#who are leaving comments on ao3 that predicting WAY too close to what i have planned

[bamsara]

more trod au stuff specifcially: dreams

IDK if i want dream!narinder to be canon in the AU yet but it's certainly a concept to play around with because I think it's funny if Lamb's dreams are just kinda bittersweet while Narinder's is just that one audio going NIGHTMARE NIGHTMARE NIGHTMARE NIGHTM

#trod au #the rehabilitation of death #narilamb #true devotion #cult of the lamb #cotl narinder #cotl lamb #cotl the one who waits #tw blood #just in case cause nari's chest #doodles #i wanna talk about the dream stuff and au stuff but i dont want to spoil what i already have solidified #but there is A FEW OF YOU #who are leaving comments on ao3 that predicting WAY too close to what i have planned #you know who you are KHGLKSHDGSDS

[confusedpandabear]

For the HaruGou drabbles, could I ask for a soul mate au? Anything you like :)

Oh my god, why haven't I done this for them before?! I love a soulmate AU. I hope you like it anon, thanks for the request~

HaruGou: Drabbles By Confused Panda Bear Chapter 37: Red and Blue Read it below or on AO3.

The first time it happens, Haru is six and Gou is five.

She was running a little bit too fast on the slippery tiles of their local swim club than was sensible or even necessary, to greet her older brother at the starting end of the pool.

Predictably, she slips and he’s there just in time to catch her before she falls, head-first into the water. 

He has his hand wrapped around her wrist and her eyes are closed and braced for impact, but when she opens them she sees that his are fixed on the space in between them: at the skin where they had made contact turning red and blue respectively. 

They pull apart from each other with the shock and Gou ends up falling in the pool anyway.

Whatever this means is important enough to have their parents engaging in a serious conversation in the sports centre lobby.

They didn’t know it at that age, but the occurrence completely changes the trajectory of their lives as well as Rin’s, not really understanding why but overhearing nonetheless: 

“Interesting, I’ve never seen it happen so young…”

“…I guess it’s a good thing that they have found each other so early on…”

“…It would probably be best to keep her in Iwatobi then…”

“…Yes, we can’t move now and keep them apart…”

“…I suppose Rin could go to that boarding school in the next town over to swim instead,” they were saying, but Haru doesn’t really care about any of that, even if he had a clue.

All he cares about is Gou who hasn’t stopped crying, her wails eventually subsiding when the blue that he had imprinted on her skin slowly fades and disappears.

____________

Suddenly, they’re not moving to Australia after all, and Gou is tagging along on Haru’s play dates with Rin more often—not that he’s ever minded when she did before.

When they were still young and innocent to it all, they would sit on the side of the pool together in between his practice laps, and Haru would make a game of doodling pictures on the tops of her knees and the length of her arms. 

Gou would touch him playfully too, leaving little handprints on his shoulders and on his back so that she could see the glow of red on him, streaking beneath the water’s surface as he swam.

The marks faded usually within half an hour, maybe longer depending on the pressure or length of the contact. Rin finds it weird but whatever, mum and dad say that it's normal and that maybe he’ll find someone who he can do that with too, someday.

It isn’t long, however, before they both grow up and learn what this all means and that’s when things get awkward.

There are TV shows with romance lines with actors who do what they do, and adults who comment on how cute they are together, and how lucky they were to find each other so young let alone at all. 

They’re twelve and thirteen when they notice that their touches start to leave a tingling heat. 

It felt like being branded as a belonging, though it wasn’t painful but rather—dare they say it—pleasant, even though neither of them were brave enough to say it to the other out loud. 

____________

Maybe it’s because most people find each other when they’re much older, but everyone and Gou the most, can see they don’t act like soulmates at all.

Her mum says to give it time—boys can take a little longer to come around to this sort of thing, she said—but then they’re fifteen and sixteen and rumours are starting to spread around their school that perhaps they are soulmates in the friend’s way, the purely platonic kind of way.

It wasn’t hard to imagine it from Nanase Haruka, who cared for little else besides swimming—his indifference to their circumstances prompting uncomfortable questions about the status of their relationship that Gou didn’t quite know the answer to.

____________

When she turned seventeen, the invitations to the cinema started, to get bubble tea and or even just to simply sit together at lunch; all of which Gou respectfully declined until it was obvious that Haru didn’t care either way.

In reality, Haru just didn’t pay much attention to it, at least at first. 

He’d known since he was six years old that Gou was his—whatever that was supposed to mean—and had never doubted it for a second.

He knew he was being awkward though, he knew he went out of his way to touch her less these days, but it wasn’t for a lack of wanting to but more the implications of the marks he left on her that he was still getting his head around, even now. 

He didn’t like it when people stared, let alone when their stares were directed at her because of him too. 

So they acted like the good friends that they were around each other, and vice-captain and club manager in front of everyone else. 

He thought that would be acceptable until he got his shit together and asked her to be his girlfriend instead, but then rumours started going around about some random guy from the weightlifting club who’d been flirting with Matsuoka Gou and was taking her out on a date with him on Friday night. 

“He’s very bold, going out with someone else’s soulmate,” one of his classmates said. 

“And she said yes?”

“I don’t see why that is a surprise. It’s not like Matsuoka would get any action, otherwise!”

There was a chorus of laughter at his expense, his peers feeling comfortable talking about her in such a manner around him because: so what? Nanase never did anything about it.

Only Makoto could see that he had stopped drawing and that his pencil was threatening to snap in his hand. 

“Aren’t you gonna say something to her, Haru?” he asks, but Haru doesn’t even know where to start. 

____________

He comes home late after practice, staying a little longer than everyone else to blow off some steam, and finds her sitting on his porch waiting and teasing the white neighbourhood cat with a piece of string.

On his approach, the feline stalks towards him and winds itself around his ankles and Gou can’t help but feel a little jealous. 

“Hey, Haruka-senpai…”

“Kou.”

The tense silence that follows has him gripping at the strap of his backpack tightly. 

“How was your…?”

He couldn’t even bring himself to say it.

“It was lovely,” Gou told him and he swears he can hear his heart cracking in two. “He took me to the new pho restaurant that’s opened up in town, and then we went for a walk along the pier.”

He nods to indicate that he is listening but fuck, what part of her thinks that he wants to hear about this?

“You know, he asked me if we could make it official—” his eyes snapped up to look at her, his expression pained and confused, “—but when he held my hand and I looked down and didn’t see blue, it didn’t feel… ” 

She trailed off with a sigh and her smile was amused but a little defeated. 

“…It was the same when he kissed me too. It was nice but—”

“—I don’t really want to know, Kou.”

She paused to tilt her head at him.

“Why?”

Haru sat down next to her, closer than he’d dared to in the past couple of years, but he still can’t bring himself to look at her.

“Because…only I’m supposed to…”

“It’s not about what you’re supposed to do, Haruka-senpai,” Gou said, tenderly. “It’s about what you want to do.”

Her smile for him was so gentle and so patient.

He’d never wanted to kiss her more in his entire life.

____________

When Gou arrived home that evening, her mouth was tinged blue and there was a trail of it down the column of her neck, and she has to physically restrain Rin from storming out of the door and back from where she just came. 

“Fucking—Nanase!”

____________

It was the middle of summer and way too hot to be sitting by the pool with her tracksuit zipped right up to her neck.

But shorts and a t-shirt were out of the question, because then everyone would see the blue burnishing her inner thighs, the handprints on her knees and over the back of her neck.

“Hey Haru-chan, aren’t you getting in?” Nagisa teased him, who was similarly over-dressed (unusual for the boy, especially when near a body of water).

He smirked at Gou, and then down at their hands, laced on top of the tiles together with the colour purple mingling on their fingertips.

“Hmm. Maybe in a bit.”

#ask panda #anonymous cutie #panda fiction #harugou #matsuoka gou #nanase haruka #free! #drabbles #they're meant to be together your honour

[ruewrites]

Sky Full of Stars

AO3

Ship: Solomon/Asmo, Diavolo/Lucifer

Word Count: 2675

Warning: None

A/N: Happy Day 7 of Solodeus Week! I decided to combine both of the prompts Stars and Soulmates for today. I had a lot of fun participating and I hope that you all enjoyed! I loved seeing other people's work as well. I hope that this is something that continued to grow in the future! Comments are appreciated!

The posters had been hanging around RAD for months at this point. Tonight, shooting stars would fill the dark Devildom sky. All the students were buzzing about it and the rumor mill was running over time. Who asked out who? Did she really get rejected? Did he really think he had a chance? Did they make things official? Asmo made it his job to know all of the gossip. He had participated in his fair share when it came to rejections. It wasn’t his fault that he was beautiful and that people threw themselves at him because of it!

However, his rejections were coming a little harsher today than they had in days past. And that was due to the fact that the one person he actually wanted to ask him out hadn’t even made a move yet. He’d been pulling out all the stops too! He was spending extra time on his hair, did his make up extra special, and dropped a significant amount of grim on his nails. Yet Solomon seemed completely dense as to what Asmo was angling for.

Tonight was supposed to be a night of romance, the most romantic event of the century even! And he’d be damned if he was going to be left out of it all. What would people say if he, the Avatar of Lust himself, didn’t have a date to the star shower? It would be absolutely humiliating! But he didn’t want just anyone, he wanted Solomon.

Now here he was.

On the last day of classes before the big event.

And Solomon still hadn’t asked him.

Solomon had been locked away in the library, barely even responding to Asmo’s texts if at all. He hadn’t even bothered to have a decent conversation with him! But that wouldn’t stop him. It couldn’t stop him. He was going to spend the most romantic night of his life, with Solomon, alone at the star shower.

At least, that was the plan, until Lucifer gathered them all into the living room.

“What?” Asmo heard his own voice ring in chorus with his brothers.

Lucifer let out a sigh, “Lord Diavolo wants us all to meet so we can enjoy the stars together and before any of you can ask, no, you can’t get out of it. This is a mandatory event that we all will be attending together.”

Normally, Asmo would love attending one of Lord Diavolo’s little parties, but this wasn’t one of those normal times. So much for him having a romantic night alone with Solomon under the stars. Now he would be spending this wonderful night alone with his brothers.

To make matters worse, he had no doubt that Diavolo would be showering Lucifer with affection all night. Even if Lucifer was flustered and trying to change the subject, it would still be completely unfair. Asmo should be getting attention like that from Solomon. Instead he’d be watching Diavolo fawn over Lucifer all night and contemplating how he was going to explain that he hadn’t had a date.

He was a little more than crestfallen walking into the palace. He was more than prepared to wallow in his own pity the whole night until a familiar voice caressed his ear.

“-I mean, are you sure Barbatos?”

“Most certainly. I’d bet almost anything on it.”

Asmo’s head shot up. Solomon was deep in a conversation with Barbatos, the two didn’t seem to notice that the brothers had walked in yet. He would have gone over to him, but Asmo was completely caught off guard. By the time his mind had processed the situation before him, more figures were already greeting them.

“Oh, Simeon,” Lucifer said, “I didn’t realize you all would be here too.”

“Lord Diavolo thought it would be a wonderful idea if we all got together to enjoy the stars together. Luke was really excited to see them, and I thought it sounded like a marvelous idea.”

By the time Asmo looked back, both Solomon and Barbatos were gone.

***

So far, the night was going exactly how Asmo predicted it would. Lord Diavolo had whisked Lucifer away, not allowing him escape from whatever ministrations he had planned. Solomon should be paying attention to him like that now. He should be lavishing him in endless praise and adoration. Instead he was off who knows where with another one of their pact mates most likely. He slumped down into his seat, picking at whatever food was currently sitting in front of him. He wasn’t interested in eating. He wasn’t interested in doing too much of anything really.

“Asmodeus?” he hadn’t even realized Simeon sliding into the chair next to him, “Are you quite alright?”

Asmo looked at him for a moment before returning his attention to… whatever it was on his plate. “Oh just peachy. I love my partner ignoring me. All week. Not inviting me out to gaze at the beautiful stars falling from the sky. Like every other couple at RAD. It’s a wonderful feeling.”

Was he being passive aggressive?

Yes.

Simeon cleared his throat and shifted in the seat next to him ever so slightly. He seemed a little taken aback by Asmo’s response. “Well, that uh… Certainly sounds like… Something,” how ironic it was that a writer was struggling to find his words, “In any case, would you like to accompany me?”

Asmodeus stopped playing with the food on his plate and slowly turned to Simeon with a raised eyebrow. “Accompany you?” he repeated, “Where?”

“Oh, you know… Around.”

This had to be one of the most painfully awkward conversations that he had ever had in his entire life if not the most painful. Simeon was still fidgeting in his seat and adjusting the high collar on his neck. He looked over to Lucifer’s blushing face as Diavolo rattled off yet another list of praises to him. Asmo couldn’t hear what he was saying, but he didn’t need to. His feelings would still be the same.

It was Solomon’s own fault that he wasn’t spending time with him.

“Alright then,” Asmo stood from his seat with a little more force than what was necessary, “Let’s go somewhere.”

***

Simeon led Asmo away from the crowd and down the long halls of the palace. Eventually they were in the palace gardens. And then they went deeper, and deeper, and deeper. If the castle hadn’t been so tall, Asmo surely would have lost sight of it. They walked for a little while longer in silence until they came to a wrought iron gate. To Asmo’s surprise, Barbatos was standing next to that gate.

“Good evening Asmodeus. Enjoying yourself so far?” he asked.

“Well, I- … No.”

“I see. Well I hope your night gets better,” he moved so that he was in front of the gate, and in one swift motion and a click of the lock it was open, “At this point we both will be leaving. Do enjoy yourself.”

Asmodeus was confused. Actually, confused may have been a severe understatement. But he still walked through, even as the door clicked shut behind him.

Beautiful flowers dotted the bushes on either side of him. The hedge walls twisted and turned leading him down the path under the light of the moon. Slowly, the trail widened leading him up a hill, and the scene certainly took him by surprise.

Solomon was there, a telescope behind him as he fidgeted with what Asmo assumed were last minute details. There was a blanket, a basket, and flowers in a vase in the center. At the sound of his footsteps, Solomon lifted his head and a smile spread across his face. Quickly he stood and made his way down to meet Asmo halfway. His arms were out wide for him but instead of running and embracing him, Asmo stopped right in front of him with his hands on his hips.

“Excuse me. Exactly what were you thinking?” Asmo asked.

Solomon stopped and blinked once, twice. “I- What?”

“You heard me,” Asmo huffed and leaned back, “You. Didn’t. Ask. Me. To. Come. Out. With. You. Tonight. I’d been waiting for you too since the posters came out Solomon! And you just never did! Do you have any idea how many people kept trying to get me to go with them? How many people I turned down? I just-” He let out a groan of frustration, throwing his hands onto his face. A small part of him was relieved, but he was also incredibly frustrated.

“Well, I mean, Diavolo was planning on asking all of us to come so,” Solomon gestured to the scene behind him, “I figured we’d both be here anyways.”

“I didn’t know that!” Asmo exclaimed, “Lucifer didn’t tell us! We were going until Friday! And he didn’t seem to know that all of you were even going to be here! I just-! Do you have any idea how much stress you caused me? If I get wrinkles I will hunt you down.”

Solomon laughed and put a hand on the small of Asmo’s back, leading him up to the blanket. “I apologize Asmodeus, I didn’t realize,” he stopped and took ahold of Asmo’s hands, kneeling on the ground and tugging him to follow, “I got so caught up in preparing all of this that the idea you might want me to ask slipped my mind. I figured it was a given we’d spend the night together.”

Oh. Oh Solomon was smooth with his tongue. Of course he was, he could be when he wanted to be. He could either be smooth and sexy or a complete fool who loved to make Asmo laugh. And what could he say? Whatever he was doing was absolutely working. He followed him down onto the blanket and folded his knees behind him.

“Look up,” Solomon said, pulling Asmo close and looking up at the sky, “You can see a couple, they just started not too long ago. You can see them from here, the telescope is just in case we want to get a closer look.”

Asmo nodded and snuggled closer to Solomon. He was quiet for a moment before speaking, “Did you really spend all your time planning this?”

“Well most of the time,” Solomon asked, “I did have to sleep at some point you know.”

Asmo snorted and elbowed his side. Solomon’s response was to bury his nose into Asmo’s hair.

The stars started to pick up in the sky. They started coming in twos, then threes, until the entire sky was lit up with their beauty. Neither one of them spoke, instead they stared up at the beauty above them and relished in each other's company.

“You know, I never really believed in the concept of soulmates,” Solomon said, his hand running up and down Asmo’s arm, “The idea never really seemed plausible to me. I mean one person being out there for everyone? Everyone in all three realms? It seemed far-fetched really. But then-”

“But then?”

“I met you,” Solomon’s voice was soft, adoring. It made Asmo feel warm, “And my perspective changed. I thought, perhaps it could be possible. I used to think of humans alone when I thought of soulmates. One human for one human. But perhaps, soulmates could be a human and a demon.”

Solomon kissed the top of his head and relaxed once again into his embrace. Asmo mulled over his words.

Soulmates.

Did he believe in soulmates?

The idea was incredibly romantic, but what truly was a soulmate?

Asmo turned his attention away from the sky to stare at Solomon. He took in his features, his eyes, his cheek bones, his strong jawline, his nose. All of them were seared into Asmo’s mind, and when he thought about them, his heart fluttered. He knew the unconditional love that came with Solomon, and every little thing about him always brought him back to that fact. Every little moment they shared, every kiss, every breath was intertwined with a silent ‘I love you’, a silent promise.

What they had together was an unspoken promise, something that just was and always would be.

Under the starlight, Asmo moved to look up at Solomon. No words were spoken between them. They moved closer together.

Under the starlight they were one.

One body.

One mind.

One single soul adrift out at sea.

Every touch lit Asmo ablaze, every little movement struck him deep within his core, every kiss on his skin was a mark on a well memorized road map.

It wasn’t till long after the display had finished, that the two of them were making their way back to the castle still all too tangled up in eachother, but also trying to fix their clothes. Asmo knew that Lucifer knew as soon as he stepped inside. His brother took one look at both him and Solomon, taking note of their clothing and narrowed his eyes.

Oh Asmo could already hear the lecture that he'd brought upon himself, and he could only imagine what choice words Lucifer had in store for Solomon. Lucifer didn’t like the relationship, but he also didn’t know Solomon like Asmo did. He offered Lucifer a little wave before taking Solomon’s arm and walking off to a table together.

“Before I forget, I have one more thing for you,” Solomon said, pushing Asmo’s chair in, “I just-”

Asmo felt Solomon slip something into both of his ears, and when he sat down, he held up his D.D.D. so that Asmo could see. Two of the most gorgeous earrings Asmo had ever seen now rested gently in his ears. They sparkled and glittered down from the studs in his ears. And the studs… They had a moving image in them, a scene that looked oh so familiar.

“I had the telescope set up for another reason aside from getting a closer look at the stars.” Solomon started, “I wanted you to have that scene with you forever. I’d been working on a spell to capture it the moment I learned this was going to happen.”

“I love it,” Asmo breathed, gently touching the earrings as he admired them in Solomon’s camera. Solomon grabbed his hand once again and squeezed.

Soulmates.

Maybe Asmo did believe in the word after all.

He didn’t care who was around them or who saw. Asmo leaned in and kissed Solomon’s lips. He could already see his cheeks and the tips of his ears turning red, Solomon didn’t pull away. Instead he ran his hands up and down Asmo’s arms, indulging his partner in the kiss.

Asmo had never been happier than when he’d been with Solomon.

Soulmates.

Solomon always made his days.

Soulmates.

He filled his skies full of stars.

Soulmates.

It was hard not to see stars when he was with him.

Soulmates.

The word continued to ring out in Asmo’s mind. Perhaps Solomon had been made for him. Perhaps this had been planned from the beginning. But he didn’t care, because either way, Solomon was his, and he was Solomon’s

When they pulled away from the kiss, Asmo swore he saw thousands of shooting stars in Solomon’s eyes. Thousands of his wishes were constantly being fulfilled by the man before him. He leaned into Solomon’s arms from his chair, resting his head on his chest and letting the gentle thump of his heartbeat lull him into a sense of security. Solomon’s hands roamed over his body, visiting places he had long visited before.

Soulmates.

This human was his, and he would always be his.

If anyone from the newspaper club was here, they could take all the pictures that their little hearts could desire. Everyone he turned down should know the wonderful man that deserved him. They could all say what they wanted, but it didn’t matter, because Solomon held his heart and he held Solomon’s.

Solomon lit up his sky with stars, and in the end, that was all that mattered.

#SolodeusWeek2021 #ruewrites #solodeus #soloasmo #asmosolo #asmodeus x solomon #obey me #obey me solomon #obey me asmodeus #obey me simeon #obey me barbatos #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #dialuci #diavolo x lucifer

[ibijau]

Forbidden Romance pt4 / On AO3

Lan Wangji was predictably furious when his brother confessed to him that he had everything that had happened in recent months. That anger was for the most directed toward Lan elders, but Lan Xichen felt his brother had to also be disappointed in him for making so many compromises. Had their places been reversed, Lan Wangji’s closed expression seemed to say, he would have stood for justice at any cost. Had it been anyone else, Lan Xichen would have dismissed this as an empty boast, the sort every cultivator would do when they weren’t in such a position. But this was Lan Wangji, and he bore on his back the proof of his dedication to his convictions even if it meant going against their elders, something Lan Xichen hadn’t had the strength to do.

Or perhaps it was just Lan Xichen’s guilt speaking. His brother only said a few words, having grown more silent than ever during his forced seclusion, but not a single one of those words aimed to condemn his brother. Instead he asked for details about the plot that had nearly killed Nie Mingjue, and asked why his brother had chosen to reveal all of this after keeping the secret for so long.

“Hm. Nie Huaisang,” was Lan Wangji’s only comment when Lan Xichen shared the plan hatched to protect his brother and his nephew.

