#this is nearly word for (translated and slightly adjusted) word conversation i had with my dad.

[sualne]

(wip) a comic about a haircut im procrastinating

#undescribed #my art #my comic #secret modern au #this is nearly word for (translated and slightly adjusted) word conversation i had with my dad. #working on the modern au i was still trying to figure out how to go about sanji's transness. then one day i had a #meltdown where this convo happened and i thought it was kind of fascinating how even though the context is different. the meaning of the #words too it's still very much the exact same 'i can't be how i want and i hate it' the difference is sanji doesn't understand why #he feels this way. it's a 'had a breakdown. bon appétit' kind of comic tbh idk if i'll get around finishing it #but it helped me figure out this version of sanji. #i need to go cut my hair

[rainbows-fanfics]

All'inzio (Chapter 23)

Summary: A  soldier-in-training, Valerie hopes to join the Valencian Army to avenge  her father’s death under the wing of General Rooke. But when she happens  to catch the attention of Commander Kane, her plans take a different  turn.

Human AU of the Armada from Pirate101, where Kane meets his Queen.

Pairing: Kane/Queen

–

Note: The title translates to “at the beginning”.

–

“You’re doing wonderful. Not one more movement.” 

‘Queen’s brown eyes watched as Kane worked the strokes into the canvas, his gaze coming to her figure each time his hand left the surface. She was resting comfortably on a red blanket in one of her dresses, surrounded by an arrangement of her favorite flowers. She wore makeup for this occasion, carefully-applied lipstick as well as golden eye shadow. She had been posing for a couple hours now, with a few breaks he allowed in between.

She slightly bowed her head, feeling a cramp in her neck. She refused to complain. It was an honor to be the muse of his next artwork - she asked him if he could paint her. He made enough time for this in his schedule. She shouldn’t sound too impatient. Works of his must take careful time to accomplish.

“...How long will this take?” She asked. 

“It’s almost finished, I assure.” 

She adjusted herself a litte. He didn’t mind if she moved a couple inches - though it was integral she didn’t move her arm that held her mask. She exhaled slowly as she thought of conversation. Now that it was nearly finished, perhaps he was feeling comfortable enough to pick up their discussion from last time…

She attempted to bring the subject up casually. “Did your father have you paint many women in your time?” 

He noticed her tone. “Mostly the wives of rich men. They paid handsomely for my pieces.” 

“-Any as beautiful as me?” She grinned flirtatiously. He relaxed his shoulders. As she hoped. 

“None could simply compare to you, mio caro. You are my masterpiece.” 

His words made her heart flutter. But she couldn’t get distracted. She soon cleared her throat. “Did he inspire you to paint?” 

He kept quiet, much to her dismay. She waited a minute before trying again. “He was an artist as well, wasn’t he? I imagine you were raised with such talent.” 

He was still silent. He seemed to be focused more on the artwork than her. She didn’t let this discourage her. “Did he make any paintings? Or did he-” 

She was interrupted when he set down his brushes and palette roughly. He stopped everything altogether as he shifted himself on the stool. He rubbed a bare finger on his temple. He took off his gloves earlier and wasn’t wearing his usual uniform - he wore a black apron tied tightly around his form. Even she couldn’t help admiring the way it hugged his chest, despite the way he exhaled in frustration. He soon forced a chuckle, which made her heart swell nervously. 

“--I appreciate what you’re trying to do. But...please, stop asking.” He held his hands together. “I would rather not talk about him.” 

“Your father?” He nodded impatiently. “But, why? You spoke with my mother...I want to get to know your family just as well.” 

“You’ve already met who you needed to.” He replied firmly. “I promise there’s no good reason to meet him.” 

She thought more about it. He sensed what was going to happen and busied himself again, collecting more paint and adding the finishing touches. He knew her determination for answers at times. She tested that early on when they first met - demanding such when he questioned her. Regardless, she wanted to make it clear their conversation wasn’t over just yet. 

“Did you two have a fight?” 

He tapped his finger on the wooden handle once or twice. Through clenched teeth, he answered. “Something like that.” 

She pried no more; that was the best she was going to get out of him. He finished his work in silence and barely looked at her. She realized she owed him an apology. She’d been pestering him with questions about his father for a week now - hoping to get information out of him in some way. She did it sparingly not to raise any concern, until now. And even then, she didn’t learn anything new. She soon sighed in regret. 

“I'm sorry, Kane...if you wish not to talk about him, then I’ll respect that.” 

“Thank you. I apologize if I seemed harsh.” He sat back in his seat and admired his work. “I believe it’s finished.” 

He motioned for her to finally stand. She obliged thankfully, stretching her arms and legs while cracking her back. She strolled over to observe what she'd been waiting for in these hours...and her jaw fell open. 

It was more gorgeous than she could have ever imagined. He captured her image so well, even if half of it was obscured by a mask. She was lying peacefully on the blanket with her hand delicately laid over the petals of the flowers. He got the colors and folds of her dress just right, even adding highlights that complimented everything in the picture.

She almost believed she didn't look this good in person.

"My god.." She said in astonishment. "It's wonderful!" 

"I think it's my best work to date."

"Why do you say that?"

'It's you." He replied as if it was obvious. "You are the perfect muse...even nature can't match the beauty."

Her cheeks heated at his words. "Really?"

"Truly." He stood and untied the apron. "Give it the rest of the day to dry, and it is yours to do with as you please." 

She wasted no time embracing him, clutching his form tightly. "I can't thank you enough for this…"

"Easy." He held her back. "We should play a game of chess tonight."

"Of course."

Their lips interlocked for a minute or two until they pulled away. He cupped her chin to position her gaze to his. They stared into each other’s eyes before he left. 'Queen' was left gawking at the portrait in his absence, feeling mesmerized and delighted. She must've observed it for several minutes before she snapped back to reality.

So Kane wasn't upset with her...but he didn't give any answers. She should respect his words and drop the subject entirely...but she couldn't shake the question at hand. What could have transpired between Kane and Gazpaccio to make things the way they were? He was tense every time she brought him up and refused to answer anything.

She rubbed her chin in thought. She might know a way without having to ask him again.

-----

Kane excused himself from monitoring Bishop and Queen that day. He tended to be busy nowadays - constantly working for several hours in secluded rooms and workshops. She wasn’t allowed to follow him at times. But it didn’t bother her. She expected him to leave right away, clenching her gloves as she watched him go through the door. She waited several minutes to make sure he disappeared down the hallway. She couldn’t afford for him to overhear her next conversation.

After a few seconds, she turned her head to the other figure in the room. "Bishop? Are you busy?"

A startled noise came as a tall figure hit his head on a shelf. 'Queen' stood and bit her lip in guilt. He glared in her direction before looking back to the table, where he was mixing some solutions he'd been messing with for several minutes now. He always resorted to his work after their lessons ended. A gesture intended to let her know she had to leave.

"As busy as I usually am." He replied patiently. She made sure the door was firmly shut.

"I promise I won't bother. I just have a few more questions for you."

She approached him with a hand behind her back, the other carefully holding her mask. She leaned forward to observe until he motioned her away. He was doing something with chemicals and the space was necessary. She must make this brief and not waste any more of his time.

"Do you...ah…" She started, unsure how to ask him exactly. "Would you happen to know anything about Kane's father?"

He looked up after experimentally dripping some substance in a tube. He waited in anticipation for a reaction. Nothing happened. He sighed and wrote something down. 'Queen' was about to repeat herself until he answered her question.

"I don't know anything about my grandfather."

"What? How is that possible?"

"I am the youngest child, so to speak." He turned to address her. "Therefore, I never met him. Deacon and Rooke might know more. Phule especially would."

"So, they know him?"

"Likely. I was born in our new home where our grandfather did not live. But the rest of my kinsmen were."

She held a thoughtful finger to her mask. "Are you telling the truth?"

She had to ask. He had a habit of being dishonest with her. She assumed it was because she was nosy and there was plenty the tinkerer insisted on concealing from her, for the sake of ‘confidentiality’ . He sounded annoyed that she brought this up with this particular subject. It eased her suspicions.

"Of course I am."

"Thank you. That's all I needed to know."

He shooed her away with his hand. She wasn't even offended by the gesture. She left the room as soon as she could, determined to make her next move in learning about Gazpaccio. She’ll have to pay a visit with Kane’s other sons, in hope to gain any more information about this.

----

The War Marshal was currently on the Valencian docks outside, helping with loading his ship. It was an extremely heavy warship that exceeded the size of most Armada vessels. There were various amounts of cargo, ammunition, and gunpowder it carried. They were handled by large Armada soldiers and dragoons. It would take time for everything to be loaded on so he could depart tomorrow. He was currently overseeing his men handling the crates and boxes, carrying anything that they couldn't. He made sure nothing was missing from the list held in his brother’s hands. 

Deacon watched intently from beside him. They were almost done. "How long will you be gone for?" 

"I have a lot to do. All this time away has been… distracting ." The larger man confessed. "You'll oversee the training for me, right?"

"I'm sure she'll be fine. I'm confident I'll do a good job."

"Great." He noticed a figure approaching and lifted his masked head. "Speaking of..."

They watched as a woman approached the docks. She was not at all dressed for the occasion, having to hold the ends of her gown up and be mindful of the rocks and dirt outside. She was careful of her footing on the floorboards and greeted the soldiers moving around her. She excused herself until she reached the two Elites - who looked confused as to why she was there. Regardless, she was welcomed as they customarily tipped their hats. 

"'Queen.'" The spymaster greeted. "What a surprise to see you here." 

She observed the massive warship sitting several yards away. "What are you two doing?"

"Rooke is preparing to deliver shipments to our bases." The man replied easily. "He sets sail tomorrow."

"You mean... that's your ship?"

She pointed timidly at the huge structure. It was gigantic in size, its build making the dock look puny. It was equipped with large cannons and sharp figureheads that could easily pierce any galleon. It matched the colors of his own armor - a dark red and black, covered in equally dark grays. Her eyes got swept up in all the movement, watching large boxes being transported on. She couldn’t imagine sailing something that big. She would’ve ended up on one of these, if she had gone through her training for the navy...

"'Certainly is." The General confirmed proudly. "I always have to be prepared, lest we run into pirates or some other rogues on the sea." 

"...I see." She tore her gaze away. As much as she’d love to ask more, she had to stay focused. "Do you two have time to spare, at the moment? I have something I'd like to ask of you both."

They exchanged glances. Deacon read through the list and muttered something about being good on supplies and time. She brought them to the side, away from the nearby ears of soldiers and dragoons. As soon as they were out of earshot, she asked the question she’d had little answers to thus far: 

“Do you guys know anything about Gazpaccio?”

Rooke rubbed his chin at the question. “You mean-”

“-- Not a good subject.” Deacon butted in, staring at her intensely. “You mustn't ask about it.” 

“Why not?” 

“Kane doesn’t like to talk about it. And he wouldn’t appreciate us doing it, either.” He passed a glance at Rooke, who audibly shut his jaw. “You should drop it for now.” 

“Can you at least tell me why it is this way? I don’t have to know anything about him ...just, why does Kane's father seem to be a bad subject?” 

“Is it really forbidden?” The general turned to his brother. “We imprisoned him so long ago…don’t you think-” 

Her jaw fell open. “Imprison !?” 

The spymaster passed an irritated glance to his twin, who looked away in shame. “-Yes, he is currently locked away. Which should tell you why we can’t talk about it.” 

“I didn’t know Kane still cared. I mean, if it’s still bothering him after all this time...” The large man muttered.

 “Why would you put him behind bars? What did he do?” She asked frantically. “I didn't think it was anything this bad--” 

He held a gloved hand to stop her rambling. “You better not get any more curious, because we’re not going to tell you.”

“Alright, then.” She’d have to play some cards to get any meaningful answers. “Deacon, you can keep a secret, right? You don’t have to tell Kane EVERYTHING?” 

“It's my job. I’ll have to tell him you even asked.” 

“Consider... not doing that, then?” She chewed on her lip, thinking on the spot. “And helping me instead?” 

“Suppose I do you the favor. What would I get out of this?” He leaned forward on his cane in interest.

“I would be in debt to you.” 

He thought of how useful ‘Queen’ was to him. He came up with a few interesting prospects, but none worthy enough to spill something like this. The pleading look in her eyes begged him to consider otherwise. He’d never heard of anyone being this curious about Kane’s past. Even the women who gossiped and wished to court him did not care about the Supreme Commander’s missing story. They admired who he was now, a strong and powerful commander who everyone respected and feared. No one cared to learn anything more about him. And despite all this time...Valerie was still here.

He leaned back and cleared his throat, tapping his cane firmly on the ground. 

“He was arrested for crimes he’d committed. The toy-making businesses weren’t without shady practices. He’d been in stiff competition and did unlawful things to make some money, while knowing it was illegal. Kane deemed it necessary to turn him in for these actions, and we did exactly that.” 

“How could you bring yourself to put your own grandfather behind bars? Wasn’t that hard?” She asked weakly. 

“Not exactly.” Rooke shrugged. “Gazpaccio took care of us when we were little, but we were only children when we moved on. By the time we arrested him, we’d already been separated for years.” 

“--And that’s all we’re telling you.” The spymaster finished. 

‘Queen’ hid the troubled look on her face with her mask. So, Kane’s father was in prison? By his own request? How could his children lock away their own family so carelessly like that? Were they this disconnected with their own grandfather? She sensed something more about this situation, but decided not to press any further. She’s fortunate he promised not to blab about this as it is. 

“Thank you. I think that answers my questions.” 

“I won’t tell Kane, but I advise you not to dig any further. I can tell you he would be upset if you did.” 

She wondered when he’d ever been angry with her. It must’ve been when she was a cadet, and demanded to know about the test he was running...it was the only time she ever heard him infuriated, beyond the instance she had her nose broken. Would he ever get that upset again? She couldn't picture it, after knowing him as an honorable man after all this time. She hummed in thought and bid goodbye, her mind swarming with this new information. 

Knowing Gazpaccio was arrested only made her more curious. What illegal actions warranted such a thing? How could toy-making somehow be an illicit business? She felt agitated that Deacon wasn’t willing to tell her more. Maybe if she caught Rooke on his own, she would’ve learned what she wanted...she huffed as she approached Kane’s mansion and threw open the doors. She stormed up the stairs and plopped down on the floor in frustration.

She held her head in her hands. Why was this bothering her so much? Was it that he was keeping this from her? Sure, she wasn’t owed any of it, but it felt unfair. If only this family of his wasn’t so peculiar...she wished she could just meet Gazpaccio and learn everything about him, so she could get to know Kane a little better. That's all she wanted from the start. He's been relatively quiet about his past, the entire time she'd known him.

‘I know he’s hiding things,’ She thought to herself. ‘I wish I knew more about him...and his family…’ 

As she groaned loudly, a sudden voice caught her by surprise. 

“Are you alright?” 

She snapped her head upwards, only to find a colorful man looking down at her. She grabbed her mask to conceal the frustrated look on her face. The last person she expected was Phule, but at least that made sense. He was always around when it was most unwanted. She sighed and weakly motioned her hand in the air. 

“I'm fine...just feeling a little annoyed…”

“I’ll say.” He replied in a deep tone. “You’re sitting in front of my door.” 

She realized set herself down in front of his room. She stood to her feet and muttered an apology, wiping the dirt off from her dress. He moved past her to open the door. As she stared at his back, a realization suddenly struck. Phule is... also an Elite! One of Kane’s sons! He was the oldest, wasn’t he? And Bishop said something about him knowing Gazpaccio the best..!

Before he could close the door, she moved her hand on it to stop him. This took more strength than she expected it to. He jumped at the noise and looked at her as if she was crazy.

"Phule ! Wait a moment.” She moved herself into the doorway. He gave her an impatient scowl. “Would you - uh - mind telling me about Gazpaccio..?” 

“My grandfather?” He replied in confusion. “What on Earth for?” 

“Well, no one seems to want - or can - tell me…And I was wondering if you could ?” 

He crossed his arms and leaned on the wall. “Now, why would I do that? Kane gets furious about this sort of thing.” 

“I know he'd be upset, but he doesn’t have to know! I just want to learn a little more about his family. It's harmless, isn’t it?”

Something changed in the jester’s expression as it dawned on him. Things have been boring as of late, and Kane getting outraged is the exact type of amusement he’d been begging for. It would even be from his own girlfriend..! That sounded like a show he’d enjoy. He relished the drama in his family, especially the conflict between relatives and even the annoyance of his own brothers...he grinned wickedly at this picture. Oh, how fun it would be for Kane to find a reason to finally kick this girl onto the streets…!

It was almost too tempting with the way she held her hands together and begged. 

“You're my last hope. All I ask to know is what he was like. What happened between him and Kane...Hell, Deacon said he was imprisoned, but I don’t have a clue as to where! If I could just visit him-” 

“You’d like to see him?” His heart raced in exhilaration. This sounded exciting! She nodded sadly.

“I do. You can’t do that, can you? I imagine only Deacon knows-”

“Oh, I know where he is. And I can take you there.” He leaned on the doorway coyly, twisting his marotte in his hand. “But you have to promise you won’t tell a soul.” 

She appeared hesitant. “Is it forbidden to see Gazpaccio?” 

“Visitors are highly frowned upon. Especially by my father. But, I know a way we can get there without anyone knowing..! You just have to trust me.” 

She frowned, mulling this idea over. He grew impatient with her reluctance to agree. “I guess we can do that...if you take me to him, then I don’t have to ask anymore questions…” 

“All the more reason to do it.” He looked around to ensure they were alone before ushering her in his room. “Come..!” 

She was surprised to be invited into his room and followed his hand. He slammed the door shut behind her. His decor was as she expected - there were lots of playing cards, instruments, and colorful things laying around. His bed was messy and the floor was littered with crumbled paper and items. She stepped over them to sit in one of the chairs in front of a lone table. It had an unfinished game of solitaire currently sitting on it.

He followed after and sat across the table, giving a smile she found hard to recognize. Something about this felt... wrong . Especially with how Deacon told her to drop it. But she couldn’t shake the opportunity to meet Gazpaccio. She figured she could learn more about Kane’s eldest son while she was at it. She'd been looking for an excuse to spend more time with him. He leaned forward and animated himself theatrically with his hands.

“My grandfather is imprisoned in a lone tower on an island lived in exclusively by the Tortellini family. Now…the Tortellinis are big fans of gambling. They’re famous for it, actually! On a certain day of each month, they gather everyone in the family to partake in a card game...and it leaves the island mostly uninhabited.” 

She was interested in his words. 

“Since there will be no guards around Gazpaccio’s tower, we can easily slip in-and-out, given how long their game takes. And they’re a big family. So you should have plenty of time to get to know my grandfather, and ask him all your silly little questions. Do you follow what I'm saying?” 

“Yes, we sneak in while they’re playing their game, I meet Gazpaccio, and then we leave.” She repeated. 

“Smart girl! It’s a simple plan, but easy to mess up if you don’t know what you’re doing.” His voice deepened again as he looked at her seriously. “You follow me, you listen to me, and you do as I say. Got it? Otherwise the both of us will get in trouble. And you don’t want that. Believe me.” 

“I understand.” 

“Their game happens to be next Tuesday. I want you to meet with me at the docks, by yourself, early that morning. I won’t wait if you’re late, so you better be quick.” 

She clenched her hands. “Next Tuesday morning, by the docks...Got it.” 

“ Bene, bene. And don’t waste my time. It’s going to take a lot of work to get you there.” He cleared the cards from his game. “Make sure every second is worth it.” 

“Phule, may I ask why you're doing all of this for me? We haven’t talked much beyond your work. I appreciate what you’re doing. I just wonder why you’d do all of this for me.” 

He smiled. It wasn’t genuine. It was in amusement at how naive ‘Queen’ truly was. Even though Kane taught her all about deceiving people, she had a hard time recognizing it from others. Then again, he'd been doing this longer than her. He wanted everything to go wrong. He hoped for it, actually. All he had to do was watch his own back and make sure he didn’t get roped in with her trouble. He wanted to watch the fire that was inevitably going to burn from this. And she had no clue what was bound to happen, despite all the warnings sent her way.

“Because I care about you,” He spoke dramatically. “I want you to know more about my father. And I know how quiet he can be about himself. That’s why you want to do this, isn’t it? So you can learn what Kane was like back then?” 

“Yes, exactly…” 

“-And I want to help you.” He forced himself not to laugh. She’ll hate learning everything Kane’s done and change her opinion of him completely! He wouldn’t be surprised if they broke up after this entire thing. "I want to keep him happy, just as you do."

She looked at him meaningfully. "Thank you..." 

He chuckled darkly.

#pirate101 #p101 #pirate101 kane #pirate101 queen #kane x queen #all'inzio #pirate101 phule #gazpaccio #pirate101 deacon #pirate101 rooke #fanfiction #fanfic

[ai4cf23]

mixed feelings (assignment 1)

When people think of writing, it doesn’t always occur to them that it can be a collaborative process. Why would it be? It’s an incredibly intimate art form that has no visual imagery beyond words on a page. The job of a writer is to evoke emotions through these words, to take ideas and somehow formulate them into a unique amalgamation that both encapsulates and explores the human psyche. So how, exactly, would someone (or something) fit into that?

In my own experience, I have found that sharing my writing is deeply terrifying. Coincidentally (and perhaps unfortunately), it is also very, very helpful—given the right group of people. A proper workshop can be extremely productive; having other writers read and give feedback on your work is probably one of the best things you can do for yourself. There are a few objective errors they might be able to catch: plot holes, grammatical mistakes, formatting issues. But the value in workshop lies mostly in the subjective interpretation of your work. Does it flow properly? Does the conclusion feel satisfying? Do you relate to the characters? Is the dialogue natural? What does natural dialogue even mean? Given that there’s no solid answer to any of these questions, I have doubts as to whether or not AI could be helpful in this way. If we take, for example, the concept of dialogue: it’s an active struggle for many to capture the “humanness” and verisimilitude of what good dialogue should be. If a real, living, breathing person cannot translate the very experience of conversation, then what hope does an AI have? I don’t say this merely out of skepticism either, because I’ve tried. Below is an example of a scene produced by ChatGPT after I provided it with the prompt: “can you write a scene between two characters arguing about where they should go for spring break?”

Despite its ability to produce…something, the dialogue itself is very cluttered. People don’t talk like this. For attempt no. 2, I ask it to make the dialogue more natural.

Still a no go. It interprets "natural" as more "colloquial", which, while true, doesn't work if it doesn't have an understanding of what colloquial speech entails.

“Sarah, Miami is so mainstream. I was thinking something more off the beaten path, like the Grand Canyon,” is giving sit-com. If ChatGPT were writing for a Disney channel show, then maybe this would be acceptable. But in a work of prose? No dice.

Okay. Let’s try something new. This time I ask if it can produce a work about adjusting to life in the city in the style of Lorie Moore’s How to Be a Writer, a notable and more importantly, distinct example of prose written in second person. Her writing is wonderfully whimsical and is not entirely linear. The first attachment below is an excerpt from Moore, followed by ChatGPT's output.

Here, it’s nailed the style…sort of. The basic structure is there. But the diction is slightly off and the prose is awkward in a way I can’t quite articulate. It doesn’t “flow.” It is also obsessively literal in a way that feels strangely shallow. No one thinks of the subway in a way that is nearly as romantic as "underground chariot." Some other parts have potential: the phrase "tetris-like living" is interesting, but it's still wordy and unrefined. What is most glaringly obvious, however, is that it lacks imagination. Could ChatGPT have come up with something as randomly clever as "a short story about an elderly man and woman who accidentally shot each other in the head, the result of an inexplicable malfunction of a shotgun which appears mysteriously in their living room one night"? Would it occur to an AI to call Mr. Killian pore-face?

Evidently ChatGPT is capable of mimicking specific works, but it doesn’t really know how to produce content of a certain caliber. While I don’t ever intend to use AI to actually write in my stead, this severely undercuts any hopes I had for it being helpful in a collaborative/workshop capacity. I admittedly have not plugged any of my own work into ChatGPT just because it feels…sacrilegious? In a way? It’s a little unsettling knowing that my writing could be used to train it.

However! Back to the point. Where does this lead us now?

For me, the question of AI in its current iteration (or, at least, the version of ChatGPT that I have access to) is whether or not it can learn how to think abstractly in the way that is required of objectively “good” writers. Although it can try to mimic specific writing styles, that doesn’t mean it can achieve the same quality of work or produce something that is artistically sound. I think AI has a long, long way to go before it can begin to replicate the humanity that is required of prose fiction. That being said, it also makes me deeply uncomfortable that AI could ever potentially reach that level of sophistication. Writing is ultimately a form meant to capture the human experience. If a machine can somehow learn to accomplish something similar, then what does that mean for us?

For reference, I’ve also attached an excerpt of my own writing about living life in the city, loosely inspired by How to Be a Writer (this is also why I plugged that specific prompt into ChatGPT). This was written half a year before its release.

#assignment

[maximoffwitch]

Heart on Fire: Chapter 2 (Wanda Maximoff x Reader)

chapter summary: As the weeks go by and you adjust to the Avenger life, you try to connect with Wanda.

warnings: hints at ptsd, poorly google translated russian (again sry :/)

word count: 3.5k

a/n: second chapter! here we’ll get to see more of wanda :) enjoy! also the next update may be a little slow (same w the rest of my writing) until after finals but then i should have plenty of time to write during break!

SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter 2: Kindling Slowly

The next few weeks consisted of training with Wanda and Nat, both in your powers and regular combat, getting acclimated to the team, and adjusting to what normal life was life, or as normal as one could be as an Avenger.

Considering that you and Wanda spent nearly every day together, you developed a, well you wouldn’t call it a friendship rather, an interesting relationship. You noticed the little things about her, like the way she scrunched her nose when she laughed or tilted her head slightly before she delivered the knockout blow. And while you knew from Natasha that she had had a twin brother, you learned the hard way that the subject was still a sore spot for the witch.

“Hey, Wanda,” you approached the other girl after one of your sparring matches.

“What, (Y/N)?” Wanda turned to you, annoyance radiating off of her, as she packed her things, clearly wanting to leave.

You nervously bit your lip, as you contemplated your next words. Although you and Wanda weren’t the closest, despite training all the time together, you were hoping to become friends, especially given how much the two of you had in common. Being experimented on, losing your family, losing a sibling.

“Um, I was wondering if you could tell me about Pietro?” you offered her a soft smile, hoping to convey that you truly meant well, but the next thing you knew, you were thrown across the room by wisps of red magic. Clearly that wasn’t the way to go about this, you thought to yourself, wincing in pain.

“Don’t,” Wanda hissed, standing over you, “talk about him.”

“Okay, I’m sorry,” you apologized earnestly, as you got up, ready to propose an alternate topic of conversation. But before you could speak, Wanda turned on her heels and stormed out of the training room.

