room with a man who suddenly hates him and a woman who won’t explain, enduring the torture of quiet parallel work until someone cracks, and maybe it won’t even be him.

If it’s not working out, it’s, well—not fine, Jesper’s going to be absolutely heartbroken, but he’s broken up before with people he might not have adored as much, and didn’t work for besides, people who weren’t the terrors of the Ketterdam underworld, but it was okay. He got over it. He’s not a child.

He’d just like to know it’s over before he makes an absolute fool of himself. No. Makes more of an absolute fool of himself. Thanks, imaginary insulting Kaz, but that one was pretty weak. Jesper’s even losing his Kaz imitation skills now, and it’s only been two days of complete disregard and freeze-out. What if he can’t solve this? What if it’s forever?

The cards scatter across Jesper’s corner of Kaz’s working table—one landing right next to Kaz’ pen, again—and they spread out all over the floor and, ignoring Kaz’ hateful glare and Inej’s concerned one, he quickly dives under the desk to pick them up. Kaz’ good leg is tensing rhythmically, as if he wants to tap it, wants to run—except Jesper’s wrong there, because Kaz never runs away—and his bad one looks miserably taut. Yet another thing the Sun Summoner could help him with, if Mr Dirtyhands Bastard of the Barrel Brekker, terror of Ketterdam, inspiration for the sexiest creep in all of dirt cheap fiction, gang leader in all but name, would deign to speak to him. It’s the only thing Jesper’s power is good for. No use, though. Jesper comes back up and sits down with a baleful sigh and expertly shuffles his cards. Shuffles them again. He could invent a few new tricks, but… he checks the pockets of the coat he’s slung over his chair, and he doesn’t have a marked deck in there. He’s stuck with the genuine article. He doesn’t usually play with marked cards after all: if Jesper’s in control of what’s going to happen, it’s not gambling anymore, just work.

It’s just, if Jesper messed it up again, he’d like the chance to make amends. Apologize. Work it out, maybe, if that’s on the cards, get screamed at, or find a place on a boat if it’s so irreparable Kaz just wants him gone. If it’s something in Kaz’ or Inej’s past, he can’t do anything, since Inej barely trusts him with the clean-picked bones of what was done to her at the Menagerie and Kaz doesn’t trust him at all, so. Fuck.

Whatever it is, Jesper didn’t notice because he’s an idiot. He was floating on what he thought was requited love, and the sudden safety of Kaz hiding his identity as the Sun Summoner, and how well they all fit together. Kaz, the miserable bastard, opening up slightly and allowing himself to feel good; Inej being safe and cherished and in control; and beside them, Jesper, laying the world and his heart at their feet. He thought.

But now everything’s fucked, and Kaz and Inej still haven’t cracked. They’re working as normal, if without any of the little exchanges that Jesper’s come to cherish. Still: he’s almost bursting out of his skin with the need to run, to gamble, to fight and maybe even lose, get worked over a little (if he’s lucky, at least Inej will worry about his bruises), and his paramours are both just at work. They’re both okay. It’s not fair. Jesper’s wanted for more money he’s ever seen in every country he can name because he’s the fucking Sun Summoner, but honestly? He’s normal compared to those two. How are they still sitting still? How is anything they do now up to their own exacting standards? Don’t they feel the tension? Can’t they feel Jesper’s agony?

Card houses are boring; shuffling is excruciating. Shooting cards in mid-air? But Kaz will definitely complain if the office smells like gun powder, let alone the potential damage to his precious stolen décor. He’ll complain, which means he’ll look at Jesper. Insult him. Eviscerate him. Order him to fuck off even, probably, and Jesper’s already got his gun out and ready but—it’s no use. It’s not what will scratch this bleeding itch. He can’t bear this anymore.

Someone has to throw themselves on this kindled bomb before it explodes, so it might as well be Jesper. He’s got the least dignity to lose.

He pulls on his most devil-may-care smile, and then he says, “You’re both breaking up with me, right?”

“Jes…” Inej looks up, shocked.

Kaz doesn’t say anything. His face hardens, and he looks back down at his paperwork. Not writing anything, though, so Jesper knows at least he’s paying attention. At least he’s vaguely interested.

“You can tell me. It’s fine.” I should have expected it, Jesper bites back. This is bad enough already. He doesn’t need to look more of a sad idiot than necessary, but they’re just staring up (Inej) and down (Kaz), giving him more time to think: more time to make mistakes, with cruelty so well-aimed it might almost be intentional, time to be to be impulsive, maudlin. I was pretty sure you’re in love with each other even before this started. Fuck, I was great playing third wheel before, and I’m pathetic enough I’ll cheerfully go back to it. I love you. I want you to be happy. The itching under Jesper’s skin is still there, and he needs a gamble, a fight, a—he needs to stop. He won’t hurt them. “Just tell me, please?”

“Jesper, no—”

“You’re both tense and angry, and you haven’t talked to me in two days.” He looks at Inej, who’s furrowing her brow, ready to argue, but— “You asked me how I was doing but you didn’t talk. Kaz won’t even look at me. You won’t even give me work, boss, and I know you don’t tolerate freeloaders. And you shied away when I tried to hug you, Inej. You didn’t do that before. I saw you arguing, and I know it was about me, and—I’m sorry. Whatever I did, I’m sorry. I’ll go, if you want.”

There. It’s out. He’s done his part. Fighting this would be more humiliating, and if there’s anything that gambling has taught him, it’s how to take a loss on the chin and keep on going. The itching under his skin’s receding, but he doesn’t feel any better. Just tired.

“No, Jesper. Why do you assume—” Earlier, Inej turned her whole body towards Jesper, arranged in a careful pose of openness that couldn’t disguise her nerves and that made Jesper feel more exposed but less alone, at least, but now her body turns as her eyes flicker over to Kaz. They stare at each other, another silent fight, and then he glares back down at his paperwork. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

This time, Kaz should say here, and doesn’t. Fuck, Jesper misses his mockery.

“We’re worried it’s not reciprocal,” Inej says.

“Not reciprocal? What do you mean? That’s ridic—” except Da used to tell Jesper he’s overwhelming in his enthusiasm, just like a whirlwind, when Jesper cried to him about some neighbour kid or other not coming shooting with him even though she’d agreed; that when he got into something it was hard to say no to him even if—fuck. Fuck. And now, Inej had to protect Kaz from—

“No, Jes, not that,” Inej cuts in quickly, shocked by his bare-faced horror. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it like that.”

“What do you mean, then?” Jesper can’t keep himself from glowering, still bruised from the implication.

“You pleasure Kaz and then you leave. You don’t have to do that. You’re not a servant. Not a sla—” She bites off her words, but Inej’s said enough. Jesper knows what she means.

“Something reminded you of the Menagerie, didn’t it?” he asks softly. In the corner of his eyes, he can see Kaz—flinch, as if Jesper had struck him, as if he’d touched him, and he doesn’t know what it means. What it means for them, for the relationship with Kaz that Jesper still wishes he could have. What it means, that Kaz acts as if Jesper can hurt him.

He still doesn’t understand the fight, Kaz’ reaction, but he does know what Inej’s afraid of. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine. I really like it, actually.”

“Even so—” Inej looks dubious, and Jesper’s got to move ‘world-class actor’ way up to the front of his truly extensive list of skills, if he’s somehow managed to fool her into missing the torch he’s carried for Kaz for pretty much the entire time they’ve known each other—“you’re vulnerable, Jesper. No, Jes, listen to me—” because of course she’s anticipated his grimace— “you don’t have any control in this situation. The Dregs. The Sun Summoning. The kruge you owe. Kaz has far too much power over you.”

“Kaz is our boss. He’s ordering both of us around.”

“And there are things I won’t do for him. Can you say the same? What if you want to stop one day? Could you?”

“I’ll burn that bridge when I get to it.” Jesper chances a look over at Kaz. He’s blank, not even angry, completely still except for the muscle jumping in his jaw. But he’s watching Jesper. Finally, finally, he’s meeting Jesper’s eyes.

“Jesper—”

“Look at me,” Jesper says, and since they’re already watching him more intently than any fat-walleted Pigeon already, he stretches his arms over his head—gratifyingly, despite the tension, both Kaz’ and Inej’s eyes trace the strong lines of his jaw and neck. He pulls his shoulders back when he drops his arms so the open collar of his lush pale green shirt reveals as much of his chest as possible. “Look at me again. I’m the most handsome guy in Ketterdam. The funniest. The best lay. I slept with plenty of people before I started this thing with you, and I could pick anyone if it ends. There were cries of despair all over the Barrel when they realized I was off the market.”

“Stop blowing smoke up your own ass and get to the point.” Kaz, as intended, looks disgusted at Jesper’s ego, but no longer miserably vicious. Viciously miserable. And he’s talking. Inej loses a little of her worry to involuntary amusement, too.

“The point is: I’m here instead. So clearly, I want to be here. I want this, I want you—” Inej wears a tiny smile— “and if you keep questioning me, what you’re really impugning is my incredible beauty and sexual magnetism and superb taste, and honestly, that’s offensive.” Even Kaz snorts, so score… let’s say, five, for Jesper. “Also, really, you should have stalked me back to my bedroom after. The images I get are more than enough for some quality time with my hand.”

(Kaz, flushed and stunned and staring straight into Jesper’s eyes.)

(Inej’s lips on his cheek and on his neck.)

“I’m good. Don’t worry about me. I’ll follow you whenever, whyever, wherever. That’s my job, right?”

“That’s the problem, Jes.” Inej’s rolling her eyes, but she looks much less apprehensive now. Just fond.

“We both know you couldn’t… well, obviously you could make me do something I don’t want to, you do it all the time. I don’t like bouncer duty, especially if no fight breaks out. I don’t like watching card games when I’m not allowed to play. I don’t like sniping in the middle of the night. You think I lucked into a face like this without guarding my beauty sleep? But that’s it, right? I’d be complaining the whole time. I’m not complaining here. I’m an enthusiastic participant.”

“You will kill Mark Heener, even if you have to stay up all night for a month. That’s an order,“ Kaz rasps, and really? That’s what he got out of Jesper (almost) baring his heart?

“I feel safe with you.” He looks at Inej, who’s actually fucking interested. Inej, who’s starting to look less afraid now, and because he’s always going to feed his own heart to hungry dogs to make her happy, he adds, “I like you. Both. That should be obvious.”

Inej glows. Jesper keeps his eyes trained on her, because he really doesn’t need Kaz’ derision, he doesn’t, even though he’s curious—oh yeah, he’s already looked. And Kaz doesn’t look happy exactly at Jesper’s dangerously-close-to-a-confession, but there’s none of the contempt or revulsion that Jesper forced himself not to be afraid of that made him keep his feelings quiet, more—fear. Confusion. As if the problem isn’t that Jesper hopes that Kaz loves him back. But that Jesper loves him.

“Oh, seriously, Kaz, I was never subtle about finding you attractive.”

“There is a vast difference between lust and… this. I can’t give you what you want. I will never touch you. I’m the Bastard of the Barrel. Dirtyhands.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. “I’ve never actually cared—”

“I know three channels by which to contact the Little Palace,” Kaz hisses. “Five ways to lure you there without you catching on, and at least fifteen to subdue you should you resist. All your fears. Your secrets. Your addictions and abject weaknesses. Should I ever need the money—”

“And yet, I’m still here,” Jesper cuts in, before Kaz can say something that really hurts. “You saved my life more times than I can count. Three million kruge wasn’t enough for you to sell me out. And two weeks ago, you bullied me into promising I’ll only gamble at Dregs establishments because—”

“I’m tired of paying you wages only to watch everything disappear into the Dime Lions’ coffers. You’re the pigeonest pigeon in all of Ketterdam, and I want those fat stacks of money you lose every night to go to me exclusively.”

Jesper grins at him. It won’t help his case much to continue the argument about how only gambling in Dregs’ houses means Kaz can cut Jesper off, or make sure he won’t get beat up by those he owes money to, or that Kaz actually explained his contingency plans for when Jesper’s revealed as the Sun Summoner to Jesper, in person, only a few weeks ago. Kaz knows what Jesper suspects, and Jesper knows that Kaz knows he does, and Kaz knows what Jesper thinks about the fact that Kaz knows Jesper suspects he secretly does like him, and so fucking on and so fucking forth, and Inej does too, probably, even though she doesn’t enjoy the dance, the paper chase for affection, even half as much as Jesper does. Anyway.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me, Kaz,” Jesper purrs. The way you look at me when I’m touching your dick, like you want to burn my face you’re your brain. “You’re not as good a liar as you think. You want me too. You both want me. I can’t blame you, I’m gorgeous.”

“I can’t give you what you want. I will never touch you, Jesper. Never.”

He’s so focused on that, as if Jesper hadn’t told him—three times, probably, already that those words won’t hurt him, won’t scare him off. “That’s a fairy tale view of sex,” Jesper says. “The idea that there’s one true way of sleeping with people. That everything must be symmetrical—that within the confines of anatomical possibilities, everyone has to act out their role or it’s not true love, and that it’s penetrative, and naked, and kissing, and with the lights on. Out. I don’t really care.”

Kaz bristles, though Jesper hopes it’s more because he called an aspect of Kaz’ worldview fairy tale than because Kaz actually believes some of that horseshit. He can’t quite read Inej. Impressed, worried, sorry? He ploughs on..

“I’ve never planned a decent heist before. I can’t disappear into thin air like a fucking ghost. Not that good with knives, but neither of you can actually handle a gun—not that well, boss, or you wouldn’t send me out to play sniper. I can’t look at a bleeding wound, but you can. Et fucking cetera. We do different things, and that’s what makes us a lethal team. Sex is just another heist.”

“An interesting philosophy,” Kaz rasps. “Simplified to the point of complete incoherence.”

Fuck him. Jesper’s put thought into this, okay? “There are far more ways to have sex that don’t involve touch. That don’t involve the guy sticking his dick somewhere and rutting until he gets off. It’s only fun when you’re doing it with your partners, not acting to a script.” Jesper smiles at Inej, Kaz, Inej again, open and friendly. Trying not to let his heart betray how desperate he is for them to believe them, for this to work. “You have to trust me, though. Trust me when I say that something gets me going. Trust me when I say I’ll stop you if I don’t like it. You don’t have to understand, it doesn’t have to be something that arouses you, but if I say I like it, I do. And if you don’t like it, if it brings back memories you don’t want or you just don’t want to do it, we’ll stop, of course, but that’s for you. Don’t make my choices for me.”

“I hope this plan of yours is better than the last one you came up with,” Kaz rasps.

“We’ll just have to see, won’t we?” Jesper grins widely. Gently. He’s so close now to everything he’s ever dreamed of. “I promise I’ll stop this when I’m unhappy, if you promise the same thing.” Then he offers his hand for Kaz to shake, and Kaz actually takes it. “The deal is the deal.”

He repeats the ritual with Inej, and then watches her and Kaz shake, even though she’s not Kerch enough to put much trust into the oath and also too clever to really need it. This is for Kaz, though: so he can believe he’s not forcing anyone because they’ll veto, and for Inej to see that Kaz sees this as the terms of the deal. Watching the reflections of shadows, et cetera.

His guns, Jesper leaves on top of Kaz’ paperwork next to his scattered deck and his holster.

Then, he saunters into the pitch-black bedroom. It’s probably best the curtains stay closed. Jesper has negative amounts of control over his power at the best of times, and when he’s getting lucky—well it didn’t used to happen, but then, he didn’t used to sleep with Kaz Brekker and Inej Ghafa either. Kaz lights a candle before he closes the door, and that’s better, anyway. Whatever the situation may warrant—and there’s conflicting opinions, perhaps, because Kaz would laugh if he heard but—it looks romantic.

Jesper undresses slowly. One by one, he pushes the shirt buttons through their holes with deft, deliberate movements. It’s not nerves. He’s not shy about his body: he knows he’s gorgeous, has undressed for others often enough though he’s never had the chance to take his time like this, and even before he tried talking it out with Kaz and Inej today he knew they found him attractive. That, at least, was assured. His body is the one thing he’s always been sure of, and he isn’t baring himself now, not like he did earlier. There are no painful, invisible scars on his skin, not like those his lovers bear. The lines and holes on his belly are from battle or clumsiness. What you see is what you get. And what you see is…

He grips the right cuff of his gorgeous pale green ruffled shirt—worn especially for Kaz today, because Kaz hates it—and then he pulls his arm out before he swings the empty sleeve over his head, stretching, showing off the taut long line of his torso, and then he lets the shirt drop to the floor. He doesn’t look at either of them. He doesn’t need it. He’s not that insecure.

Besides, the utter silence in the room, apart from the ticking wall-clock, is answer enough. No rustling of minuscule movement, no words, no breath. Like awe. Like fear. And so—

“You know, this is usually when the applause starts.”

Two voices in unison. “Shut up, Jesper.”

And that’s what Jesper’s been missing. If he makes this fun, exasperating, ridiculous, then maybe he can steal the tension from their backs. He’ll convince them he likes it. Them. It’s lucky, then, that Jesper’s as exceedingly talented at being a jokesmith as he is as a gunslinger and a lover. They’d never get through this without him.

Jesper bends down to unbuckle his boots. He doesn’t bother with graceful this time, and then he says, “We should hire DeKappel.” A beat so Kaz can start formulating various schemes Jesper might be proposing, and then, “Jurda fields are nice and all, but if he’s trying to capture true beauty… Well, he’s not going to, not until he paints one of me undressing.”

“DeKappel is dead, Jesper,” Kaz rasps drily, and Jesper throws his boots into a random corner.