His tone was neither warm nor cold, but it was knowing. It was not something the two of them had ever discussed, that shared preference for men. They had also never really talked about the targets of that preference, neither really understanding why the other would want such a partner, but trying to be supportive in spite of it.

“Are you sure?” Lan Wangji asked about the plan. That he needed to ask at all said a lot about the amount of trust he placed in Nie Huaisang’s word, Lan Xichen thought.

He couldn’t even blame his brother. Lan Xichen knew Nie Huaisang’s reputation as lazy and indolent, and wouldn’t argue that it wasn't at least somewhat justified. But weak cultivation and lack of taste for martial arts didn’t mean Nie Huaisang couldn’t be depended on when necessary.

“I’m sure,” Lan Xichen said.

It was enough for his brother, who expressed no further doubts.

Having agreed on a plan to follow, preparations were quickly made to allow Lan Wangji a chance to leave the Cloud Recesses undetected, and to ensure his departure wouldn’t be noticed too quickly. Lan Xichen gave his brother a hefty sum of money to cover any expenditures he might encounter on the way to Qinghe, as much food as he had been able to take without attracting attention, and his personal jade token so Lan Wangji could leave without going through the main gate. 

Regarding Lan Yuan too, arrangements had been made. Lan Xichen had taken the child from his class that very afternoon, declaring that he intended on spending the next few days personally teaching him. Since the little boy was largely suspected of being Lan Wangji’s bastard son, it did not surprise anyone that Lan Xichen would wish to supervise his education. 

He had worried that his uncle would notice Lan Yuan’s absence since they lived together, but Lan Qiren had been so busy these recently that Lan Xichen hardly ever saw him. And even if he noticed the child was missing, Lan Qiren would surely understand and hold his tongue. It was then only a matter of bringing the little boy to his father in the middle of the night, and wishing them both a safe journey. Lan Wangji had recuperated a great deal from his wounds, and though he wasn’t yet in perfect health, he was strong enough to arrive to Qinghe in a few days, even if he had to carry a child while flying.

For three days, Lan Xichen hid his brother’s escape. It took a little work to make sure meals appeared to have been consumed, but at least doctors no longer needed to attend Lan Wangji as frequently as they once did, and nobody else ever came to visit him.

On the morning of the fourth day, Lan Xichen dressed carefully to make himself look older and more respectable, and put on a guan that had once belonged to his grandfather. He opened the Hanshi’s determined to demand that the council meet him, so he could finally reveal everything he had learned about the plot against Nie Mingjue and force them to accept that their sect would be morally in the wrong if they persisted in refusing to choose a side. He would not back down, not this time. His brother, his best friend, and his true love were counting on him. Lan Xichen could not disappoint them, not again. He would…

“The elders are requesting your presence for a council,” a disciple informed him as soon as he stepped outside. “Some urgent news has arrived regarding recent events.”

A slight change of plan. Lan Xichen was equal parts aggravated and relieved. He would have liked to be the one making demands for once, but there was no certainty that the council of elders would have gathered merely because he asked for it.

Lan Xichen promptly made his way to meet the elders, and apologised for his tardiness when he entered the room where they had gathered. After exchanging a glance with his uncle, who appeared just as ignorant of this new matter, Lan Xichen went to sit at his place, on a dai that raised him above the elders. And yet, it was toward Lan Xiaofan  that every eyes turned, knowing as they all did that his opinion held more weight than that of the boy they used as a figurehead.

“Two pieces of news have reached us early this morning,” Lan Xiaofan somberly announced. “The first is that Lanling Jin has also started speaking of going to war. They say Qinghe Nie has kidnapped their sect leader’s grandson and heir, Jin Ling.”

“A serious accusation,” Lan Xichen retorted, certain Nie Huaisang would have known about that if it were true, and that he would have warned him. “What proof is there?”

Lan Xiaofan hesitated, surprised by his sect leader’s defiant tone, or perhaps by the very fact that Lan Xichen would dare to speak without invitation.

“The proof is that the child is missing, and the Nie are their only enemies.”

“So we are to take the absence of proof as a proof?”

The old men glared at Lan Xichen, who innocently smiled at them in return. He’d never understood how some people could just say rude things, be wilfully insolent, or do whatever they pleased without consideration for the will of others, but he was starting to understand the thrill of it. There was something absolutely delicious in daring to say the things that were on his mind, instead of just reciting what he knew people wanted to hear.

It was addictive, and he suddenly felt new sympathy for Wei Wuxian.

“Nie Mingjue has gone mad, and is capable of nearly anything at this point,” someone said. “Even harming a child, if that’s what it takes to destroy the one sect that stands between him and power.”

“Da-ge isn’t doing this for power,” Lan Xichen protested.

“After he’s kidnapped that child, can you really believe his story about a murder attempt?”

“I do, and I know there was a witness to that attempt,” Lan Xichen proclaimed. “I have talked with him, he was there when it started, and helped me understand how the attempt was made.”

That, at last, silenced the elders. It gave Lan Xichen some hope. They weren’t enemies, he reminded himself, and they were not cruel by nature either. They were just trying to make the best possible decision for their sect, just like him, and when they were told with no uncertainty how the whole thing had unfolded, they would finally side with Nie Mingjue.

“Who is that witness?” Lan Qiren asked.

“Nie Mingjue’s own brother. He's heard me play Cleansing and was surprised to find it different from what Jin Guangyao had been playing for Da-ge. We talked about it, he shared the melody he remembers with me, and if you let me share it with you, you will surely agree that…”

“Well, that was the second news we wanted to discuss today,” Lan Xiaofan said. “Nie Mingjue has apparently found his brother conspiring against his life and imprisoned him.”

Lan Xichen’s blood turned to ice.

“That’s impossible,” he whispered, the words difficult to even get out. “Huaisang was just… and Da-ge trusts him. He knows Huaisang would never hurt him!”

“Nie Mingjue is unstable, and his brother was a little too fond of that Guangyao before this incident. Not to mention it could be that if there was an assassination attempt, might it not make more sense indeed if it came from within? They’re only half brothers, let’s not forget that. Nie Huaisang could easily have gotten involved into a coup against his brother, only to try and blame it on the Jins. But in the end, if they are torn apart it is no concern of ours.”

It was certainly Lan Xichen’s concern. He knew with the greatest certainty that Nie Huaisang would never do anything that might harm his brother, and it was something Nie Mingjue himself had professed more than once. Whenever he’d complained about his brother’s perceived failings as a cultivator and clan heir, he would always balance it out by saying that at least Nie Huaisang was loyal, and they that they lived in a world where that quality was to be cherished.

Nie Huaisang couldn’t have betrayed his brother.

As to whether Nie Mingjue might believe that he had… Before this whole debacle started, Lan Xichen would have found that equally impossible to imagine. But he’d seen the flashes of terror in Nie Huaisang whenever he’d spoken of his brother during their secret meetings, his ever growing desperation to quickly heal Nie Mingjue. And then there had been the way Nie Huaisang had clung to him when Lan Xichen had said they both needed to head home, as if something about returning to the Unclean Realm terrified him.

“Surely this whole situation has become complex enough that it needs to be investigated,” Lan Xichen insisted. “We keep hearing different versions of events from different parties. Since we have announced ourselves to be neutral, then naturally we ought to…”

“Neutrality might no longer be the better course of action,” Lan Xiaofan said. “Not when a child’s life is at stake, and Nie Mingjue is as unpredictable as a wounded beast. The Jins have been patient with us thus far, but they will not be forgiving if anything happens to their sect leader's grandson."

"But we don't even know…" 

"Lan zongzhu has made his opinion clear,” Lan Xiaofan cut him with a glare. “He may now stay silent as his elders discuss the situation with judgement unclouded by old preferences." 

If it had only been him and those elders, Lan Xichen would not have let himself be silenced in that manner. Not again, not anymore. Not when his brother was out of their reach at last, while Nie Huaisang and Nie Mingjue’s lives appeared in greater danger than ever before. But Lan Qiren, who was seated nearest to him, grabbed his wrist and looked at him in a manner that said the time for a fight hadn't come yet. 

It struck Lan Xichen as odd. His uncle had, up to that point, made it clear to him that he would support his nephew, should he try to go against the council's wishes. He had promised he would find ways to keep Lan Wangji out of harm's way, at the cost of his own safety if need be. Lan Qiren had also been quite clear that out of the two sect leaders in conflict, he had always found Nie Mingjue to be the more honest one and could not imagine why that would have changed. 

If his uncle suddenly no longer wished for direct opposition, he had to have his reasons. So Lan Xichen, with great effort, kept silent as old men discussed matters for which they refused to hear all the facts. It did not come as a surprise when, after wasting nearly all morning in useless arguments, they decided to remain neutral. 

Unsurprising, but somehow disappointing. Had they sided with the Jins, Lan Xichen could have pretended a fit of anger and left to finally act as his conscience dictated. Instead, he would have to come up with a new plan to help his friend and his beloved. 

As the council disbanded for the day, Lan Xichen started walking toward the Hanshi, wishing for a chance to be alone and think his next move. Before he had taken two steps, Lan Qiren grabbed him by the elbow and started pulling him in another direction, away from most buildings. 

"Let's go for a walk," Lan Qiren ordered as they passed by the elders. "I have a few things to say about your behaviour earlier."

Tempting as it was to refuse, Lan Xichen obediently followed, and tried to appear contrite at the perspective of a scolding. They walked together in silence, leaving behind the heart of the Cloud Recesses. The path had a certain familiarity to it, but Lan Xichen was so preoccupied that did not realise where they were headed until a small house came into view, isolated and surrounded by gentians.

Lan Xichen slowed, staring at his mother’s prison.

A terrifying thought immediately crossed his mind, about Wangji being caught, or getting wounded and being forced to secretly return to the Cloud Recesses, relying on their uncle to hide him. That house had sat untouched for years, young disciples avoided it if possible, elders behaved as if it didn't exist. Lan Wangji had been the only one to regularly come there to ensure it didn't fall in disrepair before his punishment, sometimes dragging Lan Xichen with him. Lan Qiren, certainly, had no love for that house, and wouldn't have come there unless forced. 

"Do we have a guest, uncle?" Lan Xichen asked in an unsteady voice. 

"Something of the sort. A visitor the elders need not know of."

Now in a near panic, Lan Xichen quickly made his way to the house, and opened the door without knocking. The house being small, there was only the one room, and nowhere to hide, so Lan Xichen could not have missed the sight of a young man seated on the bed. A young man who wasn’t Lan Wangji. In fact, it might have been generous to even call him a man when he could hardly be more than fourteen or fifteen, or more likely younger and just tall for his age.

The teenager looked away from the book he was reading, and his face was one that Lan Xichen had seen before, though not one he would have paid much attention to. If not for the bright yellow robes he wore, embroidered with a peony, Lan Xichen might not have guessed so quickly who he was.

“Xuanyu?” Lan Xichen gasped, before his eyes fell on the toddler currently napping on the teenager’s lap. “And is that Jin Ling?”

Mo Xuanyu grimaced and glanced at Lan Qiren who made a gesture his nephew didn’t quite see, all his attention being turned on Jin Ling.

“Well, you got one out of two right,” Mo Xuanyu announced with a smile that seemed familiar, though it did not belong on that face. “Not that I’d expect anyone to guess. Even Lan-xiansheng took some convincing, but I was able to share some details that only I would have known, so he…”

“Oh no,” Lan Xichen said, seized by a horrible doubt. It made no sense, except in the way that everything was such a mess lately, and kept getting worse and worse. “Oh no,” he repeated, pressing a hand to his mouth. “Wei Wuxian?”

Mo Xuanyu’s sheepish smile was an answer, but not the one Lan Xichen would have preferred to get.

#xisang #lan xichen #lan qiren #and others #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #forbidden romance au #I have an ending planned for this but I need to think up what comes in the middle lol #jau writes

[robininthelabyrinth]

Tedious Joys - Chapter 4 -

- Ao3 link -

It had been an inauspicious year to begin with.

A poor harvest led to famine among the common people, which in turn created conditions ripe for evil creatures of all sorts; the night-hunts that were often treated as playful competition by the cultivation world became more like the boring drudgery of everyday work, disciples setting off in packs on a regular basis all over, time and time again. The tension wore on the sects, some more than others, and dozens of small disputes began to rise up, needing to be dealt with. Lan Qiren’s schedule became busy, and then busier, and then became overwhelming; he was forced to discard one pastime after another in his efforts to hold back the rising tide, and in the end sacrificed sleep and sometimes meals to preserve only two: playing for Jiwei and spending time with his nephews.

It meant that he was unprepared, both mentally and physically, for word of the death of Cangse Sanren and her husband, which took over two years to finally come to ears of the Great Sects – such a shocking failure of information that Lan Qiren briefly wondered if it had been concealed intentionally.

The sudden shock of grief hit him hard.

He tried to convince himself that he had expected it, that she had expected it, that at least her son was now safe in the Lotus Pier, and yet all he could think about was that he had one less friend in the world. The sadness interfered with his focus, creeping in at all hours, uncontrollable, until one evening he was playing guqin with his nephews and looked up to find them both weeping uncontrollably from the music he was playing. When he tried to stop mid-song, he abruptly collapsed, and upon waking was informed that he had become feverish at some point in the night.

His sect doctors advised him to go into seclusion until he could control himself.

Lan Qiren refused.

They advised him again, this time with greater insistence, and with the support of his sect elders.

“Tell them to fuck off,” Lao Nie suggested, pouring a calming tea that he’d brought from Qinghe.

He’d come to visit with his sons, Nie Mingjue disappearing with Lan Xichen as always and Nie Huaisang engaged in the newest stage in his eternal battle of wills with Lan Wangji over a game of weiqi that they were both taking far, far too seriously.

(Despite knowing Lan Wangji and indeed Nie Huaisang better than most people alive, Lan Qiren honestly could not determine whether the two of them despised each other or were close friends. Lao Nie claimed the answer was both, simultaneously, but Lan Qiren didn’t understand that at all.)

“That is not how we do things here,” Lan Qiren said, accepting a cup. It was rude for him to allow a fellow sect leader who was his guest to serve him, rather than the other way around, but he had a headache from the persistent fever and exhaustion that was even more persistent, the boundless river of grief in his heart translating into physical agony, and anyway Lao Nie hadn’t exactly asked permission before proceeding. “It would be more appropriate for me to present a well-reasoned case for it not being necessary, based on rules, authority, and precedent.”

“Except you can’t put one together because you’re upset and tired,” Lao Nie said with a snort. “That’s stupid. You’re overworked, stretched too thin, you just found out that your friend is dead – you need sleep, not seclusion. Anyway, what happens if you do go into seclusion? Aren’t they always saying they need you to stick around to be Sect Leader so desperately?”

Lan Qiren rubbed his eyes. “It would not be true seclusion. I would be expected to continue certain parts of the work.”

“You’re joking.”

“It would be primarily administrative correspondence –”

“By that token, your brother ought to do it!”

Lan Qiren glared. “It’s not the same and you know it. And they are not wrong that I need rest.”

“From what I recall of what you’ve told me about your sect’s practice of seclusion, that’s not rest,” Lao Nie said acidly. “Surely there’s something I can do to help. I could send over some of my disciples…”

“Excellent idea,” Lan Qiren said, rolling his eyes. “We can replace all those rumors that I’ve been secretly pining for years over my best female friend with ones regarding my best male friend.”

“It is a little ‘hero rushes to save the lady’, isn’t it?” Lao Nie said thoughtfully, shaking his head in amusement. “But seriously, I came here for a reason, and it’s not Jiwei or A-Jue or anything like that. You’re always trying to help me, Qiren. For once, let me help you.”

Lan Qiren would normally protest this – because Lao Nie had so done many things for him over the years that it was an incorrect statement, because he hated the helpless feeling of letting someone do things for him, because that wasn’t something sect leaders did for each other – but he was tired and he feared seclusion and sometimes he thought it might be nice to do one thing that could be considered a little reckless before he died.

“Very well,” he said, closing his eyes and drinking the tea. “Do as you like.”

That was a dangerous thing to say to someone like Lao Nie, who promptly pulled three dozen Nie sect disciples from out of nowhere and sent them scurrying around hunting down evil with the energetic enthusiasm of youth entrusted with gigantic sabers and the freedom to use them as they would, while he himself settled in very happily in Lan Qiren’s home, sleeping on a guest bed, keeping away unwanted visitors and helping with any paperwork that didn’t explicitly require a Lan. He also recruited Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen to assist, despite Lan Qiren’s protests that bureaucratic busywork was not an appropriate way for boys of approximately fifteen and definitely twelve, respectively, to spend their time; both of them very solemnly assured Lan Qiren that they were more than happy to do whatever they could.

Even little Lan Wangji and Nie Huaisang bullied their way into being involved, insisting that they wanted to do it more than they wanted to train or play, although at their ages there really wasn’t much they could do besides grind ink and run messages to the relevant recipients.

As Lan Qiren might have expected, rumors immediately started about some sort of torrid affair – life would be so much easier if everyone obeyed the rules against gossiping purposelessly – and they even got to the point that several of the sect elders cautiously hinted to him that although cutsleeve relationships were far from being in vogue, they had at no point been explicitly forbidden by the rules, and cited several provisions which seemed to favor such things.

Lan Qiren had thanked them for the reminder and caustically commented that he would be sure to incorporate that into his next set of lectures as he could see no other reason for them to mention it, and soon enough they backed off, shaking their heads. Still, those busybodies that had his best interests in mind were still preferable to the ones that started once more raising the idea of finding him a nice bride of suitable age – by suitable age, they meant too old for children, lest he get any idea of challenging his brother’s line of descent – before he did anything foolish like fall in love, or, worse, to act on it.

Obviously he had no intentions of permitting that.

Still, after a month of enforced rest, Lan Qiren was feeling a bit more himself. He took on more and more of the work, albeit supervised by five sets of judging eyes, and even began to play once more, this time without bringing anyone to tears. Jiwei and Xinfei rested together by the door in comfortable equilibrium, hot and cold, weak and powerful, and the jade pendant that Lan Qiren carried with him remained cool to the touch, not hot at all.

“You will need to go soon,” he told Lao Nie, who shrugged, not denying it – a month was a long time for a sect leader to be away from home absent some valid excuse like a war, not quite too long but starting to push it. No matter how effective one’s deputies were nor how much work one did from a distance, a sect leader was still necessary, in the end, or else Lan Qiren’s life would have been very different.

“Next week,” he said. “That’ll give me just enough time to take the boys home before heading back out again for the conference in Qishan.”

“There’s a conference? I wasn’t informed.”

“No, you weren’t, because I didn’t inform you,” Lao Nie said, utterly shameless. “You’re going to stay here and rest. It’s just a stupid party.”

“That doesn’t matter if it is also a stupid party which everyone else is attending,” Lan Qiren said sternly.

“Jiang Fengmian isn’t going, either,” Lao Nie said. “Doesn’t want to leave his new ward alone just yet…newest rumor has it that Wei Wuxian’s his bastard with Cangse Sanren.”

Lan Qiren shut his eyes. “Of course. Wasn’t I the one having the affair with her last week?”

“Perhaps it was a love triangle?”

“A square, at minimum. Don’t forget she had a husband.”

“A pyramid!”

“Lao Nie…”

Lao Nie laughed. “Jin Guangshan isn’t making it, either. His wife’s giving birth – predictions say to a daughter, I think, assuming this one survives the birth – and all accounts say that she’s threatened to cut his balls off if he even thinks of leaving Lanling City. So, you see, it really is just a stupid party, and by missing it you’ll be doing just the same thing as all the other Great Sects.”

Lan Qiren felt a sudden stab of misgiving. “Except you.”

“Except me,” Lao Nie said cheerfully. “Me and Hanhan.”

Lan Qiren truly did not want to know what went on in Lao Nie’s mind sometimes.

“Why don’t you refrain from going as well?” he asked, aware he sounded tetchy and irritable like some jealous wife in an opera. “If no one else is going.”

“Oh, I have to go. A-Han asked for me specifically,” Lao Nie said, and Lan Qiren thought to himself oh I’m certain he did, then promptly felt bad about doing so. Sneering for no reason was prohibited. “Someone’s gifted him with some magnificent saber for his collection, apparently, and he was boasting that it was the best there was right up until someone stuck their nose in it and said that it was all well and good but no comparison to my Jiwei.”

Lan Qiren could imagine exactly how well a statement like that had gone over with Wen Ruohan.

“And now he’s demanding you show up and produce evidence?” he asked, unimpressed.

Lao Nie grinned. “Ah, Qiren, it’s almost like you’ve met the man before.”

“You shouldn’t encourage him,” Lan Qiren said. “Why should you go just because he asked? He’s your equal, not your master.”

“There’s no harm in giving him some face.”

Lan Qiren could think of several ways that it could lead to harm, the inflation of Wen Ruohan’s already bloated ego being not the least of them, but Lao Nie was his equal as well, his equal and his elder. If the man had made up his mind, as it clearly appeared that he had, there was nothing Lan Qiren could say that would change it.

“Good luck, then,” he said, shaking his head, and called the boys to come in for dinner. As usual, the Lan half of the table remained mute while the Nie half did nothing but chatter, each according to their own family custom. It was a test of wills and endurance – Lan Wangji’s eye kept twitching every time Nie Huaisang filled in words for him, possibly due to the extremely high pitch Nie Huaisang chose to represent him – but it was a joy to share the time with them nonetheless.

Before Lao Nie left, Lan Qiren tried, not for the first time, to press the jade pendant that resonated with Jiwei into his hand. “You should take it with you,” he insisted. “Especially if you’re going to the Nightless City to exhibit your saber – there’s a great deal of resentful energy there, and you know that always gets Jiwei’s bloodlust up.”

“Which in turn will sharpen my reflexes, just when I need them most,” Lao Nie said, pressing the jade pendant right back into Lan Qiren’s hand. “Better you have it.”