—

After that day, the air had been tense between you and Wanda, despite your attempts to crack jokes and lighten the brunette’s mood. For some reason, one you couldn’t quite pinpoint, you wanted Wanda to like you. You wanted to at least be her friend, so you made any attempt to invite her to spend time doing things that didn’t consist of beating each other up.

Devising an idea, you planned everything to a tee, even consulting Natasha for her advice. Once you had it all sorted out, you decided that it was now or never.

That morning, as Wanda went to grab milk for her cereal, she paused.

“What’s this?” Wanda peeled off the red sticky note that was stuck on the fridge and turned to Natasha.

“I dunno,” the assassin shrugged, her spy training coming in handy, as she pretended as if she didn’t know what you had planned. “What does it say?”

“‘Wanda, Meet in the lobby at 6,” she read aloud, eyebrows scrunching with confusion, “‘smiley face.’”

“Who’s it from?” Natasha sipped her coffee to hide a knowing smirk.

“Doesn’t say,” Wanda twisted her lips before crumpling the note in her hand.

“Hey!” Nat protested, offended as if she had been the one to write it. “Aren’t you at least gonna check it out?”

“Uh, no?”

“Why not?” the redhead pushed the younger girl.

“Why would I?” Wanda shot back. “For all I know it could be some HYDRA agent trying to kidnap me.”

Natasha raised her brow incredulously. “You really think a HYDRA soldier would leave you a sticky note on the fridge with a smiley face? Wanda, if they wanted to kidnap you, they wouldn’t ask.”

Wanda felt her cheeks warm, causing Nat to grin amusedly.

“Just go for it,” Natasha urged. “What do you have to lose?”

After a moment of contemplation, Wanda relented. “Fine. But if I get kidnapped, you better come find me.”

“I promise,” Nat chuckled.

A couple hours later, Wanda made her way down to the lobby, slowing when she saw you leaning against the desk with a grin.

“Hey, Maximoff,” you greeted, holding her coat out for her.

“You were the one who wrote that note?” she tried to hide the surprise but you could tell by the way her eyes widened slightly.

“Yeah,” you scratched the back of your neck. “I knew if I asked you in person you would’ve said no.”

Wanda internally cringed at that because she knew it was true. “And what would I have said no to exactly?”

“Well, there’s this Sokovian market in Queens and they’re having a Christmas themed night celebration thing,” you trailed off, trying to gauge her reaction.

“And you wanted to me to go with you?” Wanda asked, this time genuinely curious.

“Yeah,” you nodded, the smile returning to your face. “I mean I’ve never been to anything like this, so I thought it could be a cool experience, and I know you miss your home, so I thought this might be something you’d enjoy but if you don’t wanna go, I totally understand. And I thought that this could be a good way for us to spend some time together, you know, outside of training. But again, if you don’t want to—“

“(Y/N),” Wanda interrupted your rambling, causing you to chuckle sheepishly. “I’d love to go.”

“Really?” your eyes lit up, not expecting her to agree.

“Really,” she nodded, taking the coat from your hand. “I’ve been dying for some pryaniki.”

“Oh, that sounds delicious,” you agreed, as the two of you made your way outside to where Happy was waiting. “We’ll have to bring some back for Nat.”

That night, the two of you strolled the Sokovian Christmas market, buying a variety of treats to bring back to the tower. While you’d had the most fun in a while, and you could tell Wanda enjoyed herself as well, your conversations were surface level. Every time you tried to get to know her, Wanda switched the subject, brushing you off. At one point, she even wandered off without you, claiming she had to go to the bathroom.

When you got back to the compound, Wanda thanked you with a tiny smile before quickly scurrying into the elevator, not bothering to wait for you, despite the fact that your rooms were on the same floor. You felt defeated, not understanding why the other girl didn’t like you.

—

“I don’t understand,” you waved your hands exasperatedly, as you paced in front of the sofa where Natasha currently sat watching you. “I’ve been nothing but kind and amicable to her.”

You plopped down next to your friend, sinking into the cushions. “I just wanted a friend,” you mumbled frustratedly, playing with the hem of your sleeves.

“What am I? Chopped liver?” Natasha joked.

“You know what I mean,” you lightly nudged her shoulder, sitting up a bit.

“Are you sure it’s not because you want her to be more than a friend?” she asked, her tone teasing but you could tell she was intrigued.

“What?” you sputtered, feeling your face warm. “No, nothing like that.”

“Mhm,” Natasha knew you were lying but decide not to push it. “Look, (Y/N), Wanda’s been through a lot,” she held up her hand to stop you when she noticed you were about to interrupt, “and I know you’ve been through hell too, but a lot has happened to her in the past few months. It’s a lot to process.”

“I know,” you sighed. “I just thought that we could connect, support each other, you know, like you said.”

“I know, (Y/N/N),” Nat sympathized, wrapping her arm around your shoulder and bringing you in closer to her. “But everyone grieves and handles loss differently.”

“You’re right,” you leaned into the older woman’s embrace.

“I know,” she said smugly, causing you to playfully slap her shoulder. “Now, shush, you have a lot to catch up on and I wanna show you my favorite movie.”

—

From then on, you decided to give Wanda some space.

You only spent time with her and spoke to her during trainings and team meals. While you were still as friendly as before, you didn’t make the same effort, and Wanda didn’t seem to mind.

Although your efforts at friendship had been thwarted, your hours and hours of training your powers had paid off. You were able to produce and control fire a lot more easily, and you could also warm your body up higher than your already abnormal body temperature.

Not only were you becoming more comfortable with your powers, but you felt as if you were becoming a part of the team. Clint told you about his family, showing you some adorable photos of little Nathaniel; you started joining Steve and Sam on their morning runs, which the latter was pleased about, finally having someone his pace; and Bruce and Tony indulged your nerdy side, bouncing ideas off of you about new experiments and inventions.

With Natasha back in your life and being a part of something good, you finally felt as if you had a home. Though you couldn’t help but notice Wanda’s glare whenever you were spending time with anyone on the team.

That night, against your better judgement, you knocked on her door.

“Come in,” she directed softly.

“Hi,” you poked your head in. “Nat and I were gonna watch a couple episodes of a TV series if you wanted to join?”

“What show?”

“I think it’s called Bewitched or something,” you answered, tilting your head as you tried to remember. “I don’t know what it’s about. Natasha picked it, said I needed to watch it.”

“No, thanks,” Wanda declined, despite wanting nothing more than to join you and watch her favorite show. “I don’t want to interrupt.”

“You wouldn’t be interrupting,” you insisted.

Wanda bit her lip and after a moment of contemplation, she shook her head. “It’s alright. I want to finish my book.”

“Alright,” you smiled softly, trying to mask your disappointment, “maybe next time.”

“Sure,” she nodded, as you retreated back into the hallway.

“No?” Natasha looked up, as you entered the living room.

You shook your head and claimed the spot next to the redhead. “She said she wanted to read her book.”

“Really?” Nat raised her eyebrows. “Bewitched is her favorite show.”

You picked at your fingernails, trying to stop yourself from getting lost in you deprecating thoughts. As if she was the mindreader of the team, Natasha reached out and took your hands in hers.

“Hey,” she gently squeezed your hands, “her decision has nothing to do with you, alright? Remember what I told you?”

You nodded with a sigh.

“Good. Now,” Natasha began to smirk as she lifted your intertwined up to your face, “remember what I told you about picking at your nails?”

Rolling your eyes, you pulled your hands back from hers and turned to face the TV. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, все что (whatever).”

After watching the first couples episodes of the sitcom, you could see why it was Wanda’s favorite show. You mentally cursed yourself, as your thoughts once again drifted towards the witch.

“You wanna watch another episode?” Natasha, thankfully, pulled you out of your thoughts.

You glanced down at your watch and shook your head. “It’s getting kinda late. I think I’m gonna head up to bed.”

“Okay,” she contently closed her eyes, as you leaned down to kiss the crown of her forehead. “I’m gonna stay down here for a little longer.”

“Waiting for a certain super soldier?” you teased, ducking to avoid the pillow that narrowly missed you.

“Shut up!”

“Love you too,” you called back with a chuckle before making your way up to your room and calling it a night.

—

“(Y/N)?” you heard a voice whisper, as you were pulled from your slumber.

Your eyes flew open, relaxing slightly when you saw it was only Wanda. “Wanda,” you gasped, flopping backdown onto your bed, “jeez, you scared me.”

“Sorry,” she grimaced.

“You’re lucky Nat took away my Glock,” you mumbled under your breath, evidently not so quietly as Wanda’s eyes widened.

“What?”

The sound of the door handle woke you, and as the footsteps approached your bed, you discretely slid your hand under your pillow to grab the gun you’d hid.

Before the intruder could lay their hand on you, you sat up and aimed at them.

“Woah, (Y/N). It’s me,” Natasha held her hands up, not wanting to startle you even further.

“What the hell, Nat?” you hissed before turning the safety on and setting the weapon down on your nightstand.

“You’re asking me that?” she exasperated. “Why are you even sleeping with a gun?”

“Makes me feel safer,” you shrugged. “You of all people should understand.”

Natasha sighed, as she sat on the edge of your bed, hitting your leg lightly so you’d make room for her. “I do understand.”

Lifting your head, you observed the older woman. Her face had become more defined over the years and her hair longer. While there was a certain glow that she radiated, you could tell that the nightmares and memories haunted her. Patiently, you waited for Natasha to continue, knowing she had more to say.

“It took me months to adjust being here,” she revealed. “Not only being on the good side of it all and fighting for the good guys, but also being here, in a place I knew was safe, where I had other people on my side.”

A moment of silence passed between the two of you, your eyes not leaving her. She turned to meet your gaze and offered you an affirming smile.

“You’re safe here,” Natasha squeezed your knee. “I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.”

You knew that the redhead was still feeling guilty about your whole situation, feeling as if she could’ve done more, but you also knew she would deny your protests, so you let it go for now.

“I know, Nat,” you dropped you head onto her shoulder.

“Good,” she leaned her head on top of yours. “I’m taking your gun away.”

Too tired to object, you just huffed, as your eyelids began to droop.

“Nothing,” you shook your head, pushing the memory to the back of your head. “Wanda, what are you doing in my room,” you glanced at the clock, “at 1:18 in the morning?”

“Um, well,” she stuttered, “I think the heat broke in the compound, and it’s freezing in my room so I was wondering if I could stay in here?”

She rushed out the last part so quickly that you almost missed it.

“The heat’s broken?” you scrunched your nose and she nodded. “Huh, I didn’t notice.”

Wanda raised her eyebrow at you with an incredulous look.

“Right,” you chuckled awkwardly, remembering you were basically a human heater. Pulling the sheets back, you tapped the spot next to you. “Well come on then.”

“Really?” A mixture of surprise and fondness washed over Wanda’s face.

“Just get in before I change my mind, Maximoff,” you teased lazily, as you concentrated on radiating warmth off your body.

Wanda carefully climbed under the sheets, sighing contently as the warmth engulfed her. For you, the presence of another body in your bed brought a whole other kind of warmth to you, one you weren’t familiar with.

“Better?” you closed your eyes, hoping the darkness of the room would hide the blush on your cheeks.

“Much,” Wanda hummed sleepily. “Thank you, (Y/N).”

Though you were too tired to voice your response, you fell asleep with a small smile on your face at the sincerity in Wanda’s voice.

—

As the sun crept in the next morning, you woke to an arm across your torso and legs intertwined with yours. Slowly opening your eyes, you were met with the sight of brown locks splayed across your chest. During the night, Wanda had somehow made it over to your side of the bed, seeking the warmth of your body.

Turning your head slightly, you observed the sleeping woman. The morning light shined on Wanda’s face, giving her an angelic glow. Up close, you noticed little features you hadn’t before, like the freckles that dotted her face or the way her eyelashes naturally curled. She was breathtaking.

Not wanting to wake her, you remained still and let your eyes close again, falling back asleep.

The second time you woke, you immediately noticed Wanda’s absence. Sighing, you pushed down disappointment that was creeping up. You slid out of bed and got ready for breakfast, remembering there was a team meeting this morning.

“Sleep well last night?” Natasha greeted you with a teasing grin, as you entered the kitchen.

“Uh,” you knitted you brows, moving to grab a doughnut from the pink box on the counter, “yeah?”

“I’ll bet,” she smirked, as she sipped her coffee. You eyed her suspiciously, trying to figure out what she was hinting at.

“просто выплюнь это (Just spit it out), Natasha,” you demanded frustratedly.

“I didn’t know you were a cuddler, маленький (little one),” she said, as a wide grin formed across her face, causing your eyes to widen.

“I-I’m not,” you stammered, letting out a nervous laugh. “I don’t know why…what would make you think that?”

Natasha rolled her eyes at your attempt to be nonchalant. For a former spy, you were truly a horrible liar.

“(Y/N), I saw you and Wanda snuggled up together in your bed last night.”

“Oh,” you flushed red, tucking a loose hair behind your ears.

“Yeah,” Nat chuckled. “Care to tell me what that was about?”

“Well, Wanda said the heater broke so she wanted to, well, come stay in my room because I’m, you know, warm,” you cringed at your awkward phrasing.

“She wanted you to keep her warm?” Nat wiggled her brows suggestively.

“Yes,” you answered before shaking your head. “Wait, no. Not like that!”

“I’m just teasing, (Y/N/N),” she laughed, slipping off the stool to put her mug in the sink. “Remember, meeting in 5.”

With that, the redhead sauntered out of the room, leaving you to finish your doughnut and recover from your embarrassment. After shaking yourself out of your stupor, you scarfed down the rest of your breakfast so you could make it downstairs on time.

The meeting dragged on, as Fury outlined basic protocol updates, while Tony and Steve had their usual banter. You were just waiting for the end when missions and assignments were announced.

Finally, Fury handed everyone a manilla envelope, presumably containing the mission details. “This one’s all hands on deck,” he paused to address you, “including you, (Y/L/N).”

Nerves and excitement bubbled up inside you. While you had been on several small missions already, this would be your first serious one, one with the whole team.

As Fury explained what needed to be done, Natasha sent you an encouraging smile, which you returned, trying to show her that you were ready for this.

“We’ll be leaving tonight,” Steve declared, earning nods from the group, as you all dispersed to prepare.

You spent the rest of the day relaxing in your room, wanting some time to yourself and also to get ready for this upcoming mission. You knew you were ready, your powers were under control and you had just beaten Natasha in a sparring match the other day, but you couldn’t help but think of all the possible things that could go wrong.  

“Whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong,” Natasha interrupted, leaning against the doorway.

“Even I was thinking that Natasha Romanoff is the best person in the world,” you joked, causing the older woman to roll her eyes, as she entered your room and sat on the bed.

“Even that,” she took a moment to observe you, and you knew that despite all the years you had been separated, the redhead could still read you like a book.  “You’re ready for this. You’ve been on other missions and executed them perfectly. This is no different, okay?”

Nodding, you took a deep breath and offered her an appreciative smile.

“Good,” Nat squeezed your arm. “Come on, it’s time to go.”

The hum of the quinjet did little to calm your nerves. While there were hushed conversations among some of your teammates, you thought if you were to speak, you might throw up. Time passed painfully slow and too quick at the same time and before you knew it, Steve was giving final instructions.

You patiently waited for your assignment, bouncing your knee up and down, until you finally heard your name.

“(Y/N), you and Wanda will be on the front line,” he announced. “Of course we’ll all be right behind but with both of your powers combined, those HYDRA soldiers don’t stand a chance.”

“Got it, Cap,” you nodded before glancing over at Wanda, offering her a small smile. The brunette’s eyes were already on you when your eyes met, but her face remained neutral.

Great, you thought to yourself, as the smile slowly dropped from your face, replaced by an awkward pout, this should be fun.

​.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・

taglist: @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @nfatale05 @iliketozoneout

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #heart on fire #my writing

[demonologistfucker]

Free Angel GN! Angel MC x Obey Me, Part 1

Summary: You are the third Angel to be welcome in Diavolo’s exchange program. This is the first time in your life that you are free from any Angelic codes, and you’re interested to indulge. You can’t explore hell alone though, so you’ll be given the Avatar of Wrath as a guardian.

This is my writing out the AU i had for my own mc, but as an MC insert. This first chapter is SFW, but if I continue, there will be NSFW smutty chapters. This Angel wants to have some fun in hell, and is Poly so ✨

Word Count: 3459

“Are you excited?” Simeon looked down to Luke. Who was fussing over his own clothes. Making sure everything was neat and presentable. 

“Of course not,” Luke huffed. “This is going to be the worst year.”

“I don’t know about that,” MC grinned as they rocked back onto their heels. “We’re going to learn quite a lot.” So much about the Devildom had been kept away from the angels. MC was created by God after the revolution. All they had ever been told was what to fear about the devils and their land. However, MC knew there were gaps in the story. Noticed the longing that flared in Simeon’s eyes whenever The Morningstar and his family were brought up. Which is why, as the magic circle began to glow, MC felt a great excitement. Luke watched the magic circle glow with wide eyes. While Simeon continued on as if nothing was changing.

“Try to keep an open mind, Luke. The Devildom is not all bad.” Simeon patted Luke’s head. “You might even make some friends.”  just as the magic circle completed. Reality spluttered for a second, and then everything was dark. 

“Absolutely not!” Luke’s shrill voice was all that MC could sense. Then they tasted the air, cool and tinged with sulfur. “Make friends with Demons? I could never!” Luke prattled on while his eyes adjusted. After several blinks, MC could see the palace they stood in. The grandeur was almost repulsive. Gold trim and deep red walls. It was the beauty of wealth and statues. 

“I hope you’ll be able to make friends during your stay.” A deep voice said from behind. MC spun around, and then had to crane their head upward to see who was there. His broad smile was so warm that it clashed with the royal regalia the man was dressed in. The red jacket  with a medallion on the shoulder. MC scrunched their nose, wondering why Hell would choose to continue earths obsession with war decoration. “Thank you for joining us.” The Man continued, and he bowed his head to the Angels. “I am Lord Diavolo, Prince of the Devildom. As well as the head of the exchange program.”

“Thank you for having us,” Simeon smiles as he walks over to the prince. Without hesitation, the two embrace in a familiar hug. 

“I’m just so happy the program worked.” Diavolo rubs the back of his neck. “The humans will be coming this evening. So I’ll be able to help you all settle in and still make it for the humans.” Simeon and Diavolo continued to talk about details. Mainly the excitement over the humans. While Luke looked on with a fury. 

“I can’t believe Simeon is being so familiar with the Demon Lord.” Luke crossed his arms. “We cannot befriend the enemy.”

“Yah.. Enemy.” Mc can feel something tighten in their stomach. Instead of processing that, the angel turns to look about the palace a little more. Now that they knew what the Prince looked like. Some portraits on the walls made more sense. The one that caught the angel’s eye was of a young Diavolo. He stood alone in a field of red. A skull of a dragon under his foot, and a toy left in the distant background. It had been commissioned to show the great power Diavolo had ever as a child. Unintentionally, it spoke some truth. A small child alone in a field. Left with death at his feet. 

“I won’t be able to be around much in your day to day, I’m afraid.” Diavolo was now standing to face the whole group. So MC turned their attention back to the conversation. “But I do want to do my best to keep your stay in my realm as comfortable as possible. If there is anything we can do, please let us know.”

“Is there a way we can go back?” Luke asks with great seriousness.

“Luke!” Simeon gasps. 

“That is what would make me most comfortable,” Luke huffs and crosses his arms. 

“Luke, you can’t just-.” Simeon rubs the space between his brow.

“It’s fine,” Diavolo shrugs it off. “We all process homesickness in our own way. The spell to move between heaven and hell is a powerful one. So we truly won't be able to do this till next year, but if there is anything else we can do. Do ask and I will try to accommodate. Lucifer should be here soon, and he will bring you to your dormitories. As well as go down the basic rules of staying here.”

“Rules?” Mc asks, finally speaking up. 

“Not much but briefly - Michael requested that you three still follow your codes, but there is no way for them to actually check.” Diavolo puts a hand on his chest. “One of our realms defining features is that your god’s awareness cannot reach here. So the rules you must follow are the rules of the devildom and whatever you personally value. Our rules you’ll find are much more lax.” Luke gasps in horror, but excitement only brewed within MC.

Two men in uniform walk into the Palace hall. One walks directly to Lord Diavolo’s side. Dark hair falling into a shock of green that followed framed half his face. They were stiff and despite the collected look. MC could see the anxiety running through their spine. The other kept a distance from the Angels. A cool dark look, judging each of them openly. 

“My Lord we must be going.”

“I don’t have any more time?” Diavolo’s face falls. 

“No, your next meeting has already begun.” They kept their voice rather calm, but their eyebrow twitched. 

“Alright,” Diavolo sighs, but turns back to the angels quickly. “I truly hope you enjoy your stay in the Devildom. It’s an honor to have you here.” With that, Diavolo is ushered away. 

“Now who could that brooding gentleman be,” Simeon was once again walking up to the strange demon. Though the man looked as disagreeable as before. He did let Simeon hug him. Only adjusting his jacket the moment he was free. 

“You know who I am,” 

“I am asking for the children,” Simeon looks back to Luke and MC. While Luke gets all huffy about their age. MC is truly an adult by the fact that they can just roll their eyes and get over it. 

“My name is Lucifer,” He bow slightly to the three angels. “Avatar of Pride, and right hand to Lord Diavolo. When you need his help, come to me.” Lucifer sharpens his gaze on MC. “Diavolo is very busy, and I would prefer you to bother me than him.” Then his glare moved to Luke. Who paled and shuffled towards Simeon. “Now, if you will follow me. I’ll lead you to your housing for the year.” Lucifer walked briskly out of the Palace. “ Compared to the celestial realm, the Devildom functions much more like earth. The city is based on a money exchange. We will provide a small allowance once a month, but if you want to indulge, you’ll have to get a job.” Lucifer says all of this while walking briskly out of the Palace. Luke grumbles about nearly having to run, and MC has to fight back a laugh. “If you stay within the Devildom your life will be remarkably like that on earth. With a key distinction that there will be demons who lust for your blood every so often, and there is no sun.” Lucifer swung open the front door of the palace. Exposing the dark courtyard beyond, and the block void of the sky. Illuminated on the horizon was The Devildom. The glowing sector of Hell where Demons and spirits lived their personal lives. It glowed beautifully, and illuminated the Palace like a setting sun. 

Normally, this effect was made greater by the fact that the courtyards had no lights. If one was to see, it was their own gift, or from the light of the city. The angels broke this by having their own innate glow. Casting warm shadows against the cool nature of hell. Lucifer glanced at the glow with mild annoyance. Normally, the walk from the palace to the road was his moment of peace. Now each step he was reminded about the great task this year would be.

“To help with the exchange, we have enrolled you three in the local university. There you can learn about how the systems of hell truly function, as well as our magical training programs. We have some of the most skilled magic users training with us.” Part of Diavolo’s plan was to show what Hell was truly worth. The eons didn’t pass without change, and under Diavolo that change was being brought to its most refined point. Lucifer himself had led many of the projects to start translating Hell’s data into deeper means of understanding… Books with narrative instead of strings of numbers or archaic runes. 

“So you won’t be making us torture humans?” Luke snaps. 

“Only if you want to.” Lucifer doesn’t even look back to Luke. He knew enough about the little angel to know it would start on a rant if provoked. He was already battling a headache and couldn’t stand the thought of being lectured by a child. 

“I could never!” Luke brings his hand to his chest.

“Then you won’t.” 

“What will we be learning then?” MC asks. 

“Standard education for someone new to our system. History of the Devildom, Grimm economics, Devildom literature, Alchemy and potions 101, art, athletics,” Lucifer twirls a hand around. “The basics,”

“Oh that sounds… Fun” MC grimaces.

“Did you come here to have fun?” Lucifer glances back at the angel. 

“So what if I did?” MC tries to be defensive, but can’t help cracking into a smile. It was rather funny seeing the confused look on Lucifer’s face. 

“MC! We are not here to have fun, we have to learn and do as much research for our arch-”

“I know Luke,” MC groans. “We’re allowed to have Some fun.”

“Indeed,” Lucifer nods. “None of the classes should take all your time, so you’ll be able to have your own time. If you want to explore the Devildom please go in pairs. While you have Diavolo’s blessing, not all demons listen to authority. There is no promising what a rogue demon would do to a lone angel.” 

MC scrunches up their face, which makes Simeon laugh. Meanwhile, Luke is actually trembling. 

“Oh Luke, you look like a scared puppy.” Simeon tries to keep his voice sympathetic, but the hint of laughter is clear. 

“A little chihuahua,” Lucifer smiles. 

“I am not a chihuahua!” Luke shrieks! 

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

Purgatory Hall was a lot more comfortable than MC had expected. The interior was surprisingly bright and cozy. Though still favoring the overly ornate and plush. MC was wandering aimlessly through the halls. Luke was still hurt from the chihuahua incident by the time they were done getting situated. So Simeon had taken Luke out to get something sweet to make up for it. While at the time, MC had said they wanted to stay here and explore the house. They were now realizing that was a foolish choice. After looking in the rooms once,  MC was more than satisfied with exploring the house. So now they were draped across the couch. Flipping idly through their D.D.D. When MC opens the messages to pulls up Lucifer.

“You said I shouldn’t go out by myself. Simeon and Luke are often a pair without me. I could just risk it?” Dots appear quickly.

“No, let me find you a guide.” 

Lucifer leaned back. Thinking about which of his brothers, he wants to make baby sit an angel. No one who might find it enjoyable like Asmo or Beel. He already planned on having Mammon for the human...

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

“Satan, would you be a guide for one of the Angel exchange students?”

“Are you actually asking me?” Satan looks over the top of his reading glasses.” Or are you just telling me in a passive manner.”

“It’s not passive,” Lucifer crosses his arms.” Answer my question.”

“No,” Satan leaned back into his chair. Lifting his book up to block Lucifer from view. 

“You are just saying that because I am asking you.”

“Yes,” Satan smiles. 

“Which is why I am going to make you do it.” Lucifer smiles back. “I think it will be an informative experience for you.” 

“Informative?” Satan can feel the fires in his stomach boiling over, but his keeps his composure calm. It was centuries of practice. “As if I don’t hear enough about the celestial realm from you?”

“You hear our side of it, and now you can learn another.” Lucifer looks so sure of his convictions that it made Satan want to lift his chair and throw it through a wall. Instead, he took a deep breath for seven seconds and let it out in ten. 

“How do you intend on making me do this?” Satan propped his elbow on the armchair, and then his head in his hand. 

“I will tell Diavolo you refused to use your strength and knowledge to help his exchange program. If the angels are to learn the best qualities of Hell. Who is better informed than you? No harm would come to that angel with you near.” Lucifer has pride in many things. Not just himself, and that was one of his worst qualities. The way he looked at Satan with such knowing. Then how it could vanish into cold apathy. “It’s lazy work, really. You could have an audiobook in your ear if you truly needed it.”