“I thought you were a criminal genius. You’ll find a way to hire him anyway, for this ass,” Jesper shoots back, and then he pulls his trousers and underwear down with a single, suave movement. Unfortunately, he’s trying too hard to be cool: never a good look, and so uncharacteristic for Jesper who usually does not put any effort to enhance his natural amazingness—he doesn’t need it, but he might be a little nervous—but anyway, he fails getting them off in one fell swoop and tangles up his legs somehow. He hops around the room, trying not to fall. It wasn’t even planned, and Inej’s laughing. Unburdened, bellydeep delight in his misfortune: music in Jesper’s ears. Kaz is scowling, either because of the chaos Jesper brought to his once-pristine bedroom, or because he’s trying not to join her. Definitely the second. Jesper’s lost count of how much he scored already in the private game of putting Kaz at ease.

Inej strips down to her quilted undershirt and her underpants efficiently. No flourish, no stumbling: the master showing how it’s done right, which Jesper tells her, and is rewarded with another huff of laughter.

Jesper preens. Stretches, showing off his half-hard dick, and realizes he’s still wearing his striped socks.

“Leave them,” Inej orders.

And who is Jesper to deny his lady her wishes?

Kaz is still standing by the door. Awkward gloved fingers picking at the collar of his shirt. His eyes meet Inej’s for some time while he loosens his tie, and then Jesper’s. Jesper quickly looks away, before Kaz can get angry at him for seeing something he shouldn’t. Still. “Should I…?”

“If you feel better wearing your clothes, keep them on,” Jesper tells him as confidently as he can with his heart beating against his throat. “Like I said, there are no rules. No implications. No meanings. Sit down on your chair, if you like. Pull it over here, so you can get a good view,” and without even a complaint, with gratifying haste, Kaz obeys. “You’ve never met a rule you didn’t break, creatively, viciously, for enormous profit. We’re thieves. Gangsters. And I like your suit, it makes you look hot.”

Kaz glowers at him, but his cheeks are red.

Jesper grins back. “Very sleek. Modern. I know you’re dressing as a mercher, but honestly, none of them come close to looking anything as good as you, so I’m sorry to say. Failure. You’re too handsome to be a mercher. Have you seen them?”

It’s fun, complimenting Kaz, and it’s even more fun having both of them stare at the way he marches over to the bed and languidly stretches out, lies down, cock bobbing slightly, their eyes tracing up and down his body, but… “Not that you’re not really stroking my ego right now—stroking it hard, wet, twist at the end, just how I like it,” Jesper does his best lustful leer, and nearly ends up laughing at himself because he’s trying (too hard? Not enough? Trying to sabotage it before it even starts?), “but you do know I’m not good at laying still? I’m going to fidget unless we do something.”

“If I minded your need for movement, I’d have gotten rid of you years ago,” Kaz rasps. “These are your rules. I thought you were all about breaking them. If you want to move, move.”

And Jesper hates to admit it, but once again, Kaz is right. “I guess that’s why you’re the boss, boss,” and blissfully, Jesper braces his feet against the footboard, arching his back, dangling the left foot over the edge and then changing his mind, tapping his heel against the wood in an offbeat rhythm.

Kaz is watching him, eyes gone even darker with arousal, and yeah—from his vantage point, he’s probably got a really decent view of Jesper’s ass right now.

“Inej—what do you want to do? Or if you haven’t decided yet. if you’re comfortable, on the bed with me, I just want to lay my head in your lap.”

And then, Inej’s suddenly next to him. Jesper still doesn’t know how she manages it. He was looking at her! Only glancing back over to Kaz to find out how he took the suggestion, and then the next instant Inej’s pushing Jesper up by his shoulders and sliding under him. Jesper lets his head plop down. “You’re such a weird fucking miracle, you know that?”

Inej, grinning, pets his face.

“Hey! I mean it. You’re the weirdest person in this room. The nicest, and you do know we’re all gangsters, so nice is weird. Not the most beautiful, though—I’m afraid that adjective was created just for me,” because if he doesn’t make a joke now he’ll only get sappier, and then Jesper starts lightly touching his own skin, running his hands over his nipples and his stomach and the burls and snarls of long-healed wounds. Inej’s generous hands touch his mouth, and from behind the foot of the bed Kaz’s heated stare completes the tableau. They mocked him for it, but this is safe. This is nearer than heaven. This— “I like this one.”

“You nearly bled out. And when that wasn’t enough, you burned up,” Kaz hisses.

“But I didn’t. Inej got me back to the Slat, and you refused to even look at me for the week I spent in bed until she found a healer. You were so angry. I thought you were going to kill me if the sepsis didn’t.” You were angry because I was showing off and it nearly got me killed, Jesper doesn’t say. Because you wanted me to live. That’s when I found out you care.

Kaz, though, looks far too uncomfortable, and Inej’s stopped petting Jesper. That’s what happens when he gets too distracted. Too comfortable with them. “You don’t have to say it,” he soothes. “I know why. But this is getting boring, so, tell me what you want me to do. What you’d like to do to me. This is a judgment free zone. Except for Kaz judging me, I think I’ve developed a fetish. At this point I don’t even know whether I could get off without a rasped insult or two.”

Kaz scowls at him.

“I could pretend to be deeply embarassed, if you like.”

Kaz scowls.

“I did actually mean it when I said, ‘tell me your fantasies’.”

Kaz keeps scowling. Then, after a while, while Inej slowly grows bolder exploring Jesper’s face, pushing her fingers into his mouth and asking him to suck, he whispers, “I would touch your face first, Inej. Pull you toward me and kiss you, and feel your breasts against my body. Slide down, lick it, while Jesper kisses my neck.”

He speaks clearly, without hesitation, but something keeps Jesper from sinking along into the fantasy. Kaz, naked, caressing Inej and licking her tits, while Jesper sucks bruises into his neck… something feels off, wrong, and Kaz is smiling confidently but then, he’s a great actor when the heist calls for it. He’s a great actor. He’s acting. Kaz, naked… This isn’t him, or if it is his genuine fantasy: this is him wishing he wasn’t himself.

He’s sharing his fantasies but—

“How about something a little more practical. Inventive. We don’t need to skip straight to touching. I have plenty of fantasies where you’re not touching anyone at all, or not touching me with anything but your gloves or your boots or your cane. A letter-opener. The Crow Club’s expense filings. I’m not picky.”

Torn between disbelief and—intrigue, Kaz looks intrigued, and that’s going to fuel so many nights now, that cane head trailing down Jesper’s naked chest, the idea that Kaz might actually want…

“You can use a lot of things to touch people. You do it all the time, Kaz. It’s not a power thing,” because he doesn’t want to worry Inej right now, and if the idea of Jesper stroking Kaz off reminded her of bad experience he might need to talk to her in private before he expands on this. If only the two of them actually trusted him and told him, out loud, what fucked them up and how Jesper can reconcile both of their issues. He’s running blind, though, and the only safe territory is jokes. “Not always, anyway, and not right now. Right now, object insertion’s called being practical.”

But Kaz has fixated on something else entirely. “Expense filings? How the fuck would I use paper to get you off?”

Jesper just threw it in there for fun, but actually, “Paper bends. You could wrap your dick in it, get a layer between yourself and my lips, and I bet it’ll feel at least as weird as getting touched by the sun. You could make an entire paper suit, too, it’s thinner and stiffer than cloth so it’ll distort the sensation of Inej’s hands. With a nice paper tie, too, and maybe a paper hat.” He’s really getting into this, now. Kaz, stripping down, and then slowly building up a new armour just so Inej and Jesper can touch him… “In solidarity, both Inej and me have donned paper suits as well. Inej doesn’t even rustle when she moves because she’s ridiculous, and mine has strategic cut-outs. Wouldn’t want to deprive you of all this beauty. It really makes a dent in Kaz’ paperwork, anyway—at least halves the amount of things he has to read tonight, so he has much more time to spend with us. Which is good, because it takes hours to construct all our suits.”

Kaz looks sincerely disturbed. Inej’s hiding her face in her hands. She groans in despair, and the sound goes straight to Jesper’s dick. At least one out of the three of them’s getting off on his hard creative work.

“Oh, come on! At least half of Kaz’ schemes are more convoluted and incomprehensible than this. And yet, they always work. I really think I deserve the benefit of the doubt here. I’d really like to wrap my lips around a roll of those dull reports you read while you’re ignoring me. Slick them up with my tongue. Bleed the ink. Lick all the way down to the signatures…”

“Don’t mock me.”

“I’m not, boss. But improvising a million plans with whatever’s available is your job, boss. I’m just thinking out loud.”

“Stick to your strengths, Jesper. Thinking clearly isn’t it.” A beat. Kaz looks both impatient and strangely, uncharacteristically unsure. “You don’t mind? Not that. Using gloves?”

That’s what spurs Jesper into honesty. Overcompensating with humour keeps him safe, but if one of them must be embarrassed here—well, it’s just wrong when it’s Kaz. He flushes. “The leather’s hot, Kaz. It’s what makes it special. They’re a part of you, and I wonder what it would feel like, those gloves on my body. The cane’s you, too. And I think about you, not some person you could have been. You, and if that’s feeling your gloves… I’ve imagined it.”

“So that’s what you like,” Kaz rasps. “Being fondled by a cripple.”

“Kaz—”

“The last person who said something far less insulting about my boss, I shot in the head,” Jesper snipes back. “You should know, I don’t tolerate anyone dismissing Kaz Brekker like that.”

Inej looks angry, but now that she can see Kaz’ quick incredulous flush, far less angry than she was back then. They’d both gone out for pastries, and in the queue a couple of patrons had been talking about the Dregs’ recent expansion into Liddies territory and the woman had made the unwise choice of talking about the Dregs’ de-facto leader in front of Jesper. Inej had tried to pull him home quickly after they bought their gemberbolussen but Jesper’d waited for the woman outside the shop, and—

Kaz, though, swallows what might have been pleasure. He probably doesn’t like being defended, or being seen to like being defended, or… Anyway, he hisses, “Are you ashamed of the monster I am? We should end this farce now, then. The idea that I might become anyone but Dirtyhands, just for you, is illusory.”

Inej hides her face in her hands. It’s impossible to tell whether it’s exasperation or an attempt to hide her laughter.

Jesper, at least, is hiding both. “Kaz, I just said I kill people for mocking you. I meant—well, most of what I said about using objects. I’m not claiming the moral high ground. And you know I don’t mind Dirtyhands—I even found Matz Drescher hot and he was way more of a dick than you. Sorry, he was a much smaller dick,” he says, when Kaz starts scowling. “I meant to say—he had a much smaller dick.”

Kaz still looks hilariously offended—or offended again for a new reason—and so does Inej, who’d complained to Jesper at length after Pim brought The Misfortunes of Virtue to the Slat’s eating room and then explained to her what it was about. Jesper couldn’t really understand then whether she disliked the impropriety of reading pornography in a common room or the blasphemy more, or how funny Pim found the Kaz caricature, but he didn’t care: he went out and bought it the same day.

“But Kaz. I don’t mind a single thing about who you are,” Jesper spells out, because Kaz is a genius, but if he’s still hung up on the idea that Jesper’s not totally in love with him, he’s also the stupidest man alive. “I’m game for whatever you need. Gloves, no contact, dickishness, whatever. What either of you need. I’ll be the crumple zone. I’m committed to figuring this thing out.”

Then, because Kaz is still just staring, surprise, want, grief and so much more flickering over his face: and Jesper hadn’t dropped out of university he’d probably be ready to write a monograph or two about his chosen field, Kaz-expression-ology, now… Because Jesper could watch him forever and it still wouldn’t tell him any more than he knows right now, he hides his face against Inej’s quilted undershirt.

And quickly emerges again, because Jesper doesn’t hide from his feelings. Often. More than once a minute, at least, but he’ll force himself to make this one of the occasions. Because if he doesn’t, if everything grinds to a halt here, they’ll realize what lies below what he just said, the abject love, and so he puts cheer in his voice and says, “But anyway. Back to business. We were in the process of having sex.”

Inej’s still watching Jesper far too keenly.

“How about I eat you out?” Jesper allows his eyes a quick dart to Kaz—who looks hungry, no problems there right now—before he stretches his head back as far as it’ll go, looking up at upside-down Inej now grinning down at him. “I think you might like it. I’m very, very good. What do you think, o invisible silent Wraith, robber of all Ketterdam’s secrets? Ready to find out why every nonnevot is so incredibly lucky to be devoured by me?” He raises his left hand with pointer and middle finger spread, and licks, slowly, all the way up from the v to the tips and down again, while giving his best, most intense smoulder to Inej. Inej, who’s giggling at him again.

“Stop, stop,” she begs, hiding her face in her hands.

“I thought you were supposed to be good at this,” Kaz rasps, sounding fond and just as amused as Jesper wants him.

“Sorry.” Jesper licks his lips and drops his voice even lower, a suave rumble he can’t hold for long until he’ll have to gasp for breath. “I forgot to mention. The Jesper Fahey Seduction Experience is limited to Crows who haven’t already agreed to go out with me. You get the leftovers.”

“Fair.” Inej shimmies out of her underpants as well and drops them off the side of the bed. She pats the blanket in-between her thighs when Jesper, stunned into silence, doesn’t react for a second. “As long as you only wildly exaggerated the skills of your tongue in terms of talking. Not… Come here, Jes.”

She laughs at him again when he crawls slowly closer like the caricature of a hunting cat and when he softly caresses her right leg, then pulls it up and deposits the thigh atop his shoulder.

He licks a slow stripe up along the outer seam of her cunt, then again, focusing on the trembling in her thighs and the laughter and the shy hand that settles in his hair, just trying to get a feel for it. Not the act itself, but Inej’s reactions. In his eagerness he’s chosen a tactically stupid beginning: he can’t monitor Inej’s minute expressions from down here with his face buried in her sex. If he could completely trust she’ll stop him when it gets too much, or, alternately, if he could trust this will never hurt her at all, he could lose himself, but so… She’s wet already, and that’s good. Jesper doesn’t know what Kaz is doing at all, either, except for the drag of the chair that may be him finding a better place to watch.

He pulls one arm up slowly—and maybe Jesper’s overthinking this, but these are the most important people in his life: he needs to protect them, and his mind won’t shut up—slowly, he reaches for her, I’m not restraining you don’t worry, and starts toying with Inej’s lips, not penetrating, while he laps at her clit. Gently, at first, while he learns the way she squirms—while he guesses what might mean too much pressure and no, here please and anything she’s not saying, because Inej’s far too quiet, and only her hands digging into his hair and pushing him down give him the certainty to not try and look at her face for clues.

Carefully, he puts his hand into service. One finger, then two, curling towards the front, massaging, matching the movement of his mouth, and again and again until Inej’s body curls all around him when she comes. Silent, of course.

Kaz is utterly silent as well. Maybe he’s not even there. Maybe he went back to work, and Jesper turns, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and— “So you are enjoying the show!”

His arms are hanging down straight and his hands are balled into fists, and Kaz is hunched forward, but still—those trousers are bulged a little more than usual. (It probably says things that Jesper’s got a yardstick for ‘usual’ here. But—)

“Why don’t you take care of this? For me… us?” Inej, asking gently somewhere above Jesper’s head.

“It’s easier when you do it.”

Jesper can’t help it. He snickers at the way Kaz glares-pleads at him, and apologizes, and tries hard not to crow with delight but— “Kaz Brekker, admitting I’m better than him?! Don’t be ashamed. You can’t excel at every single thing, and hand jobs happen to be one of my areas of expertise.”

“You’re scrubbing the floor in my office tomorrow, Jesper.”

“Is that what Inej meant with the dangerous power—“ Jesper bites his tongue. Just in time. Kaz looks pissed, but neither Kaz nor Inej have stormed out yet, though they might if he gives them time to process… “Give me a pillow, Inej.”

She pulls it out from under her back, somehow making that appear dignified, and Jesper throws it at Kaz’ face. Kaz, unfairly, catches it.

“We’re practicing a new trick today. It’s a shame, I’d love to watch that erection but it might not be enough to get you off. Hold it against your crotch and hump it. More friction.”

A beat. Kaz just sits there, clutching the pillow against his lap, and then— “You said after you finish getting me off, you touch yourself thinking about us. Show me.” His voice is even hoarser now. It’s unfair.

Jesper was so focused on him and Inej and making sure neither of them got hurt, all along, that he almost forgot he had a body. Now, though—now, with Inej still slick on his lips and Kaz’ rough voice and the knowledge he wants to watch Jesper—wants to watch Jesper jerking off, it all bleeds back with a vengeance. He’s close already. He’s so close. He squeezes the root of his dick tightly, staving off the end, thinking about wounds, open, bleeding, full of pus—squeezes, lies there, eyes closed, breathing, breathing, and listens to the soft rhythmic rustling of a pillow. Which doesn’t help.

“You’re in the right position,” Jesper whispers, when he dares softly trail his hand up and down his prick again. “Look at me. That’s how I imagine it, usually. I’m on my back in my room, and you’re both watching. With interest.”

Kaz laughs at him. It sounds more than a little breathless. “I should have known you get off on being the centre of attention, you egotistical asshole.”

Jesper doesn’t look across at him, or up at Inej. It would be over too soon. He can’t stop feeling the heat of Inej’s thighs underneath his head, though, and that… Kaz could mock him, for how incredibly turned on he is right now, for the certainty that if anyone was to touch Jesper’s too-sensitive skin now it would be over—but Kaz doesn’t know shit about sex. Point, Jesper. Instead, blindly, he starts needling, “You’re doing well, boss.”

“Fuck you.” Kaz can’t even muster his normal bloodlust. He sounds vaguely humiliated, and shouldn’t.

“No, you’re fucking you.”

Inej actually slaps Jesper’s head, and Kaz groans—and the smack and the sound travel down to Jesper’s dick, better than anything he could imagine, so he’s down a couple of points again, or up? It’s hard to tell now. It’s hard to tell, because his hand’s sped up without giving Jesper notice, and he can still smell Inej, all around his head, on his face, and Kaz is breathing audibly now, moaning, then not, because he’s biting either his glove or his cheek again Jesper thinks and honestly, either—and the pillow’s still thwacking, thwacking away and—thwack, a groan, a word that’s definitely not Jesper but still it’s—

And Jesper bites his own lip bloody when he comes because any word he might say can and will be used against him.