“Lao Nie…”

“Jiwei likes you now,” Lao Nie said, as if that mattered. “She’s been just as avid to protect you as I’ve been, this past month – if I didn’t need her by my side, I’d almost be tempted to leave her here with you.”

Lan Qiren arched his eyebrows. “Are you suggesting that I can’t protect myself? Here? In the Cloud Recesses?”

“Saber spirits are not smart, Qiren. But even she can tell that you’re not well yet.”

Lan Qiren waved a hand dismissively. “Well enough,” he said, and it was even true – the grief was still there, of course, and likely would be every time he thought of Cangse Sanren in the near future, excluding maybe the few times when it was one of his students that resembled her only in terms of how much mischief she would get up to, but it was no longer drowning him. He had hope that, in time, this wound would also scab over and the hurt fade, and that at that time he could once again think of her with nothing but joy.

Lao Nie huffed. “Well enough isn’t well,” he grumbled, but that didn’t stop him from gathering his children and his disciples and heading out back towards Qinghe. “Take care of yourself, Qiren! Be well!”

“And you,” Lan Qiren said. “Keep out of trouble, my friend.”

From what he later heard, the party at the Nightless City went about as anyone with half a brain might have expected: Wen Ruohan swanned around until Lao Nie showed up, there were tense words exchanged, and then Lao Nie produced Jiwei, allowing Wen Ruohan to examine her and even pat her a few times before the Wen sect leader was forced, with great reluctance and through gritted teeth, to admit her superiority to the saber he had received.

The stories ended there, but Lan Qiren had enough imagination to fill in how the rest of the night might have gone, especially with the only sect leaders there being Lao Nie and Wen Ruohan. He sincerely hoped that Lao Nie had remembered all those lectures he’d given him about the foolishness of lying in the same bed as poisonous snakes, no matter how beautiful they might be on the surface.

Perhaps he had, perhaps he hadn’t.

Either way, Lan Qiren heard nothing else until the day he interrupted his own afternoon lecture with a sudden cry of intense pain – the jade pendant had abruptly gone so hot that it had burned, and although his clothing, protected by stitched-in incantations, was unharmed, the heat was so severe that it had nevertheless left a mark on his thigh through all those layers.

Clutching at his leg, Lan Qiren ordered his students to run to fetch him cold water and a doctor, and wondered what in the world had happened.

A letter, he decided. He would write Lao Nie a letter to ask.

#mdzs #lan qiren #sect leader nie #my fic #my fics #tedious joys

[sergeantsporks]

Do You Want the Knife You Left in My Back, or Can I Keep It?

Rating: Teen and up, Gen

An injured Hunter wanders into Hexside. What was Luz supposed to do, just let him bleed out on the floor?

Ch 5/6

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4

Ao3

Luz turned the cursed knife over and over in her hands. Viney had given it to her, joking about how her teachers were getting a little bit worried about why she had it. It was so small, but it had caused so much damage and pain.

“Hey, Luz, what do you have?” Eda asked, peering over her shoulder.

Luz felt the tiniest of grins creep over her face. “A KNIFE!” she yelled.

“NO!” King yelled back from the other room.

Eda plucked the knife out of her hands. “No weapons for you until you stop corrupting King with your human realm culture.” She squinted at the knife, peering at the runes on the hilt. “Oh, that’s a nasty one. Is this…”

“The one Kikimora used,” Luz said softly, “Yeah. I’m… not sure exactly what to do with it.”

“Give it to the golden nerd,” Eda joked, “Let him stab Kikimora back.”

Luz snatched the knife back. “Yeeeeaah, I don’t think that’s the greatest idea, Eda. Do you mind if I keep it with the other weapons?”

“Knock yourself out, kid.”

Luz set the knife carefully on top of a cabinet. What a nightmare. Who was even in the business of making weapons like that? She heard a groan from the other room, and she darted out into the living room. Hunter was awake, and had apparently just discovered that he couldn’t move.

“Hey! You’re up! And not fever-ish! How are you feeling?”

He buried his face in the couch again. “Ow.”

“Yeah, Viney said you’d be really sore. But hey, you’re not dying anymore, and you’re finally pretty conscious. So…” Luz pulled him up, shaking him. “WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!”

“Ow. Ow. Owowowowow, Luz! I can’t—”

“Move, I know, which is why we’re having this conversation now! Before you can wriggle out of it! Why would you leave the house?! Were you trying to run away? Kikimora was out there! You were barely even conscious when I left! She almost killed you!”

“I know. I knew she was out there, I knew she was setting up a trap, I just…”

“You just WHAT?! What could she have POSSIBLY said or done that made you stumble out of here, half-dead?!”

Hunter’s ears burned red, and he mumbled something she couldn’t quite hear.

“What?”

“She said she’d kill you,” he said louder, “She said she’d kill you, and I staggered out of here like a great big idiot in shining armor. I don’t know why I bothered.”

Luz’s mouth opened and shut a few times as she struggled to find words. She let Hunter’s shirt-front go, and he sank back onto the couch, wincing. “Oh,” she said finally, “Were you… going to trade yourself for me?”

He snorted. “Fat chance.”

“Hey!”

“What?! Trade my freedom for your life?! That’s the dumbest trap in the book, she’d just kill both of us! Who would fall for that?”

Luz felt her own face flush. “It’s not THAT stupid! Sometimes you don’t have much of a choice!” She flopped down to the floor. “What exactly was the plan, then?

“Easy,” he said simply, “I was going to rescue you.”

It was Luz’s turn to snort. “Wow, I never could have predicted that going wrong.”

His ears turned red again. “Hey! I can take Kikimora—I’ve done it before!”

“Yeah, when she was punch-drunk on sleeping nettles and you had a staff! Not when you were half-dead from being stabbed and feverish!”

“If you must know,” he sniffed, “I was planning on sneaking past her, not confronting her directly!”

“Awwww, well, I’m very flattered. Even if I was never actually captured. Thank you very much.”

He looked away. “Whatever. I just figured I probably should help. Since you saved my life and everything.”

Luz kicked the couch. “Admit it. You were worried about me.”

“No, I wasn’t. I was worried you’d annoy Kikimora to death.”

“You weeeeereeeee. You were totally worried. We’re friends now.”

“You’re not my friend. Shut up.”

“I am. I am worming my way into your heart.”

“Yeah, a bile leech can do that, too, you’re not special.”

“A what?! Ewwww, never mind, don’t tell me.” Luz kicked the couch again. “Whatever. Keep being a grump, I’m not giving up on you.”

Xxx

Hunter watched Luz race up the stairs. His palisman fluttered down onto his shoulder, chirruping reassuringly.

“Don’t you start,” Hunter grumbled, “I can’t be friends with her! She’s the enemy!”

Another low chirp.

“Yeah, I KNOW technically you’re the enemy, too, but you’re an EXCEPTION to wild magic being dangerous. She’s like. Public enemy number one.”

“Wild magic isn’t dangerous,” Eda commented as she came through. She stopped, looking down at him. “I… heard what you said. About wanting to save Luz. Kid, why didn’t you come to me? You could have died out there! You nearly did!”

Hunter felt his ears start to burn again. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“Oh, wouldn’t I? I had a sister in the coven, and I saw how she turned out, so let me take a guess; you thought it was something you had to do on your own. You thought that if you accepted help, that made you weak. You thought that you’d made a horrible mess of everything, and you were scared that if you didn’t clean it up before the person in charge—me—found out, you’d be in trouble. Am I close?”

“No. I’m not scared of you.”

“Why you little—” Eda took a deep breath. “Shut up and listen, I’m trying to talk you through your trauma.”

“I don’t have any trauma.”

Eda found that incredibly hilarious for some reason, nearly bent double from laughing. “Oh… yeah, okay, kid. Sure. Alright, you’re not scared of me.” She looked him dead in the eye. “But are you scared of Belos?”

“No,” Hunter said automatically, “I’m loyal to Belos—there’s no reason to be scared of him.” Titan, he hated how his voice wavered. He wasn’t scared of Uncle Belos—he wasn’t. He just… didn’t want to disappoint him. As long as he did what he was asked, everything was fine.

Eda sighed, sitting down next to him and looking up at the ceiling. “Yeah, that’s what I thought you’d say. Look. Kid. If. You ever feel like you’re not safe in the keep. Or. I don’t know. You just finally figure out that Belos is not a good guy. If you don’t want to stay there anymore. I—guess—hrk—okay—Hngh—I guuuuuuess I wouldn’t mind. Too much. If you… came here?”

“What?!” Hunter yelped

Eda jumped up. “What?! I didn’t say anything, did you say something? Whatever, bye!” She summoned her staff and flew out the door before he could respond.

The palisman still nestling on his head warbled at him reproachfully.

“What? I can’t stay here! And I’m not going to leave the palace! So it doesn’t matter if she’d let me stay here or not!” He tried to get up, but his muscles were too stiff, and he gave up, instead flopping backwards onto the couch cushions, his palisman forced to flutter off of his shoulder and land on his head instead. “Ow. I just… want to go back home. Where it’s not confusing. Where I know what people want me to do—where I know how they want me to act.”

Still.

It was nice that she’d offered.

Xxx

“Ow!”

Luz dabbed at the stitched-up cut with the disinfectant Viney had left behind. “Quit being such a baby! You want to get another raging fever?”

“It would probably hurt less!”

“Scream into the pillows,” Hooty advised, sticking his face right in Hunter’s, “It’ll help!”

Hunter let out a strangled yelp.

“Hooooty!” Luz protested.

Hooty flopped down in front of the couch. “Lulu was in the emperor’s coven, and we’re the beeeeeeest of friends. I think the emperor’s coven is actually full of people who just want friends!”

“Hunter,” Luz said, wrinkling her nose at him, “Doesn’t want to be friends.”

“He can be my friend!”

Hunter screamed into the couch cushions.

Luz poked him in the ribs. “Hey, that was just rude.”

“If I could move, I’d tie your bird-worm into a bow,” he growled.

“But you caaaaaaan’t,” Hooty sing-songed.

Luz pushed at Hooty’s face. “Alright, alright, get out of here, give him some space.” She finished cleaning the stab wound and taped a fresh bandage to it. Hunter didn’t react, not even to complain about the sting, and she knelt down next to him, nudging his shoulder. “Hey. You okay?”

“Everything is so… complicated here.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know what anyone wants me to do!”

“Hunter, we don’t want you to do anything. I didn’t bring you here because I want something from you, I brought you here because it was the right thing to do.”

He groaned. “You don’t get it, of course you want something from me, everyone wants something from everyone, but I can’t figure out what it is you want me to do here! You keep saying I don’t have to do anything, and that this isn’t business, but—”

“Hunter. Hunter. Look at me. Look at my face.”

He turned his head with a wince, and she helped him sit up, squishing his cheeks between her hands and forcing him to look her in the eye. “I don’t want anything from you. Not one single thing. Neither does Eda, neither does Hooty. Got it?”

“But—”

Luz squished his face harder, cutting off his words. “No buts! Nothing! No ulterior motives! We are not Belos, we are not Kikimora. You don’t have to give us anything. I want to be your friend, Hunter, a real friend. Gus and Willow and Amity drop everything to help me, and they never expect me to do anything back. I’d do the same for them. And I’m trying to do the same for you.” She let go of his face. “Okay?”

He bit his lip, looking just about the most lost she’d ever seen him. “Mmmmmmmmmm…”

Luz sighed. “Right. Can’t change an entire life philosophy in a day, I guess. Okay, uhhhh...” she spotted King eyeing Hunter with narrowed eyes that she knew meant he was about to pounce. “…King wants to use your lap as a nap spot. You can’t really move around anyway, so…?”

Hunter almost immediately brightened. “I can do that.”

King almost immediately catapulted onto Hunter’s lap, curling up. “Ha. You tried to lock me in a cage. Now I am the ruler! I hold the power, here, and you are in a cage of my making!”

Hunter glanced down at demon in his lap. “He… doesn’t have worms, does he?”

“Hey! King is worm-free, thanks very much!” Luz leaned in closer. “But between you and me, you might want to watch out for fleas,” she murmured.

“That—that was a joke, right?”

Luz straightened up, running for the door. “Okay, have fun, you two, I’m off to school!”

“Luz! Tell me it was a joke!”

Ch 6

#toh #the owl house #toh hunter #luz noceda #toh fanfiction #my writing

[prolestariwrites]

Ashes [Chapter 1] by lickitysplit

Fandom: Resident Evil Characters: Jill Valentine/Carlos Oliveira Rating: M (Mature)

Summary: A year after the destruction of Raccoon City, Jill is ready to put the past in the past and get back to her life. When she and Chris are recruited to go after Wesker, it seems like the perfect opportunity... until she's partnered with the last person she ever wanted to see again.

Read below or on AO3 ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Jill jumps when a hand presses to her arm, and she swings her gaze from the window. She relaxes immediately when she registers it was just Chris, slumping a bit in the back of the taxi as she catches her breath.

“You okay?” he asks, half-concerned and half-laughing.

“Yeah. Wool gathering.” She shakes herself and blinks at him. “What is it?”

“Just wanted to check,” he says. “You seem nervous.”

Jill chuckles a bit to hide her nerves that are very much on edge. “Nah,” she scoffs, shifting in her seat to adjust her seatbelt.

“I get it if you are. I mean it’s not every day we meet with the feds.”

“Maybe for you,” she laughs, “but I saw plenty the past eight months or so. No big deal.”

Chris’ lips press together in that look he gets when she makes light of Raccoon City. But he nods and turns to look straight ahead as the taxi weaves through the traffic. “Still…”

“Don’t tell me you’re nervous,” Jill says, keeping her tone light. “You’ve been meeting every official who’s crawled out of the woodwork. This should be a cakewalk for you.”

“County, yeah. State sometimes. But the DOJ?” Chris shakes his head. “This is gonna be big. I can feel it.”

Jill folds her arms and turns to look out the window again. He’s probably right; Chris usually is.

The taxi pulls up outside of a slick-looking office complex, and Chris pays the fare as Jill climbs out. She holds her hand up for shade against the late morning sun that is reflected brightly off the windowed stories. “Looks like something the feds would waste money on,” she comments after he joins her on the sidewalk.

Chris chuckles before giving her a nudge. “Let’s go.”

They pass through metal detectors that are set off by Chris’ weapon, which he surrenders at reception while they present their ID’s. Jill eyes the Glock almost longingly as it is tagged and set inside a locker, scowling a bit as Chris is handed a ticket to retrieve it later. It’s not fair that he’s been allowed to keep his weapons while she hasn’t, but that is an argument she’s been having with anyone who cares to listen for months. Not that it's gotten her anywhere.

She takes her license back from the receptionist before being pointed towards the elevators. They wait in silence until the doors open, and when they step inside Chris presses the button for the fifth floor. “Did you read the stuff I sent you on this guy?” he asks once the elevator begins to move.

“Yeah,” Jill replies. “Agent Donner, DOJ, blah blah. Probably wants to ask us about everything again, like we haven’t told them everything we know about Umbrella a thousand times.”

Jill can practically feel him give her a side-eye, which does little to help her already dampened mood. “Maybe not.”

“If it was just you, maybe not. But all I’m good for now is giving blood samples apparently. Can’t let the bioweapon have a badge.”

Her tone is harsh, and she hates taking it out on Chris. It’s not his fault that he’s been allowed to keep working, now reporting to the county since Raccoon City is gone. But it still stings that whatever powers-that-be that still exist won’t trust her to come on full time as an agent. Nobody knows Umbrella more than the former S.T.A.R.S. team, and as one of the surviving members, it’s beyond frustrating that she’s the only one not allowed to actually do anything.

The elevator dings and they step into another reception area. The secretary offers them something to drink before heading down a hallway, leaving them to wait. Jill examines the pictures on the wall, most of which are group photos of recruitment teams by year, alongside a handful of formal portraits of agents in dress attire. A pang presses sharp into her stomach, thinking of the similar memorial wall in the police station. Do all law enforcement groups have such traditions? Jill had never thought to wonder before.

“Agent Redfield!” They both turn as a man enters from the hallway, walking over to shake Chris’ hand. “I’ve heard so much about you. Welcome.”

“Thanks.”

“And Miss Valentine,” he continues, turning to her with his hand outstretched. “A pleasure.”

“Agent Valentine,” she corrects as she returns the shake.

He clears his throat. “Of course. Henry Donner. Let me show you where we’ll be meeting.”

They exchange a glance before following Donner down a long hallway. At the end is a meeting room, and conversation stops as they are introduced to a handful of other agents. Two are also from the Justice department, one from FEMA, and the final one is an FBI agent. It annoys her how Chris seems impressed, taking a seat quickly once the introductions are done.

“Do you need anything? Coffee?” Donner offers.

Chris declines but Jill decides to get to the point. “Why are we here?” she asks.

Donner clears his throat. “As you can imagine, the United States government is interested in finding all responsible parties for the unfortunate incident in Raccoon City. The FBI and the Department of Justice have been working closely together to track down the former executives of Umbrella, as well as information on any and all scientists who were knowingly or even unknowingly working on bioweapons.

“The search is going well,” he continues. “We’ve taken dozens of people into custody, and thankfully many former employees of Umbrella have come forward to volunteer information.” Donner glances around the room. “However, the investigation is not moving as quickly as the department, or even the president, would like. That’s why we’ve asked you here.”

Jill sighs. This seems like another afternoon of questions going hours on end, and she tries to think of a way to shut it down quickly. “What do you want exactly?”

“Your help, Miss— Agent Valentine,” he replies with a little wink.

Jill narrows her eyes as Chris quickly interjects, “We’ve given dozens of interviews. They’ve been recorded and on tape, we’ve handed over everything we know from our investigations. What more can we give you?”

“Agent Shields?” Donner prompts.

The one from the FBI stands, walking around the table as he carries a folder. “We’re prepared to bring you both on in an official capacity. Not as members of the department, mind—that would be impossible giving the time constraints. Rather, you would be sworn in as ad hoc agents, to assist with finding one particular suspect.”

Shields lays the folder down in front of Chris, and he opens it as he moves it so Jill can also see. Her eyes go wide as they fall on the picture paperclipped to the front cover. “Wesker?” she asks in confusion, looking up.

“He’s dead,” Chris argues. “He was killed in the Arklay Mountains.”

“We have reason to suspect he is alive,” Shields replies.

There is a moment of silence as Jill absorbs the information. Wesker, alive? Images of the mansion and the last time she had seen him form a grotesque slideshow in her mind. “That bastard,” she mutters. “He started this. He’s behind all of this.”

“How do you know he’s alive?” Chris demands.

“There’s intelligence the federal government has received that he’s been spotted overseas,” Donner replies. “I can’t indulge too much, but his identity was confirmed via DNA. Only…” He clears his throat, glancing at the other agents. “There were markers in his DNA that indicate some kind of mutation. We’re working with FEMA and the CDC to identify exactly what and how he has mutated, and there is suspicion that it’s an ongoing condition. Which is why we must find him, and fast. There’s no telling what he has, and what he can spread.”

Donner glances at her, and Jill’s face heats. “If he was infected with something, you’d know it,” she says. “It’s not like the infected were hard to miss in Raccoon City.”

“We know it’s not the T-virus,” the FEMA agent interrupts.

“It’s a yet-unidentified strain,” Donner continues. “Further intelligence from other Raccoon City survivors confirm at least one other Umbrella strain exists, known as the G-virus. Whatever is in Wesker, it’s neither of those, as we have samples of both.” He nods at Jill before saying, “You have antibodies from the vaccine you were given, as does Sherry Birkin, another survivor who had been inflicted with the G-virus. But we can’t say for sure that Wesker has such a precaution. And until we know for sure, we need him in custody, or else the entire world is at risk.”

Jill’s heart pounds as she looks back down at the file. Finally, a chance to do something, get the hell out of the lab and her cramped apartment where she’s under near-constant surveillance. A smile curls on her lips as she thinks of finding Wesker and bringing him in, right after she puts her foot right up his ass.

“So you’re sending us to find Wesker?” Chris asks. “Why us?”

She resists the urge to poke him. “Do you want to do this or not?” she hisses.

“Of course I do. I’ve been wanting to get my hands on Wesker since that damn mansion.” He frowns at Donner. “You have every agent probably looking for him. So why us?”

“Chris.”

“It’s a fair question,” Donner says. “Truth is, we’ve been chasing him for well over a month. There’s just not enough information to get a lock on him. We can’t predict his movements, and with almost everything from Umbrella now destroyed, we’re fumbling in the dark trying to guess his associates, his contacts, find his safe houses.”

Shields leans against the table and taps on Wesker’s picture. “You two worked with him. You know him, his movements, how he thinks. We’re confident if we put you in the field, you’ll be able to identify the right movements for the department.”

Jill is nearly vibrating with excitement. “You’re going to deputize us then?”

Donner nods, and Jill grins, giving Chris an elbow. “Come on, Redfield, don’t you want to partner with me again?”

He gives her a wry look, but Donner shakes his head. “You won’t be partnering together. That was the original plan, but things have changed.”

Jill’s brows go up as Chris looks unconvinced. “What changed?”

“New intelligence points to Wesker making contact with an arms dealer,” Shields explains. “Seems like he’s running out of cash and needs to sell a few secrets. Problem is, we don’t know which dealer.”

“We’ve narrowed it down to two,” Donner finishes. “You’ll both be sent on recon with an escort. Interpol is also interested in securing Wesker, and we’ve been given additional support from the UN to find him.”

Now even Jill is impressed. “Interpol? Really?” She decides she doesn’t care what Chris says; this is too good to pass up. “I’m in. I’ll do it.”

“Me too,” Chris agrees, closing the file. “Finding Wesker is what’s important.”

“Great!” Donner rubs his hands together as he stands. “Let’s get started then. You’ll need to fill out some paperwork, get briefings, and we’ll take care of onboarding this afternoon. Follow me.”