Satan looked from Lucifer and down to the floor. Then he switched which way he was leaning in the chair. Fidgeting as he thought. Trying to find a way to accept that he will have to do this. Without having to agree with Lucifer. 

“Fine, I don’t want to be lectured by Diavolo as well as you.” Satan begins to read his book again. “When do I start?”

“Now, they want to explore.” Lucifer’s face was full of mirth. If Satan showed that he was irritated, that would only play into what He wanted. So Satan sighed as he picked up the bookmark and wedges it in. 

“The angels will be living in Purgatory hall, correct?” At least Satan could show he’d be competent in the task. 

“Indeed.  MC is an Angel a little younger than you and will not know what to expect in the Devildom.”

“That we’re not all monsters or that monster’s still exist?” Satan slowly took of his glasses. Cleaning the lenses before tucking them away. 

“Bit of both. Which you’re a perfect example of. ” Lucifer ignore the scowl that rips across Satan’s face. Instead, tapping his watch. “They asked me for a guide an hour ago, so I would appreciate it if we could hurry up.” Satan stands up and again takes a deep breath. Then many more. A deep breath each step of the way to purgatory hall. Asmo was hanging out in the hallway, but the moment they saw Satan. Asmo found an excuse to leave. 

It was right up to the moment that Satan knocked on the door. That’s when he took one final breath and let the tension fall from his shoulders. Suddenly the portrait of composure with a grace in his eye. The door opened easily, and there stood MC. Satan was shocked to see that, despite being an angel. They had changed out of any holy robes and into something more comfortable. There wasn’t the annoying level of arrogance Satan had come to expect. Off to a good start, it would seem. 

“Hello, My name is Satan. Lucifer sent me to be your guide.” Satan bowed slightly and smiled brightly as he stood up. His green eyes were glowing with genuine warmth. 

“Oh, awesome,” MC rocked back on their heels. “I don’t really know where to go. I just want to see… stuff?” MC shrugs and smiles sheepishly. Satan felt something new in his chest. This Angel was genuinely curious about the Devildom. 

“I know lots of lovely spots. Do you want some history or a bit of culture?” Satan raises a brow. Looking at MC as if they were co conspirators on some great plan. MC’s heart pick up the pace. 

“Why not both?”

“Good choice,” Satan offers an elbow to the Angel. With flushed cheeks, the Angel accepts. “A friend of mine commissioned a new branch in the museum nearby. It’s full of artifacts that were destroyed by invades. Now in the Devildom we can restore the artifacts and get first-hand facts on the culture.”

“An accurate history or ones written by victors?”

“Accurate, of course,” Satan looks almost offended. “We are not on any side of humanities battles.”

“You like their military regalia.”

“I don’t. Those in charge think it’s pretty.” Satan rolls his eyes. “One part of hell is under strict authority, and another is nearly pure anarchy.”

“Anarchy with demons must get interesting.” MC tries not to giggle. “I have the image of Demons fighting to create and making utter chaos.”

“You’re close, just throw in some packs working together, and rogues wandering around the city trying to push their chaos were ever. The principles of anarchy aren’t too bad, actually. I’ve read the literature, but in practice with magic beings, too many hot heads can ruin it for the rest.” 

“There’s so many rules in Heaven,” MC sighs and rocks their head back. “Anarchy sounds terrifying, but also refreshing? If that makes sense.”

“It does,” Satan nods. “What sort of rules does heaven have?”

“Well, the rules of angels and people are different.” Satan nods instead of saying, Obviously. “For angels, we literally have a mandated outfit. Can’t wear anything but the one holy look. We cannot stray remotely close to any sins, and must keep peace at all times. Which isn’t difficult with 1000 of human souls all wanting their own ideal conflicting paradise.” MC tenses with the anger, and then lets it slide out. “Sorry about that-”

“Don’t apologize,” Satan squeezes the Angel’s arm a little. “You got more than the right to be annoyed with such treatment. Speak what you feel.” MC looks up at Satan with bright eyes. 

“If I have to sing in another chores for God, I will scream.”

“You should! Screaming is cathartic.” The talk the whole way to the museum and through it. Both have more than enough to say, and genuinely want to hear the other. Satan has carefully made opinions and seems to be educated in every topic under the sun. The Niches of thing MC thinks of Satan can keep up with. He also seems to have causes at least half of the wars which destroyed the artifacts now on display. “Alexander was rather easy to manipulate,” Satan hums. “Just had to bat my eyes at him and ask if that’s what he really wanted. He would be up for anything after that.” Satan can’t keep back his mischievous grin. 

“Did you… Seduce Alexander the Great?”

“And helped kill him.” Satan smiles proudly. “He was an asshole, but fun to play with it.” Now Satan looks off with a distance in his eyes. Clearly lost in the past, where he could saunter about Rome. Arm and Arm with a brutal conquer. 

“How often do you accompany brutal killers?” MC asks with a sharp look. 

“This is where our working on opposite sides could come to a point,” Satan chuckles. “I am the avatar of wrath. I accompany most of the greatest killers. Push them to indulge just a bit more. If not me, one of my many underlings is probably there.”

“Funny,” MC says with a rather serious face. “I haven’t been given a title yet, but I spent the last century working with the angels in the peace department.”

“Oh that is some hard work,” Satan looks over to the Angel. MC had been prepared for Satan to look annoyed, but instead he looked more impressed. “Humans are so easy to manipulate with their emotions. Peace is going against their instincts.” By now, Satan and MC had entered the museum. Other demons milled about. Quickly commenting on the pieces of history elegantly on display. The explanations that come with each piece are at best wordy paragraphs. At worst, there is an essay attached. MC is saved from any reading by having Satan in toe. He knows all the information backwards and forwards, and the fact he’s more curious about the Angel. Saves MC from having to sit through lecture after lecture. Satan pauses to breath, and to hear the Angel’s own thoughts.

----- Rest of the museum date will be finished if people show interest in it.

A/N: Thank you for reading! If you have any requests for what Angel MC get’s up to feel free to ask! If people actually like this I’ll writing more parts consistently. If not more will just come as I feel like it.

#my writing #gn!mc #Gn!Mc x obey me #gn!MC x Satan #obey me! #Angel MC! #Angel MC! Obey me #fanfiction #writing #Obey me! Satan #Obey me! Lucifer #Obey me! Simeon #Obey me! Luke #Obey me! Diavolo

[legends-live-in-memories]

Cut You Down to Size

AYO its Day 1 of the MGI Trope Tussle! I’m representing Team Enemies-to-Lovers! Lets Get It!

Fics Masterlist

Damigami 5.5K words Oneshot, no warnings apply

Summary:

Alfred signs Damian up for his school's fencing club. There he meets a red clad demon with a sabre.

Day 1 prompt: My name is unimportant— you, tyrant, will die today by my blade.

without further ado:

This was stupid. Damian could not understand Pennyworth’s logic behind signing him up for his school’s fencing club. He was a trained assassin, studying under the world’s greatest swordsmen, and no one at his school would be able to keep up with him. He was miles ahead in terms of technique and experience. So why on earth would he subject himself to this asinine, idle waste of time on a Saturday?

“Remember, young master, it is important to your father that you enjoy hobbies more suitable for others your age. All your other siblings have activities to distract them from the eccentricities of their nighttime activities.” Right, that’s why. Pennyworth spoke as if he were reminding an imbecile how to not walk into oncoming traffic and his tone grated on Damian’s nerves. “Don’t pout, Master Damian, it is unbecoming. Besides, it would make your father proud if you were able to blend in with other teens.”

He most definitely was not pouting but he could agree that making his father proud and not compromising their identities were important. His weary sigh was the only answer he gave to Pennyworth before stepping out of the car and entering the school gym. He squared his shoulders and adjusted the gym bag before striding to the gathering of other students on the mats. They were all in varying degrees of proper white fencing gear, a sharp contrast to Damian’s black uniform. He stood off the side, waiting for the instructor and pointedly ignoring the stares of the other students. Their attention was meaningless and Damian hoped they wouldn’t turn his presence into some spectacle.

The minutes ticked by, and his patience withering away with it, before the gym’s double doors were booming open. In walked the club’s instructor followed by what looked like another school’s club and instructor trailing behind her. Damian counted at least ten students, white uniforms perfectly in place with their array of masks tucked under their arms. However, one of those students caught his eye. The striking red uniform stood out against everyone else’s and the square to their shoulders spoke of confidence not unlike his own. A small part of Damian wonders if any of that confidence was well earned but the larger part of him knew that regardless of how good they thought they were, they were still no match for him.

“Good afternoon, everyone!” The crisp voice of his instructor echoed in the now silent gym as she commanded everyone’s attention. She looked rather pleased with herself and continued to speak, addressing the Gotham students. “As you can see here, I have a visiting school’s club with me, so please join me in welcoming Francois Dupont’s fencing club, who have come all the way from Paris to practice with us.”

A half hearted applause was all the reaction she got and it was at that point that Damian tuned out the rest of her introduction. His mind had wandered to less menial things, waiting for his time to show his more than impressive skills.

He was brought out of his musings by the shrill of a whistle and was staring face to face to a rather short girl from the French club. She was looking up at him with wide blue eyes before darting away to look over the other students pairing up. Her eyes had focused on a tall blond and his Gotham partner and Damian swore he saw her swoon. Great, a scatter-brained lovesick fool was his first partner. Clearly the universe was punishing him for transgressions he was not privy to. Before he could pass further judgment on his partner, she peered back to him and spoke in soft English.

“Hi, my name is Marinette. Nice to meet you!” She tried to sound confident but her awkwardness betrayed her and the hunch in her shoulders were telling. Alfred had taught him some manners, however, so rather than ignore her as he was wont to do, he greeted her with his name and ended the conversation there. She looked ready to speak again but was cut off by another harsh blow from the whistle.

“Alright, everyone. This is just a warm-up match. Nothing too fancy and remember the rules.” The French instructor’s accent was thick and he spoke with equal robustness to match the Gotham instructor. The two made quite the pair.

He faced his partner again and put enough space between them. They both put on their masks and were poised at the ready. Her pose was amateurish but definitely better than the others he’s caught in his periphery. The cry of ‘en garde’ sounded and Damian did not hesitate to try and score a point. Emphasis on ‘try.’ While if this were a real duel Damian would have won with no hesitation, he found that he didn’t need to hold back as much as he would if she were some of his classmates. Her technique was still sloppy but at least she showed potential.

The warm-up ended with Damian scoring three points in succession but there were, admittedly, some close calls. Next, they were rotating partners and Damian was partnered off with the blond from earlier. This close, Damian faintly recognized his face and verbalized as such. The sheepish scratch behind the blond’s neck was unexpected as was the declaration that he was a fashion model back in Paris. Adrien Agreste the boy had said. Damian then chalked up his previous partner’s behaviour to nothing more than to a silly celebrity crush. No further thought was put into their dynamics as the call for positions was announced.

This duel went slightly differently than Damian had expected. Like his previous partner, Agreste was much better than first impressions would suggest. While his previous partner had poor technique with intuition to back her up, Agreste had acceptable technique with his own personal twist. Agreste backed each strike with an edge that spoke of more roguish practice. It was almost entertaining but still no match for Damian superior skills. Perhaps he could convince his father to send him to Paris for the summer if this was the kind of students the city produced. This duel ended in three points in Damian’s favour as well but he conceded a point to Agreste who got a lucky strike in. Both boys took off their masks and shook hands as a five minute break was called. As Damian turned to reach for his water bottle on the bench, Agreste approached him with a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“I saw your match with Marinette,” he spoke with nothing short of excitement and slight wonder. “She’s new to the club but she’s a quick learner. I’m glad she joined and she seemed to enjoy warming up with you! What do you think?”

Huh.

Maybe Agreste was the adoring fan in their dynamic. Any more brightly, and the boy’s green eyes would be sparkling like fireworks as he continued to wax poetics about the short girl. That of which got annoying pretty quickly.

Another whistle, that French coach was rather annoying with the damn thing, was blown and the students made their way back to the mats. A new rotation was called and Damian was finally paired with the red fencer who caught his eye earlier. In contrast to his previous partners, this one stared at him with poorly hidden, yet unprovoked, contempt. The furrow in her brows and slight downturn in her lips was a mirror to Damian’s own expression. The air between them was charged as they both assessed each other. Neither spoke but neither was paying detailed attention to the instructors. Issuing a silent challenge, Damian tilted his head back to stare the shorter girl down by the tip of his nose, smirking at her increasingly furrowed expression. He scoffed at her as the call for putting on their masks was issued.

“Damian,” he said at last, getting into the starting position.

“My name is unimportant— you, tyrant, will die today by my blade.”

Not even Damian’s brothers were that theatrical; his sister? Maybe. And perhaps Todd, but that’s irrelevant. Was she for real or was this a taunt that got lost in translation? Just who was she? From an outsider’s perspective, the two of them painted quite an interesting picture, posed in their black and red uniforms, a vision against the whites of their clubmates. The air was rich with their slowly growing disdain for each other. The instructor’s voice of ‘en garde’ was drowned out by their hurried movements.

It didn’t take long for Damian to deduce that his opponent was undoubtedly the best of the French group. Her moves were punctuated with needle-like precision and each attack was laced with slowly growing malice at the challenge. Damian didn’t have to hold back nearly as much as he had, once again, underestimated his opponent. There’s a lesson to be learned here but he would never give Pennyworth that satisfaction. The butler’s smug grin and echoed voice of ‘you are not nearly as infallible as you believe, Master Damian’ arose in his mind and the irritation at the notion was channelled directly into his current duel. He struck out with more aggression than he initially had intended to but, as it had put his opponent on the defensive, he wasn’t going to rear his anger in. Instead, he let it fuel his movements more, pushing his opponent off the mat as they danced across the floor.

This only spurred his nameless opponent on more as she matched him strike for strike in equal aggression. Damian wasn’t sure if it was due to his sudden tunnel vision but he could have sworn that the world narrowed to only the two of them, the clash of their weapons being the only sound he could hear. Time faded into nothing and all his focus was on parrying and attacking and lunging and parrying again in a vicious cycle. Points were earned back and forth but no time was called in between to award either of them. This wasn’t a match for points. This was war. A battle to the death issued by the red demon before him. She was no longer just a practice partner or an aggravating opponent. This was his enemy now. Damian would not fail. Damian Wayne doesn’t lose after all.

The shrill of a whistle had the two freezing in place. Giving himself a few seconds to collect himself, Damian felt as if he was coming out of a haze. He watched as the red fencer before him relaxed her posture and turned to face the French coach. Taking off his mask and catching his breath, he noticed that the two of them held the collective attention of the two clubs.

“Now THAT is fencing!” The French coach’s boisterous voice echoed in the gym and was accompanied by his harsh clapping. His two previous practice partners were equally as enthusiastic but subdued in their applause, sporting matching grins at the red fencer. Damian could only glare at the students, refusing to acknowledge his opponent.

The rest of practice went on as such for the next hour but none of the other French fencers captivated him like the first three. They must have had private tutors as they were obviously a cut above the rest. Practice ended without much fanfare and Damian found himself waiting for Pennyworth outside the school gates as the French class were loading their bus. He only caught the tail end of the slight murmurs of conversation but Damian caught the Agreste boy referring to the red fencer as Kagami. Hmm.

Pennyworth pulled up shortly after and once he was inside the vehicle, Pennyworth didn’t hesitate to question him about the experience.

“There was a visiting French club. They were lackluster and struggled to keep up with me even with me holding back.” He refused to look the old man in the eye, glancing a knowing smirk on his aged face. “Three of them showed promise. But I was still superior in every way.”

“Well then, I hope they didn’t tire you out completely. I believe we are expecting some of those same French students over for dinner this afternoon.”

“Pardon?” Damian could not be bothered to compose his irritation at Pennyworth’s brazen declaration. Why was he just learning about this now? “Any idea who exactly will be joining us?”

“I believe Madame Dupain-Cheng, Madame Tsurugi and Mister Agreste all agreed.” Agreste? The model boy. Damian was willing to bet that Dupain-Cheng was the short girl from the warm-up as the two seemed fond of each other. That would probably make Tsurugi his red opponent, Kagami. But that begs the question why they were invited to dinner. Schooling his expression and gaining some more composure, Damian addressed the butler again.

“Any reason why those students in particular?” Aiming for an aura of nonchalance, he continued. “It’s quite the coincidence as those were the three French students I mentioned showing promise. Why were they invited?”

Pennyworth saw right through him and casted a humoured glance at his reflection in the rearview mirror.

“Oh, I would say that Madame Tsurugi shows more than just promise, Master Damian. She is an Olympic hopeful after all.” That… That makes sense Damian supposes. It would definitely explain her confidence and skill. But she still irritated him.

“And what of the other two?”

“Those two would be Madame Tsurugi’s closest friends. Their club is here on a Wayne Foundation sponsorship and your father personally invited Madame Tsurugi to dinner.” Pennyworth paused as he turned into the manor gates. “She and her mother agreed to the invitation on the condition that the young lady’s friends be invited as well. I see they have left quite the impression on you.”

“They require further judgement,” and the conversation died there.

Ignoring the crowd of his siblings upon entering the manor, Damian went straight for his room to research more on his new rival and company.

After two hours of constant research, he was reluctant to admit that the three were rather accomplished in their own rights, and that he had completely misjudged them. Dupain-Cheng was a talented baker and designer and was indeed a fast learner, only officially being in the fencing club for two months. She was also in a new relationship with Agreste. That explains the sappiness and nauseating shower of compliments. Agreste himself was a budding pianist on top of his modelling and fencing prowess. He even featured in some gigs by a local popular band. Tsurugi was more than just an Olympic hopeful, coming from a famous line of fencers and kendo masters back in Japan. She has a roster of competitions won and is currently holding three world titles for her age group. He supposes that that’s quite impressive. But it still doesn’t supersede his training. Would it be improper to challenge her to another duel when she arrives? Probably.

Checking the time, he realized there was forty minutes until dinner and only ten until the three guests arrived. He freshened up his appearance and changed out of his fencing gear into more appropriate attire. He headed down to the foyer to wait with his siblings in greeting their guests. Cain stood next to him and gave him a quick once-over glance. She didn’t say anything but her giggles did not bode well for Damian.

The door was being held open as their three guests walked in and they all wore matching expressions of surprise as their gaze landed on Damian. They greeted his father and each of his siblings, exchanging quick hello’s before the Agreste boy regarded Damian.

“Hey! You’re that guy from the fencing club.” All eyes were on Damian in an instant, his siblings wearing various ranges of delight.

“Yes, he is that guy from the fencing club. Tell us everything,” Todd interjected. He swung a casual arm around Agreste and began herding them further into the manor towards the drawing room. Before Damian can begin to preserve his reputation, Todd and Agreste were already in deep conversation with random input from Dupain-Cheng and Grayson. Tsurugi hung back from the herd and was thanking his father for the invitation. Her calm, withdrawn voice was very different from the scorn she was showering him with during their duel. She caught him staring at her and just ignored him, brushing past him to follow quickly behind the others. He caught his father’s eye and regarded the man silently. Even when maintaining public appearances, his father never did anything without reason. So what was the value in inviting some French kids his company was sponsoring? Olympic grade or not, it was still uncharacteristically more involved than other other company sponsorships in the past.

What was his father’s angle here?

He hoped it didn’t involve playing nice with Tsurugi because her frigid disposition is more trouble than it’s worth. The karma is not lost on him.

Entering the drawing room, he walks into the middle of Agreste illustrating the nature of his duel against Tsurugi. He added unnecessary flourish, making the match seem more grandiose than it really was. He would deny any and all effort exerted as that was a sign of weakness. Damian was not weak.

“I’ll have you know,” he began, collecting their undivided attention, again. “The match with Tsurugi was child’s play. I only entertained her for so long because I thought she could provide some real competition. Clearly, I was mistaken,” he said, like a liar.

“I am more than just competition.” Tsurugi had stood from her place on the sofa to try and face him on even ground. She was still shorter than him but the intimidation was rolling off her in waves. “I will prove to you that I am a worthy opponent.”

That was an invitation for a rematch if Damian’s ever heard one. As he was about to accept the challenge, Pennyworth entered with an announcement of dinner, guiding everyone into the appropriate dining room. His siblings rushed for various seats, splitting up their guests and mixing them in with their chaos. The seating arrangement his siblings had orchestrated had him sitting directly across from the current bane of his existence. The two regarded each other silently, trapped in their own quiet bubble separate from the ruckus of the table.

The dinner was wonderful, as usual, and conversation was as normal as this family was capable of. Except for the intense staring contest he was engaged in with his enemy. She was civil, cordial even, with the rest of the family, sharing jokes with Cain and Thomas with no issue and handled Todd’s annoyance with grace but she couldn’t get a reign on her disdain for Damian. He faintly noticed her two friends exchange curious glances with each other. He paid them no mind; his attention lying elsewhere.

“So, Kagami,” Drake’s voice cut through the loud atmosphere, silencing the table. “You mentioned earlier that you will prove to Damian that you’re a worthy opponent. How do you plan to go about that?” He tried to go for casual but he failed and Damian knew he was doing it just to get a reaction out of him.

“A battle to the death of course,” she was quick with her reply and her tone had no hints of humor. She means every word of that statement. Equal expressions of shock were on his family’s faces, no one knowing what to say. A distasteful snort from the blond cut through the air.

“Kagami,” her friend, Dupain-Cheng, had cut in with a slight chuckle, “I don’t think they know you’re joking.”

“My apologies, then.” Her lips were curled in a faint smirk and then she said, “While I initially had all intentions to contest his false assessment, over the course of the dinner, I have concluded that he is someone not worth the effort.” She took a sip of her drink, completely ignoring the uproar of taunts and jeers his siblings threw his way.

Damian was not going to take that insult sitting down.

“That’s it, Tsurugi,” he rose from his seat, the scrape of the chair on the hardwood floors hushing the peanut gallery. “You wanted a duel, I’ll give you a duel. A clash of swords seems fitting, don’t you think?” He felt quite satisfied with himself, so much so he was completely ignorant to the whispers of his siblings with their guests. His attention was solely on the red demon.

“While I can’t persuade you both from not doing this,” his father’s tired voice was firm and imposing; he looked like he’s aged a few years since the start of the evening, “I must insist on using only the wooden practice swords you have. No real blades allowed. Am I understood?”

It wasn’t really a question as there was no room for refutation but Damian was grateful his father didn’t try to put a stop to the entire thing anyways. A challenge was issued and Damian was going to see it through.

After Pennyworth cleared the table and set about doing other chores, they made their way to the manor’s gym with the exclusion of his father. A mat was already laid out and he went to retrieve the practice swords. They were fashioned to mimic his katana and the familiar weight was comfortable in his grip. Tsurugi was surveying the wooden blade and assessing the balance of the handle before setting into a comfortable starting stance. They weren’t bound by fencing rules this time and he felt the lack of restrictions to be freeing. Grayson had declared himself ring master and was counting down to start them off. Drake was holding a camera, most likely recording, and Todd was conspiring with Dupain-Cheng and Thomas in the corner. Agreste and Cain were observing like normal people—Damian failed to see them silently exchange some cash— and he ignored them all to focus on the foe before him.

Grayson’s call for ‘go’ set them off like steam engines, their swords crashing into each other in heavy strikes. Using his advantageous size, Damian pushed back and swiped for her legs. She blocked the attack, sword intercepting his, swinging her back leg behind her to kick at his chest. He recoiled at the contact and the pressure of her boots before aiming a broad sweep over head, bringing his arms down in a wide arc. She blocks that as well, but was brought down to a knee, all her focus in holding her blade across the palm of hand. She pushes against his force and rolls under his blade, tucking herself into a ball before uncurling behind him. Her next strike is aimed for his back but Damian is quick on the defensive and knocks her blade away before stepping into her space. His shoulder clips her chin and he takes the opportunity to elbow her below her chest. He swings around to strike her down but she ducks and swipes at his legs. He jumps over the arc of her blade but isn’t prepared for the kick in his chest as he lands.

He steps back a couple paces to get air back in his lungs as Tsurugi gains her own bearings. They’re both breathing heavily and the gym is silent save for Todd’s inappropriate wolf-whistle. Ignoring him, as usual, he focuses back on his opponent. On the subtle rise and fall of her shoulders, her lean but firm arms holding the sword out pointing at him. Her short bob is in disarray and her brown eyes burn into him like molten lava. Her stare is intense and almost freezes him completely in place.

A second ticks by. Then another. The entire room feels like a stifled exhale, cautious not to disturb the fragile atmosphere. The energy is broken by a charge from Tsurugi as she strikes across his chest, colliding with his blade. Their swords are crossed and they both lean into the push, faces mere inches apart as they try to get the upper hand. Neither was budging, willing to submit to the other.

Damian found himself revelling in the intense focus of her gaze. Even growing up in the League, his mentors always held back, not wanting to accidentally kill their master’s heir. His siblings were no better, always underestimating him, never taking his challenges seriously. But Tsurugi? She matched him blow for blow without hesitation. Without fear and without judgement. The lack of threat of death hanging over him made the fight that much more enjoyable. If he were anymore focused on his own expression, he would have found a smile, not a smirk or a half-hearted grimace, but an honest-to-god smile. A grin even.

Tipping the fight in his favour, he aims a kick to Tsurugi’s knee, and turns out of their lock of swords. Feeling emboldened, he takes to taunting his opponent.

“You know, you are a lot better than I thought you would be,” he swings his sword around aimlessly, waiting for her to get up again. “But you’re still no match for me.”

Rather than respond, Tsurugi swipes up at him, both hands on her sword hilt, in a broad arc. Her body follows through with the motion, with her back leg sweeping the floor gently, her back to him by the end. Damian sees the opportunity and lunges to attack her now open back. He’s almost flushed against her with his sword about to press into the curve of her spine except his swing is intercepted by his opponent's block. She had anticipated his move and swung her arms over her head, carrying the blade behind her to protect her. Damian’s blood runs white hot with the shame of falling for her feint. Still held in this position, Tsurugi casts a smirk over her shoulder, head tilted back towards his chest. The position, with the exception of their swords, has them appearing to be in a dance, with his partner—no, opponent— ready to be spun out in a graceful turn.

“Are you sure?” her voice was rough with exertion and tainted with glee, “You seem to have failed to gain any substantial upperhand.” She kicks back into his shin and then steps out of his space, spinning under her arms, keeping her sword against his. Now facing him directly, Damian can see the fire shining in her brown eyes, ablaze with excitement and ferocity.

“Don’t think yourself so high and mighty,” he started to step to his right, trying to prepare for another attack but she matched him in moves and now they were slowly circling each other.

“Ironic coming from you, I’m sure.” Her tone was flat but her eyes glimmered with amusement. Her blade shifted ever so subtly, pointing further down Damian’s body, aimed directly for his stomach. Damian takes a chance and steps into her space, left arm gradually inching towards her sword hilt. Using his longer legs, he sweeps one under her stance, hooking his ankle around hers.