Inej starts petting his head.

Before Jesper even has his breath back, he can hear the quiet scratch of Kaz’ chair: can hear the cane and the limp, coming closer to the bed, a drawer pulled open and then shut again. Movement towards another corner.

“Kaz,” Inej says. She sounds neutral. Carefully neutral. Viciously neutral. Not like she’s sounded the rest of the night.

“You interrupted me before I finished reading my reports,” Kaz rasps. “I need to get back to work. Stay here.”

Inej shifts under Jesper’s head, jostling him off. She’s about to go after Kaz. Jesper touches her arm: turning the grab into a telegraphing move just in time, showing his intent to pull her back into bed without actually doing it. “Leave it,” he says—pleads, probably, he doesn’t have his shell fully back, and then he shouts after Kaz with as much obnoxious enthusiasm as he can muster, “That was fun, right? I had a great time. Let’s do this again!”

The door shuts.

Jesper burrows his head back into Inej’s lap, and then he says softly, “Let’s give him a little time to calm down. We all have our troubles.”

“I don’t know how you can do this,” Inej replies, stroking his hair. She sounds sad now: the last thing he wants for her, and Jesper doesn’t know how to make it better. “How you’re so reckless with your heart.”

“It’s nothing.” He’s laid out far more tonight than he’s ever intended, and that’s probably the answer. Jesper just doesn’t know when he should shut up. He gambles with everything. He’s only here because he gambled away the kruge he would have needed to escape Ketterdam, and because he carelessly lost his heart, too. Why not give everything else away when he’s not paying attention? He’s tried, Ghezen knows; he’s been watching Kaz and Inej for signs and made jokes and he weathered this pretty well for someone who doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing, who isn’t even trusted with their demons, but at the same time, when he’s trying to disguise and reveal so many things at once, something real’s bound to slip through. He whispers into Inej’s soft thigh, “Someone had to do it. That’s the point of partnerships: finding the person who can do what you can’t, and forcing them to do it.”

“Let me up for a second.”

Jesper doesn’t know what he’s going to do when Inej leaves too. Find another card game at the Crow Club, probably. Maybe even the Kaelish Prince, to really piss Kaz off. But Inej just pulls the duvet out from under him and gets onto the mattress again, spreading it over both of them. She puts her head on his shoulder and lies awkwardly half on top of him, the ribbing of her undershirt balancing out the mattress spring digging into his back, wrapping her arms around him. It’s almost too much.

This, more than anything that’s happened tonight, is too much. Jesper turns his head to the side. He rests his hands loosely on Inej’s back, then starts tracing random shapes.

“I’m sorry,” Inej says suddenly.

It takes a moment for Jesper to catch up. “For being concerned I was letting Kaz have his sordid way with me?”

Inej pokes him in the ribs, hard.

“You’re looking out for me, that’s good. I’m glad we talked. But I’m not as weak as I look, right? I know what I was getting into. I know how to take risks. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Jes, you’re the worst risk-taker I know. You don’t make many good choices. I’ve never seen as much money as you’ve gambled away. Don’t just gamble away your heart. You’ll get hurt,” Inej whispers.

Jesper, bravely, pretends to have suddenly fallen asleep.

Jesper’s hand is tangled in Inej’s hair. He uncurls it and then, his whole body, stretching out his arms and legs and the neck that’s aching from a severe lack of pillows. He uncurls, and regrets it immediately. Those long dark strands were the only thing that’s comfortable here: Inej must have moved a lot during the night, fighting for her place, and now she’s with her back to Jesper taking up more than half of the already narrow lumpy mattress, and she’s also wrapped up tight in Kaz’ thin duvet. The only duvet. Kaz could surely afford more, and Jesper doesn’t ever sleep with fewer than two blankets and a duvet and his old throw from home, not in the dank Ketterdam nights, but Kaz is an austere bastard who luxuriates in suffering, other people’s and his own, apparently, and even if he had another duvet then Inej would have stolen that one as well.

The bed smells of sweat: Inej’s, faintly, Jesper’s own, but below it, the soft sour odour of a certain someone not changing his bedclothes often enough after—knowing him, unpleasant dreams.

At least Jesper’s feet are still warm. Unlike everything else about him, because he’s still lying buck naked except for his socks in Kaz Brekker’s bed after getting him and Inej off and also singlehandedly solving everyone’s relationship troubles. His feet are nicely toasty and the rest is an icicle, goosebumped and shivering and he’s so lucky the room is pitch-black thanks to the curtains and Inej’s asleep and Kaz is gone, because roosting on top of the Slat may be a power thing on Kaz’ part but it’s also far draftier up here than down in Jesper’s room, so frigid that Jesper’s dick’s probably shrivelled back into his body. Not that it matters, and given the stuff they’ve been doing… Not that it matters, probably, to anyone but him. But hey, there’s value in being a little vain about your beauty. It got him into this bed, after all.

If Jesper let his teeth clatter so loud it woke up Inej, that would be pretty funny. She’d be mortified about hogging most of the mattress and the entire duvet. She’s also the one who had to do actual work the past two days, though, and probably even more than usual because Jesper was on his non-consensual vacation, so it all depends on how much of an asshole Jesper is. She was pretty sweet to him this night, so—

Jesper’s pulse jumps when a thin stripe of light appears on him, growing thicker, and then he closes his eyes and starts feigning sleep. A heartrender would call his bluff immediately, because his pulse is still racing: but a heartrender would know he’s awake even when he’s calm, most likely, though he’s never actually asked one about their powers. Maybe he should. At least find out whether it’s possible to force the light back under his skin when it’s started glowing out. But the only place where he’s gonna learn that is the Little Palace, and that’s the last place Jesper’ll ever go to.

If a heartrender got into this room, they’d have much bigger problems than whether Jesper can convincingly pretend to be asleep, though. It’s Kaz’ bedroom. No-one’s supposed to come in here uninvited. Except for Inej. Also, the door didn’t squeal when it opened. Someone knows those hinges intimately.

The quiet limping gait and the cane seal the deal. It’s Kaz. No reason for Jesper’s heart to gallop with terror, and at the same time—the best reason. What’s Kaz doing in here? Apart from this being his bedroom, and him probably needing to sleep too. Time to kick Jesper out, probably. Thanks, until next time, by the way why haven’t you sniped the Liddies’ treasurer yet. Should Jesper have gotten up as soon as he realized he was awake? But Inej’s here too, and Kaz wouldn’t just kick her out of bed.

He wouldn’t… this close, Jesper can hear the faint creaking of his leather gloves somewhere over his head. Somewhere to the left of him, where Inej’s sleeping, roughly where her head should be. Jesper doesn’t dare open his eyes, but he’d bet a thousand kruge Kaz is very softly petting her hair. He’s not jealous. He’s not hurt. He isn’t. He always knew what Kaz feels for Inej. Besides, Kaz is already hiding him and giving up a lot of money to keep his secret. Asking for anything more would be far too greedy, the kind of greed that costs everything: and Jesper doesn’t mind losing that much when it’s gambling, but Kaz… So he’s definitely not jealous.

He's opened his eyes, though, to confirm his suspicion, and sees Kaz pull back his hand and raise the tips of his gloved fingers to his lips. It’s too intimate. Jesper was never supposed to see Kaz like this, and he screws his eyes shut again, keeping his breathing free and even.

Fingertips ghost against the corner of Jesper’s mouth, so hesitant he almost misses them.

He might have, if he was still asleep; but those fingers are warmer than the air, and the rich earthy smell of leather tinged with the iron of old blood—the odour and sensation burn into him like the dark spots on his retinas when he once looked at the sun, and though he can’t taste any wetness, any spittle, he imagines them anyway. The glove touched Kaz’ lips before Jesper’s. He never imagined that Kaz would kiss him. Kiss Jesper. He licks his lips, because if these are the only traces of Kaz he’ll ever have inside him then—

“You’re awake,” Kaz hisses, still quietly enough not to wake Inej. “Get up.”

Jesper’s never managed to deny Kaz anything. The bed’s uncomfortable anyway.

He tiptoes quietly out into the office after his boss.

Kaz is proffering Jesper’s holstered guns, when Jesper turns around from trying to close the bedroom door as quietly as possible. It still made a tiny screech, but maybe, if Kaz lets him spend more time here then he’ll learn it well enough to…

“It’s a little past three bells. Mark Heener of the Liddies tends to leave his house at four to visit Lispet at the Sweet Shop so his wife won’t notice. It’s a good opportunity, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yeah, boss,” Jesper mumbles, still too mellowed by the scent of leather and old blood to come up with a decent riposte. “You got it. Anything you want.”

“Change the socks first, though,” Kaz rasps, and lets his eyes trail slowly up from Jesper’s feet to—yeah, Jesper’s still as good as naked.

“You know enough about anatomy to be aware that dicks shrink when it’s freezing, right?” Jesper means for it to come out more teasing and less self-conscious than it does, but Kaz is just staring at him. And not at his face, either. “You’re basically the Dregs’ boss. You can afford more than one duvet. In fact, I insist, and more pillows and a new mattress as well. When we’re doing this again I want to be actually comfortable.”

Kaz’ ears are slowly pinking up. It’ll have to be answer enough, because instead of reacting to Jesper’s unspoken question, the bastard just rasps, “It’s fifteen past now. You might need to hurry if you want to catch Heener before he gets to the Sweet Shop. And get to your room before anyone in the Slat wakes up, because I’ve already sent yesterday’s clothes to the laundry, so you can’t even slink to your room in my cast-offs.”

“I could protect my modesty with one of those gorgeous sweaty socks.” Jesper waggles his toes. In the green-and-yellow stripes, his feet look almost like grotesquely distended caterpillars. Sometimes he really misses the farm.

Kaz scowls.

“Don’t worry, boss.” Jesper buckles his holsters around his hips and winks at Kaz again. He’s too off-balance for a mock-seductive pose, but this will have to do. “This is all yours.”

#behold: the jesper character study pretending to be a pwp #jesper fahey #kaz brekker #inej ghaja #kaz x jesper #kaz x inej #jesper x inej #kaz x inej x jesper #sun summoner jesper au #dimtraces makes things #shadow & bone #shadow and bone

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trash-but-respectable-trash · 4 years

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The aftermath of No Time To Die (Diavolo POV)

Trigger warnings: Character(s) death(s), violence, depression, suicide, angst obviously

Summary: Diavolo disappointed his father and cannot live with this pain. He has to do something to make this right or else he won’t ever forgive himself. This is for the greater good of the demon race, he tells himself.

This is a continuation to my story No time to die, I suggest you go read the first part before this one, or this won’t make any sense. If you want to read this one first anyway is up to you.

Part one: No Time To Die

This is taking place right after MC’s performance of the song "no time to die".

How was he supposed to explained himself to his father, to the brothers, to Lucifer particularly and to all the demons. They all had grown to love you, you showed them a different view on humans and it’s when he saw all the demons present, crying over you that he came to that realization.

The brothers, Solomon, Simeon and Luke followed you off the stage. Diavolo told Barbatos to go with them, he would returned to the castle alone. He knew his plan had failed and that he couldn’t just go with all of them to say goodbye to Solomon, Luke and Simeon and then ask you to stay in the Devildom after what had just happened. He had to find another plan and quick.

Diavolo’s head was spinning as he flew back towards his castle. What was he supposed to do now? With one last hope, he anxiously waited for Barbatos to come back, maybe you would change your mind? Maybe Lucifer took his side and tried to convinced you to stay?

Of course, all hopes were crushed when Barbatos came back alone, simply telling the demon Lord that every exchange students had gone back home, including you.

Diavolo knees gave up on him as he fell to the floor. What was he going to say to his father? How dare you leave him like that. He had offer you everything you needed, showed you the most beautiful places in the Devildom and that’s how you repaid him?

Barbatos made him some tea that night, while Diavolo started to think of another plan. Alas, every time he thought of something, it was ruined by you somehow.

The whole point of this exchange program was to gained the trust of the Celestial Realm as well as the Human World. What if you’d told the angels of his true intentions? He knew for sure that you’d told Lucifer since he refused to came to the castle and Lucifer never refused anything from him since the day he fell from the Celestial Realm.

The next hours turned into days and days turned into weeks as he tried to found a solution so his plan could get back into action.

He could not start over again with another human, the brothers didn’t trust him anymore and the new human he would bring would learn of his plan sooner or later.

He still didn’t know if you said anything to the angels weeks after your departure and it was hunting him every passing moment. Diavolo knew full well he could be severely judged for his plan to rule the three worlds by the Celestial Realm and he knew they wouldn’t be kind to him. How disappointed would his father be if he lost the human that was supposed to help him reach his goal AND if he got judge for his actions by the Celestial Realm. His father would dishonored him on the spot.

Diavolo also knew that taking over the Human World and the Celestial Realm by force wouldn’t be a choice either, the demons of the Devildom would never follow him after he had lied to every single one of them by acting like he truly loved you. Demons cannot be trusted, but the future ruler of the Devildom should be trusted by his people.

Diavolo also knew that the brothers were going to the Human World quite often to see you and it pissed him off so much. Were you all trying to make a plan against him to dethroned him? Not only did he have to fear the punishment of the Celestial Realm, the failure he was to his own father, but also you and the brothers potentially wanting to take his place on the throne.

As the weeks passed, Diavolo became more and more depressed and paranoid. He reached the breaking point about three months after you left the Devildom. He hadn’t slept in what felt like weeks. He would sometimes drift in and out of sleep, before Barbatos would wake him up. But he refused to leave his office, he would find a way to make this right to his father one way or another.

By the middle of the fourth month, Diavolo started hallucinating that you were in his office mocking him for not being good enough to reach his goal. He screwed everything and his father was going to be so mad, that’s what you kept telling him over and over again while you laughed at him. He would scream for you to stop only for Barbatos to run into the room and witness his Master crying into his hands.

Barbatos wanted to do something, but he couldn’t go against his Master’s orders. So instead, he watched the prince fell more and more into madness. Barbatos had tried to talk to Lucifer, he had thought that Lucifer could potentially ask you to come back, not for long, just enough to show Diavolo his hallucinations weren’t real.

Barbatos cannot say he expected Lucifer to say yes, but he also didn’t expect Lucifer to tell him to fuck off before slamming the door to the House of Lamentation in his face.

Barbatos really tried everything he could to save Diavolo, but when he looked into every future possible, he couldn’t found any that ended well for the prince of hell. At this point, all Barbatos could do was prevent his Lord from hurting himself more than he had already done.

One day, after about four months and three weeks, Diavolo finally stopped seeing you in his office. The hallucinations completely stopped. Actually, he stopped feeling anything at all, he felt numb. He thought at first that he had died, but Barbatos assured him that he was still alive, much to Diavolo’s disappointment.

He took this opportunity to wrote one final letter to his father. His head was finally clear and he knew exactly what his new plan was going to be. He felt like himself for the first time in months and he knew he had to act quick if he wanted to go through with his new plan.

He explained everything in his letter to his father and he knew there was no going back now. He would make this right somehow. Diavolo asked Barbatos to send the letter ASAP and to not read it or let anyone read it under any circumstances. Barbatos was worried of course, this was the first time since he started working for the prince that he hid something from him, but he was a Butler and he had to respect the orders he received.

Diavolo knew he only had a few minutes before Barbatos came back, so he quickly opened a portal leading to the front of your house and immediately walked into it.

It was the middle of the day in the Human World. Diavolo knew he would need to be careful so nobody would notice him while he was breaking into your house.

Lucky for him, one of the windows on the first floor was wide open. Diavolo carefully squeezed himself through the window. It was a tight fit, but he still managed to get inside without making too much sound.

Diavolo could hear some noise coming from one of the rooms on the first floor. He quietly made his way towards it and there you were, sitting at your desk that was back to the door, making it easy for Diavolo to not be seen as he approached you from behind.

As he walked towards you, Diavolo noticed that you were wearing headphones. You really should be more careful, you never know when someone will sneak up on you.

He was now standing right behind you as you still had no idea that you weren’t alone in your house. Diavolo didn’t waste any time as he spun you around to face him, ripping your headphones off in the same motion. He didn’t let you time to react as he grabbed your throat with inhuman force and slammed you against the nearest wall.

You looked at him with so much fear in your eyes that Diavolo almost felt bad for doing this, almost. He continued to squeeze your throat until you passed out. He truly wanted to kill you in this moment, but he had to remind himself of his plan and killing you would ruin it, so he chose to lay you on your bed instead. He let out a deep breath and even a small chuckle as he looked at your unconscious form. Humans were so weak it was laughable.

Diavolo stood there, right next to your bed as he waited for the next part of his plan to go into action. It only took about two minutes before he felt a pair of hands grab him from behind. Finally, he told himself.

Diavolo knew exactly who it was and where he was being taken to, so it came as no surprise for him when he got dragged into what he could only assumed as a portal, as his vision went black for a couple of seconds. The next thing he saw was the opposite of the pitch blackness he just witnessed, it was the purest white anyone could see. A white so bright it blinded Diavolo for a while until his eyes adjusted to the brightness of what he easily recognized as the Celestial Realm.

Ah. The Celestial Realm where everything is the complete opposite of the darkness and the sorrow of the Devildom. It disgusted Diavolo. This was the opposite of everything that he was and standing in front of him was someone who was the opposite of who he was. Michael the Archangel, the fatal enemy of his once right hand, Lucifer Morningstar.

This came as no surprise as Diavolo was very aware of the fact that the Celestial Realm was watching demons from above every time they went to the Human World, to make sure they weren’t corrupting souls or whatever angels thought demons were doing back in the Devildom. Every time Diavolo went to the Human World, he always felt like someone was watching him, judging him.