They say their goodbyes and follow Donner out again, who takes them back towards the elevator. “Oh, wait here,” he says once they return to the reception area. “I need to get a few things. Then I’ll take you down for processing.”

As soon as they are alone, Jill turns to Chris with eyes wide with excitement. ���Can you believe this?” she whispers. “The fucking FBI is sending us on a mission. We’re working with fucking Interpol. Can you believe this?”

“No,” Chris chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “This is the last thing I expected. I mean, can they do this?”

“It’s the government, they can do whatever the hell they want.” Jill sighs, her eyes closing briefly. “Finally, I’m going to get back to my life. I’ve been sitting around for months as they’ve poked and prodded and ran every test on me, and even with a clean bill of health they still won’t let me go back to police work.” Jill smirks to herself, folding her arms. “Bet that county sheriff is gonna eat his words now. Not cleared for duty my ass . Can’t wait for the prick to find out I’m an FBI agent now.”

Chris gives a snort as Jill enjoys her moment of smugness when Donner returns. “Perfect timing! Your partners just finished their own briefing, let me introduce you—Redfield, this is—”

But Jill doesn’t hear the rest, because as she turns, her smile melts into surprise when she sees Carlos Oliveira standing in front of her.

He looks exactly the same, without the blood and grime. Same curly hair that is way too long and falling into his eyes; same dark eyes that remind her of a puppy dog, eager and bright; same build, tall and broad and definitely a soldier. Her face heats as they stare at one another for a long moment until Carlos breaks into a grin. “Supercop! Are you kidding me? How are you?”

Before she can answer he sweeps her up into a hug, and Jill gives an oof as she is squeezed tightly against him. His arms are solid and his grip is strong as he presses his cheek to hers, but Jill is in too much shock to return the embrace. When he finally releases her, he keeps his hands pressed to her arms, smiling wide as he looks her up and down. “Thought they were messing with me. I can’t believe it’s really you! You look great!”

Jill stammers, “C-Carlos? What are you doing here?”

She looks around for an answer. Chris and the other guy are chatting, but Donner gives a nod. “I thought it would be a good idea partnering the two of you,” he says. “Oliveira’s been working with the UN in establishing protocol for viral outbreaks around the world.”

“I’m a liaison,” Carlos grins. “Pretty sweet, huh?”

“But you…”

She shakes her head to clear it, not even sure what to say. Thankfully, Carlos releases her arms, turning to Chris with his hand outstretched. “Redfield. Heard a lot about you. Nice to meet you, man.”

“Uh, same,” Chris answers awkwardly, glancing at Jill. “You’re the one that rescued Jill in Raccoon City, right?”

“I rescued him,” she mutters.

“Yeah, supercop here saved my ass more than a few times.” He pats the other man on the shoulder. “You teaming up with Nathan here? That’s awesome.”

“But what are you doing here?” Jill asks, louder this time.

All four men look at her. She can feel the color blooming on her neck, but she refuses to be the first to glance away. She had not gone through all the shit from the past year and a half, hell the past ten years : surviving the army, putting up with every comment and remark when training for Delta Force, fighting and clawing her way to prove that she was more than a girl with a gun, surviving a zombie apocalypse and a damned nuclear bomb to be ignored now.

“Well?” she demands.

“What do you mean?” Carlos laughs. “We’re partners again. Ain’t that great news?”

Partners. With Carlos Oliveira. The last man on Earth she had ever wanted to see again.

#resident evil #resident evil 3 #re3 #Carlos Oliveira #Jill Valentine #valeveira #carlos x jill #fan fiction #ashes

[sweeethinny]

Skin

Harry wanted to be able to show Ginny, through his eyes, how beautiful she is, and how all this insecurity with her body after giving birth to James is not necessary.

Since he cannot do this, he tries in other ways.

this fic is part of The Harry and Ginuary Extravanganza :) I'm sorry for any mistake

* all of this was written while I was listening to Mac Miller album The Divine Feminine, if anyone wants to get in the mood :)

read bellow the cut or in AO3 :)

Harry had been away from home for almost a month, which seemed more like a painful and torturous eternity than anything else. He missed Ginny and little James, it was much worse than the whole situation that he, Ron, and Theo got into, camping close to a pack of werewolves, and chasing a killer who seemed almost as good at hiding which even made them doubt their abilities as Aurors.

Harry was tired, with some bruises, hungry, missing his son who had not even turned a year yet and probably had grown a lot, and his wife. Harry wanted more than ever to hug Ginny and feel her against him.

He also really wanted to take a decent shower and lie on a bed that wasn’t a camp mattress, because Harry was no longer so young to be able to sleep in a bed like that.

It was worth it, he told himself when he could finally apparate to his home, in peace that he could be with his family again, Robards is looking to retire, he will end up choosing me . Harry didn't quite believe it, but Ginny repeated it a lot every time he complained about the boss; 'One day you will be the boss and you will not need to work like that.'

It was what he expected.

Since he had been a father, Harry was always trying to escape these suicide missions, but he was not always able, and he just hoped that when he was promoted, he would be able to spend more time at home. He never wanted so much to work with the Auror bureaucracy and leave the field.

He still enjoyed the excitement, the chase, the adrenaline, but he was no longer willing to risk his life so much.

In addition to Ginny, there was now someone else who encouraged him, even more, to return home alive.

When Harry opened the door, the smell of home entered his nostrils, a smell he never really stopped to notice, but after a month away, he managed to recognize it.

The hallway light on the second floor was on, probably for James to wake up. Harry took off his boots, cloak, and most of his clothes, and walked around the house, smiling for the first time in a month, seeing James's toys on the living room floor, and some scattered around the dining room, and a divine smell from the room that looked like a turkey, came from the kitchen. Hoping that Ginny was already asleep, as well as James since it was past one in the morning, Harry stopped for a snack.

He didn't even bother to heat the food, eating as if he hadn't seen food for more than days, devouring the deliciously seasoned turkey leg, and alternating with the remaining farofa and baked potatoes. It was a little rude and disgusting, he knew, but Harry felt his stomach echo with hunger, forcing him to forget the etiquette.

After less than ten minutes, he was fed, tiptoeing up to the second floor, James's bedroom door was open, as usual, and Harry couldn't help wanting to see his son and entered the room, taking be careful not to wake him up, seeing him resting deeply in bed, wearing adorable dinosaur pajamas, which put him on completely and prevented him from being cold at night. He looked bigger, Harry noticed, and with more hair, he wanted to hold his son in his arms, hug him but was content to just kiss his slightly sweaty forehead. Harry checked that the window was locked, closed the curtains tightly, covered his son, and left the room.

A part of him was satisfied, James was safe, well, and tomorrow would probably jump on Harry as soon as he realized his father was back. James always went to their bed in the morning, just asked to sleep with them and slept for a few more hours, but whenever Harry spent a few days outside, the next morning when the little one realized that his father was back, it was as if sleep disappeared.

After a month away from James' warm hugs during the mornings when they slept together, Harry was not complaining.

But he was not yet complete, not when he had not yet seen Ginny.

She was probably asleep, he thought, it was late and the days must have been tiring now that she was back to training, and without him at home to help with James, things should have been going smoothly. But the light in their room was on, which Harry found strange.

Still trying not to make any noise, because maybe she just fell asleep without even realizing it, Harry approached, opening the door a little more and sticking his head into their room, looking around.

Harry had already seen Ginny in many ways, they had a son together, however, he was not prepared for that.

She was standing in front of her dressing table, evaluating herself in front of the mirror on the wall, taking small turns to try to see her back, and then turning and facing the mirror. Ginny did not seem to feel the cold that Harry was feeling, since she wore one of the smallest lingerie he had ever seen, still seeming to assess whether the piece was beautiful or not.

The light blue lace made her look even more beautiful, contrasting with the freckles that spread over her skin and the light tan she was getting now that she was back in training. The bra barely hid her nipples, temptingly drawing her breasts, and not having the same common cut as the others she wore, and instead, this one had a few more buttons and went down to the beginning of her ribs, already in translucent fabric. The lace itself was only on the straps and the front of the breasts, descending in a V to the middle of the other fabric, something that made it look even more beautiful.

Ginny kept her hands in front of her belly, the same way she did a month ago when they were going to have sex, or she ended up undressing next to him, and automatically hid her belly. Harry would always comment that she didn't need to hide from him, but Ginny insisted that she still didn't feel safe with her body.

‘Pregnancy changed me,’ She always said. 'You don't know what it's like to see your body change dramatically in a matter of months... Now I have stretch marks where I never thought I would.'

Harry thought it was silly, Ginny was beautiful anyway, and he was still a fool in love, with or without stretch marks.

The panties also had that translucent fabric with a light blue background, it was one of those that had a high waistband and that he knew Ginny preferred to wear recently, but this one he could still see her belly, and the lace only appeared again from the front, covering only what was necessary, while at the back, it was just a small piece of the other fabric, not making much of a point of hiding anything from it, which made Harry salivate.

His imagination would never live up to the perfection that she was, how beautiful her ass made him a little too obsessed, or how her breasts had also changed after pregnancy, and all of James's breastfeeding.

'Hmmm… maybe?' He heard her murmur to the reflection, again turning around in a way that she could still look at her back, running her hands behind her thighs as if she wanted to lift her ass a little further. What Harry thought was unnecessary.

'I thought it was more than perfect.' He finally manifested himself, leaning on the doorframe and feeling his erection grow and cause that pressure against his pants.

Ginny jumped up and pulled her robe in front of her, startled and looking at him with wide eyes, pink cheeks and looking like she had managed to hold back the scream in time. ‘Harry!’

'Yea, it's me.’ He smiled.

'Harry .' Ginny finally seemed to realize it was him there, after a month, and dropped the robe back, running towards him and throwing herself at him in much the same way as the sunny days of 1996, but this time, he picked her up and kissed her with much more hunger and passion than he did at the age of 16, carefully closing the door behind them and taking her to bed, numb with longing and lust.

It was so good to kiss her again, to get lost in the warmth and softness of her lips, her small, slightly callused hands touching him as if to make sure it was him there, going from hair to shoulders, to cheeks, chest. It was as if she also checked that he was okay, whole, without any damage.

'I missed you so much,' he murmured between her kiss, falling on the bed with Ginny on top of him, his hands roaming everywhere he reached, feeling entirely at peace.

'I thought it would take you longer.' She cried, holding his face in her hands and parting their lips so they could look at each other. The brown eyes that Harry thought about daily were staring at him as if they hadn't seen him in years, shining on the sides as if Ginny tried to hold on to her emotions, struggling to hold herself in front of him.

Harry recognized the effort, but he didn't think it was necessary. It was just the two of them there, Ginny didn't have to hide.

He ran his thumb over her cheek, wiping away the one tear that ran. 'I was so scared,' she whispered, like a secret she had been keeping for days.

'Me too,' Harry admitted, failing to divert his attention from her caramel eyes. 'I just wanted to go back to home and be with you.'

'James missed you, he wasn't so happy and today was the first day he agreed to sleep in his bed.' Ginny smiled and lifted her shoulders, her cheeks turning slightly pink. 'Maybe he knew that Daddy would be back.'

'I'm glad he predicted that I would come back,' Harry let his eyes roam over her body, and now more closely he was able to see how the bra fabric barely made an effort to cover her skin. It was too much of a temptation to bear, and Harry barely contained himself before touching them, feeling heaviness in his hands and the heat radiating through the lace, making his stomach drop and his mouth water. Harry had missed it so much.

'You liked it? I went out with the girls after a workout, and Genevieve made me buy it, but I still don't know if it looked good.' Ginny said, her voice a little shaky as if she were that 11-year-old girl who couldn't look at him without blushing, which made him look up from those breasts he was in love with, and look at her. Ginny was really blushing, the red that covered her cheeks was also running down her neck and bust. ‘The bra doesn’t have much support and I don’t know if it looked so beautiful, I mean, it’s a beautiful piece, but I don’t think it looked beautiful on me .’

'Ginny,' Harry interrupted, holding her chin, forcing her to look at him, the other hand coming down her side and holding her in place, already sensing that she was trying to extricate herself from him. ‘You look hot,’ he said. ‘I’m feeling like a teenager, about to come in my pants.’

She laughed, that laugh he loved to hear. 'I would be really upset if even after all this time it was still happening.'

'I have learned to hold on,' He smiled, still caressing her cheek, smiling lovingly at Ginny. 'You and beautiful. In all moments.'

'Even when I was all sweaty, giving birth to James?' Ginny asked, laughing sheepishly as she laced her fingers through his, her auburn hair falling like lava on either side of her face.

'Of course.' Harry didn't take his eyes off hers, wanting her to understand that he was being more than real there. He wanted her to be seen through his eyes, and then she would understand how beautiful she is. 'I think I came to love you even more, if that is possible, that day.'

'Awn Harry, don't be so dramatic, you spend only a month away and when you come back you are declaring yourself as a passionate poet.' She laughed, but he did not fail to notice how Ginny's cheeks got even more flushed and she turned her attention to the wall behind the headboard, as if she tried not to let him realize that it affected her.

'I really missed you, that's why.' Harry shrugged, caressing her cheek and bringing her amber eyes back down to his, laying her head against his hand. 'I hate to be away from you for a long time... my romantic mind comes up and I have a lot of time to think about how to declare myself to you.'

'I hate it too when you stay away,' Ginny smiled, allowing him to see her without all those walls she put up for protection.

'Did something happen while I was gone?' He stared at her, noticing how her shoulders tensed and then relaxed when Ginny sighed and lay on his chest, hugging him as she could, as she usually liked to do during the cold nights.

'Nothing too urgent...'

'Ginny…' Harry whispered, running his hands down her back, feeling the skin prickle.

'Rita made a very pertinent comment about me.' Harry felt her tense under his arms again, and kept silent waiting for Ginny to continue talking. Somehow they got a picture of me training only in a crop top, and apparently I should wear t-shirts like the other girls... something to do with my belly and stretch marks.. ' She sighed.

Harry wanted to go to the Prophet and shout some truths that had been stuck for years, in Rita's face. But he just preferred to tighten his grip around Ginny, and kiss the top of her head.

'You look beautiful in any outfit.' He said, trying to be as clear as possible. 'Rita and everyone else are just assholes who are too self-centered to look at their navel for a minute... You are the hottest woman, Ginny, and I don't say that just because we are married.'

'My body has changed a lot in the last year.' She lifted her face, resting her chin on his chest and looking at him, her brown eyes flashed. 'I don't think I'll ever have that body again and-'

'-And you are still beautiful.' The two faced each other. 'You gave birth to a child, Gin, this is incredible. Your body being able to do that is incredible. I will never get tired of saying that. ’Harry smiled. 'I wanted you to see yourself through my eyes, and see how beautiful you are, even with all those things that you insist on saying are defects and that you hate them.'

'Don't make me cry,' She sat on his lap again, fanning her eyes and looking up at the ceiling, her cheeks flushed and a lovely smile on her face, Harry couldn't help but laugh too, feeling incredibly lighter than hours ago, as if now all that tension had been reduced to dust and there was only peace left in his chest.

'About this lingerie... do you have any plans, or are you just experimenting...?' He went back to browsing Ginny's sculptural body, almost drooling over how her breasts looked in that piece, and the transparency of her panties, which ended up exactly where it started getting more interesting. Harry groaned when she moved and stood on top of his cock, closing his eyes with the sensation of the gods it caused.

'I would surprise you when you came back, I thought it would take another week, then I would buy some candles, and cut my hair... But you ruined my plans.' Ginny smiled, biting her bottom lip as if she knew it was driving him crazy. ‘I believe you want to take a shower?’

'I might want some company,' Harry said, holding Ginny firmly in his lap, getting up from the bed and listening to her scream in fright as he walked to the bathroom in their suite, no longer feeling the fatigue from before. 'You know how needy I am after returning from missions.’

'It's a valid request.' Ginny hugged his neck, hands clinging to his hair, as if he were the life jacket that prevented her from sinking. He felt that way about her too. 'I missed having someone in the bath with me… Someone who doesn't want to mess up the bathroom with water and foam.' Harry laughed, placing her sitting on the white marble countertop, watching her body shiver as she made contact with the cold stone, waving with the wand for the hot water to start filling the bathtub.

'I might want to make a bit of a mess,' he said, approaching and feeling her warm breath against his face, before Harry narrowed the distance and kissed her, hungry but still keeping control, leaving his hands on her thighs, keeping them far enough away for him to stay in the middle.

'I like this mess,' Ginny whispered, her eyes closed and her forehead against his, breathing hard, the sound of water being the only one to fill the room. 'I am happy that you came back. I missed you a lot.’

Harry nodded, closing his eyes to make sure it wasn't just a dream, opening them again then just to see Ginny there. 'I felt it too. I am miserable without you.’

[...]

Harry woke up much later with small hands pulling the blanket off them, and the unfortunate murmurs of a child who tried his best to climb up on the bed. He sighed, feeling happy to get back to that routine, but he didn't move, wanting James to find out for himself that Harry had come back. It was a good time.

One more sigh from a boy who seemed very irritated by his young age, and then he finally succeeded, almost removing all the cover from Ginny, crawling up a little sleepily, still holding that light yellow cloth he always carried, and scratching his eyes.

The sun hadn't even risen, leaving the room in that gloom of the few hours before finally dawn, but Harry could see when James opened his brown eyes and threw himself on top of him.

‘Daddy!’ James shouted, hugging his father as he managed, cold hands making the man shiver.

'Hi my love,' Harry murmured, happy, tired, and a little too sentimental, feeling his eyes prickle. 'Speak low, it is still very early and mummy is sleeping.' He put James under the covers, stroking his son's slightly sweaty head, kissing the boy's forehead. 'We are going to sleep some more, okay? The sun hasn't even appeared yet.’

'Daddy…' James murmured, and Harry waited to see what meaningless phrase his son would try to murmur now, but the boy just kept his icy hands touching his father's face, as if to make sure he was really there.

He could not wait to be able to do fewer and fewer missions that required him to stay away from home for a long time.

'Sleep honey, daddy is here,' Harry assured him, snuggling the boy into his embrace, feeling finally complete, watching Ginny turn towards them, sleeping soundly, and then James, who was preparing for it, little hands clutched the shirt that Harry was wearing, as if it were his cloth.

Harry felt like the happiest man in the world.

#hinny #harry x ginny #Harry and Ginuary #fluff moment #Harry Potter #Ginny Weasley #James Sirius Potter

[thinkingisadangerouspastime]

love

Written for Day 7 of @aangweek! Read here on AO3.

~*~

7. love - don’t got nowhere to go / so we’ll go with the flow / yeah, we’re living the life / sippin’ on sunshine

“I can help clean,” Aang offered as Iroh began clearing their group’s cups and plates from the circular wooden table.

Iroh chuckled, shaking his head. “There’s no need -”

“I insist,” Aang interrupted, standing and collecting his own dishes. “It’s the least I can do to thank you for closing the shop early so we could be together without politicians and paparazzi peering over our shoulders.”

“There’s no use arguing with him,” Toph commented before Iroh could protest further. “Once Twinkle Toes decides to help someone, nothing will change his mind. Accept your fate, Iroh.”

Katara laughed along with the rest of their friends, and Aang gave them a guilty grin.

“Hey, I learned from my wife-to-be,” he teased, pressing a kiss to Katara’s forehead. “Never turn my back on people who need me!”

Katara rolled her eyes at his comment, but she couldn’t stop herself from smiling. Aang and Iroh gathered the last of the group’s dishes before disappearing into the kitchen.

Zuko hummed in contentment, draping an arm around Mai’s shoulders. “I wish we could meet up like this more often. Be together without all the chaos.”

Today had involved an annual meeting of important representatives from all four nations, this year hosted by the Earth King. In other words, Katara knew, it was a very rare opportunity for their friend group to reunite in full. Only after the day’s politics had ended, of course.

Sokka snorted. “I agree, but you’ve gotta admit it’s pretty much impossible for this to be a regular event.”

“Ember Island is always open for an impromptu vacation,” Mai reminded them, earning more laughter from the group.

“I might take you up on that soon,” Suki mused, pulling her hair out of its ponytail and shaking her head. “A vacation is sounding more and more attractive with every second.”

Katara allowed herself a breathy sigh. “Spirits, if I could get Aang to take a vacation…” She snorted. “That would be the day.” Her fiancé was notoriously stubborn about working until he dropped. In fact, there was only one other person whose work ethic could compare.

Mai chuckled. “Zuko is exactly the same. Always working himself into the ground.”

Ah, yes. There it was.

Toph snickered. “Sounds like a match made in the Spirit World. Are you guys sure Zuko and Aang shouldn’t be the ones getting married next month?”

Zuko flushed a shade of scarlet as bright as his fire. “I’m sitting right here, you know.”

Katara bit her tongue to hold back a snicker as Toph grinned at him. “Yes, I’m very aware.” Her grin narrowed into a sly smirk. “You’re sitting right here, and yet you deny nothing.”

Sokka burst out laughing, lightly elbowing Zuko in the ribs. “She’s got you there, hotman.”

Mai snorted at the nickname before giving Katara a play-sympathetic look. “Master Katara, how do you cope with the fact that my husband and yours-to-be are in love with each other?”

Katara sighed, leaning back in her chair and pressing the back of her hand to her forehead. “Oh, it was incredibly difficult for me to come to terms with.” She wiped an imaginary tear from her eye. “After I learned they’d kissed, I thought I’d never -”

“Oh, Agni,” Zuko groaned, burying his face in his hands at the same time Toph exclaimed, “Sparky and Twinkle Toes have kissed?!”

Katara couldn’t feign her melodrama any longer, letting herself succumb to a fit of intense laughter that made her entire upper body shake.

“Yes, they have,” Mai confirmed with a smirk. “It was hilarious, and I will never let Zuko hear the end of it.”

Zuko stared dead into the distance, his empty expression screaming that he’d rather be anywhere but there. “You’re going to tell them the story, aren’t you.”