It happens in slow motion. Or at least, it felt like it did. He’s bringing his leg back towards himself, knocking her off center, balancing on an unsteady leg. He’s grabbed her sword hilt and is pushing her arms and the sword above her head while his own sword slides to place against her throat. He pushes further into her space, leaning over her and bending her back, almost chest to chest, nose to nose with his sword in the breath between them. Their precarious position cants them completely off balance and she’s fallen with him on top of her. Her arms are pinned firmly above her now, her grip on her sword long forgotten, and Damian’s weight is balanced on his knees, preserving any dignity he has left. They’re still so close to each other, the weight of his blade gingerly pressing into the lines of her neck. Her head is tilting back, a futile attempt to escape him and once she acknowledges that, Damian can feel the muscles in her arms relax beneath his vice-like grip. They’re staring at each other, and Damian finds himself not wanting to look away.

Oh.

Oh.

In his seven years of living with his father’s family, he never understood how his father could casually welcome thieves and assassins into his bed. How his brothers surrounded themselves with people equally dangerous. How his sister would challenge an opponent she knew she couldn’t beat. How they could all flirt with danger and not even question it. Now he understood. It was a heady rush, like a freefall without certainty of a parachute or a net. It was an addictive type of excitement to come face to face with someone who doesn’t look at him with fear but with equal competition. He could get used to this.

A click of a camera shutter and Pennyworth’s attention-grabbing ‘ahem’ brought him out of his own head. He saw Tsurugi blink herself out of a similar daze and look towards her friends. Finally registering their compromising position, Damian began to extract himself from her. Now standing, and trying to tidy his appearance, he tossed his wooden sword to the side and extended a hand out to the still lying girl.

“I win,” he says, and the taunt falls flat even to his own ears. He clears his throat and tries again. “You are a decent opponent. It was an honor to go against someone of your caliber.”

She accepts his offered hand and as he’s pulling her up, she takes the opportunity to pull him in closer.

“I admit defeat,” her eyes are still intense but softens as she continues speaking, “and there is clearly more I can learn from you. The club is in Gotham for two more weeks for the competition next week. I am willing to have you as my teacher if you accept.”

A pretty pink blush colours her cheeks and Damian can feel his face match hers in intensity. Before he could answer her, her blond friend interrupts them, cutting into their little bubble.

“That means she’s asking you on a date.” His hands are cupping his mouth like a megaphone and he stage whispers for all their captive audience to hear. “Say yes.”

His siblings are eyeing between him and the French teens like they’re spectating an interesting tennis match. Not given the chance to answer, again, Cain replies for him.

“He says yes. Next Friday, after school.” Her reply is curt but the curl of her lips illustrates her delight in the entire situation. His cheeks are even warmer now and he still hasn’t stepped out of Tsurugi’s space and were they always standing this close?

Looking back to Tsurugi he sees that her attention is still on the others and her face is graced with a gentle smile.

“I accept your offer,” her head swivels back to him as he speaks, and there is a slight glimmer to her eyes, hope dancing in pools of warm chocolate. “If your friend was right about your true intentions, then I accept that offer. There is a lot I could learn from you as well.”

“Yes, and I am also available on Friday if your sister is to be believed.” Her hushed voice is drowned out by the uproar of his siblings and he catches a glimpse of Dupain-Cheng jumping in place.

“I can’t believe he actually said yes.” Thomas.

“I can’t believe she’s actually into him,” Drake.

“I had good money on him making a fool of himself, shame.” Todd, who then gets elbowed by Grayson. He ignores them all, staring down at the increasingly embarrassed girl before him.

He goes to speak but a pink blur is knocking Tsurugi on the ground in a heap of limbs. They’re giggling and babbles about double dates filter through so he doesn’t worry too much and then a weight settles on his shoulder, surprising him. Agreste had somehow snuck up on him and was patting him in a false sense of comradery.

“Well that was an interesting turn of events. They grow up so fast,” he fake sniffles, wiping nonexistent tears from his eyes. Damian is not fond of the familiar theatrics. “I agree with your siblings, I didn't think you would agree. Especially with the looks of bloody murder you were giving us during practice today.”

He scoffs and lets the subtle accusation roll off his back. Agreste continues as if he weren’t interrupted.

“Clearly you two flirt the same way. Violently.” He’s cut off from speaking as Tsurugi had hit him with one of the discarded swords from her place on the floor.

“At least I don’t hesitate or dance around my intended target like a fool, like you two,” she was pouting but her voice held traces of humour and inside jokes that had Dupain-Cheng whining like a child and Agreste acting all sheepish.

“Yeah, okay, that’s fair but can you blame us?” Agreste went ignored as everyone devolved into laughter at their antics.

Damian chanced a glance at Tsurugi to see her very comfortable with Dupain-Cheng’s weight on top of her, laughing at Agreste’s expense. She must have felt his eyes on her and glance at him shyly, laughter dying to a small smile on her lips.

Damian thought to himself that Friday couldn’t come fast enough.

#maribat #mgi trope tussle #enemies to lovers #damigami #no beta this is war #tumblr do me a solid #dont hide my posts #am i forgetting any tags? #i hope not #i did in fact forget some tags #ml x dc #mlb x dc

[jokertrap-ran]

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Main Story Chapter 2-5: 时间针脚 The Patchwork of Time Translation

“What are you standing around in a stupor for? See a ghost?”

*Light and Night Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *Main story tag will be #For Light and Night

Behind the glass wall were several blurry figures busying around.

MC: This should be Team A's area.

Mya had suddenly called a few minutes ago to give me directions to the place I was supposed to report to.

I ran what I was going to say to everyone, in the form of an introduction, through my head once more before gently clearing my throat and opening the door.

❖☆———————————★❖

MC: Hello everyone, I'm—

Thunk!

The sound of metal heavily hitting the floor cut my words short as the handle of the door completely fell off.

MC: !?

Did I break it? No way! I broke the office's door on my first day here!?

I didn't quite know what to do for a while. One of the figures closest to the door turned slightly around at the noise.

He had a head full of spiky hair, like that of a hedgehog. He didn't spare even a glance at the door handle; instead, his gaze fell directly upon my person. He shot up from the seat of his workstation.

??: Yoooooou!!

MC: Sorry! It wasn't on purpose, I swear!

??: You're the newcomer that's supposed to be coming in today, right? Sister Zheng Lin, we've got an extra hand!

He excitedly yelled at the other end of the office.

This isn't quite turning out like how I imagined it to be...

Summoned by his yell, a plump woman speed-walked towards us. Her smile was friendly, but there was a sort of unconcealable exhaustion marring her features.

Zheng Lin: Hello. Welcome to Team A. I'm the leader, Zheng Lin.

MC: Hello. Um… I accidentally broke your door handle just now… Sorry…

??: Aw, that thing's been dead half a month ago. We just didn't have time to call someone down to fix it. Don't mind it, yeah?

??: C'mere. I'll bring you to your workstation. Your stuff looks pretty heavy. I'll take it for you, yeah?

He enthusiastically takes the office appliances I'd brought in from my hands and continues walking straight ahead.

Zheng Lin: That works too. I'll leave you to bring her around to meet the others then, Brother Mao. I'll come over once I'm finished up here.

I nodded, following after "Brother Mao".

Brother Mao: I'm Mao Ge, but you can call me Brother Mao! The best rock singer among all Designers here!

He grinned, pulling out a chair and gesturing for me to sit. He then magicked out a rag from god-knows-where and quickly gave the table a wipedown.

Brother Mao: You were 2nd place in the contest, right? We all watched the broadcast; it was absolutely brilliant.

Brother Mao: Especially when you chose Director Qi of all people. Boy, that was a killer! How did you dare to pick him?

Brother Mao: Forget his face, even his breath alone is an icy sub-zero.

Brother Mao: Ever seen an iron tree bloom? I'd say even that's slightly more common than seeing Director Qi smile.

Brother Mao: I'm not talking about his cold smiles, of course. We see that way too often.

MC: Eh? … I just thought getting him to review my work was a rare chance that I couldn't pass up on.

Brother Mao: You go, girl! Looks like we've finally got a competent person in Team A! Feel free to ask me anything if you face any problems in the future! I've gotcha covered!

He grinned, patting himself on the chest to further emphasize his point. He'd already assembled and laid out all of my office appliances on the table at some point in our conversation.

Brother Mao: Alright, everyone! Put everything down. Let me introduce to you our new buddy, (Y/n)!

All the people around me nodded in greeting as Brother Mao introduced them to me one-by-one.

Brother Mao: The one dressed in a Cheongsam is Li Man'man. She came here a minute earlier than you and braved through 3 interviews just to enter Warson.

Li Man'man: Hi, nice to meet you.

Brother Mao: And that's Chen Che, our team's tailoring genius. He's been here for nearly 4 years and has just been promoted to a Senior Designer.

The guy named Chen Che raised his head from the multitude of fabric surrounding him. He adjusted his glasses and gave me a wary look.

Chen Che: Hello.

It was at this moment in time that a guy sporting a quiff hairdo walked past us. His head was haughtily raised and his expression was one of utter disdain.

Man With Quiff Hairstyle: Hmph.

MC: And he is…?

Brother Mao: Don't mind him. He's an annoyance. He just failed the promotion test and is being the green-eyed monster to everyone right now.

I only nodded, not knowing what to say.

Brother Mao: That one over there's Hao Shuai, the trendsetter of Team A and also the King of Werewolf games.

Hao Shuai: Wanna play Werewolf? I'll host one next time, but not now...

Hao Shuai buried his face with a sullen expression as Brother Mao quietly pulled me aside to a corner.

Brother Mao: He's not been in too jolly of a mood these few days. He didn't manage to get promoted to Senior Designer, so he's been pretty depressed about it.

MC: Sounds like it's very hard to get promoted up a rank...

Brother Mao: Precisely! Although Warson has a rank promotion system in place, the way things are being assessed in them makes it scarily hard! People normally have to do it five or six times before they manage to get themselves promoted.

Brother Mao: And, you might even get demoted a rank if the work you turn in doesn't make the cut!

MC: That strict!?

Brother Mao: I'm a Junior Designer like you. I've already taken the assessment around…

Zheng Lin: 10 times.

Brother Mao: You remember all so well, Sister Zheng Lin.

He gallantly retrieved another chair for Zheng Lin to sit on, seemingly paying no heed to the embarrassing number of tries he'd gone through.

Brother Mao: Don't they say that failure's the mother of success? I just have to get a couple more of those and it'll net me a great success!

I laughed at his joke along with Zheng Lin.

Zheng Lin: Our assessment system is just stricter than others.

Zheng Lin: Even though everyone is free to design whatever they like with their creativity as the limit, becoming an actual Fashion Designer is some serious business.

Zheng Lin: Those capable of joining us here in Warson are all talented individuals. Hence, what's really being tested in those assessments are your passion and perseverance.

Zheng Lin: I've welcomed hundreds upon hundreds of rookies during my 10 years here in Team A, but most of them drop out after failing the assessment 3-4 times.

MC: Eh?

Zheng Lin: Firstly, everyone who first comes here holds high self-esteem, so they're a bit more sensitive to criticism. And it is only natural for people to find it unbearable, especially after having been criticized a lot.

Zheng Lin: Secondly, there's a limit to the type of jobs that can be given to Assistants and Junior Designers, so things often end up being boring and repetitive

Zheng Lin: It's hard to go on like that if you don't have the right sort of determination.

MC: ……

Zheng Lin was about to say more when the door slammed open with a "bang!". Several people stood at the entrance, worry written all over their anxious faces.

Colleague A: Can someone consolidate all of Sliver's Autumn-Winter fabrics into a document?

Colleague A: I still have to go down to the mall and conduct surveys and research so I won't be able to do that in time!

Colleague B: Some trouble cropped up regarding the visas of the foreign models who're slated for a shoot next week, so we need another 18 new ones!

Colleague B: What should I do, Sister Zheng Lin!?

Zheng Lin gave a helpless sigh.

Zheng Lin: I'd originally wanted you to let you get used to things around here, but we have our hands full… Do you mind helping us?

MC: … Sure thing!

Zheng Lin: Then, could you first help us by going to the warehouse and picking up Silver's Autumn-Winter fabrics and consolidating them into a sample book after?

Zheng Lin: You can get Brother Mao to help you check it through once you're done.

I nodded and joined the fray.

Time went by. And finally, I finished my very first task after an hour. Brother Mao told me to take it up to the Team A representative who was in the meeting after checking through it.

❖☆———————————★❖

It was clearly noon soon, yet the doors of the meeting rooms on both sides of the corridor were still tightly shut, I could occasionally hear the sound of loud discussions coming from within.

❖☆———————————★❖

MC: Excuse me, I'm here to deliver the fabric samples.

Pushing the door open, I saw a Designer who was in the middle of loudly explaining his idea while Sariel held a pen, looking down at the document in his hand.

All the other Designers were either listening intently or hurriedly sketching out their new ideas, having been struck by a sudden wave of inspiration. It was almost as if the very air itself was crackling with ideas, going head to head with each other, gathering and merging into a brand new storm of ideas.

I’m going to be taking part in meetings with everyone in the future too… I couldn’t help but jump for joy at the exciting notion.

Placing the fabric catalogue book down, I couldn’t stop myself from taking one last glance at the meeting room before I left.

❖☆———————————★❖

Brother Mao: Oh, right. Don't forget to retrieve the catalogue book once the meeting upstairs is done.

MC: Okay.

❖☆———————————★❖

Everyone left after the meeting ended. I picked up the scattered pieces of fabric, stacking them neatly into a pile. It was only then that I noticed a pen lying on the ground.

The pitch-black pen was see-through, slender, and sturdy, with three gold-stamped petals at the very end.

MC: This is...

An image of Sariel wielding this pen with his head bowed in thought appeared in my mind.

MC: Is this pen his? It certainly suits that icy countenance of his...

❖☆———————————★❖

I bent down to pick it up, but the moment my fingers brushed against it… I suddenly felt an inexplicable sharp jolt of pain piercing my head.

My heart clenched violently, almost as if a nightmare that had been buried deep within its depths was about to be awakened. The stifling feeling of sadness and despair washed over me together with the odd feeling of my heart having been impaled by something.

What’s going on?

I pressed against my chest, trying to get through this sudden bout of pain that came out of seemingly nowhere.

Sariel: What's going on here?

There seems to be a faint voice ringing through my ears. The pen was taken away from me the next moment. Gone with it were the odd sensations.

I blearily looked at Sariel who had suddenly popped up from nowhere, still slightly woozy in the head.

Sariel: What are you standing around in a stupor for? See a ghost?

MC: I don't know what happened to me earlier…

Sariel: That's what I'd like to ask you.

☆Light Choice: Explain what you felt earlier

I shook my head, trying to recall that odd sensation you felt earlier.

MC: I… My chest and head just suddenly started hurting.

MC: I know I’m in the meeting room right now, but it kind of felt as if I wasn’t here at the same time…

MC: Like a nightmare, you can never wake up from…

Sariel’s expression changed minuscule bit upon hearing the word “nightmare”.

Sariel: How about now?

MC: I'm fine now, and the uncomfortable feeling's also gone.

Sariel: Has this happened before?

MC: Once…?

★Night Choice: Conceal what you felt earlier

MC: I just felt a little light-headed… I'm okay now.

MC: Oh, right. I picked up your pen.

I pointed towards the pen that he'd already reclaimed, which was now in his hand. Sariel only frowned.

Sariel: You felt light-headed after picking up this pen?

It was only when he mentioned it that I realized that that seemed to be the case. But what would a pen have anything to do with a bout of dizziness?

Sariel coldly grabs my hand, making my heart stop cold in my chest. However, all he did was stare at it in silence for a few seconds before releasing me just as quickly.

MC: What are you looking at? Is there something wrong with my hand?

Sariel: Nothing. It's well and fine.

What's up with Sariel? Grabbing my hand out of nowhere like that and not even telling me the reason why...

So, I ended up giving my hand a thorough check as well. There was nothing off about it, but I couldn't help feeling a little worried.

I'd also experienced some "auditory hallucinations" back then at the rooftop…

MC: Maybe I should go get myself a check-up at the hospital just in case…

Sariel: You look pretty peppy on your feet to me. Doesn't seem like there's anything physically wrong about you.

His gaze smoothly slides up from my face to the top of my head as he spoke.

Sariel: Though, I can't say the same about the other parts of you.

MC: ……!

I was fuming, yet I didn't dare to express it with a vehement glare. Seeing how riled up I was at it, yet unable to do anything about it, a flicker of a smirk made its way up to a corner of his mouth.

This was my second time seeing him smile today… The iron tree has bloomed…

Sariel: Are there flowers growing on my face?

I shook my head.

Sariel: A ghost then?

I shook my head again.

Sariel: Then why are you looking at me as if you've just seen a monster?

MC: You just smiled. It's too rare of a sight.

Sariel: … How stupid.

He put on a straight face as he pocketed his pen and turned to head out.

Suddenly remembering something, I hurriedly pushed the door open and ran after him.

MC: Wait a minute, Director Qi! Are you free right now?

❖☆————— ⊹ For Light & Night⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Chapter 2-3) | Next Part: (Chapter 2-8)

#光与夜之恋 #Light and Night #Otome #Translations #Tencent #萧逸 #Osborn #齐司礼 #Sariel #陆沉 #Evan #查理苏 #Charlie #夏鸣星 #Jesse #For Light and Night

[prismatica-the-strange]

Have I Ever Told You I Love You? | Urushihara Hanzo x Streamer!Reader (Part 1)

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, and idk if you can call this angst

Word: 1270

    During his short stint in the small apartment with two other guys, Lucifer managed to find his own little world in his laptop. While it wasn't capable of running the games he wanted he was able to enjoy them vicariously through various streamers.

        His favorite streamer was a pink-haired girl from California. He came across her stream late day when he was scrolling through Stitch (Twitch). He knew a little English from the research he'd done for Maou and Ashiya, it was rough, but through some Foogle Translate, he managed.

        The first time he made her laugh through a badly translated off-handed comment, he knew he was done for. He would do literally do anything to hear her laugh like that again. 

        She wasn't a super popular streamer but had a loyal following that made a tight-knit community. It wasn't hard for him to start a conversation with her, and so a friendship began.

        A handful of months later, the short interactions turned into late night text sessions, and he went to as many streams of her's as he could.

        "What in the world are you watching?" Ashiya asked him one day.

        "None of your business!" He growled.

        "I think it's that girl he likes," Maou said through a mouthful of noodles.

        "What are you talking about?!" He yelled, "Why would I like some human? She's just good at gaming!"

        Oh, but he liked her. He liked her a lot. 

        One night he got a notification that she was live, which was odd cause it was almost 3 am where she lived.

        The title of the stream was "I'm drunk and wanna play games!" He chuckled to himself and opened her stream.

        She was sat at her normal streaming setup, but her face was flushed and hair messy.

        She had 'Golf With Your Friends' up, one of the few games his crappy laptop could play. He then got a text from her that said 'Join us' with the room password and a little purple heart.

        He quickly pulled the stream up on his phone and loaded the game, wasting no time getting into the room.

        With his phone propped up next to him, he saw her face break into a big grin.

        "Angel boy!" She smiled, his username was FallenAngelxxx, but she thought it was cute when he got flustered when she called him 'Angel Boy'. "I'll send you the link to the Biscord server voice call." 

        He never even thought to make a Biscord account, so he quickly set it up, claiming the name Angel_Boyxxx.

        "Angel boy, you there?" She asked when he joined the call. They hadn't voice called before and she was almost anxious to finally hear his voice. 

        "Yeah, I'm here." He said thankful Maou and Ashiya were out for the night. After he started watching her, he used what little magic power he had left to help him learn the monstrosity that is English.

        "Hey," She breathed before someone else in the call made a vomiting noise. "Shut it, Pat!"

        "You guys ready to start?" Wade laughed.

        As the night went on, she kept a constant state of drunk causing giggles and stupid comments. 

        "Hey, Angel," She said an hour or so into their play session, as the others were AFK for a few minutes, "Have I ever told you I love you?"

        He froze mid-practice shot, causing him to miss what he was aiming at completely.

        "I love you so much," She giggled.

        "What's with him?" A voice said behind him as a door shut. "Urushihara? Why's your face so red?"

        She gasped excitedly, "Who's that, Angel?"

        "He's not sick is he?" Another voice said, "Jeeze we can't afford a hospital visit right now."

        "I-I-" He covered his mouth with his hand, his face bright red. "Why now?"

        He moved awkwardly and his headphones came unplugged.

        "Angel? You okay?" Her voice sounded almost concerned through the haze of alcohol. "Angel?"

        "Who's that?" Maou asked, looking at the screen quizzically.

        "Are you playing those damned video games aga-" Ashiya started.

        "It's no one!" Lucifer rushed, slamming the laptop shut, cutting off another 'Angel'.

        He grabbed his handheld game and sat in the corner, trying to hide his blush behind his hair.

        The other two men shrugged and started talking about the next day's plans.

        About five minutes later, Lucifer's phone began to ring. He managed to snatch it before Ashiya grabbed it.

        "Were you about to answer my phone?!" He nearly screeched, "Can a guy get any privacy around here?!"

        "As your superior, I need to know you're not talking to any undesirables," Ashiya argued.

        "You mean like you old farts?" He hissed, before stepping into the hallway, slamming the door behind him. 

        The phone had stopped ringing when he went to finally answered and he slouched against the wall, head hung low.

 ~~~~~~~

        He was so embarrassed that it took him two weeks to go back to another stream or even answer any of her texts. He barely even went near his precious computer and Maou and Ashiya were even slightly concerned. 

        She was busy in-game and missed his meek little 'hi' in chat, he sighed and cradled his head on his arms on the desk, eyes staring at the screen.

        When she paused to read chat, someone told her he was there, even going as far as to ping him.

        Her eyes lit up as she asked, "You still here Angel Boy?"

        He put a purple heart emoji in the chat and she smiled.

        "Where you been? I- we've missed you," She said as she went back to the game.

        FallenAngelxxx: Who missed me?

        He couldn't help but tease her about her little slip-up.

        She scoffed and rolled her eyes at his chat, "Shut up."

~~~~~~

        For the next three weeks, they texted every day, he was so distracted he even stopped ordering stuff. Until one day she never texted him her usual 'Good Morning Angel.' In fact, she never texted him at all that day and he was beyond worried. Sure she'd missed a couple of texts before, but nothing like this. He scrolled through their last conversation, wondering if he'd said something to make her mad.

        Ashiya watched him get more and more worried, "That girl you like not talking to you?"

        "No, she's not," Lucifer muttered from his place in the corner, just loud enough for Ashiya to hear. He was anxiously playing his handheld to take his mind off it.

        "Well, you probably did something in your own brand of stupid to upset her-" His roommate was cut off by a discord call on his computer.

        Lucifer scrambled to his computer, leaving his game unpaused on the floor.

        He glanced at the time as he answered the call, it was past 2 am for her.

        "His Majesty will be back soon, must you take a call instead of-"

        "I'll get to it later!"

        She chuckled as he tried to get his roommate off his back.

        "Hey Angel," She smiled, and his heart stuttered in his chest.

        "H-hey, where've you been all day? I... I was almost worried." He lied.

        "I-heh... Just a super busy day, I guess." 

        "You sound tired," He commented, "Shouldn't you be asleep?"

        "Don't wanna," She whined sleepily, "Help me stay up?"

        "Okay, you wanna play a game or something?" He scrolled through his Solar library for something to play.

        "Uh-uh, too tired," She yawned and he nearly 'aww'd, "Let's just talk for a while."

        "Y-yeah, okay." The other line went real quiet, "You still with me?"

        "Huh? Oh. Yeah, I'm here," Her small sleepy voice was doing things to his heart.

        "So," She yawned, "How was your day?"

        "Boring," He scoffed.

        "Tell me all about it," She said, "I wanna know every detail."

        "Every detail?"

        "Yep. What did you do? What did you eat? What stupid thing did your roommate yell at you for? Did you play anything fun? I want to know all of it."

        "Heh, I uh..." He had no idea what to say, he definitely wasn't telling her he spent the whole day freaking out, "You know, I just played some stupid game on my handheld and slept. Ashiya was out most of the day, so he really only got on my case a few minutes ago."

        "That's it?" She almost sounded disappointed.

        "Yeah, just another boring day." He shrugged. There was a knock on her side and he could hear her adjust.

        "Ah, that'd be room service," She groaned as she got up, "Be back in a mo."

        "What? Roomservice?! Where in the Hell are you?"

        "What's up with you?" Maou asked right next to him, causing him to jump and let to a small yell.

        "What the Hell, man?! I didn't even hear you come in!" He shouted, "You can't just scare people like that!"

        "Who can't scare what now?" SHe asked through a mouthful of food.

        "No not you- It's just- It's nothing Maou just scared me is all." He stammered.

        "Oh. HI ANGEL'S ROOMMATE!" she yelled loud enough that Maou could hear it through the headphones, making Urushihara yank them off his head.

        "Uh... Hi, Urushihara's girlfriend?" Maou answered unsurely.

        "Wha- She! Sh-sh-She isn't my girlfriend!" Lucifer argued, putting his headphones back on to hear her bubbly laughter.

        "I'm not?" She giggled, "Well maybe I should be since everyone already thinks it."

        His face flushed bright red as he stared at the screen. "W-w... Really?"

        "Yeah, the guys make fun of me for it all the time. They even said that I told you I loved you on stream once, ridiculous, right?"

        "A-actually..." He trailed off. "You kind of... did. I was there."

        It was quiet again.

        "N-no one clipped it?" She said in disbelief. Someone had actually clipped it, and he had it on his phone. Every once and a while, he would play it and his heart would do somersaults.

        "Well, no taking it back now," She chuckled. "Guess the cat's outa the bag."

        His jaw dropped.

        "Close your mouth, you'll catch flies," Ashiya teased and Lucifer threw a magazine at him. "That was uncalled for!"

        Lucifer grabbed his laptop and stormed out to the hallway. 

        With the door closed, he set his computer on the washer.

        "You love me?" He asked, trying not to sound completely desperate, unaware of Maou and Ashiya's ears pressed against the door.

        "Of course I do Angel."

        "Wow..." He felt like crying he was so happy. "Me too- I mean! No, I- shit... You don't even know what I look like."

        "Well... What are you doing in two days?"

        "What? Uh, my roommates are dragging me to some stupid work thing, why?" 

        "Can you get out of it?" She asked hopefully.

        "Unlikely," He frowned, "Ashiya is dead set on getting me out of the house and won't let me out of his sight."

        "Oh... Ok." Great, now she was sleepy and sad.

        "What was your idea? Maybe we can reschedule?" He suggested.

        "I'm only in Japan for the next three days, so I don't think it'll work."