Diavolo was less than thrilled to be on this holy land, especially since he knew what was awaiting him, but he still spoke up.

“Hello Michael, we haven’t met in a while. How have you been?” Diavolo asked mockingly.

“Hello Diavolo. I suppose you already know why you are here right now, but just in case I will tell you. You injured an human and you know we cannot let demons do such a thing.” Michael replied.

“Insightful as always Michael. Let me cut this short if you will, the sun of the Celestial Realm is already burning my skin. I’m here to confess something that you already knew off, I’m sure. To put it simply, the human I injured was no random human and this was no random act, she was one of the exchange student from my program. My plan was to marry her so she could take my side when I would finally take over the Human World and then the Celestial Realm.” Diavolo knew at this point, that he shouldn’t say more if he didn’t want to die, but he couldn’t back down at this point. This was all part of his plan after all. “Well, actually the whole student exchange program was just a stratagem. I created it to make it seemed like I wanted the three realms to live in peace again, but that was never my real intention. It was all a selfish act.” Diavolo added.

Michael couldn’t understand why Diavolo was so blunt with him, he knew that this information was enough for him to be sentenced to death for treason.

“Why are you telling me all of this?” Is all Michael managed to asked.

“Don’t act like you don’t know why I’m doing this. Simeon and Luke must have already told you all of this already. Why didn’t you come for me sooner? Where you trying to torture me by making me paranoid and then attack me when I least expected it? Is that it?” Diavolo was getting frustrated as the angel in front of him acted like he didn’t know anything about this.

“I have no idea what you are talking about, Simeon and Luke never mentioned anything of the sort to me and I know they would have if they knew about it. They would never hide anything from me.” Michael answered.

Diavolo was taken aback, he couldn’t believe you hadn’t told the angels of his plan knowing that they could protect you from him, at least as long as you stayed in the Human World. But it didn’t matter, he had come this far and it was already too late for him to turn back. Diavolo couldn’t live with the thought of his father being disappointed in him and his constant selfishness wasn’t suitable for the next ruler of the Devildom. His plan had to work this time, no matter the cost.

“I have no choice but to formally accuse you of treason upon the Human World and the Celestial Realm. I think you already know what the sentence is.” Michael told Diavolo.

Of course Diavolo knew of the punishment awaiting him, but he simply nodded. He knew this was just a formal accusation and the one who would officially accused him would have to be no other than God.

Diavolo almost laughed, how ironic was it, that the next ruler of the Devildom, the son of the King of hell, was now going to be judge for his actions by God himself. How pathetic was it and all of this because of a simple human that turned out to be less stupid than he made them to be.

Judgements like this usually took place in the Devildom and Diavolo would be the one doing the judging. With no place to take Diavolo while he was waiting for his judgement, Michael had to chained him to one of the pillar of God’s residing place to make sure he wouldn’t escape or do more damage while he was up in the Celestial Realm. Every angel passing by could see Diavolo chained to the pillar like the beast he truly was. It was a hit to Diavolo’s pride, being displayed like this, but he reminded himself that this was less painful than the constant reminder that he was a failure to his father.

It took what felt like eternity, but was probably only a few minutes, for someone to come take Diavolo inside God’s castle.

The one who took him inside was no other than Simeon. No words were spoken as they walked towards the Golden Gates behind which God was residing.

Diavolo’s judgement was short, on accounts of conspiracy against both the Celestial Realm and the Human World and for injuring an innocent human, Diavolo was sentenced to death, taking place immediately.

Diavolo knew when he hurt you and then admitted everything to Michael, that he wouldn’t leave the Celestial Realm alive.

He was so focused on his new plan that he didn’t think about anyone but himself in that moment. He didn’t think that it would hurt his Butler, his dearest friend, to not being able to prevent him from dying or even to say goodbye to him.

Even as Diavolo thought of Barbatos, he knew it was better this way. Barbatos couldn’t go back in time to prevent this from happening, he couldn’t reasoned with Diavolo to make him change his mind. Not telling Barbatos anything was the best thing to do.

He already wrote his final letter to his father, there was nothing left to do for Diavolo. This was how it was supposed to end. His father would find a more suitable ruler, someone who wasn’t a coward like him and eventually everyone would forget about him. Diavolo was at peace with his decision. When he would take his last breath, it would mean one of his plan had finally worked and that he had finally made it right to his father.

Since Diavolo was a true demon and such a powerful one at that, the only way to kill him was to use the Night Dagger.

It didn’t take long before Michael handed Diavolo the Night Dagger. They were still in God’s castle as there were no where suitable for this to happen in the Celestial Realm.

Diavolo knew he would have to basically commit suicide since angels could not kill. He turned to Simeon and asked him to make sure his final letter would reach his dad.

Diavolo then looked at the Night Dagger sitting in his hands. There was no turning back now, this was it. The final act, his redemption to his father. Diavolo took in one last breath, he pointed the dagger towards his demon heart and before landing the final strike he whispered to himself: “I made it father... everything is perfect... my plan finally worked.” Right after he finished his sentence, Diavolo stabbed himself straight into his heart in a perfect motion. It looked like he had rehearsed it a thousand times.

Simeon and Michael watched as Diavolo’s body turned to dust. Michael immediately opened a portal to the Devildom, sending Simeon there to make sure Diavolo’s last wish was granted.

Back in the Devildom, minutes before Diavolo took his own life, Barbatos could feel like something wasn’t right. All the doors to any future or any other timelines were locked. For as long as Barbatos has lived, this had never happened before. Barbatos ran back to Diavolo’s office with the letter still in his hands. When he entered the office, Diavolo was nowhere to be found. Barbatos quickly opened the letter in his hands despite the order his Master gave him, this was an emergency.

“Dear father,

This is your son again, I know I wrote to you about five months ago, but I have to tell you about what happened after the last letter I sent you.

My plan did not work. The human, she found the letter I sent you on my desk and she only told me about it on the last day of the student exchange program. When she told me, I did not try to manipulate her or to keep her here by force. I foolishly thought she would change her mind about leaving me and the Devildom so I let her go.

This was my second mistake, as you see, she told the seven avatars of hell of my plan and I am sure she told the angels as well. I know that the Celestial Realm will come to get me soon. I lost the trust of all the demons in the Devidom, including my right arm, Lucifer. The only one who is still by my side is my Butler, Barbatos.

I did not realized how much the demons appreciated the human and they all know now of what I did to her. Least to say, the higher ranking demons were not pleased that I lied to them about the human and I being in love and they are probably already looking for a more proper future king to present to you.

You must wonder why I am telling you all of this when I know how disappointed you are going to be with me. It is simple father, I am a coward. I am scared everyday of the repercussions of my actions and the humiliation that will come when the Celestial Realm will finally come to punish me. This is why I am making a new plan and I will not rest until it is completed. I was a disappointment to you, father and I promise that the next ruler won’t be a coward like me.

First, I will go to the Human World, to her place in particular. I will break into her house and injure her just enough so she will be unconscious, but not dead. After all I did to her, it would make me even more of a coward if I was to kill her, especially when she least expects it. She does not deserve to die, at least not yet. I know the Celestial Realm is watching her from above and they will be quick to take me there to receive proper punishment.

This won’t do, I need to take responsability for all of my sins. I will tell them of my previous plan whether they already knew about it or not. I know the only proper punishment for this is death and I am ready to accept it. With me dead, you will be able to choose a king who can rule the Devildom better than I could and who will truly think about what is best for us demons. I was selfish and I placed my hunger for power above everything else. Please choose wisely the next demon king. I will make it right to you and your legacy, father, I promise.

Your son,

Diavolo.”

Barbatos felt a rage coming from within him as he read the final words of the letter.

In the House of Lamentation, Lucifer could feel that something was wrong. He didn’t know what, but he knew he had to go to the castle even if he hadn’t talked to Diavolo in months.

As Lucifer reached for the door and entered the castle, he could feel like a huge weight was taking of his shoulders and off his soul. He felt free from any bounds for the first time since he fell. In shocked, he locked eyes with Barbatos who’s aura radiated pure wrath that could only rivaled with Satan’s.

They both knew what this feeling meant. Diavolo was dead. Barbatos was now free from his Butler duties and Lucifer was free from his oath.

Barbatos was the first one to react. He saw red as he started thinking about how all of this was your fault. If you weren’t so dumb you wouldn’t have fell for Diavolo in the first place! And if you valued your life you wouldn’t have left him the way you did and turned everyone against Diavolo, his Master, his friend.

Barbatos wanted to kill you, to make you feel the same pain Diavolo must have felt. In this instance, he didn’t care about the consequences, he had to make it right to his friend. What was a Butler without his Master and who was Barbatos without Diavolo?

As he started making a portal to the Human World, he felt a hand pulled him backwards. He thought this was Lucifer and he was ready to latched at him until he saw that it was Simeon that was standing behind him.

“What are you doing here? You wanted to rub in our face that your Lord won over ours?” Barbatos spat at Simeon.

Simeon calm as usual, told him: “I’m simply here to make sure Diavolo’s last wish is granted. For your information, this was his decision and I’m guessing you probably already read the letter, so you should already be aware of that fact.”

Lucifer still had no clue what was going on. Simeon resumed to him what had just happened back in the Celestial Realm.

Simeon then told Barbatos that he wouldn’t leave until he was sure the letter was sent to the king. Barbatos not wanting to see the face of an angel any longer, delivered the letter himself to the king. He had to go to the deepest pits of hell to reach the King. There was a moment where Barbatos wanted to jump into the lava, where the statue of the king was in.

But at the last minute, he could see in his mind the face of Diavolo telling him to live his life as a free demon and to not worry about him. He had made peace with himself. Wether that was an hallucination or truly Diavolo speaking to him, Barbatos had to listen to his Master and went back up to the castle where Simeon and Lucifer were waiting.

Lucifer spoke first: “Barbatos we understand you are mad, but we cannot let you hurt MC and we will do everything in our power to protect her no matter what.”

Barbatos sighed, this would be hard as hell to get through the death of his best friend, but he had to respect Diavolo’s wishes and since he was a pretty grounded demon, it didn’t take him much time at all to think about the consequences that would come if he was to hurt you. Instead, he decided to let you live your life as far away from his as possible.

With Diavolo’s death and the king incapacity to rule the Devildom because of his old age, the seven Avatars of hell had to take over and rule the Devildom. Naturally, the main ruler was Lucifer as he was the oldest and the one who was in the best position to take this role and make sure his brothers weren’t causing even more trouble than usual.

Barbatos decided to stepped back and as soon as everything was settled at the castle and that Diavolo had a proper funeral, he left the Devildom completely. It was too much of a reminder of the lost of his best friend. Instead, he decided to explore the Human World, sometimes accompanied by his long time friend, Solomon.

The only good thing for Barbatos was that he wasn’t afraid of running into you by accident since he learned from Solomon that you had officially moved back in the Devildom. In the castle with the brothers, to be exact. The brothers had to renovated the castle entirely since you did not feel comfortable living where Diavolo once lived, especially if it looked the same as before.

You did attend Diavolo’s funerals as well as Simeon, who was mostly there to make sure you were safe. This gave you the opportunity to forgive Diavolo for everything he had done to you and move on for good.

There was nothing left for you to do now in the Human World and no one preventing you from living with you true family, the brothers.

From the day of Diavolo’s death to the day you finally moved in with the brothers, you kept having nightmares that kept you up at night. You would always see Diavolo in your nightmares and you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was actually him and not just your brain imagining things.

Thankfully, during your transition from the Human World to the Devildom, at least one of the brothers would stay at your place with you to make sure you were safe. They always felt guilty for not protecting you twice, once when you where in the Devildom and the second time when Diavolo attacked you at your house. They had to constantly wake you up because you were always screaming at the top of your lunges for Diavolo to stop hurting you.

As soon as you officially moved into the castle with the brothers, the nightmares stopped. It was probably because they all decided to sleep in the same bed as you, in the hopes that the nightmares would finally stop. Oh well, it didn’t matter what the reason was, all you knew was that with them being the new rulers of hell, you knew you were safe, even in your dreams.

I hope you guys liked part 2! If you enjoyed, please leave a like or reblog, it’s very much appreciated. Love you ❤️.

#obey me #obey me!#obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me swd #obey me mammon #obey me beelzebub #obey me asmodeus #obey me diavolo #obey me belphegor #obey me leviathan #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me Solomon #obey me luke #obey me writing #obey me fanfic

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pikemoreno · 4 years

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if you ever wanna be in love

Chapter I: Coffee Cures All Ills

a/n: Here it is folks! The first part of a Marcus fic heavily inspired by the Netflix rom-com Set It Up.

It’s more structurally and conceptually inspired and not an exact scene-for-scene remake because a) I was interested in the idea of this not even really being an AU. This is extremely canon-compliant and you’ll see more of that as we continue on. 😏And b) because I had lots of ideas that spun off from watching Set It Up that I just liked better for the purpose of this fic. So that’s what you can expect. It’s gonna be cheesy and fun and great.

The first couple of chapters are a lot of, well, set up (which has been infuriating). But we’ll get into the meat of it soon. My outline says so.

As a side note, a lot of the gifs I’m going to be using are from the movie, but these are not my face claims for any of the characters. I’m using them simply for the ~vibe~ of the chapter. Reader is not a small white girl... Or she might be. She is you. Or whatever OC you’d like her to be. Period.

And that’s it. Let’s go, I guess.

pairing: marcus pike x f!reader

word count: 2k (probably one of the shortest chapters we’re gonna see out of the 14-ish lolz)

warnings: none, and i don’t expect there to really be any serious ones in upcoming chapters either. this is just fun.

Marcus Pike never wanted to fall in love.

He’d seen what it had done to him in failed relationships including everything up to a failed marriage. Some would argue that it wasn’t love then, that love doesn’t fail, so it couldn’t have been. But he disagreed. He knows it when it hits. It comes on you like lightning, bright and fast. You accept it, letting it run through your veins, and risk suffering a fatal blow to your heart. And it most definitely can fatally fail. It can cause joy and pain in equal measure. He’d already been struck so painfully once, the blow of the electricity going straight to his heart. He was beginning to hope to the high heavens that he wouldn’t be so unlucky as to be struck a second time, just in case it should reach his heart so painfully once more.

Marcus Pike never wanted to fall in love.

He felt that especially strongly as he watched Adrian go through his recent break-up. He felt for his fellow agent, he really did. Adrian was completely convinced Sam was the one, sold to the point of going ring shopping soon. But one brief mention of an engagement sent Sam running for the hills. He’d been moping around the office for a couple of weeks now and, as much as Marcus understood the pain, he was already really looking forward to Adrian’s rebound or some similar distraction. He was needing his friend’s signature fire back right about now, not to mention his focus. His work had gotten sloppy in this mourning period. He was constantly distracted. Marcus was dreading getting him on this case today, but maybe it was just the push he needed. He hoped. He stepped up to Adrian’s desk, watching the glazed over look in his eye.

“Hey, Adrian, do you mind getting a head start on this? I’d really like you to be our head man on--” he slid the file onto his desk, but was cut short by Adrian’s response. A response that had nothing to do with anything Marcus had just said.

“I’m gonna die alone,” he muttered, hands supporting his chin, elbows on his desk. Marcus let out an exasperated sigh that he didn’t seem to notice.

“You’re not gonna die alone,” he played along once again, rubbing his temple.

“Maybe I’ll go be a monk. They never have to worry about this shit.”

“An honorable profession.”

“Yeah.” Adrian blinked out of his dream-like state. “I’m doing it again, aren’t I?” Marcus nodded rigidly. “Sorry, Pike.” He opened the file, nodding slowly, “Yeah, I’ll get on this.”

“You look exhausted,”

“I am,” he admitted sheepishly.

“I’m making a break room run to get coffee, you want one?”

“Please.” Marcus nodded his understanding and made his way down the hall to the break room. He doubted a case and a coffee could get his friend back on track, but he could hope, right?

***

If you had to listen through one more of Wendy’s mood swings, you might just scream. You love the girl, you really do. She’s your friend and the best boss you could’ve asked for, but Lord Almighty, had she been in rare form. Some days she was perfectly fine, strutting around like she didn’t care that her asshole boyfriend Daniel gave her an ultimatum instead of a ring on their last anniversary. Other days would see her doing a complete 180, shutting herself in her office and weeping into suspect files. Your least favorite days, though, were days where the heartbreak made her angry, where thinking about Daniel saying “It’s me or your job” made her border-line vengeful. But, unfortunately for you and the rest of the team, he wasn’t around to take the beating.

You couldn’t say you entirely understood. The short catalog of even shorter flings that you boasted brought largely apathy rather than heartbreak. You couldn’t say you’d ever been in love like Wendy had been. You’d never felt anything quite that strong-- and thank goodness for that. It wasn’t something you particularly looked forward to, at least, not the way you’d seen it lately. It was an uncontrollable force, dangerous and all-consuming. You liked control, liked being in your right mind. If love was to take up it's unfortunate residence, you could only hope it was for someone worth losing your mind over. You hadn’t seen anyone of the sort so far.

Unfortunately, it was already too late for Wendy Harrod. The already intimidating head of the Jewelry & Gem Theft Program in Texas was in rare form. You watched as an HR intern ran from her office in near tears. Poor Randy. Her sharp “come in” in response to your knock on her door made you wince.

“Harrod, I have the results of that house search you requested if you--”

“No, no! Absolutely not, I cannot handle this right now,” she was absolutely raging, leaving you grasping at straws for a response.

“I-- Uh-- Of course. I’ll just leave it right here whenever--” you placed it gently on the end table by the door before being interrupted again.

“Ughhhhh,” she groaned out before flopping into her desk chair, the red leather creaking as she let sit spin her around once, “I’m sorry. I’m being mean.” There was your Wendy.

“Just a little.”

“Sorry, sorry. Bring that here please.”