The melancholic certainty with which he spoke was enough to make Katara snicker once more as she gave Mai a knowing glance, but before the Fire Lady could respond, Sokka spoke.

“Of course they’re going to tell us the story,” he scoffed. “The Avatar and the Fire Lord kissing? That’s the kind of thing you pass on forever to future generations!”

Suki laughed. “You sound way too invested for someone who has also kissed the Avatar,” she teased, smirking at her boyfriend.

Katara raised an eyebrow in amusement. Now that was news to her. “You did what, Sokka?”

Blood rushed to her brother’s face. “Not on the lips!” he squawked, crossing his arms over his chest. “I am just very comfortable in my feminine side around Aang.” He tapped his cheek. “So yes, we have technically kissed, but not like that.”

“To be fair, I’m pretty sure we’ve all been on the receiving end of Aang’s affection in some way or another,” Suki conceded. “That’s just his way of expressing love.”

A smile flitted onto Katara’s lips at her friend’s words. She knew most of all, perhaps, how Aang inclined towards physical affection. He was especially fond of kissing the tip of her nose.

“Really?” Sokka said, bewildered. “What, does he have a ‘thing’ with each one of us?”

Suki shrugged. “I mean, I guess so?” She smirked at their group. “Aang and I have a special, top-secret handshake. That’s our thing.”

Katara laughed. “I remember when Aang was just beginning to figure out the motions he wanted to include in your handshake.” She held her own hands up in joking surrender. “I was never privy to the final product, of course. Only experimental aspects.”

Sokka pouted. “First of all, I am hurt that I was never told this handshake existed. And second” - wounded, he placed a hand over his heart - “how come I don’t have a handshake with him?”

Suki rolled her eyes. “Babe, you said yourself that your thing with Aang is cheek kisses.”

Sokka appeared unconvinced. “Yeah, but I’m not the only one who gets cheek kisses from him.” He jutted his thumb towards his sister. “Katara gets them all the time!”

“Katara is also going to marry him, Snoozles,” Toph said with a snort. “I don’t think it’s totally off-base to consider she might have a few additional privileges compared to the rest of us.”

“Katara might be the one who snagged the Avatar,” Mai drawled, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips, “but I think it’s safe to assume that everyone in here had a crush on Aang at some point in their life.”

Katara burst out laughing both at Mai’s declaration and the different forms of denial that followed. She’d long since accepted the reality that Aang’s charm meant many people would fall for him. And if anything, it made her feel even luckier that she was the one preparing for a wedding.

Mai appeared to thrive on the chaos she’d incited. The Fire Lady had clearly been spending more - maybe too much - time with Aang. “I don’t know why you’re all so up in arms about this,” she commented, studying her nails. “When I saw him dressed up for Zuko and I’s wedding, I wondered if I was marrying the right man after all.”

Zuko choked at her words, and Mai laughed as she patted him on the back. “Kidding. But I did think Aang was the best-looking man at the reception.”

Everyone’s gaze turned to Zuko, who sighed, shoulders slumping. “No, I agree with her.” He flushed, his eyes dropping to the table. “Aang was definitely the most attractive person there.”

Katara remembered that outfit of her fiancé’s fondly. Saffron robes that danced the line between classy and casual, as fitting for an Air Nomad Avatar. And perhaps she recalled the attire begrudgingly, too, as it had attracted both wanted and unwanted attention towards her then-boyfriend at the reception.

“I’ll admit my heart fluttered the first time Aang returned to Kyoshi Island after the war,” Suki mused. “I hadn’t expected him to get so tall.”

Sokka gave his girlfriend an affronted look. “Wait a minute. Wasn’t I there -”

Suki silenced him with a finger over his lips. “Sokka. We both spent that weekend discussing how hot Aang had gotten. Don’t deny it.”

Katara raised an eyebrow at her brother. “You were planning to make some moves on Aang?”

Sokka’s face reddened. “You know what?” he finally said. “Maybe in another life. I’ll leave it at that.”

“You’ve been awfully quiet, Toph,” Mai commented, giving the earthbender a small smirk. “When did you realize you had a crush on ‘Twinkle Toes’?”

Toph crossed her arms over her chest, which Katara noted with amusement did nothing to hide the rosy blush coloring her friend’s cheeks. “Never. Because unlike all of you, I’m blind and therefore cannot be affected by Aang’s so-called ‘good looks.’”

“Aw, but Aang is so much more than his looks,” Katara teased, unable to remain out of the chaos Mai had incited any longer. “What got you, Toph? His voice? His jokes? His incessant kindness towards anyone and anything?”

Toph opened her mouth before slamming it shut. “Fine,” she grumbled. “I’ll tell you. On one condition.” She pointed at Zuko. “I still want to know how Sparky and Aang locked lips.”

Mai snickered at her husband’s misfortune, and Katara herself couldn’t help but laugh as Zuko muttered a variety of curses under his breath.

“An easy deal,” Katara agreed. “Now tell us - what got you?”

Toph exhaled a resigned sigh. “His voice,” she grumbled, and the table burst into another round of laughter and cheers. Really, they were lucky that Iroh or even Aang himself hadn’t returned to investigate all the noise.

“Honestly, no one can blame you there,” Sokka remarked, shaking his head. “Who could have predicted Aang would grow up the way he did?”

Katara raised an eyebrow at her brother, though she doubted the expression was as intimidating as she intended it to be. “Really?”

“Okay, well, except for you -”

“Enough chatter!” Toph interrupted, slamming a fist on the table. A smirk pulled at her lips. “Sparky? Storytime?”

Zuko groaned. “Remember how I said I wished we could all meet up more often?” He shook his head. “I take it back.”

Suki laughed. “Stop whining and get on with the story, Zuko.”

“Or else I’ll tell it for you,” Mai added, slipping her hand into her husband’s. Katara couldn’t deny the story would be funnier if Mai told it, as she’d already heard it a dozen times from her friend.

Zuko sighed. “It’s not even an exciting story.” He rolled his eyes. “I was going over some paperwork with Aang and Mai. At one point, Aang was called away for - for Avatar business, or something.” He huffed. “Aang went to give me a ‘goodbye kiss’” - Zuko pointed to his forehead - “because that’s his ‘thing’ with me, I guess. But I didn’t realize what he was doing, so I looked up to ask him a question, and we -”

“- and you accidentally kissed?” Sokka finished flatly. “Aw, man! That is boring.” He shook his head in disappointment. “Such a letdown.”

“What Zuko conveniently forgets to mention every time he tells this story,” Mai said, amused, “is that he leaned into the kiss.”

Toph burst out laughing as Zuko adamantly protested that no, he had not, no matter what his wife said. “So,” the earthbender said amidst her snickers, “what I’m hearing is that Zuko never really got over his crush on Aang?”

“No, he did not,” Mai mused. “But it’s not like I can hold that against him. Having a crush on Aang is perfectly understandable.”

“If it’s any consolation, Zuko,” Katara said, resting her elbows on the table and placing her chin atop her hands as she gave the firebender a devilish grin, “Aang thinks you’re a pretty good kisser.”

Her comment set their group off for the umpteenth time, and Katara snickered at the rollercoaster of emotions roaring over Zuko’s face. There was nothing better than sparking a little chaos every now and then, was there?

Huh. Aang had rubbed off on her, too. She supposed being engaged to him would do that.

“Uh… I feel like I missed something here?”

Katara bit the inside of her cheek to contain her laughter as Aang dropped into his seat beside her. “Oh, no. You didn’t miss anything.”

Aang stared with a mixture of amusement and bewilderment at their friends, who were yet to collect themselves. “Are you sure? What did you guys talk about without me?”

Katara hummed noncommittally, shrugging. “Nothing special.” She pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Just how much we love you.”

~*~

more of aang being adored by his friends in fanworks 2k21, please and thank you. i hope you enjoyed my collection of ficlets for the week, and as always - thank you for reading!

#aang #aang week #aanglove #atla #avatar the last airbender #katara #sokka #toph beifong #zuko #suki #mai #the gaang #every aang ship gets dropped in this kdsjkdasks #kataang #sokkaang #taang #zukaang #sukaang #maiaang #atla fanfic #atla fanfiction #amy writes

[duelistkingdom]

you’d come back to me

chapter fifteen: romance

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Summary: Seto Kaiba has been presumed dead for four years after the events of Dark Side of Dimensions. His return causes both unresolved feelings of grief to be brought to the surface and the past to be dragged right back up. In hopes of helping Seto move on and reintegrate back into society at large, Mokuba asks Yugi to work on Spherium II with Seto. Never one to leave a friend hanging, Yugi agrees. Over the course of the project, Seto and Yugi both come to terms with their mutual grief and grow towards a better understanding of each other.

Rating: T

Ships: Yugi Mutou/Seto Kaiba, Mokuba Kaiba/Rebecca Hopkins, Katusya Jonouchi/Mai Kujaku

Warnings: aged up characters, grief, references to suicide

consider supporting me on kofi / battle city tiers & above get first access to chapters!

Seto had never really had time for romance before. He’d always had some sort of project and some reason to put it off. It had been easier to avoid dating when no one ever really appealed as someone to have around Mokuba. Between his duty to Kaiba Corp and Mokuba, Seto had dozens of reasons to not date. Now he had none of those reasons. He was starting to find that he actually liked going on dates with Yugi. Most of the time Yugi would take him to dinner. This time, Yugi had asked him to go to a concert with him. Seto had been tempted to turn down the offer simply because the idea of being near people in a standing only capacity gave him hives. Yugi, however, had predicted this and said they had seats.

On the day of the concert, however, Yugi had abruptly said that he needed to get his camera from his childhood bedroom. “Why didn’t you get it before?”

“Forgot about it til now,” Yugi said with a shrug as they entered the Kame Game Shop. Instead of Suguroko, a woman was there with an apron on. “Hi, mom. This is my boyfriend, Seto. Seto, my mom, Yui Mutou. Mom, I thought grandpa was supposed to be working today?”

Seto would have expected that this was a ruse to introduce him to his mother if it wasn’t for that last sentence. Regardless, Seto stiffened as Yui’s eyes went wide. “He was,” she said as she stepped out from behind the counter. It struck Seto how almost everyone in the Mutou family was short. This woman could not have been more than 5’5”. “I wish I’d known you boys were coming over! I would’ve had snacks!”

“There’s no need,” Seto said as Yugi bound up the stairs, leaving Seto behind to fumble with Yui on his own. “We are merely here to pick up a camera from Yugi’s room.”

“Oh,” Yui exclaimed, looking a little embarrassed. “You should probably go tell Yugi that his grandfather took it for repairs. I’ll find another camera for him to use. Oh, also, you two absolutely have to come over again tomorrow. I’ll make dinner and we can get to know each other! I’ll make sure Shogi is here so he can meet you as well.”

Seo was grateful for the excuse to follow Yugi up the stairs, not bothering to wonder who Shogi might be. He supposed in addition to telling Yugi about the camera, he should tell Yugi that his mother wanted the two of them over for dinner. Following Yugi up the stairs of the Kame Game shop felt strange. Partly because he’d never been this far in the shop and partly because it was so much smaller than he’d expected. His head almost grazed the top of the staircase. It was as if he was unwelcome in this home.

It was hitting Kaiba that he’d never actually been in this room. He was too tall for this room designed for someone who was under six foot. The bed looked as if it could barely contain Yugi now that he’d gotten taller than 5’5” and it was neatly made. Yugi turned to him, a raised brow and a look that Kaiba could finally read: vulnerability. “Sorry it’s not much,” Yugi said as he shrugged. “We only need to be here for a moment, anyway. I just… needed to get my camera before we go to the concert.”

Kaiba noted the photos of his friends on the pinboard. Anzu was the most prominent featured across all the photos and the second most prominent was Jonouchi. He noted that the youngest photo of Yugi featured Anzu and Yugi at some sort of playground that Kaiba was certain no longer existed. The photos where Anzu appeared to be about thirteen had Yugi starting to blush around her and Kaiba felt a stab of jealousy. He knew that Yugi had a crush on Anzu at one point but it was strange to see the proof in the photos. Jonouchi did not show up until Anzu appeared to be sixteen while Yugi still looked rather young.

In fact, the only way to date the photos was by how old Anzu was until the year the Pharaoh had left. “I didn’t realize you’d have so many photos in your room.”

Yugi shrugged as he looked around. “I guess I do have a lot of photos,” Yugi remarked, frowning as he stared at one that was clearly taken before the Pharaoh left. “It’s nice to hold memories to your chest, I guess.”

A stabbing ache entered his chest as he thought of the memories he had. Very few of them he’d considered worth preserving on a bedroom wall like this. “Interesting.” Then he remembered what he was here for. “Your mother said your grandfather took your camera for repairs. She’s getting you another camera to borrow.”

Yugi stopped looking through the draw and slammed it shut. “Wish she’d told me that before I started looking for that,” Yugi remarked. “Alright, then let’s go downstairs. Anything else I should know?”

Seto shifted awkwardly. “She also wants us to come over for dinner tomorrow.”

 Yugi had explained that Shogi was the name of his father. Seto supposed he should have known that. Yugi had scoffed when Seto showed up to his apartment in pressed slacks and a button down shirt, remarking that he looked like a dork. Seto would have been more annoyed if it hadn’t led to Yugi reaching out to unbutton his shirt. “You’re just meeting my parents, not pitching a new Duel Disk,” Yugi said and it took everything Seto had to focus on what Yugi was saying. “You don’t need to dress for a board meeting.”

The shirt came off and Yugi handed Seto one of his black turtlenecks that he’d left here. “Isn’t this dirty?”

“Don’t worry, I made sure the clothes you left here got dry cleaned,” Yugi said as he tossed Seto a pair of pants that he’d left behind. “The ones that survived, anyway.”

A blush crept across his cheeks at the mere mention of what tended to happen to his clothes whenever he came over to Yugi’s place. Rather than comment, he instead shuffled off to change as Yugi called out that Seto could’ve changed in the living room. Absolutely not. It gave Seto a chance to think over what he was going to say and do when he met Yugi’s parents. How much of their past did they know? What did they know of the Millennium Puzzle and who had occupied it? He supposed the only way to know those answers would be to ask Yugi directly about it. He exited the bedroom, feeling rather dressed down to meet his boyfriend’s parents. “What do they know about the Puzzle, anyway?”

“Not much,” Yugi said with a shrug as he grabbed his wallet and keys. “They know that you’re why grandpa doesn’t have his Blue Eyes card anymore and they know that I did tournament circuits in high school. They also know grandpa and I went to Cairo in my senior year but they never asked why. I think they think that grandpa was just sharing his love of Egypt with me.”

“They don’t know anything about the Pharaoh?”

Yugi shook his head. “Never bothered to tell them,” he admitted as he led Seto back to his car. Despite everything, Yugi still insisted on driving himself instead of letting Isono drive. “I think they suspected that something was up… after Atem left but they’re under the impression it was simply a break up.”

A break up. Seto supposed it made sense that on top of what little he knew about Yugi that of course his relationship with the Pharaoh had been different from what he thought. He’d assumed Yugi had been irrelevant in the equation, that Yugi had merely been a vessel for the Pharaoh. The more Yugi talked about the Pharaoh, the more Seto realized that Yugi had been more involved than he’d previously thought. “I see.”

“I doubt it’ll come up,” Yugi said with a shrug as the car started. “You don’t have to worry about anything with my parents, I promise.”

Regardless, Seto remained nervous as they arrived at the Kame Game Shop. Instead of going in through the game shop part of the home, Yugi led him through a backdoor that opened into a tiled entryway. The two of them took off their shoes and Seto noted that none of the house slippers would fit him. The pair that apparently were used by Jonouchi was still just a bit too small, leaving his feet still hanging off. Once again, the home’s size was rather small and felt like it was trying to reject him.

The walls were constantly too close and he found himself bumping his elbows against a lot of things. It shouldn’t have been surprising to discover that Shogi Mutou was also short. In fact, Yugi was taller than his father. Shogi, for his part, seemed surprised to see Seto standing in front of him. “I see,” Shogi remarked. “When you said Seto, Yui, I wasn’t expecting it to be Seto Kaiba.”

Yui nudged Shogi with a roll of her eyes as the group sat down at the table. Seto didn’t bother to comment that he wasn’t bothered by Shogi’s reaction. It was entirely possible that most people did not expect a formerly dead CEO to be their son’s date. “Dad, please,” Yugi said and it struck Seto how much Yugi sounded as if he was still a teenager whenever he was around his parents. Was this the impact of parents? Did they make someone act younger? “Don’t embarrass me in front of my boyfriend.”

“Fine,” Shogi said with a grin and Seto saw exactly where Yugi got his smile from. “So you’re still working for Kaiba Corp, right? I heard your brother wouldn’t give you back the CEO position when you came back.”

Seto wasn’t expecting an immediate question on his line of work. “Mokuba felt that I was not yet prepared to return to work at full capacity,” Seto responded, figuring it would be better to not lie to Yugi’s parents. “Instead, he asked me to work with Yugi on Spherium II. I suppose it was to see how I could handle any level of workload.”

“You say that as if you didn’t attempt to stay late several days to work on Spherium II,” Yugi remarked and Seto noted the food in front of them. As Yui promised, it was clearly home cooked and Seto realized that Yugi must have learned to cook from her. He took an experimental bite. It was delicious. “And before you ask, dad, it’s in the beta phase. We’re hoping it’ll be ready for general public release next year. Mokuba and I have been talking about making sure that the Kame Game Shop gets exclusive first launch rights.”

“I’m sure our franchisers will be grateful to have access to such an exclusive launch,” Shogi remarked. “Have you talked to your grandfather about the display?”

“How many times do I have to tell you and Yugi no shop talk at dinner,” Yui said, sounding rather fond instead of truly angry. “Where’s Mokuba, by the way? I was hoping to see him again.”

“He’s having a date night with Rebecca,” Yugi remarked. “I’ll invite him and Rebbeca next time.”

Next time? As in, Yugi expected Seto to come to dinner with his parents again at some point in the future? Seto didn’t understand why Yugi would just assume that this was going to end well. Seto still wasn’t sure that this dinner wouldn’t go south. “Oh, good,” Yui said, looking rather pleased. “I’m glad Rebecca and Mokuba are still together. How is Rebecca’s studies going?”

“She’s hit a wall in her dissertation and has been talking it over with her postgrad supervisor,” Seto answered before Yugi could. “I don’t know why she’s so concerned about the contents of it, however. She’s concerned that the discussion of the AI that Duel Links runs might have been a topic someone else sniped. As if anyone else could understand it the way Rebecca and I do. Aside from that, she’s doing fine.”

If this was news to Yugi, he didn’t show it. “You’ve been helping her, then,” Yui asked. “That’s nice.”

Yugi rolled his eyes in response to that. “Well, Seto did build the entire AI for Duel Links,” Yugi remarked and for a minute, Seto thought he might bring up the AI version of the Pharaoh. Instead, Yugi had a grin on his face. “Makes sense that he’d be able to help Rebecca write a paper on the subject.”

It was strange how this conversation seemed on surface level to be rather low stakes. Nothing either Shogi nor Yui asked ever felt like it was out to get him. Despite this, Seto felt like he was being tested on something he had not prepared for. If Yugi’s parents didn’t like him, would Yugi break up with him? He had to impress Yugi’s parents, if not for the sake of his relationship with Yugi. His entire future with Yugi was at stake. Everything seemed to be going well until Suguroku showed up halfway through. “Sorry about being late,” he remarked, looking rather jovial. “You know how I get caught up with the slots at the casino.”

“Dad, you know how I feel about that joke,” Yui responded, her exasperated sounding voice not pairing right with the fond expression in her wide, soft eyes. “You should know better than to go to the casino.”

“Ah, it’s not gambling if I win,” Suguroku said, eyeing Seto with a twinkle in his eyes. Seto instantly thought back to how Suguroku had wiped the floor with Seto when playing poker. If there was anyone that could win at a casino, Seto would imagine it would have to be Suguroku. “Isn’t that right, Seto?”

Yugi looked embarrassed. “Grandpa, don’t tell me you swindled Seto out of his money.”

“Dad,” Yui said, looking shocked. “Did you play poker with Seto?”

“He’s a fantastic poker player,” Seto said, figuring that there was no point in hiding that Suguroku had indeed pulled one over on him. “I wasn’t expecting him to be that much of a challenge.”

“If you want another challenge, you know where to find me,” Suguroku said, looking rather gleeful. Seto was surprised to find that he did, in fact, want to try to beat Sugoroku again at his own game. “Don’t worry, Yui. I won’t ruin dinner by schooling Seto in the art of poker.”

“And yet no one seems to ever learn,” Shogi remarked. “You know, Seto, when I first met Suguroku, he immediately took all the money I was planning on using for my date with Yui in a game of poker. Instead of taking her to the movies as I planned, I wound up taking her to the park for a walk.”

Suguroku laughed as if this was a funny story. “Well, at least it proves you were good at thinking on your feet,” he added on. “Besides, Yui thought it was sweet!”

“I thought it was charming and unique,” Yui said, a fond look in her eyes. “I wouldn’t trade that first date for anything. Besides, you made up for it with the next date. He took me to this wonderful restaurant that served the best crab legs you’ll ever have.”

“See,” Suguroku said with a wink at Seto. “Always a second chance to make a better impression.”

There was something buried in that and Seto couldn’t understand it. Was Suguroku still angry with him for what had happened? No, that couldn’t be it. It was very clear that Suguroku was well past everything that had happened all those years ago. “This is true,” Shogi said. “Not only that, you might find that it’s for the best that things happened the way they did.”

“Though I do have to ask,” Suguroku said, looking mischievous. “When are you planning on making an honest man out of my grandson?”

“Dad,” Yui exclaimed, looking mortified. “Sorry, he did that to Shogi too,” she said, sounding as if she was trying to smooth things over. Despite Yui and Yugi’s mortified expression, Seto couldn’t relax. The concept was overwhelming and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. “You don’t have to answer that.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” Yugi said in a rush, a bright red flush appearing across his cheeks. “Seriously, grandpa, there’s no need to pressure anyone here.”