        "YOU'RE IN JAPAN?!" He yelled, "Like, right now?!"

        "Good Hanzo, do you mind keeping it down?" Suzino asked from her doorway, "Some of us are trying to enjoy a quiet evening."

        He waved her off and went back to questioning the girl. 

        "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

        "Didn't know till a couple days ago myself. I thought I'd surprise you." She told him shyly. "The guys had an extra spot on their panel at some convention and invited me."

        "Scrw what Ashiya wants, where's the con?"

        "It's at the-" There was a loud bang outside the building, the lights went out and he lost internet connection.

        "No... No! NO!" he gripped the side of his computer and begged her to tell him.

Taglist: @unicornwithachainsaw83​ @steviestyle​

Masterlist​

#urushihara hanzo #hanzo urushihara #Urushihara x reader #the devil is a part timer #lucifer x reader #x reader #streamer #fluff #anime #Prisma-the-Pretend-Avenger #prisma the pretend avenger #Prisma Writes

[cl-01-kestis]

Incorrect Morals

Dismay - Grand Admiral Thrawn x Rebel!Reader | Part 7

Summary: You receive a call from Thrawn once again and spend the night getting lost in conversation, and after a tense negotiation with a team of rebels, you get stuck in a sticky situation with Kallus.

Warnings: slight romance, angst (literally all these chapters have angst i-) (I’m also sorry to all of you Kalluzeb shippers. I do ship it very much but it isn’t a thing in this story 🥺)

-

Chiss translations:

Ch'ah tsucarah = I promise

Rab nor rah vah k'ir ch'at rihn? = but only if you do the same?

Ch'ah csarcican't, k'ir nah can'a about ch'ah = I will, don’t worry about me

Ch'ah’ll can'a about vah veah ch'otco veah ch'ah ran'as, non ch'pae = I’ll worry about you as much as I want, now go

It was 10:45 PM.

The sky dimmed into a pitch black and Omani had gone to bed due to how mentally and physically exhausted she was, mostly because of the journey and the fact she had seen her dad in person for the first time and her mind wouldn’t shut up about it. As for you, you had just gotten out of the shower. It had been a long day and your visit to Naboo had been cut short due to obvious circumstances and you felt the need to clean up.

You stood in front of the comunual refresher mirror, drying your hair with a spare towel you had lying about as your body was on full show. No one used the refreshers at this time of night so you didn’t necessarily need to cover up.

You brought your bag to the showers since you went in a refresher as soon as you undressed from your Senator outfit. You scrubbed your hair and body, unable to shake the feeling of anxiety off your skin as you washed yourself under the cold water.

The towel soaked up all the water on your body as you dried your hair and flung the towel around your shoulder. Your body was cold against the cool air coming into the showers, but you found it pleasant, it made you feel comfortable. You brushed your hair and put on clean briefs and a black sports bra after putting deodorant on. The towel was still draped around your shoulders and neck, catching whatever water droplets left your strands of hair and making sure none of them soaked your bra. You slid your legs through a pair of black leggings, shimmying your hips into them and bending your legs slightly so they could adjust and not fall down.

You shuffled around in your bag and grabbed ahold of your holo device, switching it on as you washed your face in the mirror. You scrolled through the news articles that came up on the holonet, nothing too exciting was going on at the moment apart from the galactic war. A twi’lek presenter was broadcasting the daily reports for the New Republic, her face plastered with a fake smile as she read off the papers sorted nearly in front of her. You watched with a bored expression, listening in loosely as you put on some deodorant and whistled a small song to yourself.

As you rubbed your hair with the towel some more, a small incoming call notification popped up on your holo device and you stopped to look and inspect the number with squinted eyes. It was Thrawn.

Sighing to yourself, you accept the call and turn around to make sure no one’s coming in as his holo image illuminated in front of you on the bathroom sink. You were met with a tired looking Thrawn, now wearing a white long sleeved T-shirt and his hair no longer layered by gel. You looked at one another for a brief second, Thrawn’s scarlet eyes looking down at your torso and realising you were wearing only a sports bra before returning his gaze to yours in a respectful manner, he made no comment.

“Hello again,” Thrawn managed a small, warm smile. You repeated his actions and let the corner of your lip curl up as you ruffled your hair some more with the towel and placed it on the counter of sinks after.

“Hey” You mumbled back, resting your palms on the edge of the sink just so you had something to lean on. Your posture was relaxed but your shoulders seemed tense, that’s what Thrawn noticed as you rolled your neck around your shoulders to relieve some tension. You looked stressed.

“I want to apologise for today, I didn’t realise you were going to be attending” He sighed, fumbling with the hem of his T-shirt sleeves as he kept his eyes on you, doing his best not to look away out of shame. You shook your head, turning around so your hips leaned against the sink.

“It’s alright, I’m not judging you for doing your job” You noted, crossing your arms and smiling in an assuring manner at Thrawn who took some relief towards that, his body relaxing slightly as his eyes grew soft.

“I do feel embarrassed though, I also want to apologise for Pryce” He continued, causing you to cringe and frown at the mentioning of that woman’s name.

“Don’t be sorry for someone who isn’t; you don’t need to cover up her tracks, she worked beside me a few times back when I was an Imperial after all, so I know what kind of person she is” You corrected Thrawn quickly, gaze turning fierce and angry but it wasn’t directed towards him. Your face scrunched up in displeasure for a moment, hands clutching at your bare upper arms and trying to ignore the rising frustration building up inside you.

“She is... dull to work with, so I don’t blame you” Thrawn’s words made you chuckle and nod in agreement, your eyes unconsciously staring at him for a bit too long until you quickly cleared your throat and ran a hand through your scalp.

“It was a pleasant surprise to see you today” Your words projected veracity, and Thrawn felt his heart beat flare up in anticipation at that single comment, even if it wasn’t a massive one. He bit back a smile and nodded his head.

“As with you, Rcati,” Thrawn beamed, some strands of loose navy hair falling in front of his eyes that made your heart skip a beat, or were you just imagining things?

“I must admit, you looked very beautiful, I can’t recall ever seeing you in a dress” Thrawn leaned back with the support of his arms, it made you realise he wasn’t sitting in his chair but maybe the floor? You weren’t sure, but it certainly wasn’t his chair.

“Dresses aren’t my thing, I only need to wear them for the Senate to make a ‘positive impression’” You used your two fingers on each hand to make a sarcastic emphasis on the last part, and it warmed your heart to see Thrawn chuckle in response.

“I know the feeling, it’s all about positive impressions now a days. But how has it been? Being a Senator?” Thrawn looked more and more excited the more he spoke and asked you things, his eyes sparkled with interest and his mouth never stopped curling up as he looked right at you. You reminded yourself that this was the real Thrawn you were talking to, not the Thrawn you saw back at the Senate. As scary as he could he, this was as real as he could get, and you were grateful he showed this side of himself to you, even after years of not speaking to him. The trust was still there.

“It’s been tiring, I’ve not been working recently but all the travelling and meeting new people really drains you” You answered frankly, scratching the back of your neck as Thrawn hummed softly. He seemed to study you in a subtle sense as you awaited his answer, he trapped his chin between his thumb and index finger and his eyes stayed unfocused for a few seconds.

“You hate both of those things, i genuinely can’t believe you took a career as a Senator- I mean, you dreamed of being a soldier your whole life, why not do that with the rebels?” Thrawn’s voice held interest as he tilted his head slightly and a few more strands of his hair fell on his forehead. Thrawn frowned and tried fixing the hairs but gave up soon after they kept falling on his face. You noticed it now, Thrawn’s hair was longer than it was when you worked with him at the Empire. He had it cut much shorter, but now it was at least a few inches longer. Of course it wasn’t as long as his hair used to be on Csilla, but you’d give a lot to see him with that hair again. He suited it more than you wanted to admit.

“The reason is our daughter, and I’m too busy to be a soldier now. The fear of dying in battle and leaving Omani alone terrifies me, I could never do that to her... I’m the only person she has at the moment” Your voice lowered the more you spoke, gaze drifting off to think about the scenario you feared most. Thrawn nodded his head, understanding what you were getting at and doing his best to try and emotionally sympathise with you.

He wasn’t good at emotions, he never was. He feared weakness, and made little to no efforts to connect with anyone in the Empire what so ever. It was a cold life for him, but now he felt he had to do something, anything, to connect with you. He never realised it until you left, but Thrawn liked you, a lot, and not just for the sex or company. If anything, he loved you. And the thought of you disappearing again made him nauseous, completely sick to his stomach with anxiety, and that was something he had never experienced before. Pure and utter dread.

“That’s a fair point, I wouldn’t want her being left alone” Thrawn returned his gaze to you and he took his time to study you until you looked back at him. Your body hadn’t changed that much since he last saw it, but he noticed the stretch marks peeking out of the hem of your leggings, it was obviously from your pregnancy. The sight made his heart swoon.

If there’s one thing Chiss are always proud of, it’s having a family and a mother or father to have their kin. Thrawn’s gotten so used to the fact he was a father throughout the last few days, he forgot about all the worries and concerns he had about the Empire just by looking at Omani’s face. He didn’t even know her, hell, he didn’t even know she existed until recently, but he already felt so much pride. That was his daughter, a daughter that you gave him. And the thought of you looking after Omani for so long, and risking so much to keep her safe, made Thrawn utterly fall in love with you. Not that he wasn’t in love with you before.

“She was at the Senate today as well, wasn’t she?” Thrawn raised a brow, bending his knee up to rest his elbow on it. Okay, he was definitely sitting on the floor, or his bed maybe.

“She was, she saw you and freaked out” You chuckled, making the situation more lighthearted and trying to avoid telling Thrawn about how scared she was, you didn’t want him becoming guilty.

Thrawn sighed. “She smiled at me though, I guess that’s a starting point”. Your smile widened at his comment.

“Omani will come around eventually, hopefully when the war ends, then maybe-“ maybe we could be a family. You cut yourself off before you said anything else, wincing internally after realising you said too much and would probably be questioned by Thrawn about it. Your face was hot with embarrassment and you cleared your throat to waft away the tension.

“Maybe...?” Thrawn persuaded with curiosity, leaning forward and raising his other leg up so he was sitting more comfortably. You looked away from Thrawn and pinched the bridge of your nose, waving away his comment and trying not to get butt hurt about thinking too much about what you desired more than anything in the world.

“Just getting ahead of myself, that’s all” Your voice was quiet but clear enough for the Chiss to hear. You sniffed but no tears were in your eyes, thankfully for your sake. But that didn’t stop Thrawn from wondering desperately what was on your mind. He practically knew you when you were a baby, your parents knew his very well and he bonded with you the moment he met you; him being 5 years old and you, a new born. But when you became an adult, he wanted to know what you were thinking, what you were perhaps feeling, maybe - and hopefully - feelings towards him? He could never crack you, and now he was faced with the same issue.

“I won’t push, but whatever it is, it’s obviously bothering you” You sucked in a breath at Thrawn’s statement. He was right, he knew he was. Were you ready to tell him though? You only spoke to him once before now, after 14 years, but somehow your feelings for him have never changed. If anything they’ve grown stronger now that you’ve got a direct link; Omani.

“It is bothering me, and it has for the longest time... but I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it just yet” You clutched the edge of the sink and ground your teeth, afraid you said too much all together. You felt like keeping your feelings from him was unfair, he done nothing but tell the truth to you and he proved his loyalty to you after saving you and Omani at the Senate. He might have been Empire, but you and Omani being rebels didn’t stop him from protecting either of you from harms way.

“Do you... remember the nights I’d come over to your office, and we’d just talk? Sex or not, but just... being in each other’s company?” It was a strange question, you knew it, but Thrawn wasn’t confused by what you were getting at, he nodded his head and urged you to continue. You chewed the inside of your cheek nervously and raised your hand up to your mouth to bite at your nails. Thrawn noticed this and reached out on the hologram, his blue, illuminated hand reaching out but unfortunately going right through you. He flinched back, his hand slowly returning to his side and his expression falling.

“Those were some of the best memories of my time at the Empire, with you, and only you” You looked at Thrawn with pure sincerity and he knew instantly you were telling the truth. His throat went dry at your confession and for a second he had no clue how to reply, your words caught him so off guard but he didn’t waste too much time coming up with words to respond with.

“The feeling is mutual, Rcati, you’re the only person I’ve really confided in” Thrawn looked conflicted as he let the words slip through his teeth, the hands you weren’t able to see below the hologram were clenched and his knuckles were light blue. He was struggling to get his emotions out, but he loved to hear you do it.

You said nothing in reply to his comment, you only smiled at him. Looking at you now, Thrawn thought you were stunning. You were glowing as you looked at him with such emotion, the tears visible in your eyes even though none of them spilled and the breathtaking smile covering up half of your face. It truly was a wonderful sight to see, it made him realise for the first time in years that he really needed something like this. The Empire was a tough place to work in, he never knew how much he needed you to keep him afloat until this very moment, even the moments before on the hologram.

You were his life, and you always had been, but he was sad that he was only realising that now. He had known you since birth, known you for 42 whole years and now did he know you were his reason. His reason for what? Life. To carry on. To push through the war until it was over and hopefully see you after it was all over. Omani as well. Maker, he needed Omani just as much as he needed you.

“What’s on your mind?” The Chiss asked in a small, quiet voice, as if someone outside was passing by his chamber door. You ruffled your hair once again with the discarded towel on the sink and rolled your neck around your shoulders, sighing pleasantly at the released tension.

“Us” You answered in a hushed whisper, your mouth snapping shut after the word slipped through your teeth and made it’s way to Thrawn’s attention. He smiled at your reply, looking down shyly at his clasped hands before peeking back up, his scarlet gaze piercing right through you. You felt exposed but you didn���t want to hide, he had seen through you many times before.

“Same with me” He seemed to lean in closer through the hologram, you got a sense you were leaning in too and trying to kiss him, but the distant echo of Rebels chatting to each other caused you to whip your head around to the entrance of the comunual showers. Thrawn seemed to hear it as well and his once calm expression was replaced with a disappointed frown. He wasn’t worried of getting caught, he was pissed your time was cut short.

“I have to go” You whispered, looking back to Thrawn with eyes full of reluctance. He nodded once, running a hand through his face and closing his eyes momentarily, you genuinely thought for a second he done that on purpose just to rouse you up, but you brushed it off your shoulder and cleared your throat.

“Till next time, Rcati ton” Thrawn smirked, his fingers still tangled in the back of his scalp as he leaned forward to the holo device to hang up.

“W-wait” You called out just before he hung up, his gaze raised on you once again and he bit back a smile.

“Take care of yourself, for me?” You blushed, head hung low but your eyes were still connected to his. Thrawn’s face softened and he sent you a small curt nod. “Ch'ah tsucarah” He spoke softly, catching you off guard slightly with his sudden use of Cheunh but you chuckled softly in reply.

“Rab nor rah vah k'ir ch'at rihn?” Thrawn tilted his head to the side, his hand playing with the hairs on the back of his neck which stood on edge, he wasn’t anxious, he was just excited at the interaction between you.

“Ch'ah csarcican't, k'ir nah can'a about ch'ah” You chuckled.

“Ch'ah’ll can'a about vah veah ch'otco veah ch'ah ran'as, non ch'pae” Thrawn ushered in a quiet voice, laughing softly as he spoke which made you too laugh.

“Till next time, Mitth’rawn’nuruodo” You nodded, eventually tapping the red button to end the call and feeling a part of yourself leave with Thrawn the moment the bright blue glow of the hologram disappeared, leaving you alone in the refreshers once again and in the unpleasant white light on the ceiling.

-

“So we’ve got squadrons coming in left and right, we should relocate our star fleet to somewhere where the Empire doesn’t find our base” You said in a clear voice to those standing around the holo table, including Kallus and Zeb, who had recently returned from a mission with the Phoenix squadron. Hera was standing nearby, listening into the negotiation which you were the chairman of currently, listening in to people’s different ideas and hopefully coming to a mutual conclusion.

Kallus was recording down everything being said, typing frantically on his data pad and gathering all of the different ideas from everyone so you could look into it after the meeting and hopssully come up with an idea to settle things. He was a busy man, he worked his ass off and you noticed how much he cared for this rebellion.

He never changed throughout the years, even if he was a cold hearted Imperial once, so were you. You had your fair share of horrid deeds that you certainly weren’t proud of, and neither was Kallus. But you Teo seemed to be like two peas in a pod when it came to planning meetings and getting a mutual agreement. He was your right arm, always.

“I think we should take the fleet outside of the outer rim” Someone came forward, a young zabrak female with full suited soldier uniform and a sniper attached to her back.

“That might be a good idea, but the outer rim has more New Republic ally’s than outside of it. Still, I shall record that down- Kallus” You regarded the blonde man standing opposite you at the table, his dark eyes focused on you in a way you couldn’t quite put your finger on. You held your stare on him for a moment longer than necessary, before turning your attention back to the zabrak who smiled at you, grateful you took her suggestion into consideration.

“Any other ideas?” You asked, eyes looking around the table in one quick glance before turning to Kallus who pursed his lips at the sudden silence that fell on the group.

“I-uh, pardon me for asking Senator, but weren’t you at the Senate negotiations on Naboo yesterday?” A young rebel man raised his hand with a polite expression on his face. You tensed at his question and nodded.

“Is it true? Was Grand Admiral Thrawn really there?” Another rebel asked with a peeked interest, desperation to know about the events that took place yesterday, the events you were trying so hard to stop thinking about. Kallus’ eyes widened and he felt himself tense for you, this wasn’t going to end as well as you and him had planned.

“It’s true” You sighed, resting your hands on the edge of the holo table and trying your best not to look too uncomfortable about the conversation.

“Woah, how did you get out?” The same rebel asked with a look of astonishment, but you didn’t budge. Your face stayed stone cold and you exchanged an uneasy glance with Kallus who cleared his throat and adjusted his T-shirt collar.

“Save those questions for later, I need you all to focus on the fleet, please” You insisted, hitting your hand slightly on the table with your teeth clenched.

From afar, Kanan and Hera looked at one another, knowing fine well what was going on in your head the moment Thrawn’s name was mentioned. The two of them heard about the events at the Senate, and how you were the one who managed to get Thrawn to prevent any arrests from happening. There had been chatter around the rebel base, and Hera was fearing for you. If your secrets got out, you would be untrustworthy amongst the rebels. And that was the last thing she wanted for you, especially with Omani by your side.

“Meeting dismissed, I shall look at the suggestions and come up with something, for the time being please go and get some rest, it’s late” You waved away all of the rebels who had joined the meeting, bidding them farewell with smiles and nods of the head. Kallus stayed with you and walked around the table once the rebels were away, resting a hand on your shoulder and waiting for you to say something. Instead of words, you unexpectedly grabbed Kallus and wrapped your arms around him, tears brimming at your eyes and lip quivering as you gripped onto his jacket and sniffed. Kallus froze for a second but placed his data pad on the holo table, wrapping his strong arms around you tight and raising a hand to stroke your head.

“It’s alright, shh...” He soothed, rubbing your back and holding onto you as you fought back an army’s tears that started to spill down your face.

“I’m sorry, it’s just been really stressful recently” You cried softly, holding onto Kallus for dear life as he leaned his chin on the top of your head and closed his eyes, the smallest crease next to his eyebrow as he listened to your sobs.

“You don’t need to apologise for anything, just let it out” He encouraged, continuing to stroke your head and doing his best to comfort you.

Leaning back, you looked up at Kallus with glossy eyes, cheeks stained with fallen tears and face hot with humiliation. Kallus cupped your cheek, studying your face before frowning at your state and sighing.

“What’s got you so worked up? Is it Thrawn?” Kallus asked with calm articulation, his hands keeping you in place as you wiped away your tears and nodded your head weakly. You couldn’t verbally say anything in fears you would start crying, and Kallus seemed to understand that. Beneath the worried expression on his face, he was angry. He knew he was going for the wrong person, he knew you’d never be over Thrawn.

But he loved you, as much as he didn’t want to admit it. Ever since Kallus met you on the grounds of the Imperial Palace 16 years ago, far before you fell pregnant, he was smitten with you. Even if he was a higher rank than you, and trained you, and was meant to see you as a mere soldier and nothing more, Kallus always had a soft spot for you.

“I’m going to regret this” Kallus murmured, right before pressing his lips against yours and causing you to freeze in his arms. Your eyes shot wide open, you weren’t expecting this at all. His actions were so sudden and the feeling of his lips against yours made your brain cloud over with endless thoughts. It was nice being kissed, it always had been, but this wasn’t right.

Even though it wasn’t as good as a kiss from Thrawn, you closed your eyes and kissed him back, maybe just to feel something aside from the stress. You hesitantly cupped Kallus’ cheek and tapped it a few times, signalling for him to pull away. You didn’t want the kiss to go any further, you didn’t want to lead him on, and by the looks of it he knew what he had done was a mistake.

“That was nice” You commented with an assuring smile, stroking his cheek with your thumb and making him chuckle awkwardly at your words.

“I’m sorry, I felt like if I didn’t do that any sooner I’d beat myself up” He hung his head low, frowning and probably mentally strangling himself, but you didn’t like the way he looked so sad. He knew you didn’t feel the same way towards him, maybe you did like Kallus, but you weren’t over Thrawn. Either way, you tilted his chin up and kissed him once more. The blonde man sighed against your lips and closed his eyes momentarily before grabbing your hand and taking it away from his face, eventually pulling back once again and frowning.

“What was that for?” Kallus raised a brow, looking confused but also amused at the same time.

“I wanted to even things out” You smiled, nudging him playfully to try and get rid of some of the tension surrounding you both. He seemed to be pleased by your comment and laughed. The sting of rejection was soothed by your kindness and Kallus realised that you didn’t feel any different about your friendship with him. But still, it hurt.

“Are we gonna have to start giving each other goodnight kisses now? Cuz if so-“ You joked.

“No, don’t be silly- unless that’s what you want of course” Kallus joked back with a relaxing demeanour. You rolled your eyes at his comment and shoved him playfully, eventually bringing him in for a hug once again and feeling shitty for not feeling the same towards Kallus.

“Well that was weird” Hera whispered to Kanan and Zeb who were watching from afar. The two men nodded in agreement, confused stares on their faces as they watched you depart from the ex-ISB agent and make your way to your chambers.

How weird, indeed.

#star wars #x reader #grand admiral thrawn #thrawn x reader #thrawn #star wars rebels

[cotncandyboifics]

A Lovely Night: Chapter 4

AO3 Link

Masterpost

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 6

Pairing(s): pre-established roceit & prinxiety, anaroceit, eventual anaroloceit, eventual intruality

Word count: ~2k

Story summary: Roman's boyfriends had had a rivalry since before either of them had actually met Roman. Running a bit late to a date night, Roman accidentally gets them to start dating too.

General CW: non-detailed description of an anxiety attack, non-detailed description of physical pain, food, kissing, potentially triggering descriptions of physical bodies, swearing, caps lock, school settings, s-xual innuendos, slight description of gore(imagery), vague descriptions of anxiety, Implications of an eating disorder, fatigue, dissociation, suppression of stimming, implied heavy restriction (ED), inner monologue-style anxiety description, eating,(will be added to as I write more)

Chapter CW: Food, School setting, caps lock, (let me know if i missed anything please!)

Author notes: and so the nerd enters the snake's den... (this chapter is nothing like that, I just think Loceit is neat, ignore me being a dork)

...

Janus stepped cautiously as he looked down each aisle he passed. The shelves extended far into the room, lined with thousands upon thousands of books.

Janus appreciated that the fact that he went to Law school meant that the libraries were extremely well-funded and filled to the brim with all sorts of books. Mostly Law-related books, although there was a reasonably hefty section for recreational reading. He paced between the aisles labeled D, seeking a particular few texts mentioned by one of his professors in a lecture earlier that day.

Janus was too focused on scanning the titles and authors of the books lined before him that he didn't realize his sudden proximity to a stranger. The stranger seemed to have been doing the same, and they quite literally bumped into each other.

They were the same height, but Janus had a slightly larger build, and so on impact the other person fell entirely on their butt while Janus only stumbled backward slightly, quickly gripping the edge of a bookcase to steady himself.

"My deepest apologies. I was not looking where I was going." Janus righted himself, reaching a hand down to help the stranger up.

"I believe we were both too captivated by our searches that neither of us anticipated literally running into another person. My apologies are offered as well." The stranger took Janus' hand, and Janus had to steel himself so as not to gape.

This stranger was beautiful. His hair fell in wisps over his thick glasses, a deep raven shade. His hand felt cold when he took Janus', even through Janus' compression gloves. He had bright eyes that glinted with a childlike hunger for knowledge, all held behind a glassy calm collection. His cheeks were dotted with freckles, and his lips looked pale and soft. Janus internally cursed himself for thinking of this stranger's lips, and pressed a small smile onto his face.

"A mutual mistake, then. My name is Janus." Janus pulled the stranger to his feet, and when he didn't pull his hand away, Janus kissed his knuckles chastely. The stranger's face somehow paled and brightened at once, eyes widening as a rosy shade overtook their cheeks.

"R-right," he tried, "What, er, what were you looking for, Janus?" the stranger inquired, running his fingers through his hair to collect it a bit.

Janus tutted for a moment, trying to recall. "Ah, yes." He recited the title of the book he'd been searching for. "My critical thinking professor suggested that we read it. supposedly it shall b-"

"boost our chances on the final come end of term," the stranger completed. "I suppose we must have the same professor, because mine recommended the same." he offered a small smile, and Janus returned it, eyes lighting up a bit.

"Well dear me, I hope they still have two copies," Janus laughed a little nervously, and the two began a duel-force search for the book they both sought.

Shortly they discovered that there were, in fact, only two copies left. They conversed briefly about the nature of their shared course as they approached the front desk to check their books out.

"Well, I must be off for now," Janus sighed, straightening his capelet. He nearly completed his statement with 'I must get home to my boyfriends,' but admitting to a practical stranger that he was not only gay but also polyamorous wasn't exactly the smartest thing, in his experience. "However, I find it may be mutually beneficial if we might see each other again? Perhaps we can study together," Janus asked, almost in spite of himself. What was he doing, exactly? He didn't even know this stranger's name-

"That sounds... adequate," he pulled Janus from his conflicted thoughts. "Would you like to meet here, same time tomorrow?" he inquired, meeting Janus' eyes and pushing his glasses up in a way that Janus found far too cute.

Janus cleared his throat. "An acceptable proposal... I'm sorry dear, I'm not sure that you shared your name." Janus smiled, and the stranger gulped slightly, cheeks turning pink beneath his freckles again.

"Um... Yes. Right. Well, I'll see you tomorrow then." he brushed past Janus in a rush, but halted, seeming to realize something. He turned back to Janus, adjusting his necktie. "My apologies. My name is Logan." He spoke, frozen for a moment, before nodding to himself and turning to leave once more.