“What can I do for you? As your friend, I mean. You--” you weighed your words carefully as you hand her the report, “You haven’t quite been yourself since…” you stopped that thought, “Well, lately.” She sighed, shaking her head.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what I need,” she began to skim the report before looking back up with you with a tight lipped smile, “Maybe a coffee? For the more immediate problems anyway.” You laughed.

“Now that I can do. I’m headed there now. Break room coffee ok?”

“That’d be perfect.”

“The usual?”

“The usual.” She yelled after you as you walk down the hall, “You’re an angel!”

She wasn’t gonna be saying that when you came back without coffee.

The sign on the coffee pot reading “out of coffee” was going to seriously ruin your reputation and Wendy’s sensitive mood. You ran through the options: you couldn’t leave to get her a Starbucks; there were some bottled iced coffees in the fridge, but Wendy hated them; you could wait for someone to make a run at lunch and pass on the order, but this was too urgent. Then it hit you. Everyone knew the sixth floor had the better coffee stock anyway. The art freaks loved their fancy stuff. You could always just waltz down a floor and snag two cups from their stash. 5 minutes in and out. No harm done, no questions asked.

Or so you thought.

The sixth floor break room was already occupied when you walked in, finding another agent also brewing a morning cup in a single cup coffee maker.

They really did have everything here: multiple pots, another much fancier looking machine that looked like it might come to life and attack at any moment, recyclable coffee cups, every type of creamer. You name it.

You’d have to sneak over here more often.

You stepped up to the larger coffee pot, rinsing out the carafe before reaching for the container of grounds. Empty.

They had everything here. Except coffee.

Was the whole damn building in a coffee famine? You didn’t have time to check.

“No, no, no, no,” you panicked, frantically searching the cabinet for another container. In your peripheral you could see the other agent look at you like you’d grown two heads. You couldn’t be bothered with his judgement, but you met his eyes to ask, maybe a little too frantically.

“Is that the last of it?” you questioned, eyeing the cup he was brewing.

“Well, yeah, sorry.” It was obvious he meant it, but apologies were not what you were needing right now.

“Shit.”

“Withdrawals?” he laughed a little at your panicked state, but it wasn’t demeaning. He was genuinely amused, and maybe a little concerned, but it made you narrow your eyes at him all the same. You were not in the mood for the mocking, no matter how light-hearted it may be. No matter how much it was softened by the bright smile next to you.

“It’s not for me. It’s for my boss. My very upset boss who needs just one small ounce of joy in her life right now. The kind of joy that can only come from the fueling of her caffeine addiction, so if I could please just have that cup?” You blinked at him innocently, but his dark brown eyes widened as he shook his head

“What? No. I have a friend who needs this. If I don’t bring him this, he won’t be working for the rest of the day.”

“If I don’t bring my boss a cup of coffee in the next two minutes, I will probably not be working again. Ever. I will be dead. Do you want to be complicit in a murder, Agent--” you glanced at his badge, “Pike? Can you really live with that?”

“You’re awfully dramatic aren’t you?”

“I wish it was an exaggeration.” He inspected your badge then too.

“Jewelry and Gem Theft. Floor 7, right? What brings you down here to steal our coffee?” The argument was pointed, but his demeanor was anything but. He was smiling, enjoying this. A little too much, you seethed. You couldn’t stand around arguing all day.

“We’re out too.”

“Try another floor?”

“Time is of the essence here, Art Squad.” There was no room for addressing him politely now, he was riling you up on purpose.

“If you didn’t stand here arguing with me you could’ve tried another floor by now, Jewels.”

He must think he’s so clever.

“Please. This is DEFCON 5.”

“You do know DEFCON 5 is the good one, right?”

“You know what I mean. Please.” He looked at you and then the newly brewed cup, biting the inside of his cheek, thinking through the problem.

“Tell you what. I am willing to split this if you are. Maybe it’s enough to fix both of them.” The crease between his eyebrows was deep as he studied your face, “I know Adrian is too out of it to notice he’s getting jipped, not sure about your boss.” You shrugged.

“Wendy will manage. It’s enough to keep her from throwing something at my head next time I walk in.” He dutifully split the coffee between two of the recyclable travel cups and handed one to you. You took it gratefully.

“I hope this keeps you from… Dying? What’s up with that anyway?” You’re not sure what made this person that was essentially a stranger so interested in your life, but something about it feels nice.

“She had a really bad breakup: anniversary, thought it was going to be a proposal, instead it was him being a piss-baby. She’s a little all over the place right now. They’d been together for years and now there’s just… A hole. She doesn’t know how to deal with it.” Pike’s nod in response is emphatic, giving the cup in his hand a little wave.

“Same with him. Terrible breakup. He didn’t see it coming at all. She broke up with him on a voicemail… Then moved. ‘Course it just put him in this crazy funk, though. Doesn’t wanna work or do much of anything. No violence. Yet. But it’s sad to see.” You winced.

“That’s a rough one. Best of luck with him, Art Squad. Thank you. I owe you one. Seriously.”

“You definitely do, Jewels.” His smile is blindingly bright as he jokes. It makes you smile back.

“See you around.”

series taglist: @whiskeyslasso @ahopelessromanticwritersworld

forever tags: @acomplicatedprofession @hdlynn @makaela27 @space-floozy @catfishingmorales @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @princessbatears @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @findhimfives

#im not in love with this first chapter but hey!#gotta start somewhere #marcus pike x reader #iyewbil #bri writes

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mymindwide · 4 years

Text

Madness

Pairing: Ashton x Female reader

Word count: 3464

Warning: jealousy, angst, feelings, smut with fingering, male receiving blowjob, riding and fluff. A little from everything.

Summary: You started out as part time lovers, but maybe one of you want more?

Author’s note: The inspiration behind this piece was a part of the lyrics of the song - Escape from LA by The Weeknd.

She pulled up to the studio Nobody's watching She closed the door and then she locked it For me, for me We had sex in the studio Nobody walked in I cut my verse and then she popped it For me, for me

...

She got Chrome Hearts hangin' from her neck And them shits going wild When she ride, she hold tight She gon' ride 'til sweat fall down her spine

My beautiful angel, my nr. 1 supporter, my partner in hoeing @littledrummerangie (aka @littledrummeraussie) asked me/convinced me to post this. If you’ll like it, thank her. Take care and enjoy your read.

*****

“Should we maybe test it together?” his eyes bored into yours leaving no doubt about his intentions.

“Lead the way, handsome…” came the immediate response from you, as you slithered your hand in his leaving no doubt for him about your consent.

The offering referred to the club’s renovated bathroom where the two of you locked yourself up.

That’s how it all started, how you ended up on the counter of the VIP club’s bathroom, your skirt rolled up to your waist, your panties pulled aside, being fucked by a handsome stranger you just met but immediately found a mutual point regarding why you visited the club in the first place.

None of you thought it could be more than a one night stand, but you officially became fuck buddies. Both of you went there to have fun and find someone who could possibly help release the tension and stress that slowly aggregated in you and couldn’t find a quick way out for lack of a partner. You thought you’d just “fallen in love” for that particular night but it was good enough for both of you that you changed numbers and agreed on that you have to repeat it sometime in the future. But your second quickie was followed by another and then another one…

Actually you were surprised how easily and smoothly you came to terms over what you two had – high-class sex, no strings attached. It is what it is, without complications. You enjoyed each other’s company and body and with that you took everything the other could offer. As it turned out on the day of your acquaintance in the club, both of your latest failed relationships taught you enough to not get involved in anything serious, at least for now, and this was good enough for the both of you. The only rule you insisted on was that there are no rules. You called or texted each other whenever you needed each other, but otherwise everyone could go on their separate way, and do whatever they wish with whoever they please.

Over the course of your ongoing fuck buddiness various locations provided a safe place for you to luxuriate your desires - sometimes he invited you to his home, sometimes it was you who had him up to your flat, but if you lost the fight against your eagerness, on several occasions you did it in his car as well – all in the name of mutual agreement of the friends with benefits state, except that you couldn’t even be called friends. You talked, of course, beside the sex, and you know little things about the other, but serious or deep things? Heaven-shattering big secrets? Not so much.

And this is exactly why you were so surprised by your own reaction at finding out that most likely your part time lover has someone else to have fun with. It’s been a pleasant Friday afternoon, you were spending your lunch-break sitting on the terrace of your favorite restaurant at noon having just finished with your lunch, when surfing through the daily news at the tabloid section you found paparazzi pictures of Ashton with a seemingly nice-looking girl while they’re having breakfast and coffee, smiling and laughing. You felt a strange grip in your heart - a painful reminder of something you tried to push back into the depths of your mind, something you didn’t want to acknowledge, something that you realized just recently yourself. That although according to your agreement you’d have had every opportunity and right to meet or date other men, you didn’t. You simply weren’t interested in anyone else, because he was completely enough for you. He takes good care of your physical needs; he is smart, handsome and has a sense of humor that just cannot be competed with. The long and short of it, he’s a decent guy you could imagine more with, if you weren’t so disappointed in your previous affairs or relationships. This was too good with Ashton to ruin it. You needed him in your life. But it looks like you are not enough. Again...

You haven’t seen him in a week cuz they started working in the studio on their upcoming material, so much you know. You missed him, which was already a warning sign for you about your possibly changing feelings, but for this particular reason you wanted to give him even more space than he already has based on your very open and sex oriented relationship. No calls, no texts, no requests for impromptu meetings. You lost all your concentration skills for the rest of the day and you thank god that you have a pretty silent afternoon in the office. Your mind had been clouded with questions like ‘why’ and ‘what can that girl give him that you can’t’? Thoughts and images of your encounters torture you that also can’t give you reassuring answers to your constantly popping up questions.

When you close your eyes you hear yourself chanting his name after your second or third orgasm he gave you…; you hear him praising God while you suck him off; you hear him whispering ‘how much I love fucking your tight little pussy’ in your ear while you’re on all fours in front of him; and you just love him doing exactly that. God, how much you love his dirty mouth, sometimes you think you could just get off simply by hearing him talking dirty, because he’s that good with his words… Sex works perfectly between you two and you understand each other on the little things you share with the other. The unanswered questions riled you up so much that a thought has planted itself in your mind. You’ll show him. If this is the last thing you two will do, you’ll show him what he’ll miss and beg back.

You drove home and picked out your sexiest short mini dress with a very nice cleavage that does justice to your breasts he loves oh so much. ‘They are wonderful, my angel’ Ash’s words echoes in your mind as the image of his lips closing on your hardened nipples runs in front of your mind’s eye. To the picture in your head a familiar ache would start to build in your core but your anger and desperation is stronger now. So the dress is on, lingerie is not… You spray on from his favorite perfume and get in your car again to drive a good twenty minutes to the studio they use and he showed you once.

It’s kinda late now when you arrive, you assume they are about to finish their day and it turns out you’re not wrong as you bump into the other three guys in front of a door that has a red flashing RECORDING sign above. Three very surprised pairs of eyes looked you up and down.

“Hey guys… Is Ashton here?” your eyes have scanned the hallway behind the three men.

“Sweetie, fans are not allowed here. How did you…?” a scruffy faced blond guy questioned you, who you know for a fact is called Michael.

“Oh, I’m not a fan,” you interrupt Mikey immediately, “I mean, I like your music, you are great and all, but I’m really just here to see Ash” you tried to remain as calm as possible seeing their confusion getting bigger.

You’re not surprised the slightest bit that they have no idea who you are. But you’ve been doing this for almost four months now and they are not suspecting anything? Now that amazes you. Ash is very clever at keeping things private, except when it comes to breakfast dates with pretty blond girls. This tiny fact just adds to your growing inner fury.

“Guys, are we gonna leave...” the door has opened and Ash’s words stuck in his throat the second he saw you standing in the hallway with his bandmates.

You can see the surprise in his eyes as he’s still taking your sight in, but you’re not the only one, the other three looked at him and then each other, possibly considering calling the security on you, but fortunately Ash could sense this and with finally opening his mouth he prevented further unwanted complications.

“Y/N…” at least those three worried eyes could see he knows your name, so probably you’re not a random stranger from the street.

“Can we talk?” your voice remained soft, but your eyes mirrored sadness and impatience and he could read that that second.

“It’s okay guys. See ya tomorrow.”

After a ‘Tomorrow’ a ‘See ya’ and a suspicious ‘I’ll call you later’ from each of them, they left you two there not taking the trouble to say a single word to you. If you weren’t in this stormy state of mind you’d let yourself be moved over the fact how cute is that these young adult men are worried about their brother.

The door has been closed behind you and you turned back to turn the lock shut making sure no one can disturb your rendezvous. You walked towards him without saying a word, your eyes refused to leave his, and you saw he probably would have liked to say or rather ask something but his eyes wandered on you - exactly the effect you wanted to go for with that dress.

Tiptoeing you cupped his cheeks in your hands and captured his lips with yours in a feverish manner, and his in response jump automatically onto your hips. Your hands don’t spend too much time on his face as they slide down his chest and reaching between you, you start to unbuckle his belt.

Ashton pulls away just enough to ask ‘What is going on’, which comes out rather breathy, and your hands halts for a second on his zipper while you answer a quick ‘I need you’ back to cut your conversation short, and seeing the desperation in your eyes he decides not to force it for now, just give himself in to whatever you’re about to do – which he has an idea for as your hand slide in his boxer and your warm palm wraps around his still limp member to free it.

No matter how worked up or angry you are, in its weird twisted way what you were about to do turned you on and holding his soft cock in your hand figuratively made your mouth water. You dropped yourself on your knees in front of him and pushed him in your mouth immediately, you wanted to enjoy his softness and that this way he still fits fully and perfectly in, which will change as soon as you’ll start sucking him, so you wanted to lengthen and luxuriate these moments a bit. Especially as this is probably your last opportunity to do this to him, to hear those beautiful and breathy moans. Because if your suspicion proves to be true, no matter what you agreed on at the beginning of your “relationship”, you have changed your mind, and don’t want to share him with anyone. Then that’s it for you, you’re ready to walk away.

You started with slow movements, just suck him in and pull him out as your lips brushing against his shaft until he hardened enough; then you let your tongue play along his velvety skin leaving open mouth kisses on his shaft while palming his balls for the better and quicker effect. When his tip started releasing his pre cum, you happily smeared it on his tip with the circular motions of your tongue while looking straight in his eyes receiving the same admiration and lust you’ve seen every single time you did this to him. The only difference had been that his hands are resting on the mixing desk grabbing onto its edge instead of being buried in your hair guiding your movements and praising your lips wrapping so perfectly around his cock. He really is a clever guy, and respects that for now you are in control, he most likely sees that you are in need of it, and he’ll do whatever you give permission for.

You made this blowjob sloppy for him to slick him up enough and reaching the desired condition you pulled him off of your mouth and standing up quickly you pushed him by his chest until he bumped the couch with the back of his legs and dropped down onto it. You straddled him but before lowering yourself on him he asked something for the first time during your studio invasion.

“Can I touch you?” his voice surprisingly insecure as his hands rested on your bare knees.

You looked him in the eye and just nodded, although for a quick moment you played with the thought of saying no just out of some sort of punishment.

His hands slithered up on your thighs; one reaching and grabbing your round butt, the other one slid between your legs to palm your pussy just to find out you have no panties on. A smirk appeared in the corner of his mouth but didn’t comment on the surprise, just stroked his fingers along your already wet lips making you even wetter as his fingertips circled your entrance. None of you saw what he was doing as the skirt part of your dress has covered both your lower half and his hands, and this just doubled your excitement feeling how skillful he is. By now he more or less knows your own body as well as you do.

Holding onto his shoulders you leaned your forehead against his as he expertly pushed two fingers inside you, starting fingering you slowly. His motions were sensual and you whined and writhed on his hand already regretting that you let him do this to you making you just more aroused, aching for feeling something bigger inside.

You felt yourself close to cum on his fingers and that reminded you why you are here in the first place. A part of you wanted to go on to chase that first orgasm, but another part of you wanted to fuel your anger that feeds upon your betrayed heart, even if you’re perfectly aware that it’s not Ashton’s fault, he just grabbed the opportunity your agreement provided for him.

Reaching down you got hold of his hand and without explaining yourself, slowly pushed it away while your other hand let go of his shoulder as you slightly rose on your knees to reach behind you and take his cock in your hand, pump it a few times and finally position him right under your entrance. As you slowly and carefully sat yourself back on him, the incomparable feeling of his shaft stretching you engulfed you making you throw your head back with a half-suffocated whine torn out of your throat. He slipped his hands under your dress to grab onto your butt and a low ‘Fuck’ left his mouth when he felt how deep he is inside you as you went all the way down to make him bottom out.

“The way you take me…” escaped his lips and you just bit on your lower lip as you weren’t exactly in a chatty mood, but his compliments and praises always appealed to you.

Your hands found their support on the back of his biceps as you started fucking him with a quick and harsh zest, grinding your hips on his for getting the most friction you can just have. You were bouncing up and down on his cock and he watched your clothed breasts precisely follow the intensity of your movements, your hard nipples darting out the fabric of the dress, sweat fallen down your spine. You could see in the way he looked at your heaving chest that he’s fighting the urge to touch your tits, to get them out of the cruel imprisonment of your dress.

However your own completion wasn’t priority in this current situation yet you got closer and closer to it and listening to Ash’s groans and the way he was taking breath, he was close too and his voice always added to your own pleasure, it could singlehandedly push you over that particular edge. As your moans got louder and more frequent, your arms wrapped around his neck, your temple pushed against his, and you gave yourself in to the feeling; his hands on your butt and his own moans in your ear encouraged you to let go. As your walls started to squeeze around his thick cock, your climax washed over you; closing your eyes, one of your hands slid down to the side of his neck as your lips brushed against his ear. In that moment his fingertips pushed into the soft flesh of your butt, his lips captured your earlobe, teeth slightly scratching the skin as he released his cum inside of you followed by a faint groan.