Despite the assurances from Yugi and his parents, Seto started to wonder when that would be expected of him. Was he ready for that? Seto did want a future with Yugi. That was all he knew. He didn’t know what marriage would mean here, nor did he know what that would feel like. What he knew as of right now was that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Yugi. What was marriage if not a promise of that? Still, it was not something he wanted to discuss with Yugi’s parents as of yet. Not until he knew for sure that he was ready.

In fact, he was certain that if he wanted to be worthy of marrying Yugi, there were still a few more things he needed to do before he could reach that point. Seto could only hope that Yugi would be willing to wait for Seto to be certain that he could provide a stable future for the two of them. And as the night went on, Seto started to realize that perhaps he could settle into having a family again. It was strange to feel so welcome.

At the end of the night, Yui grabbed him by the cheeks, pulling him down so she could press a kiss to his forehead. She shoved leftovers in his hands, fretting about how he was simply too skinny. No matter how much he stammered that he was fine, she insisted on trying to take care of him. Was this what a mother was? She told him that he could come over any time if he needed more food. For some reason, he thought that he might actually take her up on the offer if only because dinner had been fantastic.

Shogi had given Seto a polite bow, telling him that he was often out of the city for work and gave Seto his cell phone number. This came with a demand that Seto use it if he needed to talk to anyone. Seto wasn’t sure what use that would be to him. Shogi had pulled Seto aside after Yui finished fretting over Seto. “I know that you don’t have a father in your life,” Shogi said, sounding concerned. Seto had no idea what this had to do with anything. He hadn’t had a father for years. It was the one thing that he knew for sure about this new world he’d come back to. “But if you’re dating my son, that makes you my son too. That means I’m going to be here for you, Seto.”

Despite the temptation to state that he had no need for a father, he couldn’t bring himself to say that. It was strange how it felt like he wanted to both shove Shogi away and start crying in gratitude for the approval. Instead of doing either of those things, he merely nodded. “I’m glad to have your approval of my relationship with your son,” Seto said softly. “Thank you for welcoming me into your home.”

#rivalshipping #rivalshipping fanfic #myfanfic #fanfic: you'd come back to me #fic: you'd come back to me

[grishaversecommunityyy]

The Grishaverse Ship Survey Results

So! After all of that, we finally have the results! What is the general opinion on the ships in the Grishaverse? Well, that’s for you to read below! It’s actually pretty interesting and, while some parts make sense, there were definitely some parts which... surprised me... Anyway, onto the results!

Everything in this post can be split into:

The Grisha Trilogy

Six Of Crows Duology

The Nikolai Series

Shadow and Bone: TV Series

Most Enjoyed Ships

Least Enjoyed Ships

Crack Ships and Shipping Discourse

Notes from the Survey 

(note from mod emily: i tried to bold all of fritz’ comments, but i might have missed a few! be aware there are two of us analysing here :))

The Grisha Trilogy

The first book series we asked about was, of course, the first chronologically: the Grisha Trilogy. The most popular ship, with 83% voters for this series selecting this, was Genya/David (Fritz was glad to hear that; Yes I am). This is likely due to the lack of alternate romantic interests in the series, which seems to be a major issue for Alina’s ships. It also seems to be one genuinely enjoyed by most fans, in contrast to Darkling/Alina and Mal/Alina (each around 30%) and Nikolai/Alina (just under 20%), for which I have definitely seen plenty of debate. The second and third most popular ships for this series were Tamar/Nadia (55%) and Nikolai/Zoya (47%). Interestingly, Genya/Alina (43%) and Zoya/Alina (30%) ranked surprisingly high, especially considering how few of my friends and associates I hear talking about them. Good for them!

Honourable mentions:

Alina/Sun (no doubt inspired by that crack fic I wrote a while back) (Still havent read that out of fear)

Alina alone (a common concept among those surveyed, though most mentioned it later)

Zoya/Genya or Alina/Zoya/Genya

Six Of Crows Duology

This series was a little less divided, I would say. Predictably, Kaz/Inej came out on top with a whopping 96% of voters (:relieved:), with Wylan/Jesper next (90%) and Nina/Matthias just after (83%). None of the others really came close, despite Nina/Inej gathering 35% of the votes and Colm/Aditi at 25% (yeah, I’m not sure why that was so popular on AO3 either, but nobody really has objections so I assume that’s why it amassed so many votes). As Six of Crows is decidedly less divisive about ships and doesn’t have such controversial ships (more on that later), it seems the fandom agrees with canon pairings and the votes are... pretty unanimous.

Honourable Mentions:

Jesper/Wylan/Kuwei

Polycrows (platonic or romantic)

Kaz/Inej/Nina

Whoever didn’t read the instruction about this being for only the book series and put Jesper/Milo. I will never escape. 

The Nikolai Series

This one is a little harder for me because I actually haven’t read this... so over to Fritz for analysis! But first, the stats. At 85%, the most popular ship is Genya/David, followed by Zoya/Nikolai at 77%. Tamar/Nadia and Nina/Hanne draw at 61.5% and Nina/Matthias has 56% voters onboard. There’s no real honourable mentions for this one, sadly. Hello Fritz here! Read the books and very glad to see Genya/David as the top ship as it damn well should. Although still a bit surprising since its more of a side-arc of the two and only ties in with the importance of the story at a specific chapter that I feel like I don’t need to elaborate about, if you read Rule of Wolves. (I believe the popularity of the ship also sky-rocketed due to ROW) Following of course Zoya/Nikolai, the high ranking makes sense, it is the main ship and lets be honest they deserve it <3

I think the only really surprising thing about this is the high votes for Nina/Matthias since [SPOILERS CROOKED KINGDOM] he’s dead so I feel like people should move on from that. Nina/“Hanne” having not as high a ranking as I would’ve thought, but with Matthias still being in the frame I guess we shouldn’t be surprised either.

Shadow and Bone: TV Series

This one is really interesting, with the exclusive show watchers now taking part! We have 89% voting for Kaz/Inej, 76% for David/Genya, 71% for Matthias/Nina, 67% for Ivan/Fedyor (that’s a thing???-->Yeah they had a few somewhat sweet interactions in the background-->nvm i watched it you’re right fritz) and 62% for Mal/Alina. What’s really surprising is how high Malina is compared to Darklina, with Darkling/Alina at 36%. Who knows, maybe Fritz’ analysis can shed some light on this?

Yes yes Fritz to the rescue: First of all we have to see their interactions a little different from what we already knew of them by the end of episode 8. I still think it is a surprising number, since the Darkling in the show isn’t as nasty as he was in the books BUT over all his actions are now seen on TV. We all thought the deer antlers were a necklace amirite? Well no apparently not, the darkling used the worst kind of small science to fit Alinas collarbone to the bone and out comes a gruesome sight: a reason why many people might have started thinking: Wow what a disgusting person he is. And on the Malina “ship”: Mal finally has personality!! jkjk :eyes: Mals and Alinas friendship has been portrayed way better in the show and I believe that the people noticed more chemistry between them especially by the end of season 1. So I’m still a little surprised Darklina has such a low ranking (what with him being all sweet and cuddly in the middle of the show) but it makes sense and the Malina ship as well. Their vibes are just *chefs kiss* and thats coming from someone who didnt even like any of these “ships” <3

Loving the quotation marks for the word ‘ships’, Fritz. Over to the honourable mentions!

Honourable Mentions:

Jesper and Milo (isn’t milo a goat? guys, why?)

Nadia/Marie (huh that didn’t appear anywhere else)

One person had several - Kaz/Inej/Jesper, Dubrov/Mikhael, Dubrov/Mikhael/Mal - and yeah, you can really see the show differences in these mentions right? (whose dubrov...and whose mikhael...)

16% actually voted for Inej/Alina which is wild to me because of book context (they did have chemistry in the show tho :cowboi_smirk:)

Another person with several! We have Nina/Inej, Genya/Alina, Zoya/Alina, Zoya/Genya/Alina. Very sapphic. Good for you.

Kaz/Jesper and Nina/Inej all in one

That’s a lot of honour and mentions but it’s so interesting to me and I think you should see too

Most Enjoyed Ships

The most enjoyed ship was Kaz/Inej. This had unparalleled support, being at 35%. Jesper/Wylan, which was next on the list (23.5%) and Nina/Matthias (18%) were also pretty popular. Most of the others were quite low, though interestingly Mal/Alina only had 1 vote (plus one for the show version). Overall, the SoC ships were a lot more popular in this section, which makes sense - this part is really about your favourite ship, and those were more unanimous in the last sections.

Least Enjoyed Ships

Most people said Darkling/Alina, which got 47% of the NOTP votes. A lot more people disliked Darkling/Alina than liked Kaz/Inej. Make of that what you will, but I take it as a somewhat general agreement among many of you guys. Mal/Alina was also strongly disliked at 22%, but around a half or more of these were clarified to be about the book version of the ship specifically. They really must’ve upgraded in the show! Jesper/Kuwei and any other Darkling ships were also voted by a few, but all of these pale in comparison to the anti-Darklina votes. Shoutout to the person who said Apparat/Anyone. I agree, though it’s not something I thought of before seeing this response. Also one person said they didn’t like the poly ships, which I hope meant just the ones mentioned earlier and not all poly relationships in general... Another shoutout to whoever said Kaz/Heleen, because why did I have to read that. A fun question, all in all!

Crack Ships and Shipping Discourse

I love talking about crack ships, so let’s start with that! This time, I really don’t want to have to count and list because... well, let me show you:

I think that sums up the sheer variety, to be honest. Then again, it would be rude not to mention that the most popular were Jesper/Milo, Darkling/Nikolai and Alina/Sun. (If you’re still confused about that last one, I take full responsibility.)

YES KAZ/KRUGE I SUPPORT!!!

Honourable mention to this:

which was a lot to take in, and:

Now for the discourse. Yep, the part you probably came for. 

Actually... maybe you didn’t? Looking at all of these responses, I see a lot of people genuinely don’t care about ship wars and so on, and often enjoyed the books regardless of the romances involved. Quite a few disapproved of the ongoing (though small) wars between Darklina and Malina, and others had a similar line of thinking, saying we should maybe stop focusing so much on it. You guys are right. I know this is a ship survey, and the conclusions should not include that shipping isn’t as important as we make it (Yes it should), but... that’s where it’s at.

And then again, a lot of you guys expressed disapproval for Darkling/Alina, discussing how it is often one-sided and manipulative and overall unhealthy, so I could be completely off with that last one. Some people mentioned that they ship this but as a slightly different version that the one given to us, recognising the flaws of the canon ship.

Someone said they headcanon Tolya as aroace (OMG YES!!). We need more aroace characters, so thank you for that headcanon :) We also have a few gay ships mentioned here, and one person telling us they love Malina. Yes, you’re right - it’s pretty unpopular, it turns out. Someone else said Alina should’ve been single, and I agree, actually!

One person rickrolled me here. Thankfully, Youtube’s ads saved me. *wipes forehead*

I leave you all with this, in the end:

Notes from the Survey

Statistics Stuff:

The top ships were taken from AO3, so some ships may be more focused on in other books and may not provide accurate statistics for an earlier series.

The main circles this was sent around may have had bias as most people are from the same discord server, which has debated these topics in the past. Hence certain ships may have lower-than-average results. In future, this could be improved upon by sending this to other servers and areas of the fandom.

Personal bias may be present in the analysis, though I have tried to minimise this in the more formal sections.

Observations and Notes from Me:

You guys really don’t like Darklina. Or you love it. Usually one or the other. Wow.

Be glad I didn’t talk about any of the cursed ships in this. The things I have seen... (:cowboi_eyes:)

I thought more people would rickroll me, ngl.

What Surprised You Guys:

Kaz/Inej/Jesper

A few of you guys saw some of those cursed ships, and that surprised you. Well, me too!

Nikolai ships being in the TV Show section at all, what with his character not being in the show (yeah what was up with that huh tztz)

Inej/Alina

The existence of The Severed Moon

Darkling/Nikolai(/Alina)

How fun the quiz was :D

Things You Sent Me:

Bee Movie copypasta

“Nobody expects The Spanish Inquisition!”, except via an AO3 link

A fun fact about enzymes! I liked this one

Fic recs for Feriku and Sarai (esp for Wylan/Jesper shippers)

Another rickroll

Nice compliments :) aww you guys

I asked everyone for some kind of placeholder name and never used it. Sorry! But hey, anonymity, right?

Closing Statements

If you got this far (I feel like ive been sitting here for hours), thanks for reading! This was fun to do and I hope you enjoyed all of this too! The survey is still open for anyone who hasn’t done it but wants to. If I get a huge amount of new responses, I might update this post! But for now, adios!

-mod emily (and mod fritz)

#grishaverse #fandom #shipping #shadow and bone #six of crows #nikolai series #king of scars #the grisha trilogy

[sachigram]

With Teeth Chapter 3

((click here to read on ao3!!))

“Is that man coming by here again?”

Izaya pauses in his typing, sparing a glance at Namie, who is staring at him from her side of the desk. She looks bored, but that's nothing new. She hides her emotions well. It's one reason he can tolerate her, despite her unpleasant personality and obsession with her brother. She's fun, hard to predict. She's a challenge.

“What man?” Izaya asks, knowing full well what she means. She scoffs at him, and he grins at her. “You'll have to be more specific.”

“That one. The one you're obsessed with. Heiwajima. He's been coming by here every month around this time, skulking and making rude comments. This will be the seventh month, right?”

“Observant, aren't you?” Izaya asks, turning back to his typing. “I can't predict what Shizu-chan does, you know that. He does what he wants.”

“Yeah, but there's a pattern now. People like him don't normally have patterns, do they?” Namie tilts her head at him, something other women might do to seem cute. With Namie, it's always a disarming tactic, something she does to seem smaller when she's actually a power player. Izaya is used to her by now, even without reading her mind.

“That's part of what makes him so unpredictable. He's random until he isn't, and then he breaks his pattern when you least expect.” Izaya waves her away. “Ask what you want to ask, and stop with the games. We're both busy people.”

“You've got something on him, right? You're blackmailing him? It has to be something like that. He wants you dead even more than I do, and that's saying a lot. There's no way he'd suffer in your company more than he had to.”

“Whatever I do or don't have on Shizu-chan is between him and me. That makes it none of your business, Namie-chan! Unfortunate for you, but true all the same.”

“Are you guys fucking or something?” she asks, and she shrugs at the look Izaya gives her. “What? There's not much else you'd keep secret. If he gave you something actually juicy, you'd be holding it over his head much worse than this. Unless you had something to lose too, you wouldn't care what happened to him.”

“You are the definition of an 'over-thinker',” Izaya informs her. “Sometimes things are what they are, and nothing more.” Almost on cue, a thundering knock raps at the door, and Izaya motions for Namie to get it. “Who knows who that could be! Look professional, would you? We're running a business, here.”

“Yeah, I'm so curious who it is,” Namie says sarcastically, wrenching the door open to reveal a grumpy-looking Shizuo. He doesn't bother greeting her, just steps around her as he stomps into Izaya's apartment.

“Shizu-chan, what a surprise!” Izaya calls. “Terrible to see you, as always.”

“Fuck off and die, flea,” Shizuo says, heading straight for Izaya's fridge. Namie watches him for a moment, and then she turns back to Izaya.

“Shall I leave you to your fornication?” she asks.

“Oh, I don't know,” Izaya muses. “You're pretty, Namie-chan, when I don't have to look at your face. Maybe you could join us for the evening.”

“I'd rather be eaten alive, thanks.”

“More like you have plans already to stalk that brother of yours. Don't bother; he's having a date night at with Mika-chan at your favorite Italian place! He made reservations yesterday.” Izaya tilts forward, smirking at her as her face reddens with rage. “Run along, won't you? Who knows what they might do for dessert?”

Rather than retort, she picks up a folder from Izaya's desk and throws it as hard as she can. The papers fly out, flowing through the air like confetti, and she slams the door behind her hard enough to make even Shizuo flinch.

“Fuck. What's her problem?” Shizuo asks.

“Lots of things. She has more problems than most,” Izaya says, going back to his typing. He makes a mental note of the fact that Shizuo went straight for the pork tenderloin Namie prepared the day before, and then he looks up at his expected guest. “How's the bloodlust?”

“Same as it always is. Too fucking much,” Shizuo replies, already chomping away on cold leftovers. He never bothers with reheating them, anymore.

“And yet, you haven't bitten anyone. It seems you either have more self-control than I ever would've guessed, or you're exaggerating your symptoms.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shizuo says, and he flops onto Izaya's couch, giving Izaya a scrutinizing stare. “Does your secretary not know you're a witch?”

“Of course she doesn't,” Izaya replies. “Why would she?”

“She practically lives here.”

“She works here, Shizu-chan. This is an office, first and foremost.”

“Funny. I thought it was your apartment.” Shizuo takes another bite of food, his cheeks bulging almost comically with the amount he's eating all at once. When he speaks again, it's with his mouth full. “Even your place is a front. No one knows anything about you, huh?”

Izaya gives him a withering stare, grimacing at the grotesque way Shizuo eats.

“You're awfully conversational today. Why the sudden interest in my life? Usually you just barge in here, eat my food, and sit in silence until you're the true monster you've always been.”

“I guess I'm just curious about the way you do shit. Shinra told me all about how rare it is, what you are. He said you're probably keeping my secret so I'll keep yours,” Shizuo says. He finishes the last of the container of pork tenderloin, and then he goes back to the fridge.

“By all means, tell everyone what you know about me. The people who don't immediately run screaming from you will hardly care. I've been called terrible things, and for good reason. Calling me a witch in public will hardly matter.” Izaya turns back to his screen.

“Got no reason to tell anyone about you. I don't give a shit what you are.”

“Wonderful.”

There's silence for a bit, the sound of Shizuo chewing, of Izaya's fingers clacking against the keyboard. Izaya spares a glance up at Shizuo, who seems to be thinking about something, his brows furrowed. Curious in spite of himself, Izaya can't help but dip into Shizuo's mind. He snorts, and it draws Shizuo's attention.

“If you wanted to go to Shinra's place for this, you should have,” Izaya says. Shizuo snarls at him.

“Don't fucking read my mind.”

“Then stop thinking so loudly.”

“You said you didn't read minds often!”

“And you said that was a lie.”

Shizuo growls, his mind going to static as he considers throwing Izaya's entire counter out the window. Truth be told, Izaya wasn't lying when he said he doesn't try to read minds very often. It would be helpful for him in his line of work, but he was always more interested in doing the work himself. It was more fun, more challenging, easier to convince himself he didn't need his magic to be as powerful as he was.

“I hate you,” Shizuo hisses. It's the truth, Izaya can sense. Shizuo hates everything about this, being here, relying on Izaya, speaking to Izaya, smelling Izaya's scent all around him. Like this, Shizuo's mind is so loud and consumed with rage that Izaya pulls back, unwilling to listen to all that incessant noise and clatter.

“So go to Shinra's, then.”

Shizuo doesn't respond, but he doesn't need to. Izaya doesn't even need to read the beast's mind to know what he's thinking. Shizuo doesn't want to be seen that way by anyone he actually cares about. Izaya doesn't count in Shizuo's simple mind.

Of course it would be something like that.

Izaya pushes it from his mind. He's always loved seeing the worst aspects of other people, seeing them at their lowest, their breaking points, and choosing to love them anyway. Part of what makes Izaya able to love mankind as a whole is being there when they break, observing them as they either pick up the pieces or destroy others as they have been destroyed. It doesn't matter how it happens, whether Izaya has to cause it himself, or not. Their choices are their own.

Even in Shizuo's case, he's choosing to come here, to rely on Izaya, to trust in Izaya to help him remain himself.

“What are you smiling about over there?” Shizuo barks, snapping Izaya from his reverie.

“Oh, nothing,” Izaya lilts.

Creepy fucker. Shizuo thinks it, so clearly it seems almost direct, as if he wanted Izaya to hear it. Knowing him, it's more than likely. Shizuo doesn't censor his thoughts or his words, after all, and he's never been afraid to tell Izaya what he really thinks.

Seemingly content with the amount he ate, Shizuo sits back on the couch, his legs bouncing in nervous anticipation. He's always filled with anxiety on nights of the full moon, and Izaya can't exactly blame him. Even if Shizuo has a higher pain tolerance than most, the transformation is still incredibly painful, and Shizuo worries about keeping his sanity more than anything else. He's terrified of hurting someone, anyone, even Izaya, and he finds comfort in the fact that Izaya would never let him get close enough to actually hurt him.

Sometimes Shizuo is so human it's sickening.

***

The first time Izaya was consciously aware he was dealing with a dangerous, inhuman creature, he was in middle school.

Tsukumoya Shinichi found Izaya first, of course, an incredibly tame bloodsucker, but an irritating one all the same. He was Izaya's first official client that wasn't a desperate spirit, and he also had the annoying habit of popping up out of nowhere, eager to poke and prod at Izaya like a test subject, much like Shinra, but much, much more adept at getting under Izaya's skin. Izaya was just beginning in his potion-making back then, and Tsukumoya was enthusiastic about needing to feed less. A fellow lover of humans, it had been a long time since Tsukumoya had taken a life. He knew the right amount to drink, but he also had the habit of getting lost in his work, forgetting to feed, and always risked taking too much from the first victim after a period of accidental starvation.

“That's where you'll come in. You could have an entire market of potions for those like me, those that don't want to hurt anyone in the world of the living,” Tsukumoya explained. He had popped up out of nowhere again, met Izaya on his walk home. The sun was freshly set, and Izaya was walking home from Shinra's, enjoying the rare break of caring for the toddlers since his parents were home.

“Isn't making a potion as simple as reading a recipe?” Izaya asked, already irritated by the vampire's presence. “Couldn't you do it yourself?”