"Logan..." Janus smiled to himself. He'd thought the stranger's appearance rung a bell. "It appears I have some good news for a certain Prince of mine."

Janus sat at the dinner table with his hands folded, thumb rubbing against his gloved palm as he bit back a smile. Virgil was shoveling salad onto his plate across the table only slightly barbarically. Dinner was just starting, as Roman had texted that he'd be home shortly, and Virgil wanted to get a bit of a head start.

"What's your damage, snakey?" Virgil commented, glancing pointedly at Janus' hands. translation: I can see that you are worried, love. What can I do to help?

"I have some news for Roman," Janus started, smile on full display now, "that I think he'll find quite enticing. I'm just a bit anxious for his arrival."

"Jeez," Virgil scoffed a bit, "It's really not like you to..." Virgil stopped, finally looking up to see Janus' genuine smile, his eyes so full of feelings. Virgil's eyes widened.

"I so wish that I could tell you," Janus blurted, "But I want Roman to hear it first. Or at least, at the same time." He was still smiling, and Virgil was still dumbfounded.

"Okay..." He watched Janus warily as he scooped a forkful of salad into his mouth. Janus made a chipper noise and began serving himself as well.

They heard the front door burst open down the hall, and Janus grinned mischievously, adjusting himself in his seat a bit in his excitement. Virgil gaped at him for a second before turning his head, calling to Roman, "We're in here love," Never breaking his gaze on Janus and shoveling another large scoop of salad into his mouth. Virgil was undeniably captivated by the strange behavior his boyfriend was displaying.

Roman stomped down the hall in a bit of a frenzy. "A WEEK!" He practically shouted, washing his hands as he exclaimed, "seven entire DAYS and I haven't seen Logan even a single time!" He scoffed to himself as he dried his hands. "Do you think it possible that he'd entirely drop from the show simply because I asked him on a date!? That seems HIGHLY improbable!" Roman huffed as he sat at the head of the table, beginning to grumpily serve himself.

"It's entirely possible that his absence is due to the fact that he's currently swamped with his Law studies. Any man knows balancing your time in our program is a god's errand." Janus spoke smoothly through a smirk, and Virgil's jaw dropped.

"'a god's errand?' my love, that's hardly what that saying means," Roman consoled, not having processed the rest of Janus' words. They both looked at him after a moment, and he returned their gazes confusedly. "What?"

Virgil snapped his head toward Janus. "You met him? He goes to your school??" Virgil was in absolute awe. His face looked frozen in terror, but Roman and Janus knew by now that he was, in fact, not horrified when he made that face.

"WHAT?" Roman was suddenly leaning a little too close to Janus. "You met him? You're sure it's him? Did you speak to him? Oh you must have - I'm SURE he couldn't keep himself away from you, you devilish minx - my goodness, what HAPPENED?" Roman was falling over himself, giving Janus a pleading look through his immense grin.

"Take a breath, please my dear," Janus cooed, reaching to hold Roman's hand. "I did... run into him, yes. Judging by your... very detailed description of him, Roman, I was suspicious from the get-go. When he told me his name, I was sure." Janus spoke, clearly struggling to conceal his excitement.

"You ran into him?" Virgil repeated, still looking completely appalled. Janus chuckled.

"Yes... we both happened to be searching for the same book, an optional assigned reading for our shared critical thinking class," Roman squealed in delight. Janus continued, "We quite literally bumped into each other, and... We searched for the book together. There were only two copies left, which was..."

"Perfect," Roman whispered, stars in his eyes. Virgil had taken to staring at his plate to hide his smile.

"I do have to concede, Roman, that he is in fact... incredibly dashing." Janus kissed Roman's knuckles, and Virgil shrunk a little further into his hoodie, face thoroughly tomatoed.

"S-so did you get his number, or what?" Virgil spoke breathily after a moment.

"Ah. No, not exactly. In fact, I hardly got him to share his name." Janus conceded, but his tone remained sultry and smooth. "However. We did decide to meet again, tomorrow. At the library once more, to study together." Janus tried to keep his sly smirk but it was churning itself into a giddy smile.

Roman groaned. "You HAVE to get his number tomorrow!!!! I don't know how I'll live with myself if I can never see him again..." Roman slumped in his chair, slamming his forehead a bit clumsily on the tabletop with a soft 'ow'. Janus chuckled at him.

"All in due time my dear, all in due time. I feel it is a bit... optimistic to suspect that our bespectacled spectacle is not only attracted to men, but polyamorous, or at minimum willing to be romantically involved with a partner who is in a separate polyamorous relationship..." Janus brought his hand to his chin, tapping his pursed lips with his index finger pensively. Roman looked up to engage himself in listening to Janus more properly. "He seems rather... fragile. I feel it may be important that we take our time with him, and do our best not to... overwhelm him with bouts of affection," Janus spoke carefully, looking at Roman pointedly, who smiled sheepishly.

"Ok cool. Yeah. I get it, you guys are the only ones who get to meet our future boyfriend," Virgil commented, the foreshadowing in his words entirely unknown to himself. "Can we just eat and deal with this later, once Jannie has had the chance to talk to the guy again?" Virgil acted annoyed, but the lingering rosy shade in his cheeks was an undeniable giveaway. His boyfriends smiled at him fondly.

"I love you, Virgil," Roman blurted, looking at Virgil with a shocking tenderness that made Virgil almost nervous. Roman reached out to take Virgil's hand, who quickly accepted.

"I love you too Ro," Virgil kissed the inside of Roman's wrist, doing his best in his gay panic state to let his sincerity bleed out a bit. "So so much."

Roman blushed, gripping the hem of Virgil's hoodie and yanking him into a kiss. If Roman's grip weren't iron, Virgil would have fallen face first onto the floor between them. Janus laughed at them, smiling bright and watching as Virgil struggled to remain balanced.

#sanders sides #loceit #janus sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #prinxiety #anaroceit #anxceit #roceit #anaroloceit #logince #loginceit #tags suck :P

[lu-undy]

Un-alone, Chapter 3

Here it is!

Was it only the water of the shower?

Non, his tears were mixing with it. His tears, and his blood. 

Lucien had only slept for a few hours. When he had come back from the gym, he cried himself to sleep, only to wake up on the carpeted floor of his hotel room, his head and hands on the coffee table, next to the letter. 

But now, he was taking a shower. 

He couldn't go to the funeral covered in bruises and dried blood. Non. He even thought that he couldn't go to the funeral at all. But he had to. This was his wife that they were putting underground, and he hadn't seen her in years.

Lucien rocked back and forth under the shower head. His eyes were closed and his arms wrapped around himself. He kept bumping his forehead against the tiled wall, a low drumming that gave him the illusion that time was stopping around him, that he could take that time, without it passing, without losing it. His tears did not stop.

He had talked to Marie, sometimes, on the telephone. Whenever his work took him to the United States, he would always stop at a public telephone booth and call the number he knew by heart. 

Like a teenager on the phone with their secret lover, he would speak low to her, for no one else to hear, even though the booth was closed and no one paid attention to him. He would lazily play with the phone cord around his gloved finger as he murmured words of love and longing to her. 

He would ask how Jérémy was and on the few occasions that it was Jérémy himself who picked the phone, Lucien would freeze, and it would take him a few seconds to clear his throat, collect himself and ask to speak to his mother. 

He had heard his son grow over the phone mostly. His voice went from a little boy's to a man's. The first time that Jérémy picked up the phone with a deeper voice, Lucien's eyebrows had jumped. 

"Who is this?" He had asked.

"It's Jay." The voice with the Boston accent answered. 

Lucien's jaw had dropped. 

"Jérémy?" His lips mumbled. 

"Yeah, funky accent you got there. Who's this?" 

The Frenchman gulped down hard and a trembling hand went to his brow. 

"May I speak with your mother, please?"

"Sure… Ma'! Phone's for ya!" 

"Hello?" The feminine voice was a delight to the spy's ears. 

"Marie?" 

"Oh, hey… Jay? Why don't you go out with your friends?"

Lucien waited for a few seconds. 

"Yeah, Lulu? Hon'? How are you?" 

"Jérémy…" He answered. "His voice…"

"Yeah, he's growin' up. He reminds me of you, in his own little way… Lulu? love, are you here?”

The spy had to look up to swallow back the tears that came to his eyes. His son was becoming a man…!

Last time he held him, the little boy could hardly walk. 

And Lucien remembered how he used to feed him, put him to sleep, play with the little blond baby. Ah, putting him to sleep was what Lucien would remember all his life and beyond. There was something of a deeper connection when the lights were out and baby Jérémy looking up at his then much younger father, with his hair still all black. The father would sing to his son and if at first Jérémy would play and laugh with him, soon, the deep and soothing sound of Lucien’s singing would put him to sleep. 

“I heard you sing to him.”

“Oui.” Lucien would slip in the bed with the woman who stole him off of the million arms of other, non important women. 

“What song is that?”

“A lullaby.”

“Sing it to me.”

“It is not in English, Marie.”

“I know, heard you purr like you do when you sing in French.” She laid her head on his chest and he switched the night lamp off. “So go ahead.”

Lucien looked down at her and smiled.

“Ne m’oublie pas,

[Don’t forget me.]

Je vais devoir m’en aller.

[I have to go.]

Ne m’oublie pas

[Don’t forget me.]

Tu ne dois pas pleurer.

[You must not cry.]

Même quand je suis très loin de toi,

[Even when I am very far from you,]

Tu restes dans mon coeur

[You remain in my heart.]

Je chante en secret chaque soir

[I sing in secret every night]

Pour que tu n’aies plus peur.

[So that you don’t feel scared]

Ne m’oublie pas,

[Don’t forget me,]

C’est à regret que je pars.

[It is with regret that I leave.]

Ne m’oublie pas, 

[Don’t forget me,]

Quand je chante, tu es dans mes bras.”

[When I sing, you are in my arms.]

He sang it again, translating himself and Marie looked up at him with a distraught smile on her lips. 

“We will miss you, hon’.”

“Me too.” He squeezed her tighter and adjusted the blanket on her back to better cover her.

“But we won’t ever forget you.”

Their eyes met and soon, their lips. 

Meanwhile, the old Lucien sighed under the continuous flow of the shower, the white noise of it covered his sniffles. He mechanically stopped the water and stepped out. 

He readied himself. Black suit and tie, black hat too and assorted, varnished shoes. 

He raised his eyes to the mirror and hated the sight. He had nothing against the suit, it did its job, making his cinder hair appear even lighter, the bags under his eyes and his slender cheeks a show of death itself. Non, what he hated was the insult of a man that stared back at him. 

Lucien put his gloves on his still bruised knuckles, to hide the misery he now had to, and made his way out without anything in his stomach. 

The taxi ride was as silent as it had been since he had learnt the news and jumped into the first plane for Boston. He had left Paris hurriedly, taking only what the letter from the American secret services had told him to. 

The flower is withering. Black suit. 

Of course, Lucien had trusted Fred with keeping an eye on Marie and Jérémy. But that telegram had killed him. He had wanted to see her before it was too late but Marie's lungs gave up before the Frenchman set a foot in America. 

"Here we are, Sir. And I'm sorry for your loss."

The driver's voice cut Lucien's train of thought. He paid what he owed, maybe more, God only knew, and he left. He passed the black wrought iron gates of the cemetery and walked resolutely to the group of people that he did not recognise. 

He kept his distance from them all but couldn't help hearing their low chatter. 

"Where's her husband?”

“Who?”

“Jay’s dad. Isn't he gonna come? Even for that?" 

"I don't know… Jay said his father's dead."

Lucien lowered his hatted head and frowned, exhaling from his nostrils angrily. 

"Mary told me it wasn't actually true."

"She lied to him?"

"No, he made this up because he got fed up with people askin' him about his dad." 

Lucien looked away but soon, silence fell. The coffin was brought forth and the priest started speaking.

He spoke at length about the courage of this single mother who raised and provided for those children, how she did a formidable job at it despite an absent and cowardly father. 

If only they knew… 

But where she was going, Mary would still see her boys, her little men. She would still be there for them. 

Such nonsense, Lucien was thinking. 

Mary was gone. She was dead. She wasn't there anymore with anyone. She wasn't there for Jérémy, she wasn't there for him, she was there for no one! 

Lucien thought he'd better get used to the hard truth rather than sugarcoat it with nonsense like that. 

Oh. 

They started lowering the coffin. 

Lucien heard the sniffles, the cries, the muffled tears in Marie's family. He wanted for the whole show to be done with to stay with her, alone. 

It lasted quite a while. As he eavesdropped on the conversations, he learnt that some people were family, some were friends, others, neighbours. 

They all put flowers down, candles, words on a letter that would crumple under the rain. But they eventually left. 

The Frenchman took a few steps forward, coming out of his hiding, and crouched down. 

"Marie…" 

Words failed him. 

"Ma petite fleur."

[My little flower.] 

He sniffled. 

"I beg you to forgive me." He paused. "I wasn't at your side when you most needed it. I failed you." 

Lucien wiped a tear with the back of his gloved hand. 

"I failed you as a husband, and I failed myself as a man. I took vows that I did not uphold."

No, Lulu, hon'... We agreed on this. I knew you had to be far for work and you only wanted to protect us. It's ok, it's alright-

"Non." Lucien answered the voice that he could only hear in his head. "Non, it is not alright. I swore, Marie. I swore that I would take care of you from the moment I said 'I do' in front of that priest and until death do us apart. I…" 

Had he been alone in his lonely room, he would have gone through yet another fit of sobs, of pulling his hair off his own head, of rocking back and forth like a madman. But he was out in the open and most importantly, he was right in front of the tombstone that shall haunt him from now on. 

"Hey! Who the hell're you?! Get the hell out of my Ma's grave!" 

Cold sweat. Lucien tapped a button on his watch and his silhouette vanished in a thin cloud of smoke. 

"Hey! What the-?!" 

The young man stopped, a few feet away from his mother's grave. Unbeknownst to him, his father was standing right in front of him, a hand on his own mouth and tears streaming down his face. 

More than twenty years. More than twenty years had passed and he was now seeing his son. 

Mon Dieu, he had his mother's kind eyes even though they were red with tears and slightly swollen, he had her gentle gaze, Lucien could see it. The blond boy had grown up and his hair had darkened to be dirty blond now. 

He had short hair and seemed uncomfortable in his black suit. Ah, he surely wasn't used to wearing one.

"Jay, you comin'?"

"Yeah, Auntie…" 

“Hurry up or I’ll send your brothers!”

Unbeknownst to him, Jérémy was squinting and staring through his very invisible father. He left soon after but Lucien remained, petrified. 

That was… Jérémy? 

The baby he had held in his arms all those years ago was now a man nearly as tall as him.

He stared at him as he made his way out, following the crowd, his family that surely somehow was Lucien's too. But he had never met them, never talked to them. He knew the names or the existence of a few of them, when Marie would tell him about them. 

But both had wanted to keep their private lives very much private. Marie knew her family would never approve of her marrying a stranger. Lucien was the only man to ever treat her as a woman, he knew that, she had told him that. He made her feel taken care of in his hands, even if he was absent most of the time. It was the respect he treated her with that made her cling to him at all costs, he knew it.

When he told her about his job and what he had to do sometimes, she had nodded. 

“Do you understand, Marie? I… I cannot be the family man that I should be. My job requires me to… to do unthinkable things that no one else can and… Sometimes, if you knew what I do, you would… You would doubt my feelings for you.”

“No.”

“Pardon?” He had asked in his mother tongue.

“No, Lulu. I know that you love me sincerely. And I love you the same way. I don’t care what your job is. I… I know you love it too and…”

“Marie, I am sorry.”

“No, let me finish.”

He was holding her in his arms, in their bed that morning.

“I had Fred talk to me.”

“Merde…” Lucien mumbled to himself.

[Shit.]

“He explained to me that you were a… a war hero…?”

He sighed, frowned and looked away.

“Is that true?” She insisted and he shook his head.

“Non. I just did what had to be done and what no one else could. It could have been anyone else. I just happened to be there at those times and places where my skills came in handy, nothing more.”

“Pff…” He looked at her and she was smiling. “Fred also said you’d say that. You’re a war hero and certainly, you’re my hero.” She leaned her head on his chest again and left a prude kiss.

“I know this is selfish of me but…”

“But what?” She raised her head to him and he held her hand in his.

“But I wish I could keep you forever, just for myself.” He closed his eyes but soon, he felt her shift on the bed. She lay down and pulled him to lay his head on her chest. 

“You say it as if it’s impossible.” She answered.

“I told you. I am away most of the time and this mission is coming to an end soon. I will have to leave.”

“What if we get married?”

Lucien’s eyes couldn’t have snapped wider.

But today, he could hardly keep them open. 

“Petite fleur…” He addressed the tombstone, as if Marie could still hear him. “Je suis désolé, mon amour.”

[Little flower… I am sorry, my love.]

Later that day, when he was alone in his room, drinking again, Lucien heard a knock on his door.

 “Go to hell.”

“L, it’s me.”

Lucien sighed. He recognised that voice. He stood up from the carpet and opened the door. 

“L? Hi…”

Lucien returned to sit on the sofa, the bottle of whiskey hadn’t left his hand. 

“What do you want?”

“Just to offer my condolences.” Fred closed the door and came to sit next to his French friend, who took a gulp of the bottle straight. He was still wearing his black attire, although the collar of the shirt was open and the buttons were undone. Seeing his old time colleague so disheveled made Fred frown. "I've never seen you like this before, pal… I thought you were the kind of sailor to have one woman in every harbour…"

Lucien raised dangerously piercing eyes to him. He did not like Fred's comment.

"Sorry. Didn't mean it to sound bad or anythin'. Is there anythin’ I can do?”

“Help me quit.”

“Yeah, you should quit your drinkin’, pal.”

“I did not mean it for the drinking.”

Fred’s eyebrows jumped. 

“You wanna quit your job?”

Lucien nodded.

“It killed one too many.” He took a generous gulp of the whiskey that now dripped at the corner of his lips. He wiped the mess with the back of his forearm.

“L, you know you can’t just quit. Besides, I was comin’ to talk to you about it.”

Finally, Lucien raised his eyes to his colleague. 

“We got some work to do. Well, you have.” The American got a cigarette pack out of his jacket and offered one to Lucien who winced and shook his head. Instead, the Frenchman went to grab his own cigarette case and let Fred light one for him. “Ah, yeah, you like yours French, eh…”

They puffed on their cigarettes and Fred looked around them. 

“Mind if I get myself a glass?”

Lucien motioned him to go ahead. The American went to the mini bar. 

“They knew up there that you’d like to retire after this. And if you don't mind me sayin', you and I aren't gettin' any younger. So they’ve sent me to suggest somethin’.”

Lucien raised an eyebrow and watched his friend grab a glass and pour some wine. He squinted to see the label and rolled his eyes, force of habit. As much as Lucien appreciated Fred, his taste in wine left a great deal to be desired…

“They say that you should get someone to work with you.”

“Non.”

“Hold on, let me finish…” The American spy joined his French colleague on the sofa again. “They say you should train a young one to replace you.”

Lucien’s eyebrows twitched. 

“Not that they’d manage to fit those big shoes of yours but, y’know, someone to replace you while you go and retire. What would you do? Go back to France, I guess?" 

The Frenchman sucked on his cigarette harder as he frowned. 

"Non."

"I knew you wouldn't like it so I told them. They're ok to give you an alternative." 

Lucien shook the cigarette in the ashtray on the coffee table and Fred noticed the bruises on his hands. 

"You could drop field work completely and train the young ones."

"Pff…" Lucien exhaled the smoke from his cigarette in a long gust. "And where is the choice? Either train one or train them all? Is that the choice that the country that I have lost everything for is giving me now, hm?" 

Fred could see his friend's fingers shake. He was mad and barely holding himself back. His chest betrayed his fast and short breathing. 

"Seems so. If that's any consolation, I'm trainin' one of them kids too. He isn't bright, hasn't learnt the job like you and I, but he works hard." Fred tapped his cigarette in the ashtray and lay back on the sofa. "They're givin' you a few days to think."

"I should go and kill them." The Frenchman said calmly. "One by one. Start with their loved ones and as they wonder what kind of curse had fallen on them, I would deal with them all."

"You can't get to your Minister of Defense…!" Fred scoffed but the gaze that Lucien gave him made him stop his chuckle sharp. "L…?"

"I could." 

"But you won't… Right?" 

The Frenchman stood up and went to the door that he opened and held wide. 

"Good night to you, Fred." 

"L…?"

"I said, good night."

Fred sighed. He walked to the door but didn’t leave yet. He turned to his French colleague and looked him in the eye.

“Don’t do anythin’ you’ll regret, eh?”

Lucien exhaled a bitter sigh of smoke.

“See ya.” Fred left and the Frenchman shut the door. 

He came back to his solitude.

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy #unalone

[ramblinganthropologist]

MER Week Day 2 - Long time no see

Summary: It’s been a while since Alistair Shepard and Garrus Vakarian have seen each other. They’ve been busy on their separate planets, helping in whatever ways they can to get things back to as normal as they’re going to get. However, with some free time, they’re finally getting to meet back up. Problem is... somebody forgot to mention the testosterone. Whoops. Well, at least Shepard’s got a free offer of carapace ripping from his sister if things go south.

(Set after ME3, enjoy your t4t shakarian lol)

---

Babe: See you at 3 then.

The message still glowed on his screen, burned into his retinas from the night before. It was the last message in a long conversation that had lasted well into hours he should have been sleeping, but it had been worth it. After all, it was important to hash out details when your fiancé was coming to visit.

It was even more important to do so in his circumstances.

“Fuck…”

The words leaked out from between Alistair’s teeth as he glanced around – the time said it was sometime after 2:40. Like always, campus was busy, full of his fellow students going from one class to another. Most of them look tired – and he understood that fully. Between med school and fighting the reapers… some days it could be a toss-up, depending on what he was doing.

Most days, med school won. Maybe that was a good thing? Or maybe he was just a sadist.

Regardless, campus was busy. It was easy to blend into the crowd like this as he sought a seat on a bench under a tree. All he could do was look at the screen of his omni-tool, frowning as he read through the messages.

He shouldn’t have been nervous… but he was.

Maybe that was why he clicked onto a new message window, just as busy as the one with the one he had been glancing at. Even better, the other person was online. Something like hope sprung into his chest as he started typing, fingers flying with the speed of an ex-Alliance officer.

Some things were fading with time – this probably never would.

Al: Where are my anxiety meds when I need them?

Bo: Relax, he’s going to love it. And if he doesn’t, there won’t be anything left to bury afterwards.

Bo: Or whatever turians do when they die.

“Nothing like threatening my fiancé to get me to calm down.” He chuckled despite himself, shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. However, a beeping drew his attention. Bo was attempting to video call him, which he was more than happy to accept.

Rannoch was as busy as ever on the other side of the line. He could see quarians and geth in the background, going about their business as his adopted sister focused her camera. Even after tweaking it, she was still a little skewed and not completely in the frame. However, she was allowed to be – her analogue sense of direction had saved his ass. She could be as out of focus as she wanted.

“I mean it, Al.”

He chuckled again. “I know, Bo. I guess I’m just nervous. I mean… we haven’t seen each other before…”

With his free hand, he gestured towards his body. Some days, especially in the early morning when he was half asleep, he was still unable to believe what was actually happened. It seemed more like a dream… at least until his voice cracked. It was doing that far less as his range settled, but still. At his age, it was kind of embarrassing.

Oh well, puberty was rough, especially when it was triggered for a second time in his 30’s.

“Told you that you should’ve sent him more dick pics.” Bo’s tone was flat as a pancake as she adjusted her camera – still out of focus. Now he was getting a view of Rannoch’s currently cloudless sky. Last time he had seen it, it had been full of Reapers. Honestly, he preferred it without them. Much friendlier. “Just relax. You know he thinks you’re hot as hell. All you have to do is use your commander Shepard voice and he’ll be eating out of your hand.”

Alistair felt his face color a little as he looked to the side. “I’m not going to use that in public…”

“You know what I mean. An Adam’s apple isn’t going to turn him off, so no sense worrying about it.” She paused, and he swore her eyes glowed. Maybe that was the camera angle? “And if it does…”

He could already see the threat – beating him with his own carapace was one of her favorites. He had never actually seen someone do it, but it was a classic at that point.

“Yeah, I know - death and calamity upon his head like you’ve only reigned down on the last guy who tried to take your crown.”

“He’s still recovering.” There was pride in her voice at that, and she should have it. After all, it wasn’t every day a human went undefeated in Omega’s underground Krogan wrestling tournaments. Surviving the reapers only brought better challengers, and it seemed to keep her well supplied with cannon fodder. “But anyway, just go for it.”

There was a pause, and her camera focused momentarily. “Also, since when did you start growing a beard?”

Oh, hail the mighty power of testosterone…

“Like two months ago, shaving sucks.” A beeping drew his attention – his heart raced at the sight of a new message. “Gotta go… I think that’s him.”

“Remember, just call me if you need his carapace ripped off.”

After the offer of violent assault, the call disconnected and left Alistair alone with his thoughts as he switched back over to his messages. Just like he thought, the message was from a certain someone he was waiting for. His heart jumped into his throat as he glanced around – nope, not there yet.

Babe: Almost there, got a little lost. I’ll never understand human city planning.

He always said that. Still, it made the ex-marine chuckle as he stood, waiting. Soon enough, they would be together again. It had been far too long, and the distance achingly wide. But now that the relays were working again, it was possible.

Note to self: maybe don’t take out the relays next time he saved the universe. It made travel a nightmare to say the least.

At least it wasn’t a long wait. Out of the corner of his eye, Alistair spotted movement that didn’t quite track for tired med student. It was too focused for that, and the pace was all wrong anyway. Plus, the whole carapace and being like seven feet tall thing helped, but it didn’t sound nearly as cool as the former.

“Alright, just… relax. Like Bo said…”

Of course, that didn’t help the butterflies in his stomach as he stood, adjusting his shirt. All the logic in the world couldn’t have saved him then as he watched the turian approach, clearly scanning the crowd for familiar markers. His heart stopped when their eyes met in the crowd, blue into blue.

Garrus was looking good for someone who had nearly died killing Reapers.

“Al?”

There was no mistaking the surprise in the turian’s voice as he made his way over to the tree. When he finally got there, his mandibles flapped like flags in the wind. The gears were turning in his brain, no doubt running countless calibrations. In a weird way, it was kind of cute.

At the same time, it was fucking nerve wracking. Talk about a conflict of interest.

Still, it was Garrus, and he was finally there. That was enough to put a smile on Alistair’s face as he reached out to take the turian’s taloned hand. It was just as rough and warm as he remembered, and his fingers still stretched as they laced together. It might have been a little sore, but muscle memory wasn’t letting him down.

“Hey, babe. Good to see you got here in one piece.”

Thank the universe his voice didn’t crack with that one. Maybe this was the thanks he got for saving it.