Your hips slowed down to a full stop and you two spent a few moments in silence to catch your breaths, foreheads touching and only your heavy breathing could be heard in the soundproof room. You rose just enough to pull him out and sat back on his lap.

“Now would you tell me what this was really about?” his index finger reached under your chin to gently tilt your head in order for your eyes to meet his gaze.

“Do you… erm... Are you seeing someone? I mean besides me” you don’t know what he could hear out of your voice but it sounded sad and ashamed even for you.

“No” came the surprised but firm and peremptory response immediately.

“Ash… I know I have absolutely no right…”

“No, I’m not lying to you. I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Then who was that girl you had breakfast with at the Breakfast House this morning?” you left a few seconds time for him to react but he was just staring at you like someone who had been caught, so you continued. “By the way, she’s beautiful, really. And I know I have absolutely no ground to even ask this from you since we agreed on no rules. But… Fuck it, it’s all the same now. A few weeks ago I started just realizing that I think of you more often. I’ve been out and saw something and my first thought was that ‘Ash would like this’. I tried to coerce these thoughts because you and I both hurt enough, but I had to admit, at least to myself, that I want you. I want more of you… not just the sex” you shyly played with the bottom of his t-shirt, but as you looked back up at him, you could see his lips slowly forming into a smile.

“Are you jealous?”

“Maybe I am, yes” your eyes poured out lightnings seeing that reckless and smug smile spreading on his face.

“You know, you’re not wrong. She’s really beautiful, indeed. She grew out to be a gorgeous woman,” his smile just grew bigger as he saw your puzzled expression. “But she’s my sister, Y/N.”

“Lauren Rose?”

“She’s here to visit some friends, and it turned out I could be grateful that she found a few hours in her strict schedule to meet his older brother at all” he chuckled.

“I’m an idiot” you leaned your forehead against his collarbone.

“No you’re not” he reached for your hand and intertwined your fingers. This is the very first time you two did this. And weirdly it feels incredibly intimate now. “Actually… I have no idea how much longer I could have waited to confess the same feelings to you… feelings I also carried for weeks now.”

“Why- why didn’t you say anything?” you asked in awe as your thumb drew soft circles on his hand.

“You seemed so persistent on the no relationship thing that I thought if I bring this up, I’ll lose you. And that was the last thing I wanted to risk…” hearing this confession your hand reached out to caress his face and you leaned in to kiss him gently. “I didn’t want to lose this… whatever we have. What do we have, Y/N?”

“Each other, I guess” you smile at him. “So… can we give this… us a chance?

“I’d like it very much. And you know what else I’d like? To take you out on a date. A real date.”

“I’d be very much into that. After changing into something drier. And cleaner…” hearing that he kisses into your neck smiling.

“Are you free tonight?” he grinned.

“I don’t know… I’ll ask my boyfriend. He’s a famous rockstar, you know…” you cupped his face in your hands and immersed in a gentle kiss that meant a new beginning for both of you.

#ashton irwin #ashton irwin x reader #5sos #ashton irwin fic #fic time #fic by me

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rennyforpresident · 4 years

Text

Renny’s BBSim: Second Chances Week 7: When It Rains, It Pours

Welcome back to Biiiiiiiiiig Brother!

@brentrobinson @cirie-sandra-michaela @flopbb-22 @flungevictee @fucklauryn @iantxrry @kaysarswhore @maxdoesbb @music-obsessednerd @pawn2393 @paymeincashnottears @phylisisley @rennyforpresident @swampassthing @wheremy--demons--hide

Jury: @theminionjcfucked

Previously, @theminionjcfucked was evicted over @iantxrry. @cirie-sandra-michaela, @fucklauryn, and @flopbb-22 were on the wrong side of the vote; was it strategy? Was it tomfoolery? Was it something more?

Have any of our alliances shifted in the house?

We’re still going strong! Who will @cirie-sandra-michaela choose to side with in the end? Will he have to make that decision this week? Let’s find out

This competition is TOUGH. Not only are these houseguests hanging from disco balls and being swung around in every direction, glitter bombs are going off every 10 minutes.

But on the bright side, Big Brother has paid for the rights to play ABBA’s Greatest Hits during this competition!

The people can’t take the heat! As soon as Waterloo comes on, @cirie-sandra-michaela drops. When Dancing Queen comes on, @paymeincashnottears and @swampassthing just CAN’t help but jump off the disco ball like Meryl Streep jumps off the dock during the musical number in Mamma Mia (2008)! @iantxrry falls shortly after that, and screams so loudly that it spooks @fucklauryn off her disco ball!

Gimme Gimme Gimme (A Man After Midnight) starts playing, and the speed of the disco balls picks up!

@flopbb-22 wanted to win so badly, but just couldn’t hold on.

The competition is STIFF, but this time, no one wants to make a deal. That’s bad news for @phylisisley, who gets knocked off just as the chorus of Name of the Game starts

The final two both look at each other, and know that neither will put the other up. @kaysarswhore: “Drop? I really need that letter.”

@pawn2393 makes a split decision....

@kaysarswhore! You are our first TWO TIME HOH of the season! You have secured your safety and earned the right to nominate two of your fellow houseguests for eviction.

@pawn2393 and @kaysarswhore are immediately in the storage room doing a celebration dance.

@kaysarswhore in the DR: “I am SO ready for this week! I can finally play again!”

At the nomination ceremony, @kaysarswhore decides to air it all out to the house.

@kaysarswhore: “I said when I won that I wasn’t going to be afraid to play this week. @fucklauryn, when I nominated you last, you survived! I want to find out if you can pull it off again. @phylisisley, you cannot be trusted. @iantxrry has been feeding me info for the past few weeks, and I know all about the dirty, underhanded game you’ve been playing. You shouldn’t be here, and I hope you leave this week. This ceremony is adjourned.”

@phylisisley immediately gets up after the meeting and gets into a screaming match with @kaysarswhore. This is the kind of shit the announcer would say “see the crazy fallout from the nomination ceremony, next time”. Plates are broken, tables are flipped, even the wall yeller outside the house is afraid.

@fucklauryn in the DR: “Well shit. It’s hard for me to feel bad after watching @kaysarswhore tear @phylisisley apart. She really went in.”

@phylisisley in the DR: “What @kaysarswhore doesn’t know is that I’ll get my revenge. There’s no way in hell I’m letting that bitch take me out. I mean, for fucks sake, there was a PLANE that flew over the house talking bad about her. When I stay and win HOH, it’s OVER.”

Clearly, tensions are running high in the house. That means that the veto is more important than ever

Will one of the nominees save themselves from the block? Will @flopbb-22 work with his bestie @kaysarswhore to keep the noms the same? Will @iantxrry secure her first veto win of the season and shake up the house? Will @paymeincashnottears finally get some screentime? Let’s find out

After the very first round, @paymeincashnottears buzzes in with the incorrect answer! She says “Nomination” instead of “Nominations”, and is eliminated from the competition

Everyone else manages to make it to the end of the competition, but @kaysarswhore and @flopbb-22 fail to score even a single point for themselves

After calculating all of the point totals, in third place with 3 points is....

@iantxrry. You have not won the power of veto. That means it comes down to our two nominees. The winner of this weeks veto is...

@phylisisley! You have won your second POV!

Immediately after winning, @phylisisley turns to @kaysarswhore and says “Well how about that? Looks like karma’s got it’s kiss for you, huh?”

Before she can grab the veto, @kaysarswhore grabs it from the pedestal and throws it into the pool. Eventually, it’s fished out and put around @phylisisley‘s neck.

The DRAMAAAAAA of it all!

At the veto ceremony, it’s clear that @phylisisley will use the veto on herself. But with her target off the block, who will @kaysarswhore put up in her place?

@kaysarswhore: “I really have no other people in this house that I want to see go. @paymeincashnottears, I don’t have a reason to put you up, but I also don’t have a reason to keep you safe. Because of that, I am nominating you.”

@paymeincashnottears in the DR:

Now that the nominees are locked, the houseguests just have to sit and wait for eviction night. While they wait for Thursday,

@swampassthing and @iantxrry bond over having recently survived the block. They realize the power structures in the house right now, and figure out that if they don’t have each other’s backs, they might as well kiss the money goodbye.

While these two bond downstairs, in the HOH room, @kaysarswhore and @flopbb-22 are bonding, too.

@kaysarswhore: “Can you believe my absolute shit show of an HOH? I mean I said I wanted to play the game this week, but this is insanity!”

@flopbb-22: “I know!! And you know who’s to blame?”

Both at the same time: “ @phylisisley!”

@flopbb-22: “You know........ there is something we could do.......... I’d be more than happy to do it for you............ let’s

FLIP

THAT

MATTRESS!”

While @phylisisley is laying on her bed, @flopbb-22 comes in a flips the mattress with her still on it. Normally, production would step in, but they wanna see how this one plays out. (Yeah we all know who Grodner’s favorite is this season)

The two argued for a while afterwards, but eventually things settled down.

The next morning, however, @flopbb-22 woke up devastated. She remembered the events of the night before, and felt so bad that she immediately woke everyone else up and called them to the living room.

@flopbb-22: “I just want to say, from the bottom of my heart, that my behavior in this house has been shameful. @phylisisley, I hope that there are no hard feelings, and I’m happy to talk privately after this. I promise I’ll stop making this game personal and start being a little more vulnerable with everyone. Love you guys <3″

Everyone could feel that @flopbb-22 was genuine; what reason does he have to lie?

That afternoon, in the backyard, for the SECOND time this season

@kaysarswhore gets dragged by America yet again. This time, the banner says

It’s a little hard to read, but the houseguests eventually make it out. @kaysarswhore spends the rest of the day in her HOH room being comforted by @flopbb-22 and @pawn2393.

Finally, it’s eviction night!

(ignore that it says celebrity sdffdkjlsj)

Julie: “Houseguests! I’ve been told you’ve been getting into some antics this week! I’d love to hear more!

@iantxrry, what’s been the best part about living in the BB house?”

@iantxrry: The game! I’ve loved this game my whole life, and getting to play it for a second time is a dream. It’s SO much fun”

Julie: “ @pawn2393, what has it been like being on slop this season?”

@pawn2393: “Awful! I honestly just swallow it without chewing; if I can’t taste it, it’s easier that way.”

Julie: “It sounds like you’re all having fun then! Now let’s ruin it with another vote to evict!”

@fucklauryn: “Round Three! I’ve done this before, and I have to say, I think this one may be my last. @paymeincashnottears is a wonderful person, and I could never say a bad thing about them. I genuinely hope you keep me here longer so I can help you all out, but I completely understand and there’s no hard feelings! Good luck to you all, and I look forward to being friends after this!”

@paymeincashnottears: “Hey guys! I know we’re halfway through now, but I still haven’t gotten into my groove yet! I wanna play this game, and I hope you’ll keep me to let me do that! Love you all!”

Julie: “Wonderful! Let’s vote.”

Of course @cirie-sandra-michaela wouldn’t vote out his own ally. But the rest of the first four votes all go to evicting @fucklauryn.

What? Two more votes to evict @paymeincashnottears? Could the pawn really be going home? It’s up to @swampassthing to break this tie.

Julie: “When I reveal the name of the evicted houseguest, they will have one minute to gather their belongings, say their goodbyes, and exit the Big Brother house.”

Julie: “ @fucklauryn, come on out!”

Julie: “ @fucklauryn, this was your third time up, were you ready to go?”

@fucklauryn: “I wouldn’t say I was ready, but I definitely knew. @paymeincashnottears wasn’t a threat, and for some reason everybody thought I was! When you get that label early, it’s just really hard to shake it off.”

Julie: “How do you think the remaining houseguests will play now that you’re gone?”

@fucklauryn: “Well, of course I’m rooting for my ride or die @cirie-sandra-michaela. But I can see @phylisisley making it far too! She showed how much fight she had in her during that veto comp this week, so it’ll be interesting to see what she does next!”

Julie: “It’s been lovely having you here, thank you so much for playing again.

We’re officially at the halfway point! The game only gets better from here on in. Until next time, from outside the Big Brother house, I’m Julie Chen. Goodnight.”

Okay I actually went nuts writing this this is insane dlfsdjfa;sk. I hope y’all forgive me for making you actually the messiest people on earth

#bb22 #bbsim #bbsim second chances

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surveys4ever · 3 years

Text

25.

Section 1 – Who were you?

Think back as far as you can. What is the first memory you have? I think meeting my (now) dad for the first time when he and my mom were dating. I was very upset because he was short and that’s not what dads were supposed to look like in my 3 year old eyes since my bio dad was super tall.

What is something you remember enjoying very much as a small child? Playing Barbies, watching Barney, Happy Meals, being with my grandma.

How old were you, when you made your very first friend? Probably preschool.

Are you still friends with this person today? Facebook friends, yeah. Real friends, no.

Was there a story somebody read or told you that has stuck with you? No one ever read to me after I learned to read for myself so one day I was sick and I came home and curled up with my mom on the couch and asked her to read me a Little Mermaid book I had and she did, even though I had to get up to go shit myself halfway through and it meant a lot to me at the time.

What is something you get an immense feeling of nostalgia from? Hannah Montana for some reason. It was my favorite show and we didn’t get the Disney channel so whenever we went to a hotel, nobody could tell me fuckin NOTHING because we were watching Hannah Montana whether they liked it or not.

As a child, were you a sore loser or a sore winner? I was the only child for 8 years and then the oldest after that so I never lost at anything and now when I do, I feel like I'm the biggest piece of shit loser there’s ever been. So that’s fun.

Did you go through the "naked phase"? I learned that you didn’t have to sleep in pajamas and you could just sleep naked so I did it for a while but then realized that I much preferred pajamas.

Which television shows do you watch the most as a child? I loved TV so basically all of the 90′s/early 2000′s shows there were.

Did you play with siblings, neighbourhood kids or by yourself? Either with neighborhood/school kids or by myself. I didn’t ever really have siblings who weren’t my kids, if that makes sense.

Is there something you really miss from your childhood today? I miss back when everything was simple.

Section 2 – Likes and interests

Would you ever like to try competitive pinball playing? Ummm, no.

Do you knit, crochet or cross stitch? I’m trying to teach myself to crochet.

Have you ever, or would you like to attend a gaming or comic convention? No thx.

What's your opinion on online multiplayer games? I really liked Among Us for a while there but I don’t really enjoy how rude everyone is on online games.

Do you like to go cycling? If so, where? Uh no.

Have you ever tried woodturning? If not, would you like to? Never tried it, don’t really have any desire to, but it can be relaxing to watch!

Do you enjoy drawing? If so, what do you usually draw? I do! I usually draw graphics for YouTube videos or doodle over Instagram photos, draw things to put on shirts with my Cricut, etc. I use my iPad for so many things.

Have you ever attended a painting class? If so, what did you create? I haven’t but I would like to!

How about a creative writing course? If so, did you get any feedback? I took Creative Writing literally every year it was offered in high school and I always got awards for having the top marks in the class.

What is your favourite form of exercise? No thank you.

Section 3 – People

Who is the most important person in your life (besides yourself)? My husband.

Do people generally approach you easily? I think so!

Do you get along with people well? If not, what's the problem? Yeah! I’m pretty friendly and easy going.

Do you enjoy being in crowds or do you prefer your own company? I would much prefer my own company than crowds.

Which one of your friends have you known the longest? I still talk to the girl I was best friends with in the 6th grade on occasion so like 17-18 years?

Do you find it easy to make friends now? If not, what makes it difficult? As an adult who works from home, making friends is hard as fuck.

What is something about people that annoys you? Something I've noticed in recent years is just how entitled and greedy everyone is. Everybody wants something from you or for your skills to benefit them without them putting in any work or paying you for your time. It’s just gross.

What is something about people that you really like? We have really, really harsh winters and if you ever find yourself in the ditch for whatever reason, there will be a lineup of cars stopped behind you to help you push it out or let you chill in their car while you wait for a tow truck. On the really bad blizzard days, there are groups of men in big trucks that literally L I V E to go around and help pull people’s cars out of the ditch. It’s the only time I feel like there’s actually a sense of community around here.

If you live alone, what would be your criteria for a roommate? I honestly would never have a roommate because they could either be your friend or a stranger and living with friends is a good way to ruin a friendship if your living styles aren’t similar and living with a stranger just sounds like a nightmare.

How about criteria for a spouse, if you're single? I am married but my criteria was honestly that I just wanted him to be kind and funny and I got that tenfold with my husband.

In general, what's your attitude towards people? I can’t stand to be around grumpy people. If all you do is gripe and complain about literally everything, I’m out. No thank you. Why is your hobby being angry? Take up knitting or something for christ’s sake.

Section 4 – Habits

What is something you do every day without fail? Baby talk the dog and snuggle with Beebs.

What is your typical breakfast? I’m a leftovers for breakfast kinda gal but lately I’ve been having a bagel and watermelon.

Which article of clothing do you like to wear the most? I loooove me a good baggy T-shirt and booty shorts.

Is there a TV show you watch habitually? We’re currently watching Unhhhh while we eat dinner every night, haha!

Where do you usually spend most of your day? I really only sit in 4 places--bed, the couch, my makeup/work desk, or my sewing desk. Depends on the day which one I’m at.

Is there a product that you do not want to run out of? Moisturizer. I’m a dry son of a bitch.

What is your preferred mode of transport? Car!

Do you usually have something playing in the background when you're home? Nah. I’m in silence a lot of the time.

Where do you usually get your groceries? Walmart for the bulk of it, a local grocery store for the specialty items, and Target if we ever run out of something midweek because I cannot handle Walmart more than once a week.

How often do you go to your local park? Like once or twice a month in the summer!

Which of your hobbies do you indulge in most often? Sewing and Sims currently!

Section 5 – Favourites and dislikes

What is your favourite fruit? Watermelon!