“I could,” Tsukumoya said, “but it would only be a drink at that point. I'm not a witch. There would be no magic in it.”

“How fortunate for me,” Izaya said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Tsukumoya merely laughed at him, as he always did. The vampire seemed to view Izaya as a trinket of sorts, the kind of thing one might pick up on a whim, and then keep for a long time.

“Just think about it, would you? There aren't many options in this world, or the next. Witches are few and far between, as you're aware,” Tsukumoya said. “It's been centuries since I met one as powerful as you.”

“So you've said before,” Izaya replied.

They walked in silence for a while, Tsukumoya still grinning like he was thoroughly enjoying himself, and Izaya with a small frown on his face, irritated by the fact that between Tsukumoya, Shinra, and the twins, he was always having someone trail after him. They were passing by an alleyway when Izaya's body screamed at him to RUN and NOW. He felt the pinpricks of danger along his skin, but he was rooted to the spot, too curious for his own good.

“Stay back,” Tsukumoya said, his voice calm, but tight. “That one's pretty strong.”

“What is it?” Izaya asked, straining to see through the darkness of the alley. He could see a figure, huge and looming, but he couldn't make out any details. As if in answer, a ferocious growl sounded, and Izaya was bombarded with the ugliest thoughts he ever heard in his life.

Kill, kill, blood, bite, KILL, KILL, KILL—

Izaya pulled back with disgust, and his sudden movement seemed to trigger the creature, who lunged forward. Tsukumoya yanked Izaya out of the way, too fast for Izaya to truly follow, and then Izaya got a full look at what was after him.

The creature was massive, covered in patches of thick, course fur. It had glowing eyes filled with madness, singularly focused on Izaya, the same thoughts running through its head. Teeth, sharp, jagged teeth, were in the creature's gaping maw, too large to truly fit.

“Werewolf,” Izaya said aloud, as fascinated as he was on edge.

“Yeah,” Tsukumoya answered, “and we interrupted his meal.”

Only then did Izaya notice the blood all over the creature, the viscera under its claws and in between its teeth. He inhaled sharply, and the creature lunged again. It seemed to be all Tsukumoya could do to dodge it.

“You shouldn't be out walking on nights of the full moon!” Tsukumoya said through clenched teeth, throwing Izaya over his shoulder as he ran up the side of the building, the wolf hot on his heels. “Haven't you read enough to know what's out here by now?”

Izaya had. He knew what was out here, knew the risk, but he didn't care enough to stay safe indoors. He couldn't bring himself to regret his decision, not when he could see firsthand what a werewolf could truly do. He propped himself on his elbows to watch the werewolf from over Tsukumoya's shoulder, and his stomach felt like it was dropping to his feet when the vampire detached from the building, free-falling in a careful spiral towards the ground.

The wolf fell after them, still only thinking the same thoughts as before, and Izaya didn't know what Tsukumoya's plan was, didn't wait to find out. He gripped his hand, and the wolf seized, a confused yelp leaving it as its arms and legs snapped to its sides, sending its body careening into a crumpled heap on the hard concrete. Tsukumoya wasn't breathing heavily, not the way he should've been after such physicality, but Izaya reminded himself that for as human as Tsukumoya seemed, he wasn't, and he had no need to breathe. He set Izaya down on the ground and moved towards the still snarling wolf, who snapped at them repeatedly, still trying in vain to bite them.

“Was he one who could've used a potion?” Izaya asked, watching in awe as he approached behind Tsukumoya. He felt fear, certainly, but not nearly enough to leave.

“No,” Tsukumoya said, “this one enjoys the hunt.” With that, he lifted his foot, bringing it down hard on the wolf's head. Bits of skull and brain-matter splattered onto the ground and walls as the wolf's growls ceased, and slowly, the body left behind became that of a man's. Izaya stared at the grisly scene, finding it strange that the first tangible thought he had was that he wished Shinra could be here to see this.

“Sorry,” Tsukumoya said, turning to Izaya. “He would've just killed someone else next month. It was better this way.”

“Yeah,” Izaya said, his body still thrumming with adrenaline. “I've never used my power like that on anything living before.” He didn't really even mean to. He didn't realize it was happening until he was doing it. Tsukumoya only laughed, of course.

“Oh, Izaya, that's only the beginning of what you could do.”

***

Hours later, and Shizuo is back to his usual pacing, his looming form weaving between the coffee table and the TV. Izaya is staring at his computer screen, trying to keep up with the chatroom conversation, but it's nothing he's interested in, and his attention keeps drifting elsewhere, his vision blurring as he loses himself to his thoughts.

He was up the last few days with another assignment. Shiki has been keeping him busy lately, definitely trying to occupy as much of Izaya's time as possible. Shiki really enjoys his petty tormenting, and Izaya has to admit he's been stepping out of line these past few months. He hasn't admitted to anything, of course, but he doesn't have to.

—like shit.

Shizuo's thoughts cut through Izaya's. Shizuo is glancing at him as he paces, his mind the usual maze of self-loathing, bloodlust, and emotional static, but it's clear he's thinking of Izaya, too, specifically that Izaya doesn't look well. Shizuo is thinking of the last time he saw Izaya in the middle of the city, and how he resembled a caged animal, manic, listless, poised to strike. Izaya's jaw tightens, and he fights to keep his expression neutral as he stands and moves to the kitchen, bypassing Shizuo.

Shizuo's thoughts continue to carry as Izaya makes tea. The monster is thinking of how small Izaya is, like this, with Shizuo's form so massive in comparison, but also all the time. Shizuo has always thought of Izaya as flea-sized, a beanpole, something annoying to be flicked away, but somehow Izaya always returns. Shizuo thinks Izaya is completely out of his mind, would have to be in order to keep coming back to annoy him.

But there's a comfort in that, isn't there? Izaya thinks, and Shizuo goes completely stiff, his body turning slowly to face Izaya.

Get the fuck out of my head.

“It's not my fault your thoughts are so loud. You're practically screaming them at me.” Izaya finishes with his tea, and makes his way back to his desk. “Besides, is it really even considered eavesdropping if you're thinking of me?”

Yes. Shizuo's ears are pulled back, his teeth bared. You've invaded enough of my life, you fucking parasite. Let me think in peace.

“Monsters don't deserve any peace,” Izaya mutters, but he grants Shizuo's request, and leaves his mind. At least, Izaya tries to. It's strange. He's never encountered this before. Izaya doesn't read minds often, at least on purpose, but most people are always subconsciously guarding themselves, even without being aware of Izaya's abilities. With Shizuo, he's both protecting and projecting his thoughts to the point that he's pulling Izaya in more than he's pushing him away. If Izaya had to guess, he'd say it's because Shizuo has never had to guard himself. For all of Shizuo's confounding nature, he's incredibly simplistic and straightforward, and his close proximity to Izaya is only making his thoughts even louder. Izaya groans and pinches the bridge of his nose.

What's wrong with you? Shizuo sends, and Izaya blinks up at him when he realizes Shizuo is now sending his thoughts freely and directly.

You're making my head hurt. Izaya thinks back. Shizuo growls a bit.

Good. You deserve it. Fuck you.

Izaya snorts and sips at his tea. This is new for them. In all the time Shizuo has spent here in his transformed state, he's never really conversed with Izaya before. The conversation isn't exactly thrilling, but it's an improvement over Shizuo's usual brooding pity party.

Izaya turns off his computer, deciding he's done playing with his humans tonight. He carries his tea with him as he pads over to the couch, passing by Shizuo again, who glowers at him the entire time. Izaya sits down on the couch and turns the TV on, flicking through some different channels before he decides on a cartoon he likes.

Shizuo isn't looking at the screen, but his ears are twitching towards the sound of whimsical music. Izaya wonders if Shizuo deprives himself of all creature comforts on nights of the full moon because he's afraid of this being his new normal, afraid of accepting this is his life now. It's laughable, and Izaya does laugh, can't stop himself. Shizuo's head whips towards him, dark eyes narrowed suspiciously, still incredibly human even in that distorted, monstrous face of his.

“Don't look at me like that. I'm only watching TV,” Izaya says, and he sips at his tea. Shizuo goes back to his pacing, his ears pulled back. He's pissed, as usual, and he wants to ask questions, but he knows Izaya won't answer them. Curiously, Izaya delves a little deeper into Shizuo's mind, wondering what it is exactly that Shizuo wants to know.

Out of my head. Shizuo sends angrily. Izaya pouts and obeys, wondering how Shizuo even sensed him eavesdropping.

You're no fun at all, Shizu-chan.

***

The first thing Izaya really notices when he stops floating along is that he doesn't recognize where he is. It's a normal-looking house, filled with pictures on the walls, and it takes a few moments for Izaya's eyes to focus on them long enough to make sense of the faces. Shizuo's picture is there, and he's smiling, flexing for the camera as Kasuka stands stiffly at his side. They're both young, and like this, with Shizuo's dark hair, it's incredibly easy to see the similarities between them. From a distance, they could be mistaken for the same person.

“Why are you here?” A voice asks from behind Izaya. He turns to face Shizuo, a spitting image of the child in the photograph. He's maybe ten years old, if Izaya had to guess. He's looking at Izaya like he knows who Izaya is, despite the drastic difference in their ages. “Get out.”

“I'm not sure why I'm here,” Izaya says, his hands going in his pockets. “Is there something you wanted to show me?”

“Fuck, no. I want you to get out.” Shizuo's fists are bloody, and his body is covered in tiny scrapes, his clothes filthy. He's been fighting. Izaya can't help but wonder when the fights started, how young Shizuo was the first time he was jumped.

“Am I dreaming?” Izaya asks aloud. He doesn't remember closing his eyes, but it's possible he passed out. He hasn't slept, and he hasn't eaten. He thinks of Shizuo in werewolf form, pacing around and refusing the comforts he desires and he scoffs.

“How the fuck should I know?” Shizuo's fingers twitch, and he's glancing nervously at the stairs. His parents are up there, Izaya realizes, and Shizuo is afraid of them for some reason. No, that's not it. He's not scared of them. He's scared of them being scared of him.

“Were you fighting? You're so young here,” Izaya says. The Shizuo he met was already broad-shouldered and blond, carrying a heavy reputation with that strength of his. This Shizuo is nervous, jittery, unsure of himself.

“You're in my head,” Shizuo accuses, and then he jolts as a door upstairs opens. “Why are you always in my head?”

“I don't know,” Izaya says honestly. “I'm beginning to think you want me to be here.”

A woman begins walking downstairs. She's strikingly pretty, her face similar to Shizuo's and Kasuka's, her dark eyes large and kind. She moves to Shizuo's side, putting her arms around him. She doesn't acknowledge Izaya.

“You didn't mean to,” she says, petting through Shizuo's hair. “You were trying to help.”

“I still hurt her,” Shizuo says, leaning into her and closing his eyes. He seems to have forgotten about Izaya. “I couldn't stop myself.”

“Kasuka said you were trying to do the right thing. You were only trying to scare the bad men away. You're a good, sweet boy, Shizuo.”

“Where's dad?” Shizuo asks, and his mother pulls away a little, giving him a false, gentle smile.

“On the phone with the police. Don't worry, they just want a report of what happened.”

“I already told them what happened.”

“Yes, but they want to hear it from an adult.”

Izaya looks from the scene to the doorway, which is shrouded in darkness. He makes his way over to it, stepping through, and he finds himself outside the wreckage of a convenience store, multiple people buried in the rubble. Shizuo is there, breathing heavily, Kasuka at his side.

“Was this your first time hurting an innocent person?” Izaya asks, and Shizuo snarls at him, tears in his eyes.

“Go away.”

“I can't,” Izaya says, and he walks towards the woman's unconscious body. “You throw your little tantrums all the time. Who knows how many people you've injured?”

“I don't mean to!” Shizuo shouts. Kasuka isn't paying either of them any attention, is only looking towards the distance where a cacophony of sirens are moving closer to them. “You hurt people more than me. You ruin lives all the fucking time, you like doing it. You're the real monster here and you know it!”

Izaya ignores him and looks around, deciding to explore all he can while he's here. Shizuo follows after him, face still contorted in rage.

“How would you fucking like it, huh, if we walked around your memories, all the things you don't want people to see out in the open? All the things you're scared of, ashamed of? How would you like it, flea?!”

Izaya scoffs, turns to tell him to shut up, but everything shifts around them, and they're suddenly in Izaya's childhood home, the twins both screaming in their cribs as a young Izaya curls in the corner, sobbing as the lights flicker around them and doors open and slam repeatedly. Shizuo's expression changes as he looks from Izaya's younger, terrified self, to the real Izaya in front of him.

“Flea?” Shizuo is older, suddenly, and he looks so fucking concerned that it makes Izaya's teeth click together.

“OUT!” Izaya roars, and the scene dissolves around them. He and Shizuo both wake with a start, still in Izaya's living room, Izaya on the couch, Shizuo curled up in the floor, human again, sunlight streaming through the windows.

“Wha— What was that?” Shizuo asks as he sits up, his voice unsteady. “Were you in my past? Was I in yours?”

“Get the fuck out,” Izaya hisses, scrambling to get off the couch and stand over Shizuo. “You had no right, no right.”

“I didn't do anything! You're the one with—magic. What did you do, huh?!”

“I don't fucking know!” Izaya snaps, and then he turns on his heel, marching towards the door. He steps into his shoes, throws his coat on. If Shizuo won't leave, then he will. He refuses to stay here with Shizuo looking at him like this, with pity clear in his gaze. The door slams behind him as he hurries out of the building, his skin prickling and his hands shaking more and more with every step he takes away from Shizuo.

#with teeth fic #shizaya #Izaya Orihara #Shizuo Heiwajima #werewolf shizuo #witchy izaya

[beewolfwrites]

An Iron Box - Perfect Portrait

On the off-chance anyone’s still reading this series, I hope you enjoy this update. 

It may be shorter, but it’s a scene between Chishiya and MC/Reader that was in my mind but I never put it into the original fic :) 

You can also find it here on AO3.

If you haven’t read the original, you can find it either pinned to my Tumblr or on AO3 here. 

Thanks so much for reading. It means the world <3

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

People were so predictable. Even in a world where you can’t trust anyone, they still look for someone to connect with.

It seemed that saving (name) from that awkward situation at the bar did the trick, as afterwards, she clung to Kuina’s side – and by extension, my own. However, there was a slyness in her eyes whenever she looked at me. A calculating curiosity that revealed her distrust for me.

And yet, it didn’t keep her from seeking me out.  

One morning, several days later, I headed downstairs earlier than usual, hoping to enjoy the rare quiet as I ate breakfast.

While the bread from supermarkets was inedible, flour and yeast were perfectly intact, and with the Beach’s over-abundance of electricity, making bread was a favourite pastime for the former-chefs and bakers living here. And so, grabbing two slices of toast from the kitchen, I took a seat at a table in the far corner of what would have been the hotel’s restaurant.

Soon enough, people would filter down from their rooms and the usual circus would begin. But for now, it was silent. Peaceful. I lifted a piece of toast.

‘一緒に朝ご飯食をべないか.’ Do you want to eat breakfast together?

Typical.

I put the toast down. ‘You’re leaving too big a gap between words. It sounds unnatural.’

Something brushed against my hood as she hovered behind my chair. ‘Teach me to sound natural then.’

‘No.’

‘どうして.’ How come?

Perhaps she would leave soon. If I waited until she disappeared, I might actually be able to enjoy my breakfast in peace.

It’ll be cold by then.

Weighing up the options, I gave in and took a bite of my toast. ‘Because you’ll only learn by speaking it more,’ I said, swallowing. ‘And also because I don’t want to. You should practise on Kuina instead.’

She circled around the table, holding a small bowl of dried fruit in one hand. There was a screech as she pulled out the chair opposite and sat down. I turned away, looking out of the window instead, but in the corner of my eye I could see her watching me, fingers playing with the bowl of fruit. She was still wearing my hoodie.

‘Kuina doesn’t speak English as well as you do.’ She huffed. ‘And if I make a mistake, she doesn’t tell me what’s wrong. I think it’s a Japanese thing. Everyone here is so polite, and nobody wants to correct you if you have bad grammar.’ She paused. ‘But you will.’

So I’m rude enough to correct her, hm?

She wasn’t wrong. But this still wasn’t enough of a reason to make me want to waste my time teaching her a language that she would pick up eventually.

‘You do have terrible grammar,’ I said. ‘You sound like a textbook.’

When she shifted her chair closer, I instinctively leaned away. ‘I know. I probably have a foreigner’s accent too. But I need you to tell me how I can get better.’

She did have an accent, strong yet not unpleasant. And surprisingly, I didn’t mind it. I knew I had an accent whenever I spoke English, but it was only normal. As for not sounding like a cardboard character in a language textbook? Well... she was clever enough to figure it out by herself.

Picking up my second piece of toast, I began to take a bite when a set of fingers wrapped around my forearm.  

And there it was again.

That warmth

It was just like in the pharmacy when her knee had touched mine. That same warmth seeped into my skin, humming under the surface. A shiver ran through my body, and I yanked my wrist away, severing all contact.

For the first time this morning, I looked at her fully, seeing the briefest flicker of astonishment in her expression before it relaxed into idle curiosity. If she was surprised by my reaction, she didn’t comment on it.

Instead, she shifted in her seat, chewing uncomfortably on her dried fruit. ‘By the way, you never told me how you learned English? Did you study abroad?’

The question took me back a few years, to those nights spent in my bedroom as a child, pouring over language textbooks. The one-sided conversations with myself, the books I had spent hours picking apart and translating until the early hours of the morning.  

‘I was bored as a child, so I taught myself a language.’

Her eyes widened. ‘When you say you were a child...’

‘I was seven when I started learning.’

I was seven when I gave the housekeeper some of my pocket money and asked her to buy me an English language dictionary. And even when she asked my father if it was alright, he didn’t once turn to look.

(Name) shook her head in disbelief, and muttered under her breath, ‘that’s insane.’

By now, we were no longer alone. People were filtering in regularly, filling the tables as they chatted with friends about their recent games. I put my headphones in, hoping that she would take a hint and find someone else to have breakfast with. Only, she remained seated, munching on a dried apricot.

‘Perhaps,’ I said, ‘but if a seven-year-old can do better than you, maybe I made a mistake in bringing you here.’

She pulled a face and boldly took one of my headphones out. ‘Maybe you should convince Hatter to let me leave.’

I glanced down at my earbud twirled between her fingers, before meeting that wide-eyed stare. ‘Maybe I don’t want to.’

Maybe you’re too valuable to let go.

There was a moment of quiet where neither of us looked away. She was close enough that I could see the variation of colours in her eyes, and the slight hint of pink washing over her cheeks. So that’s what she was thinking of. How very amusing.

If she had feelings for me, it would certainly be easier to convince her to go into the royal suite. But then again, she would cling to me in that annoying way.

And I don’t have the patience for that.

Breaking eye contact, I retrieved my headphone from her fingers. ‘Don’t get the wrong idea. You’re useful to have here at the Beach. It would be a shame to let you go.’

‘I’d be more useful if you helped me learn Japanese.’

‘No.’

At this, she turned away. For a long moment, neither of us spoke and I was just starting to enjoy the silence when she mumbled, ‘has it occurred to you that you’re the only one I can actually talk to?’

Ch... that’s a lie.

She had Kuina. The two of them got along rather nicely, and (name) was still blissfully unaware that none of it was real.  

Ignoring her comment, I left to take my plate back to the kitchen, but when I re-entered the restaurant area, I noticed that every table was full. That was, except ours. Elbow on the tablecloth, (name’s) hand rested over her mouth, the smallest hint of a frown tugging at the corners. She was staring vacantly at the tiny bowl of half-eaten dried fruit.

‘Has it occurred to you that you’re the only one I can actually talk to?’

Understanding dawned on me. She stuck out like a sore thumb, alone on a table for four.

The other Beach members were avoiding her, probably because they knew only high school English and assumed she wouldn’t be able to speak Japanese. Even when talking to Kuina, I had seen her mixing up the two languages, sometimes struggling to understand small miscommunications.

Her expression reminded me of the Mona Lisa, those trips to the Louvre where I was made to tag along on my parents’ business trips, only to be left in the hands of his uninterested assistant. (Name) wasn’t smiling, but there was something hiding beneath the slight pull of her lips that echoed DaVinci’s painting. It was something uniquely human that I couldn’t seem to read.

It was enigmatic.

But it was also a perfect portrait of isolation. Everyone wants someone to understand them, to be seen for who they really are. And she was no exception.

The thought pulled at me, persistent, but I pushed it well away. If she was isolated, it would come in handy later on. So long as Kuina and I were the only people she could comfortably talk to, she would be more easily swayed into relying on us.

And when I do send her into the Royal Suite, she’ll have no reason not to trust me.

With that thought, I left her there alone in the hotel restaurant.

Later that night, it wasn’t until the clock ticked into the early hours of the morning that the hotel finally fell into a slumber. And it was then that I slipped out into the empty hallways.

The meeting room was lit only by the faint yellow glow of the patio’s outdoor lights. It wasn’t much against the darkness of an empty Tokyo, but it was enough to illuminate the pinboard propped up against the far wall. Names and numbers had been tacked on, all split into groups of four or five in preparation for tomorrow’s games.

My eyes scanned over the board, narrowing down on the one name that stood out in katakana, Niragi’s kanji right beside it.

But it was only when I switched Niragi’s name with my own, that her enigmatic frown appeared behind my eyes once more. That same portrait of isolation that haunted the back of my mind.  

#alice in borderland #aib #imawa no kuni no arisu #chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x oc #chishiya x reader #chishiya alice in borderland

[jasontoddiefor]

MTTT AU chapter 8: A Place - Room of a Thousand Fountains

Read on AO3

Anakin Skywalker had always been an energetic and vibrant child. He drew your attention whenever he was in the room, even when he was holding himself back. It was one of the reasons Plo had agreed so readily to send little Ahsoka Tano to him. His opinion didn’t count for much, but he was still her Finder and had spent quite a lot of time with her since she had been brought to the temple. She had the same kind of spirit as her Master, and with Ahsoka around, Anakin wouldn’t be able to let his own fire burn as much, burn out, or risk hurting her.