At least Garrus had the good grace to not look as though his jaws had stopped working. Alistair did get to watch his eyes travel downward in the classic once-over, though. All the while, his stomach bubbled. It felt as though a heavy weight was poised to drop on his head, and all he could do was stand there and wait.

Eventually, the turian squeezed back carefully, the blunt side of his talons sliding down his fingers. “So, I guess this is why you’ve been so shy about video calling me lately?”

“My voice was cracking really badly up until about a month ago, you were saved a lot of translator feedback.” He smiled, sheepish. “But… yeah. I didn’t really know how things were going to turn out and…”

His voice trailed off as he felt heat leak into his cheeks. “Here’s hoping you still think I’m hot?”

Yep, his voice definitely cracked at the end there. Maybe the universe had it in for him after all. At least Garrus didn’t wince too hard at the sudden shift – good old turian military training there. Still, he hadn’t said anything yet. That… wasn’t promising.

Maybe he should have sent those dick pics?

“You… what’s that called again?” Garrus cocked his head to the side in a gesture that always made him look cute and kind of bird-like. “On your face. Joker was always talking about his.”

Right, turian…

“Beard. And mine’s not quite as good as his yet I’m afraid but give me a few months and I’ll see what I can do.” He chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand, fingers ghosting over his amp. It hadn’t seen action in almost a year now, and it was still odd to feel it cool to the touch.

Much to his relief, Garrus nodded. “It looks good now. I mean, you look good in general and all… I thought turian reactions to hormones were impressive, but humans are something else.”

“Gotta love those secondary sexual characteristics, babe.” Relief flooded through Alistair’s system as he sighed in relief. “And I think you just saved yourself getting your carapace ripped off by my sister.”

Hooray – that would have been a nightmare to fix.

Now it was the turian chuckling as he reached down to press his faceplates to his forehead in an alien version of a kiss. It was a gesture that always got his heart racing, even if it was just a quick peck. He had missed that in their time apart – texting just couldn’t beat actual contact.

“That’s probably for the best. I’ve not had a lot of practice lately, might be getting a little rusty.”

Alistair chuckled as they started to walk through the crowd. “You, rusty? I find that hard to believe.”

“Oh, no, it’s true. Barely had any time to run calibrations even, I’m starting to worry I’ll forget.”

That time, they shared a laugh between them. Maybe this was what Alistair had missed the most in the time spent on different planets – there was just something about the interplay between human and turian laughter that made his insides feel warm. Or maybe that was just his reaction to Garrus in general. Right then, anything was possible.

Still, he felt his face color a little as he looked to the side. “I’m sorry I didn’t send any in-progress shots. Bo could confirm any embarrassing details if you asked her.”

“Trust me, I get it. Remind me when we get back to your place to tell you about how I didn’t tell my sister I was going on hormones until after she came back from basic.” Another squeeze. “Of course, if you wanted to test that new vocal range out in some more strenuous conditions first…”

Oh, there was nothing friendly about that gaze. And it was something Alistair could appreciate as he squeezed back. Home was well prepped for what they both had in mind – they just had to get there first. Lucky for him, he lived within walking distance of campus.

The chuckle that escaped his lips was definitely not of the innocent afternoon type as he leaned in so only the turian could hear him. “I think that can be arranged, Vakarian. Better pick up the pace, though.”

“Sir, yes, sir.”

With that, it was off they went at a faster rate, not quite a run but definitely quick. With the sun shining and thoughts about what was waiting for him when he got home, Alistair was once again glad the whole universe saving thing had worked out for the better.

Now… what exactly was he going to do with the turian when he got home? The options were endless…

#merweek2021 #Alistair Shepard #garrus vakarian #ft. Bo Peep Shepard

[duskandstarlight]

Embers & Light (Nessian multichapter fic)

Chapter 19 - Nesta

This is too long for Tumblr, so read part of it below but all of it on A03.

Emerald blazed threateningly in the dark forest and Nesta’s stomach lurched.

She wanted to snap at Cassian to move — to do something to stop the Illyrian from firing his arrows — but he remained fixed in place, his siphons winking but unused, as if he were out of power. He was still holding Nesta behind him, his grip tight around her arm. And Nesta knew, as surely as breathing, that he would do anything to make sure that she remained unharmed — even if he had yet to move a muscle.

Slowly, Cassian held up his other hand in surrender. Again, the siphon on the finger straps of his leathers flashed through the darkening forest.

“It’s me, Lorrian.”

Hard hazel eyes scanned over them both and Nesta watched them flicker in recognition as they settled on Cassian.

With an angry growl, the Illyrian lowered his bow. His wings flared before they retracted back in again, the same way Cassian’s did when he was pissed off.

“You couldn’t have just warned us of your arrival in your usual fashion, you stupid prick? What the fuck happened to you?”

The males voice was bass and sonorous. It bounced off the trees and rattled through Nesta in a way that made her bones feel brittle. She watched those sharp eyes flit around the dell. His expression turned grim as he took in the charcoaled and bloody remains.

“Fucking kerits, that’s what,” Cassian snapped. “A whole pack of them. Since when do they come this far down from the mountains? We nearly died.”

The males expression turned grim. He kicked at a severed head and Nesta watched it roll into the foliage, tongue still pink and lolling. “I’ve never seen them down here before. What was that silver streak? It looked like fire. It shook the perimeter like nothing I’ve ever experienced. I thought the house was going to come down.”

“That was Nesta,” Cassian explained shortly. “We were trying to get to safety. I thought her magic might pierce through Frawley’s magic. Instead, it felt like a cannon had gone off. It scared off the rest of the kerits and threw me into a boulder.”

Wincing, Cassian brought a hand to his shoulder as if he were remembering the impact. “It near dislocated my shoulder.”

Cassian turned to Nesta then, a critical eye running over her body. Despite her blood splattered face and hair, Nesta was otherwise unharmed. The kerits hadn’t even come close to touching her. She’d incinerated her half circle and Cassian had dealt with his.

“Any injuries I should know about?” he asked her.

Nesta shook her head, but Cassian’s gaze lingered on her a few moments longer, as if he weren’t sure he believed her. Even she was suffering from disbelief; they had been so outnumbered it seemed a miracle that neither of them were suffering from major injuries.

When Cassian seemed satisfied she wasn’t hiding anything, he waved a tired hand. “Nesta meet Lorrian. Although Lorrian is Illyria’s best aerial warrior, it would appear your power managed to scare the shit out of him — congratulations.”

The stern expression of the male - Lorrian - did not disappear at the introduction, and Nesta watched him cross his arms tightly across his muscled chest, the green magic of his right arm flaring from the movement. His piercing look was one of a warrior but Nesta did not flinch, she just stared right back. She was well versed in staring down opponents — what was another Illyrian bat?

It only took a few seconds for Cassian’s words to sink in. Lorrian’s eyes cut sharply from Nesta to Cassian. “Are we talking of the female who killed the King of Hybern?”

Cassian’s hand was instantly on the small of Nesta’s back as she stiffened habitually. The gesture was unusual; Cassian rarely touched her without cause. She resisted the urge to bat him away. When Lorrian tracked the movement she knew why Cassian had done it. It was protective — he was telling Lorrian where his loyalties lay.

Deep in the pit of her stomach, Nesta felt something primal growl.

It made her want to seethe at the same time her body melted into the sound.

“That would be the very same female,” Cassian said with a lightness that was laced with warning. “Feel free to thank her any time.”

A beat of silence followed as the warrior examined the female before him, but then Lorrian’s hardened expression relaxed, and in its wake — a smile. It transformed his face in the same way Cassian’s changed from General to the male she knew when he was off-duty. It was an intentional crack in his armour and the open vulnerability of the action did not escape Nesta. Never had she been that willing to shed her mask for someone she had met moments before. Even her sisters hadn’t seen all of her.

“Well, why didn’t you say? It’s good to meet you, Nesta Archeron.”

A large hand was thrust out towards her — the one that wasn’t glazed in emerald light — for Nesta to shake.

Nesta hesitated for a moment before she moved to grasp Lorrian’s hand. His hazel eyes were sincere and his gaze unwavering, and although her movements were stiff and measured, she made sure her handshake was firm when she grasped his own, even if her hands were spotted with blood.

Lorrian didn’t seem to mind. He bowed his head respectfully at her before he turned to Cassian. It was not a move that Nesta had seen any other Illyrian male do to another female.

“You had better come inside in case there’s anything else lurking about. Frawley will want to see you and you could both do with cleaning up. When she learns about the kerits, she might not be so pissed that you tried to break through her protective magic.”

Cassian winced. “If the witch bids it, I suppose we better.”

Lorrian barked a laugh as he held up his palm to gap between the boulders. It was identical to what she and Cassian did when they entered the bungalow. Emerald siphons flared and the invisible barrier began to fizzle away from the inside out; a splash of gold in the dark.

Exhaustion was pressing on Nesta so keenly that she had to summon all of her focus into getting her body to move forward. Cassian seemed to sense it, his eyes flickering briefly with remorse as they both followed Lorrian to the gap between the boulders. For a moment, Nesta thought Cassian was going to offer to carry her but he clearly thought better of it, gesturing for her to walk through the pocket before him with that crooked half-smile of his.

The hole in the protective bubble sealed with more fizzling, golden light as soon as Cassian had passed through. With it came an overwhelming sense of relief. Unlike the woodland they had left behind them, the forest here felt lighter, as if it were completely devoid of threat. Around them, the woody terrain was alive with movement: birds sung in the trees and small animals scuttled amongst the foliage. Even the trees and plants seemed to take on a brighter and more vibrant quality, the green so lush that if Nesta weren’t so weary, she would bend down to run her fingers through the fluffy woodruff with its constant smattering of tiny, white flowers that grew beneath the pine trees.

“So what actually brought you both here?”

Lorrian’s voice broke Nesta out of her reverie. He was speaking over his shoulder and he looked at Nesta first before his eyes travelled beyond her to land on Cassian. They were walking in single file down a narrow track between the trees, with Lorrian leading the way and with Cassian at the rear. Nesta had no doubt that it was an intentional positioning from Cassian. She could still feel his urge to protect combined with guilt that laced her stomach. The latter was no doubt eating away at him. He clearly hadn’t thought the barrier would react so strongly to her fire or that they would be in danger in the forest.

“I haven’t seen you for a few months,” Lorrian finished. His pointed look at Cassian told Nesta that a visit was overdue. “I imagine it wasn’t your intention to be hijacked by kerits.”

“I took Nesta to see Kamanam today,” Cassian told Lorrian after he had huffed a dark laugh. “We were close by so I thought we’d say hello. We were surrounded by those cackling shits as we headed down into the dell.”

Lorrian stared at Cassian for a little too long but he only nodded silently to show that he had heard. His siphons glowed and with it, the bow and arrows strapped to his back disappeared. The light encasing his arm also vanished, revealing nothing but air from a few inches below Lorrian’s shoulder. His leathers had been tailored to accommodate for his missing limb, the fabric sewn neatly around the stump.

“And how did you like Kamanam, Nesta?” Lorrian asked.

Knowing not to stare at the male’s missing arm, Nesta kept her gaze straight ahead. The path had widened and Lorrian dropped back a few steps so he was side-by-side with her. The movement was slightly laboured, as if he were adjusting to the loss of balance. He was watching Nesta with apprehension — as if he were expecting her to recoil. Nesta wanted to tell him that she was broken too and that she didn’t care to judge anybody, but as usual, her throat had become too tight so she flicked her eyes up to meet his head on.

Something that Nesta translated as respect tinged with relief flickered behind Lorrian’s irises, and the muscles in his shoulders relaxed, as she managed to admit, “The Arches are very beautiful.”

But then we nearly died, Nesta wanted to say, but didn’t.

The conversation was such a stark contrast to moments before — casual rather than frenzied — but from the unease laced with pine that sat heavily within her, Nesta knew that this was Cassian’s coping mechanism; feigning joviality because otherwise the gravity of what had happened would be too much.

And Lorrian seemed to know that, too.

His head bobbed. “You should come back on a clear day. Get this one to fly you over the water.” He jerked his head to Cassian who was still a few paces behind. “Frawley and I do it even now, and we’ve been living here for years.”

“If you think I’m ancient,” Cassian told Nesta, the low rumble of his voice travelling the distance, “then you should ask Frawley how old she is. She’s never answered me and I’m still burning with curiosity.”

Lorrian chuckled. “Don’t do that, Nesta. Not if you want to live, at least.”

Lorrian’s features were nothing but friendly now and in the dappled light between the trees, Nesta was able to study him more closely. His dark, curly hair was cropped close to his head and flecked with silver. If Lorrian were human, Nesta would guess that he was forty-or-so, but she had no idea what that made him in Fae terms. He was leaner than Cassian, which wasn’t wholly a surprise; Nesta had never met an Illyrian who was larger or stronger than Cassian. Even so, Lorrian’s remaining arm was still corded with impressive muscle and his skin was marked with the same black tattoos, interspersed with scars.

Nesta couldn’t find it in herself to reply to Lorrian. Perhaps she should have felt warier that she was about to meet a witch, but with every step they took through the woodland, the worse she felt. Her brain became more foggy, her limbs weighing her down like lead. And on top of it all, an all-consuming sense of exhaustion had overcome her.

If she were alone, Nesta would have curled up on the forest floor and made her bed amongst the woodruff and wooly thyme.

“Home sweet home.”

Lorrian’s words pierced through the fog and Nesta managed to drag her eyes up from the soft undergrowth to look ahead of her.

They had just navigated a sharp right-hand turn in the dirt path, and in the distance Nesta could make out a large, thatched cottage. The walls were the colour of magnolia and the red brick chimney was spouting soft billowy smoke.

Yet, whilst it appeared to be a beautiful sanctuary, Nesta found her spine stacking stiffly against her. Nesta hadn’t stepped foot in anyone’s home except Cassian’s in months, and he was the only person who knew she was afraid of fire. How many open and roaring hearths were there going to be in the cottage? How was she going to avoid losing control when already she felt like someone was closing a fist around her windpipes? How was she going to step over threshold without losing it completely? How was she —

Worry stabbed through Nesta so fiercely that her breath caught. She was so preoccupied in trying to take air into her lungs that she didn’t have a spare thought to identify that it wasn’t her own. As they neared the property, Nesta barely saw the chickens in the coop or the horses in the paddock. She didn’t even notice the honeysuckle — her favourite — that climbed up the exterior walls of the cottage. Her lungs rattled as panic clawed through her. Silver spluttered and died at her fingers, her power still too spent from earlier to protect her. Something cracked inside of her; light rushing into the dark, icy water rushing over warm sand.

“Nesta.”

In the far distance, she heard her name but it was muffled. She felt as if she were drowning underwater. It felt like the Cauldron all over again.

She choked on air.

“Nesta.”

This time the sound had a distinctive voice. Something turned inside of her, like a key clicking in a lock, and as her vision started to clear, she made out the large shadowed outline of a male as he stepped towards her. Startled, Nesta flew backwards, an unknown burst of energy taking hold of her. Her hands instinctively balled into fists, but then the scent of pine and musk washed over her and with it came a sense of calm and clarity.

Slowly, her fists unfurled.

“It’s just me,” Cassian said. His words floated towards her. He was still nothing but shadow; large, muscular body and impressive wings. “I’m going to touch you. Ok?”

A strangled noise emitted from her throat and then a large, warm hand was resting on her cheek.

Unthinkingly, Nesta reached up to grab it. Her fingers closed around the hand as her eyes started to see again.

Cassian’s face swam into view. Even through the cracked and dried blood, the concern etched upon his face was so stark she knew that he believed himself responsible for her trauma.

Taking her hand, Cassian rested her palm flat over his chest. Beneath leather and skin, she could feel the pounding of his heart as it threw itself hard against his ribcage, and in her stomach… so much guilt the emotion was bitter on her tongue.

“Breathe with me,” he ordered, before he proceed to take a long, slow breath in.

The sensation of air rushing into his chest was like a balm, and Nesta found herself following his breathing until her lungs no longer rattled and her vision righted completely.

“Is it the chimney?” Cassian asked when her breathing became even, enough that she was no longer gasping. “Or is it... everything that just happened?”

Nesta’s fingers curled around his hand and pressed once into his palm at the same time as she nodded. Both.

“The fire won’t make any noise,” he promised her. “I’d say I’d take you home, but you look like you’re going to collapse and the flight is over an hour.”

Even as he spoke, she knew that if she insisted he would take her back to Windhaven. There was such sincerity in his voice and expression that it hurt to look at him, so she cast her eyes beyond him to their surroundings.

Lorrian was nowhere to be found. Dread twisted through her and that panic started to rise again.

“Where—” Nesta started, but her breath had started to shudder again so she trailed off. There was no point in asking anyway. Of course Lorrian had witnessed it all. No doubt Cassian had asked him to go inside to give them some privacy.

The knowledge was mortifying.

“I asked Lorrian to go inside and silence the fires.”

He squeezed Nesta’s fingers then. She still hadn’t let go of him. The warmth of his touch was comforting against her ice cold skin. It chased away the numbness that was hovering over her like a threat.

“Lorrian suffers from battle trauma, too,” Cassian told her. “You saw his arm?”

Nesta dipped her chin. The action took all of her effort.

“He’s fighting a lot of demons. He won’t mention it. Neither will Frawley. She’s Lorrian’s wife. She’s a witch — she can magic the fire so it won’t make any noise.”

Silence stretched between them. Nesta tried to process his words and form a response, but it was too difficult. The heaviness was washing over her again and already she had started to become unfeeling.

As if Cassian could sense that he was losing her, he dragged a coarse thumb over the back of her hand. The sensation was muted, as if it were happening far, far away.

“I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely.

Nesta stared at him. She wanted to frown and ask him why, but words had become difficult again.

Cassian shook his head. The gesture was remorseful and… he was angry at himself. “I shouldn’t have taken you here. Frawley’s portion of the forest has always been the safest—”

“Cassian.”

Cassian broke off as a small, petite female walked briskly towards them. She was wearing a long smock dress which was belted loosely at the waist with leather and made up of different shades of grey. The way her skirts swished around her as she moved gave off the illusion that she was walking through smoke. Pure, white hair fell just below the female’s shoulders and as she came closer, Nesta saw that her eyes were different colours; the left honey brown and the right ice blue. The effect was so startling that half of her face seemed to be bathed in light and the other in dark.

“You scared the shit out of my husband,” she told Cassian brusquely, as she drew up short in front of them.

Cassian made a noise in the back of his throat. The sound reverberated through Nesta. “Did he tell you about the kerits?”

The female — Frawley — snorted in an unkempt sort of way that would have resulted in upturned noses if they were in the human realm. Nesta got the impression that Frawley wouldn’t care. She struck Nesta as the sort of female whose mannerisms were clipped and to-the-point. She didn’t seem like the sort of person who would give a second thought to lady-like behaviour and would impale anyone who decided that they should put her down.

“Introduce me to your companion, Cassian,” Frawley ordered. “And I’ll pretend not to know that this is Nesta Archeron until you do so.”

Cassian grunted in exasperation but his pupils were no longer dark. He had turned to greet Frawley but he hadn’t let go of Nesta’s hand. Frawley’s ice blue eye darted down to glance at it. Cassian squeezed her fingers before he let go, his hand immediately finding purchase on the small of her back again. Encouragement, she realised, for the social situation he knew she did not want to be in.

This time Nesta didn’t want to bat him away. She felt frayed and raw, his touch the only thing keeping her tethered to the present.

“Frawley, meet Nesta Archeron. Nesta, Frawley is the witch who oversees the Eastern territory of The Steppes. And,” he said with a deliberate pause for emphasis, “is supposed to keep the beasts in the forest under control.”

Frawley made a disapproving noise in the back of her throat at Cassian’s words but she did not retaliate. She only rested her disconcerting eyes on Nesta. They seemed to work independently of one another and brown found Nesta after blue.

“We can’t leave it solely to males to protect, can we Nesta?” Frawley clipped. “Now, do come in, it’s getting dark and Caerleon gets forlorn when I leave him inside for too long.”

As she spoke, a sound halfway between a whine and a roar came from the cottage door. Frawley looked pointedly at them as if to indicate the sound had proven her point, before she turned sharply on her heel.

Somehow Nesta made her legs move, even though she wanted nothing more than to sink to the ground. As if he knew how badly she was faring, Cassian kept his hand on her lower back. The sensation alone was enough to keep her upright. She would not add to her burning shame by having to be carried across the threshold. It was bad enough that Cassian had to fly her everywhere as it was.

“That’s quite some power you expelled.” Frawley threw Nesta a discerning look over her shoulder. “I bet you’re feeling drained.”

“Yes,” Nesta said simply, because she couldn’t say anything more.

“Nothing I can’t sort out,” Frawley clipped as she opened the cottage door. It was a wooden stable door, the top half already open. Nesta saw a blur of sandy fur and she tensed instinctively.

A thumb caressed her back, the movement soothing against the sudden terror that gripped her — telling her that it was ok, that the kerits had gone and they were safe.

“Calm down Caer, you stupid Manticore, it’s just Cassian,” Frawley snapped, but a huge moving body of light tan fur jostled the female to the side. Frawley growled in irritation but Nesta barely heard it, she was too busy staring at the beast that had emerged in the doorway.

It was massive. At first, Nesta thought it was a huge lion with a long shaggy mane made of burnt orange, but as it prowled towards her, she could see large, leathery wings on its back and its tail, which was flicking at the tip, was not made up of a tuft of hair but of long spikes like that of a porcupine. The beast’s large paws thudded on the earth and its eyes were molten gold. It was beautiful and deadly and if Nesta had it in her to be afraid she would have already been running.

She took a step backwards, bumping into Cassian’s hard chest.

“Don’t mind Caerleon,” Frawley called quickly to Nesta. She had obviously seen the blood drain from her face. She pronounced the name kaa-lee-uhn, the mystical name rolling off her tongue effortlessly. “He looks terrifying but he’s essentially a big teddy bear when he’s at home.”

Nesta remained stock still as the animal came to a stop a few feet in front of her. It stared at her, its head low and its tail flicking, as if it were measuring her up.

Then Caerleon’s eyes slid to Cassian.

The manticore’s body straightened and his tail shot straight up, curling into a question mark, the needles of his tuft relaxed and soft like the spines of a thistle.

To Nesta’s amazement, the animal trotted over to Cassian with a low whine that sounded like a greeting.

“Hello you beautiful beast,” Cassian said with a low laugh.

Caerleon knocked his head hard into Cassian’s upper torso, rubbing his face against the leather like a cat branding its owner. Dropping his hand from Nesta, Cassian buried his fingers deep into the animal’s mane and ruffled the fur. Caerleon’s purr rumbled so deep that Nesta felt it in her chest but she was reeling from the loss of contact.

It was startling and Nesta felt cold.

She began to slip.

Frawley tutted. “Cassian is the only Fae Caer has ever met who is large enough not be knocked back when he does that. Now, you come with me, Nesta. You look dead on your feet.”

Nesta allowed herself to be led through the hallway, straight into a wide, open kitchen. Frawley sat Nesta down at a large, worn pine table opposite the huge hearth. As promised, the fire was silent, the flames dancing gently as they licked their way up the chimney as if the quiet had brought them calm. The knowledge that there would be no cracking bones eased the tight set of Nesta’s shoulders, even if she did feel like she was hovering above her body, looking down at herself.

She looked very ill, that much she knew, but she couldn’t speak or will her expression into something better. Even her neck felt heavy, the thought of turning to look for Cassian too much, so she stared at the silent fire until she became entranced.

In the distance, Nesta heard clattering — someone moving about the kitchen — and then a warm mug was pressed into her ice-cold hands.

“Drink this,” a stern voice told her. “It’s not too hot, so drink it right up.”

Nesta did as she was told. It tasted of chamomile and honey and... something she couldn’t put her finger on. She didn’t care to ask. With each sip, Nesta felt her body hum and tingle until her body realigned and she was just Nesta sitting in a stranger’s kitchen.

Frawley must have sensed a change in her because she took Nesta’s mug. With a swish of her charcoal skirts she walked over to a steaming cast iron pot on the stove and ladled some more liquid into it.

“Better?” Frawley asked as she handed it back to Nesta. “Best drink another cup. You expelled an awful lot of power in one go.”

Nesta frowned, thinking back to how her power had leapt to the clearing between the boulders.

“I couldn’t stop it,” she told Frawley. “I tried to sever the connection.”

Read the rest of the chapter here.

#acosf #acotar #cassian #nessian #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron #nessianfic #nestaarcheron #nesta

[jinned]

reading the stars | jimin

snippet: it’s Jimin’s birthday and what better way to celebrate than by telling him all about his astrology chart?

pairing: jimin x female reader

genre: fluff

au: slice of life, established relationship

rating: pg

word count: 1.5k

warnings: none!

a/n: this is a birthday gift for my lovely friend @parksfilter​!! Kenz, you are such a sweet soul that has blessed my life. I hope you enjoy this little fic and that you have the best day! today is your day! thank you for being such an amazing friend to me and I hope that you’ll be in my life for many more years to come!

“Where are we going?” Jimin huffs behind a pile of blankets tickling at his nose. The air is crisp and cold tonight, not unlike any other night really, but tonight, it feels more alive.

“Hurry up and you’ll find out!” You call behind you, unable to hide the giant smile growing across your face.

You and Jimin have been dating just a little over four months now, and things have never been better. Normally, you’re not the type of girl to celebrate every single “monthiversary”, but tonight is slightly different.

"The perfect way to end the perfect birthday!" Jimin smiles blissfully as you both trek up the hillside.

"You literally just asked where we were going not even two seconds ago!" You laugh, transitioning the picnic basket from one hand to the other. This hill is a lot steeper than what you remembered from last time you were here a few weeks ago. Hair is flying out of your ponytail and into your face as you desperately try to mask your heavy breathing.

"The stars are out, the moon light is shining, and I'm with you. It's already perfect." Jimin smiles at you and leans in for a quick peck on your lips, which requires you to maneuver around the armfull of blankets.

Pausing on the hillside, you melt into his kiss, wishing it was longer. But there is plenty of time for that later. For now, you need to get to your destination.

After a few more moments of walking, you finally round the curve of the hill and reach your spot.

"Ah, finally!" You groan and jog over to the flattened ground. There's a large maple tree with leaves sprouting new orange spots, some quivering with the anticipation of falling soon. You motion for Jimin to place the blanket down further away from the tree, so that it'll be in the background to where you’ll be sitting. You were hoping more of the leaves had fallen so that you could sit beneath it and view the sky between the skeletal branches, but this will do just fine.

Once the blanket is placed, Jimin promptly jumps down upon it, opening his arms to accept the picnic basket, which you hand over willingly.

Inside, there's sandwiches, some of your favorite chips and crackers and a small slice of cake you got from the bakery down the street from where you live. You figured it would be too hard to lug around an actual full sized cake. There's some fun candles tucked tightly in your pant pocket that you're just itching to light for your boyfriend.