How about your favourite berry? Strawberries are the only berry I like.

Which food do you highly dislike? Fish. It’s all disgusting.

What is your favourite song, and why? I hate this question. Who can pick one definitive favorite song out of the bajillions of songs that have been written??

What is a movie you cannot stand? Anything with Seth Rogen in it, any movie that's got a 3+ after it (looking @ you, Fast & Furious), and all the fuckin’ superhero movies that have the same ‘ah yes, this undefeatable bad guy that we have absolutely no chance against and will undoubtedly kill us all--but we’re going to pull through at the last second with the power of friendship!’ plot line.

Which trait in a person do you find most appealing? I don’t know how to describe it--certain people just have that spark and you can always tell right away if they’ve got it or not and those are my favorite kind of people.

Which trait puts you instantly off? If they’re religious it’s an instant no from me, dog.

Who is an actor/actress who you dislike so much you can't watch them? I really, really dislike Tom Holland. I honestly think he’s a terrible actor.

What colour are your favourite shoes? White!

What is a smell that disgusts you to no end? B.O., on me or others. I just can’t deal with it.

Which door handle/door knob do you like the most in your home? They’re all the same.

Section 6 – Culture

What is something very typical to the culture of your home country? Apple pie and baseball are the only things coming to mind atm.

Do you enjoy art? If so, which form of art is the most enjoyable? I do! But I prefer art that you can look at and know the artist is incredibly gifted and/or has put in a ton of time and effort to master their skills. None of that million dollar paint smear on a canvas shit.

What is something about another country's culture you don't understand? I feel like other cultures take their family and their family’s approval way too seriously. That might be rich coming from someone who doesn’t have a very good relationship with their family but I just don’t understand what the point of making yourself miserable to make your family happy is.

Do you ever attend the theater? If so, which play did you see last? Last thing I saw in a theater was Shangela perform a drag show, haha!

How about the opera or the ballet? Nope.

Which dance troupe do you enjoy, if any? ...they still do that?

Do you attend concerts or gigs? If so, which band did you see last? Not as much as I’d like to as no one good really comes here very often. Last band we saw was X Ambassadors and Paramore!

Are you interested in foreign food? I’m not uninterested but I’m not super interested either.

If so, which country's cuisine do you enjoy the most? Chinese...albiet probably a very Americanized version of Chinese.

Do you enjoy stand-up comedy? If so, who is your favourite comic? I doooo! Bo Burnham and Drew Lynch are my favorites.

Do you contribute to culture in some way? If so, how? I try to? I’m an influencer so I definitely have a platform of a couple hundred thousand people. Not sure what exactly I contribute tho.

Section 7 – Charity

Do you volunteer your time to anything charitable? If so, what? Newp.

Do you donate money to any charities? If so, which ones? No. I don’t trust a lot of charities, to be quite honest. A lot of them are very shady and I’d rather donate money directly to someone who needed it rather than it getting tied up in a charity where it might never actually see the people they claim to be helping.

If you have pets, are any of them rescues from shelters? We adopted our dog from one of my husband’s coworkers but she probably would have gone to the shelter if we didn’t take her.

Do you donate your old clothes, linen etc. to charitable organizations? Yes! We almost always have a bag of donations in our trunk that we always forget to take to the thrift store when we go.

If someone you know is in need, is it in your nature to offer help? If I can, yes!

Have you ever donated Christmas presents to children of poor families? We used to do that when I was a kid.

Have you ever had to rely on other people's charity? One Christmas when I was really young I remember my parents signed up for a sponsorship through the Salvation Army where a family adopted us and bought us Christmas presents and Christmas dinner or whatever.

How do you feel about donating to charities endorsed by celebrities? I would never donate to a charity simply because it was sponsored by a celebrity but I guess its the easiest way for a charity to get the word out that they need donations.

Is there a charity you absolutely never ever will not trust? PETA, Salvation Army, Goodwill, and that breast cancer one with the horrible CEO.

Have you ever donated to a cause that had a person going door to door? No. I extra wouldn’t if someone came knocking on my door asking for money.

In general, what is your opinion on charity? I already did my rant about them, haha.

Section 8 – Entertainment

Which was the very first video game you remember playing? Ocarina of Time I believe!

Which was the very first film you remember watching? That I don’t remember. Maybe that Barney movie with the magic egg?

What is your go-to form of entertainment? TikTok usually.

Do you have a large collection of DVDs/Blu-Rays? Nah. We have a drawer but we usually stream everything.

How about music albums? Beebs collects vinyls!

Do you prefer to have your music on vinyls, tapes, CDs or digital? I prefer digital and Beebs likes vinyl.

When and where do you like to entertain yourself usually? Either the bed or the couch.

Do you ever binge watch shows? If so, what are you binging now? Usually! I’m sadly in between shows rn.

What kinds of books do you like to read, if any? I honestly don’t read anymore.

Is there a book series you're currently collecting? ..

Is entertainment something you prefer to enjoy alone or with someone else? I have my shows and then we have shows we watch together. So there’s a time and place for both!

Section 9 – Internet

Do you always have access to the Internet, wherever you go? If not, why? Yup!

Which website do you frequent the most? Website website? Google. App website? Instagram or TikTok.

Which search engine do you prefer and trust the most? Googs.

What do you use the Internet the most for? Social media or entertainment.

Do you judge people who have their phones out all the time? If so, why? Random people? None of my business. But if we’re spending time together and I’m trying to have a conversation with you and you're not paying attention to me because your nose is glued to your phone, I’m gonna be pissed.

If your connection goes down, what do you do? Go do something that’s not on the internet?

Is there something you wish you could do online that isn't possible yet? I still wish you could smell things through the internet.

Do you remember the first time you used the Internet? When was it? Yes! I believe the 2nd/3rd grade?

What was a website you used to frequent that doesn't exist anymore? I loved the Disney website with all the games.

Do/Did you ever have your own website? That was the thiiiing back in the day.

Isn't it great how much knowledge and info we have at our fingertips? It’s great but also overwhelming.

Section 10 – And finally...

What is something you consider to be highly controversial? Politics, apparently.

What kinds of jokes do you like the best? I love a good pun.

Is there a person who makes you laugh effortlessly? Oh definitely.

Which part of your body do you like the least? My eyes.

What's something random, out of context you remember from your past? I don’t do well with really vague questions.

Do you wear shoes indoors? No, I’m not a heathen.

What's the silliest thing you've worn on your body in public? I don’t think I usually wear silly things.

What's the most important thing in your life right now? Just spending time with my fam. Trying to get over this anxiety.

What is the most distant point on the planet that you've been from home? Florida.

Do you enjoy trivia games? If so, which one's your favourite? We love some Trivial Pursuit in this house!

Are you more logical or emotional? My emotions take over and then my logic brings it back in. Equal parts, baby.

#survey

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helbramstrauma-main · 4 years

Text

Beach Days

Masterlist

Albert DaSilva x Reader

Modern Era: How many romantic cliches can I fit into a one-shot. A lot, but I am still proud of it.

Word Count 2636

Sophomore year is coming to a quick close. Classes are wrapping up and the failing air conditioner is becoming more of a problem. Although the end of a school year is always bittersweet, one of the best parts is the summer trip. Specifically planning it, last year Katharine's family let us use their lake house for two weeks. However this year we have all decided to pitch in a little more to rent a house on the beach.

We found an Airbnb less than a mile away from the beaches of Rehoboth. There was a small argument between Jack and Race on which beach to go to, but all of the rentals in Myrtle Beach are out of our price range. Deep down we all know it doesn't matter where we go, good times will always follow.

Today at lunch we are making sleeping arrangements. Davey is big on maps, lists, and everything organized- without him, we would be lost. The bell rings signaling that lunch is starting.

"Y/n, stay after," my teacher says. Great, I am kind of in a hurry to get somewhere. I answer his question only half listening, and practically bolt out of his room. The hallways are not empty but are filled with extremely slow walkers, making me get to my destination even slower. It will be fine, I'm sure they won't start without me.

Once I made it to the lunch table I see Davey standing on his chair holding a book above Race, but I decide not to question it and instead take my spot next to Kathrine and Albert. Albert and I were practically instant friends, he is a year advance than me but were still in the same History my Freshman year. He helped me work out the winding halls if the schools, and we have been inseparable ever since. Recently though I have been trying to put a wall in-between us. It isn't that I don't like Albert, I just like him too much. Our relationship is completely platonic and I want to keep it that way, I cannot risk our friendship with my feelings. Although putting a wall between us will hurt our friendship temporarily it is better than ruining it completely with my one-sided feelings.

Race seemed to of lost interest in Davey's book as he takes his seat across from Albert. Jojo sits down in front of me and the rest of the boys eventually file in from the lunch line. I end up packing snacks throughout the day so lunch is more of a social period to me, rather than anything else.

Davey opens the book Race was trying to take to reveal a list of all of our names and how many people can fit in each room. Without dispute Jack and Kathrine claim the master bedroom, leaving us with five bedrooms and a pullout couch. Finch takes the couch because he doesn't want to wake anyone with his snoring. Davey claims the room with the two twins for him and Les. Crutchie takes the single room with another couch that Specs takes. Elmer, Romeo, and Mush claim the bunk beds with a single. Jojo and Race argue over who will get the top bunk in the bunk only room, while Spot claims he wants to bring a cot, so he "doesn't have to deal with anybody". All of this madness flies by leaving only one room left, the double. Albert and I are the only people without a bed, and people expected us to room together anyway. Therefore we were not claimed by any other group. I am not keen on having the smallest of the rooms though, makes me wonder how they fit two beds. At the same time, I am excited to be sharing with Albert even though I shouldn't be. I need to distance myself from him, but maybe being in close quarters with him will make me realize how unbearable he truly is.

A few weeks go by and eventually it is time for me to pack. Now is the time if I am going to be self-conscious about this or not. After about an hour of debating if I should go crop top or sweater, I decided on crop top because if I don't know I never will. Being a master procrastinator I manage to pack everything in under two hours. However, being paranoid I check my luggage every five minutes to make sure I remembered everything.

The next mourning I am anxiously waiting with my suitcase when I see Race's 2001 Saturn approach my driveway. He honks his horn probably waking up my neighbors so I run to the car not wanting to be confronted.

Only Race, Albert, and I were in the car as our luggage took up the rest of the space. To maximize space I sat on the passenger side seat in the back so the other seats could be collapsed. With Race's horrific driving skills it was relatively common for a suitcase to fall on me during the ride. Luckily the ride was only a little over three and a half hours so I didn't have to hear all of Race, and Albert's bickering for too long. Being in the backseat bars you from any conversation happening in the front seat, I didn't mind me time though. I will have plenty of time to talk to them once we arrive.

Although the ride wasn't long that didn't stop Albert form incrementally leaning his seat back more and more. At some point, I couldn't move my legs and I was practically squished against the door and the suitcases. Even though my situation was less than ideal, I couldn't help but blush at the situation. I rested my arms on either side of his seat, as they have nowhere else to go, and he arches his back just to look at me. This silent exchange is so intimate I could have sworn I saw him blush too. The moment is taken away prematurely due to Race's atrocious ability to drive. He swerves off of the highway onto the exit causing a suitcase to fall and crush me. All I could hear was the sound of Albert's laugh echo throughout the car.

I eventually get the fallen suitcase off of me and before I know it, we have arrived. Even though Race ignored the speed limit the whole way there we were still the last people to arrive. I grab my luggage and begin to explore the house with Davey as my tour guide. Once I struggle to bring my suitcase upstairs we eventually make it to the floor where my bedroom is, Davey and Les are the only other room on our floor, along with our shared bathroom. On the other side of the banister is the master with Jack and Kathrine. I open the door to reveal a small room with a dresser at the end of the bed. The room is barely wide enough to fit the mattress so you have to climb over the end of it to get in. I turn around expecting a similar situation but there is only a wall with a mirror.

What do you mean there is only one bed? It was listed as a double room on the website.

"Davey, where is the other bed? Isn't this the double room" I ask him, thinking he played a part in one of Romeo or Mush's pranks.

Davey laughs for a bit before answering me, "what do you think a double room is? It has a double mattress". Albert comes up the stairs carrying his suitcase followed by Jack. Davey and Jack make an awkward exit leaving Albert and me to unpack. We both laugh off the bed thing as a funny miscommunication but I couldn't help the blush on my face. A similar redness appears on Albert's face as we discuss the matter of the bed. He can't be sunburnt already?

Our room is incredibly small making it hard for Albert and me to maneuver around each other. Once I unpack all of my belongings, it is impossible to keep my suitcase in here as it takes up too much space, I throw my self onto the bed. Being able to stretch out a little more than I could in the car is nice. My space was soon halved as Albert did the same thing I did. His left side overlapping my own as we both stretch out. After a few minutes of a conversation, Specs opens the door to announce we are leaving for the beach in about an hour. I sigh and get up to retrieve my swimsuit. Looking at the options I brought I decide on some white high waisted bikini bottoms with a sunflower print top over a baby blue backdrop. It tied in the back and around the neck, so it was secure enough, to take Instagram photos in, but not much more. Even though the structural integrity of it was shaky at best, it still made me feel confident. Albert opts to change in the bathroom, so he could give me my privacy.

After I get my number on I am shamelessly taking photos in the full-length mirror, when I hear a knock at the door. I stop what I am doing to open the door to see Albert. He had to do a double-take before coming in. Usually, I would be disgusted but I let it slide because it gives me a little more confidence. Knowing that Albert thinks I look good is always an ego boost. He tells me that some of the boys are waiting downstairs and to go there when I am done. He decides to wait for me as I grab a hair tie and my black crochet cover-up. I can see him checking me out due to the reflection in the mirror, and I feel the heat rise to my cheeks. Albert is being a creepy but the attention is nice, especially since deep down, I know I want him to see me the way he is. I want to pursue a relationship with Albert, but the risk of losing his friendships keeps me from trying. However, that may change this trip if I keep seeing him look at me like he is right now.

Once we make our way downstairs I immediately spot Kathrine and stand by her, being the only two girls in the group have made us close. Therefore, I am about to tell her about all of my feelings towards Albert and ask for advice. Frankly, I would be lost without her, she gives the best advice, don't tell Davey I said that though. One the short walk to the beach Kathrine and I walk behind everybody else, so I can catch her up. Once I tell her my feelings she immediately lights up like she knows something. When I point it out though she plays dumb and doesn't give any details. Her advice is to simply go for it, and it will work itself out.

To be honest I don't think now is the right time to say I like him. For starters, I am terrified of rejection and on top of that, we are not only sharing a room but a bed as well. If he doesn't reciprocate my feelings it would make out sleeping predicament more uncomfortable than it already is. That being said, Kathrine seems extremely confident that Albert shares the same feelings.

Once we get to the beach I lay out my towel and take out my sun lotion. One time Race lit an aerosol one on fire and we have a strict no-spray rule now. Les is already building a sandcastle with Davey and Finch, while Romeo is desperately hitting on the passing girls. One day he is going to get punched, and he frankly deserves it. Specs and Crutchie are conversing with the local dogs while everyone else is either in the ocean or basking in the sunlight. I fall into the category of desperately looking for my sun hat which I know I forgot.

While I am leaning over in my beach back I feel an arm pull me off the ground. My eyes are closed out of shock but the laugh no debatably belongs to Albert. I try to squirm out of his grip but he is rapidly approaching the ocean and I don't have enough time to escape. After I realize this, I switch my strategy to comprise, begging for him to not get my hair wet. Once he is about waist-deep in the water I can tell that my pleads were not granted as his grip loosens around me. The cold water hits me as I am briefly submerged. My top withstood the fall which is a miracle but when I come up out of the water, I am looking for one thing, revenge.

I kick-off of the ground and splashing out of the water and latch onto his back. I know I can't pick him up so my only option is to bring him down. My arms latch onto his shoulders and he is thrashing about like a bull. Once he shook me off I quickly grab onto his torso bringing him with me. I was not thinking about collateral damage because he, in fact, fell on top of me.

After a while at the beach the sun begins to set the water becomes unbearably cold. The rest of the day is uneventful as people just want to go to bed after a long day of traveling. I hope in the shower to wash my hair, but if I make it quick as all of the hot water was gone. When I re-enter my room Albert is already laying on the bed checking his phone. He appears to type something before plugging it in beside mine, at the end of the bed. I crawl into bed but I don't go under the covers just yet. I throw my hair into a bun so it is easier to comb in the morning and then attempted to wiggle my way under the sheets. Our legs touch briefly before turning into a ball facing him. This causes Albert to laugh and do the same. Eventually, we become comfortable with the proximity and allow for our legs to touch.

A conversation sparks between the two of us and I can't keep track of time. The room is pitch black but I am still able to see the outline of Albert's face, we are incredibly close to one another.

"Seeing you today made me realize something," Albert says. This piques my interest and I prop myself up on my hands as he continues. "I can't pretend to be your friend anymore". My heart breaks into a million pieces, he isn't even my friend. I don't stop the tear the falls down my face, but I hold back the waterfall attempt to come out. "what I mean is, I want more. I can't pretend to just me your friend when I won't do much more. When I want to hold you all the time and call you pet names. I want that" Albert says all at once, noticing the shift in my mood. Kathrine was right, he would reciprocate my feelings! The tears threatening to come out retreat back as I am overcome with an overwhelming amount of joy.

All I manage to say in my joyous frenzie is, "then hold me".

Without hesitation, I feel out bodies press up against each other as our legs tangle. I instinctively nuzzle my head into the crook of his neck. I could get used to sleeping like this, I can get used to Albert.

#newsies #newsies broadway #newsies x reader #albert dasilva #albert newsies #newsies albert #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #sky flaherty #newsie #romanticfanfic #newsies fanfiction #newsie fanfiction #albert dasilva x reader #albert x reader

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alltheworldsinmyhead · 4 years

Photo

HEART DON’T FAIL ME NOW

gendry + arya + anastasia au // ao3

Gendrya Appreciation Week, Day 2: AU

Girl gets a family.