Plo was sure that Anakin would keep her safe, be a light that would guide her.

Even now, Anakin was almost painfully bright in the Force, but he was also hurting to a degree Plo had encountered not once before. Shadows and doubts were clinging to him, stifling him. Only ashes remained of the bonfire and, beneath that thick dead remnant, new saplings grew only slowly.

The pain they had felt in the temple after Skywalker’s arrival was had been intolerable even in its contained form. It should be no surprise that Anakin was still in such a bad condition, yet Plo was taken aback when he came face to face with him.

“Anakin,” he greeted the young man. Plo was the first Council member to arrive at their chosen meeting place, had he caught Ahsoka just the day before and listened to her worries. He had hurried to catch the young Knight on his own, gain insight into how he acted when he wasn’t questioned by the whole Council.

“Master Plo,” Anakin said and inclined his head towards him.

He moved to stand up, but Plo raised his hands to stop him. The action obviously caused him further pain and Plo was not going to add another weight to the many burdens the boy was already carrying.

“I will join you on the ground, Anakin,” Plo said and sat down right next to Anakin.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had simply taken a few moments to rest in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. He knew it certainly hadn’t been since the war had broken out. Plo decided to follow Anakin’s example and took off his shoes. Feeling the grass beneath his feet was soothing; did it remind him of more peaceful times. In the distance, he could hear some younglings playing, and the water of one of the many rivers and waterfalls in these halls rush downwards.

This was certainly a calmer and a kinder place to meet than the Council chambers. Plo could understand why Anakin had asked to assemble here instead of the Council room.

Not that Anakin had asked.

Obi-Wan had directed the Council to this place, the very heart of their temple and the place the furthest away from the busy world outside.

If the report Anakin was to deliver was really as earth-shattering as Obi-Wan words had alluded to, it was probably for the best.

He still wasn’t ready to believe the bits of information Obi-Wan had let slip. Perhaps Plo was clinging to the fickle hope that Anakin’s revelations would clear them up, reveal that they hadn’t allowed a Sith Lord to gain control of the entire Republic.

Plo knew that Obi-Wan had no reason to lie, but hope always died last.

Glancing towards his left, Plo found Obi-Wan was standing in some distance, typing away on his datapad. Plo wasn’t fooled for even a second. He had raised more than one Padawan and he knew that Obi-Wan’s attention was entirely on his student.

It was as adorable as it was reassuring, even if the price for their closeness was high. Over a decade ago, the Council hadn’t been quite sure what they thought Obi-Wan and Anakin would become. When they had let the young Knight take on the boy, it had been accompanied by many worries over their mental health, but the two of them had surprised everyone positively. They had grown up to bring out the best in each other, so much that Kenobi-and-Skywalker was a set expression in everyone’s mouth.

Even now, when both were hurting so obviously, they were holding onto one another.

“Ahsoka has learned well from you,” Plo said. He thought it would be for the best if he tried to ease Anakin into a conversation. Ahsoka seemed like a safe topic to start with, especially given how devoted she was to her Master. Seldom had Plo seen a Master and Padawan pair become attuned to each other so quickly.

Then again, most of the training bonds weren’t forged during wartime.

“She is strong and capable,” Anakin replied, avoiding Plo’s gaze and keeping his own fixed on something in the distance. “I don’t think I taught her anything she couldn’t have figured out on her own.”

“Little ‘Soka was always a smart one, if a bit of a wild card,” Plo agreed.

It was the reason Plo hadn’t picked her to be his Padawan though he currently didn’t have one. Ahsoka deserved a Master who was more similar to her. With Kenobi keeping oversight of them both, she and Anakin had seemed like a good fit.

“She deserves better.”

Anakin sounded so similar to the Obi-Wan from ten years ago that Plo wished he could let the lost young man from back then meet this one now, show them both how far they could go despite insecurities.

“Every Padawan does. A teacher can never be good enough. This is why we have to try.”

“But I wasn’t good enough,” Anakin stated matter-of-factly. “She-“He shut up immediately, mouth pressed in a thin line, as if only now noticing what secrets were escaping him. The Force around them shifted, cradling Anakin like a child and making it seem like he wasn’t quite there, but more a blurry image.

Plo debated pushing, learning what he wanted to keep quiet about, what had happened to little ‘Soka in that vision of his. He couldn’t imagine, didn’t want to imagine anything happening to the sweet girl who had clung to his robes with wide eyes and excitedly babbled to him in the language of her people.

“Ahsoka is very worried about you,” Plo decided to say instead, take their conversation in a different direction. “Apparently, she is quite vexed that you won’t spar with her anymore.”

If Skywalker had tried to fade into the background before, now he was positively trying to disappear in it entirely. What happened that had made him fear every possible topic Plo could bring up? The silence between them was almost oppressive, heavy on their shoulders. Plo decided to stay silent, give Anakin time to come out of his shell again. He didn’t know who much time passed until the heavy feeling lifted and he began to speak.

“I- I forgot how beautiful it is in here.” Anakin curled his toes and spread his fingers so that the grass could get in between them. “I didn’t visit this place in years. I don’t know if it was still standing.”

“That is quite a shame,” Plo commented. “We could take another look around if you feel capable of walking.”

Anakin looked up from the ground, eyeing Plo with confusion and suspicion.

“The others won’t be here for a while,” Plo elaborated. “It would be unwise to let the time go to waste, wouldn’t it? I was told that one of the youngling clans remodeled one of the gardens. I think we have the time to look at it and pass our congratulations on to them.”

Anakin looked torn between desire and fear. Like a child, he looked back to Obi-Wan, who, indeed as Plo had predicted, had been paying close attention to the conversation and was now staring at them. When Obi-Wan nodded, Anakin hesitantly bit his lip. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I wouldn’t offer it otherwise, Anakin.” Plo rose to his feet and held out his hand.

Tellingly, Anakin took it with his flesh hand. He held onto it perhaps for a moment longer than necessary, but then he let go and buried his hands in the sleeves of his robe, hiding them and their trembling away.

“I believe the youngling garden is a level up. Is there any place you’d like to see on your way there?”

Anakin didn’t reply at first, then he turned to look towards the right. Plo had never been the most knowledgeable about the room, preferring to spend his time with mathematics and not plants, but Anakin knew exactly what laid there.

“The yellow gardens,” he finally replied. “I’d like to see the yellow gardens.”

Plo nodded and then, with Anakin by his side, still barefoot leaving their shoes behind, they walked into the direction of the garden. Plo kept his eyes closely on Anakin the entire time, observing his reaction to the Jedi passing them; they had agreed for a meeting here for a reason after all. There weren’t many people passing them, but they crossed paths with another once in a while, though they never noticed Anakin. Perhaps his idea of wrapping himself up in the Force indeed had merit. Plo wondered whether he had learned that during the war, folding himself so much into his surroundings that he was overlooked unless he wanted to be seen. It was definitely a clever trick.

When they reached the yellow gardens, Anakin ore or less walked past all the bushes and trees without paying them any mind, straight up until he reached the very end where yellow flowers grew in small bushes.

Anakin crouched down in front of them and so very carefully traced over the petals with his fingers.

“Are they your favorite?” Plo asked.

Anakin shook his head. “No, my favorite was- there is a flower I inherited from Qui-Gon. It should bloom in a few months. These flowers are from Naboo. I hate- dislike them.”

Anakin fell silent again, still not looking away from the delicate flowers.

“What do they mean?”

“Grief,” Anakin replied, “for a life lost too early.”

The way Anakin spoke about it, Plo could feel the Force around them start to weep. It wasn’t just grief for a life lost, but Anakin’s grief. It was thick and palpable, so thick in the air, you could almost choke on it. With Anakin’s back turned to him, Plo gently raised a hand to his throat, wondering if there was a malfunction in his mask. Calming himself, he gently reached out himself, running warm fingers over old wounds torn open again.

“I will fix it,” Anakin spoke up suddenly. “I promise you that. I won’t let it happen again. You will all be safe.”

You will all be alive.

Anakin didn’t have to say it, but Plo heard it anyway.

It was, at that moment, all the confirmation that he needed. The broken bits of Obi-Wan’s statement had all been true after all and the future, even if it was one just envisioned, had been darker than all periods of the past.

“We shall do the same,” Plo promised as Anakin stood up again.

As they walked back to the meeting point, Plo quietly tried to think of who was currently on Senate duty, and how quickly he could let them know that the Chancellor was to be considered a threat.

And how much longer they could refuse Palpatine’s inquiries to talking to Anakin.

#star wars #anakin skywalker #plo koon #obi wan kenobi #medical trauma time travel au #fanfic #the softest chapter yet i think

[night-fallz]

Jason Todd x Avengers Crossover

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Ao3 // Wattpad

previous II next

Unexpected (part 2)

Two days have passed since Clint was saved by Jason. And for some reason, he still can't get the vigilante out of his mind.

Natasha teased him about it but he knows that if she sees Jason in action, she would be intrigued as well.

The way he fought was mesmerizing. Every bullet that was shot was so precisely aimed that the wounds weren't deadly.

Sure it knocked them out, but they weren't gonna die.

That form of marksmanship was only earned through years of hard work. And Clint's worked with Bucky enough times to know that Jason somehow predicted the next move of the attackers, aiming at the non-lethal body parts.

He has a feeling that Bucky and Jason would make an incredible duo.

Which is why he needs them to meet.

Clint doesn't usually do this but the more he thought about the bucket-wearing vigilante, the higher his list of questions got.

He took out his phone, leaning against the couch as he searched for the man that saved him.

vigilante wearing red bucket

He scrolled through google trying to find a decent article on the guy.

After thirty whole minutes of barely finding information, Clint wanted to throw his phone across the room. So far, all he's figured out was that Jason's territory was in Gotham and that his vigilante name is 'Red Hood'.

Which was... creative in a way?

At least it wasn't 'Red Bucket' or 'Bucket Head' or anything like that. It was definitely better than 'Green Arrow'.

After another failed search, he decided to finally give up. There was nothing about Red Hood. All the articles were mainly about Batman, Nightwing, a restaurant place, and a Robin!

He groaned and put his face in his hands. He doesn't care about those overrated heroes, he wants to find out more about Red Hood.

The guy was so cool... he wonders why there were barely any pieces written about him. The few sentences that he's read about the vigilante almost always depicted him in a bad light.

Which was honestly unfair.

He stared at his phone, contemplating on whether or not he should ask Natasha.

On the positive side, he knows that the assassin would have information on Red Hood. Natasha has information on everyone.

But...

Clint didn't want Natasha to tease him even more! If she keeps up with the sarcastic comments then the other Avengers would be curious. And curious Avengers meant nosy people.

He felt himself shiver, really nosy people.

He swears that if he had a sister— older or younger, they would act exactly like how Natasha was acting right now.

He could practically imagine the smirk she was wearing on her face when she picked up.

"Hey, Clint." she casually greeted, "How are you?"

He refrained from gritting his teeth, "I'm doing good." he paused, eyes closing as he took a breath in, this hurt to admit. "I need your help."

"I know."

"What do you know about the Red Hood?"

"The Red Hood?" she hummed under her breath, "Let's see."

Clint heard her moving things around, then he could distinctly hear the noise of paper being flipped. "Do you just have documents of random vigilantes lying around your room?" he couldn't help but ask. "Is this an assassin thing?"

Does Bucky do this too?

"I'm getting you the information you need." she reminded, "How I keep track of the data I have is none of your business."

"Okay, okay." he surrendered, a smile making its way onto his face. "But why don't you just keep it on a computer? Wouldn't that make things easier for you?"

She ignored his question, "Red Hood is an excellent marksman," she stated. "He made his debut as a crime lord by showing a bunch of people a duffel bag filled with the heads of notorious criminals."

Clint let out a whistle, "That is an intense introduction. He's even better than I thought he would be."

"Yeah," Natasha agreed. "He's easily one of the most dangerous and capable vigilantes in Gotham. In a matter of months, he's managed to bring crime down Crime Alley by at least fifty percent. Something that Batman himself, couldn't do. His methods were vicious, but they worked. Extremely well. He's killed a lot of child molesters, human traffickers, and rapists."

Even though Natasha couldn't see him, he tilted his head to the side, biting the inside of his cheek. Clint could care less about what methods Jason used. If they worked, they worked. And it's not like those criminals didn't deserve it. It's just-

Killing takes a lot out of you. Especially when you're young. Clint would know.

He had no doubt in his head that Jason was an incredible fighter. Not to mention that he was also huge— in both height and muscle.

He can see why he has a majority of Gotham fooled.

But, for about a minute, after they won against the ninjas, Jason removed his helmet in order to get a breath of fresh air.

A mask might've been covering his eyes, but Clint's been in the vigilante business for years now. He remembers clear as day, just how young the vigilante looked under the sun.

When Clint first started, he was thankful that he had Natasha to talk to whenever things got hard. Whenever he felt guilty for taking someone's life. No matter how much they deserved it.

Hell, he's still thankful for Natasha now. Without her, Clint would probably be dead. His body found bleeding out in an abandoned area, a neat row of scars on his thighs and arms.

He hopes that Jason has a friend like Natasha. Someone who'd be there for him no matter what. Someone who'd remind him that he was worth it. That he was loved.

Cause if not, then there is no way that the kid is okay.

Natasha's sharp voice interrupted his thoughts, "That was a few years ago. As far as I know, he doesn't kill anymore. The farthest that Hood would go now would be to permanently cripple someone. And even then, he would only do that when the person did something unforgivable."

After a few seconds of silence, Clint opened his mouth. "Is that it?" he couldn't help but question.

"Nope," Natasha admitted. "But it's all I'm willing to tell you."

"Fine then," he smirked. "Keep your assassiny secrets. I got more than I expected anyways."

"What did you get yourself into, Clint? Why all the sudden interest in him? Why all the sudden interest in a vigilante in Gotham?"

He knows that Natasha was just looking out for him. She was worried. "Do you remember a few days ago when I was saved by this Jason guy?" he asked.

"Yeah? You've been talking about him nonstop. He saved your ass and you gave him your number." she paused before adding, "Your private one."

He nodded, "Yeah. Well, he's the Red Hood."

"You're kidding."

"Nope. I searched him up and he had the same costume and everything."

"And he actually said that his name was Jason?"

"Yep." he tried to casually say, "It's probably cause Jason's a popular name and stuff."

"Maybe." Natasha hesitantly agreed, "But anyway, since you gave him your number, I think you should know that I've always wanted to meet him so if he texts you soon..."

Her voice trailed off and Clint couldn't hold in his sigh, "Yeah, yeah. I'll arrange a meet-up or whatever."

Her voice automatically brightened, "Actually?"

The corner of his mouth lifted, "Sure. But I wanted to introduce him to Bucky first."

Natasha made a shocked sound of betrayal, "Wha- but Clint!" she whined, "I'm the one who's asking. Not him."

"I know."

It took everything in him to stop the laugh from escaping his mouth.

Complaints about how unfair Clint was being made their way onto his ears and he relished each and every one of them. It wasn't often that he had something Natasha wanted.

Revenge was sweet.

After a few minutes, he let out an incredibly fake gasp. "Sorry, Natasha. I gotta go. I have a kitchen emergency."

"What the fuck, Clint." she demanded, "You don't even know how to cook. Remember the omelet incident? What emerg-"

He hung up.

Clint's definitely going to regret ending the call later. He knows it.

But right now, he could care less.

He has something Natasha wants, so she won't murder him.

... hopefully.

He hopes that he runs into the vigilante soon. Jason was cool and pretty fun to talk to. Clint definitely won't mind fighting at Red Hood's side once more.

They worked really well together.

While they were fighting, he knew that Jason was gonna have his back. He knew that Jason wasn't gonna let him get hurt. It was weird, considering that was the first encounter he's ever had with him.

He doesn't know when Jason is gonna decide to use his number, but he hopes that it'll be soon.

He has questions. And whenever Jason was ready, Clint hopes that he can answer.

Starting with the one that's been clouding his head; why did the Red Hood stop killing?

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

notes:

okay, I didn’t expect to write a chapter this soon. but reading all the comments you guys left on the previous chapter motivated me. to be honest, I didn’t expect this fanfic to get as many hits as it did.

I don’t know when I’m planning on posting this chapter but right now, my goal is to write as much as I can.

I also don’t know exactly how busy my sophomore year of high school will be, but I feel like it’s better to be safe than sorry. Especially if I make the school volleyball team.

I finished writing this chapter on August 8th, and I have tryouts on the 9th through the 11th from 4-6 pm. (wish me luck!)

like always, please, please, please, leave a comment. i love reading them and they just motivate me so much! Whenever I get author’s block, I just re-read them and they help so, so much. If you don’t wanna leave a comment, that’s fine. If you liked this fanfic, please hit that kudos button though.

and if you just wanna chat or if you want to request any ideas or prompts, just message me here.

ooh, and if there’s anything specific you want to read in this series, please tell me. It never hurts to have any extra ideas. plus, I really want to make this fic more enjoyable for everyone.

#batfamily #batman #clint barton #natasha romonova #Natasha and clint friendship #Jason Todd #jason todd needs a hug #jason todd is red hood #jason todd fanfiction #avengers #the avengers are all close #civil didn't happen cause I said so #Jason gets the love and happiness he deserves #BAMF Jason Todd #Jason Todd is young #Jason Todd is hot #avengers and Jason are gonna be bros #theyll be tight af #batfam and Jason are ehhhh #they're getting there #but they're making mistakes #lots and lots of it #bruce wayne #robin #red hood #nightwing #red robin #jealous batfam #jealous Bruce Wayne #jealous dick grayson

[sineala]

hii i love your fics and your blog. what are some writers, fanfic or otherwise, who inspire you? have you read anything good, fanfic or otherwise, recently? thank you i hope you have a nice day

I hope you have a nice day, too, anon!

The past year’s been kind of hard on me mentally -- and I am pretty sure I am not alone in this -- and until very recently I really haven’t been motivated to read much of anything, or write much of anything. I am slowly working on being able to do both of these things, but I am definitely not at 100% yet.

So I haven’t read all that much lately. In terms of actual books, I really liked Gideon the Ninth and Harrow the Ninth and am looking forward to the last book in the trilogy; last year I finally decided to get a supporting membership to Worldcon so I could vote for the Hugos, and while I didn’t manage to read anything other than the Novel and Novella categories, I enjoyed getting a giant virtual packet of books and getting to read some of the nominees, and I am looking forward to doing that again this year with the current Worldcon. (For approximately $50 you too can vote in the Hugos and receive a large number of current SF books and stories!)

If you’re looking for a rec for a SF/fantasy novel you probably haven’t read, one of my favorite authors, the late John M. Ford, is finally having most of his books come back into print. So far the only book that’s been reissued is The Dragon Waiting, which is an alt-history fantasy novel about the Wars of the Roses in a world where Byzantium has conquered much of Europe. It is very, very good. I reread it last year when it was rereleased. He does some really amazing things with POV (actually, so does Harrow the Ninth) and it has possibly my very favorite portrayal of vampires, in that vampirism in it is an unfortunate non-sexy medical condition that also happens to make you something fairly close to immortal, so people often seek to become vampires for strategic political reasons because they would really like to rule forever.

I really haven’t been reading a lot of fanfiction lately -- I have about twenty pages of stories Marked For Later on AO3 -- but let me see what I can come up with, looking at things I’ve bookmarked. Honestly I think one of the best parts about not lurking in fandom anymore is getting to befriend authors whose work I really admire; it’s a great experience. Kiyaar’s work always destroys me emotionally, and at some point I am gonna get to write a story with her, and I don’t know what it will be yet but it’s gonna be so much fun. (Insert “someone will die! of fun!” meme here.) Isozyme is currently playing in Untamed fandom and I really wish she would come back and write more Steve/Tony; I keep rereading her Ults fic and having Feelings. Mizzy consistently hits basically every narrative trope that I have ever liked, and I know this fic predates the pandemic, but I feel like always winter, never spring has been a Big Mood this past year. Sadisticsparkle does really consistently lovely work that I feel deserves to be recced more. I feel I have been pretty open about the fact that BlossomsintheMist’s Relativistic Heat Conduction is still my absolute favorite comics Steve/Tony story ever. Ever. (I would also like to try to cowrite with her someday but I have So Many Things to write first.) And also Crait’s Stark Disassembled series is perfect, perfect Civil War Tony Stark and I wish I could write half as well as this. I wish I could write half as well as any of these people.

And so you’re not like, “Hey, Sine, why are you just reccing your friends?” let me rec work by a couple of people whom I am pretty sure I have never interacted with beyond leaving embarrassingly-gushing comments on AO3. JenTheSweetie only writes MCU but every time I get a story notification email from AO3 I am super-happy, and I have read And Time Can Do So Much more times than I can count. It is an Endgame fixit. And I also want to rec -- oh my God, I just realized this is the exact same premise but it’s 616 and not MCU and also the other way around, oh my God, am I really this predictable, I guess so -- haemodye’s when you are fallen, which is a story in which Steve is presumed dead but is not really dead, just invisible, and Tony completely falls apart. And Steve gets to watch. So angsty. So good. Also it’s relatively recent, so probably not everyone has read it!

(I guess I really like stories that are basically AUs of the movie Ghost. I’m very predictable. In that vein, there’s also Mizzy’s ooh you and me would be a big conversation. Presumed-dead is the best trope because you get all the angst of deathfic but then you get a happy ending! Where Our Restless Monsters Sleep is also presumed-dead, I guess, in that it’s an Endgame fixit, but I figure every MCU fan has read it already. You know what, just go read all of Mizzy’s fic. I’ll wait here.)

There! I hope you find something good to read!

#Anonymous #replies