The food disappears fast as you both laugh through full mouths, sparkling cider even coming out of Jimin's nose after you tell the world's lamest joke.

"You're so..." Jimin coughs, trying to contain his coated bubbled laughter, "you're so stupid. How are you still this funny after months of us being together?"

Smirking, "That's the beauty of my charm. It never fades."

Jimin shakes his head at your humble response, looking up at the sky and getting lost in the stars.

"Weird to think that people spend their whole life studying those small specs of light, huh?" There's wonder in his eyes, a look not so foreign to you now.

You sit back and look up with him. "Right? I can't believe that people still deny astrology is real even though it's literally based on the stars themselves. There's science backing it all up."

Jimin makes a clicking sound with his tongue, moving his mouth sideways as he adjusts his sitting position. "I don't blame the skeptics. Astrology is so...weird. People base their whole identities around it and believe in horoscopes as if some stranger actually knows them."

"But, you just said people dedicate their lives to the stars. Isn't it kinda like, the same thing?" You crumple up your sandwich wrapper and toss it back into the basket, a little nervous that instead of celebratory, the conversation is becoming more stiff. The edge of the blanket looks enticing to fidget with, but you choose to stare at your boyfriend instead. His eyes look beyond the hillside thoughtfully, flicking his gaze up to the stars ever so slightly. Lip raw from gnawing on it so often, Jimin continues to grab at his bottom lip with his teeth, gnawing softly and slowly as he ponders over his next few thoughts.

"It just feels so...out of reach I guess. Kinda like magic."

"People are scared of it because of how real it feels. And it's different." Calmly, you scoot a little bit closer to Jimin and rest your head on his shoulder. Instantly, he leans his head on top of your own and it’s a comforting, familiar feeling that puts your previous anxieties at ease.

"I didn't know you were so passionate about astrology," he states.

"We've been together all these months now! How could you not have known? I swear I talk about it all the time."

"I guess you have mumbled a few words under your breath about random strangers before,” he chuckles, “I didn't really understand and always forgot to ask." 

You laugh, leaning away from Jimin as you do so.

"That's me publicly guessing what someone's sun sign could be! Like, when there’s a girl at the mall looking back and forth between two of the same shirt in two different colors? Classic Libra sun. Or when you hear someone laughing loudly and everyone just naturally gravitates towards them? Gemini sun or Leo sun."

Jimin stares at you with large, confused doe eyes.

Thinking for a moment, it finally hits you why he's staring at you this way, "you don't know what a sun sign is, do you?" You cry out in frustration. Jimin just casually shrugs and takes a sip of his water.

"Do you even know what your own sun sign is?" The surprise is overtaking all of your other emotions. This is pretty basic stuff that most people know. Nowadays, people know which hogwarts house they belong in, their MBTI, and their sun, moon, and rising signs. Hell, it's in almost every girl's Instagram bio.

Sighing louder than normal, you wrap your arms around the side of Jimin's shoulders and squeeze him tightly. "This was supposed to be your birthday date night, but now it's a lecture. Before we have cake you will learn your astrology chart."

Jutting out his bottom lip, Jimin stares at you with wide pleading eyes, like a toddler asking for a toy in the store.

"But...it's my birthday," he says in his overly cute child-like voice that is nearly impossible for you to say no too. Your eye practically twitches with the thought of telling this adorable boyfriend of yours no.

Yet, you hold strong, shaking your head quickly while shutting your eyes- the only true way to combat his adorable pleading gaze.

“We are doing this right now and if you do well, IF, then your reward will be the cake.”

Groaning, Jimin rocks back on his tailbone, his criss-crossed legs going up in the air as he holds tightly to his knees with his hands. 

“Fine,” he gives up, “let’s get this over with.”

With newfound energy, you reach into the picnic basket and pull out your pen and notepad- which you have with you at all times for instances just like this, then you roll onto your stomach with your phone in your hands. “Okay, so there’s this website I use, it’s super helpful, it’ll show you your entire chart and even has paragraphs breaking down each planet placement you have, basically breaking down your personality for yourself!”

Jimin matches your position, brushing his shoulder up against yours before leaning his head there.

“Okay, you were born in Busan, right?” You start typing before you even finish asking.

“Right.”

Okay and then what time were you born?”

“I don’t know.”

You playfully smack him on the shoulder with your notebook. “Jimin!”

“Is this something normal people equipped in their wallets or something? Their entire birth charts and hospital records? How about I give you my social security number next?” He quips back, unable to hide his playful smile.

“No,” you laugh, “but you should know what time you were born!” An idea pops into your head; you clutch Jimin’s arm and shake him slightly.

“Call your mother!”

Scoffing, Jimin replies, “right now? Y/n. It’s almost 2am. My mother would have a heart attack if I called her at this hour.”

“But it’s important!” You whine.

“Is it really?” He’s still laughing, and this small voice in your head hopes you’re not annoying him too much.

The wind blows softly around you, shaking the leaves on the tree in the back. Telling yourself that yes it is a bit ridiculous to try to call his mother at this hour, especially because the relationship is still fairly new so you haven’t had much time to truly get acquainted with her.

“Fine. We can learn about your sun and moon signs tonight. But, tomorrow morning, we are finding out what time you were born so we can get your rising sign!” “This is all gibberish to me.” Smiling fondly, you pick up your dark pink glitter pen and uncap it.

“By the end of the night, you’ll be an expert. Now, let me break it down for you.”

𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

© all rights reserved. do not copy, modify, translate, or repost. Jinned 08/10/20

#bts #bangtanarmynet #thekpopnet #btsguild #btswritingcafe #btsghostiewritersnet #cypherwritersnet #bangtanhq #ficswithluv #park jimin #jimin x reader #jimin x female reader #jimin x you #jimin fluff #jimin slice of life #jimin #bts jimin #bts x you #bts reader insert #bts fluff #jimin reader insert #jimin fic #jimin fics #park jimin fics #bts fan fic #bts fics

[chibi-tsukiko]

Countdown to TLBotW

Day 4: Magic 

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

A Magic Four Letter Word

Magnus wakes with a start. He waits for his eyes to adjust to the darkness before sitting up. He takes a few deep breaths to relax himself and moves the strands of hair sticking to his forehead out of his eyes.  He checks his phone, 1:04 am. New Message. He clicks it open.

Alexander 12:30 am: The next time Jace asks me to come with him on a scouting mission, you can answer him. Hopefully, the boys didn’t give you too much trouble with bedtime. 😕I’ll see you in a couple hours. ♥️

Magnus, huffs. Oh, our Bluebell certainly did, he thinks. He had to read Max ten bedtime stories and promise him chocolate chip pancakes in the morning just to get him to into bed. It took nearly four lullabies before Max had finally fallen asleep. Rafe had gone to bed without bargaining. I hope Max’s behavior doesn’t rub off on him, Magnus thinks. He puts his phone back on the nightstand and sighs. 

He gets up from the bed and grabs his silk robe he had laid across the chair in the corner. He snaps his fingers, summoning a cup of tea, and heads out towards the sitting area. He stops short in the hallway when he notices a large shadow on the couch.

“Rafael?”

Rafe peaks his head out from the blanket, the moonlight from the balcony doors catching the ends of his chestnut curls.

“What are you doing out here?” Magnus asks, kneeling down in front of Rafe, who fidgets with the blanket he’s cocooned in. Rafe’s curls cling to his forehead and around his ears, and there’s a ring of sweat around the collar of his shirt. Magnus places the back of his hand against Rafe’s forehead.

“Are you feeling sick?”, he asks.

Rafe shakes his head.

Magnus’ anxiety wains slightly. He pushes some wet strands away from Rafe’s face.

“Bad dream?,” he asks softly.

Rafe grips the blanket, pulling it tighter around his shoulders, “d-demonios”, he whispers, his voice shaking.

Magnus sees the tears swell up in Rafes’ eyes and his heart breaks. His own nightmare forgotten, he places his hand on Rafe’s knee giving a small squeeze, “Would you like to sleep with me tonight?”

Rafe looks up, eyes glistening in the moonlight. Slowly, he nods his head and Magnus smiles.

He stands and holds out his arms, “Come along then” he says.

Rafe immediately unwraps himself from his blanket cocoon and stands on the sofa so he can put his arms around Magnus’s neck. Magnus grabs the blanket with his free hand and carries Rafe back to the bedroom, glad for the company and the distraction.

Once in the bedroom Magnus deposits Rafe onto the bed, “Here we are. You can sleep on Daddy’s side,” Magnus winks and summons a small nightlight in the corner of the room, filling it with a rich orange hue.

He drapes his robe back over the chair, turns to get back in the bed, and stops. Rafe sits near the middle of the bed, his shoulders trembling as his hands fiddle with the blanket he had been wrapped in.

Magnus gets into bed, waiting for Rafe to crawl in closer to him as Max usually does, but Rafe doesn’t move.

Magnus frowns. Rafe has only been with them for a few weeks now, and though he’s adjusting well to everything, Magnus can still see the walls he’s built up.

“You’re just like me,”, he says quietly.

Rafe looks up at him in confusion.

Magnus smiles, “Whenever I have a bad dream, I usually go out to the couch too. I like to be as far away from the bad dream as possible.” Especially when Alec isn’t around to ease his mind.

Rafe stares.

“In fact,”, Magnus continues, covering Rafes’ legs with the blanket, “I had one tonight and headed that way when I saw you.”

Rafes’ eyes go wide, he turns his body towards Magnus, scooting closer, “el demonios?” He asks in a whisper.

Magnus hums, reaching out to tussle Rafes hair, “Yes, dreadful things aren’t they?”

Rafe nods.

“Why did you go out to the couch?” Magnus asks, curious, but also hoping the conversation will help Rafe feel more relaxed.

Rafe looks up at the window behind Magnus, “la luna” he says, pouting when he notices that he can’t see it.

“I see”, Magnus says. “I have an idea,” he sits back against the pillows and runs his hands together, muttering softly to himself. Slowly, a mist forms around his hands. Cloudy ribbons of blues and purples weave in between his fingers and cascade through the crevasses of his knuckles. As he pulls his hands apart the magic concentrates between his palms, creating a vortex of colors, all swirling together.

Rafe stares captivated his eyes twinkling, mouth agape.

“Ready?” Magnus asks.

Rafe nods vigorously.

Magnus tosses his hands up and the vortex explodes, stretching across the ceiling, turning the bland white roof into a galaxy.

Rafe gasps, staring up at the night sky Magnus created, awestruck.

“We’re just missing one thing,” Magnus says, he leans over and reaches behind Rafe’s ear, when he pulls back he holds a light in between his index finger and thumb, he flicks them up towards the ceiling and a moon appears among the stars.

Rafe beams, giggling as he grabs his ear and points up at the moon before looking back at Magnus.

Magnus grins, feeling his heart swell. There was a time in his life when he had feared his magic and the things it was capable of because of who he was.   There’s a part of him that’s still fearful, but in moments like these, where he can use his magic to heal and bring joy. He’s reminded that he is the one who  decides who he is.

Rafe continues to stare at the floating moon above them in awe. Magnus watches contently until out of the corner of his eye he sees the door to the bedroom creak open.

“Bapa?” Max calls, before pushing the door fully open. “Bapa?,” he calls out again, stepping into the room, rubbing his eye, his blue octopus stuffed animal dragging behind him.

“What is it, my little Bluehorn?”

“Daddy home?”

“No, not yet.”

It’s then that Max realizes Rafe is in the bed. He points at him, “sleepover?”

Magnus looks at Rafe, “Sort of”, he says looking back at Max, “Rafe had a bad dream,” Magnus barely finishes before Max springs into action.

He gasps, running forward, climbing up onto the bed. He crawls in between Magnus and Rafe and thrusts his toy into Rafe’s arms.

“Here Occi protect! Bapa put spell make scary dreams go way!”, he beams looking at Magnus.

Magus rubs the top of Max’s head, “That’s very kind of you, Bluebell.”

Max giggles, patting Rafe on the back. Rafe tucks the plushie into his lap and looks back up to the ceiling. Max follows his gaze, his mouth opening wide in amazement.

“WOOOOOW! PWETTY!,” he exclaims.

Rafe points up at the moon and to his ear, speaking rapidly in Spanish.

Max turns to Magnus, who chuckles.

“He’s saying how he had the moon hiding behind his ear,” Magnus translates.

Max turns to Rafe, bouncing up and down, “Oh! Magic! Rafey magic!!” Max claps throwing his arms around Rafe pulling him into a hug.

Rafe grabs onto Max to steady himself, “Rafe”, he corrects Max with a frown, but Magnus can see the sides of his mouth twitch.

Max giggles, grabbing one of Rafe’s hands, “More! More! More!”

Magnus shakes his head, “Not tonight, it’s late, and well past everyone’s bedtime.”

“Awww,” Max pouts, letting go of Rafe’s hand.

Rafe tenses again, pulling the octopus into his chest, “Me puedo quedar?”

Magnus blinks, “of course you can stay, I said so before”, he watches as Rafes shoulders relax.

“Bapa, I stay too? Protect Rafe?” Max asks.

Magnus smiles, and looks to Rafe, “What do you think?”

Rafe thinks for a moment, and reaches out, grabbing Max’s hand, giving it a small squeeze before nodding his head.

Max grins ear to ear, throwing his arms around Rafe again.

“Then it’s settled,” Magnus says, “let’s get you both tucked in and off to sleep. Before you know it Daddy will be home and—“

“PANCAKES!” Max interrupts, moving to lie beside Rafe.

“Yes, yes, and then all the chocolate chip pancakes you can eat my ravenous Blueberry,” Magnus chuckles, leaning over Rafe to tickle Max’s stomach.

He tucks both boys in, and lays back against the pillows, watching as the spell he cast starts to disappear.

Suddenly, he feels a hand on his arm; he looks down, Rafe reaches out tentatively before he pulls his hand back.

Magnus shifts slightly so he can put his arm around Rafe and pulls him in so that his head can rest on Magnus’ chest. Max notices the shift and moves to wrap his arms around Rafes middle and presses himself against Rafes back. They are small enough that Magnus’ arm can wrap around both of them comfortably.

“Night Night Rafey, Night Bapa,” Max yawns.

“Good night Blueberry,” Magnus says, rubbing Max’s shoulder with his hand.

“Rafe,” Rafael corrects again, and Magnus hears Max pat Rafes stomach in response.

Magnus chuckles quietly to himself, closing his eyes, ready for sleep to take him. He blinks himself awake when he feels Rafe grip his shirt and his body tense. Magnus moves his other hand and rubs it up and down Rafe’s shoulder.

“Shhhhh, it’s all right,” he whispers, “you’re safe.”

He lets his magic seep out of his fingers, something he’s done for Alec and Max before to help calm them down.

He feels Rafe relax his grip and snuggle in close.

“There you go,” Magnus says continuing to rub up and down his shoulder, “it’s all right. Shhhhh”

Rafe moves his arm to hug Magnus’ waist, “Gracias... Papa,” he mumbles.

Magnus hand stutters from his ministrations, his magic sparking slightly in shock. He looks back up at the spell above him, the vortex nearly invisible, only the translucent moon remaining. He’s an all power warlock. He can summon demons, create galaxies in a bedroom, and has lived for centuries. Yet to Magnus, a simple four letter word, was more than all the magic in the world. He squeezes his eyes shut, willing the tears back in and presses a kiss to the top of Rafe’s head.

“Buenas noches, mi hijo.”

—————————————————

Tag List : @lbotw-countdown-event @tiberiussblackthrn @littleturtle95 @legendofconsullightwood @hate-me-on-your-own-behalf @foreverfallentoast @tobeornottobetequila @cruel-prince-james @zafirafoxx @an-awkward-nerds-world @magnuslightwood-bane @bookworm-jedi @magnus-the-maqnificent @banesbitch

#lbotwcountdown #lbotwcoutdownevent #my writing #love me some dad magnus fluff #and my sweet baby boys #magnus bane #max lightwood bane #rafael lightwood bane #alec lightwood #malec #EmsFic

[itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto]

Poker and Cigar Night

Authors note: Hello everyone! This is my first time writing Fiction in about ten years, so please be aware, it may not be great! This has been in my drafts for a month or so now, and I finally wrote it as the full thing tonight! Please enjoy!

--- / Italics = Time skip

Notes:

Series 5 slight spoiler and a reference to Brooklyn 99.

Possible triggers: Swearing, smoking (cigarettes), drugs (weed & cocaine) and poker.

Word count: 2K

Another week is almost over at the FBI and the team are all wrapping up the last case, back at Quantico. Y/N sighs, one more statement to type up and she is done. She rubs her temples, and looks at her empty coffee cup, then to her boyfriend Spencer, who is working opposite her and looks just as tired as her. “Would you like another coffee boo?” She asks grabbing her mug and putting her other hand out for Spencer’s.

“Yes please pumpkin.” He replies, kissing her hand meant for the mug which makes her giggle and then he places the mug gently in her hand. Even after dating Spencer for 3 years nearly, Y/N is just both still as in love with Spencer as she was back then. Spencer has always called her ‘Pumpkin’ as she loves Halloween just as much as him, and he will do anything to make her smile, especially as they deal with such awful things at work.

Y/N goes over to the coffee machine, where Penelope and Derek are there kissing. “Come on, not in front of the coffee machine guys.” Y/N groans, pretending the coffee machine has eyes and covers it.

“Not like you and pretty boy haven’t kissed over here whilst waiting for the coffee to brew cupcake.” Morgan chuckles, as Y/N rolls her eyes. She and Derek grew up on the same tough neighbourhood, and are best friends, having always had each-others backs since they were little.

“Do you guys want a cup or are you going to continue snogging?” Y/N asks topping up her mug keeping it black and adding an unhealthy amount of sugar for her sugar loving boyfriend.

“Yes please!” Penelope says, handing you her cactus mug and Derek’s mug which you top up.

“Before I forget to tell you, Rossi is hosting his monthly poker and cigar night tomorrow, are you and pretty boy coming?” Derek asks taking a sip of his coffee.

“Can you bring a dessert if you come? I have a craving for your cheesecake.” Penelope says to you, as she sips her coffee. Everyone loves these nights, it is a chance for you all to un-wind, get drunk and stay in Rossi’s mansion. Last time Emily brought some cocaine and you all got a bit giggly.

“I’m in.” You smile, “I’ll see what Spencer is doing but as far as I’m aware, he has no plans.” You grab yours and Spencer’s mugs again, and Spencer’s desk. “Boo, Rossi is holding another poker night tomorrow, are you in? I’m going, and I’ll be making a cheesecake.” You say, putting Spencer’s mug down at his desk, noticing he changed his background (or asked Penelope to do it) to a photo of you and him on Halloween nearly 3 years ago, the same day he asked you to be his girlfriend. The photo always makes you smile, because you are both such goofs for Halloween.

Spencer adjusts his crutches by his desk, so they don’t fall on you as you sit on the edge of his desk, and sips his coffee. “Sure.” He smiles as you give Derek a thumbs up, “Would you like to stay over tonight pumpkin? I don’t like being alone in my apartment at the moment, especially after being shot.” Spencer says to you, with puppy eyes.

“Of course, boo.” You yawn and take a long sip of your coffee. Spencer kisses your hand again, as you giggle looking down at your converse.

“How many statements do you have left pumpkin?” Spencer asks. “Just one, plus a German statement translation for Rossi.” You smile, you are nowhere near as clever as Spencer, but you do speak 10 languages fluently.

Hotch walks over. “Are you going tomorrow Hotch?” You ask him, getting up from Spencer’s desk, as Hotch nods, “Of course Y/N.” He smiles at you. For some reason, Hotch only seems to smile at you, and it is clear you are his favourite.

“Ah, wonderful! I shall make pasta for all and I hope it’s lemon cheesecake Y/N.” Rossi winks at you.

At Spencer’s apartment the following evening…

“There.” You smile, adjusting Spencer’s tie. “All handsome.” As you go on your tip toes to kiss Spencer on the lips, which Spencer returns.

“You look stunning Y/N, I can’t believe you are all mine.” He smiles even wider. Whilst dating Spencer, you wore make up and he always told you that you looked beautiful without it, and for nearly 3 years now, you haven’t worn it since. “Are you nearly ready pumpkin?” Spencer asks you, as you nod booping his nose, and go back to putting your hoop earrings in.

15 minutes later, you get in the car Rossi sent for you holding Spencer’s hand with one, and the cheesecake with the other. The driver puts your bags with spare clothes and pyjamas for you both in the boot.

---

After half an hour, you arrive at Rossi’s mansion. “I’ll never tire of how big it is.” You say, holding Spencer’s hand. “Title of your sex tape.” Spencer smirks at you, making you blush slightly. “You’re such a fucking dork. I mean the mansion.” You say, giggling at the Brooklyn 99 reference, which is one of your favourite shows to watch together. You walk to the door slowly as Spencer says, “I am your fucking dork.” and uses his cane to ring the bell.

“Ah, there you cuties are!” Penelope says, as she opens the door with JJ.

“She brought pudding!” JJ smiles taking the cheesecake off you to put in the fridge.

“I also brought him. He says he is a pretty boy, so I said he can come.” You smile as Spencer blushes and nuzzles his head into your shoulder as you walk into the mansion.

“What would you like to drink boo?” You ask Spencer, helping him sit down.

“I have beer, wine and fruit cocktails.” Rossi says pouring a glass of wine for himself.

“Whatever you’re having pumpkin.” Spencer says, putting his crutches next to him as you nod, and take a beer for you both, handing one to him.

The night progresses, and Rossi knocks it out the park, as usual with a fantastic pasta dish. “Grazie Rossi.” You say as he hands out your cheesecake, as everyone tucks in immediately.

“This cheesecake is so good Y/N.” Penelope says as she licks her plate.

“Shit me it’s good.” Emily says taking another slice.

“I got to lick the bowl when she made me one yesterday, for recipe testing purposes.” Spencer says, squeezing your hand gently.

“You’re so lucky kid. A fine woman and one that makes desserts.” Derek says

“I know.” Spencer smiles, nodding as he kisses your cheek.

“I’m right here chocolate thunder. I can hear you.” Penelope says glaring at Derek.

“Poker time everyone.” Rossi says as he hands out the cards.

Two games have gone by, and Spencer has won them both. You’re all getting pretty drunk now too, as the alcohol keeps flowing. “Y/N, please don’t let Spencer win the third game.” Aaron says, in a typical Dad tone.

“Sir, I cannot control my pretty boy.” Y/N says as seriously as she can without giggling.

“Except in bed.” A drunk Spencer whispers in your ear, making you blush.

By the third game…

“Oh fuck yes, come to Mama.” You smile, as you finally win a game and take your winnings as everyone groans.

“I think that calls for a cigar.” Rossi says, “Boys, let’s go over to the tree and leave the ladies alone for a bit. Ladies, my staff will bring you over cigars.” He informs.

“Oh good, I can get these out now.” Emily says getting some joints out.

“I’ll take some of those for evidence.” Aaron says taking a couple.

“Evidence? Suuureee.” JJ slurs making you all giggle.

By the tree…

“I can’t believe I have been with Y/N for nearly three years now.” Spencer says as he lights his cigar, passing the lighter to Derek.

“Thanks kid.” Derek says lighting up. “That means I have been with baby girl for nearly 7.” He says trying to work it out in his head.

“Take it from me Derek, always remember.” Aaron says as he takes a puff from his cigar.

Rossi nods in agreement, “You love her don’t you, kid?” He asks Spencer who is staring at you from the tree.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t be walking as well as I am if it wasn’t for Y/N. She’s been to all of my appointments and therapy with me.” Spencer smiles and lets out a puff of smoke from his cigar.

The guys continue chatting meanwhile, at the girls table…

“I always feel like I am back working at a Gentleman’s club when I have a cigar.” Y/N says, remembering back to when she worked at one in her late teenage years.

“I feel fancy as fuck.” Penelope says finishing off her glass of wine and pours everyone another glass.

“You are fancy as fuck.” You, JJ and Emily somehow all manage to say at the same time, before laughing.

---

“They are clearly having too much fun over there. We should go back.” Hotch says, hearing the girls laugh at yet another joke.

“Yeah, the joints are out now.” Derek says

“Last time Y/N was stoned she wrote a poem about why she loved me and told it to me in Russian. I still have it somewhere.” Spencer says, laughing at the memory of the last Poker night you all had. “Isn’t that right pumpkin?” He asks wrapping his arm around your waist, as you giggle.

“Yeah. I don’t know what you said, but yeah. Totally remember.” You say as you pass the joint to him, which he takes a puff of and sits back in his chair and invites you to sit on his lap.

“I don’t want to hurt you boo.” You say to Spencer.

“You won’t pumpkin. I promise.” Spencer says softly, as he tucks your hair behind your ear.

“What a fun night this has been.” Aaron says, as he sips his whiskey.

“Did you use a positive word Hooch?!” Penelope says, sipping a cocktail and putting the umbrella from it in Aaron’s hair.

“Yes, I did.” Aaron says glaring at you, as you take a photo before Aaron notices it’s there.

“I’m so glad this case is over. We all needed this to unwind. Thank you Rossi.” You say to him

“You’re welcome Y/N.” Rossi smiles as he pours himself another whiskey.

You light up a cigarette and snuggle into Spencer’s arms as you are a bit cold. “Aw, you cold pumpkin?” Spencer asks you, wrapping his jacket around your shoulders as you shudder.

“Can I take one pumpkin? I left my cigarettes in my work jacket.” Spencer asks you.

“You don’t need to ask boo.” You insist and hand him one with your lighter.

An hour later, you all call it a night, and take a guest room each.

“That was such a lovely evening.” You say to Spencer as you get out of your dress, and into your pyjamas.

“It was pumpkin.” Spencer says as he takes his mis-matched socks off and gets into bed, opening his arms for you to cuddle into.

You cuddle into Spencer’s arms, “I love you Spence.” You smile looking up at him.

Spencer kisses your nose and smiles, “I love you too Y/N.” He smiles before biting his lip.

“What is it boo?” You ask, noticing him bite his lip, a sign of him being nervous about something that is on his mind.

“I was just thinking... It’s ok if you don’t want to. I’ve really appreciated you staying with me whilst my knee recovers, helping me shower, go to all of my appointments, see my Mum with me or on my behalf, helping me get ready, being a fucking amazing girlfriend...” Spencer began. “Would you like to move in with me?” He asks

“I’d love to boo.” You smile up at him. “Goodnight.” You say kissing his lips.

“Goodnight pumpkin.” Spencer smiles returning the kiss. “How did I get so lucky?” He thought to himself, as you both went to sleep.

Taglist: @pumpkin-goob​ @hopebaker​ @aperrywilliams​

*Part 2 coming soon!*

#spencer reid #spencer x reader #Criminal Minds #spencer reid fluff #Matthew Gray Gubler #my fics