Boy gets rich

And fairytale gets a spin

How can we fail with everything to win?

Conman and princess get their wish

Fairytale comes true

Funny, one small part I never knew

With everything to win

The only thing I lose is

You.

- Everything to Win, Anastasia The Musical

*****

Never, in his twenty-seven years of life and twenty-one of making a living as a thief, a swindler and a trickster on the streets of Leningrad, Gendry Waters had a worse job than teaching one infuriatingly stubborn orphan girl how to be a princess.

If only Arry did not look like the absolute older mirror copy of Princess Arya Stark, he would’ve long ago vetoed the whole idea and, with or without Davos approval, left the girl somewhere near the closest bar so she could find a job better suited for her fiery temper and foul mouth. But, to his eternal despair, she is every bit as pale-skinned, grey-eyed and dark-haired like The Lost Princess and the fact that she doesn’t seem to remember a single thing from childhood only makes the whole con easier.

She is also desperate to find out anything about her past and willing to believe in the story they made up about her with a heart-wrenching determination.

Truth to be told, Gendry can understand that. He too, comes from nothing. Maybe if he was not sure of that, if he didn’t remember his mother’s clients kicking him for laughs as if he was a street rat, he would also entertain the thought of having a loving family once. But he does remember and he has no doubt at all that he is a rat indeed. A clever, Russian rat, but a rat still.

See, that is the whole problem about Arry – it is all about this idea of a loving family for her. She doesn’t care if they were Starks or simple factory workers. She just needs to belong somewhere, it is clear as a day.

And that makes it impossible for Gendry to hate her, even when she is bickering with him all days long and getting on his last nerve every time she opens her mouth.

Which means all the damn time.

***

He found her in Winter Palace; a small figure curled on the damaged wood of the ballroom’s floor, tracing the ruined tapestry depicting the former royal family with her fingertips.

In the cold winter light getting through the shattered windows, she looked like something straight out of a dream. Dressed in mismatched, baggy clothes to keep warm and with an uneven cut hair underneath man’s hat, she might have been just another poor girl, whoring herself to keep starvation at bay. She was probably just looking for shelter from the cold.

No need to pay attention to her at all, I should just leave her be and look through the second floor like I planned to –

Her gasp could be heard even across the room when Gendry stepped on the particularly squeaky floorboard.

She jumped to her feet immediately, quick as a flash.

‘’Don’t be afraid.’’ He said, but the cold shock spread through his body, making him freeze in place.

Because the girl was standing tall in front of the tapestry and the stray sunlight framed her, caressed her features so lovingly – her cheekbones and her chin, her eyes, and her brow – that something sweet and long gone resurfaced suddenly in his memory. Buried underneath the years-long past like a smell of his mother’s hair and the screams of people butchered on the streets.

On the wall behind her, there was a damaged depiction of a small girl in silver furs, Dark-haired, long-faced, gray-eyed.

And she was staring at him silently. Dark-haired, long-faced.

Fire burning in her grey eyes.

***

‘’ One more time. You learned how to ride horses at three.’’

‘’And my father got me my own when I was six.’’

‘’Correct. The horse’s name was –‘’

‘’Nymeria.’’

‘’I don’t believe we told her that, did we?’’

***

‘’Robb. Sansa. Bran. Rickon. Robb. Sansa. Bran. Rickon. It doesn’t seem right.’’ She whines, wriggling in her seat.

The train slowly rolls through snowy hills of Poland towards France and Gendry wants to do nothing else but savor the triumph of getting out of godforsaken Russia – oh, excuse him, Soviet Union – but he could not do that with Arry’s constant chirping. Sometimes, he wonders if the perspective of Princess Sansa offering him the girl’s weight in gold is a worthy reward for all his trouble. She’s a small thing, after all.

With a pained groan, he covers his eyes with his arm.

‘’Would you shut up for a second?’’

He can hear Davos’ warning huff and then Arry’s voice, dripping with honey.

‘’Gendry, can I ask you something?’’

He wants to say no, but he has pushed his luck enough already. You need to control your temper, my boy, Davos said. We need to keep her happy.

‘’Yes?’’

‘’Do you truly believe I’m a princess?’’

No.

He drops his arm and nods his head slowly. Arry sits with her back straight as a rod and her chin up, the way they taught her. Gendry cannot help but think that this posture suits her.

‘’Yes, I do.’’

She bites on her lip slightly and then one of her eyebrows slowly raises up in a perfect arch.

‘’Well, is it a way to speak to a princess then?’’ she says coolly, dignified, and Davos doesn’t manage to reach for his tissue fast enough to mask his laughter under fake coughing.

Somehow, it’s hard to scowl at her after that.

***

‘’What’s so incorrect about that?’’ he asks her later, in the dead of the night, when only Davos’ snoring interrupts the silence in their car.

‘’Huh?’’

‘’No, huh. Pardon.’’

‘’Fine. Pardon?’’

‘’When you were repeating- ‘’ Princess Arya’s ‘’-your siblings’ names. You said that there’s something incorrect about them.’’

‘’Oh, that.’’ She stays silent for a moment and he turns his head slightly to glance at her. In the darkness he can only see the outline of her body, its hills and valleys under the blanket. He can paint the rest in his mind; Arry in a white nightdress, her feet bare and hair loose. Warm and pink.

He shivers slightly and pulls his own blanket higher under his chin.

‘’I just think there is something missing. Or rather someone. There should be one more person, before Robb.’’

Gendry’s heart loses its rhythm in his chest.

‘’Have you read about this person somewhere?’’ he asks cautiously, but he somehow already know what her answer will be.

‘’No. All the books you gave me name five royal children. Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran, Rickon.’’

He’s glad for the darkness, cause just as it shields her from him, it also shields him from her. So she cannot see how he’s staring at the ceiling, internal battle tearing him apart.

‘’There was.. there was one more Stark child.’’

She sits up so abruptly that she bumps her head against the top bunk of her bed and groans.

‘’What? If so, why didn’t you-‘’

‘’His name was Jon. He was King Ned’s bastard son, that’s why he’s not in the books. Not worth mentioning.’’ Gendry’s voice drops to a whisper. ‘’He was also not very popular at the court. There is not much to know about him, anyway. They sent him to the military before the Revolution and he died at war.’’

Gendry can hear her sharp inhale. He doesn’t dare to look in her direction.

‘’Well, it was stupid of you not to mention him anyway. What if Princess Sansa asked me about her – about our forth brother and I wouldn’t know what she’s talking about?’’

Gendry knows Arry is right. He doesn’t know himself why he told Davos not to inform her about the existence of the Bastard Prince.

(Only, it’s a complete lie, because he does know. Because Princess Arya was rumored to have a lot of affection for Jon, going as far as calling him her favorite brother. Out of all her siblings, he would be probably the most difficult for her to forget. Which meant- which could mean that-)

‘’Jon.’’ She flops back on the mattress. ‘’Jon. Robb. Sansa. Bran. Rickon.’’

Gendry remains silent, hands clenched into fists.

‘’Yes.’’ She sighs sleepily against her pillow. ‘’Yes, now it sounds right.’’

***

He is sure he has suffered through the worst of it; through history and etiquette lessons, through her terrible table manners and sailor’s mouth, through getting out of Russia and getting to Paris.

He thinks that he and Davos actually managed to transform dirty orphan Arry into a well-educated, bright and charming Princess Arya, or at least, a very good imitation of her. She doesn’t keep her elbows on the table anymore, can recite the whole family tree of the Starks three centuries back and is an excellent cyvasse player.

And he… enjoys her company. Somehow.

So the dancing lesson takes him by a complete surprise.

‘’Come on, lad, pull her closer! I could’ve fit another couple in-between you.’’ Davos barks and he sounds far too gleeful for Gendry’s taste. ‘’Her Majesty is doing splendidly. Maybe she should be the one instructing you, huh?’’

Arry laughs at that, gracefully spinning underneath Gendry’s arm. Her blue dress swirls around her bare calves when she turns.

It’s really pretty. It looked good on the hanger in the shop when he was picking it out, but now that she’s wearing it – now that she’s wearing it, it has completely transformed into something truly beautiful.

‘’One, two, three. One, two, three.’’ Davos counts, but it sounds distant somehow.

All Gendry can really hear is his own heartbeat and the slide of silk against her skin; all he can really feel is the smell of her hair and her perfume, light and fresh. Where did she get it?

Left and right and backward and forward, they waltz to the music from a borrowed gramophone in their hotel room. Arry avoids looking down at her feet by staring right into his eyes as instructed, and it somehow makes him feel both hot and cold, uncomfortable and hungry.

After two rounds, they no longer step on each other’s feet and simply go through the motions, silently moving around each other. Closer. And closer.

She’s so confident now, no longer skittish like a deer. There is not a single ounce of shyness on her face. Only curiosity… curiosity and a dash of awe.

One, two, three, one, two, three, left and right and backward and forward and spin.

His fingers itch to caress her blushed cheeks, to brush stray strands of hair from her forehead.

One, two, three, one, two, three, left and right and backward and forward and spin.

His hand fits in the dip of her waist perfectly.

This smell… light and fresh. Nothing with flowers. More like a wind – like pines, like snow –

There is no snow in Paris, it’s ridiculous, pull yourself together Gendry, for fuck’s sake

‘’I think Davos went to sleep.’’ Arya whispers and Gendry abruptly stops moving, making her lose her balance and bump against his chest, their legs tangling together.

He glances at the empty armchair above her head. You old fox

‘’Yeah. It’s – it’s probably late. I think we practiced enough.’’ He lets out through clenched teeth, looking down at her still in the circle of his arms.

Arry bites on her lip and there’s this overwhelming desire in Gendry, wild and dazzling, to just reach out and pull it from in-between her teeth, to just press his mouth to her instead, to make her moan and gasp the way she sometimes does in her sleep and I am forced to listen and do nothing, nothing at all, cause this is just a con, and she is just a girl, and none of this is even real.

‘’Goodnight, Your Majesty.’’ He drops her hands and leaves, leaves as fast as he can.

***

‘’You’re playing a dangerous game, lad.’’

‘’I don’t know what you mean.’’

‘’Oh, young hearts. They want what they want, truly.’’

‘’Fuck off and let me sleep, won’t you?’’

***

Gendry finds her on a bridge next to the hotel. She’s staring at the Seine lazily passing down below, humming to herself this strange lullaby, as she always seems to when she’s feeling uncertain.

Far away, long ago, burning dim as an ember

‘’Stressed?‘’ he asks, softly, so as not to startle her.

But maybe she knows his steps just as well as he knows hers by now, because, when she turns around to face him, she doesn’t look surprised at all.

It fits her, all of this. The beautiful dresses they obtained through Countess Shireen. Hair bows and pearls. Fine silk stockings.

Her hair reaches past shoulder blades now, curling at the ends a bit. Even when they are messed by a wind, she’s still every inch an image of a princess. Every inch of her perfect and enchanting.

‘’A bit. ‘’ Arry admits. ‘’Tomorrow, I might get everything I’ve ever wanted. But I can also find out that this-‘’ she gestures down at the pink skirt of her gown and her shiny shoes. ‘’-is just a lie. That I’m a lie. I can break this woman’s heart.’’

Gendry takes a few steps to stand next to her, leaning on the railing by her side.

‘’I just wish I could feel like Princess Arya. She’s still somehow a foreign person to me.’’ She raises her eyes to the outline of the Eiffel Tower at the horizon, harsh black lines against sky bleeding with a setting sun.

And the resolve that Gendry kept inside his heart for fifteen long years breaks.

‘’I saw her, once. When I was twelve.’’

Arry whips her head towards him, mouth opened in shock, but Gendry’s firmly staring down at the dark river, lost in the memories.

‘’There was a parade in Saint Petersburg. It was hot, especially in a crowd – I think it must’ve been June or July. Royal family rode in a carriage, surrounded by guards, but I was tall for my age, and quick; I ran along, hoping for a glimpse of them. There were rumors that they wear clothes made of gold.’’ He chuckles quietly. ‘’And then there was some commotion on the street, so the carriage stopped. And I saw her.’’

Her, not you. His hands grip railing tighter, but Arry doesn’t seem to notice.

‘’How did she look like?’’ she asks, her voice shaking like a leaf on a wind.

‘’She was wriggling in her seat like a worm. I think Princess Sansa was scolding her, but she didn’t seem to listen. She kept on waving to the people and, for just a second, our eyes met.’’

He remembers it so well. Ever since he Arry appeared in his life, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about that day, how it made him feel everything at once; how such an insignificant thing turned his world upside down.

This image of a little princess, so joyful and so vibrant, has kept him warm through many long nights. And the thought that such a bright light was snuffed out in a bloody basement so easily, made him the person he is now. There is nothing beautiful in this world, not a single thing he can protect or preserve. Nothing.

Or, so he thought. Until another pair of gleaming eyes gazed into his.

‘’She had – she had such beautiful eyes. Such happy eyes. I had never seen eyes like that before.’’

The silence falls between them for a moment, before Arry inhales deeply.

‘’A parade in June.’’ She says. ‘’In Saint Petersburg.’’

‘’That’s right.’’

‘’Crowded streets. ‘’ she closes her eyes. ‘’It was hot, not a cloud on the sky. I was riding with my family and everyone was cheering for us and Sansa kept on telling me to sit down, but I wanted to see better. I wanted to see all those people, to thank them for coming to see us.’’

Her skin turns honey-golden when the sun submerges into the Seine.

‘’Then the boy caught my eye. Tall and skinny. Dark-haired. He looked at me with those pretty blue eyes…. and bowed.’’

Boom. The church bells ring.

Boom. His heart hammers in his chest.

Boom. Arya spins on her feet and looks at him, wide-eyed.

‘’I didn’t tell you that.’’ escapes from in-between his stiff lips.

‘’I know.’’ she takes his hands in hers, cool from the metal railing and trembling. ‘’I remember.’’

Boom.

He drops to his knees.

***

The worst thing is, he should be happy.

He should be happy, cause he is about to become filthy rich; no more sleeping on the streets, no more struggling, stealing, running away. He is in France and there is a whole wide world ahead of him. Their impossible, half-cooked plan actually worked and it seems like they somehow, by some insane miracle, actually did not con anyone at all.

They delivered Princess Arya to her sister. She finally had a place where she could belong. The family she dreamt about her whole life.

And for this good, good deed, Gendry is going to be rewarded with a pile of gold.

So, he should be fucking overjoyed.

‘’I don’t want it.’’ He says to Princess Arya’s butler. The man looks as if he did not understand Gendry’s Russian, so he repeats in French. ‘’I don’t want the money.’’

‘’But sir, Princess Sansa-‘’

‘’Please tell her that – that the joy of her sister is a big enough reward for me. I don’t want this money.’’

Arya, in the opera, in this night-sky-dress sparkling with diamonds and falling down her body like a waterfall. The line of her spine and her shoulder blades moving underneath her skin. The smell of her hair; pine and fresh snow.

Her happy grey eyes.

A silver tiara atop her head.

He wants nothing to do with the Starks, nothing at all.

***

‘’So, you didn’t take the money.’’

‘’I didn’t.’’

‘’Why?’’

How can you ask me this?

‘’I didn’t feel like taking them.’’

‘’That’s not an answer.’’

‘’Yes, it is.’’

‘’No, it isn’t!’’

‘’Yes, it is! Gods, Arya, can you, for once in your life, not make it difficult for me?’’

He doesn’t know what she’s doing here, standing in front of his hotel in the pouring rain and letting it soak her to the bone. He would offer her his umbrella or a coat, if he wasn’t so angry at her.

She has her sister now, what is she looking for here?

‘’I just want to know why you didn’t take the money.’’ She stubbornly repeats. Droplets slide down her cheeks like tears. ‘’Tell me that and I’ll let you go.’’

‘’Oh, and what’s stopping me know, Your Majesty? Did you bring your guards with you, ordering to stop me from leaving if you won’t get what you want from me?’’ he snarls and regrets it the moment the words drop in no man’s land between them.

Arya’s face breaks and she takes a step back as if he slapped her.

‘’You know I didn’t, Gendry.’’ She sounds awfully small, looks awfully small in a wet dress and with her hair plastered to her head and neck.

Desperation does ugly things with a person, Princess.

‘’I’m leaving Paris, Your Majesty. I wish you all the happiness.’’ He says stiffly and steps on the street, passing Arya with his suitcase in one hand and an umbrella in another.

‘’No.’’

He wants to weep. He knows her. How could he believe it would be so simple?

Arya has her arms wrapped around his waist, her face pressed to his back. He can feel shivers running through her body.

‘’Please, Gendry. Please. Tell me why.’’ She whispers and his blood boils in his veins, coloring the Paris red in front of his eyes.

‘’Because you are not a transaction to me!’’ he shouts desperately, turning around to face her. His hands grab her shoulders; the umbrella and the suitcase drop to the pavement and the cold rain viciously attack all exposed parts of his body. He cannot find it in himself to care about that, not even a bit. ‘’Because maybe it started as a con, but it isn’t and it’s – it’s you, Arya. It’s you and I cannot pretend anymore that I don’t care, because I do. I care so much. And you’re a princess and I’m just me and this can never work, and I-‘’

Her lips are cold and wet against his. He tastes salt on them; salt, pine, and snow.

His hands fit around her waist perfectly.

His stubborn, impossible princess, laughing, when she embraces him.

***

Dear Sansa,

I am so sorry for leaving so quickly after we reunited, but you know yourself I was never suited to be a princess. It seems that I have found myself a family even before I met you again. I cannot abandon him now.

Wish me luck! We’ll be in Paris together soon, I promise.

I hope you’ll understand. After all, you’ve always loved grand stories of romance.

Your little sister,

Arya.

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